Parisian Nights

by Louise Bay

  “Did you sleep here?” Harry asked through the glass.

  What? I threw the blanket off me and got out of the car. Why did he always catch me in the most embarrassing situations?

  “You looked comfortable. How long were you there?” he asked.

  I shrugged.

  “Am I late?” he asked.

  “No. I’m just always early.”

  “So you can nap when you arrive?” He started laughing at me.

  “Shut up,” I snapped. “Where’s your car?”

  He thumped the roof of the car next to mine. Now it was my turn to laugh. “Did you rent the Aston Martin? Trying to impress your date? Did it get you laid?”

  “Fuck off. It’s at home. I have two.”

  I opened my mouth to call him spoiled, but he put his hand across my mouth. “I know. I’m a spoiled little rich boy. Don’t be so predictable, Haven. Think of something new to say.”

  “Jesus, someone’s touchy,” I replied when he took his hand away.

  “I just don’t want to deal with your crap today.” He was scowling at me. I must have misread his texts over the weekend. I’d tricked myself into thinking maybe he liked me, maybe he was flirting with me. I’d got it all wrong. I was mortified at my mistake. Better to be angry than hurt, I lashed out.

  “My crap? My crap? I’ve said barely a word. You’re the one who’s giving me crap.” I poked him in the chest and he grabbed my hand. I twisted my fingers to break away, but he held them firm.

  “Stop, Haven,” he said. He wasn’t taking his eyes off me.

  My heart was racing. “You’re the one that started it this morning—”

  “Stop,” he said again, his gaze boring into me.

  “Let go of me,” I said, my anger dissipating as his eyes roamed my face, but I didn’t struggle and he didn’t let go. There wasn’t much space between us, and he took a step toward me, closing any gap. Instinctively I moved back, but my ass hit his car. I had nowhere to go.

  I tilted my head up, and his mouth crashed against mine, pressing into me. I couldn’t quite process what was going on. He was kissing me and he felt good, warm. And he smelled like . . . sandalwood, heat and clean laundry. I relaxed back against his car. His hands cupped my face, and he pressed his body against mine. I was trapped, deliciously so.

  His tongue trailed across the seam of my lips. I gasped, and he pushed through and against my tongue. He was surrounding me, overwhelming every sense I had. He was passionate and urgent as if he’d been saving all this up. I reached up and he moaned as I threaded my fingers through his dirty-blond hair. He pulled back slightly and took my lower lip in his mouth and bit. It was my turn to moan. Christ, no man had ever bitten me before. And then his tongue was against mine again. I was melting under his touch, pliant and relaxed and burning hot.

  Even through our coats, his hard-on pressed against me. Instinctively, I twisted my body under him. “Fuck,” he whispered into my mouth as he pushed his hips against me. I wanted him. I really wanted him.

  From somewhere I heard shouting, and I tensed beneath him. He pulled back slightly and rested his forehead against mine, looking at me and breathing heavily. He held my head between his hands, and I could still feel the warmth of him on my lips.

  I placed my hands on his hard chest and gently pushed him away. I scrubbed my hands up and down my face while he stood, bent over, his hands on his knees.

  “Come on, we’re going to be late,” I said.

  I collected my bag from the passenger seat, he grabbed his camera gear and we headed silently toward stage three.

  Jake

  I willed my hard-on under control. Thankfully it was winter, and I had my coat on. When I’d seen her sleeping, she looked so peaceful. I realized that I’d kinda missed her and her smart mouth. And then when she started giving me shit about my car I remembered how infuriating she was, and somehow the only solution to it all had been to kiss her.

  “We should go,” she’d whispered breathily. “Someone might see.”

  My body had been pressed against hers and as I moved, the loss of her warmth against me was unexpectedly wrenching, as if unnatural. I wanted to stay there and kiss her, dive into her and explore her.

  Her scent lingered around me as we walked to the studio. She smelled sexy, if that was possible. She hadn’t resisted, in fact she had kissed me back as if that was what we did all the time—kiss passionately in parking lots. It had been unexpected: the kiss, her response, my response. I liked that she gave into me, submitted to me as I touched her. Like somehow I’d found the key to taming her, discovered what she needed.

  Now there was just silence between us as we walked toward the studio.

  The security guard gave our passes a cursory glance and pointed at nowhere in particular. We followed the signs toward stage three.

  Sandy’s manager, Phil, came scurrying toward us with his finger across his lips. He had nothing to worry about. We weren’t speaking. This room seemed smaller, but probably because the set was bigger. It was like a formal ballroom; there were loads of actors dressed in evening wear. The atmosphere seemed tense. Phil still had his fingers on his lips as he backed away from the two seats he had ushered us to. We took off our coats and unpacked our bags. I kept stealing glances at Haven, but she was strictly focused on firing up her laptop.

  I took a few shots, but there was nothing much for me to do. I wasn’t allowed to capture the images of the actors on set, so my busiest time was during breaks in filming.

  I leaned into Haven. “You okay?” I whispered.

  She nodded but didn’t look at me.

  “You sure?” I asked. Was this no big deal for her? Had she not felt what I had during that kiss? I was used to a different reaction from women.

  She turned toward me and raised her eyebrows and nodded again. She seemed completely unfazed by our encounter. Maybe it was guilt that was generating her response. She hadn’t mentioned a boyfriend, but she might have one. Something deep in my belly exploded. I wasn’t sure I liked that idea.

  Haven tapped away on her laptop. I couldn’t understand what she had to write about. I heard Sandy before I saw her. She came bouncing over.

  “Harry!” she said, throwing her arms around my neck and pulling me into a hug. I turned to Haven, checking for her reaction. She shrugged. What was with her? I’d never seen her this relaxed before. Well, apart from dressed in pajamas in the street, drunk off her ass.

  “Hi, Sandy,” Haven said.

  Sandy, her arms still around my neck, turned to Haven and said, “Hey. Nice to see you. Let’s chat later.”

  “So, what’s going on?” I asked. “Things seemed a little tense up there.”

  “I think the director is going through menopause,” she replied. “He’ll be fine now. Those last scenes went well, don’t you think?”

  How was I supposed to know? I just nodded.

  “That’s a beautiful dress,” Haven said, smiling at Sandy.

  “Thanks! They literally had to pour me into it, it’s so tight,” she said as her eyes darted to mine and her hands skirted her silhouette. I forced a smile as Phil came up behind her and pulled her away.

  “See you later,” she said, following Phil and leaving us behind.

  I turned to Haven to find her smiling and waving at Sandy. She went back to her laptop.

  Later, the mumbling from the crew increased and everyone seemed to relax a little. Sandy was still on stage with Bobby, the male lead. They were talking to the director and some other guy.

  “What are you thinking about?” I asked Haven.

  She turned to me and narrowed her eyes. “I’m trying to find an interesting angle to this piece. I’m worried about it. I haven’t spent much time with her and I’ve got nothing to say. I think Jenny’s wrong about Phil—there’s no way Sandy’s banging him.”

  “Right.”

  “I think I might ask if you and I can have lunch with her. She’s just so distracted around you,” she said.
/>   “I think that’s how she is,” I said.

  “Distracted?”

  I nodded. “I mean, I don’t think it’s personal toward me.”

  “I don’t know. I think she’s pretty available to you.”

  Was she trying to gauge whether I was interested in her? “Again, I don’t think it’s personal,” I replied.

  “Harry!” She opened her eyes and mouth wide in mock shock. “Are you saying our star is a slut?”

  I laughed. “No, and don’t quote me on that.”

  She smiled at me and went back to her laptop.

  “So you weren’t thinking about earlier?” I asked.

  “Earlier?” she asked as if she was genuinely unclear what I meant.

  “In the parking lot earlier,” I said.

  “Oh, you mean am I worried about the chlamydia thing? Don’t worry. I’ll get tested and get antibiotics if I need to.” She grinned at me.

  “Haven?” She was funny, but it was killing me. I wanted to know what she was feeling. Her reaction, or lack thereof, to our kiss had been completely unexpected and it bothered me. I wanted her to tell me that she wanted it to happen again.

  “What?” She sounded exasperated.

  “Should we talk about it?”

  “What, that you can’t keep your hands off me? No, we should not talk about it.”

  I tried to think of a witty comeback, but I couldn’t. So I didn’t say anything.

  Haven managed to secure lunch in Sandy’s trailer with her manager. Hopefully, it would give her the time with her that she needed.

  “So, it’s exciting to be on a movie set,” Haven said, smiling at Sandy. “Are you enjoying it?”

  “Yes, I’m having such a great time. I’ve always enjoyed shooting music videos, but this is different and super-fun. It just takes way longer.” Sandy was in a good mood and I was pleased for Haven.

  “Do you have a lot of creative input into your videos?” Haven asked.

  “Sure, loads. The one for ‘Shout If It’s Love,’ I completely styled myself and I worked with the director on different ideas before we started shooting,” she replied.

  “Is it tough, not having the same control in a film?”

  “No. I trust the director.”

  “You grew up singing and dancing. Your first public performance was at the age of three. Did you ever want to do anything other than what you’re doing now?”

  Sandy narrowed her eyes slightly, as if trying to process the question. “I can’t remember there ever being a time when I didn’t want to be famous, to perform, to sing. I love it. There’s never a time when I don’t feel incredibly lucky to have had my dreams come true, but I knew it was going to happen for me, like it was my destiny or something.”

  Haven smiled at Sandy and nodded.

  Sandy turned to me. “And did you hear that we’ve got the date for Paris? You’re coming to that, Harry, right? Spring in Paris is so romantic.”

  “So, it’s the first Tuesday in April, for three days, two nights” Phil explained. “You don’t have to come for the whole shoot, or at all if you don’t want to. It’s to film the proposal scenes.”

  “It will be so fun, Harry! Promise you’ll come,” Sandy said, whining.

  “This is the first I’ve heard of it.” I looked at Haven and she shrugged. She clearly hadn’t known about it either. “We’ll have to check the schedules. I may be in the US. It depends on a few things.”

  “Please try.” Sandy was pouting.

  “We’d love to come, and we’ll make every effort,” Haven said. It seemed to placate Sandy, for the moment. “Paris is beautiful. You must have travelled all over the world. Do you have a favorite place?”

  “Dubai, I think. The Atlantis Palm hotel is completely amazing. I loved it there, didn’t I, Phil?”

  Phil nodded. Of all the places she’d been, she picked a hotel. She reminded me of Millie.

  I got the feeling that it wasn’t the answer that Haven had wanted, but she was pretty good at covering it up. Better than I’d expected her to be in any event.

  “Do friends and family join you when you’re touring?” she persisted.

  “Of course. Phil here is like an uncle to me. And Patricia comes with me everywhere.” Sandy replied. “I’m very lucky to have them.”

  “Patricia?”

  “My assistant. You’ve met her, right?”

  Haven shook her head.

  “Phil, can you introduce Patricia to Haven?” She turned back to Haven. “She’s lovely. We’re so close that we’re like sisters. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

  “It’s good to have someone who has your back.”

  Phil excused himself to take a call and was soon ushering Sandy out of the trailer and back to the set. Of course, we followed.

  “Holy crap,” Haven said as we took our chairs in our designated spot. “I can’t exactly write about what a lonely, vacuous existence she has, can I? This is Rallegra, not the fucking Times, but that’s the bit I find fascinating. That’s what I want to write about.”

  “Paris might help,” I replied.

  “I doubt it. I’m not sure Sandy’s the problem. Robert might not even let us go,” she mused.

  Haven

  By some miracle I’d managed to pull it off. I’d played it cool, pretending I thought him kissing me was no big deal, when of course, I thought it was a huge deal. I’d done it more successfully than he had. He’d kept asking if I was okay and if I wanted to talk about it. I brushed it off, but wondered if his concern masked regret. As soon as he drove out of the car park at the end of the day, I collapsed onto the steering wheel. What the fuck happened? We were fighting, then kissing, and then he was moaning and panting and I was feeling things between my thighs that I’d only read about in books. Shit.

  Why had he kissed me? To prove that he could? To demonstrate he could have everything he wanted? Did he want me?

  And now it was the weekend and I was going to have to wait until Monday to see him again. A weekend he was probably spending with the glamazon, racing around London in his Aston Martin, tan and gorgeous, drinking champagne and eating caviar.

  I needed to bury the very thought of him. He wasn’t my type. I didn’t like men like him. I liked men who were ambitious and successful, kind and funny.

  “So, you seem distracted,” Ash said, jolting me from my thoughts.

  “Do I? I’m thinking that I’m twenty-seven and single, yet I’m spending a second Saturday night in a row drunk with my best friend, at home, without the possibility of getting laid.”

  “I’ll kiss you later if that makes you feel better,” she offered.

  “Let’s see how you’re looking after another bottle of wine.”

  “Anyway, we were at Luke’s last weekend getting drunk, so it hasn’t been two Saturday nights in a row drinking at home.”

  “Oh, that’s okay then.”

  “How’s the Sandy Fox article coming?”

  “Terrible. Ugh.” I slumped back onto the sofa. “There is just nothing interesting to say about her. Scratch that. The interesting stuff isn’t very flattering, and of course, we’re Rallegra, so we’re not going to write a takedown piece about Sandy bloody Fox.”

  “If Vanity Fair couldn’t stand up to Gwynnie . . .”

  “Exactly. She’s not a monster, don’t get me wrong, but really, there’s nothing much there and I want to be getting down and dirty. She spends the whole time flirting with Harry.”

  “Is that what the problem is? You don’t like her flirting with Licky? He is hot, from what I remember. I drank a lot of wine that night, so everyone looked good.”

  “Including his glamazon girlfriend,” I said. “Anyway, why would I care if she flirted with him? I just wish that this wasn’t the article that my future depended on. I asked her about her favorite place she’d visited, and she told me it was the Atlantis Palm hotel in Dubai. I mean, she must have travelled all over the world. How depressing.”

  “Ma
ybe they have really good free toiletries.”

  “You’re not helping.”

  “No, hear me out. Maybe she likes stealing things from hotel rooms. That’s your story—Sandy Fox, superstar and thief of hotel amenities.”

  “Don’t give up your day job,” I said and swatted her

  “Is Licky up for a slice of Miss Fox?”

  Despite Sandy being gorgeous and very available to Harry, I didn’t think he was. “I don’t think so.”

  “Perhaps it’s serious with the glamazon.”

  “Maybe,” I replied, and focused on my wine glass.

  “Haven?”

  “What?”

  “What are you not telling me?” I didn’t know if it was my lack of poker face or the fact Ash had known me twenty years that meant I could never keep a secret from her for very long.

  “Harry kinda kissed me.” My heart started thumping against my chest as I said it. Would she think he was ridiculously out of my league?

  “He kinda kissed you? Are you not sure? Was it ambiguous? When did this happen?”

  “I’m pretty sure he kissed me. On Friday. Outside the studio.” Warmth spread over me as I remembered his breath on my skin, his tongue skimming across my lips.

  “And you waited until now to tell me? So what happened? Was it a good kiss? Was it just a kiss? Was there groping? How did you leave it?”

  “Do you want me to fill out a questionnaire?” I grinned at her.

  “Come on! Tell me.”

  “It came out of nowhere. And it was in the car park, of course it was just a kiss.” But it hadn’t felt like just a kiss. It had felt more important.

  “Wow.”

  “Wow what?” Was she going to tell me I was an idiot for letting myself get into that situation?

  “Wow, is it going to happen again? Do you want it to?”

  My stomach tilted. I wasn’t sure how to answer that question. My body was telling me I wanted it to happen again, I wanted it a lot. But my mind was telling me Harry spelled trouble. “I’m still processing. I don’t really understand why it happened.”