by Layla Hagen
“Wow. I couldn’t tell.”
“I’m an actor, sweetheart.”
Her eyes narrow. “I don’t want you to act around me. I want to know what you’re thinking. All the time.”
That makes me pause. Acting is a self-preservation technique, but I know what Summer’s asking for, and I can’t resist her. “Okay.”
Maybe her trust in me when finding that number moved me more than I’m ready to admit, but I don’t want to hold back with her, even if it might get me burned. I accept that risk. I want to take it.
“What was your favorite dish as a kid?” Summer asks, while we eat bread with the several spreads that came as appetizers.
“Donuts. Mom makes the best donuts. Sometimes we’d go out to this restaurant close to the Japanese Garden. Good times.”
“Do you miss Portland?”
“Nah, just my parents. Sophie and I are still campaigning to convince them to move here.”
“What’s keeping them from doing that?”
“Ironically, I am.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think they’d be happier if I had a regular nine-to-five job. All this media attention is too overwhelming for them. We had some incidents a few years ago with paparazzi, and they’re still wary, so convincing them to move here is a work in progress.”
“Well, until they do, you’ll have a gazillion Bennetts smothering you.”
“I thought I needed a helmet for meeting your family.”
She holds up the forefingers of each hand. “First you will need a helmet. That’s a rite of passage. Assuming they like you, if you’ll want to keep them at bay, you’re probably going to need a bat.”
“Assuming?” I challenge.
“Don’t worry, I’m talking you up.” She grins, pointing at the food. “This will certainly earn you points.”
After we finish the starters and main course, I come to the troubling realization that the catering company forgot our dessert. I check the fridge, then call them.
“It’ll be here in half an hour,” I tell Summer, who’s inspecting my fridge like it’s some diamond mine. Sophie stocked it for my return. Summer pauses only to glance over her shoulder and say, “No need. I’ll make us a tiramisu. You’ve got all the ingredients, and it’s easy to make.”
I blink. “Summer, you don’t have to do that—”
“I don’t mind, I promise. Don’t order anything.”
I bring the phone back to my ear. “We won’t need that dessert after all. Thank you for your services.”
After clicking off, I watch Summer kick off her heels, cracking eggs in a bowl.
“Why is your fridge so well stocked?” she asks.
“My sister took care of it. Sophie is dying to meet you.”
“You told her about me?”
“Of course.”
“I’d love to meet her. And by the way, sneaking up in my office was superhot, but I’ve got to admonish you. It was risky. I think Preston would have a mental breakdown if he found out. I’ve looked over that list of security measures he sent me... my mind is still spinning.”
Walking up to her, I wrap my arms around her, flattening her back against my chest, resting my nose in the crook of her neck.
“After this whole premiere mess is over, I promise things will calm down a bit. And then I’ll take you to the fanciest restaurants, on the fanciest dates.”
She stills, covering my hands with hers, turning her head slightly. “Alex, I don’t care if we go out, or we stay in. I just like spending time with you. I get it that things are a bit crazy now, and your life in general is more... colorful than most people’s, but I can handle it.”
I cradle her tighter in my arms, kissing her neck, barely believing how lucky I am that she’s mine, and that she’s taking all this in stride, like I’m worth all her effort. I’ve never felt more appreciated.
“I can’t get enough of you. Now I just have to make sure you can’t get enough of me either.”
“And how do you plan to do that, mister?”
“I have some aces up my sleeves.”
“Hmm... I’m torn between admitting you don’t have to work that hard, and egging you on so you use all those aces. Whoops, I guess the cat is out of the bag.”
I smile against her neck, watching her hands move rapidly on the counter.
“How can I help?” I ask, finally letting go.
“List your skills in the kitchen, and please don’t pimp yourself.”
“I’m very skilled at sneaking into kitchens and charming the personnel into doing whatever I want. The rest of my skill range expands from sandwiches to boiled eggs.”
“Right.” She eyes my hands thoughtfully. “But I bet I can count on you for brute force. How does whisking eggs sound? My arms are already hurting.”
“Feel free to put me to the best use as you see fit.”
She smiles, pushing her hair out of her face, smearing her forehead with yolk in the process. “Hate to be so blunt, but I think your best use... will not be in the kitchen. I’m optimistic about the bedroom though.”
Stepping right in front of her, I wet my fingers under the sink, clean off the yolk smears on her forehead, then kiss those spots. Nothing’s ever felt more real, more important than having Summer in my house, in my life. I lean in even closer, whispering in her ear.
“That’s because you don’t know yet what I can do to you on a kitchen counter.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Summer
On Sunday evening Alex flies out again, and I count down the days—if I’m honest the minutes too—until the weekend and I get to see him again. I keep an eye out for Tara over the next few days, but she doesn’t show her face at the gallery or attempt to contact me.
Meanwhile, Olivia is working hard on earning the Neurotic Boss of the Year title, which is completely unwarranted. This is the gallery’s most profitable year. By the looks of things, it will also be the year I sprout my first white hairs.
Midweek, my sisters surprise me by showing up at the gallery near closing time. They’re both flashing their “we’re up to shenanigans” expressions.
“We’re here to whisk you away to a speedy spa session,” Pippa explains. “We have instructions from a certain hot superhero to help you relax.”
“Wow, when did he talk to you? How does he know I need to relax? I haven’t complained about anything.”
Pippa hooks an arm around mine, leaning in conspiratorially. “Any man worth his salt can pick these things up from the tone of voice, willingness to engage in sexy talk on the phone, and so on.”
“I think he’s trying to get under mine and Pippa’s skin, so he’s got some backup on Saturday.” Alice gives me a thumbs-up. “It’s totally working.”
So... I don’t know if his goal is to make me fall in love with him or just to make me swoon, but he’s succeeding on all accounts. Oh boy.
I can take care of myself, and when I forget to, my family is there to do it for me. But having this wonderful man look out for me, even though his schedule is packed? Well, I won’t lie... it touches somewhere deep inside me and tugs at my heartstrings. Tugs at all the strings.
An electrifying energy coils through me while we’re at the spa, and it only grows more intense once I’m at home. Alex calls at eleven on the dot.
“How’s my girl?”
“Thoroughly pampered. To what do I owe that surprise?”
“You sounded down when we talked the other day, and I couldn’t have that, could I? And since I’m not there to work the tension out of your system....”
I giggle into the phone. “Careful, Mr. Alexander Westbrook, or I might want you to stay away just so you can surprise me like this.”
“Choosing spa treatments over me, huh? Ouch.”
I wiggle under my sheets, sighing. “I’ll fess up. Your snuggles are way more relaxing than spa treatments.”
There’s a pause, and then he says, “Snuggles?”
He
says the word slowly, as if checking that he heard correctly.
“Yep.”
“I thought you’d choose a sexier activity.”
“Snuggles are sexy.” Clueless man. “You wrap those muscle-roped arms around me, squeeze me to the muscled chest.”
“Ah, now I get the picture.”
“I can’t wait for you to come back, Alex.”
“I can’t wait to be back, baby.”
Alex is scheduled to fly back on Saturday around lunchtime, which is why I put my sneaking skills to good use and convince his sister, Sophie, to let me in his house early that morning. I met her last Sunday briefly, but I didn’t have her number.
Obtaining it from Alex required utmost sneakiness, but I managed it without him sniffing me out. I’m so proud of myself. So proud.
I want to surprise him, bake him one of my specialties as a coming-home gift. And then there’s me, of course. I can’t wait for him to unwrap me. We don’t have much time before we have to leave for my parents’ house, but I have full confidence in his ability to blow my mind even in speedy mode.
“You’re going to be all right on your own?” Sophie asks as I move around the kitchen. “I’d help you with the baking, but my son has an appointment requiring both parents.”
“I know my way around here, Sophie. Don’t worry,” I assure her.
“My brother hasn’t been so happy in a long while. Just don’t bail on him when the going gets tough. I’ll come after you if you do that.”
I stop in the act of spreading flour on the counter. “I don’t plan to bail on him.”
“No one plans to, but they just do when things become... too much. Even our parents kind of checked out. His life can get overwhelming at times.”
“I noticed. But I know how to handle a lot of this stuff, and what I don’t know, I want to learn.”
Preston’s e-mail with instructions flashes in my mind. Overwhelming doesn’t even begin to cover it. Almost every aspect of our relationship must be preplanned, to avoid being seen.
And this house... though I can hear the wind blowing when I’m outside, the tall tujas are planted so close together that they block the brunt of it. I bet their purpose goes beyond decoration, to ensure no curious eyes can peek inside here. But jeez... what kind of parents check out when the going gets rough?
After Sophie leaves, I throw myself into my baking project. Once it’s in the oven, I clean the kitchen, which looks as if a flour bomb exploded in it. Yikes. I’m so immersed in tidying it, that I barely register the front door opening. But when I do, panic shoots through me.
“Can you turn your back and pretend you haven’t seen this? I need two more minutes to finish cleaning.”
Instead of showing me mercy, Alex stalks toward me, pulling me into a hot, wanton and dirty kiss. He tastes like coffee and mint, and I can’t get enough of him.
“How are you even here?” he whispers.
“Sophie. Since you conspired with my sisters, you brought plotting with each other’s siblings to the table.”
He holds me close, both arms wrapped around me, pressing me against his chest. Oh boy. He barely arrived, and he’s already snuggling me. Can I keep this man? Forever and ever? I really want to keep him.
“What’s that delicious smell?”
I grin impishly, wiggling against his body. Yep, all those muscles are just as hard as I remember. “I baked you a welcome-home apple pie. Momma’s recipe. And please know, I don’t bake that for just anyone.”
Alex takes my face in his hands, resting his thumbs on my temples. “Is that your way of telling me I’m special to you, baby?”
The voice of reason urges me to hold back, because this could blow up in my face at any moment. What are the chances of an international star falling in love with me? When he could have any beauty in Hollywood, any runway model? If I’m honest though, the “holding myself back” ship sailed a while ago.
And the way he looks at me? I swear it seems to say that he wants to keep me for good too.
“You are very special, Alex.”
“Good. Because you mean the world to me.”
My stomach flips back and then flips some more as he kisses my forehead, snuggling me again. I don’t know if this is official snuggle day or anything, but I soak it all up, right until it’s time to take the pie out. Once it’s on the counter, Alex reaches for it, but I pat his hand away.
“It’s scalding hot. You’ll get burned. Wait a bit.”
“I don’t like to wait when I’m hungry.”
He levels me with his gaze, unleashing the full power of his million-dollar smolder. I’m tempted to check if my panties have melted off. They certainly feel on fire. He’s not hungry just for pie. Oh, goodie. My body has been in a state of semi-arousal since I woke up, in anticipation of sexy shenanigans.
He holds me against him, covering my mouth with his, and by God, this isn’t just a kiss. It’s the kiss of all kisses. It feels sweeter and hotter than before, more intimate.
He trails his mouth down my neck, one hand slipping under the hem of my shirt. I press my hips into him, almost involuntarily parting my legs.
“Alex,” I whisper.
“Fuck, you’re so responsive. Those sounds you make drive me crazy.”
“What sounds? I’m quiet.”
“You try to be, but the way you swallow those moans... makes me wonder just how much pleasure you can take before you fall apart. Makes me want to test your limits.”
A shiver runs through me, and I pull back just enough to look him in the eyes... which are hooded and full of lust.
“Fuck... you want me to test you, to push you, don’t you, Summer?”
Well, duuuh.
“I do. But here we are, still talking. Kind of makes me think you don’t really mean it.”
I’m nearly bouncing on my toes, waiting for his reaction. The flesh between my thighs has turned tender already, greedy for his touch. Whenever I push him, he answers with sexy treats... or sexy threats. Yum. Which one will it be now? I have my answer when Alex lifts me over his shoulder, carrying me caveman style all the way to the bedroom.
***
Time is my enemy. It passes too fast when I’m enjoying something, and too slow when I’m dreading something. So of course, by the time we emerge from the bedroom, we’re on a tight schedule.
“This is delicious,” Alex exclaims, gobbling down my pie like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. In the meantime, his free hand is shamelessly feeling up my ass.
“Hey! My pie demands your full focus. So does my butt. Focus on one thing at a time.”
He winks. “I’m great at multitasking. But we should go. I’ve got to buy flowers for your momma.”
“No, you don’t.”
“It’s the first time I’m meeting her. Of course I’ll bring her flowers.”
I’m definitely keeping him. The world can explode in my face all it wants, I’m going to fight tooth and nail to keep this man.
“Okay. I know a nice flower market on the way. Let’s go.”
We climb into Alex’s car, which has tinted windows. Short of someone jumping in front of the windshield, they can’t see who is inside. My thoughts circle back to Tara. Was she really satisfied with my half-assed brush-off? Or is she waiting in the shadows, biding her time?
“I’m trying to picture what it’s like to grow up with eight siblings. I’m assuming you don’t need friends,” he says as we hit the road.
“Ha, you’d think so, but we always had a house full of friends. Some even became adopted Bennetts.” At his puzzled expression, I explain, “That’s what we call really close friends.”
When Alex pulls the car in the parking lot behind the flower market, he turns to me.
“It’s best if you stay in the car.”
“Sure, no problem. Not being seen together was on top of Preston’s list.”
Putting on sunglasses and his trusted cap, he plants a small kiss on my forehead before climbing
out. It’s so weird to see my surroundings through tinted glass.
Running my hands along the plush-leather seat, I smile to myself like a fool, my heart feeling a little too big for my chest. I can’t believe I’m with a man who wants to bring Mom flowers. Is it possible that I’m dreaming?
Just when I’m wondering what’s taking Alex so long, I hear a ping coming from the bag at my feet. I crouch and take out my phone, turning it screen up.
Alex: Can you lay low? I’m being ambushed by fans, and they’ll follow me to the car.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Summer
My heart thumps in my ears, and it takes me a few seconds to realize he literally means for me to lay low.
Panic crawls up my spine, lodging in my throat. Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement in the distance. Alex is hurrying back from the building, surrounded by a crowd. I don’t know if there is a reporter among them, but anyone with a smartphone can do enough damage if they get a glimpse of me.
“Okay, Summer. No time to panic. Whip up a plan.”
I push my chair back enough so I can crouch down in front of it. Okay, this is good. No one can see me through the windshield... but they can if they peek inside the car when Alex opens the door. The jackets!
Yanking both our jackets from the back seat, I cover myself with them as best I can, hoping it’ll look like he’s got some sort of package here and threw the jackets over it. Fingers crossed no one looks close enough to realize one of the jackets is for a woman.
My stomach tightens when I hear the driver door swing open, and Alex’s voice booms. “My car is private property. Please step back. I already gave you autographs—”
“Alex, come on, another autograph. I want one on my skin.”
“Here, take my number—”
The sound of a door being shut follows, but I don’t dare push the jackets off me just yet.
“I’m backing out right now,” Alex explains, setting the car in motion. “Just a second until we’re out of here.”
I count seventy-five seconds until he yanks the jackets off me, throwing them in the back. When his hand comes down on the stick, I notice it’s trembling. Anger is etched on his features. I reach out and lay my hand on his. “It’s all okay, Alex.”
