Star Struck

by Meredith Michelle

  “Wow,” you say, taking it all in. “It’s really nice.”

  “You sound surprised,” replies Bodhi, tossing his keys onto the table.

  “I didn’t know what to expect,” you tell him, “but this doesn’t look much like a bachelor pad.”

  “I like it.” He shrugs.

  Bodhi heads to a room at the back of the apartment. “Let me just get my stuff.”

  You wander around, looking at the framed black-and-white photos of waves, canyons, and mountains as Bodhi rustles around in his room. You’re curious about what his bedroom looks like. You wander toward the back of the apartment and peek your head in the door. Bodhi’s back is to you and on the bed is a huge duffel bag into which he’s tossing clothing. His bedroom is gorgeous as well, the walls the same deep brown as the rest of the apartment, the bed covered in a cream-and-gold spread, the matching pillows neatly arranged at the head.

  “Did you do all this?” you ask.

  Bodhi jumps and turns around to face you. He laughs. “Do all what?”

  “The apartment,” you say. “It’s beautifully decorated.”

  “Thanks, but no, I can’t take all the credit.”

  He moves the bag onto the floor and puts his strong hands on his hips. “You know,” he tells you, “now that you mention it, this bed is way too neat.”

  He grabs you by the waist with a huge smile and swings you onto the bed, kissing you and running his hands through your hair. Taken by surprise, you give into the moment, the thick, soft comforter cool and smooth beneath you.

  Bodhi reaches a hand up your short skirt and releases a low growl as he begins to stroke you. You close your eyes and relax as he works his magic, teasing you with light brushes of his fingertips. He hikes your skirt up over your hips and deftly moves off of the bed and onto his knees, placing each hand on one of your thighs, kneading them firmly as he positions his head between them. He breathes over your most sensitive areas, and follows each breath with a tiny flick of his tongue. The sensation is subtle but stimulating.

  He grins up at you, raises his eyebrows, and abruptly ceases, moving to your thighs, kissing and gently biting his way from your knees back to where he started. He pauses momentarily, and you savor the moment of anticipation. Instead of moving back down, he climbs back onto the bed and removes his shorts. Using the smooth, hot shaft of his cock, he pushes gently between your legs and strokes up and down, up and down. You look down between you and the sight of you joined, but not quite, together with the feel of him on your now ultra-sensitive skin, brings you quickly to the edge. You grasp him hard to you as you climax, and thrust yourself into him while burying your head in his neck as you moan with desire.

  When the waves of pleasure finally begin to subside, you reach down, ready to return the favor. But Bodhi gently lifts your hand to his lips, bites your palm softly, and then covers it with a kiss. He shakes his head and lifts his shorts back up, gingerly zipping them over his arousal. You giggle at the sight, “Bodhi!”

  “I’ll be good in a few minutes,” he says with a raspy sigh as he cuddles up behind you on the bed. “It’s kind of a tantric thing, a little self-deprivation,” he explains. “Just wait until I get you to Kauai!” You resist the urge to thrust backward into him, knowing that would be a hugely unfair tease.

  “I can’t wait,” you tell him, with complete sincerity. After a few blissful minutes, Bodhi kisses you on the neck then rises and rifles through his chest of drawers, tossing a few last items into the duffle bag. You lie on the wonderfully soft bed and stare up at the ceiling, painted with an intricately patterned cream medallion surrounded by gold. You can’t help but wonder again about the decorator.

  “So, who’s this mystery designer anyway? She must be the best-kept secret in LA.”

  “She,” says Bodhi, as he gazes down at you and strokes a finger along your upper arm, “was someone who moved in for a while and who was really into making this place her personal domain. It’s grown on me, though, so I kept it.”

  You can’t help but wonder who that “someone” might have been.

  “Everything looks so new. How long ago was this?”

  “About six months,” Bodhi tells you, moving across the room to zip his duffel bag. You sense a change in his tone.

  Six months ago? Bodhi was dating—no, living with—a girl only six months ago and he never even mentioned it? You feel an unwelcome stab of jealousy as you pull down your skirt and stand up from the bed.

  Bodhi buttons his white oxford-cloth shirt, then brushes past you as he heads to the bathroom. You stand stock-still, leaning against the doorframe.

  “What’s up?” Bodhi asks as he reemerges. “You’re suddenly quiet.”

  You’re not sure what to say. You’ve made so many assumptions about who Bodhi is that you’re suddenly uncertain you know him as well as you thought.

  “I just—I never even realized you lived with anybody.”

  “Well”—Bodhi plants a firm kiss on your lips and runs his fingers tenderly along your jawline before he swings the duffel over his shoulder, his eyes gleaming—“I guess I’m just full of surprises.” He grabs your hand and leads you from the apartment.

  * * *

  The skies are a brilliant sapphire as your little plane finally touches down on a runway lined with swaying palms. The sultry island air embraces you as you walk the short stairway to the tarmac and then into the open-air terminal. Bodhi collects your bags and takes you by the hand. You have no idea what’s in store but you’re determined to let him lead you willingly into whatever comes next.

  You share a string of exquisite days and incredible nights in a tiny villa with a thatched roof. The days and nights fly by in a haze of warm air, warm water, and warmer breezes. The balmy weather requires almost no shelter but for the occasional shade of a palm tree. Bodhi spends hours each day surfing the regular and perfectly curled waves that roll onto the pink sand outside your rustic home. You alternately read, sleep, and watch him surf beneath the warm sun.

  At night, you admire his deepening tan and his washboard stomach, running your fingers down the hard rippled surface, and he shows you how much he admires every inch of your body. The temperature never veers below seventy-two or above eight-five degrees. This is your idea of heaven.

  * * *

  On the Tuesday morning of your third week in paradise, you wake from a deep and dreamless sleep to the sound of a female voice coming from outside the bedroom. You sit up and push aside the gauzy mosquito netting that hangs protectively around your bed. You listen, catching only bits of the conversation from the front of the house. The female voice floats toward you, followed by the low resonance of Bodhi’s response, then the laughter of both voices intermingling. You swing your feet onto the warm, dark wood floor and pull on your robe. Before you leave your room, you take a quick glance as you walk by the mirror and stop to push the rogue strands of hair back from your face.

  You peek around the thick, wood doorway to see Bodhi lounging on a low rattan sofa, his arm around a breathtakingly beautiful young girl, obviously of Hawaiian descent. Her sleek black hair swings heavily around her shoulders as she laughs and her perfect chestnut arms and legs are inclined toward Bodhi in an intimate manner. You feel an immediate surge of jealousy and stop your instinct to advance, pausing to collect yourself.

  Well, you tell yourself, Bodhi never said anything to indicate any kind of commitment. You remind yourself of your obligations on the mainland and of the glamorous and hectic life you’ve left behind. Did you really think this would last forever?

  “I know,” says the woman in a melodious, velvety voice with just a trace of an accent, peeking sideways at Bodhi through her veil of jet-black hair. “I missed you so much.” She smiles at Bodhi, and he reaches over to squeeze her knee affectionately.

  “I just hate it that I never know when or for how long I’ll get to see you.”

  “Well,” replies Bodhi, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look happier th
an when he tells her, “I’m working on making this a more permanent arrangement.”

  You pause at the door and look at the floor. It was inevitable that you would have to awaken from this dream at some point, and now is as good a time as any. You think about your options. You could quietly pack your bags and sneak out the door off of the bedroom, across the little wooden path, and be gone within the hour.

  You glance out the window into the surrounding garden of wide, glossy-leafed palms, the early-morning sun filtering in slashes to the ground. You listen for a moment to the hypnotic sound of waves gently crashing on to the beach. This really is paradise. It’s a heavenly illusion, and one you hate to surrender.

  You’re torn between the prospect of facing the fallout that awaits you back in LA and the prospect of facing Bodhi’s mystery woman. Maybe it would be best to leave Bodhi to his own bliss. He didn’t really mean to ask you to accompany him here anyway. You pretty much invited yourself, practically forced him to bring you. What was he going to do, say no to his boss?

  Bodhi thinks you’re still sleeping, and you know you have a decision to make.

  To sneak out of the bungalow and return to LA, turn to page 159.

  To meet Bodhi’s mystery woman, keep reading.

  You take a breath and enter the room, mustering the bravest smile you can. Approaching the seated couple, you extend your hand and introduce yourself.

  “Hi there. I’m Anna.”

  The woman jumps to her feet and again you’re stunned by her beauty and by her height. She stands at least four inches taller than you. Her body is long and slender; her hair falls perfectly to her tiny waist. She looks like a beautiful, traditional Hawaiian doll. She shakes your hand, and you notice her long, strong fingers and perfect but unpolished nails.

  “Of course I know who you are,” she responds enthusiastically. “Even if you weren’t famous, Bodhi’s told me so much about you. I’m so glad to finally get to meet you!”

  Wow, you think, what a tolerant woman. Bodhi’s been telling her all about you (while telling you nothing about her) and she’s thrilled to make your acquaintance?

  “You are so much prettier in person!” she says, “I mean, I always thought you were gorgeous, but seeing you now, wow! And you just rolled out of bed? I mean, this is just so neat!”

  Neat? Her childlike enthusiasm is oddly disarming and strangely familiar. She seems to be totally unaware of her own physical beauty. You’re starting to warm to her in spite of yourself.

  “Oh my gosh.” She blushes. “I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Lana.”

  ” What a pretty name,” you tell her, then cutting your eyes to meet Bodhi’s, “and what a pretty girl.”

  Bodhi rises from the couch, stands by Lana’s side, and returning your gaze, drapes his arm around her shoulders.

  “Well, I knew you two would meet sooner or later,” he says. “I just hope you don’t mind the early hour. And I’m really hoping you two will hit it off,” he adds, crossing his fingers.

  He gives Lana’s hand a little squeeze and clears his throat before saying, “Anna, this is my sister, Lana.”

  “Your sister?” Relief sweeps over you as you give her a hug full of the instant affection you feel. “You never told me you had a sister! I’m so glad to meet you! Bodhi, how come you never told me?”

  “I don’t know,” says Bodhi. “I guess I wanted to see how things went between us before I got the family involved.” He cocks an eyebrow and gives you a half-smile. “You know, Lana can be pretty protective.”

  Lana gives her brother a sisterly punch in the shoulder. “Yeah right! Anna, let me tell you, I’ve been practically breaking the door down to meet the woman who’s been making my big brother so happy.”

  You blush and smile at her words, and at the thought that his sister approves of the two of you being together.

  Bodhi steps to your side and hugs you to him, kissing you tenderly on the top of your head. “See, Lana, I told you she was great.”

  You sit down to orange juice and fresh fruit as the warm sun kisses your little group through the open-air porch. You have that excited, Christmas Eve tingle in the base of your stomach as you learn more about Bodhi’s family.

  Bodhi’s sister—well, half-sister—is the proud mother to an adorable and mischievous young boy named Nick. Bodhi’s mother met Lana’s father on a trip to Hawaii a year after Bodhi’s dad passed away, when Bodhi was just nine. It was a trip the mature-beyond-his years Bodhi had insisted his mom take, and one he paid for with his childhood acting career savings. He wanted nothing more than to help his mom to recover from her grief.

  Little did he know her trip would change his life as well as hers. His mother first befriended and then fell in love with a dashing and jovial Hawaiian that Bodhi soon would affectionately call “Pops.” Within a year they moved to his successful island coffee bean farm and Lana came soon after. Bodhi, who had never had a sibling, loved his new little sister. They grew up with just enough distance in age to become best friends.

  You too find a wonderful friend in Lana. She lets you in on all the secrets of the island and takes you to her favorite spots from markets, to beaches, to mountains. You laugh together as you happen upon a stack of WE Weekly magazines, and the headline, WE EXCLUSIVE! ANNA CHAMBLISS’S HOT DATE NIGHT WITH DRIVER OF MANY YEARS, FORMER CHILD ACTOR, BODHI BANNER. IS ROMANCE IN THE AIR FOR THE HOT STAR AND HER SEXY CHAUFFEUR? You couldn’t feel more distant from the glossy world obsessed with celebrity gossip but you smile at the knowledge that only you and Bodhi know the truth behind the headline.

  Lana’s energetic little Nick becomes a “nephew” and refers to you as Aunt Annie. Your days are spent shopping, island hopping, and sunning on the beach. Your figure rounds out a bit, but you don’t mind since you no longer have to worry about maintaining the unnatural thinness required for an on-screen career. Besides, Bodhi loves your fuller figure and pays special attention to your new curves.

  Bodhi surfs most mornings and works on the coffee farm most days, learning from Pops as he runs and oversees the business. On any given day, Bodhi might be repairing machinery, hiring laborers, hauling huge sacks of beans, or analyzing accounts. He seems to enjoy the work and he returns to you sweaty and spent, hair scraggly and muscles bulging. The two of you make a ritual of an evening shower together, followed by sweet and effortless hours in bed, and then unwind on the tiny beachfront porch to watch the sun set in a dazzling display of oranges, purples, and pinks. You’ve never felt so relaxed and carefree in your life.

  Two months later, you find yourself feeling a little funny, and a trip to the doctor confirms what you already suspect. You are pregnant with Bodhi’s child. You and Bodhi plan a sunset wedding ceremony on the beach, with Lana as your maid of honor and little Nick serving as ring bearer. Your mom and brothers fly in for the wedding, as does Buffy. No one else from Hollywood attends, and that suits you just fine. Your wedding makes the tabloids back on the mainland, but the only ripples you feel here on the island are of pure happiness.

  As you and Bodhi walk hand-in-hand down the sandy aisle, your guests applaud and smile. The sun sets behind you and you’re warmed by the thought of the new life growing inside of you, and the knowledge that you’ve finally found your paradise.

  THE END

  To take Anna on a new Bedventure, go back and choose a new path.

  From page 18 . . .

  “Why not take a chance?” you mutter under your breath. Your heartbeat quickens at the thought of Colm on your arm as you walk the red carpet that evening.

  “What did you say?” asks Bodhi.

  “Nothing,” you tell him distractedly. “I think I actually have someone I should take.”

  The reflection in the rearview mirror shows Bodhi’s face drop, making your heart clench.

  “It’s just a PR thing, Bode. You’d hate it. Believe me.”

  “It’s cool.” Bodhi’s mouth hardens into a thin line as the car glides gracefully back to the ho
tel.

  Buffy greets you, curling iron in hand, as you enter the suite.

  “Let’s do it,” she says, gesturing toward the dressing table.

  “Wait, wait,” you respond. “I have something I have to do first.” You pause for a moment and think. “Would you mind going out in the hall for a minute?”

  “What? Why? Are you okay? It’s not like I haven’t seen—”

  “No—I just—” You hold your breath and decide to spill. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but promise you won’t laugh.”

  Buffy leans back against the doorframe, crosses her arms, smiles, and waits.

  “Promise?”

  “Seriously?” She moves to the vanity table and sets the curling iron down with a thunk. “What’s the big deal?”

  ” I have to make a phone call.”

  “You need me to leave the room so you can make a phone call?”

  “I had no idea I had to take an escort to this thing tonight. Luckily Bodhi told me.”

  Buffy leaps from the doorway and hops up in the air, curls bobbing. “Ohhhh . . . I get it. You’re asking Mr. Irish Eyes to go with you!” She hops forward and gives you a patented Buffy hug, long and strong. “I think it’s great!”

  You roll your eyes as she releases you from her grasp. “Scottish, Buff. And I’m glad you approve, but I feel kind of funny calling him with someone else in the room, so . . .”

  “Okay, how ‘bout if I go into the bathroom and try to figure out the proper lingerie for you? Those grandma pants you have on definitely won’t do.”

  “Oh, stop.” You smile. “You know I’m not that kind of girl.”

  “That’s too bad,” Buffy teases. “Sounds like you might be in for a fun night.”