by Naomi West
“I’m not sure when I’m leaving,” she reminded him gently. “It doesn’t seem to be up to me.”
Bishop had the vest on now, and he shoved his feet into the shiny black shoes that went with the uniform. He didn’t say anything.
Her throat closed, and a burning sensation on the backs of her eyes told her that tears were imminent. It shouldn’t matter. It was just some random encounter with a local, the kind of thing celebrities did all the time. But somehow, it did matter. “I guess you got your payment, so you’ll be going now.”
The fire in his eyes when he turned to her scared her, but he crossed the room and took her into his arms. “Don’t you dare say it like that. I know we joked about it, but that wasn’t a payment as far as I was concerned. I wanted you since I first laid eyes on you, and that was before I had any clue who you were.”
It was nice to be wanted for just being herself and not for the name and career that went along with it, but Lola still didn’t understand. “Then why are you rushing away? Why do you seem so … so angry?” It was the best thing she could come up with. Why did emotions have to be so hard to explain when she had to use plain words instead of music?
His hands pressed hard against her backside, pulling her to him and making her realize that his arousal was still alive and well under those clothes. “I’m not angry,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m frustrated. I know I can’t stay here. I’ve already pushed it too far. You don’t need to have even more rumors flying about you, and I don’t need to get caught. But there’s so much more I want to do.”
Yet another thrill flew through her body. Her throat was still tight, but for a different reason. “Tell me.”
His chest heaved with a sigh, pushing pleasantly against her breasts. “You’re a little naughty, aren’t you?”
Lola bit her lip. “If I have reason to be. Tell me what you would do if you could stay here.”
Bishop’s fingers spread out on her ass cheeks, claiming them as his. He bent his head to tease her earlobe. “There’s so much. First, I’d take you back into that bathroom where I first found you. We’d fill up the tub and I’d put you right on top of me, watching you ride me as those gorgeous breasts of yours slapped the water.”
Her breath was frozen in her lungs, and she thought she might come again solely on his words. She could easily envision the picture he painted for her, the way his wet hands would feel on her skin, the hardness of him as she straddled his hips in the big tub and gave him the show he wanted. “And then?”
“Oh, you are a dirty girl,” he moaned as his lips traced the contours of her shoulders. He straightened his head and turned her around, bringing his hands up her hips and ribs to her breasts, massaging them gently through the luxurious fabric.
Lola leaned her head back against his chest and relaxed her arms, submitting to him. His fingers felt so damn good on her, nothing else mattered. “Please,” she begged, “tell me more.”
“Then I would bend you over this desk.” The strong grip around her neck surprised her, but in a pleasant way, as he gently pushed her forward. “Because I want to see just how glorious that ass of your is.” His hands ran up the skirt of her robe, pushing it out of the way.
“But we might get caught,” she whispered, her face only a few inches away from the curtains.
“And that’s exactly what I would like about it,” Bishop replied as his hands appreciated the roundness of her. “We would leave our clothes on, but I would still do everything I need to do to you. Because I want you, Lola. I need you, and I want to have you over and over again.” The sound of a zipper was followed by the hardness of his head against her once again, and she opened her hips to accommodate him. “I’ve never needed a woman this badly, Lola. There’s just something you do to me. And I don’t care that your bodyguard is just outside the door. I don’t care that the crowd is down there on the street. The only thing I care about is that you’re here, with that velvety pussy of yours around my dick.”
He was right, and Lola couldn’t deny it. They could do what they wanted, and who cared what anyone else thought? She spread her fingers against the smooth wood of the desk, feeling it press against her breasts. They had each gotten what they needed on the bed, and yet it wasn’t enough. They needed more.
Bishop was slapping against her now. He palmed the curve of her backside before bringing his hand around her hip and sliding his finger against her folds. Convulsions racked her pelvis as her core gripped him, pulling him further inside her. Lola bucked against him, surprised and thrilled at this second round of lovemaking. She gasped her pleasure as he teased her to her peak, insistent that she get what she needed from him. Lola slammed her hand down on the surface of the desk, stopping herself just short of making too much noise. But she couldn’t help it. Bishop felt so damn good, and he wanted her. She constricted inside as waves of pleasure rippled up and down her body. His member responded and they came once again, their secret tryst finally complete.
* * *
Lola pressed her forehead against the glass of the plane’s window, looking out over the growing scenery underneath her as the aircraft made its descent. The shooting and the massive crowds had drawn the attention of the state police, and they had managed to get her out of Rolling Hills the evening after Bishop had left her hotel room. She hadn’t heard any word from her bodyguards, and so she assumed that Bishop had made it safely out of the Magnolia Blossom Hotel without being caught.
They had shared something wonderful, and she understood when he left that they couldn’t possibly spend any more time together. They had been lucky enough not to get caught, and Chris was only going to believe she was talking to the hotel staff for so long. As it was, he had given her an odd glance when she had finally opened the door and let Bishop go, reminding him to see about the air conditioning.
Surprisingly enough, as the plane swooped down over Los Angeles, she wished she could have fallen asleep in his arms.
Chapter Ten
Lola
Lola had been so busy since she’d returned to Hollywood that she’d hardly had a chance to think about the shooting, even though it was the only thing the media cared about. She constantly got phone calls asking her for interviews, but she always forwarded the voicemails to Vic. None of these people should have her number anyway, and she wasn’t about to let them know they actually had it right.
“You’re going to have to pick someone,” her manager had warned her from behind the big oak desk in his office. He was a large man with slicked-back hair, the typical manager type. His snake oil salesman personality had really turned her off when she’d first met him, as had the pictures on his office walls of celebrities who had long since become has-beens. But he had promised her he would make her a star, and so far he had come through on that. He sat with his feet on his desk and his hands behind his head.
“I just don’t want to talk to anyone about it,” she insisted for the millionth time. “It was awful and scary, and if I was just a normal person then nobody would expect me to stand in the spotlight and share the whole thing. It’s not fair.”
Vic’s feet dropped to the floor and he wheeled forward, resting his elbows on the desk and leaning so that his face was close to hers. Lola could see every pore on his face and smell the old cigar smoke that hung around him like bad cologne. His glasses were the kind that turned dark when he was out in the sun, but they never turned completely clear again once he was in his office. It gave a dull yellow tinge to his eyes. “Look, I get it. I shouldn’t have to remind you that I’m not new to the business, and I’ve seen plenty of people go through plenty of stuff.” He gestured behind him to some actor that Lola didn’t recognize. “But if you don’t get out there while people actually care about the shooting, then eventually nobody will care at all. You’ll have lost the chance at not only an exclusive interview, but other big things like a book deal or a movie. Right now, everyone else in the media wants to cash in on this, and you’re the only one who can mak
e it happen.”
Lola frowned at him. She didn’t like to admit that he had been right about everything in the past, but he had. He had been right about the sexy outfits and the borderline lyrics. He had been right about touring in Europe, and he had been right about that music video that seemed too cheesy to be real. But she didn’t want him to be right this time. “Maybe, every now and then, it’s okay not to make money on something like this.”
“Lola.” Victor whipped off his glasses and began wiping them on his shirttail, still looking at her. “Have I ever steered you wrong?”
She sighed. “No.”
“Good. Then you know you should trust me on this. You can’t be a celebrity and expect to stay out of the spotlight. It’s not realistic. So you have to take the moments as they come and make the most of them, whether that means a vacation where the paparazzi happen not to find you or a media circus that could earn you millions. Take it, and run with it.”
“Okay.” He didn’t look like a trustworthy guy, and Lola hadn’t always liked the advice he gave, but she couldn’t deny that he was right. He stood to make his own share of money from this, but she was the one who thought she wanted to be in the limelight. “Okay.”
“So, who are you going to go with?” Vic pulled out a notebook on which he had written down a list of reporters over a page long and pushed it across the desk toward her. “You’ve got plenty to choose from.”
She glanced at the names, feeling so overwhelmed that she didn’t even recognize most of them. “Tonya Donovan,” she finally said, pointing at the name. The woman had always seemed nice, and Lola didn’t think she could put up with one of those shark reporters who would be perfectly happy ripping the story out of her.
“I’ll get it all set up.”
* * *
Just a few days later, she was sitting in the makeup chair at the television studio. The long counter was backed with numerous lighted mirrors, and a few other people were prepping for camera time as well. Interns and reporters whisked about, schlepping coffee and yelling at each other. It was just as chaotic as it was backstage right before a concert, so Lola was used to it. But even though she had no problem standing up in front of an audience of thousands and singing her heart out, she wasn’t sure she could do the same thing when she knew she had to talk.
“You need to hold still,” Brittany said gently, “or I’m never going to get your eyeliner straight.” The makeup artist had her bleached-blonde hair pulled up into a high ponytail to keep it out of her way while she worked, and she flicked it back as she turned and reached into her case for a cotton swab.
“I’m sorry. I’m just so nervous.” Lola had managed to get down a little bit of yogurt for lunch, but that had been it. Her stomach didn’t seem like it would tolerate much more, and it was still threatening to revolt.
“You don’t have any reason to be.” Brittany slowly chewed her gum as she slicked liquid eyeliner onto Lola’s face. “You’re going to look great.”
“I’m not worried about that.”
With the eyeliner in one hand and the other hand on her hip, Brittany gave Lola a look. “Then what, exactly, are you worried about? You’re no stranger to the camera or to big audiences. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you nervous, just excited.” She set down the eyeliner and grabbed a poufy powder brush.
“It’s completely different. I have to sit there and actually talk about my life and about what happened.” The brush felt nice on her face, but she couldn’t take much comfort in it.
Brittany swapped out the brush for a tube of lip gloss in Lola’s signature shade. She dabbed it gently on her lips. “Just think of it as another performance. You might consider yourself a singer, but in some ways you’re an actress, too. I’m sure you don’t always feel like strutting your stuff, but you always act like you’re confident and happy up there. Just do your thing, and you’ll be fine.”
Lola gave her a wan smile. “I hope you’re right.”
“What the hell do I have to do to get a cup of coffee around here?” bellowed a voice from the other side of the room, scaring them both. Tonya Donovan came storming through the prep area, her fists curled at her sides. Her dark eyes were wicked as she stormed through, practically sending out lightning bolts. A few crewmen skittered out of her way. She stopped and glared at the two women. “Have you seen one of those useless interns? I asked for a coffee ten minutes ago, and I have yet to see one in my hand.”
Gesturing off to the left, Lola said, “I think I saw one go that way.”
Tonya’s face suddenly softened. She looked slightly more like the TV personality Lola was used to seeing. “You must be Lola Lennox. It’s so nice to meet you. I hope everyone on the set is making you as comfortable as possible.”
“It’s all been very nice, thank you.” And it really had been. Lola had discovered a large fruit basket in her dressing room, and a shy intern had mumbled that she would get her anything she needed. The studio had offered the use of their own makeup artists, but of course, Lola had brought Brittany.
“Good. I’d hate to think it could be otherwise, but I don’t always get the most competent help around here. Do you have any questions for me before we go on the air?” She gave Lola her award-winning smile.
Is it too late to back out? But that wasn’t a question that someone like Tonya would probably take with good humor. “No, I don’t think so.”
Without asking, Tonya plucked a shade of lipstick out of Brittany’s makeup case and leaned over to a mirror, tracing her lips. “Just remember to look at me and not at the camera. We want to make this look very informal and comfortable, not like a regular newscast. We’ll be live, but you don’t have to worry about much when it comes to timing. The network is more than happy to delay a few commercials if they know they’re getting good ratings from a big interview. They never say it out loud, but trust me, they’ll cater to us.” She winked, dropped the lipstick randomly back into the makeup case, and stalked off.
Brittany glared after her and rearranged her case. “Lovely woman.”
“And my career is in her hands,” Lola sighed. With her makeup done, she got up and headed down a hallway to her dressing room to wait. She hated that this whole thing was making her face what had happened. Even more, she hated that it made her think about Bishop. That afternoon in the hotel had been amazing, and she almost wondered if she had dreamed it. But she hadn’t, and the reality of it was that she would never see the Cobra King again. He had been far gentler than she would have thought a man like him would be. A small part of her wished she could go back to a town like Rolling Hills, but without all the attention, and just be a real person for a little while. She wouldn’t want to deal with her parents or the media, but she wouldn’t mind dealing with Bishop.
Checking over her outfit and hoping she had chosen the right one, Lola knew she had to get this interview done right. She had to give Tonya just enough details that the audience would be satisfied, and then maybe she wouldn’t get stuck doing any more of these.
But she had to be careful to hold back other information. Nobody needed to know why she had been in Rolling Hills in the first place or just who she had spent time with. It was a shame that the stupid gunman, whoever he had been, had taken something that was supposed to be a private trip and turned it into such a big deal. Eventually, she knew, someone who had seen her with Bishop would ask about him. There would be someone who had been at The Dive who had seen them together, and they would bring it up. People would start digging into it, and Rolling Hills would be put on the map once again. Lola wasn’t looking forward to it.
The knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts.
“Come in.”
A young man with a headset and a worried look on his face poked his head in. “Ms. Lennox? You’re on in five. If you’ll come with me, I’ll get your mic put on and put you in position.”
She followed him dutifully, taking deep breaths and hoping she could just get through this.
&nbs
p; Chapter Eleven
Bishop
Things had returned to normal almost as soon as Lola left town, but the intervening weeks still left Bishop wondering when he would finally feel normal again. The singer had left her mark on this town, whether he liked it or not. People talked about her in the streets. Girls dyed their hair blonde and did their best to tweeze their eyebrows into the distinctive angle of Lola’s. They sang her songs in the street. Bishop had even heard that the mayor extended an official invitation for Lola to come back to Rolling Hills and get the chance to enjoy it this time, with a full police escort, of course.
But he highly doubted she would ever take him up on that, and he couldn’t blame her. The police had made no headway on who the nameless gunman was. Plenty of people had seen him, but reports had come in that the man had worn a mask and plain clothing. Even his gun hadn’t been anything special. If anyone knew or suspected who he was, they weren’t saying.