Adored by You: A Sweet, Celebrity, Military Romance (San Diego Marines Book 7)

by Jess Mastorakos

  Adored by You

  San Diego Marines, Book Seven

  Jess Mastorakos

  Copyright © 2020 by Jess Mastorakos

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Photography By: Naomie Ross

  Cover Models: Real Marine Corps couple, Andrea & Dustin Rits

  Edited By: Krista Dapkey, KD Publishing

  Publisher’s note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and situations are a product of the author’s imagination. Any similarities to real people, places, or things is purely coincidental.

  To get a free copy of the prequel, Forever with You, visit: http://jessmastorakos.com/forever-with-you

  1

  Paige

  “She can’t be serious.” I pulled my sunglasses down, eyeing each member of my team, looking for signs they were messing with me. They stood in a loose half-circle around me, their solemn expressions and black business attire in stark contrast to the sparkling pool and unobstructed view of LA behind them.

  “She is,” my manager-slash-father said, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “But when we talked that day at lunch, she said I was a front runner,” I protested.

  Sharon, my agent, shrugged. “You still are. I’m just not confident she’ll choose you over the other front runners.”

  I hid my eye roll with my dark sunglasses and leaned back, retreating into my egg-shaped wicker chair. “I don’t understand how I’m supposed to branch out if no one can see me in any role other than Dr. Young.”

  “You realize that ending your time on the show means ending it for everyone else too, right?”

  My lips twitched as I stared at my dad. I’d started calling him by his first name a few years ago when his role as my dad had been all but replaced by that of my manager. “That’s what they tell me, Rich.”

  “And that doesn’t bother you? Putting that many members of the cast and crew out of a job?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “I don’t think it’s fair to put that on me.”

  “Paige, grow up,” he shot back. “You’re the whole show. Dr. Lacey Young is Young, MD. If you leave, there is no show.”

  The other members of my team shifted their weight uncomfortably. My publicist and personal assistant didn’t have any skin in the game when it came to which jobs I took, but my manager and agent each earned ten percent of my annual contract with the show. It made sense that they’d want me to sign on for season nine, whether I wanted to or not. There was no guarantee my next job would come anytime soon, especially considering the news that yet another director didn’t think I was the right fit for the leading role in her movie.

  I adjusted my position in the chair, grateful for the breeze coming through the holes in the wicker cocoon around me. “I work with very talented people on Young, MD. I have no doubt they’ll be able to find work after the show ends. And if one of these directors would take a chance on me stepping out of this role, we’ll find work for me, too. But keeping the show going until it dies a sad death is probably bad for my career don’t you think?”

  “The ratings are still great, Paige. The show isn’t dying a sad death,” Rich said.

  “Oh, so it’s just me then? Great.” I picked up my paper fan and unfurled it with a snap, instantly calmed by the cool air it provided as I moved my wrist from side to side. The egg chair was usually my favorite spot to relax in my paradise of a backyard, but my team was ruining it with their negative vibes.

  Molly, my best friend and personal assistant for the last six years, snorted from behind Rich. She covered her mistake with a coughing fit, and I was reminded again why I love her. My dad took himself and his job as my manager too seriously sometimes, and Molly knew better than anyone how I felt about him and my time on the show. She encouraged me to follow my heart and branch out, and her presence in the conversation gave me the strength to stick to my guns.

  I sat up straight. “Let’s get back to the movie. Is there any way we can sway the director into picking me for the role?”

  Rich and Sharon looked at each other, and I could see the unspoken words between them with that one look. But screw them. They were only thinking about their bottom line and I knew it. After eight years on Young, MD, I needed a change. If they wouldn’t support me, I’d leave anyway, and there were plenty of other people in the business I could find to manage my career and find me jobs. People who cared about what I wanted and not just what they wanted from me.

  “I may have an idea,” Joy, my publicist, spoke up for the first time.

  I grinned at her. “Tell me.”

  “The director’s son is a Marine,” she said. “A Marine asked you to the Marine Corps Birthday Ball last year. Do you remember?”

  My smile faltered as images of Noah’s bright smile flashed through my mind. “Yep.”

  “Why don’t you reach out to him and see if the offer stands for this year’s ball?” she asked.

  Rich frowned, looking back and forth between us. “What’s this about?”

  “It’s just a thing Marines do,” Joy explained. “They invite celebrities to the ball for bragging rights. Plus, you know, it’s good PR for the celeb. Mila and Justin have done it.”

  “Timberlake?” he asked.

  She nodded. “The one and only. I never understood why you had me ignore him last year, Paige. I thought his invitation post was so sweet.”

  Rich narrowed his eyes at me. “Because it wasn’t just any Marine was it?”

  “Nope.” I retreated into the egg-shaped chair again, wishing the darn thing had a door so I could slam it shut on this conversation.

  Joy stepped forward. “I’m just saying, I think it would give you an edge if you showed your support for the military like that. Taking time out of your busy schedule to go to the ball with him, you know? Plus, he was in San Diego, which happens to be where the director lives and is where the movie is being filmed.”

  “How serendipitous,” I deadpanned.

  “Indeed,” Rich agreed. “You didn’t tell me about the invitation.”

  I shrugged. “Didn’t know I had to.”

  He didn’t have an answer to that, so he turned back to my publicist. “It was a good thought, Joy, but she ignored him last year because she knows I don’t want her anywhere near that moron.”

  Quirking a brow, I leaned forward. That wasn’t exactly true. But it was interesting that even after eight years, my dad was still firmly anti-Noah.

  “I’m sorry,” Joy blurted, “I didn’t realize you knew him, Paige.”

  “It was a long time ago,” Rich replied for me, waving a hand. “She doesn’t anymore.”

  “Purely from the business angle, it’s not a bad idea,” Sharon said. She looked at her watch as if her time was running out for this meeting. She was a top agent in the industry and likely had other clients to see. “If she really wants to do the movie, that might be her best shot at standing out from the other front runners. Military moms are a proud bunch. She’d likely appreciate the gesture of support.”

  “Well, if that’s the only thing that’s going to secure the part, I guess she’s not doing the movie,” Rich said as if it were obvious.

  I pulled my sunglasses off and looked directly at Joy. “Set it up.”

  All around me, the reactions from
my team varied. Rich barked out a bitter laugh, tossing his hands up in surrender before walking away. Molly did a subtle fist pump in the air, likely proud of me for standing up to my dad and doing what I wanted to do. Joy, quick-to-action as always, flipped open the case on her iPad and started tapping on the screen. Sharon held out her hands as if to say, “That settles it,” and pulled her phone out, following my dad into the Spanish-style villa.

  “I found him,” Joy said, looking up from her iPad. “Sergeant Noah West. He’s stationed at Marine Corps Air Station Miramar in San Diego. Do you want me to direct message him or do you want to do it?”

  I looked at Molly. As one of the only people in my world who knew about Noah West and what he meant to me, I needed her opinion before I answered Joy.

  “I think you should do it,” Molly said. “Especially since you didn’t even respond to him last year. It’s probably better for you to DM him personally, rather than have your publicist do it. At least, you know, if you want him to say yes.”

  “Solid point,” I said. My hands shook as I reached for my phone beside me on the plush cushion. I opened my social media app and hit the search icon, then took a deep breath and looked up at Joy. “What’s his username?”

  “West Case Scenario.”

  I snorted, pulling up his account. “Got him.”

  My breath caught in my throat as I scrolled through the photos of Noah West. He had definitely aged well in the last eight years. I’d intentionally stayed away from his profile all this time because I knew how much it would wreck me to watch his life unfold and not be part of it. Even when Joy had told me about the birthday ball invitation last year, I’d resisted the urge to look once she’d told me his name. Hopping on his feed for the first time ever was like opening up the floodgates.

  Memories washed over me as I scanned the photos. I opened a close-up of his face, my eyes landing on his full lips. I was instantly transported back in time, remembering how soft his lips were even if it was the fiercest of kisses. His bright blue eyes reminded me of the way he used to wink at me from across the room, letting me—and everyone else—know that I was always on his mind. And even though it had been eight years, I’d be lying if I said thoughts of him never crossed mine.

  “What are you going to say?” Molly asked, breaking into my thoughts.

  I looked up to find that Joy had left at some point during my stalking of Noah’s feed. Now that it was just me and Molly, I relaxed. “Um, how about, ‘Hey, Noah, how have you been? I know it’s been a while, and I know I ignored your ball invite last year, but can I go with you this year? It would be really great for my career.’”

  Molly wrinkled her nose. “Hmm. Maybe not.”

  “Do you really think it would help me get the part if I went with him? Or am I just opening up a can of worms for nothing?”

  She bit her lip, glancing at the house behind me, then came over and sat on the short table in front of my chair. “Paige, this is Noah we’re talking about. If you ask me, he’s the reason every relationship you’ve had in the last few years hasn’t worked out. You’ve got him up on this pedestal of being the one who got away. I think it’s time you take him down so you can move on with your life.”

  Harsh words from my closest friend made me zone out on the LA skyline that stretched out behind her, not wanting to admit she might be right. “Do you really think so?”

  “Yeah, I mean, I know there were a few jerks thrown in there,” she fake-coughed the name Chase, “but I think some part of you is still holding on to Noah and it’s not letting you move on. Even when you date a really great guy, something always gets in the way … and that something might be your rose-colored memories of Noah.”

  “So, what, you think going to the ball with him will show me he’s not as amazing as I remember?”

  Molly reached out and patted my knee. “I think it’ll show you he’s just a guy, Paige. He’s just a guy you dated when you were eighteen and it’s okay to let him go. Plus, you know, there’s the added benefit of being seen with him to get you in the director’s good graces.”

  “Like killing two birds with one stone?”

  “Exactly,” she replied.

  2

  Noah

  I don’t know how long I stood there while my eyes focused on the small writing on my smartwatch. Several times, the screen timed out, and I had to shake my wrist for it to come back on and show me the social media notification again.

  @therealpaigewalker wants to send you a message

  Why on earth would the real Paige Walker want to send me a message? I hadn’t heard a peep from her in eight years. And when I’d used this very same social media account to make a post inviting her to last year’s Marine Corps ball, she couldn’t even bother to react or respond to it. Now she wanted to send me a message? Maybe I should just ignore it. Better yet, maybe I should read it and then ignore it. I bet that’s what happened to me last year.

  I dropped my arm and sighed, looking up and down the crowded outdoor mall. I knew my friends were just around the corner at the jewelry store shopping for an engagement ring for O’Malley’s girl. I could head over there and ask for their advice.

  I took a step in that direction only to stop short. This was a big moment for O’Malley. And he was sharing it with his son and his brother. Not knowing whether I should open a message from my ex-girlfriend seemed to pale in comparison to picking out the perfect engagement ring. Even if my ex-girlfriend was one of the most famous actresses on American television.

  As if to illustrate my point, I turned back toward the parking lot and came face-to-face with a billboard for her show, Young, MD. Paige Walker. There she was, in all of her glory. Her thick, curly hair fell over her shoulders. She wore navy blue scrubs and a stethoscope around her neck. Her full lips were twisted into a sassy smile, with one hand clutching medical charts to her chest and the other hand holding the side of her glasses.

  I tore my gaze from her dark brown eyes and found her character’s two best friends standing shoulder to shoulder in the background of the poster, with this season’s love interest and last season’s love interest in a thought bubble above Paige’s head. After eight years on air, the show had gone from a female version of Doogie Howser, MD to your average romantic dramedy set in a hospital. And I had to admit, the plot was getting a little ridiculous. Not that I watched it.

  Okay, fine, I tortured myself by watching every episode. It was a problem.

  A wooden bench stood directly in front of the poster, and almost as if I were on autopilot, my feet took me there and I sat. I put my shopping bag next to me and pulled out my phone, taking a deep breath as I opened the social media app and clicked on the direct message with her username.

  therealpaigewalker: Hi, Noah.

  I rolled my eyes and threw my head back. All of that anxiety for two words? Unbelievable. I sent up a quick prayer for calm and clarity. Anxiety had no place in the new life I led. Only God knew how much of it I’d lived with growing up, and I’d worked hard on my relationship with Him so I could keep from feeling that way now. As much as I could, anyway. I was only human.

  The little green dot next to her profile picture told me she was still online, so I rubbed my palm on my pants and prepared myself for a full-blown conversation with Paige Walker.

  westcasescenario: Hi, Paige.

  The message was read so quickly I was sure she’d had her phone in her hand with the message screen open. The dots appeared that indicated she was typing her reply. Nerves swam in my gut as I pictured her sitting on the other end of this chat window, wondering if her hair was piled high on her head in a messy bun or flowing over her shoulders like in the poster in front of me.

  therealpaigewalker: How are you?

  I tilted my head from side to side, trying to decide how to answer. Many celebrities had social media handles like hers to signal that it was their real account and not a fan page. But that didn’t mean it was really her. For all I knew, it could be an assistant or some
thing. Before this went any further, I had to be sure I was actually talking to the real Paige Walker.

  westcasescenario: Where did we go on our last date?

  therealpaigewalker: Noah, it’s me.

  westcasescenario: Cool, then answer the question.

  therealpaigewalker: You’re ridiculous.

  westcasescenario: Did you forget?

  therealpaigewalker: We hiked Camelback Mountain and then had a sunset picnic at our favorite spot.

  It may have been eight years ago, but I could easily conjure up the image of her sitting on a rock in the Phoenix desert, overlooking the valley below. We’d both grown up in the greater Phoenix area, and no matter where I went or what other view I laid my eyes on, the vast Arizona sky and the way the mountains turned purple at sunset would always be my favorite. And with as often as we’d done that Camelback hike and sunset picnic routine, I’d be lying if I said Paige had nothing to do with that.

  westcasescenario: I’m great. How are you?

  therealpaigewalker: Real talk?

  westcasescenario: Please.

  therealpaigewalker: I’m kind of a mess right now.

  I stared at her words and wondered if my brain was making this whole thing up. Paige Walker was a mess? Paige Walker was a mess and she was coming into my DMs to tell me about it after not talking to me for eight years? Why?

  I sighed. Whatever her reason, I already knew how I’d respond.

  westcasescenario: How can I help?

  therealpaigewalker: For starters, is that birthday ball invite still valid?

  I snorted.

  westcasescenario: LOL. Really?

  therealpaigewalker: The ball is coming up again, right? Can I come with you this year?

  Was I being Punk’d? Was this some kind of prank on a hidden-camera show? I looked around the courtyard of the outdoor mall. No camera crews in sight. No one was really paying me any attention. Glancing back up at Paige’s giant face on the poster in front of me, I narrowed my eyes at her before turning back to my phone.