The Curvy Voice Coach and the Billionaire Actor (He Wanted Me Pregnant!)

by Victoria Wessex

  The water in the tub started to slosh around.

  He’d kiss me as he entered me, the thickness of him stretching me…just...enough. Sliding up inside me, making me gasp with his size. He’d gaze down into my eyes as he powered into me, fast and hard and I’d clutch at his shoulders, the hard muscles there bunching and flexing as he thrust and thrust—

  What am I—Wait, God, wait, I’m not really going to—not about Tanner C—Oh God yes I am!

  I had my eyes closed tight. I tipped my head back, back arching, feeling the sudden shock of cold as my breasts left the water, and then I was clenching my thighs together hard around my hand, trapping my slickened fingers as I groaned long and low.

  Afterwards, I climbed out and stared at myself in the mirror, shocked. I’d never fantasized about Tanner—or even someone like him—before. Was it because of the email? Had it made him real, somehow, instead of just a guy on a cinema screen?

  I looked at myself. Long, thick auburn hair that I could never do anything with. Boobs that boys had been staring at ever since they first appeared—too big, too heavy. Hips and ass that stuck out far too much. There was just too much of me and it was all wrapped in skin so pale that I fried as soon as the sun hit me.

  Actually, my pale skin was sort of a blessing. It was a good excuse to cover up, even in the height of summer.

  With my body, a fantasy was all Tanner would ever be. He wouldn’t want someone like me. He’d want someone special.

  I dried off and padded through to the living room, still naked. Better get some clothes on and grab some food, I thought. It’s nine O’ clock….

  At that instant, my laptop made the “incoming call” noise. I turned towards it, just in time for the automatic answer to kick in.

  The screen lit up with the faces of two men. One I recognized instantly as Tanner Cole. The other was a balding guy in his forties whose eyes seemed too small.

  They were both staring right at me. Particularly Tanner. He was staring at—

  My mind went into freefall.

  HE

  WAS

  STARING

  AT

  MY

  NAKED

  BODY

  “WAAAAAAAGH!” I screamed and flailed around. Ending the call would mean moving closer to the laptop and giving them an even better view. I could hide behind something, but then what? Stay there all night? And with every second I stood there flailing, breasts bouncing and ass swaying, Tanner’s eyes just ate up more and more of me.

  My hands found a cushion from the couch and I hurled it at the laptop. It crashed to the floor, the screen slamming shut.

  I stood there in the suddenly-silent living room, my heart thumping. Had that really happened? Had a billionaire Hollywood actor just copped an eyeful of me, stark naked?

  My legs felt as if they were going to collapse. I grabbed hold of the back of the couch and then staggered out of the room and grabbed my clothes. I expected to feel better, once I was back in the blouse and pants, but I didn’t. My heart had slowed down, but sick fear was making my stomach churn and waves of hot humiliation kept drifting up my body to blaze across my face. How could I have been so stupid? What sort of idiot flashes her body to—my mind shredded—to a Hollywood star!

  Well, at least I’d never have to speak to him again. No way he or his agent would want me now, not after they’d both seen a good portion of my body.

  I picked up the laptop. It didn’t seem to be broken, but the power light was flashing on and off angrily. I opened the lid to see if it was really okay, and the screen sprang back into life. Skype was still open, and I quickly turned off the auto-answer.

  At that moment, an incoming call came in. From the same user as before.

  They were calling me back.

  I stood there with the laptop in my hands, biting my lip. Why would they call back? To laugh?

  I stared at the screen, tears filling my eyes, and watched the flashing alert as it rang and rang and rang….

  ...and stopped.

  There. If there’d been some last hope that I’d get the job, I’d missed it. Probably for the best.

  Just as I put the laptop down on the table, a text message popped up.

  Can we talk?

  I blinked back tears. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t speak to him, not after he’d seen me.

  Please?

  I sniffed, my chest tight. And then, without quite knowing why, I hit the call button.

  Tanner answered immediately. Just him—I couldn’t see his agent anywhere. And this time I wasn’t in as much of a panic. This time, I could actually look at him.

  He was behind a big oak desk and there were books behind him—a study, maybe. He looked wrong in that room, somehow, like a bear that had wandered into a library. He hulked over the computer at his end, looking down into the camera’s lens, his shoulders almost filling the width of the screen.

  He was in a black t-shirt that showed off the chiseled slabs of his pecs and clung tight around his thick biceps. He was smiling—sort of. That perfect, full lower lip seemed to be twisting into a grin and the dimples in his stubble-dusted cheeks seemed to confirm it, but...it was hesitant. Almost nervous. Why on earth would he be nervous?

  His hand was over his eyes. And then, as my gazed drifted up to his soft, black hair, I got my first live taste of his voice. It was a rumble, almost a vibration through my body rather than something I heard. Slow and thick like treacle, taking his time with each syllable, the drawl stringing together the words into an incantation that penetrated deep into my brain, rippled down my spine and ended in a hot, glowing throb between my legs.

  I suddenly understood how he’d bedded so many starlets. The movie version of him wasn’t a patch on real life.

  I stared at him, his hand still over his eyes, and my brain finally stopped reveling in the feel of his voice and deciphered what he’d said. He’d said, “Are you decent, now?”

  I could have taken it the wrong way. I could have assumed he was horrified and disgusted at seeing me naked, and wanted to make sure that it was safe to look. But something about the way he said it told me that wasn’t the case. He said it as if he was a gentleman. As if he wanted to spare my modesty. That couldn’t be right, for a bad boy.

  “Yes,” I whispered. “You can look.” I sat down in the chair.

  Tanner slowly removed his hand. And now he definitely did smile, a big, wide smile that made my heart lift—for a second.

  “You always answer your calls naked?” he asked.

  I felt my cheeks flush beet-red. “No. I’m not used to video calls—”

  “Oh! But you do walk around your apartment naked?” Weirdly, he said it as if he liked the idea

  “No! I was in the bath and I—”

  Suddenly, the full force of it hit me. I was jilling off to you about five minutes ago. Every drop of blood in my body rushed to my face. “I was...washing,” I croaked. Then, defensively, “You called an hour late!”

  Tanner frowned. “Didn’t we say noon? It’s noon.”

  All the frustration I’d felt before when he didn’t call came bubbling back again. Anger was good. It helped to push back a little of my humiliation and stopped me wanting to just grab a cushion to hide behind. “You’re eight hours behind us. I checked.”

  Tanner smirked. “We’re eight hours behind GMT. But you’re one hour ahead of that. You’re still on daylight saving time and we’re not.”

  My jaw dropped. “They—They have different dates for putting the clocks forward?! That’s just confusing!” My cheeks flared even more. So they hadn’t been being rude at all. They’d called exactly when they said they would, only to find me naked. “It’s ridiculous,” I blustered. “How can anyone be expected to—”

  “Relax, Charlotte. We’re here now. No big deal.”

  No big deal?! You just saw me naked! Every inch of me! I could feel the panic rising inside me. A big part of me wanted to tell him to forget the whole thing. But I still needed the mo
ney. I took a deep breath. “Alright, Mr. Cole,” I said stiffly. “Let’s discuss the matter in hand.”

  He burst out laughing. “Mr. Cole? That’s kinda formal. Especially after I’ve already….” He trailed off and I saw his eyes flick down my thankfully now-covered body. “Call me Tanner,” he said at last.

  I could feel my cheeks burning hot. “Mr. Cole is fine. Will your agent be joining us?”

  “Nah. I sent Maury away.” He smiled and something like a hot wave crashed through me. ”It’s me who needs to talk to you anyway.”

  For some reason, I was grateful for that. Which was weird because it was Tanner who was the billionaire, Tanner who should have been the intimidating one—and he was, in a way, with those muscles and those eyes and that smile that kept flustering me. But something about his agent made me uneasy. I was glad he wasn’t there.

  “Fine,” I said, and crossed my legs, trying to look business-like. Then I uncrossed them because I was wearing pants and it looked stupid. Then I changed my mind and re-crossed them, and now it looked like I was bursting for the toilet or something. Argh! “What is it you need?” I asked.

  “There’s this part I want to go for. Serious stuff. Weepy. Costume drama. But I gotta sound like...you know. Like you.” His mouth twisted into a smirk. “Proper.”

  “A gentleman?” I said disbelievingly. Tanner’s movies normally involved explosions or monsters. The close he’d gotten to something “serious” was playing a blue collar boxer from Detroit. Teaching him a British accent was one thing, but I’d assumed he’d be playing a London gangster or something. Making him sound posh as well as British…that was going to take some doing. “When do you need to, um, audition?”

  “A week’s time,” he told me, and his tone had changed. He’d dropped the jokey attitude. He seemed…focused. Which was weird because, with his fame, it was hard to think of him having to audition for anything. Yet he seemed to be chasing after this part. Why?

  I thought about it and nodded. “That might be possible,” I said without much confidence. “We’d have to work pretty hard, though. A lot of hours each day.”

  “I can work hard,” he said, staring straight into my eyes.

  I gulped. It was a perfectly innocent statement, but an explosion of raw heat went off right in my core. I had a sudden vision of him tangled in sheets on a bed, thrusting into some starlet and—

  Just for an instant, the starlet had my face.

  I tore my gaze from his and stared at the corner of the room, willing my face to cool down. “Okay. When are you flying to England?”

  “Oh, I’m not coming to England. You’re coming here.”

  My eyes snapped back to the screen. “What?”

  “The audition’s here in LA. They’ll shoot the movie in Britain, but it’s a Hollywood studio. I’ll fly you over.”

  I blinked a few times. “What? I can’t just fly off to LA!”

  He frowned. “Why?” As if he jumped on flights ever day. He probably does.

  He had a point. I didn’t have anyone depending on me in London. I could reschedule the few jobs I had lined up that week. I didn’t have a pet to feed. So why not go?

  Oh yeah. The part about being completely, utterly out of my depth. I coached businessmen and TV actors, not billionaire movie stars! And me, in LA? Land of the thin and beautiful? I hadn’t been out of London in months. I’d barely been out of my apartment in weeks—my clients always came to me.

  “I’ll pay for everything,” Tanner said. “A place to stay, food, flights. How much do you charge for training?”

  This was all getting very real, very fast. “A thousand pounds,” I said automatically.

  He nodded. “A thousand pounds a day is fine. I’ll get you booked on a flight tomorrow—that okay?”

  A thousand pounds a day?! I’d meant for the whole week! “Great,” I said weakly.

  “Okay. Well, I look forward to seeing you in person, Charlotte.”

  Hearing him say my name made a very pleasant squirm travel the whole length of my body, and I was glad my feet weren’t in shot so he couldn’t see them twist together. “Um. Thank you. I mean, you too. Mr. Cole.”

  He smiled again and ended the call. I sat there in shock staring at the screen. What had I just done?

  Chapter 2

  “It’s a mistake,” I told the check-in attendant politely. “Please could you check it again?”

  The attendant looked like a model. It was that sort of airline. “No mistake. First class to Los Angeles.”

  I looked at my worn carry-on suitcase with the wonky wheel. This was going to be...interesting.

  ***

  First class isn’t like the rest of air travel, and first class to LA isn’t like the rest of first class.

  In business class, the seats have been bought by the company. The people sitting in them might be successful, but they’re not necessarily rich. In the in-between classes, people pay extra for a bigger seat or better TV, or get upgraded because it’s their honeymoon. There’s a yawning gulf between that and first class.

  In first class, people who could have bought a seat for $500 have spent $5000 dollars to get to the same place at the same time because they can afford it. To someone like me, someone who doesn’t often buy anything that isn’t buy one, get one free, that’s pretty intimidating.

  The cabin was quiet. There were no screaming kids, no drunken bachelor parties, but it was more than that. There was a sort of reverent hush, as if I’d reached some serene oasis.

  The cabin was so big and airy that I didn’t have a seatmate, as such. The nearest person was just about within touching distance if I leaned out of my seat and stretched. She was a curvaceous woman in her twenties with honey-blonde hair and a softly swollen tummy. As the plane sped along the runway, she gently caressed her bump. “Home soon, sweetie,” she said in a Californian drawl.

  Pregnant. That was one word I could never imagine connecting with myself; married being another. Come to think of it, I was starting to worry that even I’m in a relationship sounded unbelievable. What else? I have a date tonight. I’d like to see you again. Would you like to come in for coffee? Do you have a condom?

  Normal life was going on for the rest of the world and I was outside it, trapped in my little apartment. I’d been dimly aware of it, but it’s easy to slip into a sort of comfortable acceptance when every day is the same as the last. Time doesn’t really seem to be moving, so it’s okay. Unlike models who lost their looks, my voice could keep earning me money my whole life—it hadn’t felt as if there was any hurry.

  Being on the plane was like being dropped into ice water. Why didn’t I get out more? Go on holiday? Do something?! I was only twenty-five, but my life was slipping away. What happened when I hit thirty, still single and lonely? Everyone else on board was in a couple—I could see a big shiny diamond on the finger of the blonde sitting next to me and she had a family on the way.

  “Um…is it your first?” I suddenly blurted.

  She turned and smiled at me, showing Hollywood-perfect teeth. She had the sort of warm beauty that made me wonder if she was on TV. “My second,” she said, rubbing her swollen stomach. “The first is waiting for me in the States, with his daddy.” She smiled, staring off into space for a moment in a way that made me stupidly jealous. I couldn’t remember ever being so wistful about a man. “You’re English!” she said suddenly. “I love England. My husband’s Scottish.”

  We started talking. Her name was Rachel and she was on TV—well, she used to be. She did things on YouTube now. “If you don’t mind me asking…”—I bit my lip, staring at her stomach—“How did you know...I mean, how long were you with your husband before it was time to…”

  She threw back her head and laughed. “How long was I with him before I decided I wanted him to knock me up? Less than a day.”

  My eyes bulged. “You—Wait, you mean that was when you knew? You met him and you knew within a day that he’d make a good dad, and then, a few year
s later—”

  But the woman was shaking her head. “Nope,” she said. “One day, from knocking on his door in a rainstorm to me on my back by the fire with him breed—making love to me.”

  The plane suddenly dropped a thousand feet and I clung onto my armrests. Then I realized the plane was just fine. It was my stomach. “Deliberately?!” I squeaked. “I mean, you didn’t just...forget the condom?”

  “Oh, no. He made it very clear that he wanted me to have his child, right from the start.”

  “And you said yes?!” I blushed. “I’m sorry. That sounded really rude. I’m just not—I mean, wow.”

  “I said yes. Because….” She looked thoughtful. “Because he made me feel like no other man in the world had. Because he did things to me that no other man had.” She smiled, as if remembering. And then she shook her head and smirked. “Also, I think there might have been some other things going on. Pheromones, maybe. You know, animal instinct. But I don’t regret it for a second.”

  I nodded dumbly and sat back in my seat. I’d always seen babies as something that happened after marriage, and that happening after a big wedding and a long engagement, and that happening after being with someone for a long time. It was like the gates you had to go through on a ski slalom, and I was stressing that I hadn’t even gone through the first one yet. Rachel, though, had just gone ahead and rearranged them all, placed them all a foot apart and then damn well skied through all of them at once. And she seemed happy.

  What sort of woman would do that? Then I blushed because that sounded awful, even in the safety of my own head. I wasn’t judging Rachel—not at all. She certainly didn’t seem ditzy or flighty or...you know. Slutty. She seemed incredibly sharp and switched-on. But how could a smart, successful woman like her just decide to give herself to a man and let him impregnate her? It was so far outside anything I’d ever consider that I couldn’t get a handle on it.

  Was it possible that this guy she’d met in Scotland, the guy who’d eventually become her husband really was that amazing? That the attraction was so overwhelming that she just knew they’d be together forever, and so getting pregnant didn’t seem crazy? I couldn’t imagine Tim or any of the other guys I’d dated ever making me feel like that. Did that mean there was something wrong with me?