by Adele Hart
Right now, I'm packing while my assistant, Pete, pouts about not coming with me. I usually bring him everywhere, but this time, I decided to go it alone. No bodyguards, no assistants, no agents or managers or public relations people.
“You're going to get bored, you know," Pete mutters. "Two weeks without human contact is too long.”
“It's just what I need,” I say, tossing my swim trunks in my suitcase like it's a basketball and I'm at the three point line. “I was thinking you should stay here while I'm gone.”
That shut him up. He's grinning now because instead of staying in his cramped apartment over by Hollywood Boulevard, he'll be here in Malibu staring out at the Pacific. “Okay, if you need someone to, I guess I could.”
“Thanks. That would be a big load off my mind,” I grin to myself as I grab three novels off my bedside table and lay them in my suitcase.
“You should probably read that script that Jacinta sent over while you're away. She's been on me like white on rice about it.” He disappears out of my room and returns a few minutes later, carrying a stack of scripts.
I shake my head. “No way! Not this time. Just the script I need for this movie. Nothing else.”
“Come on, just three, okay? There are a lot of people waiting for answers.”
I sigh. “Fine.”
Pete takes the top three scripts from his pile and pops them in my carry-on bag.
I stare at him for a minute. “You only needed me to take those ones, didn't you?”
“Yes.”
“Dammit. Every time.” I zip up my suitcase and set it on its wheels.
When I reach the door, I see that there's already another suitcase waiting for me. It's filled with portable workout gear—a jump rope, suspension trainers, and a hydro medicine ball that I fill when I get to my location.
Pete nods his head to the bag. “There are three scenes without your shirt on and one full backal.”
“Right. Thanks.”
So, maybe not a complete break, but a good enough one, right?
I'm just about to shut my eyes for a little in-flight nap when my phone rings. It's my mom, and I know she's gonna be madder than a hornet who's just had her nest knocked down. I might as well get this over with.
“Hey, Mama, how's my favorite lady?”
“Don't you 'favorite lady’ me, Heath Bradley Lawson.” Uh oh, she pulled out the middle name. I'm in deep shit now. “You promised you'd come home on your next break, and now I find out that you're heading to Montana instead.”
“It's not really a break. I have a stack of scripts up to my neck to get caught up on. I also have to memorize my lines for this next movie. I'm gonna hide out so I can work uninterrupted.”
“You know you can work here at the ranch without being interrupted. Plus, I'd cook for you, so you wouldn't have to worry about a thing.”
That's a big lie, but I can't call her on it. Not when she's already fired up. The truth is that every time I go home, she parades all the neighbors, relatives, and pretty much every person she's ever met through the ranch house to meet me. “I know, Mama. I promise I'll be home as soon as I can.”
“As soon as you can? You're about as slippery as a pocket full of pudding, Heath. I want a set-it-stone date when you're gonna show your sorry face around here.”
“I'll see what I can do. I'm supposed to be in Italy to start the next Axel Cutler movie in September. If this runs late, I'll have to go straight there.”
“A date, Heath!”
I look out the plane window just in time to see the Grand Canyon below. “All right, Mama, calm down now. Come hell or high water, I'll be there as soon as this wraps.”
“You better be, or I'll get on a plane and come fetch you myself,” she says, but I can tell by her tone she's calmed down some. “Now, I saw something on Facebook that you're getting back together with Eva. There better not be any truth to that.”
“There's not. She and I are long since done.”
“Just checking. You're not going to find the right girl in L.A., son. You need to come home, buy a nice ranch here, and find yourself a normal Texas girl to settle down with.”
“We've talked about this, Mama. I need to be in L.A. for my career. They don't make too many movies in Wemberley.”
“Well, you could commute!”
“Uh oh, I gotta go. The flight attendant just told me that we're starting our landing, so I need to get off the phone.”
“Isn't that convenient?”
Yes, yes it is. I nod at Tammy, the flight attendant and she stifles a laugh, then says, “Sir, I need you to turn off your phone now.”
“Hear that? Nothing I can do, Mom. Love you.”
“Call me when you get settled in.”
“Will do.” Maybe.
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About the Author
Adele Hart is a stay-at-home mom who secretly writes sexy stories whenever she gets a chance. After reading hundreds of romances, she decided to skip all the angst and ugliness, and just get to the good stuff. You know, the part that makes you say, 'Oh my!'
So if you're like Adele, and you want to indulge your guilty pleasures with naughty but nice, fast and fun stories about super hot, practically perfect men and the sweet women who love them, then you've come to the right place.
Adele's guarantee to you:
You'll have that loving feeling from start to happy finish. Nothing ugly, no BDSM, no cheating bastards, just fun, flirty, dirty goodness.
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