American Diva

by Julia London

  “In the sports club,” Audrey said, nodding.

  Jack grinned and playfully tweaked her arm. “Woman, have you heard a word I said?

  “Of course!”

  “Then what is our motto?”

  “Aha!” she said. “You didn’t say. I am sure I would have remembered it.”

  He leaned forward, his face just inches from hers, and said low, “TA is a members-only club. Our motto is Name your fantasy, and we’ll make it happen.”

  She laughed at him, but a fantasy popped into her head, one delicious fantasy inspired by Jack Price, and she smiled.

  He raised a brow at her smile.

  Emboldened by the wine, Audrey asked, “Any real women in your life? Mother? Sister? Girlfriend? Wife?”

  “Definitely have a mother and two older sisters. But at the moment . . . no girlfriend and no wife.”

  She couldn’t help grinning with delight at that news. “I’m disappointed, Security Guy. A guy who makes fantasies happen and there is no one in your life?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  “Has there ever been?”

  “Depends on what you mean by ‘ever.’ I fell in love with Janet Ritchie when I was seventeen—you know, that kind of all-consuming love you think you could die for. But I can’t say I have had that since she dumped me.” He chuckled. “I’ve had a couple of serious relationships, and girlfriends . . .” He looked at Audrey. “But not a love I’d die for.”

  She swallowed hard. “What about Courtney?”

  “What about her?”

  “She’s obviously interested. And she’s cute.”

  “Oh my God, are you serious?” he asked, falling to his back with feigned shock.

  “Don’t you think she’s cute?”

  Jack snorted and came back up on his elbow. “Guy rule number one: In the company of a beautiful woman, never say aloud if you find another woman as beautiful, or, God forbid, more beautiful than your current companion . . . as if that is even possible.”

  A smile spread across her face. “You think I’m beautiful?”

  “Darlin’, I think all women are beautiful. But you? Dangerously so.”

  Her belly flipped in a most delicious way. “For what it’s worth,” she said, leaning toward him, “I think you’re pretty cute yourself.”

  His smile faded. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pulled her hard to him, heedless of the picnic between them. He rolled over, bringing her on top of him. “I warned you about provoking me, sweet cheeks.”

  “I didn’t kiss you,” she responded pertly.

  “Then I’ll have to kiss you,” he muttered, and pressed his mouth against her cheek, then her eyes, and slid to her lips.

  Audrey tasted the wine he’d drunk and the chicken he’d eaten and teasingly bit his lip. She relished the feel of his arms around her, his hands caressing her back. But then he rolled again, so that Audrey was on her back and he on his side, his hand on her belly, moving to her breast as his mouth covered hers. His tongue swept inside hers, feeling her teeth and the flesh of her mouth. His hand drifted up, to the column of her neck, then down again, to her breast, cupping it, feeling the weight of it.

  She moaned softly as he squeezed her nipple between his fingers, and pressed against him, feeling his erection hard against her hip bone.

  “Do you have any idea what I want to do to you right now?” he growled, and kissed her again.

  She knew what she wanted him to do to her, and lifted her hand to his neck, entwining her fingers in his hair, then letting her hand drift down his body, to the taut muscles of his arm, the hard wall of his chest. The more her hand moved, the wilder Jack’s kiss became. She could feel herself becoming wet, could feel her defenses and common sense eroding.

  His hand moved from her breast, gliding down her belly, to the top of her skirt, and then to her bare knee. He caressed her knee before slipping his hand beneath the hem of her skirt, between her legs.

  He stroked her inner thigh, making her skin tingle where he touched her and her body fire deep in her groin. “You make me crazy, Audrey,” he said. “I don’t know what it is about you, but you make me crazy.”

  She smiled with great satisfaction and lifted her hand to touch his face. He lowered his head to her again, kissing her gently now, letting his hand slip higher under her skirt. It occurred somewhere on the fringe of her brain that they were in a park, in a public place. Anyone could walk up on them now, and while she supposed a part of her thrilled to the idea of being caught, a larger part of her knew it could be disastrous. But she could not bring herself to stop him any more than she could stop herself. As his fingers brushed against her crotch, she moaned, urging him on.

  He began to stroke her over the fabric of her panties as he kissed her, making her wetter. She could feel his cock thickening against her. She was not conscious of anything but him and his touch, both alarmed and titillated by the response he evoked within her. When his fingers slipped inside her panties, into the slick folds of her skin, she gasped into his mouth.

  It had been a lifetime since she had wanted a man’s touch as badly as she wanted his. She wanted it with a ferocity that was unknown to her—her blood pounded in her veins, her heart beat like a drum against her chest. He stroked her, his finger swirling around her, then sliding down and sliding deep inside her. Then another finger. Then three.

  Audrey was lost. She rode his hand as he began the seductive rhythm of lovemaking. It was not supposed to be like this, she was not supposed to want the seduction, but she pressed against his hand nonetheless, as a furious, anxious heat began to build in her.

  When his thumb touched the core of her while his fingers performed their dance, she gasped again, turning her head away, lifting against him.

  “Easy,” he whispered as he continued to stroke her, inside and out. Audrey felt herself falling away all too quickly, shuddering against his hand as a massive wave of release moved through her. The life bled out of her; she could feel her body melting onto the blanket and closed her eyes.

  Jack slowed his hand until she lay motionless, completely spent. Only then did he remove his hand and straighten her skirt.

  Slowly, Audrey opened her eyes. He was gazing at her, an unfathomable look in his blue eyes. He kissed her tenderly, stroking her cheek with the back of his knuckles, smoothing her hair with his hand.

  “What are we doing?” Audrey whispered.

  He shook his head and kissed her once more. “I haven’t the slightest idea.”

  They lay on that blanket, not talking, just being, until Bruno began to paw at Audrey’s hair, reminding them that it was time to go.

  There were photographers waiting when they arrived back at the Ritz.

  “Great,” Jack muttered. Audrey was startled by the number of them—she had forgotten about their constant presence in the few hours she had spent with Jack, and she didn’t like the jarring return to reality.

  She and Jack said good night, careful not to touch one another, the only hint of their feelings in their eyes. When Audrey entered her suite, Lucas was waiting for her. “What happened?” he asked instantly. “I thought you were at the Brasa. I came looking for you, but you weren’t there.”

  “Oh,” she said, fumbling with Bruno to avoid his direct gaze. “We ended up at some diner. The Brasa was so crowded and it looked like there would be a wait.”

  “A diner?” Lucas said disbelievingly, peering at her. “What diner?”

  Audrey blinked. Then laughed. “Hell if I know. Do they have names? It was just some diner. Hey, look what I got!” she exclaimed, pulling out her boots.

  She showed him everything, chattering about the sale she’d found and how good Bruno had been. When she was certain he wasn’t going to ask more, she excused herself to clean up and get ready for bed. In the privacy of the bathroom, as she changed clothes, the bottle of sleeping pills rolled out of her bag.

  Audrey picked up the bottle and looked at the little blue pills. Jack was right
about that, she thought, smiling softly to herself. She didn’t need pills. She needed a man to make love to her.

  She poured the contents of the bottle into the toilet and flushed it.

  Rich happened to arrive at the Ritz at the same time as Audrey LaRue, having just flown in from L.A. From down the drive where his cab had let him out—“Looks like some celebrity,” the cabbie said—Rich saw Audrey run inside, the security guy on her heels, carrying her bags. “Whore,” he whispered as he watched her from the sidewalk with a handful of other curious onlookers.

  In his room, Rich took out his folder of press clippings he kept about Audrey, and shook his head as he leafed through them. “Such a damn whore,” he said again, and got up, scratching his bare ass as he walked to his computer to pull up the letter on which he’d been working.

  THE OFFICIAL FANBLOG OF AUDREY LARUE

  Got txt that AL was at Brasa Grill, and me and KK91 went 2 see her and get her hancock, but she didn’t show! bummer! that’s cool we went to BK and met some guys and KK91 wants to hook up with this one guy and she wouldn’t meet him if we hadn’t gone to Brasa to see AL, so thanks AL!! you rock!! 120 comments

  hot pics! Audrey’s Curvy New Look!

  (Us Weekly) It’s all curves for Audrey LaRue! On tour with her new album, Frantic , sources report that Audrey makes at least eight costume changes and struts some of the best curves on the music circuit today. “She’s not afraid to show them,” says designer Kate Raymond, who created Audrey’s costumes for the tour. “She’s healthy and it shows.” Audrey is partial to Prada, according to a source close to her.

  Thirteen

  Rich delivered the paper to Audrey across the hall later that morning. “Thought you’d like to see this,” he said cheerfully, and dropped it on the table next to a room-service tray that held two covered dishes and a coffeepot.

  “Thanks, Rich,” she said with a smile she could not seem to wipe from her face. “When did you get in?”

  He blinked, then sighed irritably. “Ah . . . last night? Didn’t you get my message?”

  “What message?”

  Now Rich’s brows dipped into a definite frown. “The message that I was coming in last night,” he said, a little too angrily to suit Audrey. “I called three times,” he said, lifting three fingers. “The first time from my office yesterday morning. I got Courtney and left a message,” he said, bending one finger over. “The second time on my way to the airport. Funny, I got Courtney again and left another message. And then the third time I called,” he said, folding over fingers two and three, “was from the airport when my flight was delayed. That time, I got voice mail. Didn’t you get any of those messages?”

  “Ah, well . . . I was kind of busy, Rich,” Audrey said. What was with this guy? She rarely spoke to him on the phone—she had people for that sort of thing.

  “Busy,” he spat, his frown etching deeper into his face as Lucas emerged from the bathroom, dressed in a robe. “I’ll just bet you were.”

  “Hey!” Lucas exclaimed. “Careful! Audrey doesn’t owe you an explanation!”

  Rich checked himself. “I didn’t say she did,” he said haughtily. “It’s just very frustrating to ask that a message be relayed and find out that no one has bothered to relay it.”

  “Okay, well . . . was there something you needed to talk to me about?” Audrey asked.

  “I assumed you would want to know how the expenses for this tour were going—and here’s a preview: you’re spending too much money.”

  “Okay, that’s the last thing I want to hear about this morning,” Audrey said with a sigh of resignation. “So tell Lucas,” she said, turning back to her breakfast.

  “Uh-uh, don’t tell me. At least not right now,” Lucas said, waving a hand at Rich.

  “Well,” Rich said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’m not exactly certain what my utility is here if no one wants to talk about the money aspects of this tour.”

  “Dude,” Lucas said with a bit of a laugh, “calm down. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  Rich looked from Lucas to Audrey and the frown returned. “Fine,” he snapped. “Later. In the meantime, do you think you could instruct Courtney to relay a message now and again?”

  “Yes,” Lucas said, and looked meaningfully at the door.

  Rich glared at Audrey and stalked out of the room.

  “Jesus,” Audrey said. “What’s his problem?”

  “Who knows,” Lucas said with a shrug as he helped himself to a triangle of toast.

  “Remind me why we hired him again?”

  Lucas shoved the triangle into his mouth. “Highly recommended,” he said, and picked up the paper. “Did we get any press?” he asked, looking at the page Rich had left on top. “Excellent,” he said, nodding.

  Audrey got up and looked over his shoulder—there she was, climbing out of a cab.

  “Good,” he said. “The more press the better.”

  “Why?” she asked, feeling vaguely angry. She didn’t like every aspect of her life being on constant display and could not understand why Lucas thought it was so great that it was.

  “Why?” he echoed, as if it was a ridiculous question. “Because we need it. And because we told them where you would be. Of course you were supposed to be at the Brasa and weren’t,” he said with a pointed look. “Fortunately, they followed the trail here.”

  Audrey’s breath caught in her throat. “You told them where I’d be? Told who?”

  “It was a local Internet thing. You know—they keep track of what’s going on around town. So we logged on and reported that Audrey LaRue was at Brasa Grill.”

  “Why did you do that?” she cried. “Why would you intentionally send photographers after me? You know I hate that!”

  “Don’t be naïve, baby.”

  “I’m not naïve, Lucas,” she exclaimed angrily, slapping her palm on the table. “It’s not like I don’t have to live my life under a microscope as it is! Why would you do that to me?”

  “Baby,” he said soothingly as he tried to gather her in his arms. “Come on, you know the score.”

  “There is no score, you asshole,” she said, wrenching free of him.

  “A little preconcert press never hurt anyone. In fact, it helps.”

  “It doesn’t help me have any semblance of a life. Did you think about that?”

  “Hey,” he said, holding up his hands. “I do what I do for us. One day you will look back on this and appreciate how hard I have worked for us.”

  Audrey rolled her eyes.

  “Ooh-kay,” he said, frowning. “Looks like we’re going to have another day of violent mood swings, so if you don’t mind, I am going somewhere else.”

  “You make it sound as if I am being childish for insisting on my privacy,” she said, seething with anger.

  “Why do you have to get so bent out of shape?” he shot back. “Why do you need so much privacy all of a sudden?”

  Audrey immediately clammed up, but she was furious with herself now for saying anything. Furious with herself for having these warm feelings for Jack; strong, undeniably warm feelings. She shouldn’t be feeling anything for him at all. She had a boyfriend. Granted, something had shifted between her and Lucas a long time ago, but nevertheless, she’d been with him for eight years and she was still with him. To have allowed herself to develop such intense feelings for another man made her question her character.

  It was wrong.

  She was no better than her father, whom she despised for having screwed around on Mom for as many years as he did.

  But God help her, she couldn’t seem to stop feeling this way.

  “I’ve got to get ready for work,” she said to Lucas, and walked into the bathroom. She turned on the shower, then sat on the toilet, her head between her hands. Okay, this could never work—no matter how much she liked Jack’s attention, it just couldn’t work. It was better to nip it in the bud than to let it go any further—it had already slid into treacherous territor
y.

  That was easier said than done, of course—she’d thought of little else but Jack in the last couple of days. So to take her mind off him, when Audrey got out of the shower, she called Trystan and told him she wanted to review some dance steps.

  “Again?” he asked reluctantly.

  “Again. Come over.”

  When Trystan arrived, she tried to clear her mind by striking up a conversation. How was the tour, what did the dancers think of it? What did they think of the dance routines? How did they like the accommodations?

  She was trying so hard to clear her mind that she scarcely noticed the number of people who came in and out of her room—Courtney, Rich again, dropping off reports for Lucas, a hotel maid, a bellhop bringing flowers, and a maid who removed the breakfast trays. She had walked by the paper Rich had brought in twice before she saw the envelope beneath it with the distinctive lettering: Audrey LaRue.

  She recognized the font and caught her breath; she instantly began to shake as fear bled into her veins.

  Trystan looked up when Audrey gasped and walked over to stand beside her. “What is it?” he asked, looking around the table like he was looking for a spider. Several moments passed before he noticed the letter.

  “Oh,” he said, grimacing. “Is it one of those letters?”

  Audrey nodded and put her hand on his arm. “Pick it up.”

  “What? No!” Trystan protested.

  “Pick it up,” she said again, pushing him.

  With a groan, Trystan shoved his dreadlocks over his shoulder and very daintily picked up the letter between two fingers.