by J. S. Scott
She wasn’t rich.
She wasn’t a movie star.
And she definitely was not an adoring fan.
Kristin worked from early morning until late at night to keep her family afloat. She didn’t have time to think about hot kisses from a movie star. She and Julian might cross paths occasionally, but they were from different universes.
Kristin wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans, resisting an attempt to straighten out her messy ponytail, and wishing she had donned a nice shirt instead of the sweatshirt she was wearing with the Shamrock’s logo.
It doesn’t matter how I look. I’m not out to impress Julian Sinclair.
“Yes, I detoured here for you, and no, I don’t want us photographed. The last thing I want is for you to have to live the way I do.”
He sounded so forlorn that he had Kristin’s attention now. Julian Sinclair had everything a man could ever dream about. He’d been a Sinclair billionaire long before he’d risen to stardom. What could be so bad about that?
“How is your life?” she asked curiously.
“Spent hiding from the press, hunted like a prey animal every time I step out the door. I can never assume I’m alone, because there are cameras everywhere. People break into my homes, and I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve changed my phone number,” he rumbled. “I might get attention, but it isn’t always pleasant.”
“I’d think you’d like that. Well, except for maybe the burglary part. You made it. You’re an A-lister. Everybody wants you.”
“The fame is a part of what I do. I’ve been in the public eye since the day I was born because I’m a Sinclair, but never to this extent. I’d never want you to come under fire by the media. They’re fucking relentless.”
His words made her think about the day he was being pursued by a rabid group of fans. Kristin had taken pity on him that day and helped him get the women off his tail. Maybe it had been the quick flash of vulnerability on his face that had made her help him. He’d reminded her of a fox being pursued by a hungry pack of hounds.
Honestly, she hadn’t been thinking about her quality of life when she had said he wouldn’t want to be connected to her with pictures. She’d been thinking more along the lines that she wasn’t anything like the women she’d seen him photographed with in the past: A-list actresses, supermodels, and other beautiful women in the film business. “Nobody would believe we were dating anyway,” she shot back at him. “In case you haven’t noticed, my hair is bright red and unruly, I have freckles everywhere, and I’m overweight and dumpy. Like I said . . . not your type.”
She wasn’t exactly insecure, but she was realistic. Women like her didn’t go out on dates with men like Julian Sinclair. She was comfortable with the genes she’d inherited, and resigned to the fact that she’d never be model thin. Her body wasn’t built that way.
There was silence in the back of the limo as Julian’s gaze lazily swept over her face and body, his expression revealing nothing. “My dick doesn’t agree, and neither do I,” he countered.
Damn him! He’s trying to disarm me by being outrageous. Does he really think I’ll fall for his bullshit?
“Stop looking at me like that,” she insisted irritably, knowing he was just playing with her. He had to be.
He straightened up and leaned forward, his hands on his rock-hard thighs. “Like what?” he questioned in a low, husky baritone.
Kristin leaned back into her seat to put more distance between them. “Like you find me attractive,” she blurted out. “I don’t like it.”
“It’s not like I’m thrilled about sporting wood every time I see you, Scarlet. But I’m not going to deny that I do.”
She lifted a brow. “Scarlet?”
He shrugged. “You don’t like to be called Red.”
“I’d prefer not to be referred to as a color shade, either,” she told him huffily.
“I don’t exactly like being a hotshot,” he replied, his lips forming a small grin as he looked at her in challenge.
Kristin looked away from him long enough to realize that they were almost to the airport outside of town. Panicked, she put her nose to the glass window to try to see landmarks before turning to him again. “Enough! You have to take me back, Julian. You’ve had your fun.”
His grin got bigger. “We haven’t had any fun yet. But I’m sure you’ll learn how to smile when we get to Vegas.”
“I can’t go to Vegas. I can’t. This joke stops here.” Kristin was starting to become concerned that Julian really was going to get her on his plane, whether she wanted to go or not.
How far did his nonhumorous practical joke go? The situation was so brazenly outrageous that she was starting to feel like she was being punked.
“You’re coming,” he answered arrogantly, leaning back in his seat like he had every right to tell her exactly what to do.
Jesus! Was it possible he was serious? That this really wasn’t all a joke? He looked pretty unrelenting and serious now.
Had Mara really packed her suitcase, with her parents’ cooperation? What if he really did have her things in the trunk?
“This isn’t a joke, is it?”
“I never said it was,” Julian replied calmly. “My oldest brother is getting married, something I thought would never happen. Your friends are all going to be there. Do you really want to stay here in Amesport and miss the chance to see Tessa and Micah get married?”
He was looking at her expectantly, waiting for her answer.
His comment about giving up things she wanted sliced her through her heart. She’d been missing out on things most of her life, and she didn’t regret doing it. But sometimes it did make her feel different, and sometimes it downright hurt.
Her heart started to beat hard against her chest wall, and she licked her lips anxiously as she realized that Julian really was here to pick her up for the wedding.
Her indignation still simmered, but she had calmed down enough to feel her stomach begin to roll.
“I can’t go.”
“Of course you can. Your suitcase is in the trunk, and everything is arranged. Don’t be stubborn, Scarlet. Take a weekend away and enjoy yourself. It’s not going to kill you. How often do you get an all-expenses-paid weekend away?”
The vehicle came to a halt, and Kristin fumbled with the handle to get out.
She didn’t ever get a vacation. It wasn’t the way her life worked. She couldn’t just fly off to Vegas at a moment’s notice. It wasn’t that she didn’t desperately want to go. In fact, she’d come close to giving in to Mara’s persuasion and asking her dad if he could cover Shamrock’s for the weekend. But she knew she was going to have to tend the bar. It wasn’t a good weekend for her to be away.
Besides, there was her other embarrassing problem . . .
She scrambled to get out of the car, but Julian blocked her exit. “You can’t run away now. We’re at the airport.”
Gritting her teeth, she told him angrily, “Let. Me. Out.”
“Kristin? What’s wrong?”
Panicked, she started to claw at the door. “Hurry. Let me out. Please.”
Julian opened the door and got out, grabbing her by the arm and then quickly pulling her from the car.
Kristin gulped for air, oblivious to the cold. “Shit!”
“What the hell is wrong?” Julian asked, sounding confused.
Kristin didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Turning to avoid Julian, she promptly bent over with her hands on her knees and started to vomit.
CHAPTER 3
“Is she comfortable now?”
“I think so,” Julian mumbled into the phone, answering his cousin Dante’s wife, Sarah, who was a physician in Amesport. His cousin and his wife were already in Vegas for Micah’s wedding. Sarah had been the first person he’d called the minute he realized Kristin was sick. “She ate, and she’s had a dose of Dramamine. She says she’s feeling better.”
“Good. We’ll see you soon,” Sarah answered happily. “I’m so gla
d you’re bringing Kristin. She could use a break from Amesport. I tried to convince her. We all did. You must be more persuasive than we are.”
Julian couldn’t help but feel remorseful as he thought about how Kristin had looked sitting in the airplane seat after he’d carried her on board. She’d been pale and weak, her usual spunky attitude gone, which he’d actually missed. Seeing her sick and defeated had eaten at him. After he’d fed her, she’d slunk away quietly with her suitcase to clean up. Shit! Maybe she had gained some color after eating and taking some medication. Maybe she wasn’t puking her guts out anymore, but he still felt like an ass. How in the hell could he have known that she suffered from motion sickness? He’d never traveled with her before.
Why hadn’t she said anything as soon as they’d gotten in the car?
“Is it safe? I mean, will she get sick again?” he asked, not wanting to miss anything that would help Kristin to feel better.
“I doubt it,” Sarah replied, talking louder because of the casino background noise. “Make sure she keeps getting small meals with lots of protein, and give her two more tablets in four hours. It’s a long flight.”
Julian knew it would take more than four hours for them to land in Vegas. “Okay. Anything else?” he asked anxiously.
“That’s it. She’ll be fine, Julian. You sound stressed. Motion sickness isn’t fatal. If she’s feeling better, you can get going.”
Easy for Sarah to say. She was a damned physician. Julian had never felt so helpless as he’d stood and supported Kristin’s limp body while she’d been throwing up, continuing to heave even after she’d emptied what little was in her stomach.
He and Sarah hung up after he’d gotten the itinerary for the wedding plans the next day.
Impatiently, he drummed his fingers on the wood table in front of him, watching the door to the bedroom after he’d given the pilot permission to start rolling.
Where in the hell is she? What if she’s sick again?
He rose and strode to the back of his private jet where the bedroom was, wondering if he should knock on the bathroom door.
Glancing around the bedroom, he saw Kristin’s suitcase on the bed, open and obviously searched through for something to wear.
He grinned as he looked around the plush interior of the jet. He’d resisted getting his own air transportation for years, wanting to use as little money as possible to work his way to the top of his field. Julian had wanted to make it on his own, never using the Sinclair dynasty to propel him to the top. He’d lived in a small, crappy apartment, paying his dues in Hollywood and making a living however he could until he clawed his way up the ladder.
There was a certain satisfaction in knowing that almost no one in Hollywood had known he was related to the billionaire Sinclair family and that he was actually obscenely wealthy himself. Sinclair was a common last name, and nobody had ever asked. Very few of his closest friends had even known, and the few who did hadn’t outed him. Julian had struggled right along with them as he’d built a career like a normal person, brick by brick, year by year, getting a little bit closer to a starring role in a movie by playing any role he could get.
When he’d finally reached the pinnacle he’d always dreamed about as a kid, his identity had inevitably been discovered. And when he finally decided to spend some of his money, he hadn’t spared any cost in getting the best private jet money could buy. Not spending and just investing had made Julian even richer, and he had more money than he could spend in several lifetimes. He commanded a very high price for his films now, too, and he’d earned that money on his own talent.
Having done without for over a decade had made him realize how little he really needed, but he had enjoyed spending it on a few toys after his real identity was revealed. His jet had been his ultimate splurge. If he was going to travel like he did, comfort was a priority.
His bedroom and bathroom might not be enormous, but they were loaded with every necessity a person required to travel long distances comfortably.
Frowning as he heard Kristin fumbling with the doorknob, he moved forward and almost ran into her as she exited the bathroom.
Moving back to survey her face, Julian could tell she was feeling better. She was dressed in a fresh pair of jeans and a green sweater that made her damp hair brighter and sexier than he’d ever seen her before. Hell, not that it mattered. His cock was instantly hard no matter what she was wearing.
He remembered that she’d referred to herself as overweight, which was far from reality. Kristin had a curvy body, a small waist, and a nice, full ass that had left him stroking himself off more than once to thoughts of having his hands all over every one of her naked curves as he brought her to a screaming climax that she’d never forget.
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly as he stared down into a pair of emerald eyes that made his gut ache.
“Yeah. I think so,” she answered, moving around him to close her suitcase.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, feeling even worse as he looked at her mortified expression. “I didn’t know you had motion sickness.”
Looking away from him, she admitted, “I’ve had it since I was a kid. My mom finally started to let me ride up front and it got better. If I’m driving, I’m fine. If I’m sitting in the front seat, I’m fine. But put me in the back of a car where I can’t see where I’m going, and I’ll be throwing up by the end of the ride.”
“Is that why you didn’t want to go to Vegas?” He took her by the hand and led her to a plush cream seat across from him at the dining area, not liking the fact that she’d stopped arguing with him. That meant she still wasn’t herself.
“Partly,” she confessed, putting her palms flat on the table as the plane started to move. “We’re leaving?” she squeaked.
He nodded. “Fasten your seat belt.”
He’d let her face the front, his back to the nose of the plane.
“Julian, this is crazy.”
He smiled, knowing she was getting her spunk back again. “Then let’s be crazy, Scarlet. Run away with me for a few days. Let’s go to Micah and Tessa’s wedding and have a good time in Vegas. You have to be back for work on Monday, and I have to leave to shoot on location. In the meantime, let’s just relax. Everything is taken care of, and you have no reason not to go.”
He watched as she chewed on her bottom lip, obviously thinking about the alternatives. “Then you get your way. I hate that. I have a feeling you get what you want way too often.”
“Hardly ever,” he lied, standing to fasten her seat belt and then sitting down across from her again and buckling up himself.
“Why are you really doing this? Maine is a long way out of your way to pick up a wedding guest.”
He shrugged. “Maybe I never stopped thinking about that sexy kiss you gave me.”
Her face flushed as she answered, “I gave you? You kissed me, remember?”
Shaking his head, he replied, “I distinctly remember you throwing yourself at me, Scarlet.”
Honestly, he’d been fucking desperate, and he’d been tempted to pin her to the bar and nail her on the spot. Unfortunately, that hadn’t been possible. Maybe she hadn’t initiated that kiss, but she’d responded. Her hot capitulation, and then her eager participation, had made him damn near crazy.
“You wish,” she snapped back.
“Yeah, actually, I do.”
Kristin sighed. “Does Hollywood make you feel like you have to flirt with every woman you meet? We used to just fight.”
“Foreplay,” he answered with a grin.
“Pervert,” she replied with a little less rancor.
“Truce, Kristin? For just a few days? Micah and Tessa will only have one wedding day.”
She crossed her arms and glared at him, but her lips were starting to twitch, and Julian was gratified to see her slowly softening. “Why should I stop fighting with you after what you did?”
“Because I’ve seen you puke? We have to be friends after that. I even held bac
k your hair for you.”
“It was in a ponytail.”
Okay . . . it had been, but he’d held back the loose strands for her. Didn’t that count? “I tried. Truce?” he asked again.
She was trying not to laugh, and that made Julian glad that he’d bullied her just a little. Kristin had always had a sense of humor, dry and sarcastic as it might be at times.
She twirled a damp lock of hair with her fingers. “I’ll think about it.”
After he felt the plane lift off, he grumbled, “Think harder.”
Christ! He was sporting a seriously hard dick watching her twirl her curly hair around her finger. All Julian could think about was seeing that fiery mass spread across a pristine white pillow while he pounded into her until he was sated.
She laughed. Not one of the coy giggles he was used to, but a sexy, throaty sound that made him instantly harder.
“I’m not sure I want to be friends with you. You’re arrogant, bossy, high-handed, and always determined to get your own way,” she mused.
“You’ve never gotten to know my nicer side,” he argued, starting to wonder if he’d want to be friends with himself. Maybe he was a prick. But there was something about Kristin that made him want to be a better man.
She formed an expression of mock surprise. “You mean you have a nicer side?” She chewed on her lip as though she was trying to find something good to say. “You are a good tipper,” she said helpfully.
He remembered the night he’d left her an outrageously large tip when he’d been in Shamrock’s with Micah, helping his cousin Evan to get through his broken heart.
“I never thanked you for that,” she said softly. “It came at a time when I really needed it.”
Her words were sincere, and Julian swallowed hard, wishing he’d left another few thousand. The thought of his proud Kristin ever hurting for anything made him majorly pissed off. “You’re welcome,” he acknowledged simply. “So are we calling a cease-fire for now?”
“It won’t last,” she warned.
“Why?”
“Because you’ll do something else to piss me off.” She laid her palms back on the table as the jet started to climb.
