by Shayla Black
“Shower and get dressed. If you don’t cover those gorgeous breasts, I can’t be responsible for my behavior.” He leaned in and kissed the swell of one, laved his tongue over the tip of the other, then pulled himself back with a reluctant sigh. “I’ll rustle you up some grub while I leave some messages for folks back home to call me after church. When you’re done, I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
Shealyn frowned as he rose. She reached out to stop him. “We’re all right, aren’t we?”
He sat again, his stare profound and solemn. “Sweetheart, I will always do everything in my power to make sure we’re all right. My heart belongs to one woman, and for me, there’s no going back. As long as you’re committed, nothing anyone else says or does can shake me from you. Unless you want me gone, I will be by your side forever.”
Everything inside her softened and melted. He always knew exactly what to say to allay her fears. She wasn’t sure how, but in a short time he’d managed to figure her out. Normally, she would find that somewhere between distressing and catastrophic. She didn’t like people too close. Usually it made her want to curl up in a corner and snarl at everyone who dared to come near. But she found Cutter’s closeness comforting. Endearing.
“I’m in the same place, but you’ll have to give me some time to believe that. I’m slow to trust.”
“I know. I don’t like it, but I get it. Your mother left you at an age when you needed her most, and the last man you placed your faith in fucked you over. I’m never going to do that, but trust isn’t an overnight proposition. I’m patient and I’ll be here.”
“Thank you.” She reached for him. “What did I do to deserve your goodness?”
He brushed the stray locks of her hair away from her face and kissed her forehead. “You’re pretty damn awesome yourself. Now get dressed. See you in the kitchen.”
Less than fifteen minutes later, she’d showered, washed her face, and downed her coffee. She tossed on the yoga pants and one of the T-shirts Cutter had bought last night. She’d foregone makeup, and her face felt clean and dewy and happy. Her ponytail wasn’t glamorous, but when she padded into the kitchen and he looked up like he was awestruck, she knew he wasn’t into Shealyn West, the star. He wanted Shealyn West, the woman.
“Eggs, bacon, and toast coming up,” he said, searching the cabinets for a plate. Once he’d located one, he set it on the counter between them and hustled her food onto the china. “All yours.”
“What about you?”
He handed her a fork. “I ate earlier.”
“I could have cooked for myself.”
“But you didn’t have to. So you eat. I’ll talk.”
As she took her first bite, the dread returned with another boom in her belly. “What’s going on?”
“Faith Holt was arrested yesterday for fraud.” He went on to explain that, while no one had been arrested for Foster’s murder yet, it seemed as if he and his sister had plotted to blackmail Shealyn together and they may have had a falling-out. He also told her the video of her and Foster in the dressing room was nowhere to be found. “But the police don’t have any suspects in Foster’s murder except Faith, so it’s probably only a matter of time until she’s charged.”
“But to kill your own brother . . .”
“It sounds insane, but it wouldn’t be the first time something like that has happened. If I’m skeptical about the scenario, it’s because I don’t know how Faith would lift her brother’s body from the crime scene, into a car, then dump it on the street without help. I haven’t seen a picture of her, but I know he wasn’t a tiny man.”
“No. About six-foot-three, two hundred thirty pounds . . . I have no idea how she would have lifted him.”
“It’s a loose end I don’t like. Something about this situation feels off to me.”
“You might be right. But I also know I once managed to move a refrigerator by myself with just the help of a dolly,” she pointed out, biting into her toast. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”
“It’s possible Faith got creative. I just want to be cautious until we know more.”
“Sure. But even if she had help, it seems obvious that she was capable of making her own plans . . . whatever those were.”
“Agreed.” He shrugged. “And you may be perfectly safe. I’d just like to lie low until tomorrow morning. We can reevaluate then, make decisions. But for now . . . maybe we can just enjoy each other this fine Sunday. We’ve certainly got an amazing place to do it.”
She glanced past him, out the French doors overlooking the majesty beyond. “We do.”
And they talked for hours. About her contract for Hot Southern Nights, about his with EM Security Management, about where they might settle and what they both wanted the future to look like. Eventually, he wanted marriage. Children, too, though not right away. She agreed. In fact, they agreed about virtually everything. Their relationship seemed so easy and perfect.
Shealyn couldn’t believe that she was making plans to spend her forever with a man she hadn’t even known a week ago. She was rarely impulsive. Yet here she was, ecstatic and beyond eager to get Cutter moved out to California. She felt guilty that he had to leave behind his life in Louisiana, and she knew he worried about his mother all alone in Sunset. But they both agreed this move made the most logical sense right now.
When she looked out the window again, the afternoon sun was setting. The golden glow over the shimmering water, surrounded by the pink and orange sky, took her breath away.
“I’ll start putting out feelers for a job in Los Angeles. I don’t have many contacts this far from home but—”
“You know, you could just devote your life to guarding my body.” She curled her arms around his neck and winked suggestively.
He’d come to sit on the barstool beside her, so he scooped her up in his arms and hauled her onto his lap. “I’d love that.” He nuzzled her, nipping at her lobe. “But a man has to have purpose, an occupation to call his own.”
Shealyn respected that he didn’t want to give up his job simply because she made enough money for them both. And he wasn’t threatened by her success, either. He had such a strong sense of self. It was one of the things she admired about him most. “You’re always thinking ahead. And your goals won’t change whether or not I continue to act, will they?”
“Nope.”
“You really don’t care if I walk away from fame, my job, and all the trappings to be with you?”
He shook his head. “I want you to do what makes you happy. I’m not in love with you because you’re a trophy or a status symbol. I’m in love with you.”
She sighed. How could one woman be so lucky? Or so happy? Euphoria buzzed in her head, and she pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “You really do always seem to say the perfect thing.”
“I just say what I feel, sweetheart.”
“How is it possible you don’t have women falling in love with you all the time? There must be others.”
“In my heart, just you,” he vowed.
“I don’t know why you chose me.”
“Well, you’re beautiful. That goes without saying. The rest of the world thinks so, too. But they don’t know you like I do. They don’t know how much you care about your friends and family. Even when you had someone blackmailing you, one of your biggest concerns was Tower’s feelings for Norah. You felt bad that you hadn’t made any girl time for Jessica when you knew she needed it. You work long hours. You put up with the public both adoring and hating you with such grace. Your trust is hard earned, but I respect that. You’re smart. You’re goddamn good in bed.” He winked, then his smile faded and his expression said she was his world. “And you looked at me without judgment. You didn’t see a hired gun or a drunk’s son. You never saw me as less important. You just saw me for me.”
“I saw the man I love. You’re noble and honorable.
I trust you, and you know that’s hard for me.” She smiled. “I’m so glad you’re all mine.”
“You’re all mine, too. If you keep making me this damn happy, I’ll want to make an honest woman out of you sooner rather than later.”
He said the words lightly, but she could feel the tension in his body and the intensity of his stare. Was Cutter worried she would refuse to marry him?
Shealyn cupped his cheek in her hand. “If you do, you’ll have to put up with me for the rest of your life.”
“Golly gosh darn. I don’t know if I can tolerate that much of you. I mean . . . what man wants these sensual, rosy lips against his? Or this beautiful face under his while he buries himself inside her heavenly pussy? Or this perfect handful of a lush ass? Or the kind heart inside? It sounds like a terrible hardship.”
“You poor thing. The suffering . . .”
He lifted and turned her until she straddled him, as if she weighed nothing. Then he pulled her body tight against his own. She wrapped her legs around his hips. Lordy, he was hard for her again. And she rocked against him because she didn’t think she could resist him for another minute.
“It’s agony,” he groaned into her mouth. “How will I ever survive?”
“One day at a time.” She kissed him softly, a brush, a tease. When he leaned in for more, she backed away.
“Hopefully for the rest of our days.” Then he kissed her again and laid her on the counter, stripped her bare, and reminded her exactly what dizzying ecstasy felt like.
When he finally pulled away with a kiss and a sigh, Shealyn wondered if she and Cutter might beat Maggie and Davis to the altar. She wouldn’t mind eloping. She didn’t need the hoopla of a big wedding and she certainly didn’t want the happiest day of her life to become a media circus. She just needed to pledge her life to this man and love him forever. That would be more than special enough for her.
* * *
—
By midnight, Shealyn was exhausted. She and Cutter had walked hand in hand on the foggy, windswept beach and talked about life, their hopes and dreams for the future. He wanted four kids. She’d been thinking more like two, but they agreed to see how they felt after the second and reevaluate. Everything about their communication seemed easy-breezy. They clicked.
She had called Sienna earlier to see how the Twitterverse was reacting to her “date” with Tower—mixed bag, which she’d expected—and to start her prepping for a permanent breakup. She’d noticed Cutter checking his phone a lot and frowning, which worried her. He’d stepped out to take a call from his mother while she’d talked to her PR rep. When he’d come back indoors, he’d kissed her concerns away and told her nothing was wrong. He had one more person to talk to, he said. Then the future was theirs.
Later, they cooked dinner together. She was famished after being too wrapped up in passion to eat lunch. Just before their evening meal, she found an amazing bottle of wine someone had stashed in the pantry, and they shared a romantic dinner on the covered patio overlooking the water, watching the moon glow over the ocean.
By silent but mutual agreement, they’d left the dishes in the sink and made their way back to bed. She had never ranked sex as terribly important in a relationship, but Cutter had shown her the error of that thinking. As he heaped hour after hour of pleasure on her, she didn’t just tingle or feel good from her head to her toes; she felt closer to him. The orgasms he gave her, they shared together. The touches, glances, and moans she gave him . . . he drank those in and used them to fuel his own rise to climax. She swore she knew at any given moment the cadence of his breathing, the thought topmost in his mind, the need he felt deep down in his heart.
After another scream-worthy climax, Shealyn fell back against the limp sheets of their bed with a sigh and closed her eyes.
Cutter kissed her gently and rolled to his feet. “Making you feel good is sweaty work. I’m going to grab a quick shower, sweetheart. You okay?”
She sent him a loopy little smile. Life really couldn’t get any better. “Great.”
“After that, I really need to tell you something important. I’ve tried to make calls back home and get the situation handled first. But this friend of mine . . . she’s not answering and I really need to talk to her.”
“Her?” Shealyn froze.
“She’s like my sister. I’ve known her since the day she was born. I think Mama would have adopted her if her father would have allowed it. You have nothing to worry about. I love you.” He took her hands. “But she’s in a mess, and I made her a promise. I owe her some conversation before I say much else. I’ll try her again before we go to bed. Back in a few.”
He dropped a kiss on her lips, then padded into the bathroom, and the pelting stream of water soon lulled her toward sleep. Shealyn was too exhausted to dwell on what Cutter might have promised this friend, but it didn’t sound serious. Besides, she trusted him. So instead of worrying or being suspicious, she basked in her good, happy tired.
Vaguely, she wondered if she’d been looking at people and relationships wrong for years. She’d always assumed the worst until people had proven they could be better. How many opportunities had she lost because she’d pushed away folks who seemed too good to be true? Cutter had shown her that she could love and trust. Even in the midst of his own turmoil, he was worried about a friend’s problems. He’d opened her eyes and shown her that her existence would be so much richer if she let people in and opened herself in return.
The man hadn’t just captured her heart; he’d changed her life.
A faint buzzing interrupted her musings. Her phone. Again. Vaguely, she’d been hearing it off and on for the last hour. And she’d been ignoring it, tuning out the world to focus on Cutter. But there it was again.
She groaned and followed the sound downstairs. There, on the living room coffee table, she found her cell vibrating its way across the gleaming surface. Christ on a crutch, why hadn’t she just turned off the device again after her quick call to Maggie following dinner?
When she picked it up, the screen told her Sienna was calling. She wanted to talk twice on the same Sunday? And she had thirty-four missed calls. Thirty-four? What the devil . . .
Dread slithered into her chest. If she’d missed that many calls and her publicist was reaching out this late at night, something was definitely happening—and it wasn’t good.
“Hello?” she murmured.
“Where the hell have you been the last few hours?”
“Um . . . long story. What’s going on? You sound panicked.”
“Aren’t you?”
“About what?”
“You don’t . . . Haven’t you been online in the last few hours?”
“No. I’ve been . . . busy.”
“Get unbusy. There’s a shitstorm out there with your name all over it. You can thank Tower.”
“What the devil did he do now?” Shealyn should have guessed he’d be pissy after their dinner. His ego didn’t handle rejection well. He was especially sensitive to a woman he was interested in choosing another man.
“He spilled the news all about your bodyguard/boyfriend. The press has Cutter’s name. His life story is now all over the Internet.”
Oh, god. She’d feared this day would come. Shealyn wished like hell she could protect him. She hated that the paparazzi was trampling his privacy, dissecting his life, and dragging him through the mud. He’d signed up to be with her, but had he really expected to have his every decision and action gossiped about? To have his whole existence questioned by people who didn’t know him and had no idea who he was or what he valued?
“Damn it all.” She sighed. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll tell him to brace. He’ll need to call his mother and his brother and—”
“What about his pregnant fiancée?”
Shealyn froze. She couldn’t possibly have heard that right. “His
what?”
“Pregnant fiancée. You didn’t know? Oh, shit. Her name is Brea Bell. Daughter of the local preacher in his hometown. The word is out now that she’s pregnant and they’re planning a wedding.”
Shealyn couldn’t breathe. Sienna’s words replayed themselves over and over in her head but they still didn’t make sense. Why would Cutter tell her he loved her and talk about marriage if he was already engaged to someone else? If the woman he was marrying was already expecting his baby? It didn’t compute. Was there some misunderstanding or an easy explanation for all this? He didn’t seem like the sort who sought the thrill of cheating. Or sleeping with a celebrity.
But maybe he was. Maybe she’d been blinded by a southern drawl, a pair of hunky shoulders, and his amazing prowess in bed. Maybe he was planning a blackmail score far bigger than anything Foster could have conceived, one that would set him and his fiancée up for years?
Tears stung her eyes. At least when Foster had been finished with her, he hadn’t pretended love. She’d felt used. She’d known immediately that she’d made a mistake and couldn’t wait to get away from him. All she wanted to do now was rush to Cutter’s side and beg him to explain his engagement and coming child away because this betrayal hurt too damn much to bear. She’d trusted him, damn it. She still wanted to.
Somehow that made her feel even more stupid.
He’d said what she wanted to hear, and she’d swallowed every lie whole, never questioning that he may have ulterior motives. No, he hadn’t sought her out; she’d been the one to hire him. But maybe he had taken the job because he’d seen her as an opportunity. It wouldn’t be the first time, after all.
“I have to go,” she told her publicist.
“We need to talk about how we’re going to handle this. People are out there waiting for your response—”
“I don’t care right now. For the moment, no comment. I’ll call you later.” Shealyn hung up.
The problem would still be waiting for her in a few hours. But at the moment, she had to decide what to do about Cutter. She had to get some answers.