Hot Off the Red Carpet

by Paige Tyler

  Hot Off The Red Carpet

  By

  Paige Tyler

  ©2012 by Blushing Books® and Paige Tyler

  Copyright © 2012 by Blushing Books® and Paige Tyler

  All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by Blushing Books®,

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  Tyler, Paige

  Hot Off The Red Carpet

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-60968-731-1

  Cover Design: by ABCD Graphics

  Blushing Publications thanks you whole-heartedly for your purchase with us!

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  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

  Chapter One

  Breathe, Addison Mattingly told herself. But the whole in-through-nose-out-through-mouth thing was a little hard to do when she was sitting in front of the palatial Beverly Hills home of the hottest actor in Hollywood, Trevor Braden.

  She still couldn’t believe the guards at the gate had let her in. She’d been sure the men would see right through her charade. In all honesty, she was still a little bit afraid the cops might show up and drag her off at any minute. Then again, the guards really didn’t have any reason to suspect she wasn’t who she said she was. Her name was listed on the access roster as Trevor Braden’s new personal assistant, after all.

  Okay, to be honest, her name wasn’t on the access roster – her sister’s was.

  Her twin sister, Madison - the perfect one - had gotten the job as Trevor Braden’s personal assistant. She always got everything she wanted, usually with little effort on her part. It had been like that from the time they were little. Everything just seemed to go the other girl’s way. Of the two of them, Madison had always gotten the higher grades, the cuter boyfriends, the better job offers. She had “over-achiever” stamped all over her resume. When she had applied for the position as Trevor Braden’s personal assistant, it had been on nothing more than a whim. But of course, she had gotten the job. She hadn’t even had to go to LA for a face-to-face interview with the actor. Her resume was so impressive that his manager had hired her over the phone.

  While Addison had stopped being jealous of her sister’s accomplishments a long time ago, the fact that Madison had managed to land this job had really hurt. Addison idolized Trevor Braden. Well, maybe not idolized him. But she definitely had a huge crush on the man, and Madison knew it. To think that her sister would be spending practically every waking hour with the gorgeous movie star had almost been enough to make Addison scream.

  But then, two days before she was supposed to move down to LA, Madison had decided she didn’t want the job anymore.

  “Sure, Trevor Braden is a hottie,” she’d told Addison. “And while being his personal assistant would have its perks, I don’t feel like spending my time babysitting some spoiled Hollywood actor. Where’s the long-term potential in that?”

  Then Madison had announced she’d taken a job as a personal assistant to some two-hundred-year-old Wall Street banker instead. Addison had just stared at her sister in disbelief, unable to believe that she would give up the chance to work for Trevor Braden. But apparently, Madison had visions of Manhattan penthouses, stock options, and a corner office at a prestigious big name firm. Who cared if the guy she was going to be working for was old enough to be her grandfather?

  “If you think being Trevor Braden’s personal assistant is so great, why don’t you do it?” Madison had sneered. “Oh, I forgot. You couldn’t get the job – not even in your dreams.”

  A few hours later, Madison had left for the East Coast, but not before she’d asked Addison to call Trevor Braden’s manager and tell him that she had changed her mind about taking the job.

  But Addison hadn’t called. Deciding that she’d had enough of her sister’s gloating, she had put on the only suit she owned, thrown the rest of her clothes in a couple of suitcases, and driven down the coast to Los Angeles.

  Now, sitting in front of his house in her rather beat up Camry, she was too petrified to move. What the hell had she been thinking? She couldn’t pull this off. She didn’t know the first thing about being a personal assistant. Before she’d left San Francisco, she’d done some research on the Internet to get an idea of what the job entailed, and from everything she’d read, it sounded more than a little demanding. Madison might be a Grade-A bitch most of the time, but she had been right about one thing. Addison could have never gotten this job on her experience.

  Though Addison had gone to a good college, it hadn’t been the Ivy League school that her twin had gone to. And whereas her sister had known exactly what she’d wanted to do, Addison had taken a little of everything. While she had enjoyed it, she’d ended up graduating with what amounted to a four-year liberal arts degree. Though it was nothing to scoff at, it hadn’t helped her figure out what she wanted to do with her life.

  So, while her sister had gone on to get her Master’s degree in business administration, which had led to a very prestigious intern position, Addison had moved from one job to another after college. Even now, at twenty-eight, she still wasn’t sure exactly where she was headed. But she was damn sure she was going to like it when she got there.

  Addison looked up at the huge, two-story house again and debated about what she should do. Common sense told her she should turn the car around and go back home to San Francisco. But how could she pass up an opportunity like this? If she left, she knew would end up regretting it for the rest of her life. On the other hand, if she stayed, she ran the risk of completely humiliating herself in front of Trevor Braden. She cringed at the thought.

  Chiding herself for being such a coward, she started to turn the key in the ignition when a flash of movement in one of the upstairs windows caught her eye. She blinked. Oh God. It was him. Trevor Braden. Had he been pulling on his shirt? Was he just getting dressed? Or better yet, undressed? She blushed at the image that thought conjured up.

  Before she even realized what she was doing, Addison was out of the car and hurrying up the front steps to ring the doorbell.

  Unable to believe she was really doing this, she stood there holding her breath, her pulse racing. She should have run a brush through her hair before she got out of the car, she thought. And checked her make-up, too. God, she hoped she looked all right. But before she could think about it anymore, the door swung open.

  Addison had expected a maid to open the door. Maybe a butler. Or even a bodyguard. Heck, even his manager. Anyone but Trevor Braden himself.

  But there he stood. All mouth-watering, six-foot-four inches of him. And even more gorgeous in person.

  She’d known he was tall, of course, but in real life, he seemed taller. His shoulders seemed broader, too. And his soulful dark eyes a more golden brown. His dark hair was slightly tousled as if he’d just run his fingers through it, and there was a slight scruff of beard outlining that amazingly chiseled jaw. He hadn’t bothered to tuck in the button-up shirt he was wearing, and beneath his jeans, his feet were bare. She
’d been right. He had been getting dressed.

  “Hi,” he said, giving her a smile. “Come on in.”

  Addison blinked. Trevor Braden, the most gorgeous, in-demand, sexiest hunk in Hollywood had just spoken to her. And she was just standing there staring at him like a dufus.

  When she didn’t reply, his brow furrowed. “You are Madison Mattingly, right? My new assistant.”

  “Addison,” she automatically corrected. She was so used to people getting them mixed up that she’d done it without even thinking.

  His frown deepened. “Oh. Sorry about that. I thought Murray said your name was Madison. I must have misheard him.” He flashed her another grin. “And I’m usually pretty good at remembering names. Comes with the job.”

  Addison would have laughed at his joke, but she was too busy calling herself an idiot. How the heck could she expect to pull this off if she was already making mistakes like that? Crap! But she supposed it was too late to backtrack now. Even if she could, though, she wouldn’t. For some ridiculous reason, she wanted Trevor Braden to call her by her own name instead of her sister’s.

  “It’s Addison, actually,” she explained, giving him a smile. “But it’s easy to see how he could have mistaken it for Madison.”

  Trevor nodded. “Addison it is then.” He took a step back. “Come on in.”

  Addison took a deep breath and stepped into the entryway. The inside of the house was as beautiful as the outside. Though obviously expensive, it wasn’t ostentatious at all. Instead, it was decorated in sleek, modern lines. Designed with an open floor-plan, it had two sweeping staircases that met in the middle and underneath them, Addison could see a set of French doors. Beyond that, there was a huge patio with a beautiful swimming pool.

  “So, how was the drive down?” Trevor asked as he shut the door.

  She turned to look at him, her pulse skipping a little at his words. Good heavens, from the way her body was reacting, you’d think he’d just asked her go to the Oscars with him or something. He was only making small talk, for heaven’s sake.

  Addison reached up to tuck her long, blond hair behind her ear. “Fine, thanks.”

  He nodded. “That’s good. Well, if your car is unlocked, I’ll go grab your bags and bring them up to your room.”

  She looked at him in surprise. Hollywood actors didn’t offer to carry suitcases for the hired help. Or at least she’d never thought they did.

  Abruptly realizing he was still waiting for an answer, she opened her mouth to tell him that she could bring in her bags herself when a man’s voice interrupted her.

  “Don’t be silly. That’s what Bob’s here for, Trevor. He can go out and get them.”

  Addison saw Trevor’s mouth tighten at the words and she turned to see two men walking into the entryway. One was tall with dark hair and built like a football player; the other was closer to her height, bespectacled, and didn’t look athletic in the least.

  The man with the glasses held out his hand. “You must be Madison. I’m Murray Siedle, Trevor’s manager,” he said. “We spoke on the phone.”

  She reached out to shake his hand. “It’s Addison, actually,” she said.

  The small man looked at her in confusion for a moment, and Addison felt herself tense. But then he laughed, much to her relief. “I must have gotten your name wrong, I guess. Sorry about that.” He glanced at Trevor. “I’m going to go get Addison up to speed. Let Bob get her bags and take them up to her bedroom, would you?”

  Trevor looked like he wanted to say something in reply to his manager’s words, but Murray didn’t give him a chance. Instead, the man took Addison’s arm and hurried her toward the back of the house. She barely had time to glance over her shoulder at Trevor before Murray hustled her into a room and shut the door.

  Addison tottered a little on her four-inch heels as she came to a stop. She looked around the room and saw that it was an office, and a very well-equipped one at that. She wondered if it was Murray’s or hers. Did a personal assistant even have an office?

  Murray walked over to the desk. “Your resume is very impressive, Addison,” he said as he picked up a thick leather-bound book. “Trevor’s going to be in good hands with you, I know it.”

  She felt herself blush at the less-than-professional image the manager’s words conjured up.

  Murray didn’t seem to notice her heightened color as he flipped through the day-planner in his hands. “Everything you need is in this book, so familiarize yourself with it. It has all the important contact numbers, as well as Trevor’s schedule. He has two appointments this evening. One is a talk-show interview at a studio down in Burbank in a couple of hours, and the other is back here later tonight. He’s meeting with a director about a new movie.”

  Trevor was making a new movie? She hoped it was one of those action/adventure flicks where he took his shirt off a lot. Those were her favorites. Before she could ask, though, Murray continued.

  “For the interview in Burbank, you’ll need to coordinate with his driver so make sure you do that right after we get done here. He’s usually out back in the cottage. Or you can call him if that’d be easier. The number’s in the book,” he said. “I don’t know if you did this kind of stuff at your previous position, but just give him the standard info. The pick-up and drop-off times on the sticky note there. Which studio you’re going to. Things like that. Oh, and make sure to check that the limo is well stocked with Dasani Lemon. Trevor prefers it to the regular and I think that damn driver is sucking it down himself.”

  Dasani Lemon, huh? That was a new tidbit of information about Trevor that she didn’t know. And she thought she knew everything about him!

  “When you get to the studio, take Trevor to his dressing room, and then talk to the producer doing the show, make sure he knows which questions are out of bounds,” Murray continued. “Get with stage manager, too. Trevor hates having studio lights pointing right in his eyes. Oh, and no autographs afterward. Trevor will want to sign them, but don’t let him. He’s on a tight schedule and I don’t want him late for his meeting with the director. Speaking of which, tell the cook not to make any kind of hors d’oeuvres that have seafood in them. The director has some sort of thing against fish and won’t touch the stuff. Piss off the director and Trevor can kiss the part goodbye.”

  * * *

  Addison felt like her head was spinning. She was just thinking that maybe she should ask Murray to run through the list if instructions again so she could take notes when the manager announced that he needed to get with Trevor about a photo shoot he’d set up.

  “Oh, by the way,” Murray added as he left. “Your bedroom is just down the hall from Trevor’s. Bob will show you where it is. If you need anything, my number is in the book.”

  Addison was so excited about her bedroom being down the hall from Trevor’s that she barely heard the rest of what Murray said. Not only would she get to see the gorgeous Trevor Braden every day, but she’d get to sleep right down the hall from him. If she weren’t so afraid someone might see, she’d do a little happy dance right there in the office!

  Abruptly remembering the day-planner she was holding, Addison paged through it until she found the number for Trevor’s driver. He answered right away and she gave him all the necessary information. She even remembered to mention the part about making sure the bar in the limo was stocked with Dasani Lemon.

  Thinking that she should probably take Murray up on his suggestion to familiarize herself with Trevor’s schedule, she took a few minutes to look through the day-planner. There were talk-show appearances and photo shoots mixed in with his regular filming schedule, plus some red-carpet events, including the premiere for his new movie. God, he was really busy.

  A knock interrupted her and she looked up to see Bob standing in the open doorway. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said. But Murray wanted me to show you to your room.”

  “Oh, okay.” She closed the day-planner and slipped it into her shoulder bag.

  “I’m Bob
Davitt, by the way,” the big man said as she stepped out of the room. “I’m Trevor’s bodyguard.”

  From the way he was built, Addison should have guessed. “I’m Addison Mattingly,” she said, and then realized he probably already knew that. She reached up to tuck her long, ash blonde hair behind her ear. “Thanks for bringing my bags up to my room.”

  “No problem,” he said. “I’ll give you a quick tour of the house on the way. That way you’ll know where everything is.”

  The house was so big that Addison thought she might actually need a map to find her way around it. In addition to the spacious and very plush living room, there were three formal dining rooms, a huge gym, a media room that could have doubled for a movie theater, a recreation room with a pool table and video games, and another office like the one Murray had taken her to, not to mention more bedrooms than she could count.

  When they stopped by the kitchen, Bob introduced her to the cook, Maribel. Or personal chef, as Bob called her. Plump with dark hair that had gone gray in places, the other woman gave her a warm smile and told her that if she needed anything, she should just ask. It wasn’t until Bob was leading her upstairs a little while later that Addison remembered what Murray had said about the hors d’oeuvres. Rather than go back right then, Addison decided that she’d just stop by and talk to Maribel about them before she and Trevor left.

  The bedroom Bob showed her to was huge, not to mention absolutely beautifully decorated, and Addison couldn’t help but gasp. Her entire apartment would fit in here. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration. But the room really was big.

  “If you need anything, just yell,” Bob said before heading back down the hall.

  “I will,” Addison said. She started to close the door, but then poked her head out. “Bob?”