First Touch

by Laurelin Paige

  “Find the thing that makes him notice you and put all your attention there.” She smacked her glossed lips together and then turned her focus to me. “If he’s only interested in your ass, wear a pair of tight jeans and you’re done. He won’t care what’s on your face if he’s only looking at it until he can get a peek at your behind.”

  She’d been seventeen when we met. Vibrant, beautiful, daring. Wise, I’d thought. Aware in ways that I wasn’t. I didn’t know yet that the uncle she visited on the weekends wasn’t a blood relative or that his gifts were what she lived on. I didn’t know that the reason she’d turned up in my life, the reason she’d moved onto the couch of the dealer next door was because she’d run away from home, from the man who’d taken her virginity at the age of nine – her father. I only knew that she’d shown up in my dull, lackluster, impoverished world and she’d glistened. I was fascinated with her instantly. Awestruck. Enamored. Fuck, I was practically in love. I would have followed her anywhere.

  And I had. I’d followed her everywhere, through everything. Until, I couldn’t anymore.

  I blinked my eyes, dismissing the memory before the guilt started to taste sour in my mouth. Not for the first time, I wondered if the clarity of my recollection of Amber meant that she was no longer in this world. If she was… gone – I couldn’t bear to think the actual “d” word – then I would expect her to haunt me. She was good at that in life, how could she not be in the after?

  Her pseudo presence was a double-edged sword. It both helped and distracted. Reminded and ridiculed. I needed her because she’d created the person I was before, the person I needed to be now. I just couldn’t let those thoughts overwhelm me. Couldn’t let her overwhelm me. Not again.

  I cringed as I spoke to the air – spoke to her. “I’m sure you’re going to be with me a lot, Amber. But you’ve got to give me my space.” I caught my eye in the mirror and shook my head. “Now I’m talking to invisible friends. Twenty-nine is a fine age to go crazy, isn’t it?” It would be funnier if mental disorders weren’t in my genetics.

  At least I knew what I was doing about my lids.

  Sighing, I reached for a makeup remover towelette and wiped away the shadow and liner from the more sultry eye. Reeve had already shown himself to be a tits man. The seductive eyes were overkill as long as I wore the right clothes. Which I would.

  I finished up my look with a very subtle blush and a pale lipstick before stepping into my dress. I’d told Reeve earlier that I had the perfect outfit in mind for our date, but it was a lie, and not the first that I’d told him. I’d figured out enough about him to know just what would be perfect. A few hours spent at the outlets and I’d found it – a simple peach A-line that hit low thigh. With its full skirt, it looked more flirty than slutty except where the neckline dipped at my bosom. It wasn’t a very low plunge, but it didn’t take much to make my breasts stand out, which was the goal. It had been a carefully thought-out purchase, yet it was plain enough that it seemed it might be something I’d plucked from my closet.

  After I had it on, I checked myself once more in the mirror. My hair was tied up in a casual knot, my lips done in a long-lasting matte, and my skirt moved easily. I looked casual and chic, but I was one hundred percent dressed for sex.

  Shoulders back, Amber’s memory whispered at my ear. You look good. He’ll be putty in your hands.

  “I hope so,” I said out loud again. “For your sake.” Whether I was talking to my reflection this time or the memory that clung to me in recent weeks, I wasn’t sure.

  Although the Sallis Palm Springs Paradise Resort boasted over 250 acres, it was only a five-minute walk to the Cherry Lounge from my suite. I left early so that I could take my time getting there. Still, when I arrived, my forehead was damp and my heart rate elevated – but it was just as likely that was from nerves as it was from the activity. At the door, I paused at the sign that read CLOSED FOR PRIVATE ENGAGEMENT wondering if I should knock or just walk in. Not wanting to appear tentative, I settled on the latter. I wiped my brow with my palm, took a deep breath, and tried the handle. It turned.

  As soon as I stepped inside, I was greeted by one of the henchmen that always seemed to accompany Reeve Sallis. They appeared in several pictures that I’d seen of him when I’d scoured the Internet for any bit of information I could find on the man. This particular guard was tall and serious. Hard. The edge of a dragon tattoo snaked up his neck from under the collar of his dress shirt and there were two noticeable scars that decorated his face. His dark suit jacket was tight enough that I could make out the bulge of his holster at his hip. An earpiece dangled from his ear like jewelry, but I imagined the device networked him with all the other Sallis minions.

  “That way, Ms. Wayborn,” he said without any welcome in his voice, gesturing across the restaurant. “Mr. Sallis has asked for dinner to be served on the outdoor patio.”

  I nodded, then set off in the direction he’d indicated. That had been yet another of Amber’s lessons. “You have to set yourself apart from the help. You have to show that you’re different. That you’re worth more than the people who scrub the floors and cook the food and drive the cars.”

  And wear the guns, I added silently to myself now. Bodyguards weren’t new to me. They were a staple among the rich, paranoid men who’d supported my earlier life. Most security had been just for show, though, while the man behind me had definitely seen action. I snuck a peek back over my shoulder at him. He was watching me, as I’d figured he would be, but he glared, harsh and menacing. As though he’d decided I was an enemy. I was – but could he know?

  My chest tightened at the panicked thought that I might be walking into some sort of trap. The man I’d just left could shoot me in the back several times before I even registered the first shot.

  Even if it wasn’t too late, even if I was walking into a trap, I was determined to see this through. I hugged my arms around myself and turned my focus back toward the patio. Not that the man I was about to meet was any less frightening. In fact, he was definitively more so. Why that thought sent butterflies scattering in my stomach, I had no idea.

  Nerves. Just nerves.

  The backside of the restaurant was a wall of windows and I could see as I approached that the outdoor dining space was corralled by another wall of glass. Beyond, the last hints of the sun tinted the sky above the mountains and the city cradled in the valley below was lit for the night. A fire blazed in a large pit, keeping the dark at bay and pinning my attention to its vibrant reflection in the glass behind it. I was out the doors and halfway to the burning beacon before I noticed Reeve standing to the side, looking out over the view.

  My steps stilled while I took him in. I was exponentially grateful that he hadn’t noticed me so that I could catch my breath privately. Because all air had left my lungs at the sight of him. He stood at an angle, and the profile view enunciated the strength of his jaw and the sharpness of his bones. His hands were buried in his pants pockets causing his jacket to hug the sculpted shape of his swimmer’s ass. Even like that – his features half-hidden, his body buried underneath the pale gray suit he wore – he was captivating.

  I studied him. Light from the fire danced shadows across his cheek, the effect haunting. Not haunting – haunted. My thoughts started to spin. Did Amber cling to him like she clung to me?

  Without turning, he spoke, surprising me. “Are you going to join me or do you prefer skulking in the background?”

  A smile pressed at the line of my mouth. Of course he’d know I was there. Ignoring the lingering tickle of stage fright, I started toward him. Showtime.

  “I’m joining you,” I said with the confident voice of the character I was playing. “I just got distracted with the view.”

  He shifted in my direction, and I was sure to keep my focus on him so that he’d know that he was the view I’d been talking about. Then our eyes caught. My breath hitched as a shock of electricity jolted down my spine. The slight lift of his brows told me he fel
t it too and that knowledge sent a flood of warmth rushing through me. It had been such a long time since I’d been so entirely attracted to a man. So long that I’d forgotten what it felt like, how consuming it could be. How confusing. How comforting.

  It perplexed me. I was an actress and surrounded by beautiful faces and perfectly toned bodies, yet not a one of them had the effect that Reeve Sallis had on me. There was irony in it, I was sure. A sick play from karma.

  Or maybe it was all in my head. Maybe it was Amber in my head – my interest in the man simply transference of what she’d felt for him. Perhaps her emotions had stained mine the way a restless spirit stained the cherished places it had left behind. Despite its basis in the paranormal – despite how crazy it might make me – that was the most comfortable explanation I could come up with, and I went with it.

  But then he said my name. And the sound of it – “Emily,” rough and sinful on his tongue – branded me. I was Emily Wayborn, formerly Emily Barnes, and no one else. There was no space for Amber in the syllables he uttered.

  He appraised me, his look smoldering. “You look fantastic.”

  My heartbeat ticked up a notch at the compliment, but I still recognized his odd inflection. “You sound surprised.”

  A smile slid across his lips as he closed the distance between us. “I didn’t think you could look more attractive without wearing less. I was wrong.” His tone said that he’d given this thought. That he’d thought about me wearing… less.

  Goose bumps perked up on my skin while contradicting heat ignited in my belly. “I’m flattered.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He put a firm hand on my elbow and leaned in toward my ear. “Let’s not start out with lies between us, Emily.”

  My muscles went rigid and my pulse sped up for a different reason than it had a moment before. “I don’t know what you —”

  He cut me off. “You know you’re attractive. Own it.”

  I smiled, the knot under my shoulder relaxing. “Beauty is subjective, Reeve. Yes, I’m aware that many people find my looks appealing. I work hard to make sure they do. It doesn’t mean that you will. I’m honestly flattered to hear that you do.”

  He pulled away, but his grip remained. “I do. You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

  It was a moment of victory that felt much more like relief. All of this, my whole charade, depended on Reeve’s attraction to me. Though I’d felt confident after our morning exchange, the hours in between had given me time to doubt.

  A waiter appeared seemingly out of nowhere with a wine service cart. There were two glasses already filled with a light liquid. Reeve acknowledged his servant with only a dismissive nod, and the waiter retreated immediately. Reeve released my arm and picked up a glass. “I thought a Meursault Chardonnay would be appropriate.” He held it out for me.

  I paused. Five years ago I would have taken it without a second thought, but my current self was cautious and worried about accepting a drink that I hadn’t seen poured. From what I’d gathered about Reeve during our few interactions, he was cautious and controlling. He would want to sample his wine before accepting it. So why had it been poured before? Paranoia began to creep in.

  He caught my hesitation. “We’re having salmon. I assure you it pairs well. Or is there something else wrong?”

  I couldn’t improv fast enough so I settled for a bit of honesty. “I was trying to decide if you’d be the type to roofie me.”

  He studied me with a flat look and searing eyes. “Now, Emily. We both know that drugging you wouldn’t be necessary to get you in my bed.” He seemed pleased by the flush that spread across my cheeks. “But I’d be happy to switch glasses, if you prefer.”

  With a shaky hand, I took the one he’d first offered. “No. This will be fine.”

  He chuckled. “Come. Our first course is waiting for us.”

  He escorted me to the lone table set in the space. The pressure of his hand on my arm wasn’t threatening this time – it was warm. Solid. Comforting.

  Careful, he could still be a dangerous man. Even if your panties are starting to soak.

  It wasn’t Amber’s voice behind the warning; it was mine. Still, I thought of her as Reeve helped me with my chair. Thought of her as he took his seat across from me. Thought of her as I placed my napkin in my lap and took a bite of the salad that was waiting on the table. I let her become heavy in my mind, a dark moon eclipsing any light of desire that Reeve kindled. With that and another few sips of my wine, my nerves settled and the only warmth I felt was from the fire at my side and the alcohol in my veins.

  We finished our salads without speaking. When he was done, Reeve pushed his plate to the side. Immediately, three waiters descended upon us. One refilled our wine, one took our plates, and the last replaced them with our main course – an herb-encrusted salmon fillet on a bed of rice. Silently, they retreated again.

  They continued to watch us. Our every move carefully observed. They’d probably seen a lot in their time working for Reeve. I made a note that they could help me find answers though I would need to build their trust first. People who worked this closely to Reeve Sallis would not divulge secrets easily. If at all.

  Still, they could be a backup plan.

  When my focus returned to my date, I realized he’d been watching me. “Your staff is well trained,” I said.

  “Very.”

  “It’s admirable.” I took a bite of my dinner, hoping that would change the subject. Reeve continued to watch. “Mmm,” I said letting the sound reverberate in my throat as fish melted on my tongue. It was actually quite delicious even if I didn’t have much of an appetite.

  Reeve held his study for another long minute before picking up his own fork. “Tell me about yourself, Emily Wayborn.” He said my name as if holding it out to examine. Or as if he didn’t really believe it was mine.

  “Emily Barnes, originally,” I offered. He’d learn that easily enough on his own from one look at my Wikipedia page.

  “Why did you change it?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. It seemed everyone in Hollywood had a nom de plume so why not me? Barnes is so flat and unattractive.” And I’d thought that a new name would make it easier to disappear from my old life. Not that anyone would have come looking. Amber had been the only one who cared, and she’d told me with absolute conviction that she wouldn’t be following after.

  “I suppose Emily Wayborn does flow better off the tongue. What else?” As he ate, he kept his eyes on me, his focus intent.

  “About me? What do you want to know?” It was an expected conversation for a first date and for that reason it should have been easy. But I’d been with plenty of men who didn’t care to know anything about me other than whether I was on birth control or not. If that was really what Reeve was looking for, it was best to just skip to the point.

  He shrugged. “The interesting things. The things I can’t learn from Google.”

  “Did you already do a search? Or are you planning to later on?” I presumed that a whole background check had been done on me before I was allowed on the premises.

  He leaned forward as if he were sharing a secret. “I’ll never tell.” He took a swallow of his wine then grinned guiltily. “Okay, I already searched. I don’t dine with just anyone. Don’t let it go to your head.”

  The idea of Reeve Sallis Googling anything himself, instead of having someone do it for him, made me smile. Plus, he’d dropped the wariness that had accompanied the start of his questioning and, even while I kept my attraction at bay, I much preferred the flirtatious banter.

  “Well, then. You’re already an expert,” I teased.

  “I’m not. Tell me.” His eyes were light, but his tone authoritative, and the simple two-word command shuddered through me.

  “Okay.” I dabbed my napkin at my mouth. “I’m an only child. Born in Fresno. Grew up in Bakersfield. My father ran off when I was in elementary school. My mother was – is,
I mean – not well, mentally. She functioned well enough when I was growing up, but just barely. My childhood was average. I got average grades. College was out of my price range and, honestly, I wasn’t interested. So I started modeling, which turned to commercial acting, and then NextGen was my big break.” It was all true. For the same reasons I’d decided to use my real name, I’d decided to use my real backstory. I expected Reeve to dig, and with as much power as he had, I knew he’d find out what he wanted to about me. The trick, then, was to tell him enough of the truth that he didn’t feel like he needed to dig much further.

  He nodded a few times as I spoke, as if confirming each piece of information before he filed it away. Much like I would with anything he shared with me. I had my reasons to be cataloging; I wondered what his were.

  He’s cautious, I told myself. He’s a man with enemies. He has to ask questions. You got this.

  “What else…” I bit my lip as I thought of how to cap my self-summary. “I’m here at the resort by myself for a much-needed rest before we start shooting again the second week of January. Oh, and I’m a natural blonde.”

  His brow rose. “There are ways to verify that, you know.”

  A hum began between my legs. “Are there? Tell me more about that.”

  “Maybe later.” The darkness in his eyes said he was definitely considering it.

  Good.

  Or not good. I was torn on the issue. If I didn’t have to have sex with him to find out what I wanted to know, the better off I was. Right? It just wasn’t really likely that I could get as close as I needed without getting him off. In which case, good that he was considering it. And good that my body seemed to be into that. Because it would make it easier, of course.

  The talking was essential though, too. Maybe even more than sex. Reeve would never let me into his life if he didn’t trust me. I needed to seem transparent. Step one in the Find-A-Man game that Amber and I had played was how to appear vulnerable. Men liked vulnerable women. Rich men paid a lot to fuck vulnerable women. Paid a lot to the vulnerable women they fucked.