There’s a little part of my brain that’s telling me it’s the latter.
He slows his walk and strolls over to the balustrade that overlooks the ocean. He leans his elbows against it and looks out across the sea.
Even now, scruffy and unkempt, he’s so handsome it hurts.
“So… What’s your plan? You can’t hide out here forever.” I pick a spot next to him and rest my elbows, just far enough away so that we’re not touching one another.
“I’ll go back sometime.”
“How long are they expecting you to be gone?”
“No idea.” His eyes stay focused on the water. “No one knew I was going.”
Something triggers my memory. The photo I saw of him splashed across the cover of a glossy magazine had the words, ‘Where in the world is Beckett Thorn?’ written underneath it.
“Holy shit. You ran away, didn’t you?”
He chuckles. “I’m not a teenager with a curfew, but yeah… I just packed a bag and got on a plane. I didn’t ask anyone for permission.”
I’m about to ask him another question, but he speaks before I can.
“It was all too much. I couldn’t go anywhere without hearing my name screamed, or having to take pictures with people I didn’t know, or sign something. It was exciting for a while, but when you star in a blockbuster like that, your life changes.”
He glances over at me and must feel guilty about what he sees in my expression.
“Don’t look at me with that sad face. It’s not all bad. The world is literally my oyster – I just have to experience it under a microscope. I’ll adjust.”
“I can’t imagine not being able to just walk around out here in the fresh air.”
He takes a big, deep breath and releases it with a whoosh. “I’m doing it right now, aren’t I?”
“I guess so… But you had to cross the globe to do it, and you’re having to deal with me fangirling, so it’s not entirely a win.”
“You’re the kind of fangirl I can appreciate.”
“I only thought about having you sign my boobs once,” I announce proudly.
He turns to face me and his eyes deliberately rake over the neck of my top and across my cleavage.
“I don’t think you should talk about your boobs,” he says, and his voice sounds strained.
“Beckett Thorn, did you just check out my rack?”
He chuckles. “Seriously, it’s just Beck.” He walks past me, his elbow brushing my arm as he goes. “And fair’s fair… you checked out my ass,” he says, his voice caressing my ear.
Touché, superstar, touché.
***
“Alright, speed round,” he announces.
“Huh?” I ask as I slide my bum onto the swing at the empty playground.
He walks behind me and gives my swing a gentle push.
“You tell me something about you and I’ll do the same. We’ll just fire them off one by one.”
“Alright,” I agree quickly, I’m dying to learn more about him – even if it means I have to reveal things about myself. “But you go first.”
I’m swinging back and forth, only going a short way away from him before coming back and being rewarded with his hands pressing against my back again.
“I’m thirty-three.”
I feel my jaw drop. “Noooo. Wikipedia told me you were twenty-eight.”
He chuckles softly behind me and the sound makes me smile. “Wikipedia lied to you.”
“I feel so betrayed.”
“My agent told me that it would be better if I made myself younger. You’re the only person other than my parents and school friends that know about that.”
“I feel so privileged.” I giggle as he pushes me a little bit higher.
“Your turn.”
I think about it for a moment. “I have two sisters.”
“Older or younger?” he asks immediately.
He seems so genuinely interested in things so insignificant, it makes my stomach flutter.
“One of each.”
“Oh shit, you’re the middle child.”
“What’s that meant to mean?” I ask in mock outrage. I try to look back at him, but fail to do so without feeling dizzy.
He laughs and gives me another push. “Nothing.”
I’m not buying it.
“I take it you’re not a middle child yourself?”
“Only child,” he corrects.
“Oh well, that explains a lot,” I tease. “Classic overachiever and all.”
He chuckles as he pushes me again.
It should feel childish to be getting pushed on a swing as a grown woman, and maybe it does a little, but I like it. I can’t wipe the smile from my face.
“I like eating peanut butter with ice cream,” he blurts out.
I grimace. “Ewww. That’s really gross.”
“Have you tried it?”
Hell no.
I don’t answer.
“Didn’t think so,” he says triumphantly.
“You don’t have to try something to know it’ll taste disgusting.”
“Of course you do,” he argues as he swings me even higher again. “How else are you meant to know?”
I’m starting to feel a bit motion sick, but I don’t want him to stop either.
“So, do you like to eat poop?” I question.
“That’s disgusting.”
“Have you tried it?” I say with a smug grin.
He chuckles. “Alright, valid point, well made.”
“I was captain of the debate team,” I reply smugly.
“I was captain of the basketball team.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course you were. Overachiever.”
He just laughs and the warmth of it lights me up inside. I don’t even realise I’m laughing along with him until he comments.
“I like your laugh.”
It dies on my lips as he grabs hold of my swing and catches me mid-air, holding me against him.
“I find you incredibly attractive, Blaire.” He murmurs the words in my ear and sends shivers down my spine. I love the sound of my name falling from his lips in his seductive voice.
Holy shit. He finds me attractive?
“It wasn’t your turn,” I whisper.
Beckett Thorn finds me, plain old Blaire Miller, not just attractive, but incredibly attractive. Lord have mercy – this man is going to send me to an early grave.
He releases my swing, and I fly back through the air with a whoosh.
My stomach gets left behind and now I don’t know if it’s due to the motion or the fact that he’s very clearly hitting on me, but I seriously feel ill.
“Your turn then,” he says, and I can hear the hint of humour in his tone.
“I feel like I’m gonna puke,” I say.
“Huh?” he questions.
“You know, spew…”
He grabs hold of my swing and slows it down instantly. “Shit, sorry. I got carried away.”
I plant my feet on the ground and stay seated for a moment as I try to settle my stomach.
He comes around in front of me and crouches down before me.
It’s better and worse all at the same time. He’s so close I can’t think straight. I can smell the woodsy scent of his cologne and I can see right into those incredible blue eyes.
He reaches out with his hand and brushes his palm against my forehead.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
He shrugs, drops his hand and grins at me. “I have no idea. Checking if you feel hot? That’s what they do in the movies.”
A giggle bubbles up my throat and out of my mouth until I’m full on laughing.
He’s watching me like he’s enjoying what he sees.
He brushes my hair from my face and tucks it behind my ear in a gesture that feels far too intimate for a married woman to be part of with a man that’s not her husband. “Do you still feel like you might blow chunks?” he asks, and just like that, it’s back to being friend
s.
“Ewww.” I give him a light shove on his shoulder. “That was a visual I didn’t need. I bet that’s not what you say to the girls in the movies.”
He shoots me a cheeky grin that gives me yet another round of butterflies, and stands up tall. He holds his hands out for me to take so he can pull me up, and I don’t even think twice about taking them.
He pulls me to my feet and his fingers linger on mine for a few seconds as he looks deep into my eyes, before dropping away… and it sounds stupid, even to me, but I swear that that was a moment just like in the movies.
CHAPTER FIVE
Beckett
“You can’t make me eat that.”
She waves the ridiculous-sized ice cream at me again. “Oh, I can and I will.”
“I’m not doing it,” I argue. “It’s what?” I grab her wrist to look at her watch. “Nine-thirty in the morning. I’m not going to eat that thing this early in the day.”
She stares at me as she takes one long lick of the creamy ice cream, and I swear to god, my dick jumps.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was flirting with me.
She’s married. My brain tells me again, for the hundredth time in the past hour. But truthfully, it doesn’t make me want her any less.
She’s so utterly tempting in those short denim shorts, with her long, golden legs and tiny little waist.
Not only that, but she’s intriguing. There’s so much depth in her big, brown eyes, and I’d give just about anything to find out where those layers might take me.
I know that realistically, I’m not going to get to. I’ve only got right now with her – maybe the rest of the day if I strike it lucky, so I need to make the most of it.
She licks the ice cream again and this time my dick definitely jumps.
Jesus.
“Give me that.” I swipe the cone from her hand and she grins victoriously.
I’m tempted to inform her that her win was caused by my desire not to have a full-on boner in a public place, but I decide that some things are better left unsaid.
I bite the top off the ice cream, and I have to admit it’s really fucking good. They don’t make ice cream like this back home.
“Christ, you’re a savage. You don’t bite it. Give it some tender love and care. Treasure it.”
“It’s an ice cream, Blaire, not a blow job,” I quip as I take another bite.
She blushes and drags her lip through her teeth again. I don’t know if she’s consciously aware she’s doing that, or has any idea of the reaction it stirs up inside of me.
I distract myself with the ice cream and when I look back up, praise the freaking lord, she’s let go of that damn lip.
“So much for Mr. ‘I’m not eating that’,” she says with a raised brow. “It’s not so bad after all, huh?”
Understatement of the century – it’s delicious. I’m devouring this ice cream like I haven’t eaten in days.
I give it one long lick.
“I never have been able to resist using my tongue,” I tell her.
I know I’m being suggestive, but I don’t give a shit. I’m only here for a short time, and I want it to be a good time.
Blaire is undoubtedly a good time.
I watch her drag her eyes away from my mouth and I smirk.
“Do you have to watch what you eat when you’re back home?” she asks as she glances out at the horizon.
I nod. “Can’t eat crap food. I have to work out for hours every day. That body you see in the movies is not without effort. There’s no way I could maintain that all the time.”
Her eyes trail over my t-shirt-covered chest. “I dunno… It still looks pretty good from where I’m standing.”
Now I’m the one with a blush on my cheeks.
I get praised by hundreds of women on a daily basis, and if anything, it’s fucking annoying, but hearing those words from this woman, has quite the opposite effect.
I toss the last of my ice cream into my mouth.
She’s still lazily taking her fill of me, and fuck I can’t handle it.
“You keep looking at me like that and your husband isn’t going to be happy about what happens next,” I warn her.
Her eyes find mine and widen as she comprehends exactly what I’m implying.
“Maybe I should go…”
I grab her wrist as she tries to walk past me and she halts, looking up at me with big wide eyes full of uncertainty.
“Don’t go,” I murmur. “Please.”
Her leaving is the last thing I want to happen. I don’t need many people in my life, but I feel like I need her. Just for a few more hours at least.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
Her eyes trail from my face to where my hand is holding her arm.
She runs her hand over my fingers and up my bare forearm, leaving a trail of goose bumps as she goes.
“I’m playing with fire here, I think we both know that.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, but I hear every word as though my life depends on it.
“I like fire,” I murmur.
“But someone always gets burnt.”
I want so badly to lean in and kiss her, but I know I can’t.
I understand what she’s telling me.
She feels this – whatever this is between us – but she’s not going to act on it, and neither can I. I’ve crossed the line.
I release my hold on her arm.
“I’ll behave,” I promise her. “Just stay.”
Her hand falls from my skin and she sighs. “You’ve really grown accustomed to getting what you want, haven’t you?”
I’m not getting what I want, though. And I have to admit, it’s a bitter pill to swallow.
“I’m a spoilt little rich kid,” I say with a shrug. I’m trying to lighten the mood and it must work because I see the hint of a smile playing on her lips.
“You really are.” She rolls her eyes, and for such a childish gesture, it’s awfully fucking sexy when she does it.
“So where are you taking me next?” I ask – testing the waters and trying my luck.
She doesn’t answer for a few beats, and I can almost physically see her internally debating with herself.
“How do you feel about fish?”
She turns and starts slowly walking back in the direction we came from.
I follow – grateful she’s not still talking about leaving.
“Eating it or catching it?”
“Eating… Although, I could probably take you to try and catch one, if you want?” She grimaces as she asks.
“I’ll pass.” I chuckle. “I’ve never been much of a hunter-gatherer.”
“Oh, thank god. I’m not sure I’d be able to eat one if I had to kill it myself.” She shudders, and I laugh loudly at her obvious distaste for killing things.
She makes me smile. Everything that comes out of her mouth makes a stupid grin spread across my face.
“So, that’s lunch taken care of. But where else can I take you…” She scrunches up her nose as she thinks, and I don’t know what the fuck is happening to me – I’m turning into a total sap because of this woman – but it’s seriously the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
I almost want to meet this Harvey guy she’s married to just to make sure he understands how god damn lucky he is to get to fall asleep next to her every night and wake up beside her every morning. But somehow, I’m not sure that me coming face to face with him would be the best idea.
She’s like no one I’ve met in a long time. She’s real, and there’s not a heap of real left where I come from.
Everyone wants something from me. Even my team – the people I employ – they’re on my team, but there’s always something they need me to do. Always something someone needs from me… but not Blaire. She hasn’t even asked for a picture, and for a self-confessed fan girl, that’s a big deal.
In fact, I think the only thing she does want is to not be attracted to me. It gives me great satisfaction t
hat she’s clearly failing. Even though it’s not going to get me anywhere.
We walk back to where she parked her car in silence, with me resisting the urge to take her hand the entire way.
“Oh! I know where we should go,” she announces proudly, an excited grin on her face.
Just like that, I’m smiling again. Jesus. I’m such a damn fool.
“Get in,” she prompts as she hits the unlock button on her keys.
“People don’t usually tell me what to do,” I goad her, a smirk pulling at my lips.
She raises a brow at me. “I’m not people, now get in the car.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I nod as my grin deepens.
“That damn grin,” she mutters under her breath, just loud enough for me to hear as she climbs into the driver’s side.
I pull my door shut and wait for her to tell me where we’re going.
She does something on her phone before grinning smugly to herself and sitting the bright pink phone down in the centre console.
“You don’t have a phone?” she asks me as she starts the car.
“Nope. Well I do… but I didn’t get roaming, so I can only check my emails if the hotel has Wi-Fi.”
She gives me a look of disbelief. “No calls, no texts?”
I shake my head.
“But what if someone needs you?”
“They’ll live. I’m an actor, not a brain surgeon.”
“You’re funny.”
I want to banter back and tell her she’s beautiful, but I don’t. I don’t want her to drop me off and drive away, so I shut my trap instead.
“I should check my emails tonight actually; my manager is starting to get a bit antsy about me being gone so long. He’s a grumpy old bastard when he’s out of the loop.”
“Does he know where you are?”
“Hasn’t got a clue.”
“Ballsy,” she remarks with a raise of her brows.
I watch the unfamiliar streets go by as she drives us to wherever it is that we’re going next.
“You know what I think is ballsy?” I question her.
“Enlighten me.”.
“You. Do you make a habit of picking up strange men on the street and driving them around?”
Mr. April: A Celebrity Romance (Calendar Boys Book 4) Page 3
