by Louise Bay
“If you’re on board, that’s my next call.”
I sucked in a breath. “Let me speak to Audrey first. She called me about the breakup, so I should be the one to make the first move.” Hopefully she’d see this could avoid a scandal for her as well. “But how will we play it with the studio? Won’t they be mad?” What I didn’t want to do was piss off the producers, who were all banking on the chemistry between Audrey and me to generate ticket sales. Hollywood was a small town. The whole point of dating Audrey in the first place was to show that I was responsible and reliable. I didn’t want this backfiring.
“I think we can spin this so people become interested in the breakup, wonder if you’ll get back together. Particularly if you’re close on the red carpet. People are going to speculate about what’s going on and who broke it off with whom,” Sinclair said.
I could imagine the studio being okay with that. The tabloids speculated all the time whether co-stars’ chemistry spilled off set and into real life. And a breakup would lead to a lot of questions and commentary. “You think you can convince them?” I asked.
It was difficult to know how Lana would react, but surely it was better for the guy you were sleeping with not to be in a relationship with someone else, even if it was fake. Lana and I had never had a conversation about what we were to each other, but I knew I wanted her in my life. The sex was fantastic between us, we made each other laugh and we’d spoken twice a day every day since I flew back to LA. For the first time in my life, I didn’t consider myself single, and I was a mile past okay with that.
“Come on, it’s me you’re dealing with. I can sell sand to Arabs,” Sinclair said.
“Let me talk to Audrey and I’ll let you know. I don’t want you leaking anything to the press in the meantime.” I also needed to speak to Lana. Audrey and I splitting up was a good opportunity to discuss what we were.
“So what does this mean for me going forward?” I asked.
“If you’re thinking you can go back to fucking everything with a pulse, then you’re sorely mistaken,” Brian chimed in. “If you want to—”
“I take my career more seriously than you do, Brian. You might have to convince some of your clients what’s good for them, but I’m not one of them. I’ve learned my lesson.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Sinclair said. “Because I’ve found the perfect girl for you.”
“You’re suggesting another contracted relationship?” Obviously, that had been the plan, but in the last few weeks, I’d been thinking that maybe Lana might be my real girlfriend.
“Kristin Cooper. She’s beautiful, just finished an arthouse picture that Sundance loved, and has signed on to the latest Joel Schumacher. She’s going to explode over the next twelve months. It will be great publicity for you.” I expected him to elaborate, but his silence suggested he thought that he’d presented a slam-dunk solution.
“But I’m seeing Lana. I don’t see why I can’t just be with her. It’s not like I’m going to be out partying.”
Brian groaned. “No civilians. You just said that you were prepared to do whatever it takes to get the franchise—this is what it takes. The publicity with Kristin will really help keep you hot.”
I moved to the edge of the bed and pushed my hands through my hair. “The whole point of being seen in a relationship was to prove that the press had it wrong and that I wasn’t a kid in a candy store—that I was reliable, stable. That I had some self-control. The publicity was an extra benefit, but not the purpose of this.”
“But a huge benefit nonetheless. And anyway, Kristin will help cement this new version of you,” Sinclair said.
Brian and Sinclair had always wanted what I wanted—a franchise, for me to be the most successful movie star in Hollywood. We might not always agree but they knew what they were talking about and I trusted them. But this time, for the first time, I wasn’t convinced we all wanted the same thing.
“Surely it doesn’t matter who I’m in a relationship with as long as it’s monogamous. Why can’t it be Lana?”
“Because Kristin is beautiful and—”
“So is Lana,” I replied, interrupting Sinclair. She had that old Hollywood glamor thing going on. Sexy and feminine … but could swear like a sailor.
“A relationship with Kristin keeps you front of mind. You’ll be the only thing this town is interested in. And she’s got as much to gain and lose as you have,” Brian said.
I slumped back onto the bed. I had no doubt in my mind that objectively he was right. But I wasn’t feeling it. “Is she single?”
“That’s my boy,” Sinclair said. “Yes, she’s single, and I know for a fact that she thinks you’re hot, so it could turn into a real thing, you never—”
“I’m with Lana,” I said through gritted teeth. “If Kristin was seeing someone, too, then it might be easier.” At least then Lana wouldn’t have to wonder whether any lines had been crossed. Things would be less messy. “It won’t work if she’s single.”
“We can make it work,” Brian said.
“If you keep seeing Lana in private, without publically dating someone, people are either going to think you’re gay or fucking everything that moves unless you’re a public couple,” Sinclair said.
“I don’t care if people think I’m gay.”
“You don’t need me to tell you that you’re not going to get a franchise if there are more than three rumors that you might be gay.” As usual, I hated what Sinclair was saying, but he wasn’t wrong. “The only alternative is to date Lana seriously and publicly. But I don’t like that option. It doesn’t give you the publicity push. And it could get very messy. We need someone who understands the game.”
Fuck.
I was pretty sure that Lana wasn’t suddenly going to be okay with going public. Hell, I wasn’t even sure if I was ready for that. Privately dating someone was something I’d only just got accustomed to—would it survive media scrutiny?
I sighed.
“I can set up a dinner for you and Kristin, see how it goes,” Sinclair said.
“No. Don’t do anything. Yet.”
“Listen, Matt, you don’t know how this Lana thing is going to go. I know you like her now, but she’s a long way away and she’s not used to the pressure of Hollywood.” Sinclair had a point. “You think she’s ready for all the attention and publicity? Give it twelve months with Kristin, then if you’re still crazy for Lana we can transition you into that relationship. By then the franchise is in the bag.”
“I don’t know.” Audrey and I had managed, but she’d been with the same guy since high school. More importantly, I hated the idea of pretending someone other than Lana was my girl.
“It’s the smart move, Matt. And like you say, you’re serious about your career,” Sinclair said.
“Don’t try to manipulate me, Sinclair. You know I hate that. I’ll make my decision and let you know.”
“Why don’t you just have a drink with Kristin? I think you’ll get along with her really well.”
“No. I’m not going to do that. Not yet.” If I gave Sinclair an inch, he’d take a mile. I just couldn’t see how dating one person but wanting to be with another was a good idea.
But I wasn’t sure I could convince Lana to date me publicly, anyway. I knew she didn’t crave fame or publicity, which was one of the things I liked about her. She understood the beauty of being in Maine and stepping out of city life. Her motives were clear to see—she wanted peace and happiness. How could I deny her such worthy aspirations? I didn’t want to be the one to take it all away.
Brian continued on about Kristin, but I was only half listening. “I said I’d call Audrey, but I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” The other end of the phone fell silent. “What I do want to speak to you about is The Brothers. Did you approach the author’s agent?”
Brian cleared his throat. It was how he built up to bad news. Shit. “I’m just not sure this is the way to go for you at the moment, Matt. You need to st
ay focused.”
Whose career was it, though? “Does that mean you haven’t approached the author’s agent? What about Fox? Did you talk to them about a production deal?”
“You don’t have any experience producing. And you came from modelling. It’s not an easy transition. You need to look focused. It’s not good to be overcommitted.”
“Every actor out there has a production deal.” I swept my hand through my hair.
“I know, and I understand that this might be frustrating to you.”
I hated when he adopted the tone of a parent of a two-year-old having a tantrum.
“But you need to take this business one step at a time. What you don’t want to happen is to get a production deal too early and then have it fail.”
I took a deep breath. He had a point. “Surely we can still option the book?”
“You think a decent agent would recommend an actor without a production deal taking an option on this? It’s not like you’re going to take it to a studio and say you’ll star if they make it. That I could get behind. But I read the fucking thing. There are no adult male leads in the book.”
Christ, Brian could be a douche. I was very close to telling him to fuck off. When someone told me I couldn’t do something, it lit a fire under me. If Brian wasn’t going to play ball then I’d have to change up my game. I hadn’t made it this far by playing things safe. “Okay. Well, keep your ear to the ground. If you hear of anyone else looking to option it, let me know.”
“Sure will,” Brian said. I genuinely believed he thought he was acting in my best interests, but it didn’t seem like we were aligned on what those were anymore. Yes, I wanted the franchise, but I could option the book and try for a production deal at the same time. I could do both, couldn’t I?
And as long as I wasn’t getting into trouble, I didn’t see why I needed any woman in my life other than Lana.
I’d never felt so out of sync with my team as I did right now.
Nineteen
Lana
I pulled my suitcase off the carousel, imagining the chaos on the other side of baggage claim if Matt had decided to turn up at the airport, despite the fact that we had agreed I’d take a car to his place. He’d be surrounded by screaming women, thrusting their phones and God knew what in his face. He’d never felt like a movie star to me. He was just Matt—the guy who sheltered in the bandstand in a thunderstorm, the man who could make me come again and again and again.
I set my suitcase on its wheels and headed for the exit. Nerves fluttered about in my stomach. What happened if things were different between us in LA? Our time together in Maine had been easy, but in Los Angeles, Matt was surrounded by the most beautiful women on the planet every day. Would he see me and wonder what he’d done by inviting me to come out?
After baggage claim I paused before I took the final few steps to the sliding doors out to the real world. Matt had said he was going to send his driver to collect me, so I’d look for someone holding a card with my name on it.
I took a breath and walked toward the exit. Jolting to the side, I grabbed for my suitcase handle, but went flying onto my ass.
What the hell?
No one stopped to help and as I glanced up a huge, burly security guy strode past. “Hey,” I called out as I struggled to get to my feet. The sliding doors opened and a hundred flashbulbs went off. What was happening? I brushed down my pants and strained to see what was going on. As I caught up with the security guy who’d knocked me over, a tiny woman in frighteningly high wedges slowed for the photographers. Great. I’d been pushed aside by some celebrity’s security. I couldn’t help thinking it was some kind of warning, that being with Matt would land me on my ass.
I spotted my name written on a white board and I headed toward it.
“Miss Kelly,” the man with the sign said. “Let me take your bag. I have the car right outside.”
My stomach began a full-on churn. There was no turning back now. “Thank you.”
The car was a Range Rover, less conspicuous than I’d expected and parked right by the entrance. The driver opened the door and I climbed inside.
I squealed when I realized I wasn’t alone.
“I thought I’d surprise you,” Matt said, grinning at me, and enveloped me in a hug.
“Oh, thank God.” I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his neck, grateful I wasn’t being kidnapped, and so happy to see him at the same time.
“Are you okay?” he asked, pulling me away from him and inspecting me as if I’d lost it.
“Fine. Just glad to see you.” I beamed at him.
“I couldn’t be happier to see you,” he said, holding my face and swiping his thumbs over my cheekbones. I melted into his touch. He had magic hands—all my concerns and nerves seem to fade away when we were together.
“How come you’re here? I thought I was going to meet you at home.”
His grin filled his face, and I couldn’t help enjoying the fact that I was part of the cause of his smile. “I couldn’t wait,” he said. He turned his head and reached for something on the armrest. A buzz sounded and a screen came up, separating us from the driver just as we began to set off. “I wanted to see you as soon as you touched down. If I hadn’t known you’d kick my ass, I would have been waiting for you inside.”
God, it felt good for someone—Matt—to want me so much. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so adored. “Well, I’m glad you waited. This way, I don’t have to claw a thousand women’s hands away to get to you.”
He chuckled. Then his eyelids dropped as he pressed his lips to mine.
Heat coursed through my body. I’d forgotten how when he touched me the whole world fell away, leaving only the two of us.
I pushed my hands through his hair and he moaned. Oh, how I’d missed that sound. I loved how I could make him do that.
“You smell of the ocean,” he said, breathing me in.
I turned, trying to get my body closer to his. He lifted me and placed me on his lap. As I put my hand out to steady myself, my palm grazed his erection and I gasped as my pussy pulsed. I’d missed his body, his kisses, his cock. How had I ever considered not taking this trip? No one had done the things to my body he had, as though he had some special, secret code that gave him access to a different level of my pleasure. I couldn’t give that up easily.
I pushed my hand down his thickness, but he grabbed my wrist to stop me.
“I won’t have you in the car like some disposable model, actress or whatever,” he said as he pulled back. He gripped my waist and placed me in the seat next to him, then sat back. “We gotta save it until we get back.”
“Okay,” I said, unsure of what had just happened. “You worried I was going too fast?”
His head snapped around. He reached out his hand and I took it. “I’m concerned I won’t be able to hold back if I kiss you. These two weeks have dragged like you wouldn’t believe, and I don’t want to cheapen what we have by fucking you in the car.”
I squeezed his hand.
“But don’t be lulled into a false sense of security. As soon as we close the door to my house I’m going to fuck you in every room, on every surface. I won’t stop until we’re raw and wrung out. You hear me?” He raised his eyebrows as if he really wanted me to answer him.
I smoothed my thumb across his wrist. “I like the sound of that.”
“Twenty minutes and then you’re mine,” he growled, my nipples pebbling at the promise.
The thought of being his was intoxicating. Every woman in the world wanted him and he’d picked me. A girl from Worthington, Maine, who yelled at him for being stupid the first time she’d ever met him. How had that happened?
I shook my head. I couldn’t overthink these things; I just had to enjoy it while it lasted. There was no way we had a future together. Our worlds were too different; we lived so far apart. We couldn’t last. But I was determined to savor being with him while I had him.
For now.
Matt
How I’d held myself back from yanking down those cute pants and slamming her onto my cock as soon as the car door shut, I had no idea. But somehow, I’d managed it.
Twenty minutes passed like fifteen hours—my dick threatening to explode with pent-up lust with each mile—but finally we pulled up at the gates of my Beverly Hills Spanish-style bungalow.
“Oh, this is pretty,” Lana said, dipping her head so she could see out the window. “And it’s so secluded.”
My place was on a gated street behind a high, stucco wall and a solid-wood gate. There was no way paparazzi could get a look inside. I wouldn’t risk her privacy or mine. “I like to keep the important things private,” I said.
“You have a gardener?” she asked, scanning my front yard. I barely noticed the flowers and shrubbery. I just wanted it to look nice. Beyond that I didn’t give a shit.
“What do you think?” I asked, pulling her closer.
“I think you have people.”
“You’re right. My fingers are best saved for important work—like getting you naked.”
She rolled her eyes and I fought the urge to spank her. Maybe I would when I got her inside.
The car pulled up and I climbed out. “Wait there,” I said. David got out and as he reached for Lana’s door, I asked, “Can you bring her bag in?” He nodded and left me to open her door.
She winced at the sun as I opened the door but still managed a cute half smile.
“Welcome to LA,” I said.
“Thank you for inviting me.”
David followed with Lana’s suitcase, but when we got to the front door, my urge to be alone with her overtook me. “I’ll take the bag inside if you just leave it there. You’ll be back at two?”
“Yes, sir,” he said, and he turned back to the car.
“He’s coming back tomorrow?”
“Or tonight, depending on how you look at it. I have a little trip planned. Just the two of us and not in public. But you might want to take a nap because it’s kind of a middle of the night excursion.”
She put her arms around my neck. “I don’t feel like napping.”