Bare
A Hollywood Romance
Sarah Robinson
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
After Bare
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Excerpt from Breaking a Legend
Prologue
Chapter 1
About the Author
Also by Sarah Robinson
Bare © 2018, Sarah Robinson
Editing by Katherine Tate, Author and Editor
Cover Design by Marianne Nowicki at PremadeEbookCoverShop.com
Represented by Literary Agent Nicole Resciniti, The Seymour Agency
Copyright © 2018 by Sarah Robinson
All rights reserved. This document may not be reproduced in any way without the expressed written consent of the author. The ideas, characters, and situations presented in this story are strictly fictional and any unintentional likeness to real people or real situations is completely coincidental. Any mention of trademarked brands is not meant as copyright infringement.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to others. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please delete and support the author by purchasing the book from one of its many distributors. If you cannot afford to do so, please check your local library where you can request they carry a copy at no cost to you. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is suggested for 18+ years of age due to sexually explicit content.
ISBN: 978-0-9904732-9-9
To anyone who has ever lost their dream
and fought like hell to earn it back.
Chapter One
"I quit." Reed Scott's agent looked at him and tossed the tabloid magazine in his face. "Literally. I fucking quit."
Reed slumped farther down in the plush arm chair in the agency's office. "Jason, I already apologized. What more do you want? It's not like I asked to be followed around L.A. every goddamn second of my life."
His agent's claims of quitting were something he'd heard a dozen times before, but that didn't stop the guilt from getting to him. He liked his agent, in fact, they were pretty good friends. Making his job even harder certainly wasn't what Reed wanted, and yet, he couldn't seem to help himself. The paparazzi were everywhere, even when he was sure that he was alone. They always seemed to find a way to catch him on tape.
"Bad Boy Reed Scott Caught Licking Tequila Off Stripper's Stomach," Jason read the headline on the front of the tabloid out loud. "Oh, or what about this one? Party Animal Reed Scott Has A Sleepover—In a Sorority! I mean, are you trying to give me a heart attack? Are you trying to sleep your way through all of L.A?"
Reed scoffed, rolling his eyes. He hadn't slept with the entire sorority, for Christ's sake. They just picked the most salacious headlines to sell their stupid tabloids. Hell, ninety percent of the things they reported about him, he'd never even done. It was the few photos that they managed to get that fucked him over. "Well, what's the plan? Isn't there something we can do to get them to pull the articles?"
"This isn't a TV show, Reed. I can't just wish away your scandals in sixty minutes or less." Jason finally sat down in the leather chair behind his large mahogany desk. "We need damage control. We need PR. We need an entirely new brand."
"All right." He knew the drill on that one. Half his career had been fucking up and the other half had been fixing the first half. "Kiss some babies? Donate some money to charity?"
Jason shook his head. "Not even close to enough. With this new moving coming up, we're going to need to drastically change your image. Break Down is a romantic dance film. That means it's geared toward teens and young girls who want to see a heartthrob—not someone who stuck his dick in all their friends."
Reed grimaced at the comparison. His agent was definitely exaggerating heavily, but there was some truth to the fact that he had spent the majority of his career enjoying the perks of fame. Hitting it big on a small film out of college that blew up into a box-office smash, Reed's acting career had been skyrocketing ever since.
With fame and money came women. It had been hard to resist the attention, and even harder to resist all the gorgeous women who had thrown themselves at him. Sure, he'd turned down plenty, but he'd said yes to plenty more. None of them lasted more than a few dates, though. He'd tried—seriously tried—to put in the time and effort to find a lasting relationship, but every time he found someone he thought might be the girl to help him forget…forget her…he went running the other direction.
As much as he wanted to forget the woman he'd fallen in love with over a decade ago, he couldn't…and if he was being honest, maybe he didn't want to forget her at all. So, the other women? They were just Band-Aids, holding him together because losing her had already broken him apart.
And knowing it was all his fault? That was something he'd never forgive himself for.
"The first thing you can do? Put your dick back in your pants. No more women." Jason pulled out a legal pad and began scribbling on it. "I'm going to call some publicists, see what we can do about getting you in front of the lens in a positive way. Probably a few photo shoots, some lunches with clean-cut celebs, a few appearances at charity functions. We need to rebrand your image—who you are."
Who I am? Good luck, because Reed wasn't even sure what the answer to that one was. "Fine. Whatever we need to do."
Despite his propensity for enjoying the finer things in life, Reed was one of the hardest working actors in Hollywood, and he had zero plans on changing that now. If he needed to fix his shit, he was going to fix his shit. This movie was important, and he was going to put everything he had into it. Acting wasn't just a career for him, but an art form. It was something he'd been passionate about his whole life, from being in plays and productions in high school, to starring in indie films in college. He'd spent years honing his craft, and while he might act like a dick off set every once in a while, when those lights came on, he was pure professional.
"But while I'm working on this—you're cleaning up your act. Get to set, practice every fucking minute of the day, and stay away from booze, parties, and women." Jason pointed a finger at him. "Got it?"
"Christ, you sound like my father or something." The irritation in Reed's voice was barely masked. They were friends, but, damn, how many lectures did he really need? Were a few nights partying really that big a deal? At least he wasn't a drug addict or into some of the other heavy shit he'd seen actors lose themselves to. "I understood you the first time. I'm going to the set right after here, so I'm sure I'll be plenty busy."
Understatement of the year. He still couldn't believe he'd been cast on a film completely centered around dance. That wasn't his background
or expertise at all, and yet, somehow, he was going to have to dazzle women with sexy choreography.
"Fuck this up, and I swear I'm going to quit," Jason reminded him for the zillionth time. Honestly, Reed wasn't sure why he hadn't just quit by now. "Get the hell out of my office and go make us some money."
Reed laughed at that one, mainly because that was the only reason he'd agreed to sign on to a film where he'd have to learn to dance. The pay was phenomenal, and while he loved acting for its craft, there was no doubt that he loved those seven-figure checks just as much.
A few minutes later, he was climbing into his Lexus and heading for the studio where he'd be spending most of the next three months filming Break Down. A young production assistant met him at the gate. She gave him a tour of the lot, and then finally showed him to his trailer near the main set. It was even nicer than his contract had specified, and basically felt like a small luxury apartment.
She giggled when she showed him the bedroom to the back of the trailer, running her hand against the mattress cover. "It's really soft. We made sure of that for you."
"Thanks," he said, not blind to the fact that her eyes were raking over his body like he was someone she wanted to devour. No women. He'd promised his agent that literally less than an hour ago. "What time do I report to set?"
The production assistant lifted her clipboard and examined her notes. "Thirty minutes. Is there anything I can get you in the meantime? I'll be your go-to for anything you need." Her flirty smile returned. "Seriously, anything you need…I can do."
Reed nodded his head. "I appreciate it, but I'll be fine. I think I'm going to walk around set for a bit, get a feel for the place."
"Okay," she replied, looking a bit disappointed. "I'm one call away if you need me." With that, she left him alone in the trailer.
Heading back to the bedroom, he examined the drawers and realized they were already filled with his clothes and personal items. Picking out a black T-shirt that showcased his perfectly defined arms and chest, Reed changed into that and a pair of jeans before walking back out onto the set.
"Reed!"
He turned his head to see the director calling him over. "Hey," he greeted him, shaking his hand when he got closer. "How are you, Mario?"
Mario Cruz, the director for Break Down, smiled at a him. "Good. Good to see you here. You all settled into your trailer?"
"Yeah. It's gorgeous."
Mario looked relieved. "Fantastic." A young woman in bright blue leggings was walking past, and Mario flagged her down. "Have you met Taylor? She's our second female lead. Plays Alexandra, and she's a fantastic dancer."
"Nice to meet you," Reed said, offering his hand.
She shook it. "You, too! Have you met Elena yet? She's your lead."
"I have," he replied. "We met during initial contracts."
Taylor smiled, sweet and friendly and nothing at all like the other women he'd run into today who’d acted like they wanted to eat him alive. "Great! Well, I have to run. My wife is waiting for me."
Reed smiled, glad he would be working with such a friendly cast. "See you later."
"Hey, I want you to meet someone else," Mario announced, turning and waving at another woman a few dozen feet away. "Hey, Teagan! Come meet Reed!"
The woman turned to face them, her thick, light brown hair falling over her shoulder as her dark brown eyes found his. Her eyes widened, her full lips parting in surprise…and then, anger? She knit her brow and set her jaw, and Reed realized who he was looking at.
His stomach fell, his shoulders tightening as the lithe young woman walked over to them.
"Reed Scott," she called him by his full name when she got closer. "We've met."
He had no idea what to say to the woman he'd been thinking about every day for over a decade. "Teagan…"
"You two already know each other?" Mario asked, squeezing his shoulder. "Well, good. That'll make it even easier to work together. Teagan is our set choreographer and she'll be working with you every morning before filming starts to learn the moves for that day."
Easier. It would be anything but. Not to mention the fact that Teagan was looking at him like she wanted to murder him. He deserved it, that was for sure, but it didn't make it any easier to see hate in the eyes of the woman he'd once loved.
"I look forward to it, though, I'm not the greatest dancer," he admitted, trying to break the ice. "You'll have your work cut out for you."
She lifted one brow, crossing her arms over her chest. "I think I'll manage."
The way she stood, all her weight resting on one athletically toned leg and her hip jutting out. It was full of personality and every bit the Teagan he remembered. The years hadn't done a thing to her beauty, and the fire in her eyes only seemed to make her more attractive. She was wearing a tight gray leotard over an even tighter pair of black leggings.
She'd always been a dancer, even back when they'd first dated, she'd been headed for fame and fortune with her skills. He'd never followed her career, or even looked her up, since they'd parted ways. He couldn't; it had been too painful to even think of her. But, he was a bit surprised to see her on set as a choreographer. He'd always pictured her on a stage, or starring in a film just like this one. She'd had the talent for it.
"Well, I'm ready to get started when you are," he offered.
"Great! Glad you two are hitting it off." Mario gave them both a pat on the back and then walked away.
Teagan nodded her head slowly, as if evaluating Reed's sincerity. "Tomorrow morning. Six o’clock. Studio B off the back lot."
"I'll be there." Reed paused for a moment, running his tongue across his bottom lip. "Hey, Teagan?"
"Hmm?" She let her arms drop to her sides, and for a moment, she looked vulnerable, like the Teagan he'd once known—the one who didn't hate him.
"I'm happy to see you again." He let his gaze dip to her lips, the way she nibbled on the edge when she was nervous. He remembered everything about her, about the way she moved, the way she loved. “Really happy."
"Well, at least one of us is." And with that, she walked away.
Chapter Two
Am I cursed? Teagan stared at herself in the mirror of her small apartment bathroom. She felt cursed. Reed-Scott-freaking-cursed.
Life certainly hadn't handed her the easiest go, and now, just when she'd thought things were finally turning around because she'd landed a fantastic job as a film choreographer, fate was still proving it had other plans for her. This job was supposed to be her big break—well, break-ish. Sure, it wasn’t what she'd wanted out of her life, but her dreams were no longer an option.
And this job? Most people would kill for it. So, she was choosing to be grateful.
She had to choose to be grateful a lot, actually. If she didn't, then life would have gotten the better of her years ago. Teagan glanced down at her legs, tracing a finger across the long scar that stretched from her knee to her hip. She tried to hide it under leggings and skirts, but it wasn’t always possible.
When she'd almost died in a car accident at the age of twenty-one, she'd thought she'd never walk again. Hell, the doctors had told her exactly that. And dancing? That was an impossibility.
The years and years she'd spent training to become a professional dancer had all been wiped away in less time than it took for that car to slam hers into a ditch. Despite the doctor's predictions that her wheelchair would become a permanent fixture, though, she'd proved them all wrong. She'd spent years learning to walk, and then dance, again. Sure, she'd probably never have the agility to become the famous dancer she'd always dreamed of being, but she could at least teach. And with that, she'd found a way to keep doing what she loved…even if it was not exactly what she loved.
So, she chose to be grateful.
But seeing Reed Scott again? The man who made her believe in everlasting, soul-deep, earth shattering love and then left her standing alone at the altar on their wedding day? The man who had left her just to star in a movie that would
make him famous?
She was not grateful for that—or for him—one bit.
Teagan finished putting on the last touches of her makeup then changed into a new pair of leggings and a leotard. Glancing one last time in the mirror, she fluffed out her wavy brown hair nervously. As much as she might hate him, she found herself wanting to look her best for him anyway. Make him eat his heart out. Make him regret ever leaving her like that in the first place.
She swallowed, trying to push away her frustration. That didn’t seem possible right now, though. Sighing, Teagan grabbed her car keys off the small table by her front door and gave one last glance around the small Los Angeles apartment she called home. Benson, her incredibly fat tabby cat, was lounging on the windowsill, lazily yawning and watching her. "Bye, Benson. Be good."
He didn't even blink at her. He'd probably still be lying in that exact same spot when she came home later.
Teagan blew him a kiss then headed out, locking her front door carefully behind her. Within a few minutes, she was behind the wheel of her car and heading toward the studio. It was still dark outside, but she didn't mind one bit. She enjoyed early mornings when the world was quiet and the roads were clearer. Driving was still something that made her a little tense after her car accident, and traffic in Los Angeles was always horrendous. But, at five o’clock in the morning, it was a lot more manageable and didn't make her feel so…terrified.
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