Last First Kiss

by Sidney Halston

  Annie huffed but looked down to hide the heat that had crawled up her cheek. She didn’t want Rocco to know how he’d affected her.

  Instead, she followed him up the wrought-iron stairs, taking in the house as she went.

  She’d expected some big ostentatious Hollywood movie star mansion. Either done in stark minimalist modern or opulent gilt and glamour. Instead she found a beautifully cozy home, in an expensive part of Miami, but not the most expensive. According to her research, it was a three-bedroom, four-bath home purchased more than ten years ago, back when he was a rising star.

  The décor was warm and very homey, the walls painted in different tones of white. Comfy-looking leather couches were the focal point of the open layout of the first floor and books lined a big built-in shelving unit. Behind it, a large picture window showcased a kidney-shaped pool surrounded by trees. From what she could see it was a decent size pool, but nothing too decadent. Thanks to Google Maps, she knew that beyond the pool there was a small dock and the bay, where most neighbors parked their boats. As far she knew, he didn’t have a boat.

  It was lovely, all of it. But unexpectedly subdued.

  She took stock of the security. There was a camera by the front gate, barely visible to the untrained eye, that undoubtedly opened via remote. Most people kept the remote in the kitchen next to a small monitor where they could see who was there, and she assumed Rocco was no different.

  Also, there was a security alarm panel right by the front door, and likely another one in the garage, possibly a third in his bedroom. She needed to take a better look later. From what she could tell, it wasn’t a great security system, just the basics. Subpar sensors by all the windows and doors. His code was either his birthday or 1234, if he even bothered turning it on. Since this wasn’t a gated community, there were no additional guards or security monitoring the perimeter.

  Her professional assessment: his security sucked!

  Even if he didn’t have a tangible problem at the moment (which he did), the fact that he was well known and wealthy warranted much more protection than this cheap alarm system.

  “Your security system is pretty pathetic.”

  He stopped walking and turned. “You haven’t even seen it yet.”

  “I’ve seen enough to know. You’re too famous to have such a shitty system.”

  “This is Miami. Not LA. I’m not that big of a deal here.”

  That was bullshit. He was known everywhere. But it did make her wonder . . . “How come you don’t live in LA?”

  “I grew up here and I’ve always liked it,” he replied simply as they reached the landing on the second floor. He walked through a set of double doors and placed her bag next to the bed. “I thought you’d like this room.” He then walked over to a balcony and swung open the doors. “It’s has a view of the bay.”

  The walls were painted a soft blue, with white billowing sheer curtains. A big wrought-iron bed with a bedspread in different shades of light blue was the focal point of the room. It was soft and simple and just beautiful.

  “It’s . . .” she wasn’t sure what words to use as she ran her fingers across the soft silk of the bedding.

  She felt him behind her, close . . . too close. He wasn’t touching her but she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. “Soft. Feminine.”

  She turned and swallowed, suddenly nervous at his nearness. And what made it even worse (or better) was that he didn’t move away, he didn’t do anything but look at her in a way she couldn’t interpret. His eyes roamed over her hair and face for a little too long and she didn’t look away, even when she felt her cheeks flush and her heart begin to hammer against her chest, she kept her hazel eyes on his blue ones. “Thank you for agreeing to this,” he said softly.

  She was sure he was going to kiss her—positive.

  But then he took a step back.

  And all she could focus on was not the fact he hadn’t kissed her, but the fact that she hadn’t made a single attempt to stop him.

  “This room okay?”

  Feminine. Soft. Those were not words anyone would ever use to describe her. Including herself.

  His eyes were on hers, searching. Then he reached forward, startling her, and pulled her sunglasses off her face, his thumb gently grazing her temple. She tried not to jump, even though it felt so foreign. “I prefer to look you in the eyes instead of at my own reflection.”

  She hadn’t even realized she still had them on. Everything about this man made her do stupid things. Feel inappropriate things. When he didn’t look away, she took her glasses from his hand and stepped away, busying herself with her bag. “I know what you’re doing and we should really talk about setting up some ground rules.”

  “What am I doing, Annie?”

  She turned and walked out to the balcony. Talking to him made her feel uncomfortable. This was going to be a problem. How could she protect someone she felt all sorts of unusual feelings for? She could barely even look the man in the eye, for crying out loud!

  “You’re thinking you can woo me into bed with you. I’m sure all those women you’ve dated dropped their panties at a smile from you, but you should know I’m not like any other woman. I can’t be wooed and I’m definitely not your type.”

  From behind she heard him chuckle. “Oh, trust me. I know you’re not like any other woman. And since you think you know my type, I’m assuming you’ve been doing a little research on me? That’s good, I thought you didn’t know who I was.”

  She swallowed and looked away. “You’re so full of shit. Everyone knows who you are. Doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret: I looked you up too.”

  Annie had to fight back the urge to tense up. So what? He’d looked her up. It’s not like her whole stupid story of heartbreak and disaster was available on Facebook. She knew for a fact there was nothing he could find. She was a computer geek, any time her name popped up anywhere, which it rarely did, she made sure to zap it out. She was uncomfortable having herself out there on the internet where the seediest of people lived.

  “Why? I’m no one special,” she replied, proud of how casual she sounded.

  “Because you’re going to be living with me. Pretending we’re dating. I needed to make sure there wasn’t anything crazy out there. But I’m sure you already know, there was nothing on you. You know what that means, right?” She looked at him, her eyebrow cocked high, waiting for what he was going to say. “It means I’ll have to figure everything out myself. And the first thing I want to know is why you have that huge chip on your shoulder.”

  Annie gave him the finger.

  “I don’t have a chip on my shoulder. Go challenge someone else. I’m not that kind of girl.”

  “What kind of girl is that?”

  “The kind whose panties melt right off at the mere sight of Rocco Monroe.” She batted her eyelashes and puckered her lips in jest. “And speaking of that, I hope you know I’m not sleeping with you. I’m here to do a job. When we’re in public I can tone it down, give the impression we’re dating, but in here, you’re just my client.”

  “First, I would never expect you to sleep with me for your job or for any sort of pretending.” He crossed his arms, looking annoyed. “I like my women actually interested.”

  “Good to know. And I’m not, by the way. Interested, I mean.” Ugh . . . she rambled when she was nervous. It was a bad habit and she needed to stop doing it. The damn man was making her a wreck. “So, no sleeping together. Or kissing.”

  He moved closer, an eyebrow cocked high on his forehead. “No, that won’t work. People will see right through this if we never kiss. We don’t have to make out, but you can’t just rule out kissing altogether.”

  Ugh!

  “Fine. If the moment presents itself.”

  He smiled wide. “We’re negotiating. It’s like we’re a real couple already.”

  She rolled her eyes. The man was freakin’ charming.

  Th
is was going to be a very difficult four months if the center of every conversation was going to be how to get into her pants. “Whatever, man. The point is, I’m here to work.”

  “And part of that work entails that you pretend we’re dating.”

  “That’s outside this house. In here, I’m just your bodyguard.”

  He stepped closer, his breath too close to her ear. “But out there, you’re mine,” he said, in a tone she hadn’t heard come out of him before. Not the day he’d met him, not during all the interviews she’d seen on him on television, not even in the different roles he’d played. It wasn’t humorously said. It was . . . a statement. A threat. A promise, even.

  She’d never been anyone’s. She’d never wanted to be anyone’s. But the idea of being Rocco Monroe’s felt . . . exhilarating.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Rumors of a sex tape featuring Rocco Monroe have Colombians up in arms. Mendoza, who is a demigod to many . . .

  She’d been here for three hours, Joey had long ago left, and Rocco hadn’t heard a peep from her. He knocked on her door softly. “Annie?”

  “Yeah. Come in.” He opened the door to find her sprawled on the bed with a book in her hand.

  “What are you reading?”

  She turned the book to show him the cover: The Art of War by Sun Tzu. He couldn’t help but smile. How could he expect anything less from her? “Some light reading, I see.”

  She smiled and sat up. “Well, it’s not as juicy as reading all about your sex tape scandal, but it’ll do.” It was the first time he’d seen her smile. Her eyes crinkled at the corners and her nose scrunched up just a tiny bit, making her look younger.

  “Don’t believe everything you read. It’s bullshit.”

  “None of my business.” She shrugged. “Technically, I don’t start until tomorrow. But I wanted to get settled in so that I’d be ready to start in the morning. I didn’t want to get in your way.”

  “You’re not in the way. We have to stick together for the next few months, we better get all the awkwardness out of the way soon. Don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I should probably start by apologizing for the other day. I shouldn’t have flipped you off. I probably should have said that earlier today. Although you were a sexist asshole, so . . . there’s that.”

  “So you’re not apologizing? I’m not following.”

  She bit her bottom lip. “I am apologizing. About the finger. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  She was cute. “And you’re right. I was being an asshole. I’m sorry about that. I misjudged you. And well . . . you kicked my ass and made your point. Let’s call it even?”

  “Deal.” Why was she being so amenable all of a sudden? It was nice, but he couldn’t help be suspicious at the change.

  “What?” she asked, sitting up. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “You weren’t this nice earlier.”

  She sagged a bit and he couldn’t help but smile. He wanted to walk further into the room and sit beside her on the bed, but she’d been so defensive earlier, he didn’t think she’d welcome him in her space. “I had some time to think and I think I was unnecessarily bitchy earlier.”

  Yes, he wanted to yell. But being the intelligent man that he was, he kept his trap shut. “It’s okay. No sweat,” he said, leaning against the armoire casually. She nodded and sat back on the middle of the bed, taking some papers and placing them on her lap. “Since you’re here, you want to discuss the schedule for the week?” She patted the space at the foot of the bed. It was her way of giving him permission to get closer, he noted.

  “Sure.” He sat down and pulled out his phone where he kept all his dates.

  “It’s weird you don’t have an assistant, by the way.”

  “I like things done my way.”

  Her eyebrows furrowed. “Oh damn, don’t tell me you’re a control freak.”

  “No. It’s not that, not at all, actually. Just, I don’t know, I’m not used to people doing things for me. I had an assistant for a few months once, but I just prefer to do it myself. Paying someone to do what I’m perfectly capable of doing for myself seems wrong or something.” He flipped through his week’s schedule, and then looked up. She was looking at him differently. As if it was the first time she’d ever actually seen him. “You okay over there, Tiger?”

  “Uh, yeah. Sorry. Yes. So what do you got?”

  It was odd to have someone on his bed that he couldn’t touch, but he had to admit she looked good there. And he liked that she’d made herself comfortable. What he didn’t like was how quick she shifted back into all-business mode. It left him feeling discombobulated. He looked away from her questioning eyes and down at the calendar on his phone. “Um . . . okay, on Thursday I have a meeting with the studio at the Palms Hotel, and after that Spelling is having a pre-production dinner at his house on Star Island. Then on Friday, I have a fundraiser gala at Vizcaya.”

  She skimmed her notes. “And then on Saturday you have a Skype meeting with the studio heads from NHN, Sunday you’re free, and on Monday production begins. We’ll get a schedule and location detail for that soon, right?” She didn’t look back up until she was finished, and when she did look up, a chunk of her hair, which had been piled up high on her head in some sort of messy bun, fell out and covered her right eye. She tucked it behind her ear and continued to look at him, puzzled. But he was so taken by the action, for some reason, that he couldn’t look away. The way her delicate fingers and her lithe arms moved. It was astounding to think this was the same woman who had body-flipped him. “Rocco? Did I miss an event?” She looked back down to her schedule. “Paul sent this to me, I thought I had it all.”

  “Um.” He looked down at his phone. “Sunday I have a Boys and Girls Club thing in the morning.”

  She flipped the sheet front and back. “I don’t see that here.”

  “Because it’s something I don’t normally publicize. I don’t want the paparazzi following and disrupting.”

  She looked at him for a moment, almost waiting for the punchline. He hated how most people thought they knew him from whatever bullshit they’d read in a tabloid. Yes, he volunteered his time, privately. And it ticked him off that she, of all people, would find the notion of him volunteering to be absurd. Eventually she shrugged and wrote it down on her schedule. “Anything else I missed?”

  “No, that’s about it. Sometimes things come up. And those were just events. I do leave the house, Annie. Like to go jogging, or visit friends or whatever . . .”

  “No problem. I jog and can be perfectly civil with your friends. Just let me know of anything else you may have going on. You can’t leave without me. You’re stuck with me. You can go ahead and assume that anywhere you go for the next four months, I’ll be there too.” Then she looked down, and her cheeks reddened. “And if you need time alone . . . you know . . . to entertain—just let me know and I’ll make myself scarce. I won’t like, be inside with you, because, well, that’s weird. But I do need to make sure the location is safe and secure, and I can’t be too far away. In fact, if you could give me a heads-up, it would be best. That way I can send someone from ICS to secure the area first. But, anyway, I won’t cramp your style.”

  Holy shit, she was cute.

  And crazy.

  “When I said ‘entertain’ at our first meeting, I meant, entertain. Like, use the pool, cocktails, maybe a barbeque. I can keep my dick in my pants, Annie.”

  She held her palms up. “None of my business.”

  He reached for her hands. They felt small and soft in his. “Do me a favor, will ya? Don’t believe everything you read. Whatever preconceived notion you have of me . . . it’s wrong. I sell an image, but that image isn’t the real me. So please don’t assume anything. Just ask me, okay?” He placed her hands down on the bed and now her cheeks were redder than a moment ago.

  She swallowed. “Yeah, okay. Sorry about that. Sometimes I ramble.”

  “I noticed. It’s
cute and a bit crazy.”

  She snorted and then covered her mouth. “Yeah, so I’ve been told.” He stood up and extended his hand to her. “My friend Paul is coming by to go over some things and I’m going to grill some steaks. Why don’t you come join us?”

  “Paul Allen. Your agent. Friends since you were young. Works at Allen and Associates.”

  “Uh . . . yes. That one. Shoe size eleven.”

  “Oh, I actually didn’t know that, I’ll have to annotate my notes.”

  Was that a joke? Her easy smile made him think she was teasing him. Obviously she’d done her homework, not just on him but on everyone.

  “So, dinner?”

  “Nah, I’m good. But thank you for the offer. Did you receive a box I had delivered?”

  “The protein shit?”

  She rolled her eyes. “The protein shakes, yes.”

  “Wendy put them in the pantry.”

  She sat up a little straighter, and her fingers stopped moving. “Wendy?”

  “She comes by most days to clean,” he explained.

  “Oh, okay. Wow, why didn’t I know about a Wendy?” She picked up her file and started skimming through it. “Thanks for the dinner offer. I’ll just grab one of my shakes later on.”

  “You’re going to have a shake instead of dinner?”

  She looked up and shrugged. “Yeah. No biggie. Tomorrow I want to do a full walk-through of the house.” Then she hopped off the bed and walked to the door, standing by it as if dismissing him. “Again, your security system sucks. But we’ll sort it out.”

  “Um . . . okay.”

  “Have a good evening, Rocco.”

  Shocked and disconcerted, he walked out as the door closed behind him.

  Did she kick me out of the room?

  Yes, I think she did.

  * * *

  “What’s up with you?” Paul asked an hour later, after they’d gone over a bunch of paperwork, none of which Rocco had read or even glanced at. He had been so damn distracted. His mind was reeling. She was not affected by him. She really wasn’t going to walk across the hall to his room in the middle of the night in just a red lace thong and sit on his face so he could ravage her pussy.