A Righteous Man

by Crownover, Jay

  “Well, don’t get caught together in any more compromising situations, and you won’t have to worry about it. Make sure she calls me and lets me know how she’s doing. I’ll talk to you later.”

  She hung up the call just as I moved my head to bang it against the door again. Only, the hard surface my weight was resting against suddenly disappeared, and I was thrown off balance. I careened into the room and bumped into Maren as she pulled the door open.

  She gasped, and I swore as we bounced off the wall and nearly tumbled to the floor. I managed to get an arm around her waist and brace a hand on the frame of the door to the bathroom, catching us just in time. I belatedly realized Maren was wearing a robe, and that the bathroom was steamy and smelled like a fresh shower. There was a towel on the floor that I must’ve knocked off her head when we stumbled over one another. Her dark hair was wet, sticking to her cheeks and the side of her neck. Her face was flushed, and her unusual eyes were really big as she looked up at me in startled surprise.

  “I thought you left. I ordered some room service. When I heard a noise at the door, I just assumed it was them.” She sounded a bit breathless, but she was no longer slurring her words, and her gaze was sharp and clear. “Why are you still here?”

  She shifted a little in my hold as I pressed her back against the wall and braced myself over her with a forearm over her head. I was trying really hard to keep my eyes on hers and not on the gap in the robe that was exposing more of her collarbone and chest than I bet she was aware of.

  I swallowed hard and told myself I really needed to let her go and not pull her closer so that our bodies were pressed tightly together.

  “You were crying in your sleep. I couldn’t leave with you like that.” It was hard to walk away from her under normal circumstances as it was.

  Her pretty mouth rounded in surprise, and she exhaled a long, slow breath. My eyes fell automatically to the rise and fall of her chest. I wanted the soft material of the robe to melt away. I really wanted to see her smooth skin and find out if the color of her nipples was a pretty pink or more of a dusky rose that was more in line with her darker coloring. I wanted to put my hands on her waist and shove my knee between her bare legs. Pretty much, I wanted to touch her all over and put my mouth on any part of her she would allow.

  Sure, I had a pretty uncontrollable crush on this woman, and it’d been a very, very long time since I’d been intimate with anyone. It’d been even longer since I’d hooked up with anyone while I was sober enough to remember any of it. So, of course, being this close to her and inhaling her clean, flowery scent made my body react predictably. If I leaned even half an inch closer to her, she was going to feel just how hard she made me.

  Her palms hit my chest, and I could see the indecision in her eyes. She wasn’t sure if she was going to push me back or pull me closer. The tension that started to spark between the two of us lifted hairs on my arms and something inside my chest tightened.

  “Oh, well, thank you for staying with me.” She cleared her throat. “Usually only Arrow and Lennon do that, and I’ve been known to scare both of them off on a bad day. I’m sorry you had to see me like that.” She looked embarrassed, and it was totally adorable.

  “I think it’s fair to say you’ve seen me in a worse state, and you can’t come close to the level of wrecked I was when I really let things get away from me. You just had a bit of a bad day, no biggie. I’m glad you asked me to stay. It makes me feel like you’re one step closer to forgiving me.”

  One of her hands tightened into a fist, gripping the material of my shirt as the other lifted and rested on the side of my neck. I was sure she could feel my pulse pound at the light touch but I didn’t care.

  “I think I have forgiven you, for the most part. I made a lot of mistakes along the way as well. It’s time to let go of the past and look toward the possibilities the future holds.”

  I grunted a bit and gave in to the burning urge to tug her to me. She made a startled sound as I told her very seriously, “That’s good to hear because I’m pretty sure I’m about to make you mad all over again.”

  They said it was easier to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission anyway.

  I kissed her in the same way that she kissed me, hurried, like we were doing something that we weren’t supposed to do. She didn’t seem as surprised as I’d been, and this time she immediately parted her lips and let me dip my tongue into the damp heat of her mouth. She still tasted a bit like a cocktail, and since it’d been so long since I’d touched anything even slightly inebriating, the flavor went to my head in a rush. Or maybe it was the fact that she was fully kissing me back with zero hesitation that had everything outside of me and her blurring to oblivion.

  Our lower halves pressed against each other, and I felt her stiffen a little as the erection making my zipper dig into my skin made itself known. I heard her breath catch but didn’t let her pull away. Instead, I gripped her tighter and pressed against her even more. I wanted there to be no doubt in her mind about how much I was affected by her.

  She was a beautiful woman without question. But we had history and all kinds of misunderstandings between us. I wanted her to understand that all that mattered to me was the way she made me feel. It was her heart and her caring nature that I couldn’t shake loose in my memories after all this time. She managed to move me even when I was chemically numb and I could barely remember my own name. It was all of her that got me hard and kept me that way, even when it’d been a struggle to get it up when I was so strung out.

  There had been a lot of faceless girls who had unwittingly stood in for her, and I knew now there would never, ever be any comparison. Maren got to me in a way no one else could.

  I kissed her to the point of distraction. I swirled my tongue around hers until she lifted up slightly and wrapped her arms around my neck, clinging to me as I devoured her mouth. I dragged my teeth over her bottom lip and licked the tiny divot in the top one, as my hand on her hip found its way to the tie on her robe. I wanted the thick fabric out of the way more than I wanted my next breath.

  She muttered something that may have been a protest or encouragement. Either way, I toyed with the loose knot until it slid free. We were pressed so tightly together; the fabric didn’t fall right away. Instead, it drifted down, slowly revealing the top of her chest and the curve of her shoulders. It was still more of her than I ever imagined I’d see, so I moved my head and started to lick my way down the long, elegant line of her throat. She smelled sweet and clean, and shivers followed every place the tip of my tongue touched.

  “Salinger.” She muttered my name in warning, but I wasn’t the kind of guy who played it safe.

  I hooked a finger in the opening of the robe and tugged it back. I couldn’t see much of anything since my head was bent and my mouth was skimming across her collar bone, but I could feel endlessly soft, smooth skin; my fingers skated over her stomach and dipped dangerously lower.

  Like I said, I didn’t have brakes where Maren was concerned. I was always out of control and willing to risk a head-on collision as long as it got me where I was going with her as quickly as possible.

  I felt her fingers in my hair. They pulled hard enough to lift my head as my hand traveled lower and lower. I could feel her shivering under the caress and her legs shifted restlessly. I wasn’t sure if she was going to open them and let me in, or squeeze them closed and shut me down. I could feel her wavering between what she wanted to do and what she probably should do. When I lifted my head to look at her, because I wasn’t about to cross the line without consent, I could see the lighter parts of her colorful eyes practically glowing. We had to work together when everything was said and done, so while I might not have any limits where she was concerned, I needed to respect her boundaries. It was all about trust. That delicate, fragile thing that would either make or break us.

  Before Maren could give the go-ahead or tell me to fuck off, we were startled apart by a sudden knock on the door. I blinked aw
ay the haze of desire that was clouding my vision as she let go of her hold on me and moved to cover herself back up.

  “Room service.” She lifted a hand to smooth down her hair and cleared her throat loudly. The moment was obviously gone.

  I caught her arm and tilted my head toward the main part of the hotel room. “Go in there. I’ll get it.” No one else needed to see her barely dressed and looking like she’d been kissed within an inch of her life.

  She nodded slightly and turned to go, but her words made me pause before I moved to pull the door open.

  “I really am glad you stayed, Salinger.”

  Fuck me. So was I.

  Maren

  “HAS ANYONE EVER told you that you look a little bit like Kate Beckinsale?” I glanced at the photographer who was doing the shoot for the magazine cover I was supposed to be on in a few months. The shutter of the very expensive camera kept clicking as an assistant nodded and mumbled about the shots on a monitor that was set up nearby. “So similar. You could be the American version of her.”

  I tried not to roll my eyes since the gesture would end up on film, and I always tried to be as professional as possible when working. “I have heard that a time or two. I think it’s just because we both have dark hair.” And we were both on the taller side and thin. Our features weren’t alike. In fact, I’d say she looked better than I did, even though she was quite a bit older than I was. “I always take it as a compliment.” She was beautiful. Even more so in person. I’d only met her briefly once, but up close, she was just as gorgeous as she appeared on the screen. I hoped everyone who compared the two of us was left with the same impression of me.

  “Your looks aren’t all you have in common.” The mumbling assistant finally looked up from the images he was critiquing and gave me a knowing look. “She also likes to date fetuses.”

  I couldn’t hold back a blink of surprise. Even the photographer let her camera drop for a second.

  “Excuse me?” The words rushed out in a deeply offended tone. “What are you referring to exactly?”

  The assistant balked as if he didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud. “Oh. Uh, nothing. Just that Kate Beckinsale is often in the news because of her love life. She’s photographed with men much younger than her. I happened to see a picture of you and Salinger Dolan on a magazine cover when I was getting my hair done the other day. I didn’t mean to be offensive. But he is a bit younger than you, isn’t he?”

  He was, but not twenty-one years younger like Kate’s last well-known lover.

  “Barret!” The photographer snapped her head around and glared at the young man. “What have I told you about thinking before you speak? I told you if you embarrassed me in front of a client again, I would no longer let you apprentice under me. This behavior is unacceptable.”

  The young man flushed but didn’t look the least bit apologetic. “I just said what everyone else is thinking. He’s super-hot and really young. Ms. Copeland is recently divorced and older by Hollywood standards. Those kinds of relationships are doomed from the start, if you ask me.”

  I snorted and finally gave in to the urge to roll my eyes. “No one did ask you. However, I’ll clarify that Salinger and I have known each other for a long time. We worked together when we were much younger and are working together now on a new project. We’re colleagues who are friendly with one another. Nothing more or nothing less.” I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to justify anything to an assistant who had no business butting into my personal life, but the instinct to deflect attention away from a romantic entanglement with Salinger was too strong to ignore.

  It wasn’t clear if I was trying to protect my image or his, but either way, it made me extremely uncomfortable to have anyone’s attention on the two of us outside of the project we were working on together.

  “I’m so sorry, Ms. Copeland. Barret is my cousin, so I’ve been forced to keep him around even though his behavior is deplorable. After today, I promise he will be fired. Please don’t tell the magazine about this. I work freelance, and if they find out about this, I’ll never get another gig with them.”

  The woman looked like she was going to cry, so I waved a hand to dispel her concern. “It’s fine. It’s actually kind of refreshing to be spoken to like a normal human being instead of a celebrity. That usually only happens when I’m at home visiting my dad.” I clicked my tongue and wagged a finger at the young man. “I wouldn’t get too comfortable doing that in this line of work, though. You never know how easily someone is offended and just how far they may go to ruin your life because you hurt their feelings.”

  I tried to lighten the atmosphere so we could get through the rest of the shoot. I still had a hundred other things to get done today. Now that we’d finalized contracts and mostly secured funding for the film, the search was on for a studio. Salinger and Jeno were handling a lot of the meetings, but occasionally I was called in for backup. I’d run out of fingers to count how many times I’d been asked to vouch for Salinger in the last few weeks. People were actually eager to work with him, but I’d noticed they were equally as excited to talk about his mistakes and the danger that he might fall back into bad habits.

  It was like people wanted to see him fail for their own amusement.

  The assistant made a relieved sound and brushed the back of his hand across his forehead. “I’m glad you’re just friends with him. I’m actually a pretty big fan of yours. I mean, I’ve had a crush on Salinger since I was a teenager, but I’ve always known the kind of guy he is. You seem like a nice woman, and you’re incredibly talented. It’s no secret your ex-husband was kind of a jerk. I don’t think anyone who has followed your career wants you hooked up with a player like Salinger. One of my friends was partying in West Hollywood a couple weeks ago and saw Salinger partying like he did before he went to rehab. He’s stupidly good looking, but he is bad news.”

  I motioned the photographer to get back to the shoot. “He’s not that bad. He’s changed a lot in the last couple of years. And I doubt it was him at any club.” Not with our very strict, consequence-heavy contract in place. Jeno would literally murder him if I became a majority shareholder of their company just because Salinger decided to have a night out on the town. Plus, Jeno took his job as his older brother’s sobriety coach seriously. He kept better track of Salinger than I’d kept of my husband when I was married. The two of them tried to be respectful of each other’s space, but it was obvious Salinger didn’t make a move without informing his younger brother first.

  It was an interesting dynamic. It made me feel a little bit better about jumping into the deep end with both of them as we tried to get Salinger’s movie made. It was nice to see that Salinger was taking his health and future seriously. It really made me look at him differently than I had when he first reappeared in my life. It was hard to see the spoiled teenager I loathed in the considerate man he’d become.

  The sassy younger man gave me a hard look as he tapped on the screen that held all the images of me. “My friend was certain it was him, and there was a ton of paparazzi waiting in front of the club when he left. It’d be very on-brand for Salinger to backslide into his previous lifestyle.”

  “His old lifestyle nearly killed him. I think he’s finally figured out that he has more than one reason to live well. When you lose everything, it teaches you to appreciate what little you’re left with.”

  I could’ve argued that there was no possible way for Salinger to go out clubbing without me knowing about it. There was the day he’d stayed with me at the hotel until we could sneak out. There were several nights where meetings had run late, and a few more where we lost track of time while going over the script and the pitch for the project. The bottom line was, I wanted to believe he was trying to be a better version of himself. I wanted to trust that he would be honest with me if he screwed up, and unlike last time, he would be accountable for his mistakes. I found that his company was shockingly enjoyable these days, once we got past the lingering awkwardness
from the fact that we’d been seconds away from banging against the wall of that lavish hotel room.

  I had the benefit of blaming my actions on being slightly tipsy, but Salinger had just lost control. He had no excuse other than he really wanted to kiss me, to touch me, to tease me. If that knock on the door hadn’t interrupted us, things would’ve gone from sexy and simple to downright dangerous in a heartbeat.

  There was no logical way to explain that I was more reluctant to work with Salinger than I was to sleep with him.

  “Oh. This is my favorite picture of the day.” I almost forgot the photographer was there because I was so engaged in the back and forth with the mouthy assistant.

  There was no possible way the kid was going to last. He really needed to find another line of work before he made the kind of enemy who would crush him.

  I wasn’t aware the photographer was still shooting pictures while I’d been lost in thought about Salinger. I flicked a look at the image she showed me on the back of the camera. The only word that could describe my expression was dreamy. There was a softness in my face that hadn’t been there in a very long time. A faint smile touched my lips that no amount of posing or practice could put there. I looked like a girl who was infatuated, or rather, a woman who was willing to risk it all for the wrong man.

  “Oh. That is nice. I don’t usually look very good in candid shots.” I wondered if the magazine would use it, or if they’d prefer one that was overly posed to show off the designer dress. It looked like something between a ballerina’s tutu and a sexy garbage bag. Fashion was weird. I would never understand how ugly clothes could cost as much as a house and have months-long waiting lists. I totally failed at being a fashionista. That was one part of being a star I skipped over unless I had an event or a pictorial.

  And since my last stylist had started the avalanche of destruction that consumed my marriage, I was forever hesitant to bring on a new one. Half the time, I let Arrow and Lennon vote on what I would wear so I could blame them if I ended up on a worst-dressed list.