Just a Summer Fling

by Cate Cameron

  He nodded as if he appreciated her words. “You should get a job with the tourism department.”

  “Oh yeah? Any perks with that job? Maybe a visit from a representative of the Vermont hospitality commission?”

  “I don’t think that’s a real thing,” he said with a smile.

  “Oh. How disappointing.” This was more like it. Much better to stay in the moment and enjoy herself with Josh than to worry about things she couldn’t control. “I guess private citizens need to step in and fill a gap like that, huh? Everyone has to do their part to make the tourists feel welcome?”

  “There’s so many different ways to make ‘fill a gap’ sound dirty, I don’t think I can pick just one of them.” He stepped forward and stretched his arms around her, resting both of his hands at the small of her back. “But I’m definitely willing to do my part.”

  His hands slipped lower, cradling her ass and lifting her like she weighed nothing, and she wrapped her legs around him and held on tight. “Take me to bed and show me your natural wonders,” she ordered.

  “I’ll make you see stars,” he promised, and he carried her to the bedroom.

  * * *

  MORNING came. Josh woke around dawn and lay there watching Ashley sleep as the room grew brighter and brighter. He shifted his body to shade her eyes from the direct rays of the sun so she wouldn’t be wakened. He was only delaying the inevitable, but that was hardly a new behavior for him.

  When she finally stirred, he watched her wake up, saw her disorientation, saw her remember where she was and who she was with, and saw her smile.

  It made it all worthwhile. Right there, right then, she was happy to be with him. She didn’t care that the cabin was small and a bit ragged, didn’t care that he was battered and bruised. She was happy.

  “I’ll get coffee,” he whispered, and slipped out of bed before she could protest. It was stupid, he knew, but he needed a moment on his own, a bit of time to process and appreciate the wonder of having her in his bed. So he pulled on a pair of sweatpants that he’d been wearing the day before and headed to the kitchen. When he’d made the coffee and fixed her mug the way she liked it he returned to the bedroom and she was sitting up, wearing his T-shirt, her hair messy and perfect.

  She smiled at him. “I don’t know if I want coffee,” she said quietly. “It’ll wake me up, and I don’t think I want to wake up.”

  “You can sleep more.” He thought about it. Maybe he could crawl back into bed with her. Sure, he had work to do, lots of it, but this was absolutely a special occasion. Maybe he could tell himself he was still too sore to do any work. None of the houses he looked after were actually on fire or anything, and if the McArthurs carried through on their threats, his list of projects was probably about to get a lot shorter.

  “No,” she said resolutely, reaching for the mug. “I need to get in gear. Charlotte’s going back to L.A. later this week and we want to get some more work done on the script before she goes. And . . . I need to talk to you about something.”

  He didn’t want to hear the last part of that. Didn’t want to wonder what she needed to talk about. So he said, “Charlotte’s going back? Does Kevin know?”

  Ashley shrugged. “I guess so. Probably. I don’t think it’s a secret.”

  Not a secret. Just not a big deal. Charlotte was leaving. No drama, no need for alarm. Her real life was calling, so obviously she had to respond. He made his voice level when he asked, “What do you want for breakfast?”

  “After yesterday’s feast? I guess just coffee.” She didn’t sound regretful, just matter-of-fact. “I don’t know what body type they’re looking for on the Western, but I figure I’d better go in at my fighting weight, and they can always tell me to gain if they want. If I go in fat, they might assume I’m undisciplined.”

  He nodded again. He didn’t know a thing about Hollywood expectations, but obviously she did, and she had a plan for how to meet them. She’d been with him for one day and was already starting to work her way back home. He wasn’t surprised, exactly. But he’d hoped he’d have a little longer.

  “I’m going to shower,” he said. “If you change your mind and want some fruit or something, help yourself to whatever’s in the kitchen.”

  She smiled at him and stretched languorously, but he made himself look away from the way her breasts arched against the thin fabric of his shirt. Then he let himself look back. One more memory to torture himself with after it was all over. But she saw him watching, grinned wickedly, and looked down at herself. “Oh, this is your shirt, isn’t it? I should return it . . . or maybe you should come get it.”

  Damn it. His feet were moving before his brain even kicked into gear, but who was he kidding? His brain wasn’t going to get in the way of this, not anymore. He crawled up the bed, bracketing her quilt-covered body with his arms and legs. His senses seemed enhanced and he could smell not only her coffee but the sweet sugar in it; not only her natural fragrance but the scent of her growing excitement. The quilt was softer than he’d ever noticed, and when he got past it and slid his hands under her shirt, her skin was so warm he wondered if she might be fevered.

  “You’re okay?” he whispered as his lips hovered over hers.

  Her eyes were wide. “A hell of a lot better than that.”

  His control was gone. This was going to end, but right now, he had her. She was in his bed, in his shirt, at least for another couple of seconds, and he was going to take advantage.

  He pulled the front of the shirt up over her head, lowering his mouth to her breasts almost absently as he dealt with the fabric behind her back. Not taking it right off, but leaving her arms in the sleeves, then knotting the fabric in the middle tight enough that her wrists were bound. Enough slack so that she could bring her hands to either side of her body—he didn’t want her to be uncomfortable, lying on her hands. He just wanted her to stay there with him, at least for a while. She’d be leaving soon enough.

  But not right then, he reminded himself. Right then, he had an incredible woman in his bed, and her eyes had widened when he’d restrained her arms, the same way she’d responded the night before when he’d held her wrists. Not a sign of anything, he reminded himself. They were on compatible sides of the same minor kink: it didn’t mean they were fated to be together forever. But it damn well meant they could have fun right then.

  He trailed one finger down the soft skin between her breasts, then flattened his hand over her rib cage. She arched her back, pressing up into him invitingly, but he just grinned at her. He’d be a little late starting work that day, and that was just fine. He’d have plenty of time to make up for that later, after she was gone.

  He pushed himself up onto his knees, hovering over her, the hardness jutting out of his sweatpants so close to its ultimate target but separated by layers of fabric. She was staring at him; not his face, but lower, and he dipped his fingers beneath his waistband and wrapped his hand around himself. She licked her lips unconsciously, then grinned at him and raised her eyebrows.

  “Got anything I could help you with?” Her voice was husky, and this time when she licked her bottom lip, then bit it, he knew she was doing it on purpose.

  “I can take care of it,” he said casually, running his fist along his hard length to demonstrate.

  “You had better not, you asshole!” She was laughing, her eyes dancing, her breasts jiggling just right as her chest moved. He couldn’t tease this woman for long; he didn’t have the self-control.

  So he leaned down and kissed her, ground his hips down to meet hers, and he wasn’t sure which of them was moaning and which was gasping, but he was pretty sure it didn’t matter. He slid a hand under the quilt and found his target, then kissed her as her body responded.

  The early morning sun streamed into the room, Daisy the Demon Dog flopped to the floor beside the bed, disgusted at her humans for apparently planning to waste e
ven more of their time indoors, and Josh knew things would never be better than they were right at that moment. If he’d been able to freeze time, he would have done it.

  But he couldn’t, and Ashley seemed completely unaware of how fragile their happiness was. She leaned up to him, murmured encouragement and dares and threats into his ear, kissed him until he couldn’t think, couldn’t control himself, couldn’t resist the temptation to strip down the covers and let her roll over on top of him.

  “Condom,” she ordered. “Right now.”

  Obedience was a virtue. And there was something hot about having her arms restrained behind her back and her still being in charge and bossing him around. So he found the condom and she sank down onto him with a satisfied moan.

  “Perfect,” she whispered as she started to move, and he looked up at her, and he absolutely agreed.

  Eighteen

  ASHLEY LEFT HER sweater in Josh’s bedroom. It wasn’t deliberate, exactly, but it wasn’t accidental, either. She liked the idea of establishing a beachhead, making it clear that the full invasion into his life and home would soon follow. But he frowned at her as she was heading out the kitchen door, jogged down the hall, and came back with the garment in his hand.

  “Oh,” she said. “Thanks.”

  He nodded an acknowledgment, but didn’t say anything. They were quiet as they walked to his truck. Ashley clambered into the passenger seat, shut the door, and looked out at the property. The horses had come down to the front of their pasture and were watching the humans, and Daisy was sitting near them. They felt like an audience, but Ashley wasn’t sure just what kind of show they were going to see. “Uh, Josh . . . I didn’t want to tell you last night. I don’t really want to tell you now, but I guess I have to.”

  He stared at her for a moment, then said, “You’re going back to L.A. with Charlotte?”

  “What? No. No, it’s not about me, really. Well, a little bit about me, but mostly . . .” She sighed. She wasn’t going to be able to sneak up on this, wasn’t going to find any magic words that would make it all okay. “Last night when my manager called, it was to warn me that somebody sold some pictures to a gossip site on the Internet. Pictures of . . .” Damn it. She didn’t want to do it. But he needed to be warned. “Pictures of you. And David McArthur. At The Splash. And I guess whoever sold the pictures gave a pretty good idea of why David was hitting you.”

  He stared at her. “On the Internet?” He didn’t sound upset, exactly. More stunned.

  “Yeah. On a gossip site. A pretty popular one.”

  He kept staring, then asked, “Why? Why the hell would anyone care?”

  “Because the McArthurs are big players in Hollywood.” She didn’t want to add to that, but she made herself say, “And because you’ve been seen with me. I guess they got a shot of us driving out of The Splash parking lot. Maybe a few other shots. I don’t know.”

  His nod was too jerky, too forced. “Okay,” he said.

  “I’m so sorry—”

  “It’s not your fault,” he said. His voice was louder than it needed to be, but he quieted it before he added, “I’m the one who made the mistake. Not you.”

  “But the mistake is being publicized because of me—”

  “Not your fault,” he repeated, and he turned on the engine and drove just a little too fast down the driveway.

  Ashley had no idea what to say. She didn’t think he was ready to joke it off, and she doubted he’d appreciate any sage advice about how the first time in the gossip-go-round was the worst and it would only get better from there. But changing the topic felt fake. So they drove in silence until they pulled up in front of the lake house. Charlotte and Kevin were on the porch, and it was clear from their cautious expressions that they’d already heard the news.

  Josh’s smile looked forced as he turned to her and said, “It’s not a big deal. Don’t worry about it.”

  She knew he was lying, but didn’t think there was any point in calling him on it. She wanted to lean over for a good-bye kiss, not worrying about their little audience, but something about the way Josh was holding himself made her wonder if he’d push her away. She didn’t think she was brave enough to take that chance, so she pushed her door open and slid down to the ground. “You want to come over for dinner?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure. Business might be . . . Things might be a bit hectic today. You know. Tidying up, trying to contain the damage. I might end up working late.”

  “Call me,” she said. She supposed she was a cliché, the desperate girl trying to hold on to a man who just wanted to escape, but she could remember his gentle touch, his sweet smile, and she knew he was worth sacrificing a little pride. “Whatever time you finish work. Even if you don’t want to come by, just . . . call me. Okay?”

  He nodded, then turned to look at her and his expression slowly softened. “Yeah. Okay.” He leaned over then, and she stretched back into the cab and the angle was awkward and impossible but the kiss was still sweet. “I’ll call.”

  It was all she could ask for, so she made herself pull away and then watched as he backed up and drove off. It shouldn’t have felt like such a final departure.

  She waited a bit to make sure he wasn’t going to turn around, then groaned in frustration, stalking up the stairs to the porch and sprawling onto one of the padded wooden chairs. “What a mess,” she said.

  Kevin grinned at her. “Yeah, that’s how people tend to react after spending too much time with Joshy. He’s a pain in the ass, huh?”

  “He’s lovely,” she countered. “None of this is his fault.”

  Kevin looked at her skeptically. “Really? You don’t think so?”

  “None of the publicity is his fault. And the rest of it? Josh wasn’t cheating on anyone. It maybe wasn’t totally honorable, but I know how Jasmine is. She can make you do the stupidest things.”

  “Interesting to hear you defend him like that,” Charlotte said. “You sound very . . . enthusiastic about him.”

  Ashley snorted. “You’re acting like you’re some sort of genius because you’ve noticed I’m crazy about him? I’ve been telling you that since you got here! I’ve been practically broadcasting it to the whole state for half the summer! You noticing that I’ve got a thing for Josh Sullivan is not evidence of you having super-psychologist powers.”

  “You’ve had a thing for the idea of Josh Sullivan for half the summer,” Charlotte said. “But you haven’t actually spent much time with him until recently. I was wondering how the real thing was going to compare to the fantasy. But apparently physical Josh is just as good as dream Josh?”

  “Better,” Ashley said with a meaningful look at her friend. “That man can do things—”

  Kevin threw up his hands. “No! Okay, no. If you guys are going to have a conversation about the things my cousin can do, when you’re using that tone of voice? I do not need to hear it.”

  Ashley ignored him. “I swear his tongue is, like, prehensile . . .”

  Kevin looked disgusted, then confused. “Wait. Prehensile. What does that even mean?”

  “Go look it up, babe.” Charlotte patted Kevin’s shoulder and eased by him, crossing the room to take Ashley’s hand and pull her toward the living room. “And take your time. We have some girl talk to do.”

  Kevin squinted at them. “Seriously? This is—you’re going to talk about—while I’m right here?”

  “You can go inside if you want,” Charlotte said generously.

  “I have to go inside or I’ll hear about my cousin’s tongue?”

  Ashley pulled her legs under her and curled up in the corner of the big chair. “You’re going to hear about a lot more than just that if you stick around,” she warned.

  “I’m going!”

  And he did. They sat quietly for a while, then Charlotte said, “This is what Adam called you about last night? He
said it was really important, so I was hoping . . . well, when I saw the Internet this morning I figured out what it was probably about. But last night I was hoping you got an audition for the Western.”

  “No,” Ashley said. The movie seemed strangely distant. Still something she wanted; something she wanted more than anything. But she’d somehow managed to almost forget about it over the last couple of days. “I don’t know if they’ve even set up auditions yet.”

  “They have,” Charlotte said quietly.

  Ashley frowned. “They have? Who’d you hear about it from?”

  Charlotte made a face before admitting, “My agent. That’s what I’m flying down for. They’re going to let me read for both parts.”

  Ashley let herself feel the disappointment, but not for too long. As soon as she could be sure it would be honest she said, “That’s great, Char. I’m really happy for you.”

  “I didn’t want to tell you.” Charlotte looked miserable. “It makes no sense, them looking at me and not you! I’ll tell them how great you are, okay?”

  “Oh my God, Charlotte, don’t be stupid! This is the business! We both know how it works. You win some, you lose some.” Ashley was pretty sure that if she said it often enough she’d remember that it was true. “We need to focus on getting you ready! Did they tell you what scene they want you to do? Are you reading with someone else, or on your own?”

  “You’re really okay with this?”

  “I’m a tiny bit jealous and a big bit disappointed, but mostly I’m happy for you, Char. Really.”

  Charlotte exhaled a breath she’d clearly been holding for too long. “And you don’t mind working with me a bit more? Until I have to leave, you’re okay working on the script a bit more?”

  “Of course. I want to.” It was mostly true. And hopefully the part that wasn’t true would go away if Ashley just ignored it hard enough.