by Maisey Yates
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I got it covered.”
He bit down on her right nipple and sucked until he heard her moan. Every day should start like this, except it was already lunchtime. They’d slept in. Sunlight burst through the stained glass windows, fighting its way into their cocoon. And he was hungry.
She reached down and cupped him between the legs, startling him. “Are these a matching set?”
“Don’t, Nina,” he warned. “You’ll wake up the Knight.”
“Wait! What?” She pulled away from him and sat up on her knees. “Is that what you call it?”
“It suits him, don’t you think? He’s honorable and brave.”
“Brave?” She laughed. “He bravely goes where no man—”
He pinched her chin between his thumb and index finger and pulled her in for a kiss. “Silly woman.”
“Is he dependable?” she asked.
“Rain or shine, gets the job done.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about him as if he’s not in the room.”
Julian agreed. “His ego is pretty fragile.”
“Why? He’s such a tall, proud soldier.”
“A knight. Please don’t mess with his title.” He reached for the room service menu on the bedside table. “Breakfast?”
“Yes, please.” She tossed aside the crumpled bedsheet and knelt between his legs. “I could eat.”
He closed his eyes. His last coherent thought was that he must be the luckiest bastard in the world.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Nina was curled up in the wide bed, listening to the sounds of Julian in the shower, when her phone rang. It was on the nightstand next to Julian’s two mobile phones and his array of chargers. Seeing their devices lumped together like that bothered her. It looked to her as if they were becoming a couple. Rattled, she reached for her phone and answered without first checking the caller ID. “Hello.”
“Hey, Nina? It’s me. Checking in again.”
“Valerie?”
“Yes,” she said. “I was in the neighborhood and decided to stop by your hotel.”
“Excuse me?” Nina stammered.
“You’re here, right? Staying at the Sand Castle.”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’m downstairs. In the courtyard. Are you free to chat?”
Nina sat up and drew the blanket over her bare legs. There was no question her cousin had seen the photos and read the blog posts. Her identity was no longer a mystery, and her social media accounts were clogged with mentions. No doubt Valerie wanted to check in on the state of her mental health. Was it out of character for Nina to hook up with a high-profile movie star? Absolutely. Was it any of her cousin’s business? Absolutely not. But Nina hadn’t grown up in a tight-knit nuclear family, and she was fuzzy on the rules. What was the best way to deal with an interfering but well-meaning cousin without coming off as rude?
Nina lowered the phone to her bare chest and took a few sharp breaths to calm down. It didn’t work. Through clenched teeth, she said, “I’ll be right down.”
* * *
Ten minutes later, Nina came down the grand stairway in the same frilly dress she’d worn out to dinner the night before. Valerie Pierre, a lawyer, looked polished in a blue pantsuit. A curvy woman with deep brown skin, she wore her hair in a cropped Afro. She stood by the fountain, scrolling on her phone. Nina hadn’t seen her since her mother’s funeral. Valerie was the only relative on her father’s side of the family who had bothered to show up. The others sent flowers, food and money. For that reason, she couldn’t kick her to the curb—as much as she wanted to.
“Hey there,” Nina said with an awkward wave.
“Nina!”
Valerie rushed over and pulled her into a hug. Her genuine warmth melted away Nina’s icy irritation. They ended up at a table on the terrace with coffee and pastries.
“Don’t worry,” Valerie said, eyeing her from behind her large glasses. “I’ll be out of your hair soon. I have to get back to work.”
“There’s no rush. It’ll be great to catch up.”
Valerie pursed her lips. “Yeah. I’m just going to jump right in.”
Nina gave her a blank smile. “What do you mean?”
“Okay. So, last night, I was clicking around the web for reviews of Thunder III. Patrick wanted to stream it, but I’d heard some negative things.”
Nina smirked at the mention of Valerie’s husband. It was like Julian had said—women rarely owned up to liking the films. It was always a boyfriend or husband. Men did the same with dance or baking competition shows. It was always the girlfriend or wife who made them tune in every week.
She handed Nina her phone. “Then I stumble on this.”
Nina pinched the screen to zoom in on the offensive content. A website had put together a slideshow of her and Julian’s courtship in chronological order under the headline, Love Him or Hate Him, JL Knight Heats Things Up in Miami.
Photo #1: JLK and Nina Taylor* on a balcony at Sand Castle gaze into each other’s eyes behind a veil of summer rain. #Meetcute?
Photo #2: JLK dives into a pool—fully dressed—to rescue his girl. #RescueMeJLK
Photo #3: JLK assists his lady friend into a waiting car, his hand dangerously close to her ass. #PDA
Photo #4: JLK kisses his woman under the stars. #TrueLoveKiss
(*Nina Taylor is an author. Her memoir, Backstage Diva, debuted at number seventeen on the NYT bestseller list.)
The last photo was of her and Julian’s first kiss. It was the one photo of the bunch that truly upset her. She would have liked to keep that moment private. The sneaky photographer had caught an intimate moment. That night she had suspected they were being watched, and now she had proof. It had to have been Pete. He was the only one lurking around that night.
“Those photos are misleading.” Nina tried to rationalize the irrational. “He did rescue me and we went out a few times, but there’s nothing to that kiss and—”
Valerie reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “I’m not here to pry. But this is a whole lot of drama and I’m concerned, that’s all.”
“We’re working together.” Nina regretted the words almost immediately. Had Julian expected her to keep it confidential?
Valerie made a face. “Working on what? Not another Thunder movie!”
“I’m not at liberty to say. And please don’t tell anyone.”
“Nina,” Valerie said gravely, “that guy hooks up with every one of his costars. Don’t you keep up with this stuff?”
Nina realized that her smart-girl image, her large-and-in-charge persona, was a liability. Valerie couldn’t imagine her having a vacation fling or even having fun. Any outlandish behavior on her part, any bit of drama, had to be a cry for help.
“Scratch that,” Valerie said. “Your sex life is none of my business. Just make sure any contract you sign is airtight. The last woman he worked with got cut from his movie. And they were engaged, too.”
“They were not engaged.” For whatever reason, Nina was eager to clarify this point.
“Wait,” Valerie said, looking past Nina’s shoulder. “Is that him?”
A quick glance in the direction that Valerie had hinted at confirmed that it was in fact Julian and he was making his way toward their table. As always, the sight of him thrilled her. He looked fresh in his usual T-shirt and jeans. Her gaze fell to the travel bag slung over his shoulder, and she recalled that he was flying to Atlanta to speak with Bettina. Nina took a sip of coffee to cure a sudden headache.
“Heading out to the airport,” he said. “Thought I’d say goodbye.”
“And I’d like to say hello.” Valerie popped up and introduced herself. “Hi! I’m Valerie Pierre, Nina’s cousin.”
“Nice to meet you. I didn’t know Nina had family in Miami.”
He went on to ask her where she lived and what she did for a living. And for a while they chatted like old friends. Valerie was obviously starstruck. Her bright eyes, overly broad smile and unbridled laughter were dead giveaways. Nina was baffled. How quickly the ice had thawed! Considering Valerie’s low opinion of Julian, this was an astonishing 180.
When the time came to say goodbye, Nina caught the hesitation in Julian’s eyes. He made no attempt to hug or kiss her, no doubt dissuaded by her stiff body language. He waved, and she waved back. Once he was out of her sight, it was all Nina could do to keep from chasing after him.
She’d played this wrong, waffling in front of her cousin like that. Julian wasn’t much older than her, but it was likely he’d matured past the need to play games. Except she was genuinely freaking out. Despite photo slideshows proving the contrary, she’d enjoyed their relative privacy. This hotel was their safe haven. She wasn’t ready to answer questions about their relationship.
Valerie settled back in her seat. “So…that’s Julian.”
Nina nodded slowly. “That’s Julian.”
“I like him. He seems cool.”
Nina was so relieved that she broke out in a cold sweat. It scared her how badly she wanted Valerie to like him, to differentiate the man in the crappy movie from the man she was sharing a bed with. At the same time, it saddened Nina that she needed outside validation.
“The rumors are true,” Nina blurted. “Everything you’ve read about us is true. We’re…” She searched for an elegant term and came up short. “We’re hooking up.”
“I hope so!” Valerie said. “Imagine coming all this way for an intervention and have nothing to intervene in. Do you know how much it costs to park on Ocean Drive?”
Nina wondered why an intervention was even required. “Is it so crazy what I’m doing?”
Valerie fixed her with her amber eyes. “Honestly? Yes. But just because it’s crazy doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it. Life is short. You’ll need an exit strategy, though. Do you have one?”
Nina stared into her empty coffee cup. Sooner or later, she and Julian would part ways and return to their respective worlds. That wasn’t so much a strategy as the charted course of a doomed voyage.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Julian stood watching Bettina tumble into bed with a much younger man—younger than him, anyway. The guy was shirtless, hairless and slim. Bettina wore a white towel around her torso. In a moment or so, it would fall away. But this being Hollywood, nothing was as it appeared. Bettina was playing the role of Jennifer Duncan, a prosecutor who, for whatever reason, was sleeping with a key witness in a high-profile case. The man who played her lover was Pierce Alexander, an acclaimed film actor gunning for an Emmy. Finally, they weren’t on a Hollywood back lot, but a soundstage in Atlanta.
Bettina and Pierce kissed with abandon until the director yelled, “Cut!”
Bettina pulled herself up and darted a look his way, her face tight with frustration. She raised an index finger. One sec.
Julian shrugged. Take your time.
He missed being in a long-term relationship. He loved the shorthand couples shared, even when it was passive-aggressive as hell.
Bettina and her costar huddled with the director for a few minutes, then she hobbled over in fuzzy slippers. Her red hair was damp and brushed away from her face. Her eye makeup was artfully smudged, and her freckles were double the actual amount. This was her third season playing Jennifer Duncan, a civil servant who managed to live in great style on a state government salary.
“Thanks for meeting me here,” she said. “Can’t do lunch. We don’t have Pierce for long, so we’ll be working through the day.”
Julian cocked his head, a nice way of saying. Screw Pierce. Seeing her on set with the actor had triggered a jolt of jealousy. But it wasn’t fresh emotion, just something warmed up from the past, and he knew it.
“How about later? Come to the hotel. We’ll have a drink at the bar.”
Bettina searched his face with those clever green eyes. “A rendezvous at a hotel bar? That’s not what exes do.”
That wasn’t what he was proposing. He simply didn’t want to offer her a job while on the set of her current job. “I’m clear on that.”
Julian’s palms were sweating. He shoved his hands in his back pockets and thrust out his chest. Bettina caught the gesture and laughed. “You’re nervous! Could you come out with it? I don’t have all day.”
He came out with it. “Betty, where do you stand on us working together again?”
“You and me?”
“Yes.”
“Christ, no!” She recoiled from him. “Haven’t we been through enough?”
The director called out her name and held up five fingers. “Got it!” she fired back and turned to Julian. “Just curious. What project did you have in mind?”
“Midnight Sun.”
She laughed again, her bare shoulders bobbing. More freckles had been painted there, too. “Your pet project?”
He waited for the barb to lose its sting. They were regressing. It was starting to feel like old times. Except this tense exchange wasn’t about her choice of restaurant or his pile of clothes on the bathroom floor. This concerned their careers and everything they’d worked so hard to achieve. Bettina would be phenomenal in the role of Amanda King. He’d written the role with her in mind. But this project was supposed to mark a fresh start. How could they move forward if they were forever in each other’s way?
“Sorry,” she said. “That came out wrong.”
The apology threw Julian off the path he was heading down. He stared at her without understanding. Bettina never apologized; at best she shared the blame.
“Don’t look so shocked. I’m working on myself.”
For the year that they’d been apart, Julian had been working on himself, too. But he’d been so close to walking out on Bettina just now, which was his MO. The theatrical exit was a signature move. Also, he had a tendency to be pushy. He could no longer deny that he’d been pushy with Nina. He’d pushed her into accepting to work on the script and again, last night, he’d pushed her to agree to stay. It had to stop. His bullishness stemmed from fear of losing her. He was sure they were at the start of something significant, but they needed time.
The director shouted, “Actors on set!”
Bettina snapped to attention. “You’ve got to go, Julian. The next scene is a closed set.”
He played his last card. “I don’t know if this makes a difference, but Francisco Cortes is directing.”
Bettina was walking away backward and came close to knocking over a piece of lighting equipment. She stopped short. “For real?”
“I wouldn’t make it up.”
“Quiet on set!” the director bellowed.
Bettina waved goodbye and went back to work. A makeup artist approached her and began dabbing her forehead with a sponge. Julian exited the brick building at end of an alley lined with similarly bland buildings. The sky was the color of ash, and rain made the sidewalk slick. The driver sprang out of the car with an umbrella, but Julian was quick to slide into the back seat unassisted.
“To the W, Mr. Knight?”
“No. The airport.”
Just as the car pulled away from the curb, he caught sight of Bettina, yanking on a robe as she stepped out of the building. Julian asked the driver to wait and rolled down the window. “What is it?”
She shielded her eyes from the sting of rain. “Send me the script. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll read it.”
“I can’t ask for more,” Julian said. “Now get back inside. Pierce is waiting.”
She gave him the finger. He blew her a kiss.
* * *
Nina spent the rest of the day working on the script. In the evening, she took her journal to the garden. She was greeted by the smell o
f freshly cut grass and nothing else. She had expected to find Grace enjoying a glass of wine, but the garden was empty. She paid respects to the goddess Aphrodite, plopped down in a rattan chair and flipped open her journal, picking up where she’d left off.
“You look lonely in there.”
“You mean peaceful. I’m at peace in here.”
“Well…we can’t have that.”
Julian climbs into the tub. Water splashes everywhere, creating puddles on the marble floor. I give him my expert Goldilocks assessment. “This tub is too small!”
“Feels just right to me.”
Our wet hands grab for each other, and his feels just right in mine. I fit him inside me. His moan is just a rumble in his chest. He nudges a lock of damp hair away from my ear and murmurs, “I could drown in you.”
I’m drowning already. He cradles me, lifts me, but I refuse to be rescued—not this time, not again.
Nina tucked the pen between the pages. The memory overwhelmed her. Thoughts of Julian had tugged at her all day. She hated the way they’d left things—without even a hug goodbye. He hadn’t called all day; it was quiet on all fronts. She would have welcomed anything—a briefly worded text or simply a thumbs-up emoji. Plus, the larger question still loomed. Was she staying or leaving or what? He hadn’t asked. After spending the day with Bettina, would he have a change of heart?
“Good evening, Ms. Taylor.”
Grace arrived, looking more somber than a woman swinging an ice bucket fitted with a glistening bottle of wine had any right to be.
“Your Grace,” Nina said with a little bow. “What do you have for us this evening?”
“A fine prosecco.”
“Perfect.”
Grace set down the bucket and two stemless champagne flutes. Nina wondered if she was always prepared for company or if she was expecting someone in particular. Either way, she accepted a glass of the sparkling wine.
Grace took her glass to her lips, sipped from it and let out a soft sigh. “Qué rico.”
It truly was a rich experience: the warm evening, the wine, the fragrant garden, the mansion gleaming like polished ivory against the darkening sky. “Can you believe this house once belonged to a single family?” Nina said.
