Can't Let Her Go

by Sandy James

  “I’m not going off the island just to get someone to take our picture.”

  “Don’t have to. We can do a few selfies,” Chelsea said. “Those will be fine.” When Ethan shook his head, all her calm vanished. “You don’t give a shit about me at all, do you?”

  He jumped to his feet. “What?”

  “This is my career we’re talking about here! My life! Do you know how long and hard I’ve worked to get my fans to support me?”

  He fisted his hands against his slim hips. “What’s that got to do with you thinking I don’t give a shit about you?”

  “Something like this could destroy the relationship I have with my fans. They’ll never trust me again.”

  “Oh, come on, Chelsea. Don’t you think you’re blowing this a little out of proportion?” Ethan took her hand. As angry as she was, she let him keep it, reserving the right to snatch it away if he said something too stupid. “You’re not going to lose your fans just ’cause a couple of pictures of us get out there. You’re underestimating them.”

  “Will always says trust is everything, that once a celebrity lies about something, she loses the goodwill of her fans.”

  He squeezed her hand. “All I’m saying, Chelsea, is that a few pictures of us put together with a rumor that we’re engaged doesn’t really make that big a story.”

  “You’re wrong, Ethan. The world is a lot different from when your parents were singing.” She still thought they needed to be proactive, to get something out there before a picture of Ethan flipping his middle finger was all over every gossip magazine being printed. “What a nightmare.”

  Why the man suddenly began smiling was beyond her. Then he let out a chuckle.

  “What exactly is so damned funny?” she asked.

  He laughed a little louder.

  When she tried to tug her hand away, he refused to let it go. “Stop laughing at me!”

  * * *

  Ethan tried to stop the humor bubbling up inside him long enough to explain. “I’m not laughing at you, baby. I’m not.”

  “Sure sounds like it to me.”

  “It’s just…this is our first fight.”

  Chelsea stopped struggling to pull away and simply stared at him. Eyes wide, she blinked a few times, her face stoic. Then the corners of her mouth rose. “It is, isn’t it?” The grin blossomed to a full-blown smile. “I suppose it had to happen sometime.”

  The anger that had been roiling through him changed. Shifted. Although heat still whipped inside him, that heat became a need to touch her, to take her into his arms. To soothe the hurt. He had a quick flash of Brad telling him about how he and Savannah hated quarreling, but that the makeup sex was fantastic. Ethan had laughed at his friend.

  Now he understood.

  One pull had her stumbling against him, and he took full advantage, enfolding her in his embrace as he stared down into those hypnotic green eyes. “Are you half as turned on as I am?”

  Instead of replying, she rose on tiptoes, threaded her arms around his neck, and put her lips on his. Not a soft kiss, but one that showed she was as full of need as he was. Her tongue thrust between his lips, teasing and coaxing, and he responded in kind, drinking her in.

  He forgot all about the photographer.

  Lingering, savoring each kiss, he was ready to carry her to the bedroom. But she shocked the hell out of him.

  Easing back from the kiss, she reached out and grabbed the picnic basket, jerking it closer. Then she began to fish through it.

  “What are you—”

  “A condom,” she replied.

  “In the picnic basket?”

  She found what she was looking for, plucking two connected condom packets and dangling them in front of his face. “What can I say? I was hoping to get lucky on the beach.”

  “Now that would’ve made a great picture to sell.” Ethan let out a chuckle. “I love a woman who’s prepared.”

  Chelsea smoothed her hand down his stomach until her palm settled on the front of his pants. “I love a man who’s…prepared.”

  Heat shot through him as they fumbled with their clothes. A shirt here. A pair of shorts there. They stumbled to the couch, and he dropped onto his back, pulling her down on top of him.

  Straddling his hips, she quickly rolled the condom over his cock, and then rose above him so she could guide him inside her.

  It was fast. Fierce. Full of passion. Ethan held tightly to her hips, helping her move as he felt his climax building inside him. When she threw her head back and cried out in release, he was there with her, thrusting a few more times and then giving in to a consuming orgasm.

  Collapsing against his chest, Chelsea gulped in deep breaths.

  Ethan trailed his fingers up and down her spine. How content he would’ve been to be able to stay there all day, just the two of them, sated and happy in each other’s arms.

  But the world intruded in the form of Chelsea’s phone ringing.

  “That’s Addie’s ringtone,” Chelsea said as she tried to crawl off the couch.

  Plucking her shirt and panties from the floor, she picked up her phone and answered it. Watching her try to dress while talking to her assistant was highly amusing—and more than a little arousing.

  “I was just going to call you,” Chelsea said to Addie. “The place is great. You did good. But…” Time passed as Chelsea listened. “That all sounds great, but we’ve got a problem.”

  While Ethan dressed, he listened to Chelsea’s side of the conversation as she told her assistant about the photographer, even going so far as to tell Addie about how immature Ethan had been. Not that he regretted giving that moron the finger. But it had upset Chelsea, so he promised himself he’d try a little more decorum next time.

  And there was sure to be a next time. Once those photos hit the Internet, things would change for a while. Their privacy would be royally invaded, and Chelsea was sure to want to be open with her fans.

  Glancing up, he caught her eye.

  She said, “Hang on, Addie.” Then she muted the call and glanced at him. “Look, I know you aren’t happy about it, but I’m gonna have Will release a statement about our relationship. Nothing major, just that we’re dating.”

  “Do I even get a say in it?”

  “What do you want me to do, Ethan?”

  “Same thing as I wanted you to do before,” he replied.

  “I know, I know. Nothing.” She heaved a sigh. “That’s just not gonna cut it now. Not with those pictures. Can’t you see that?”

  Realizing they were never going to agree on the issue of publicity, Ethan finally breathed out a long sigh of his own. His still thought his way was better—that bullies like the paparazzi were better ignored rather than fed. But what she’d said about her career reached him. What had happened to his parents had been so long ago, and the lessons they’d taught him about dealing with reporters might be a bit outdated. Chelsea seemed to have more control over what she shared with the press than his parents ever did. So, for now, he was willing to give in, if only to ease her mind and get back to their vacation. “Fine. Whatever.”

  The way she narrowed her eyes boded ill, but she nodded curtly and returned to talking to Addie. When she ended the call, Chelsea came to sit next to him on the sofa. She laid her phone on the coffee table and took his hand. “I know how much you hate this.”

  Somehow, he doubted that. She wasn’t the one who’d grown up under the press’s microscope. She wasn’t the one who’d lost any chance of a normal childhood or adolescence because her parents loved being famous more than they loved their only child.

  A photographer hadn’t killed her parents.

  What kind of life could he and Chelsea have together if she continued to encourage the paparazzi to interfere in everything they did?

  “Addie is going to have Sharon replaced, but she thinks we’re fine here until we go up to Jekyll.”

  Unsure what she wanted him to say, Ethan simply nodded.

  “You think th
is is my fault, don’t you?” she asked.

  The sadness in her voice shook him. “It’s not your fault, Chelsea. It’s just that…Well…”

  “I’m a singer, Ethan. A good singer who has a lot of fans.”

  “You’re a goddamn star,” he said.

  “Yes, I’m a goddamn star,” she said firmly. “A big, fucking star, with the shit ton of nonsense that goes along with it.”

  “So that means you have to give up a private life?”

  “No, but it does mean I need to be available to my fans.”

  Fearing another fight, he decided to quit the topic. “How about a swim?”

  “In other words, you’re done talking about this?”

  He stood and grabbed her hand. “I’ve a hankering to try out that hot tub.”

  Her eyes searched his, but he had no idea what she was looking for. She opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it. With a brusque nod, she stood and let him lead her away from the room and the discussion.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Ethan gave their island a nickname.

  Utopia.

  After spending three mostly carefree days with Chelsea, he dreaded returning to the real world. Their days had been filled with sunshine, warm sand, and heavenly breezes. Nights crept by as they made love and slept wrapped around each other until he didn’t know where he ended and she began. And thankfully, there’d been no more intrusions of their privacy.

  Chelsea had made a habit of checking her phone only twice a day, something he’d believed would be difficult for her. She’d surprised him by letting her guard down and simply enjoying herself. There were no fans; there was no career. Once, he’d even had to remind her to look and see if Addie had sent any texts.

  He hadn’t even bothered to check his own phone more than once or twice. No one ever texted him except Brad or Russ, and they knew he’d be too preoccupied with Chelsea to answer them. Besides, what help could he be? The restaurant would be fine until he got back. So would the farm. Ethan wasn’t even sure Joe knew how to text.

  “I’m gonna go through the house one more time,” Chelsea said, pulling him from his reverie. “Need to make sure we’re not leaving anything behind.”

  “We should stay a few more days,” he suggested. “Or weeks. Or months.”

  “Or years?” She winked, and her laughter followed her down the hall.

  At least he’d tried. It wasn’t as though he’d been totally serious. But had he meant it even a little bit, that they should stay here and let the rest of the world go by?

  Yeah. Just a little bit…

  Not only did he need to get back to the horses, but there was also another pressing matter. Brad and Savannah were going to be married tomorrow. As best man, Ethan had an obligation to stand at his friend’s side. A guy needed his buddy to help him through that kind of ordeal.

  Ordeal?

  That was the way Ethan had always thought of marriage—as something to be avoided at all costs. The women who’d passed through his life—and his sheets—had tried to become shackles far too quickly. So he’d discarded them all, moving on to greener pastures before a single one of them could tie him down.

  Then Chelsea Harris had waltzed into his life, slinging liquor as though she’d always been a bartender and singing like an angel. She’d become a part of his world too quickly for him to have raised a single defense. In truth, he hadn’t wanted to stop her. She shared so many things with him. His love of animals. His need for solitude. Passion. They could sit and talk for hours and it seemed so natural, so easy. Or they might be together while she read or he played solitaire, and yet it still felt comfortable. Right.

  He could be himself with Chelsea and know that she cared for him the way he was because he felt the same way about her. No games. No pretending to be something they weren’t. Just two people who enjoyed each other’s company.

  He’d never known someone as giving, a trait that made him want to give in return.

  Now, he believed that finding himself married wasn’t so far-fetched—but only to her. Should he somehow convince her to take the plunge, he would feel a kind of security that suddenly seemed appealing. If they were husband and wife, he would have tangible proof that her feelings ran as deep as his own. Best of all, he would know that she’d be coming home to him every night. Just the two of them sharing the farm.

  Oh yes, that all sounded appealing—enough that the infamous question tickled his tongue.

  Thankfully, Chelsea reappeared, snapping his mind back into a normal mode. “I think we got everything,” she announced.

  What in the hell was wrong with him? He wasn’t meant to be a husband—anyone’s husband. Especially not Chelsea’s. She needed someone who could support her status as a star, someone who didn’t hate reporters the way he did. Should they stay together, he was sure to have more embarrassing episodes such as what had happened on the beach. He’d could never put himself in the spotlight the way she’d expect him to.

  He tried to convince himself that the marriage nonsense had been nothing more than a romantic illusion cast by being on their isolated island. Like some mirage a thirsty man saw in the middle of a desert. That, and clearly Brad’s impending wedding was taking a heavier toll on Ethan than he’d realized.

  Marriage?

  Fuck that!

  “Ready?” he asked, picking up their bags. “Boat’s at the dock.”

  Chelsea nodded and then allowed her gaze to wander the kitchen and living space. “I’m going to miss this place.”

  “Don’t sound so forlorn,” he said. “We can always come back.”

  “Not for a while,” she said. “I’ve got that charity album to finish, and then I have a crap ton of events. And then—”

  “I know, I know,” he grumbled as he dropped their bags with a loud thud. “You’re a busy star. Got to keep those fans satisfied.”

  * * *

  Chelsea dropped her jaw, entirely thrown off center by his swift and decidedly negative change in attitude. The days they’d spent had been so loving, so tender. They hadn’t exchanged a single cross word after their fight about the photographer. Their time here had been nothing short of wonderful. Yet now, the man sounded downright petulant.

  She leveled a hard stare at him. “I can’t read your tone. Are you mad or jealous?”

  “Jealous?” Ethan snorted. “Of what?”

  “That I might spend some time with my fans instead of with you.”

  “I…” His eyes narrowed and then slowly softened. “Maybe.”

  With a shake of her head, she went to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. She rose on tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips.

  Her being a star would always be a sticking point between them and she was pretty sure she’d finally figured out why. His whole life he’d been second best to the two people that had mattered most to him—his mother and father. Sure, he’d been lucky to have Joe in his life. Yet how could the love and attention of one man ever make up for what Ethan had missed. His parents had never made him feel wanted and valued.

  “You have nothing to be jealous of, Ethan. I’m not like your parents.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “They let their careers come first. They made you feel like you were second best.”

  His face hardened, but he said nothing.

  “I know how hard it must’ve been for you,” she said. “Watching them leaving for yet another tour. Everyone knows how hard Dottie and Crawfish worked. But what everyone doesn’t know is what it cost their son.”

  God, if she could only read him. But his face remained a mask, giving her no clue as to whether she was pushing too hard.

  Figuring she was already in with both feet, she pressed the point. “My fans are important, but I will never put them before you. Never.” Her gaze searched his. “Understand?”

  The words had to be said, and yet they were more than words. This was a vow she was making. What he needed to know was that she mean
t what she said, every word.

  “I promise, Ethan. You are more important than anything else in my life.”

  Her breath rushed out as he suddenly tugged her hard against him and hugged her as though she were the only thing keeping him from drowning. This wasn’t passion; this was love.

  In that moment, she would’ve been happy to confess how she felt. Yet caution won out. She’d laid her heart on the line already, opening up to him in a way that made her too vulnerable for her taste. If anyone was going to admit that what they shared was love, it was damn well going to be him.

  Knocking at the front door intruded. “Yoo-hoo!” a feminine voice called with another knock. “I’m here with your boat!”

  * * *

  Ethan helped Chelsea out of the town car while the driver pulled their bags from the trunk and handed them off to the bellboy, who’d appeared with a rolling cart. After slipping the driver a generous tip for the smooth ride from the airport, he took Chelsea’s elbow and guided her to follow the bellboy.

  The Jekyll Island Royale looked like a ghost town, albeit an elegant one. There were no other cars in the circle drive at the main entrance, only one vehicle in the parking lot, and no people hanging out on the terraces. Even the pool appeared deserted with nothing but empty white chaises scattered around the deck. Not that he’d expected otherwise. Brad had planned to rent the whole place out, but it was so much bigger than Ethan had anticipated.

  This wedding must be costing Brad a fortune.

  Having been curious about the place, Ethan had done some digging online. The main building of the resort had been a rich family’s extravagant home back in the 1880s. Years later, it was turned into an affluent club. The clubhouse was flanked by three other houses that could only be described as mansions, which now held guest suites.

  He smiled when he saw Chelsea gawking as she took everything in. The images he’d found in a Google search had been nice, but he had to admit the place was even more impressive in person. After the wedding, they’d have to spend some time exploring the resort and the island.