Summer with a Star (Second Chances Book 1)

by Farmer, Merry

  He sighed and set his script aside, propping himself up on his elbows. Tasha sat at the head of the bed, but he lay sprawled across it, his head supported by two pillows at the foot. He was buck naked too, partially because of the heat wave that had hit Summerbury without mercy the day before, and partially because they’d made love only half an hour earlier…and might just do it again before supper. The old Victorian had no air conditioning, but the windows were open and the breeze blowing in was almost enough to take the edge off the heat.

  “Security are not wasps,” he explained, running his toe along the edge of her thigh. “The guys down there, Duke and Mitch, are nice. Yvonne sent them up from New York. I work with them every time I’m in the city. They’re fine.”

  Tasha’s scowl didn’t let up by a millimeter. “But that’s it. They’re there. Just sitting down there.”

  “Walking around outside,” he corrected her.

  “They could hear us. They could see us…like this.”

  She nodded to him, her eyes zeroing in on his flat abs, his narrow hips, but especially his penis. Little Spence was resting now, but one tiny glance from her stirred him. Her scowl melted into a lusty grin, which only sent more blood to the place it would do the most good.

  “Would you rather I get dressed?” he asked, eyebrow arched.

  “No,” she giggled.

  “Then why worry about Duke and Mitch.”

  Tasha laughed. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of looking at you,” she said, tilting her head to the side.

  “You’re not so bad yourself,” he hummed.

  She snorted. “Are you kidding? Look at all this pudge.” She squeezed the flesh of her curves with an anxious frown. “I’m going to look like my aunt Bernice someday.”

  “You look beautiful and feminine,” he told her. He reached for her, pulling her into his arms so she could lay on top of him.

  That lasted for about thirty seconds.

  “It’s too hot for that,” she said, shifting to his side, her hand staying on his chest, fingers toying with his nipple. “And you’re too hot for me not to ogle.”

  He laughed. “Ogle away. That’s why I put in all the work to look like this.”

  She propped herself up on one arm to stare down at him. “Is it a lot of work?”

  “Hell, yes,” he answered. “My trainer would lose his mind if he saw how much I was slacking this summer.”

  She frowned. “You’ve gone for a run every morning since the locals stopped noticing you, and you do pushups and things.”

  “It takes a lot of work to have the perfect Hollywood body.”

  His explanation put her frown back on her face, right where he didn’t want it to be. He reached up to cradle her jaw, to run his thumb across her lips and cheek. There was something amazing in the way she worried about him. It was actually him she was worrying about. It wasn’t because he might wreck her bottom line or undo all her hard work. It was because she cared about him as a person. He’d forgotten how nice it was to be just a person.

  “If it makes you feel any better,” he said, “I’m right at the end of being able to play the hot young cop type roles anyhow. I might be able to cut back on the physical intensity soon and take more character driven roles so I don’t have to kill myself to look like this.”

  Her frown twitched to confusion. “Is that really a thing? Ranks and levels of roles depending on what you look like?”

  He shrugged. “Look how the roles that actors play over the years change. First you get the sexy action roles where they want you in as few clothes as possible, then you get the deep, thinking roles that earn you award nominations, and then you get the gritty character roles that let you stretch your acting chops.”

  Tasha stared at him as though that truth were baffling and horrible.

  “It’s worse for women,” he said. “If they don’t look good in a bikini, the roles dry up.”

  “Hollywood sucks,” she said.

  He laughed. There was nothing he could do but laugh. “That’s why we do indie films and live theater and television when it all becomes too much.”

  “That’s why Yvonne wants you to be in this Second Chances show?” Tasha rested by his side again, stroking his chest and stomach in a way that would raise his flagstaff in no time.

  “Yep.” He was losing his train of thought fast. “It’s a good script too. I mean, how often do you get to play the Angel of Death?”

  “The Angel of Death.” She propped herself above him, her eyes bright with mischief.

  He smiled, from his lips, from his eyes, from his heart. She was gorgeous hovering above him like that.

  “If I was going to be any kind of angel, that’s the one,” he said. “I like that the show takes place in a nursing home. Lots of potential for some of the finest older actors and actresses in the business to guest star in meaty roles. And since I’ll be the Angel of Death, I’ll get to work with them. Lots of great flashbacks mean lots of period settings too. I would love to play more period roles.”

  “That sounds cool. I’d watch it in a heartbeat,” Tasha said.

  “Good! Tell that to the studio.”

  She laughed. “So why haven’t you told Yvonne you’ll do it yet?” she asked, resting beside him again.

  He shrugged, wondering the same thing. “I want to find out more about who’s involved and where it will be filming.”

  Really, he wanted assurance that it wouldn’t film in L.A. Yvonne was under the impression that principle filming would be at a studio in New York, but that location shoots could be anywhere up and down the eastern seaboard. Which meant that he could stay out of Hollywood and still do what he loved. It also meant he could be that much closer to Tasha.

  He didn’t want to lose her. It had only been a couple of weeks, but he knew that as certainly as he knew his own name. He wanted to keep her—in his arms, in his bed, in his life. With Tasha, he had a chance at something real.

  “Have you ever done a fully nude sex scene?” she asked with a mischievous lilt. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one that you’ve done, but I haven’t seen all your movies.”

  He laughed, shifting his free arm above his head. “I shot one once, but it didn’t make the final cut.”

  “Really? What a waste.”

  His body shook with mirth as he remembered. “It was the single most awkward thing I’ve ever done. I spent most of the day standing around bare-ass naked, everything hanging out, while a dozen crew members hovered around, all technical, with lights and boom mics and camera.”

  “Fun.” Tasha smirked.

  “If you think that’s fun, just imagine hair and make-up. I had a creative team decide what to do with my pubic hair.”

  She gaped at him, then broke down into laughter, nestling against his side in spite of the heat.

  “After that, I decided never again,” he finished. “Yvonne puts a strict no nudity clause in all of my contracts now.”

  “The world is missing out.”

  “Not really,” he chuckled. “Someone leaked some of the raw footage. I’m sure if you do an online search for ‘Spencer Ellis naked’ you’ll be able to find it.”

  “I’m not sure how I feel about anyone who wants to being able to see naked pictures of my—” She stumbled at the end.

  “Boyfriend?” he filled in the word with a teasing arch of his eyebrow.

  She let out a breath. “Seeing my boyfriend in the buff.”

  It was intended to be a lighthearted comment, but Spence was no fool. Tasha tensed just enough for him to know she really wasn’t okay with it on some level. But whether she wasn’t okay with him naked on the internet or with him calling himself her boyfriend was a knot that he wasn’t ready to try to untie.

  “Are you going to reach for your phone and look naked me up?” he teased.

  “I left my phone downstairs,” she said, a shade too serious.

  “I haven’t seen you apart from that phone for days,” he said. “Won’t Jenny
miss your scintillating text conversations?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know how scintillating it is to have your best friend constantly hounding you for details of your love life.”

  “Isn’t that what women do?”

  She dug her elbow into his side. “No. Not me, at least.”

  “Poor Jenny,” he laughed, catching her elbow and rubbing it. “When was the last time you talked to her?”

  “A couple of days ago,” Tasha admitted, a little guiltier than she probably wanted to sound.

  “So it was before we did that thing with your legs up over—”

  “Spence, stop!” She dissolved into giggles.

  The sound shot straight to his groin, and he felt himself growing hard against her backside.

  “We could try it again,” he said, reaching for her thigh and lifting it so that he could grind against her. “Maybe in reverse?”

  Her giggles would drive him to distraction if he wasn’t careful. “Spence!” she scolded.

  A thump in the hall downstairs dowsed their heat before it could really get going. Spence grunted and rolled to his back. Tasha huffed in frustration.

  “I thought you said security wouldn’t come upstairs,” she said.

  He listened for a moment before saying, “They aren’t coming upstairs.”

  Through the open window, they could just make out Duke’s voice around the front of the house. Mitch answered, indistinct, but definitely not upstairs.

  “There,” Spence said. “They’re just working. So maybe we can get to work.”

  He spooned her again, grinding against her backside and reaching for a breast.

  “I can’t,” she laughed, pulling away from him. She slipped off the side of the bed and scrubbed her hands through her hair. He loved how feminine her hair was, even short.

  “Can’t what?” He said with exaggerated intensity. “And why?”

  She leaned forward to kiss him. “Can’t play ‘how many condoms can we use in one afternoon’ because I’m sweaty, I’m hungry, and it’s almost supper time.”

  She backed away, circling around the end of the bed, looking as tempting as Eve with an apple as she walked to the door. The way her hips swayed ramped him up to the point where it was nearly impossible to pay attention.

  “So you’re just going to leave me like this?” he asked, turning to display his growing erection to her.

  She laughed and shook her head. “Yes.”

  She blew him a kiss and stepped out into the hall. He heard her giggle on the other side of the door once it was shut.

  Then he heard her scream.

  Stepping out into the hall naked and flushed with arousal was not the brightest idea Tasha had ever had. Especially when she pushed open the upstairs bathroom door to find that it was occupied.

  Not only occupied, Simon Mercer stood by the toilet, zipping up his jeans. Simon Mercer. And she was naked.

  She screamed.

  Simon jumped about ten feet and exclaimed, “Jesus!”

  A second later, as Tasha grabbed for the towel that hung by the door to cover herself, Simon burst into laughter.

  “Bloody hell! I’ve never had a naked woman scare the stuffing out of me like that before,” Simon exclaimed in his thick, British accent. He leaned heavily against the sink, clutching a hand to his heart.

  Spence’s bedroom door banged open and he lunged into the hall, naked, with his fists raised. Tasha’s eyes popped even wider as she hugged the towel around her middle. She backpedaled into the hallway, smacking into the opposite wall as Spence flew into the bathroom doorway.

  “Spence! Fancy seeing you like this,” Simon greeted him, his eyes aglow with mirth. His mouth twitched into a wide grin.

  “Goddammit, Simon,” Spence growled. His chest heaved and he’d broken out in a flush all over, but he relaxed his hands and let his arms drop. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Happy to see me?” Simon peeked down at Spence’s penis, still relatively excited from their previous activity.

  “I could kill you,” Spence shouted in reply, though a grin pulled at his lips.

  Simon nodded at Spence’s crotch and said, “I’d give you a hug hello, but you’re not really my type. Her, on the other hand.” His glance shifted to Tasha, and he smiled, as charming as the day was long. “Hello, love. Simon Mercer.” He held out his hand.

  “Simon Mercer,” Tasha repeated. Her heart was still beating somewhere up around her eyeballs. She forced her breathing to slow, forced her brain to grow back to full size and grasp the situation. “Hi?”

  “Go downstairs,” Spence roared, grabbing Simon’s arm and pushing him toward the stairwell. “We’ll put some clothes on and meet you there.”

  “No need to get all formal on my account,” Simon said, winking at Tasha.

  “Go!” Spence ordered.

  “All right, mate.” He held up his hands and sidestepped until he got to the top of the stairs, then headed down.

  As soon as he was out of sight, Spence broke into a chuckle, running a hand through his hair. “Simon.” He shook his head.

  “Some security we’ve got,” Tasha said, her voice an octave higher than usual.

  “They know him,” Spence explained, then groaned, still smiling, and rubbed his face. “We’d better get dressed and head down there before he breaks something.”

  Ten minutes later, after a lightning-quick shower, dressed in jeans and the most conservative t-shirt she had, Tasha headed downstairs. She could hear Spence and Simon out on the porch, talking and laughing like two old friends who had never been apart. A stab of jealousy shot through her.

  She paused in the hallway and let out a breath, scolding herself. Of course Spence had friends. Every normal person had friends. It wasn’t fair of her to grudge him that friendship. Still, instead of heading straight outside, she made a detour into the dining room, where her phone sat on the table with their half-finished puzzle. Everyone had friends, but not everyone’s friends were notorious Hollywood playboys who made the headlines more than they made movies. If Spence didn’t think she was a boring, stodgy old teacher before, he would now.

  Her phone was packed with texts from Jenny.

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Earth to Tasha, are you there?”

  “I’m desperate for some scoop here.”

  “Is everything all right?”

  “No, seriously, just text me to let me know everything is all right.”

  “Hello? Are you still alive?”

  “Okay, now I’m getting really worried.”

  The last one was from a couple of hours ago.

  Tasha signed and texted, “I’m trying to have a vacation here. You know, that relaxing thing people do at the beach? Stop pestering me.”

  A twinge of guilt struck her as she hit send, but really, Jenny needed to let her have five minutes to herself without a text. She really was trying to enjoy a vacation. She left her phone on the table and headed out to the porch. Yes, a peaceful, happy vacation alone with the man of her dreams, who mysteriously liked her enough to do very naughty things with her, things the parents of her students would balk at. A man who you could search the internet and find naked pictures of, who needed security, who roared with laughter when his buddy, the Simon Mercer, told a joke. She’d never felt more out of place.

  “Did I miss something funny?” she asked as she approached the wicker chairs where the guys sat.

  Simon wiggled his eyebrows at her and took a long swig of the beer he’d managed to find.

  “Not really,” Spence told her, his own beer in hand. She hadn’t seen him drink anything stronger than coffee at the house since she’d arrived. “Simon here was telling me about a party in New York he was at that got out of hand.”

  “Ostriches everywhere,” Simon added with an expansive gesture. “It was a total mess.”

  “Ostriches? In New York City?” A strange, slipping feeling crept down Tasha’s back. The same feeling she
thought she’d banished a week ago. Who were these people, and what was she doing trying to fit in with them?

  The worst of the sensation was soothed when Spence reached for her and pulled her down to sit in his lap as Simon went on.

  “Of course, it turned out that the ostriches were from some stage show extravaganza and the handlers had the wrong address,” he said while Spence smiled at Tasha, closing an arm around her waist and kissing her shoulder. “But the police got involved because there may or may not have been a few illegal substances at the party. And then, of course, Yvonne found out about the whole thing.”

  Tasha tensed. She peeked sideways at Spence. He met her furtive look with a calm smile, but his arm tightened at her waist. She wasn’t sure if it was meant to be comforting or if he was holding her there to keep from running.

  “No wonder Yvonne left here so fast,” he said.

  “Yvonne was up here?” Simon asked. He may have been a brilliant actor who had just been nominated for the biggest awards Hollywood had, but Tasha didn’t buy his sudden innocent act at all.

  Apparently, neither did Spence. “She headed down to New York a few days ago to keep you from self-destructing,” he said. “I’m beginning to understand why.”

  “Yvonne is the best thing since the wheel,” Simon said, “but she does lay it on a little thick now and then. Don’t you think so, Tasha?”

  Wariness sat heavily on Tasha’s gut. She freed herself from Spence’s lap, whispering a short, “It’s too hot,” as her excuse, and sliding onto the sofa. “Yvonne certainly was interesting,” she replied to Simon.

  “That’s one word to describe her,” Simon agreed. “She’s a corking manager, though.” He raised his beer in salute and took a sip before asking Spence, “Did she bring you that pilot script? Second Chances?”

  Spence’s brow flew up. “You know about that?”

  Simon finished his beer before answering, “Yep. She had me read one too. I read it again on the ride up here. She’s lobbying for me to play Dr. Wiseman.”

  “The head of the hospital?” Spence asked.

  “One in the same. It’s a strong role, just a little outside of my milieu, but meaty, challenging.”