by Force, Marie
Randy bounds into the house and heads straight for his water bowl, parched after hanging his head out the window all the way home. I get him settled and then head out to my appointment, which is a couple of blocks from my house, so I walk.
They know me at the salon and spa I’ve frequented for years, and the receptionist waves me through to the waxing area, where Bryn, my longtime friend, greets me with a hug. In her mid-twenties, Bryn is petite with hot pink hair, multiple studs in her ears and one in her nose, and sleeve tattoos on both arms. She’s one of the coolest girls I know.
“Look at how tan you are!”
“I’m not tan. I have a few more freckles.”
“Well, for you that’s tan. Come on in.”
Bryn talks to me like we’re out for drinks while she waxes my legs and bikini area. In deference to my plans, I go for a full Brazilian.
“Got a hot date?” she asks when we’re finished.
“Something like that.” I’m not sure what you’d call what I have planned with Jasper, but “date” doesn’t seem like the right word.
“The rags are reporting that Flynn’s wife is already knocked up. Their words, not mine.”
“Well, she’s not. They’re waiting awhile to have kids.”
“You know how I love having the inside scoop. Were you there when Hayden and his fiancée got engaged?”
“I wasn’t in the room, but they were with us in Mexico. It was very exciting.”
“I can’t believe he’s engaged,” Bryn says of a man she’s never actually met. I’m endlessly amused, as someone on the periphery of fame, at how people think they know celebrities when all they actually know about them is what’s reported. And most of that is pure garbage. “I figured he’d still be a single playboy at fifty.”
“He and Addie are amazing together. He’s very happy.”
“That’s incredibly sweet,” she says with a sigh. “He’s sooooo hot. I mean, like crazy, wild, sexy hot.”
“Tell me how you really feel,” I reply dryly.
She laughs and sends me on my way to my “date” with Jasper, ready for whatever might happen.
* * *
By the time eight o’clock rolls around, I’m a hot mess of nerves and anxiety and stress. I want to zip back in time to the morning of Hayden and Addie’s engagement and not tell Jasper how badly I want a baby. I want to undo our verbal agreement and put a stop to this before we do something that can’t be undone.
My phone chimes with a text from Marlowe Sloane, movie star, Quantum principal and one of my closest friends.
I’ve got a name for that exclusive dating service I told you about in Mexico.
In another weak vacation moment, I confessed to Marlowe my plan to sign on with an agency to find my Mr. Right. I vow right here and now never to touch tequila again. That’s the only excuse I have for all the secrets I spilled in Mexico—secrets that can’t be put back in the bottle now that they’re out.
I’m going to send Serenity’s contact info. She’s expecting your call.
Thanks. What’s the name of the agency?
It doesn’t have one. She keeps it very low-key and off the radar to protect the privacy of her clients. You’ll be in good hands with her.
Have you used her?
Nah. You know me. No interest in dating. At all. Let me know what you think of her.
I will, thanks again.
No prob.
I find it humorous that Marlowe, who could have any man she wants, can’t be bothered with dating. Not that I blame her. How would she ever know if a man wanted her or access to her celebrity lifestyle? It’s much easier for me as the daughter and sister of stars and the friend of stars to manage my life outside the limelight that’s always shining nearby but doesn’t quite touch me. I like it that way, especially after watching the paparazzi relentlessly pursue my brother. They nearly ruined his relationship with Natalie before it even got started. I’d never want to live the way he does.
No, I’m totally fine with my off-the-grid existence in Venice Beach. I’d just like to find a nice guy to share that low-key existence with. Tomorrow morning, I’ll reach out to Marlowe’s friend to get that ball rolling. In the meantime, I’ve got dinner with a sexy Brit to look forward to.
I contemplate my closet, trying to find the right thing to wear to dinner with the friend who will father my child. Haven’t seen that particular scenario in any of the fashion magazines. I settle on an outfit that makes me feel sexy and feminine—a flirty skirt and matching top that reveals more of my breasts than I normally show.
I want to be pretty for him, which makes me feel silly. But that doesn’t matter. I want to knock his socks off. It occurs to me as I’m putting some long spiral curls into my hair that he has never been to my house, and I didn’t tell him where I live. A burst of panic has me checking my phone to see if he’s texted, but there’s nothing since Marlowe’s last message.
Hopefully, he’ll find me. We never hang out at my house because everyone else has much bigger places than I do. I’m putting on mascara when I hear Randy start to bark. Glancing at my phone, I see that Jasper is right on time. I take a deep breath, check the mirror one last time and head for the front door, telling my roommate to pipe down.
I open the door, and there he is, handsome, sexy, amused. Did I mention sexy? He’s wearing a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up on his forearms and black pants. No jeans or T-shirts for this guy. No, he always looks like he stepped off the pages of a men’s fashion magazine.
“Come in. You found me. I was wondering if you had the address.”
“I had to do a little detective work, but I found you.”
The voice, the accent, the entire enticing package has the usual effect on me. It won’t take much effort on his part to put me in the mood for baby-making when the time comes. I only have to think about getting naked with Jasper for my body to feel electrified with desire. I can’t imagine what the reality will be like.
Chapter 5
“You look smashing, darling.”
“Thank you.” I appreciate that he approves and that he says so. Most of the guys I’ve dated fail to notice the effort put into date preparation, and it’s always a disappointment when they don’t seem to care that I at least tried.
“And your home is beautiful, too. What a gem.”
“I’ve restored every inch of it myself.”
“Is that so? I’ll need to hear more about these hidden talents of yours.”
The most mundane things take on dirty overtones when said in that accent, but the words “hidden talents” are positively filthy. “Where’re we going? Do I need a sweater?”
“Wouldn’t hurt to bring one. It got chilly after the sun set.”
As I go into my bedroom to grab a sweater, I realize he didn’t say where we’re going. When I return, he’s down on one knee giving Randy some much-appreciated love.
“What a lovely boy you are.” Yes, even that—a compliment intended for my dog—sounds sexy coming from him.
“That’s Randolph, also known as Randy.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Randolph.” Randy laps up the attention, snuggling into Jasper’s neck. He laughs at the dog’s shamelessness. “Any port in a storm, huh, buddy?”
“He gives his heart to anyone who wants it.”
Jasper looks up at me with gorgeous golden-brown eyes filled with delight. “You want to bring him with us?”
“Oh, um, that would be okay?”
“Absolutely.” He gives Randy one more pat on the head and then stands to his full height. “I thought we could use some privacy for the things we need to discuss, so I’m having dinner delivered to my place in Malibu. I hope that’s okay.”
His place. By ourselves. Well, with Randy if I choose to bring him, and why wouldn’t I if we’re not going out? “Sure, that’s fine.”
“Shall we?” He ushers me and Randy on his leash out the door to a low-slung gunmetal-gray sports coupe that I haven’t seen before
.
“This car is far too nice for Randy,” I say, admiring the sleek lines.
“He’s fine.” Jasper produces a blanket out of the trunk that he lays across the well behind the two seats for Randy. “Up you go, Randolph.”
My dog responds to Jasper as if he’s the one who feeds him. Once he has the dog settled, he holds the door for me, waiting until I’m belted in to close the door. It smells like leather and cologne and man. I want to breathe in that scent until I have it committed to memory. The aroma only gets better when the man himself gets into the driver’s side and starts the car.
“What kind of car is this?”
“Your brother would be appalled that you have to ask.”
“Trust me, I know, but I’m clueless when it comes to cars despite his best efforts to educate me.”
Chuckling, Jasper says, “It’s a Jaguar.” In his accent, that comes out as jag-y-ar.
“It’s lovely.”
“I like it.”
“Is it new? I haven’t seen it before.”
“A recent acquisition, a little gift-to-self after the Oscar.”
“Good for you. You should celebrate winning the Oscar. It’s an amazing accomplishment.”
“I owe it all to your brother and Hayden. They had an incredible vision for Camouflage, and it was an honor to be part of it.”
“It’s my favorite movie ever—and not just because my brother starred in it. Everything about it was perfection, especially the cinematography.”
“You flatterer,” he says, laughing.
“No, I mean it. The camera work was exceptional, and you deserved every award you received.”
“Thank you, darling. I appreciate that.”
My heart does a funny fluttery thing when he calls me that. “How did you get into filmmaking?”
He pauses for a second before he says, “I don’t ever recall a time when I wasn’t taking pictures and making movies, beginning with a camera my grandfather gave me and an eight-millimeter camera that someone gave my dad for Christmas one year. He never touched it, but I filmed everything. I drove my family mad with it. Captured a few things we’d all rather forget.” I notice that he tightens his grip on the wheel and that his jaw pulses with unusual tension. “But it was definitely my calling. Over my father’s vociferous objections, I attended film school at USC, did a few well-placed internships, met your brother and Hayden on one of my first films, and the rest, as they say, is history.”
“Why did your father object if it was obviously your calling?”
“He thinks anything having to do with Hollywood and the movie business is vulgar, and of course it is, which is why we all love it so much.” This is said with the humor I’ve come to expect from him, but I don’t miss the bitter edge to his voice.
“What did he say when you won the Oscar? Nothing vulgar about that.”
“That’s the very epitome of vulgar. Have you seen that statue? It would be stuffed in a closet in my father’s home.”
Suddenly, I’m angry on his behalf. “He wasn’t happy for you?”
“Darling,” he says indulgently, patting my knee, “I don’t give a rat’s arse whether or not he was happy for me. His opinion stopped mattering to me decades ago. He’s just the man who spawned me. My mum and sisters were thrilled. That’s more than enough for me. And my family, my real family these days, is all of you. My Quantum family.”
I’m terribly sad to think that he could win his profession’s top award and not have a father who was bursting with pride the way mine would be.
“Not everyone gets a Max Godfrey,” he says softly.
I send him a rueful smile. “You read my mind.” After a pause, I ask, “Are you close to any of them?”
“I talk to my mum and sisters quite regularly. One of them is in New York, and the others are back in England, raising families, doing what’s expected of them.”
“So you’re the black sheep?”
“Something like that.” As always, his wry humor comes through, even when discussing what sounds like an estrangement from his father. I’d love to know the details, but I’d never ask for more than he’s willing to share—and I sense he’s already told me more than he usually tells anyone. Over the years, I’ve heard him tell hilarious stories from his years at boarding school, but I realize I’ve never once heard him talk about his father. Now I know why.
“And here I’ve been pouting all afternoon because my mom told me she’s been offered a residency at Caesars Palace in Las Vegas.”
“Wow, good for her.”
“Absolutely, but what does it say about me at almost thirty-six that the thought of my parents living somewhere else half the year breaks my heart?”
“That you love them and are extremely close to them.”
“Yes,” I say softly, horrified by a rush of tears. “And how do I have a baby without them to hold both my hands?”
“Awww, poor poppet. Your mummy is going away and leaving you.”
I try not to laugh and fail. “Don’t make fun of me. I’m quite distraught over this unexpected development.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but knowing Stella as I do, if she were to hear another wee one is on the way, is it possible she might turn down that delicious offer in Vegas?”
“I suppose she probably would, but that makes me feel selfish. It’s such a great opportunity for her. I’d hate to see her turn it down because of me.”
“So which is it?” he asks, laughing. “You want her to stay or you want her to go?”
“I don’t know! I’m an awful daughter.”
“That’s hardly true. You and your sisters and brother are very devoted to your parents, and I envy the Godfrey family bond. I truly do.”
“Well, you’re certainly part of the Godfrey family. You know that.”
“Thank you, love. That’s kind of you to say.”
I shiver in my seat and not because the night air is chilly. No, it’s the way he calls me “love” and “darling.” He’s easy to talk to, even when he’s poking fun at my dithering. “It’s true. Everyone at Quantum is part of our family. That’s the way my parents have always been. They collect people. Their friends, our friends, everyone is always welcome. I want to be like that with my child. I want mine to be the house they all come to because we’ve got the best snacks and a mom who’s genuinely interested in them the way my mom was.”
“That sounds lovely,” he says with a wistful sigh.
“I’m sorry. You just said you had a difficult time with your father, and here I am going on—”
His hand covers mine, warm and solid and delicious. “No apologies needed. Your vision of motherhood is truly lovely, and our child will be very lucky to have you for a mum.”
I think my fallopian tubes just melted. At the rate at which he makes important parts of me melt, I won’t have a reproductive system worth a damn when I need it. Turning my hand up so we are palm to palm, I give his a squeeze.
“I get all fluttery inside when you talk of our child,” I confess. “I still can’t believe this is actually happening.”
“No post-vacation regrets?”
Alarmed, I look over to find him watching the road with no hint of amusement in his expression. “N-no. Do you? Have regrets, I mean?” I die ten thousand deaths as I wait for him to reply.
He squeezes my hand, setting off fireworks in my bloodstream. “I have no regrets, and I can’t wait to get started.”
My sigh of relief is audible.
Glancing over at me, he frowns ever so slightly. “You didn’t actually think I’d back out, did you?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been all over the place about this for days. I’m an emotional disaster area, which is why my mom’s news hit me so hard today.”
“I would never do that to you, Ellie. Ever.”
“Thank you for understanding how much this means to me.”
“I do understand, and I’m fully committed to infusing my capital.”
I laugh, but only because spontaneous combustion isn’t an option. I’d hate to make a mess in his new car. Every part of me is awake and alive and filled with anticipation.
We arrive at his gorgeous but cozy contemporary-style house in Malibu, where I’ve been a guest many times in the past. Randy goes bounding in ahead of us, giving the new place a thorough sniffing. He’s fully trained, so I’m not concerned about him lifting his leg, but I keep an eye on him anyway.
“Don’t worry,” Jasper says from behind me. “There’s nothing he can hurt here. Let him have his fun.”
His hand lands on my shoulder, and I startle from the unexpected contact.
“Whoa.” He has both hands on my shoulders now. “What’s this?”
“I’m nervous.” The confession seems to relieve some of the anxiety that has knotted in my belly.
“To be with me?” he asks, sounding incredulous. The whisper of his breath against my neck sets off a chain reaction of sensation that ends in a throb between my legs. I’ve been on edge all day, and I had blamed that on Pete because his batteries died before he could finish the job last night. But now I know it wasn’t Pete’s fault. It’s Jasper.
“No, it’s not that.” I’m so glad he’s behind me and can’t see the scarlet hue that has overtaken my face.
Naturally, he turns me, forcing me to reveal my embarrassment to him. “Then what?” He runs a finger over my right cheek. “What’s wrong?”
I force myself to look up at him. “Are you worried that it’ll be weird?”
“That what will be weird?”
God, is he really going to make me say it? “This. You, me, us.”
“The sex part, you mean?”
“Ah, yeah,” I say with a nervous laugh.
With both hands now framing my face, he shakes his head slowly. It takes a second for me to realize he’s getting closer, and my breath catches in my throat in the second before his lips brush up against mine. “I don’t think it’ll be weird.” His voice is a gruff whisper that sets off more fireworks inside me. “I don’t think it’ll be weird at all.” He draws me in closer, until our bodies are pressed together. The unmistakable shape of his erection against my belly lets me know he’s equally affected.
