Sexy Bachelor

by Maggie Monroe

  Other woman? What the fuck?

  Son of a bitch. I jumped the railing and sprinted to the parking lot.

  What I saw tore my heart in two.

  “Back off!” I roared as I ran into the center of the circle, pushing bodies out of the way. I had to get there, had to control it. Chelsea was hunched next to her car, her hands over her head.

  I scooped her up. She didn’t protest, or if she did, I couldn’t hear over the crowd. My Jeep was at the edge of the lot. I placed her in the passenger seat and sped onto the island road. If I thought I was in a fishbowl before, I was wrong. This was a fishbowl. There was nowhere to go on the island where we wouldn’t be found. It was too small. There weren’t enough roads or exits. There were no gated security systems, and no rock-solid bodyguards. Damn it.

  I drove a mile, trying to put some distance between us and the paparazzi nightmare that had invaded our perfect summer dream. I clutched Chelsea’s hand, squeezing it tightly into my palm, but she stared straight ahead as if I wasn’t there.

  What had I done? I looked at her, terrified and pale. Right now, I just had to protect her—do what I should have done in the first place. I reached for my phone and scrolled until I found Derek’s number.

  “Hey, man. I have an emergency.” I spoke quickly.

  “Yeah, yeah. What is it? Waves?”

  “Do you think you could call Paul? Meet us at his place?”

  Derek paused. “Sure, but what’s going on?”

  “Don’t talk to anyone. Meet me there in five minutes and come alone. Understand?” I glanced at Chelsea, her blue eyes closed off from me. “This is serious.”

  “Got it, man. See ya.” Derek hung up.

  I steered straight and turned at the next road. Paul McIntire had the only house on the island that I knew of with gates. It might be the only place where I could keep Chelsea guarded against the press. They would find her, but she would be safe.

  I pulled into the driveway and parked behind a large oleander bush. Until I talked to Paul, I wouldn’t be able to close the gates. I would have to wait for Derek too.

  “Chelsea, I’m going to fix this,” I whispered. “I won’t let them hurt you.”

  She turned toward me, her hands steady in her lap. Her eyes looked at me, but the light was gone. I felt the pain of what I had done like a knife twisting between my ribs. I was the man who had put out the glow. There was nothing there but cold.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Chelsea

  Everything felt numb, like when your hand falls asleep, and it hurts when you attempt to shift it. If I tried to move at all, my body seized with the pain of waking up, one piercing, burning twist at a time.

  “Here you go. Paul made you one of those fruity drinks you like so much.” Derek shoved a cup into my hand. “Just drink.”

  I sipped, but my eyes wouldn’t break with the ocean. There were five boats on the horizon, zipping by on their way into the marina before the sun went down. No, there were six.

  “So, this seems like a lot to take in.” Derek sat next to me. “Who would have thought all this time that we were hanging out with a movie star? Wild, huh?” He tipped his drink back, and looked over his shoulder and into the massive McIntire residence.

  Paul and Jake were inside talking, presumably about security measures that needed to be taken. My stomach twisted. He wasn’t Jake. He was Ben Baldwin.

  “Did he tell you anything? Did you seriously have no idea who he was?” Derek asked. “No clue?”

  I tilted my head toward him, feeling the sting of the motion.

  “Ok. I’m going to guess that means no.” He slid his hand along my back. It was an attempt to comfort me, but I didn’t want anyone to touch me. I shirked from the contact.

  “Please don’t, Der.”

  I kicked the cup back and let the coconut mixture slide down my throat. I didn’t want to get lost in the bottom of a cup. I didn’t want the pina colada to be the relief that quieted the pain. That was for people who drowned their sorrows in alcohol. That was for people who had been dumped or were left broken-hearted. I wasn’t one of those people. My heart wasn’t broken. No, it just wasn’t beating.

  “I know I’ve been a real dick this summer, Chelsea. But I am here for you. I don’t really have any clue what’s going on, no clue, but I’m here if you need me.” He stood as Paul and Ben walked on the deck.

  Ben strolled to the chaise lounge where I was propped against a pile of tropical-colored pillows. He had deposited me there before gathering the guys for a talk. “Derek, man, thanks for everything.”

  “No problem. I’m happy to help.” He slapped Ben on the back.

  Ben crouched down, eye-level with me. “I have to go back into town. If I don’t make some kind of statement, they’ll never leave.”

  I refused to look at him—whoever he was.

  “Paul said you can stay here as long as we need, and Derek is going to stay too while I’m gone.” He moved to kiss my forehead, but I flinched at the gesture.

  “Go.”

  “I’ll be back tonight and we can talk.” His voice was soft.

  Derek and Paul made a beeline for the living room.

  “I don’t want to talk,” I answered.

  Ben sighed. “I did this. I did all of it. I know I did.”

  “Stop.”

  The pain in his eyes caught my breath for a second, but I powered through, turning my attention back to how many boats I could count on the horizon. “Go. And do not come back here.”

  He pushed against the chair and stood next to me.

  “I swear, Chelsea, I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

  The pain turned to something more intense and more physical. I screamed at the top of my lungs. “Didn’t you hear me? Get out of here.”

  Ben turned on his heels and walked down the side steps.

  My body lunged backward into the pillows. Seven, no maybe that was the eighth boat. I was going to have to start all over again. Damn him.

  ***

  This might be the first time I had turned on the TV all summer. Other than a little hurricane coverage, I didn’t have time and not a whole lot of interest. I read. I wrote music. I loved Jake all summer. Who had time for TV?

  I tapped the volume control so I could hear what was being said about him, about me.

  It was all surreal. Ever since yesterday afternoon, my life had been sucked into a paparazzi vortex. They had dug up dirt on me I didn’t even know I had. It didn’t help that Rebecca Campbell was determined to stick around and spin her story. I realized though that Rebecca might be telling the truth. I might actually be the other woman in this twisted scenario. How could I tell what was right and true anymore when my compass had been smashed into a million pieces?

  Derek walked into the living room and slumped into the open space on the couch next to me. He had spent the night in one of the many bedrooms.

  “You don’t want to watch this trash, do you?” He tried to take the remote from me.

  “Actually, I do. Did you know that I slept with a married professor?” My eyes hardened.

  “None of the things they are saying about you or J—Ben are true. The people who know and love you know the truth. Let’s watch a movie or something.”

  I laughed at the irony. If I had watched more movies, maybe none of this would have happened. What dingbat doesn’t know she’s sleeping with the World’s Sexiest Bachelor? That’s what the headline said—he was the most wanted and adored man on the planet. I clutched the remote.

  “Hey, easy tiger. Paul’s parents are pretty generous, but we don’t need to buy a new remote.” He took it from my grasp and turned the TV off before I could get the daily entertainment rundown.

  “Der, I want to watch it.”

  “No, you don’t. You’re sitting in here, beating yourself up for something that isn’t your fault. None of us knew who he was.” He turned me to face him. “He didn’t want us to know, Chelsea. Look at what happened. It’s a circu
s at the store, all the local press is here, people are camped out at The Carribe Inn of all places. It’s crazy. He was right. There was no reason to subject anyone to this. I have a whole new appreciation for celebrities.” He whistled.

  “Did you just say he was right?” I had hit Derek once before and that was a moment I regretted, but the urge was itching in my palm.

  “I know you’re pissed. I’m not telling you it isn’t justified. But, he’s doing everything he can to fix it.”

  “How do you fix something like this, Der? He lied. He fucking lied to me all damn summer!” I felt my hands tremble. “Everything, the record label was him pulling strings with friends, the book—he’s not a fucking writer! Did he just say that to get in my pants? Is that all guys care about?” I picked up a pillow and threw it against the sliding glass door.

  “I’m glad that wasn’t something breakable.” Derek looked at the pillow and then at me. “What Ben did was shitty, but he’s not a bad guy. It doesn’t take five minutes around him to know that.” He stood. “And no, guys care about more than getting in a girl’s pants.” He winked. “Sometimes.”

  I grabbed the other pillow and threw it at his chest. “Not funny.”

  “Oh, I’m hilarious. You’ve just forgotten.”

  There was quite possibly a smile forming at the corners of my mouth, but I was reluctant to give in to it. It felt better to let the misery and hurt consume me. It kept the memories of Ben farther away. The memories of his mouth, the way he growled in my ear, the way his skin felt pressed against mine, how he could calm me down with his arms around me. No, those memories weren’t welcome here and neither was Ben Baldwin.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Ben

  “Rick, man where have you been? I’ve been calling you for twenty-four hours.” I breathed into the phone. If there was ever a time I needed Rick, it was now.

  “Hey. I’ve been doing a little traveling.”

  “Traveling? Ok. Well, have you seen the news? I don’t know how, but Rebecca found me. Everything has gone to hell. What can you do about her?” I waited anxiously for him to give me good news.

  “Ben, Ben, I think we have a bad connection. Let me try you back.”

  “Rick—” I huffed as the call ended.

  Damn it. I threw the phone across the table, and it skidded into the red vinyl cushion.

  Nothing was working out. Damage control was not my strong suit. I was the charmer. I had tried smiling and joking my way through the questions, but the reporters were after more than my usual one-liners.

  I slid into the booth. What I couldn’t figure out was how Rebecca tracked me down. I had been careful. None of the locals seemed to notice me anymore. I had blended in like one of them. It didn’t make any sense. The bigger puzzle was why. Why was she after me like this?

  My reflection looked rough. I didn’t sleep much last night, and I hadn’t shaved or taken a shower. I reached for the hot water knob and grimaced, thinking that just yesterday I had been in here with Chelsea. The water falling over her smooth skin, her body wet and warm under mine. I punched the wall.

  What kind of an asshole does what I did? I had more than one chance to tell her my name, what I did for a living, that I was trying to run from it and chase a new life. The excuses I had created were stupid, so stupid. Why couldn’t I have seen that before it blew up like this?

  If anyone could understand, it would have been her. It should have been her if I had just given her the chance.

  I rinsed the soap off my chest, turned the water off, and grabbed a towel. Chelsea’s was still hanging next to mine.

  I hadn’t bothered calling the store this morning about work. With the firestorm of reporters, I didn’t think Hayden would be looking for me to show, but I was going to have a talk with him. Just not today. I couldn’t take it today.

  I reached in the fridge for a beer, but left it on the shelf. It wasn’t a beer-drinking day. All I wanted was to protect and shield the most amazing girl from my life. Instead, I had wrecked her.

  I heard a knock on the Sand Dollar door. I looked through the window. Rebecca. What in the hell?

  I held the towel tightly against my waist and cracked the door. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hey to you too.” She smiled.

  “Cut it. There aren’t any cameras here unless you invited them.” I closed my eyes. If she had brought the paparazzi onslaught to the campground, I might have to strangle her.

  “Oh, Ben, what has you all pissy about everything? Can I come in?” She eyed the hipbone where the towel edges came together.

  “No. You can’t.” I sighed. I wasn’t about to let her into the only sanctuary I had left—her perfume filling the place.

  “Can’t we at least talk?” She pouted. “I came all this way for you.”

  I didn’t buy it, but this was my chance to figure out what her end game was.

  “Give me five minutes. I’ll be out. But if I see one damn camera, you are going to regret showing up here.”

  “Ok, baby. I’ll just sit right over here.” She pointed at the chairs by the burned-out fire.

  I closed the door behind me and rushed to the bedroom. I hated she was here, but if I played my cards right, I might get some answers. I wasn’t the most sought-after actor for nothing. If I turned on the charm and the dazzling smile, I might turn this around.

  Three minutes later, I emerged wearing a Davis General Store T-shirt, khaki shorts, and flip-flops. I carried two cups of coffee.

  I handed one to Becs. “Here you go. Half a teaspoon of sugar, just how you like it.”

  “Aw, you remember that?” She was sitting in the seat that was designated as Chelsea’s. I gritted my teeth and refrained from saying anything.

  “Of course. I remember a lot of things.” I settled into the chair next to her. The coffee was piping hot. “Like your love of white roses and puppy memes.”

  “That’s sweet. I can say the same thing about you.” She took a sip. “Wow. This view is gorgeous. Have you been here since June?”

  “Yep.”

  “And what do you do in a place like this? It’s kind of remote. Quaint, but remote.” She eyed Silver Sand Dollar. I knew she wasn’t a camper kind of girl. She was a five-star resort kind of girl.

  I tilted my head toward her. “I’ve been keeping busy. There’s more to do here than you think.”

  “Oh right, with the girl.” She sighed.

  I caught myself before I punched back with something nasty. I couldn’t believe she would mention Chelsea after what had happened yesterday.

  “I like the blond. It looks good,” I commented.

  “Really?” She twisted a curl through her fingers. “It’s part of my new image. Blondes are apparently more relatable right now. At least, that’s what Lana Pine tells me.” I didn’t agree. There was a girl with gorgeous sun-kissed auburn hair who I couldn’t get enough of.

  “Lana knows her stuff. You look good.” I winked, my stomach turning sour. “How is she?”

  Rebecca turned to me. “Perfect and brilliant. You know she has so many incredible ideas, Ben. The hair being the first.” She giggled. “The other will be clearing up this whole island girl mess.”

  I nodded as if I understood what she was talking about. Somewhere in this conversation were the answers I was looking for. I needed to keep it going until she revealed them.

  “About that, Becs, how did anyone find out about Chelsea?” I rested my palm on her knee. I had to do it. Rebecca had to believe I was trying to reconnect in some way.

  She grasped the mug with both hands and took a deep sip. “God, Ben, I’m not supposed to tell you this, but I’m starting to feel a little guilty, you know?”

  I twirled a circle on her knee with my thumb. “Becs, it’s you and me. You can tell me. You used to tell me everything.”

  She leaned over. “I know I can. And you won’t get mad, right? Promise you won’t get all Texas cowboy mad at me.”

  “Darlin’,
I promise.” I smiled. “No cowboy here, just a beach bum hanging out with you.”

  Rebecca and I had never had a smooth relationship. When I first met her on the Wanted set, we had clashed immediately. She needed coaching, and when I tried to guide her, she flew off the handle. But she was beautiful, and when she wanted to be, she was sweet. There was a sort of innocence about her that was hard to resist. I had lost that battle more than once.

  “Have you heard about Love & Bondage?” she asked. Her face was excited.

  “Maybe. Isn’t that the book that’s been number one all summer?”

  “It’s not just number one. It’s the book. It’s the hottest thing that has ever been. Nothing has come close to it.”

  I knew she liked to exaggerate. I sat and listened.

  “I think it’s sold seventy million copies or something. It’s hot. And the story is unbelievable.” She had that look. I had seen that look.

  “Ok, Rebecca, so what does all of this have to do with Love & Bondage?”

  “Art Hampton is going to direct it, and they are going to start casting soon. But it has to be the perfect couple. That couple that has fire and passion and will take over the series. This is life changing. It’s the kind of role that will define us.”

  I stared at her. “Us? What in the hell are you talking about? There is no us.” I took my hand off her knee.

  She looked confused. “I’m talking about you and me being cast in the most epic erotic love story ever written. We can be the stars of Love & Bondage.”

  I shook my head. “So, all of this publicity crap is to drum up an endorsement for us to be the stars of some romance movie? You want backing?”

  “It’s not just a romance. It is the biggest love story of all time. And we could do it. We could totally do it.” She bit her bottom lip. “We were pretty amazing in bed together. Imagine transcending that on the screen.”

  This was fucking unbelievable. I wasn’t campaigning for any roles, and if I were, it wasn’t going to be this one.

  “Becs, I don’t think you’ve talked to Rick. I’m out. I’m done with movies. Sorry, sweetheart, but this isn’t going to happen.” I stood to stretch my legs.