Personal Assistant

by Cara North

  She put her arm down and looked at him again. He was less interested in what was outside than what was sitting in front of him. “So, how many pro football players have you taught?”

  “What?”

  “You were a teacher for a while. You obviously make an impression, I was just wondering how many young men might be vying for a spot on your schedule. I didn’t ask that question in the interview. Are you seeing anyone? Do I need to be considerate of your time in the evenings?” He battled his desire to snarl as he asked the questions. He could not think of her with anyone else. The thought of her lips locked with someone else’s had his blood boiling.

  Frankie seemed confused by his barrage of questions. The waiter arrived and filled the glasses with more water. She hadn’t responded.

  The waiter asked, “Would you and the lady like something else to drink, Mr. Gunner?”

  “No, thank you,” Jonas said as politely as he could manage in the moment. He didn’t need the servers talking about him being moody. “Maybe wine at dinner.”

  He looked away from Frankie long enough to smile at the man before he walked away.

  His eyes snapped back to Francesca and waited for his answers.

  “Well,” she said. Her shoulders pulled back a little, her spine straightened just a fraction more. Subtle moves he knew meant he was in for a lecture of some sort. “I would hope you would like to be considerate of my time because you are a considerate man, not because you have to. Second, what woman in her right mind would take this job if she had a man in her life? I mean seriously, do you think that relationship would last long with his every moment wondering how he compared to you?”

  Since he had never had an assistant before, he never really thought about any of those things. She made a lot of sense, but it didn’t sooth his jealous ego.

  “As for how many young men might have become professional athletes, lawyers, or whatever else they had their sights set on, I have no idea. They outnumber me thousands to one by now. I sometimes remember faces, but not many names. That is why he was laughing. He recognized me immediately. I thought he was lost or something. I mean why would anyone cross a room like this, in a place like this, with people like her here, just to talk to me?”

  He didn’t bother to look at whoever she was talking about or pointing to. “Do you think your pretty, Frankie?”

  “What kind of question is that?”

  “A real one. I’m curious. I want to know.” He sat back and let her think about her answer as he downed another glass of water. The waiter had graciously left a pitcher on the table, but he was tempted to take her glass again, simply because it was hers and he liked drinking from it.

  “Yes,” she said. “Mostly. I mean, I know I’m not the worst looking woman around, but I’m not exactly strolling down a catwalk on my days off. I like me, if that is what you’re asking. I don’t rely on my looks like a lot of women I know, but I’m not oblivious to my body or how men can see me if they choose to.”

  He wasn’t expecting that answer. He wasn’t sure what he expected her to say, but it sure wasn’t that. He shrugged. “I guess as long as you know you’re beautiful, that’s what counts. I suppose you can afford to remain oblivious as to why a young man would cross a room to speak to you. You’ve probably had to ignore or overlook advances from your supervisors or your students.”

  “Not everyone puts it in a contract.” Frankie snatched her glass up before he could reach it. She took a drink and then sat it back on the table, just out of his reach.

  He was feeling better. His body cooled from the water, the air conditioning, her denial of any other interested parties.

  He wanted to talk to her longer, steal more moments between them in private, but the other people seated at their table arrived. His director, her husband, and their daughter arrived first. They were followed by the co-star of that movie, her husband, and finally, a producer and his date. Everyone knew one another and was polite to Frankie without being nosy. The night droned on, he presented the award, hurried back to the table, worried about her when she left to use the ladies room, and was relieved when she returned. He had never experienced anything like it before.

  “The award for best actor in a comedy goes to…”

  He really was just happy to be nominated. He liked drama, action, even horror. The comedy was fun to do, but not a real challenge since he already had a good sense of humor and had completed a few of those films before.

  “Jonas Gunner.”

  He was genuinely surprised. He stood up. His director hugged him. Everyone else at the table congratulated him. He looked at Frankie. She was clapping and smiling, obviously excited, probably as excited as he should have been.

  All he wanted to do was grab her, hug her, kiss her, and share that joy. Instead, he let his hand slide to the small of her back as he passed. The smooth fabric tickled his palm. He couldn’t think of anyone to thank, he almost thanked her though she had nothing to do with the movie. Then again, she had likely seen it so she was among the many that had everything to do with the success of the movie.

  “I’d like to say thank you to the fans.”

  The crowd roared and he made a quick exit. There were people waiting to interview him the moment he stepped off stage. The metal trophy was heavy, well made. His name would now be preceded by award winning actor. It was an accomplishment for sure. His family was already blowing up his phone. He could feel it vibrate in the pocket close to his chest. He was an actor and he acted like he gave a shit. Any other day he might have. Today, he only thought of how the hours ticking by were leading to Frankie going home and him going to bed alone.

  His jaws hurt from the smiling. His eyes were dry from the constant flashes of light and the lamps illuminating the platform more than necessary.

  He was glad to return to his seat. He sat the award on the table in front of her. He grabbed a glass of water and downed it as he sat. She handed him her glass and filled the empty one without saying a word. The awards went on for what seemed like forever. He didn’t touch the wine. He didn’t dare impair his senses. Frankie didn’t either. Unlike the tales of personal assistants who were known to get as drunk as everyone else at a party, he knew he would never have to worry about those issues.

  The show was ending and they still had at least one after party to attend. He was over it. He could feel his energy draining at the prospect of being stuffed in another room full of people and unable to talk to her.

  He let her carry the award for him since he had to shake hands and still try to escort her through the crowd. One meeting he wasn’t expecting was when they came face to face with his alleged ex.

  “Congratulations, Jonas,” Ivy said. Her date was not in sight.

  “Whatever. You could have warned me, Ivy.” He slid his hand to Frankie’s back and pushed enough that she started moving.

  They were barely past earshot when Frankie surprised him.

  “That bitch.” She walked faster now. “She said she was sick. Then she shows up with someone else. Then still has the nerve to talk to you. If I wasn’t wearing this dress I would kick her ass.”

  His entire body thrummed with a renewed excitement. He didn’t care if her offense was at the fact that Ivy had stood him up resulting in her working a longer day, the fact that Ivy had lied to her, lied to him, or that she had shown up with someone else. Whatever her reasons, he just cared that she cared. Passionately.

  He sat next to her in the limo and could not contain his joy. He smiled a real smile and watched her fume with interest. “Why are you so angry?”

  “Why aren’t you angry?” She pointed his award at him and he held up his hands as though she pointed a gun at him. She looked at her hand and then laughed. “I’m sorry.” She placed the award in her lap and looked at him with those big brown eyes and said, “I don’t like her. I never did. I always thought you deserved better than that bitch. I don’t care that she is sometimes considered America’s sweetheart. She always came off as
spoiled to me. This just proves it.”

  “I’m spoiled.” He frowned. He was and he knew it. Worse, he hoped others didn’t react to the “breakup” the way Frankie was. Ivy didn’t deserve the backlash. He wasn’t happy she chose to go this route, but she wasn’t out to ruin him.

  “That’s different.” Frankie sounded sincere. “You can’t help who your parents are or how you were brought up. You don’t treat people unkindly, you have never uttered a bad word about any woman you have been attached to in the press, and you always talk highly of the people you work with. Those are rare qualities anywhere, but especially in Hollywood.”

  “Were you spoiled?” He didn’t want to talk about Ivy anymore. He wanted to know more about Frankie.

  “I wasn’t neglected. My parents worked hard, we lived in a decent neighborhood, but it can be rough going to school with a bunch of really rich kids. I met Shay and she made my life, at least back then, easier. I did have to tell her that I was coming to this event tonight. I want you to know I did not tell her I was coming here with you, but I just knew you were going to win and if she caught sight of me on television and she didn’t know I was here, there would be hell to pay come morning.”

  “So did she see you?” he asked. He liked learning this stuff about her.

  “Yes, she did. My phone was vibrating immediately. She saw me when you passed behind me. I guess everyone did. I have e-mails from people I haven’t heard from in years.”

  “What did you say to them?” He closed his eyes for a moment and simply absorbed the sound of her voice.

  “I haven’t responded to anyone but my parents and Shay. They all knew I had applied for this job. My parents were less than thrilled as you can imagine, but Shay is about to burst through the phone and strangle me for not telling her who I was assisting sooner.”

  “Why?” he asked, but he already knew the answer.

  “Don’t start fishing for compliments. You know very well why. She’s a fan.” Frankie yawned. “Who isn’t?”

  “You’re tired, too?” he asked. He was alert again. “We could skip the party if you’d like.”

  “No, sir. No way.” She shook her head. “If you don’t want to go I can send a text to your publicist and tell her you sprained an ankle or something. I don’t have a say in the matter. I work for you. You make the orders, I follow them.”

  He looked at her. He bit his lower lip to keep from saying something he shouldn’t say just yet. He decided to mess with her. He let out a sound of pain and grabbed his shoulder. The action so sudden it startled her.

  “Are you all right?” Frankie was off her side of the limo and next to him in a flash. He was definitely all right. Her hand moved over him checking for injury, seeking to feel what he felt.

  The window between the driver and the back slid down. “Home, Jonas?”

  He laughed out loud and sat up as she looked at him. “Please, Rob. Thanks.”

  Rob had been his driver since he was a kid. He knew that yelp as it had gotten him out of school more than once in his life. Not to mention away from a crazy chick or two in his younger days.

  “You’re not hurt at all.” Frankie dropped the statue in his lap.

  It landed right on his crotch and the pain seared through him causing him to instantly buckle over. “I am now.”

  “Sure you are.” She folded her arms.

  “You just cracked me in the nuts, Frankie. Trust me. It hurt.” He sniffed, fought back a tear. It had been a long damn time since he’d felt that pain. The last time was on a set and the action sequence was off causing a foot that should have missed him to land right on.

  “Oh.” She slid her hand across his back. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I just…you scared me with that yelp and I thought this was an act too.”

  “Good to know I’m proficient.” He winced.

  “What can I do?” Frankie kept touching him. The pain subsided. He took several deep breaths and closed his eyes.

  “I’m okay.” He sat up, sniffed, and shook his head. Took a bold chance and said, “I can’t very well ask you to kiss it and make it better now can I?”

  He saw her breath hitch, paid more attention to the slim line of her throat and the pulse beating there. He wished there was more light in the limo so he could see her eyes better. She didn’t say no. He did notice that. Two things he knew for sure had to happen tonight. She had to come inside to return the dress and the jewels. He had to help her undo the back of that dress. She did not say no. She didn’t say yes, but she sure didn’t say no.

  ***

  Frankie stood on unsteady legs inside the house. She went straight for the living room and her clothes. Jonas came in behind her. She was still dealing with the logical side of her brain reminding her that he was just flirting. The hormonal side of her body didn’t care. He stepped into her personal space and she could feel the heat radiating from his body.

  “You need my help.” He touched the top button on the back of the dress.

  She did need his help. There were so many buttons on the dress, some real, some faux, all of them intricately placed for the exquisite purpose of being beautiful. He undid the top button, the next, the next, and so on until the entire back of the dress was finally undone. Her breath was ragged. His breaths slid along her bare neck with controlled precision.

  If it were a movie, this is the part where she would turn around and fall into his arms for a tongue tangling kiss that made her bones melt and her, well her knees were already pretty weak. It wasn’t the movies. She didn’t turn around. Her libido and her logic were in a tug of war over this.

  His breath slid along the shell of her ear as his hands slid along the bare flesh of her back. Her eyes closed, her clit throbbed, her heart pounded in her ears.

  He whispered, “Say yes.”

  Was there anything else to say? Her head was muddled. Her lust was all that mattered. She might regret it in the morning. Who cared? If she had him for one night she could hold on to the memory forever. Breathless, she could barely hear the word as she said, “Yes.”

  She half expected him to turn her around, strip off the dress, and get down to business. He didn’t. His hands slid along her ribcage, slowly, tracing the ridge until his fingers met in the front. His hands slid up to cup her breasts at the same time his lips opened and closed over the shell of her ear. She was dizzy.

  “Your heart is beating so fast,” he whispered. His lips moved to kiss the space below where her earlobe and neck met. His thumb stretched to rub across already erect nipples. She whimpered. The double assault of his gentle kisses and the hands caressing her breasts had her panting, growing desperate in her need.

  Boldly, he slid one of his hands down towards her navel. His fingers touched the band of her panties and she gasped audibly. Her legs were actually trembling. It was too much, he was too much. His fingers slid along the outside of the thin cotton and cupped her mons.

  “Damn, you’re so responsive.” He kissed her right at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

  The moment his fingers curved to pull at the elastic of her panties the cell phone in her purse began ringing. Not just any tune, the ringtone associated with his publicist. The sound began to sober her.

  “I need to get that,” she whispered. Her eyes flew open. Awareness began to sink in. The ringtone sounded a second time. “It’s your publicist.”

  His hands had stilled, but not because he was stopping. They stilled to hold her in place against the slightest efforts to move toward the purse.

  “I have to get it.” Frankie found her voice. “It’s my job.”

  “Your job is to take care of me, not my publicist.”

  “Telling your publicist why you are not doing your job is part of my job. Let go.” He held firm.

  The phone rang again. The fact that she called three times irked Frankie.

  “If you take that call you can tell her she is fired.” He punctuated the statement with a squeeze of both hands in their respectiv
e locations. Her body wanted to listen to him. Her mind was not having it.

  “It’s not just your reputation. My name is listed as your first line for contacts. I am the contact.” Frankie took a step forward and he let her pull away from him. She missed his touch instantly. “It’s in my contract to answer that damn phone and if I do nothing else, I assure you, I will do that.”

  She picked up the delicately embroidered bag she had tossed on the chair. She wanted to go back in time to change the moment she took it off vibrate and put it on ringer. Grabbing the phone she tried not to sound out of breath, but failed. “Hi. Sorry. I meant to call you.”

  The woman on the other end was unhappy and understandably so.

  Frankie listened and replied, “Yes, I know I sound out of breath. He stepped off a step to let someone by and rolled his ankle. I had to get him in bed, elevate his foot, and put some ice on it.”

  His publicist was a little more civil now that she had an excuse for why he wasn’t at the after party.

  Frankie needed to defend him further as his publicist was still questioning the validity of the story. “Look, I don’t know what you think you know about him, but he moved to let an older couple through, took a wrong step, and now he’s laid up. He works hard. He’s been up all day. Your job is to fix this so it doesn’t look bad for him.”

  She couldn’t look at him. Frankie was lying on his behalf, but if she looked at him she wouldn’t be able to maintain her outrage at the inconsiderate woman on the other end of the phone reminding Frankie that it was her job to answer the phone.

  “I know what my job is. My job is to take care of him. That might mean you have to wait until I can make a call or answer a damn phone. I don’t know who you are used to dealing with, but I am not those people. He’s not your only client, he is mine. You make him a priority, what, a few days out of the month or as needed for events. He is now my priority every single day. Do not, I repeat, do not make me research other publicists to put on his desk because the press you, his publicist, allow to be printed is atrocious. If you don’t believe in your client, I will find someone who does and work day and night to convince him of it. Are we clear?”