Mixtape: A Love Song Anthology

by Nikki Sloane, Elle Kennedy, KL Kreig, Leslie McAdam, Lynda Aicher, Mara White, Marni Mann, Rebecca Shea, Saffron Kent, Sierra Simone, Veronica Larsen, Xio Axelrod

  Now the billboard was her.

  Anna Douglas, photographed from her bare shoulders up, a blindfold clutched in her hand as she seductively bit down on the knuckle of her index finger. When the sign first went up, it took a moment to adjust to her blonde hair. She was really a brunette, but the lighter color looked natural on her. It looked good.

  But I never got used to the billboard. Lap after lap, she stared at me with eyes full of hunger and sex. I couldn’t stop staring at it.

  “It shouldn’t be there much longer,” I said, my voice tight. “The movie came out today.”

  “It’s porn.” Rob shook his head in disgust. “Worse. That spanking crap? No woman should want to be treated like that. Little girls see that billboard and think, what? That a whore is a role model?”

  I ripped at the neck closure on my suit, opening it, and unzipped the front. I’d do anything to keep my hands busy so I didn’t tense them into fists. Rob would notice. And then he’d ask, and I wouldn’t be able to keep my goddamn mouth shut. We were too close to race day for me to unload on the judgmental asshole.

  Anna played an escort in the movie, but it wasn’t porn—I knew because I went to a midnight showing last night.

  By myself.

  I’d put on a baseball cap and kept it slung low over my eyes, so no one would recognize me, and I probably looked like the biggest creep in the universe. I’d sat in the corner of the theater, wanting the movie to start before someone saw me, but also dreading the moment the lights went down. It was the point of no return—I wasn’t going to be able to unsee a completely naked Anna.

  I hadn’t lied to Rob—I hadn’t slept well last night. Hadn’t really slept at all.

  I wiped the line of sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand as I stalked to my RV, anxious for a shower. I climbed the steps inside, and as I stripped out of my suit, my phone in my bag chimed with a message.

  Anna: How did your run go?

  I sent back a GIF of a sloth trying to cross a road, its clawed arm reaching slowly across the asphalt.

  Anna: Oh no! Was it the front again?

  No, it’s because I’ve seen you naked, and it’s all I can think about.

  Last year, I’d struck up a conversation with her and . . . it never ended. We chatted every day. Some nights we’d talk for hours. If she was filming or I was at the track, it would be a quick back-and-forth exchange. But I hadn’t gone more than twenty-four hours without chatting with her in months.

  One year and more than a thousand messages, and Anna Douglas had become my best friend.

  Me: This time it was the opposite. I was fighting the wheel the whole time.

  Anna: I’m sorry. Was Rob any help or did he just bitch about the billboard again?

  I’d had too many beers two weeks ago and accidentally mentioned Rob’s annoyance with the wall-to-wall promo for The Blindfold Club. She acted like it was funny, but it was hard to tell through text, and I wondered if it bothered her. I wasn’t about to tell her what he’d said today.

  Me: He was the same. We’ll figure it out.

  Anna: Are you going to be ready to watch in a few hours?

  I grinned. When I found out she hadn’t seen Game of Thrones, I talked her into watching. It only taken three episodes of her shooting me random commentary before I’d begun re-watching the show with her. We’d finished the Red Wedding episode on Wednesday while she was flying overseas, and naturally she was dying to see what happened next.

  Me: I think so. What time is it where you are?

  Her movie came out today, but the Hollywood premiere had been last week. She was in the European phase of her press tour now, jetting all over the place, and I couldn’t keep track. Was she still in Paris?

  Anna: It’s 10pm. I’m in a cab on my way to a post-screening party. Side note: traffic in London is awful.

  Side note: I’ve seen you naked, and you’re even more gorgeous than I imagined.

  Me: Never been. How is it otherwise? Good sights?

  Anna: I only know what the hotels look like. :-( It’s been one press junket to the next. Not to sound ungrateful, but I’m ready for this to be over.

  Anna: I kind of want to go somewhere and just be a tourist, you know?

  My ass hit the couch. The beginnings of an idea assembled in my head. I wasn’t a patient guy. When I figured out what I wanted, I went after it, and the first step of my plan was being in the same room as her.

  Me: You need a vacation. Me too. Let’s do it.

  The bubble appeared like she was typing, but it vanished. My chest tightened as I waited. What if she thought I was joking?

  Anna: Go on vacation together?

  Me: I’ve got two more races and I’m done. When’s your tour over?

  This could work. Hadn’t she told me she wasn’t slated to start her next shoot for a few weeks?

  Anna: I think I’m back in LA by the end of the month.

  Me: Awesome. Where do you want to go?

  I set the phone down beside me and took off my shoes, dropping them to the floor with two soft thumps. Any second now, the phone would chime with a new message. She could pick any place; it didn’t matter to me. Wherever she wanted to go, I was on board—as long as she was there.

  I pulled my racing suit down around my waist and fought the chill of the air conditioning. My white undershirt was damp with sweat, and as the seconds of silence ticked by, I began to sweat all over again.

  Had I put her on the spot? Maybe I needed to give a suggestion. The best bet was someplace sexy. I’d take every advantage I could get. Ideally, someplace tropical and romantic. What was close to LA?

  Me: Hawaii?

  The flight time wasn’t too bad—easier than going to Europe. I was proud of myself for the quick thinking, and for a moment, my brain went fuzzy as I pictured us on the beach, her in a bikini.

  But there was no response. Not even an attempt to type from her. I glanced up at the icon on my screen. I had a full signal, and she’d read the message.

  Oh, shit.

  I was so stupid. Anna had told me about a co-star a few months back. They’d become friends while filming, but he’d mistaken her friendliness for more. She hadn’t said much about it, but I could read between the lines. The guy hadn’t handled her rejection well and had made things really awkward.

  I was fucking this up and making things weird between us. Suggesting a trip together was kind of strange, and it probably crossed a line. Nervous wasn’t a feeling I got too often, and it freaked me out. I grabbed my phone and typed as fast as my thumbs could keep up.

  Me: Or wherever. I think it would be fun to hang out as friends.

  I grimaced as I sent the message to cover my ass. I didn’t want to friend-zone myself, but better to be zoned than nothing at all.

  I sighed with relief as a bubble popped up on the screen, filled with blinking dots. The anticipation of her reply was worse than waiting for a photo finish result.

  Anna: Sorry, the driver wanted an autograph. This is crazy, but YES! And Hawaii! How do we make that happen?

  CHAPTER THREE

  Anna

  Planes rolled by in the distance, taxiing toward the runway. I stood in the center of the luxury private suite with my arms crossed over my chest and my nervous gaze out the oversized window. As each plane lofted into the air, I had a similar feeling in my stomach.

  Jamie should be here any minute.

  He’d sent a text a little while ago that he’d landed. By now he’d gotten off the plane, been picked up by the suite escort, and was being driven across LAX. I shifted my weight from foot to foot, wanting to get the nervous excitement out before he arrived.

  I knew him growing up. I’d watched his interviews and promo spots. We talked every day, meaning Jaime knew me better than my agent, my assistant Sato—really everyone. He was closer to me than any other friend.

  And yet we hadn’t seen each other in eleven years.

&nb
sp; In that time, he’d become a devastatingly handsome man. A very attractive, very single man. Jamie hadn’t always been. When we’d first started talking, he’d been with someone. He didn’t talk about her much, and I didn’t pry, but they’d called it quits not long after our daily conversations began. I suspected his long chats with me had something to do with it.

  I uncrossed my arms and ran my palms down my skirt, smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles. I hadn’t sat down since I’d entered the suite fifteen minutes ago. I hadn’t turned on the TV or touched the snack bar, because balancing on pins and needles was taking all of my energy.

  Friends.

  I mouthed the word silently, reminding myself. That was how Jamie had pitched this trip to me. Would I be able to keep my desire for him stowed away so I didn’t jeopardize our friendship? He’d never hinted he was interested me. Hadn’t flirted, or even mentioned if he’d seen The Blindfold Club. The movie had been out for a month.

  God, this week was going to be the hardest acting role I’d ever taken on. Pretending my feelings for him were platonic would demand an Oscar-caliber performance. I’d do my best.

  There was a sharp knock on the suite door. I took in a deep breath to prepare myself, but the words came out in a rush anyway. “Come in.”

  The door swung open, and I dry swallowed.

  His light brown hair was mostly hidden beneath a worn Carolina Panthers hat. The gorgeous blue eyes I knew he had were concealed behind a pair of aviator sunglasses. He had on a simple white t-shirt and blue jeans, and a bag slung back over one shoulder. My gaze landed first on his toned, muscular arm and its subtle flex, and then my focus drifted back to his enormous smile—all white and perfect teeth and incredibly infectious.

  “Hey,” he said. His grin was nonstop, and my knees softened.

  “Hi,” I breathed.

  He twisted his arm, dropping the bag just inside the entry, and then pulled the door closed behind him. Off came the sunglasses, and with the full power of his gaze on me, the air in the suite went thin. It was no surprise why he’d landed so many endorsements even though his racing career hadn’t taken off yet. He was “easy-on-the-eyes,” as my mom would say, with his long nose, strong jawline, and lips that promised trouble.

  I did what felt natural—I strode forward and held my arms open. A handshake wasn’t going to cut it. It didn’t occur to me until it was too late that this could potentially backfire. What if a hug made things weird? What if I put my arms around him and didn’t let go?

  I strangled back my eager groan as he squeezed me tight. He smelled incredible, like he’d just stepped out of the shower and not off a four-hour flight. Did he always smell like this, or had he ducked into a restroom and put on cologne? The idea he might have done it for me made my heart skip along.

  “How was your flight?” My words were muffled against his shoulder.

  “It was good, thanks.” Rather than end the hug, he seemed to settle into it. “I can’t believe we got this to work out. It’s great to see you.”

  My already weak knees became less stable. Damnit, Anna! Pull yourself together. “Yeah, you too. I’m excited.” It was the truth. I’d been looking forward to this trip from the moment he suggested it.

  When we lapsed into silence, I slowly pulled back to end the hug but wondered if I should have lingered. I had the strange sensation he’d been as reluctant as I had been to step away.

  Jamie’s gaze slid from mine to scan the room. As he took in the couch and flatscreen TV, he hung his sunglasses in the neck of his shirt, probably knowing he’d need them again when it came time to leave. It was easier for guys to hide from their celebrity status. All they had to do was dress down, throw on a baseball hat and sunglasses, and they could blend in.

  “Rough gig you’ve got here,” he teased. He nodded to the sidebar, where a bottle sat in an ice bucket beside two glass flutes. “Is that champagne?”

  “It is.” I scurried to the bar, snatched up the bottle, and began to pour him a glass. “We’re celebrating in person.”

  He looked confused. “Celebrating?”

  Maybe driving in circles had given him temporary memory loss. “Your race? Your first NASCAR win.” I passed him the glass and then poured my own. “That’s huge. Congrats.”

  He gave me an “aw, shucks” look that was so cute, it was nearly fatal. He wasn’t the type of guy to blush, but his voice softened. “Right. Thanks.”

  I clinked the rims of our glasses together. “Bet that shut Rob up.”

  As I took a sip, Jamie paused. He acted like his win hadn’t made a difference.

  “Really?” I asked. “You said a win meant he’d give you some breathing room.”

  He pressed his sexy lips together into a line for a moment before speaking. “Breathing room, yeah. But I’m not safe. Rob’s got a ton of pull with the owner, and—” Jamie straightened abruptly, and his expression brightened. “You know what? I’m on vacation, so none of that matters right now. All I want to do this week is finish watching Game of Thrones and hang out with you.”

  Inside, I was dying, but I gave him a controlled smile. “Sounds good to me.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Jamie

  I sat in my first-class chair, which was a private pod, and scanned the week’s itinerary on my phone.

  Even though I’d never been to Hawaii, I’d been the one to suggest the trip, so I offered to plan the weeklong vacation. I’d done it with Anna’s assistant’s help. Sato was fucking amazing at her job—I could message the woman any time of day, and she would respond instantly with whatever I needed. She was a human Google.

  But because Sato was a professional and so on top of things, it meant she didn’t have time for my bullshit. She either didn’t get my sense of humor or didn’t have the patience for it. I’d figured that out right quick after the first few email exchanges we’d had fell flat. I stuck to business after that.

  The plans for the week were awesome, but it wasn’t what I was most looking forward to. I sat up straighter in my seat and glanced over the divider that separated my pod from Anna’s. We’d finished the final episode of Game of Thrones right as they served dinner, and she’d decided to grab a nap before we landed. She’d fallen asleep in two seconds after laying her seat flat. Maybe the engines had lulled her to sleep, but she’d probably become an expert at catching shuteye on planes.

  She was a brunette again, like how I remembered her. Her maple-colored hair draped over the airline pillow, and since she was turned inward, the view of her peaceful, sleeping face was only for me.

  Anna had been pretty in high school, but now? Fuck me, the girl was gorgeous. Her pale blue eyes were my favorite. I’d watched her, rather than my laptop screen, while we were finishing the final episode, and the way the range of emotions played through her eyes was fascinating. How they’d sparkle when she found something funny, or when they widened with surprise.

  Or how the blue of her eyes deepened during a sex scene.

  I was going to have to convince her to FaceTime me during the next show we decided to binge-watch. Now that I’d seen her reactions, I wasn’t going to miss them again.

  Her pink lips parted as she sighed in her sleep, and I had to rip my gaze away. I needed to stop thinking about how those lips would taste, or how she’d felt in my arms when we’d hugged earlier. It’d been hours ago, but my body didn’t get the message. I was still buzzing like I did in the aftermath of a crash I was lucky enough to walk away from. Adrenaline coursed through me, amplifying everything.

  I’d been existing in that heightened state since touching her. The longing I had—my desire—was it ever going to fade?

  I finished the glass of water on my tray table and tried to figure out when and how to make my move. Was she interested in more? I needed to find out—but do it in a way that wouldn’t make her uncomfortable or screw with our friendship.

  “Jamie. Can I ask you something?”

  I tur
ned in surprise. Anna was awake? You’d never know she’d been asleep thirty seconds ago. She sat upright in her seat, the blanket pooled around her waist, and peered up at me with hesitant eyes. Her voice had been soft, barely loud enough to hear over the engines.

  “Go for it,” I said.

  “Did you see my movie?”

  Sure, I only saw it five times.

  And the number would have been higher if there had been more theaters within reasonable driving distance. Showing up to see the movie alone was weird enough, I wasn’t going to do it multiple times at the same location.

  I dry-swallowed and wished I hadn’t finished my water. “Yeah.” I tried to look chill. “Didn’t I tell you already?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” She made a face as if she wasn’t sure what to say next. “So . . . what did you think?”

  Which time did she want me to answer for? Because the first time, I didn’t pay attention to a damn thing other than her. I’d had to go back and watch it the second time to follow the story. The third time? That had been for me.

  I couldn’t get her out of my head, but maybe my feelings were misplaced. Perhaps I was seeing her as the character she played, and my attraction was to that—not the real Anna.

  Except when the show was over, I knew what I felt had nothing to do with the blonde escort from Chicago she played on-screen, and everything to do with the brunette actress from Kentucky.

  The fourth and fifth time I’d gone because she was busy with her European tour and I was straight-up missing her. We didn’t get much time to talk, thanks to her schedule and the time difference, so seeing her on the big screen was a consolation.

  My long pause put fear in her eyes. “Oh, shit. You didn’t like it.”

  No, I’d loved it. I’d seen her movie so many times . . . hell, I could probably quote the dialogue to her. But I wasn’t about to. The last thing I wanted was to be weird and make her nervous. I had to play it safe.

  “No, I did,” I choked out. “It was good.”

  If I said anything more, I might start gushing like a fanboy.