The Terrible Personal Shopper (Surprised by Love Book 1)

by Laura Burton

“I had to see you,” Blaze says. His voice is so deep; it rumbles under my feet. With a wince and another glance at Olly’s door, I push Blaze to my room, open the door, and nudge him inside.

  Blaze moves willingly, though he laughs like I’m playing some sort of joke. I wonder if all of this is just a game to him. The thought riles me up even more.

  I shut the door and try to scowl at him, but I can’t because it suddenly hits me that Blaze is standing in my hotel room. The bed is so close––just one push and he’ll be laying on it.

  I shake the image away and steel my nerves. Now is not the time to think about Blaze on my bed.

  This is the time to be mad at Blaze for thinking he can buy me and treat me like a toy.

  “Why the long face?” he asks, his expression sunny. He rakes his hand through his hair, and his shirt lifts to reveal his abs. Something inside of me flutters like I swallowed a basket of butterflies.

  “How did you get here?” I ask, staring at his belt.

  Blaze’s laugh draws my attention away from his belt buckle and back up to his gaze. “By car, surprisingly.” He looks around my room and his eyes linger on my bra hanging over the chair in the corner. “This hotel is nice. Very... homely.”

  I shut my eyes, shake my head at the absurdity of the situation, and shuffle to the chair to hide my underwear from plain sight. “No. How did you get here with all the paparazzi?” I ask, grabbing my bra and chucking it behind the chair before I take a seat.

  There must be a mob outside the hotel now. It’ll be impossible to get outside without being caught on camera. Blaze must be reading my mind because he changes his tune and turns serious. “Don’t worry, no one knows I’m here.”

  “What about last night? The video leak? You said…”

  “It’s fine, I paid a doppelganger,” Blaze says, walking up to me and taking my hands. I pull away so fast; it tugs his mouth into a frown again. “What’s wrong?”

  I’m still reeling from the thought that there’s a doppelganger of Blaze walking around Paris, happy to get harassed by paparazzi because it’s his job. What’s wrong is in the real world? People don’t just throw money at a problem to make it go away.

  “You can’t be here,” I say, trying to make any sense of all the thoughts and emotions swirling inside of me. “What happened between us last night… It was a mistake.”

  Guilt rips through me as I watch Blaze’s eyes fill with hurt. “What do you mean?”

  “I told you in London, we need to keep things professional,” I march over to the bed and perch on the edge with a frustrated huff. “The moment I let my guard down, you take things too far, and now we’re in a total mess with the media.”

  “Who cares about the media?” Blaze asks, following me to the bed. The mattress squeaks under his weight and I almost fall onto him as he takes a seat beside me. “I thought that was why you quit.”

  “What?” I look up and our eyes meet. Now he’s closer, a warm wave of his masculine scent washes over me and bathes me in a soothing sense of calm.

  Blaze reaches for my hands again, and this time I can’t bring myself to pull them away. It’s like he’s got a spell on me.

  “You don’t work for me anymore. That means we don’t need to keep things professional,” he says, his breath tickling my cheeks. My face grows hot at the sight of his gaze lowering to my mouth. “Wait. You think I quit because of that?” I jump up, breaking away from him and snapping myself out of his charm.

  Blaze frowns again. I guess he’s not used to a woman being this difficult. I’m sure most women fall under his spell and turn into putty in his hands––his big, strong, veiny hands.

  I swallow hard and edge away until my back is pressed up against a wall.

  “Am I misinterpreting this?” Blaze asks, his dark brows furrowing. He looks down at the carpet like it’s a Sudoku puzzle. He’s cute when he’s confused.

  No. I can’t think like that.

  “I thought we were getting on great in London…”

  “We were,” I say.

  “We’ve been having fun getting to know each other, and I thought we’ve been enjoying each other’s company…”

  “We have,” I whisper.

  Blaze lifts his gaze to meet mine again. “And last night, we took our relationship to the next level.”

  “Relation––?” The word catches in my throat. I cough and try again. “Relationship?”

  Blaze squints at me, as though I’m all blurry to him and he can’t quite see me. “What exactly did Harper say to you last night?”

  I take a breath. “Only what everyone has been saying.”

  Blaze lifts a brow. “And that is…?”

  “That you brought me on this trip to amuse you.”

  The words make Blaze break into a devilish grin––the last reaction I expect him to make. “Well, I do find you amusing.”

  He’s flashing his teeth and both dimples are on show. It almost makes me break my resolve and smile back. Almost.

  But I hold it just enough to give him a hard look. His wicked grin vanishes.

  “I hope you don’t think I need to pay women to spend time with me.”

  I bite my lip. “That’s not what I said.”

  Blaze stands and towers over me––he’s a giant charged with testosterone and his manly pheromones are flooding the room. “Forget what other people are saying. Trust your gut,” he says, his voice soft. “Tell me what you’re feeling right now.”

  I hitch a breath. “Nervous.”

  Blaze takes a single step closer and my body temperature climbs. “What else?”

  I inhale his scent and my mouth waters. “Excited,” I say, after swallowing.

  Blaze’s cheeky grin is back. He takes another step and now there’s less than a foot between us. My chest begins to heave as my breaths turn shallow. “I hired you because I wanted to bring you on this trip. But not so that you can amuse me. I wanted to get to know you.” He brushes my hair away from my forehead and searches my eyes with his own. “Does your gut tell you I’m lying?”

  I have no idea what my gut is telling me. It’s writhing around and doing flips, sending a flood of anticipation throughout my body. I tense up, hardly daring to move a finger as Blaze looms over me, his heavy set eyes boring into my soul.

  “Do you want me to go?” Blaze whispers.

  Without thinking about it, I shake my head. I can no longer remember why I’m mad at Blaze, or why he shouldn’t be standing in my room.

  But I can’t give in to him just yet. A tiny part of my brain, the very stubborn part, insists on more clarity. “You said the word relationship,” I say, finding my voice again. “Want to elaborate on that?”

  Blaze strokes my arm, sending my heart into a fluttery mess. “I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but I know enough to know I want to be in a romantic relationship with you.”

  “That’s a lot of knowing in one sentence,” I chime back, breaking into a smile for the first time. My heart is picking up speed and it’s cracking my wall of defense. “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

  Lucy’s voice scoffs in my head. “Girlfriend. You’re not in high school anymore, Leila.”

  But Blaze doesn’t tease me about it. He looks at me so deeply, it feels like he’s prepping to dive right into my eyes and swim around in my head. “Sure… For now, at least.”

  Lucy’s voice wants to question what he means by that, but Chessy’s voice is louder, and she’s screaming at me to kiss him already.

  All of my emotions are now at the surface.

  I give my biggest grin. “Okay,” I whisper.

  I watch as Blaze’s face is flooded with relief, then an intense hunger takes over.

  But I’m no prey.

  I’m just as hungry as he is, and now that the wall around my heart has come crashing down, my heart is throbbing and swelling, longing for me to seal the deal with a kiss.

  As if he knows exactly what is going on in my head––o
r maybe he’s just unable to hold back any longer––Blaze closes the heated space between us.

  My skin sizzles with every brazen look and caress of my arm.

  We’re a tangled mess of flailing limbs; nipping, kissing, and squeezing in a totally unabashed manner in spite of the strong sunlight flooding the room.

  What if someone is aiming a long distance lens at my window and taking shots of this? Or what if housekeeping barges in through the door?

  Blaze kisses my neck and I exhale all of my worries, rolling my head back and giving in to the sweet blessed relief of finally letting Blaze in.

  There’s an almost childlike innocence to the way we explore each other. We’re content with touching only the parts of our bodies that are not covered in clothing.

  I kiss his hands, wrists, and all the way up his bulging arms. He plays with my hair and lifts my chin to caress my lips with his own. It’s the sweetest exchange.

  A shrill ringtone shatters the blissful moment and Blaze tears himself away from me to look at his phone. “I’m supposed to be at the Pavilion in five minutes.” He looks at me, his face flushed and his hair messy. I smooth it over and tuck it behind his ear. “It’s okay. You go do your job.”

  Blaze pecks me on the lips again. “See you later. For dinner?”

  I nod and watch him dash out of the room, leaving me in a cloud of dizziness and disbelief.

  Blaze and I are officially together. I throw myself on the bed with a squeal.

  And just like that, all is right in the world. The dazzling sunshine is a perfect reflection of my mood. Sure, I’m jobless again and I need to figure out what to do with my career. But I’m dating Blaze Hopkins, my celebrity crush, and nothing else can go wrong.

  Chapter 20

  Blaze

  Leila and I spend all our free time finding new places to explore for the rest of our stay in Paris. We dance cheek to cheek to a string quartet in a small courtyard. She snuggles up to me in the theatre as we watch a foreign movie––we have no idea what is being said, and we don’t care.

  We walk hand in hand along cobbled streets and sit on a rooftop to watch the sky bathe the city in the golden glow of the setting sun.

  A surprising line is drawn in the sand though, one that I never saw coming.

  It’s not put in words, as such. But it’s made clear by meaningful looks and the gentle ways she pulls away when I try to edge over it.

  For whatever reason, Leila isn’t ready to sleep with me. And no matter how badly I want her, I won’t push her to make that step until she’s ready.

  So we make an unspoken agreement to slow things down and cruise along, spending quality time together the old-fashioned way.

  It’s not my usual style of dating, but it’s refreshing.

  Thankfully, Leila agrees to join me in the upper class cabin for our flight to Tokyo.

  There’s smiles all round as Leila cracks sarcastic jokes to Martin, and asks Eddie more questions about his comic book. I sit back and grin broadly, listening to her banter with my peers, and learning more about them in mere hours than I knew about all of them collectively over the last year. Harry looks on like a proud parent at the sight of Leila holding my hand, our fingers interlocked as she absent-mindedly caresses my arm with her free hand.

  There is, of course, one smile that is less than genuine. Harper’s.

  For the most part, she keeps to herself––tucked away with her eye mask on and headphones planted firmly over her ears. But she occasionally emerges from her cocoon to have a drink, smiling in this very strained way that makes me want to tell her not to bother.

  I can’t figure Harper out, but whenever I think about it, the thought is blown away by the sound of Leila’s laugh, or the touch of her hand.

  We land in Tokyo, and none of us can work out what time it is. We stagger off the plane, wander through the airport like zombies, and make a beeline for the line of cars waiting for us.

  Leila looks around, her eyes wide and mouth open. “So, this is Japan?”

  Seeing the world through Leila’s eyes is like going to a different planet. She notices all the things I overlook––like the fact that the streets of Tokyo don’t have a lot of trash cans, yet they’re cleaner than the streets of Cologne.

  And the fact that everyone walks on the left side of the sidewalk, something she mentions as we walk to our hotel.

  She grabs her phone and starts pointing it at every single sign or window with writing on. “Look at this! Google translate will take any picture and translate it for you!” She goes to town, taking pictures and telling me what everything says.

  Her energy is infectious. I’m completely jet-lagged, but I’m buzzing.

  “What’s the agenda for tomorrow?” I ask Martin when we reach the hotel lobby. He gives me an incredulous look. “Seriously? We already went over it on the plane.”

  “Ah.” I give him a guilty grin. That must have been around the time I zoned out and was just staring at Leila, watching her play with her hair and nibble her bottom lip.

  “Run the highlights by me again,” I say. Martin sighs.

  “We’re having breakfast with some media executives in two hours, then it’s straight to the studio for a promo shoot and a YouTube video Q&A…” Martin reels off the rest of the plans and my heart sinks at the thought of not being able to go sightseeing with Leila.

  “You’ll be done for the night at nine,” Harry says with a nod. Answering my real question.

  I didn’t need to know the agenda. I needed to know when I’ll be able to take Leila out on our first date in Japan. I give him a grateful nod.

  “That sounds like a lot. Leila, are you sure I can’t tempt you with a few tiny tasks to keep you busy?” Harper asks Leila, flicking her hair back. “You know, seeing as you’ll be alone all day with nothing better to do.”

  Leila looks at me. Then at all the people milling around the lobby. “I’m really tired, I’ll be glad to sleep all day.”

  Harper chuckles. “Well, you enjoy your rest. I guess you’re going to need it.” She shoots me a wry look. “But if you change your mind and want to earn an honest living for once, you know where I am.” She slurs the last word and I frown.

  Martin returns from the front desk and hands over our room keys. I give one to Leila and tell her to go ahead. “I’ll follow you up in a second.”

  Leila follows Martin and Eddie toward the elevator. When they disappear round the corner, I spin and give Harper a hard look. “Are you drunk?”

  Harper’s eyes droop as she pulls a face. “No.” She pats my chest and walks forward, but drops her room key on the floor. I pick it up and catch up with her. “What do you think you’re playing at, going after Leila like that?”

  Harper pulls out a mini bottle of vodka from her purse and takes out the stopper. “That’s none of your business. What happens between me and Leila, is between me…” she gulps the drink with a wince, then she coughs, “...and me.”

  I roll my eyes and hand over her key card. “Just leave Leila alone, all right?”

  I move to walk away but notice that Harper has not followed. I spin and catch a glimpse of her white blonde ponytail walking past the windows outside.

  There’s only one thing worse than an actress walking the streets of Tokyo––a drunk actress walking the streets of Tokyo.

  Glancing around for her bodyguards, and seeing no one in sight, I dash out after her.

  Now I really wish I hadn’t talked Martin out of hiring more security for the group. I wrestle through the crowd of people, wondering why everyone is walking toward me, when Leila’s voice enters my head. “Look, Blaze! People keep to the left.” I hop sideways and find a clear path to Harper as she staggers ahead.

  She’s just about to stumble into traffic when I reach her. I grab her by the shoulders and spin her around to face me. “Hey, Blaze, fancy seeing you here,” Harper says, her face breaking into a smile.

  “You can’t walk in the street at night like this,” I
say, shaking her slightly. Harper taps my cheek like a patronizing aunt. “You worry too much.”

  Shaking my head, I coax her away from the street and back toward the hotel. “Come on, let’s get you to your room.”

  When I walk into my suite, the room is dark but for the soft glow of streetlights pouring in through the white curtains. I scan the room for any sign of Leila and find her snuggled up on the couch, sound asleep.

  Just watching her shoulder rise and fall makes me sleepy. I kiss her right temple and cradle her in my arms as I lift her off the couch. She stirs, but rolls to my chest and nuzzles into my arm.

  Biting my tongue, and praying a floorboard doesn’t squeak, I carry her across the room to the large bed and tuck her in. She sighs and curls up into a ball on her side as I drape the cotton sheets over her sleeping body. I stand still, watching her for as long as I can without feeling like a creep. Part of me wishes I could stay with her all night, just stroking her hair and protecting her from strangers and drunk actresses too bitter and jealous to let anyone else be happy.

  I want to hold her as close as I can, so nothing bad ever happens to her again.

  But I remember the line, so I press my lips to her forehead and whisper goodnight into her ear. I move away, planning to set up a bed on the couch, when a hand flies out from under the cover with ninja fast reflexes. It grasps my thigh and squeezes so hard, her nails pinch my skin.

  “Stay.”

  I take off my jeans and pull my shirt over my head as Leila wriggles over to let me in. Then I slide into the bed and lay next to her, draping my arm around her body.

  She fits snug and perfectly against me, and the warmth of her pressed up against me is one of the best things I’ve ever felt. I stroke her hair and she whimpers like she’s in the middle of a bad dream. I lean in to hear her better. “Don’t leave me. Please. Don’t leave me.”

  I kiss the back of her neck and bury my face in her hair, puffing air out of my nose. Then I squeeze her as tight as I can without waking her before I lift my head and make a promise I intend to keep for the rest of my existence.