by CJ Roberts
Her feet, however, needed work. As Lauren stood in her stockings, she contemplated her choices: her sturdy iron gray pumps or the black leather stiletto boots Sandra had coerced her into purchasing along with a matching long coat. She slipped on the stilettos. After all, she was meeting Nic The Lover, not Nic The Accountant.
Not normally a wearer of make-up, Lauren fiddled with the blush she’d bought for this trip, alternately sucking her cheeks in and puffing them out again. The instructions stated that if applied properly, the three colors would make her appear to have actual cheekbones. She shook her head and sighed. Clearly, she needed more practice.
But lip gloss, now that she could handle. Her lips curled into a girlish smile as she spread it on. The taste of her cherry gloss on Nic’s perfect lips—soft yet firm on top, full and plump on the bottom—had driven her wild. Maybe she’d get another taste tonight. At the thought, she shivered and felt a sudden dampness between her legs. Laughing at her own naughtiness, she air-kissed her reflection. Get over yourself Lauren. This is a meeting, not a date.
A man leaning against the check-in counter, speaking with a pretty young hotel employee, caught Lauren’s attention as she entered the lobby. The man, whose back was toward her, wore faded blue jeans and heavy black biker boots. His wide shoulders filled a black leather bomber jacket. If his front looked even half as good as his back, he’d be some serious eye candy.
The man turned around and she stopped breathing. Although Nic looked fantastic whatever he wore, this look, straight out of Darkness Rising, was her favorite. As Sandra liked to say, it revved her engine. Several moments later, she managed to suck in some air and get her feet moving again.
He didn’t say a word or move from his spot at the check-in counter as she approached, but his intense eyes followed her. When she reached him, a wide grin spread across his face and he pushed himself off the counter. “Bonsoir, chérie. You look breathtaking.” He lifted her hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles.
As it had the day before, the old-fashioned gesture caused her cheeks to flush with pleasure. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” If understatements were dollars, this one would make her very rich.
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her on each cheek. She breathed in the fragrance of his cologne, combined with his own masculine scent. Something deep inside her awakened, and she barely resisted the urge to hold his cheeks in her hands and kiss him senseless. This was a business meeting after all.
They said good night to the desk clerk, and Nic escorted her out of the hotel. He stopped beside a sleek black motorcycle with Triumph written on the side and handed her a helmet.
“Oh, no.” Lauren shook her head. “I may be wearing leather, but I’m not a biker chick.”
“Come on, chérie. It’s a great night for a ride. Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“Don’t you have a car? It doesn’t have to be a Porsche; even a Prius would be okay.”
His smile faded. “I should have asked you first. Let me call a taxi.”
Feeling like she’d kicked a puppy, she took the helmet from his hands. “Promise you’ll go slow?”
“Chérie, I’ll go as slow as you need.” The heat in his eyes when he spoke curled her toes.
Oh, God. She was really going to have to do this. But what could be hotter than Nic on a motorcycle? She climbed on behind him and fastened the helmet.
“The only thing you need to do is lean when I lean,” he advised her over his shoulder. When she nodded stiffly, he smiled. “Relax and hold onto my waist.”
No problem. She wound her arms around him.
Nic coughed and then chuckled. “Maybe not so tight…”
Lauren groaned and snatched her hands back. Instead of impressing Nic The Lover with her sexy sophistication, she’d turned into a freaking boa constrictor. Why was she doing this again? Ah, yes. Because she couldn’t deny him anything.
Reaching back, he took her hands and laid them across his stomach. Lauren could feel the hardness of his muscles even through his jacket. With a small pat, he let go and started up the bike.
True to his word, he drove slowly down the busy city streets. But even then, each time he turned a corner, she had to muffle her screams against the back of his leather coat. He’d told her the restaurant was nearby, but instead of staying on the local streets, he drove up a ramp onto the Beltway. She tensed and clutched at him as their speed increased. After a few miles, she realized that while the Beltway meant going faster, it also meant no more turns. Relaxing, she leaned against him and began to enjoy the ride.
Pink, orange, and mauve colored the sky as the sun began its descent. A few times, she’d risen early enough to photograph from her living room window the sun rising over the Cascade Mountains, but had remained a mere observer to the overwhelming beauty of nature. Tonight, as they sped along the Beltway surrounded by the colors and the descending night, she felt at one with the beauty of the sunset. No longer was she simply viewing the world through a camera lens. She was out in it, part of it. All too soon, the lights on the streets and in the houses turned on, one by one, twinkling like tiny stars in the darkness.
Nic took the next exit and stopped at a traffic light at the bottom of the ramp. “I’m going to head back to town so we can go eat. Having fun?” She gave him a quick squeeze, and Nic drove across the overpass.
Todd had been the wild one, the adrenaline junkie, not her. She never drove past the speed limit, never rode motorcycles, and definitely never hugged a gorgeous man on the back of a bike as they sped along a highway. But she was loving the ride. Closing her eyes, she marveled at the sensation of her breasts pressed against Nic’s back, her hands on his stomach, his butt against her thighs, the vibrations of the powerful bike between her legs.
Sometime during the ride, her hands had worked their way under the edge of his jacket, but they were still a little cold. Without thinking, she unclasped her hands and slowly scrunched up his shirt until she touched his bare skin. Nic sucked in a breath as she spread her frosty hands across his abdomen. His hard muscles rippled, and she shivered.
What was wrong with her? Maybe it was the vibrations, or the handsome man in her arms, or the feel of his hot skin, or the vivid fantasy from last night. She shouldn’t be touching him like this, but no amount of self-recriminations could get her to move her hands. Gone was the sophisticated professional. Five years of celibacy had turned her into a slut.
If they didn’t get to the restaurant soon, she’d come on the back of Nic’s motorcycle.
The tight knot in Nic’s gut began to relax at the sight of the Thailand Delight restaurant. Thank God the ride was over. Another few minutes of that and he would have disgraced himself. What was wrong with him? He was Nic The Lover, not some overeager teenager. He pulled into a parking spot in the small strip mall, turned off the motor and kicked out the stand. Sighing deeply, he braced himself on the handlebars and hung his head.
Even though they were no longer moving, Lauren was still plastered against him. Her breasts and stomach warmed his back while her thighs cupped his butt. Her arms remained around his waist, and her hands… Her hands had not stopped massaging and caressing his stomach. Nic shivered in pleasure as one hand began a downward path.
A slow sensual swirl of a finger around the sensitive rim of his navel sent waves of sensation rippling up his spine. Her hand hovered mere inches above the bulge in his jeans, but then she pulled back. Although his cock was practically begging for her touch, her reaction pleased him. Too many women felt that because he was a public figure, they somehow had a right to his body.
“Ready, chérie?”
Her body stiffened and she jerked her arms away, losing her balance. Nic twisted around and steadied her as she scrambled off the bike.
“I’m so, so sorry about… that!” Blushing furiously, she indicated his chest with a wave of her hand. “Maybe I should go back to the hotel.” She averted her gaze.
Nic couldn’t
help but be flattered. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not offended. What man wouldn’t want the touch of a lovely woman on a night like this?”
She shrugged and wrapped her arms around herself before looking up at the night sky. “I never imagined a motorcycle ride could be so magical, so exhilarating.”
After removing her helmet, he removed his own. With his feet firmly planted on the ground to maintain the bike’s balance, he reached for her arm and pulled her beside him. “Twilight is my favorite time to ride. I’m glad I got to share it with you.”
He imagined lifting her up to straddle him on the bike, leaning her back over the handlebars then kissing her deeply and suckling on her peaked nipples. Heat rushed to his groin and he hardened even more. Going by the look on her face, the lovely Lauren was as affected by their ride as he was. “Let’s go inside.”
When she stepped back and turned toward the restaurant, he pocketed the keys and adjusted himself. He certainly didn’t want a repeat of yesterday. Although he hadn’t spotted any paparazzi as he’d driven into the parking lot, these days, everyone had a camera at the ready. The last thing he needed was more front-page photos of himself sporting a hard-on.
He climbed off the bike and stowed both helmets away in the saddle bags. When he slipped on a pair of black-framed Oakleys, she gaped. “You wear glasses?”
“No. But for some reason, when I wear these, people don’t recognize me.”
“Like Clark Kent?”
Nic nodded. Although he was no Superman. If he could make time go backwards and change the past, he certainly would have used the ability back in eleventh grade.
The wonderful spicy scents of oyster sauce and fried noodles teased his senses as they stepped inside the Thai restaurant. Lauren closed her eyes and inhaled, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
“Look at the beautiful pergola.” She pointed to the ornately decorated wooden structure in the center of the room. Nic was amused. He’d had no idea what the thing was called, but he had to admit it did add to the garden-like atmosphere of the restaurant.
Nic led Lauren to a table in a back corner, separated from the others by a low wooden wall. Several colorfully decorated pots of exotic flowers and leafy green plants lined the top of the partition. From his seat, he had a perfect view of the door and the large windows, but was well hidden if any paparazzi showed up.
The hostess handed them menus and took their drink orders. A few minutes later, a waitress arrived with an MGD for him and a chardonnay for Lauren. They placed their orders: two-star cashew nut chicken for him and five-star pad thai for her. Another delicious surprise; he loved women who liked it spicy.
Lauren took a sip of her wine. “I want to ask you something, but maybe it’s not appropriate.”
Nic grinned as her cheeks colored. “The inappropriate questions are always the best.”
“At the photo shoot, didn’t it bother you when Vivian oiled you up?”
Laughter rumbled in his chest. “I keep forgetting you haven’t been tainted by Hollywood yet. On set and for most photo shoots, there’re people who do my hair and makeup. If the costumes are complicated, they dress me. If I have to be bare-chested, I get waxed, painted, and oiled. And I won’t even mention the fans. Anyway, to make a long story short, wherever I go, people touch me.”
“If I ever get somewhere as a freelancer, I’ll keep that in mind. I want my clients to feel respected, not molested.”
“Not if, when.”
She smiled. “I’ve been wondering, why Nic The Lover?”
“I earned it.”
She blinked. He laughed. “It’s the English translation of my name. Lamoureux means The Lover.”
“So it’s not a reflection of your abilities… on screen… or off?”
“The name stuck because I acquired a certain reputation with the ladies… on screen… and off.” He loved teasing her but kept it gentle. She seemed somehow fragile and innocent, even when she was trying to get in his pants.
The waitress arrived with their entrées. As Lauren ate, he watched her. She was nothing like the women he usually dated. Okay, so this wasn’t a date. Whatever. She was intelligent and funny, reserved yet unpredictable. The sparkle in her ever-changing eyes made him smile, and he wanted to kiss the small heart-shaped freckle below her right ear.
What he’d grown up around and what attracted him were petite curvy women, women like Lauren. But his life was the opposite of hers. Whereas hers was simple and safe, his was chaotic and, now, dangerous. Even if she could see beyond the ugliness of his past, who knew what the stalker would do if they got into a serious relationship? He couldn’t afford to get involved with her.
Even so, it wouldn’t hurt to know more about the beautiful Lauren. “Did you grow up in Seattle?”
“I moved there when I got a scholarship to study photography at the Art Institute of Seattle.” She leaned back in her chair and took a sip of her wine. “You’re from Montréal, right?”
Nic watched her lick a stray drop off her lips. He stared as she swallowed. He wanted to kiss her lips and lick the long expanse of her throat. Christ. He spread his legs a little wider under the table, easing the pressure against his fly. What had she asked him? He shook his head and tried to focus.
Her eyebrows flew up. “You’re not? Every article I’ve ever read about you said you were from Montréal.”
Nic slugged back his beer and forced himself to concentrate on her words and not on her mouth. “No. I am from Montréal.”
“Do you go back there often?”
He grimaced. “Whenever I can, which isn’t often enough. Vivian keeps me pretty busy.”
“Don’t you miss your family? I’ve only been here a few days, and I miss my son already.”
How could he answer her question without revealing anything? She leaned over the table and placed her hand on his. “That’s too personal. Please forget I asked.”
Great. She probably thought he was hiding something. Which he was, but he didn’t want her to know that. “There’s nothing to talk about. Hollywood is my only family.”
Using a redirection technique he’d picked up from Kaden, he changed the subject. “Tell me about your son.”
“Jason is eight going on eighteen.” Her face shone with pride, making his heart ache. He missed seeing that look on his own mother. “I think he’s your youngest fan. He’s seen all your kid-friendly movies and knows the dialogue by heart.”
“What’s his favorite?”
“He has two.” She counted them off on her beautifully shaped fingers. “One is Lost Treasure. He loves all the action. Last Halloween, he dressed up as your Jonathan Buckley character.” Her eyes twinkled as she laughed at the memory.
Leaning back in his chair, he took another sip of his beer and stretched his legs out under the table. “What’s the second?”
Nic admired the view as Lauren crossed her legs. His heart thudded in his chest when he saw her feet again. The thought of Lauren in nothing but those black leather stiletto boots and a smile was enough to kill him.
“His second favorite is also my favorite.” She raised her eyebrows.
Still slightly dazed, he mentally shook himself and accepted her challenge. “Days of Fire.”
She snorted. “Not even close.” When he frowned, she added, “But I liked that one too.”
He was very proud of the work he’d done on that film. “Okay, so which one is it?”
“Small Town Blues.”
“Why?” In Small Town Blues, he played a father in a rural town whose farm is bought out by a large dairy corporation, prompting the family to move to the big city to start a new life. It was a musical with lots of singing and dancing, and since he wasn’t particularly talented at either, the movie had bombed in theaters and gone straight to DVD.
She picked up her napkin and started twisting it between her fingers. “The situation of the family in the film is like ours. They’re starting a new life too, and it brings him hope that someda
y we’ll be happy.”
He pulled his feet in and leaned forward to ask in a low voice, “When you lent me the dog tags, yesterday, you mentioned your husband…”
“…died five years ago,” she finished, lowering her eyes. “Todd worked on a medevac team in Afghanistan, rescuing downed soldiers. Until insurgents with RPGs shot down their helicopter. There were no survivors.”
Her husband had died a hero, protecting his country, whereas Nic had destroyed his family. She would be disgusted if she ever found out.
Nic took her hand in his. “I’m sorry. Too many good men are dying in that war. It must have been very difficult.”
She nodded. “Jason was only three and didn’t really understand. Each time he asked me, ‘When’s Daddy coming home?’ in his little baby voice, my heart broke all over again.” Her expression suddenly brightened, and she looked up, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “But whenever we watch Small Town Blues, he’s happy again.”
He answered with a smile of his own. It always surprised him how much his movies affected people, people he didn’t even know.
Mick Jagger’s She’s the Boss blared out, startling both of them. Grinning sheepishly, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “Sorry, it’s Vivian.” He answered the call.
“Darling. I’m here, in your room, and you are not.”
Uh-oh. He knew that tone very well. “I went out to get some dinner.”
“When we spoke this afternoon, I told you I’d see you tonight.”
“Hey, sorry about the mix-up. I’ll make it up to you.”
“Never mind, we have something more important to discuss. Fifteen minutes ago, our friend posted another sighting on CelebrityStalker. It says you’re at… what was it? Here it is. Thailand Delight on Stanley Street. Is that where you are?”
Nic met Lauren’s gaze. “Yes, but I didn’t tell anyone.” A sudden pinch in his palm made him relax his death grip on the phone.
