Accidental Texting: Finding Love despite the Spotlight

by Kimberly Montague

  "Morgan?" Stewie put his hand on my shoulder. "Sean!" Sean took the phone from underneath my fingers while Stewie jumped up and ran to the screen, pressing something that muted the music as well as the TV in the living room.

  "Hello, Brent," Sean said into my phone. My hands were trembling, and Stewie came back to put his arm around my shoulders. Nathan came to stand on the other side of me with his hand on mine. "This is Sean Wilder… No, I'm quite serious… Well, here's the thing, she has no interest in talking to you. I, however, am very interested in having a little chat with you, face-to-face…" The way he drew out the word "very" made me cringe. He sounded so calculating and a little frightening.

  "No threat, Brent. I just want to make sure you have a strong grasp on the fact that you will not see Morgan or speak to her ever again… I can assure you, Brent, I don't need their help… Well, if you're serious about pursuing her, I'll just come on down to the Hampford Inn on highway 53 and chat with you a little while in room number 238… Actually I'm fairly surprised you haven't noticed the investigators I've had tailing you since you contacted Morgan… I can, Brent, and I can do a lot more… Stay away from her, or you'll find out." He pulled the phone from his ear and looked at it before tossing the phone to Troy. Troy walked out the back door with my phone, and Sean pulled me into his arms.

  In my ear, he softly whispered, "I won't let him hurt you, sweetie. You know that, right?"

  I nodded, and the trembling slowly stopped. I was disturbed more than I was afraid. What the hell did he want anyway?

  "Tomorrow, we're all training," he said loudly and several of the guys groaned. Then he put his mouth to my ear again. "Tonight, I'll give you a few private lessons." The way he said it kicked all thoughts of Brent out of my head and made my insides swirl in anticipation. He was turning me into some kind of nymphomaniac or something. He pulled away from me and gave me a lopsided smirk. "Isn't she the most beautiful thing when she blushes?" He said it out loud for everyone to hear, and since they'd all come into the kitchen when Sean was talking to Brent, they were all agreeing and making comments around me. I buried my face in my arms on the counter.

  Sean assigned the guys tasks to get the table ready for dinner, and we all moved over there. His shrimp scampi and linguine was delicious, and I was thinking how crazy it was that he was a world-famous movie-star and an excellent cook all at the same time. It seemed like he should only be allowed to be great at one thing. When we'd finished eating, Craig and Nathan were kind enough to pick up all the dishes. The guys sat around talking about music and old football stories, leaving me to my own thoughts. I was surprised when I caught Anthony staring at me. I looked him in the eye and raised my eyebrows in question.

  He smiled and leaned forward a bit. "Turn your head to the right, Morgan."

  I glared at him, but Sean, who was seated to my right, crooked his finger at me. I turned my head and leaned closer to him. He had his elbow on the table in front of him, and he put his finger underneath my chin, pulling my lips gently to his. I couldn't quite lose myself in the kiss since Sean was busy smiling over the comments around us.

  "Shit, Sean, what are you sixteen again?"

  "Impressive really."

  "That's nothing, I once gave some chick a hickey so bad it swelled right up."

  "You're full of shit."

  The only voice I could distinguish was Stewie's when he said, "You better hope the photographers don't get a picture of that."

  Sean pulled away from me immediately and leaned back to glare at Stewie, who was on the other side of me. "Let 'em. I'm sick of this shit, Stew. I'm at the point where I don't care how much money I'll lose. Just kill the rest of my appearances with Michelle. I don't want to deal with her anymore."

  "Sean…" Stewie scrubbed his face with his hand. "You already know what I'm going to say to you. You know this isn't just about your money. This is about everyone involved in the project. If you don't promote these two movies, the franchise loses money and everyone involved gets hurt. Do you want innocent people to be caught in this because remember whose idea this was—"

  Sean groaned loudly and leaned back, throwing his arm across the back of my chair. "Look. I'll go on talk shows, I'll do SNL next month, I'll give Entertainment Weekly that interview, but I will not take her to the Golden Globes next month. If I have to present with her, fine, but I'm not doing it as her damn boyfriend. I'm taking Morgan, or I'm not going."

  "What?" I hadn't meant to screech, but I couldn't hold back my shock. "No. I—I can't go."

  He leaned forward and stroked my cheek gently. "Yes you can. I'm not going with out you."

  "No—no—I don't want to. It's—that's the—the Golden Globes. I mean—I always watch it on TV with Cerise and Annalisa in our sweats. I—me—no."

  "Love, they're people just like you and me."

  I was shaking my head so much that he pulled me into his arms. I rubbed my cheek against his chest, breathing in his cologne. He didn't seriously think I would be by his side at the Golden Globes in less than a month, did he?

  "She doesn't want to get all dressed up and be your arm candy at the freaking Golden Globes?"

  I recognized Anthony's high-pitched tone. He sounded a little angry, but when did he not sound angry?

  "Who the hell is this chick?" Anthony asked loudly.

  Sean surprised me by chuckling. "I tried to tell you. You couldn't just believe me and Nathan and Stew. You just had to see it for your own eyes."

  "It's not normal, Sean. Shit, how many skanks have pushed their way into your pants for a shot at a red carpet? And she—"

  I lifted my head and leaned forward on the table, staring daggers at Anthony. "I'm still here, you asshole! If you can't watch what you fucking say then keep your damn mouth shut!" Everyone stared at me. There were several dropped jaws. Anthony looked a little frightened. Good, I thought. I was sick and tired of his crap! Why did he stick around if he didn't like me? Why was he bringing up all the women Sean had slept with in front of me? Did he really think I was weak and would let him push me away from Sean?

  Sean leaned forward and put his arm back around my shoulders. "Sweetie, he was actually complimenting you." Anthony nodded, but he stopped as soon as I glared up at him. "He thought you were out for my money or fame or just the excitement of being around a celebrity. He has trust issues."

  "Well, hell, Sean, she—"

  I hadn't even noticed Nathan get up, but he was suddenly behind Anthony with his hand firmly grabbing his shoulder. "You might wanna just quit while you're ahead, man."

  Sean whispered in my ear. "You okay?"

  I glared at him, and he put his hands up, but he was still smirking. Something about that smug, amused look on his face made me want to kick him, hard. It was patronizing, like he thought I was adorable in my anger. His buddies all around me, looking similarly amused over my response just made me so much angrier, and Sean was the easiest target. "I swear, Sean, wipe that damn smirk off your face, or I'll do it for you."

  His eyebrows shot up then he pushed his chair back and stood up, putting his hand out to me. "Come on, I think we should start training now." I rolled me eyes. I was so not having sex with him right now, but he leaned down closer to my ear. "I mean in the garage—there's a punching bag I'd like you to hit instead of my face."

  I shoved the chair back roughly and stomped toward the back door, deciding I could really use a punching bag.

  I'll Always Choose You

  The freezing cold walk from the house to the garage—just about twenty feet—burned off a bit of my anger. I hadn't been in the garage yet, so I was completely unprepared for what I saw. The lower level had windows everywhere. The floor was covered in some kind of black foam-like matting with a large, thick, blue foam mat in the center. Against the walls, there was all sorts of workout equipment—free weights, a weight machine, an elliptical machine, a stationary bike, and a treadmill. Sean pulled me all the way to the back where a large punching bag was mounted on a bracket-
like thing in the ceiling.

  "Let's start with how to throw a punch without breaking your hand."

  I tilted my head and narrowed my eyes at him, putting my hand on my hip. His calm and almost excited demeanor pissed me off. "I know how to throw a punch. I'd be happy to demonstrate on you, though." The somewhat shocked look he gave me made me feel guilty immediately. I dropped my hand and walked away from him—he didn't deserve the attitude I was giving him.

  "Okay, come here."

  I kept walking—not toward the door, just around the room—trying my damnedest to lose the anger. It wasn't working. I didn't even know why I was so angry. It wasn't like Anthony had been acting out of character. That comment about the other women Sean had been with just really slapped me in the face, and I was feeling like I needed to slap someone in retribution.

  "Morgan, just come back over here. Please?"

  I shook my head, but stomped my way back to him. The second I got within arm's reach, he grabbed my hand, wrapped his other incredibly large hand around the back of my neck, and pulled me forcefully into him. I hadn't been expecting it at all and actually gasped when he lifted me up and put me on the countertop we'd been standing next to. His tongue slid into my mouth, and the taste of him was enough to make me let go of the anger, replacing it with the feeling of being incredibly turned on by his aggressiveness. He pulled my sweater off my shoulder roughly and attacked my skin with his lips. I wanted him to keep going, keep grinding his body into mine, but the second his hand cupped my breast, he pulled away, leaving me sitting on the counter.

  He ran his hand through his hair and looked to the corner of the room. Oddly, he put two fingers to his forehead and waved them away as if in salute. It was then that I noticed the camera mounted in the same corner he was staring at.

  The smirk on his face as he turned back to me left me thinking we'd chosen the wrong room to have this discussion. I was betting Sean was thinking the same thing.

  He chuckled at me. "At least I now know what to do when you're pissed off." He walked backward until he reached the mat in the middle of the room then sat down, letting his legs stretch out in front of him. "This room is being filmed. The screens that will be in every room—the one in the kitchen—allows the guys to access all the cameras at all times. I guarantee they just saw that, which is why I'm going to stay right here."

  I hopped off the counter. "Is that the only camera in the room?"

  "Yes. The garage isn't attached to the house, so one camera is enough." I smirked, getting a brilliant idea, and walked to where the camera was, trailing my fingers on the countertop, the weight machine, and everything I passed. Then I stopped and faced Sean, who spun his legs around to face me and the camera. Slowly, I walked toward him, unbuttoning the front of my sweater, being careful to keep my back in line with the camera. "Morgan, what are you doing?"

  "If they want a show—" I raised my eyebrow and threw my sweater at him. He smirked. I reached for my tank top, and yanked it off.

  "Anthony really seems to piss you off," he said with a slight smile. "I definitely need to keep him around if this is the kind of revenge you take against him. It's just so unfair that I'm being used as an innocent pawn in all of this." His eyes were on my breasts as he spoke, and I unclasped my bra. "You'll have to make it up to me later." I felt really bold and sexy as he stared at me and shook his head. "Damn, I want you so bad it freaking hurts. If you show much more though, I'm damn positive he'll forget about our friendship and take you away from me."

  "He hates me. It's not like that's going to change soon."

  "You're wrong about that one, sweetie. He hates you for me. He's more protective of his friends than even I am—comes from a pretty screwed up childhood. If it weren't for me and how much I freaking love you, he'd be on you faster than you can blink." When I was a few feet away from him, I got down on my hands and knees and crawled to him with my butt sticking up in the air.

  I crawled up his lap and straddled his hips. He cupped my breast boldly, and I moved my arms down to block anything that might be seen. He held the back of my neck in his other strong hand.

  "But if he checked out your butt, even once, I'd kill him. He knows that. They all know that. I'm still the best fighter among us, and they're pretty damn good. I had a really tough time letting Alvin leave here just because I saw him hugging you like that. I'm possessive as hell. But I hold it back for you."

  He placed open-mouthed kisses along my upper chest and pushed my upper body away from him so he could reach the tops of my breasts. "Aren't you afraid they'll check me out now?" I asked breathlessly.

  "It's off, love." He sucked gently on my nipple.

  He made it impossible to put together complete thoughts. "What?"

  His deep chuckle made me reattach my lips to his as his hands kneaded my breasts. When my ears caught up to my brain, I pushed him away. "Did you just say the camera is off?" He grinned, and I smacked him in the chest as hard as I could before standing up to retrieve my clothes. "You jerk! You knew what I was doing, and you—" I hooked my bra back on and walked over to the punching bag. My hands were clenched into fists long before I got there. With my left foot forward and my knees slightly bent, I put my fists up in front of my lowered chin. I bounced my weight back and forth a few times and used the momentum of the movement to push off my back foot, twisting my upper body and sending my right fist into the bag. I'd even managed to remember not to fully extend my elbow.

  "Damn." Sean whistled. "That was the sexiest thing I've ever seen. Take off your clothes, and do it again." I rolled my eyes at him and put my fists up in his direction, but he just smirked. "Oh, sweetie, I said it was sexy, not miraculous." Sticking out my lower lip, I did my best pouty face as he walked over to me. "Fine, let's see how much power you have." He put up his bare palms.

  I dropped my fists. "I'm not going to punch your bare hands."

  "You won't break me, love. Come on, I wanna see what I'm working with here. Unless you're scared—afraid I'll laugh at your cute little girl strength?"

  Okay. Apparently he wanted to play it that way. I held up a finger—a polite one as opposed to the impolite one I really wanted to use—and took a moment to pull off my boots. Barefoot, I was much better able to bounce on the balls of my feet. I put up my fists and threw a couple light jabs at him. He smirked for a moment, but then straightened his face. He was hiding his amusement over my tiny girl strength. Hmph! I twisted back and threw my shoulder and hips forward, pushing a right jab straight into his palm—hard. His eyes widened, and he lowered his hands.

  "Who trained you?" His face was serious now, almost angry or jealous. I shrugged and went back to the center of the room for my tank top. "Where did you learn that?"

  "Here and there."

  "An ex-boyfriend?"

  I didn't want to admit where I'd really learned it so I just shrugged.

  "It wasn't Brent was it?" I pulled on my tank top and looked up at him half expecting to see a little worry. He didn't look the least bit worried, but he definitely didn't look happy.

  "No. Why does it matter where I learned it? I know how to throw a few punches, what's the big deal?"

  He let out a sigh and leaned against the counter. "It doesn't. It just—you surprised me. You keep doing that. I guess I should be used to it by now."

  Walking over to him and his somewhat sad face, I stood between his legs and wrapped my arms around his neck. "A cardio video game."

  The disgusted look on his face was so funny I couldn't hold my laughter in. He stared at me like that for a few minutes before joining me in laughter. "Very funny," he said smiling as we calmed down.

  "I'm completely serious. Cerise kept challenging me, and I wanted to kick her ass. We played for like a whole month."

  "You're serious?" The disgusted look came back to his face, and I giggled again.

  "Yes, I'm totally serious."

  "No one else showed you? You had no help? Just some dumb game?"

  "It wasn't dumb
." I scowled at him, feeling insulted for the game that pulled me out of a very bad spot in my life. "It really helped me feel like I could defend myself after—"

  I walked back to the corner where the camera was and retrieved my sweater.

  "After Brent," he finished.

  I simply gave a quick nod. "And—well, Alvin has a punching bag in his garage. He corrected a couple things I was doing a little wrong." His telltale clenched jaw made me walk back into his arms and kiss his cheek.

  He wrapped his arms around me and let out a long sigh. "Well there's a lot more to know than how to throw a punch. You're a hell of a lot stronger than I thought, but you're still not strong enough to go up against a guy larger than you. Not with just your fists, at least. I want to show you a few things that can buy you some time. All I ever need is time, sweetie. Remember that. If you're in trouble, all I need you to do is buy me some time, and I'll get to you."

  "What do you mean?"

  He rubbed my back absentmindedly. "Anytime you leave, Rudy or Anthony will be with you. If for some stupid reason you wander somewhere they can't go, it'll be a matter of minutes before they come after you. So you just need to buy us some time to get there."

  I nodded, but the conversation was starting to make me uneasy. I pulled away from him and put on my sweater.

  "Sometimes the fans can get crazy, especially in L.A. and New York. If Rudy is the only one with me, they push him and try to get in the way. This one time—just after I won the Oscar—I was at the airport in New York, and the car hadn't arrived yet." He was lost in his memory, staring down at the palm of his hand absentmindedly.

  I could feel my heart start beating too fast. It felt too warm in the room. I walked to some chairs on the wall opposite Sean and sat down.

  "The photographers were all over me, getting in the way. They knocked down this young girl, and I reached down to help her up. They shoved their way in between me and Rudy, and he couldn't get to me."

  I was trying to take slow, deep breaths, but the panic was overwhelming me—fast. I tried to reason with myself that he was fine, and it was just a story, but I couldn't calm down.