The problem was, I didn’t want a girl. I didn’t want to be attached. My parents were—and then they weren’t. Twice. Twelve years ago I promised myself I wouldn’t go there. I would be a bachelor forever. Not ever break a girl’s heart, not really. This twenty-four year old guy was single…forever.
But it felt like my heart was in command right now. My head…my plotting and acting… on hiatus. Last night when I pulled a typical “shock and awe” Chase moment on Jimmy’s show—when I was about to drop my pants and give the audience a boxer-covered-view of my ass—I caught a glimpse of Phoebe giggling on the stool in the wings. And suddenly, I wanted her. I didn’t want to be untethered. I’d initially congratulated myself on denting Phoebe’s armor, and beating her challenge of being ‘single,’ but as I lay in bed last night, staring at the ceiling, I was almost scared of how that thought comforted me, to be tethered to Phoebe.
As we drove to Phoebe’s apartment, I settled into the Town Car’s leather seat next to her. She already looked a little like she was sleepwalking at this point, and I pulled her onto my shoulder to give her a little pillow. I knew how tiring a film set could be. She snuggled in and she slightly sighed. My heart flipped. Actually, it was more like a tightening, the swelling taking all the space in my chest and making it difficult to breathe.
This is what it’s all about, I said to myself.
My mother told me I’d find the one that would own my heart. I didn’t expect it to be like this. This was how it happened in the movies. Movie structure was formulaic. In the movies, you had the set up, which was how I was feeling now… the who, what, where, when of the movie. Then we’d get to the end of Act I, and there would be a shift of story. A little later we would be “mid-point” the story would be all clear, or so the audience would be led to believe. Then the start of the third act, then a third act twist and then, and only then, we’d get to ride off into the sunset. Typical screenplay rhythm. Start at a down, up by first act, down by mid-point, up by third act, down at twist and up at the end. But I didn’t want the ups and downs. I needed to avoid the ups and downs. I only wanted the ups.
CHAPTER 12
I looked myself over in the bedroom mirror feeling comfy in a long-sleeved, fuchsia t-shirt, with a black short-sleeved shirt over that and white denim jacket on top, with a nice pair of dark wash jeans on bottom. I loved the white, pink and black color combination. I left my hair up afraid of how it would look if I let it down after the day of being wrapped up in a bun. I could either get soft waves, or big, kinked hair. I generally preferred to flat iron my frizzy hair, but there wasn’t any time for that. I also felt like I could have totally used a shower at this point. Again, no time so I opted for a good spritz of my Vanilla Flower perfume by Henri Bendel. I touched up my makeup and took a deep breath before heading back into the living room where I’d left Chase with a water bottle.
Chase Smythe is in my living room!!!! I screamed in my head. I had my head on his shoulder on the drive to my apartment. He was in my apartment. I started to get a little light headed again. I had half a mind to walk out to the living room and pour myself a rum and Coke with the booze my mom had left behind in the apartment, but with Chase in my midst, I needed all my wits about me. He was clearly a player, and I was clearly his next target. I looked at the clock and noticed that we had just over an hour to eat and get to the boathouse for his second shoot today. The one that would keep us out until one in the morning. I took a steadying breath, and opened the bedroom door.
And there he was. Reclined on the sofa, spread out, taking up all the space… not just on the sofa but in the whole room. He really was a sight to behold. His casual hair, framing his stunning eyes. His perfect stubble surrounding his delectable mouth. His presence charged the very air around him. I was actually afraid to step into the room and get electrocuted. Again.
“Mmmm, you look good enough to eat,” he said, sitting up.
I shot him a glare and walked over to the kitchen, grabbing a cold bottle of water out of the fridge. I cracked the bottle and drank down about half of it in one gulp. And there he was. I felt him standing behind me. This was a mistake. An absolutely, horrible mistake. He was thinking I led him here, to my apartment, because I wanted alone time! What did I do? I couldn’t let this happen? But if I used a self-defense move on him, like I’d learned before I left for college, I could really hurt the guy and he had to work.
“Your tag is hanging out,” he said. And before I could register what he said, his fingers, cool from clutching his own water bottle were at the base of my neck. But as cool as his fingers were, they left a burning sensation on my skin. He tucked in the tag of my shirt slowly and smoothed the fabric back down.
“There. All better,” he said. But it wasn’t just what he said. It was how he said it. It was breathy. It was quiet. It was loaded.
I turned to look at him, holding my water bottle in front of me like some eccentric self-defense device. “Thanks.” I looked at his face only inches from mine. He smelled so good standing so close to me. My ears were practically ringing with the vibrations ricocheting back and forth between Chase and me. It was an electrical storm brewing between the few inches between us.
He leaned to the side, resting his hip on the counter looking as cool as a cucumber, and took another swig from his water bottle. Great, I thought. He’s nowhere near as affected as I am. And now I’m making shit up in my head. His eyes were studying my face.
“You’re doing it again,” I warned him.
“Doing what?”
“I don’t know. But you’re doing it,” I insisted. How do I say, You’re making my panties wet with your eyes touching me!? “You’re crossing the line. You said we would keep things professional,” I insisted.
He let out a laugh that made my heart nearly burst. “My bad,” he said, putting his hands up defensively in front of him. “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. Just didn’t want you marching around Manhattan with your tag waving in the wind.”
“We should go,” I said, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Dinner, then the boathouse.”
“Your hair is prettier down,” he said, ignoring what I’d said.
“I didn’t have time to style it,” I quipped, brushing him off, and finishing my bottle of water.
He set his water bottle down and stepped up to me, practically touching. My heart pounded in my chest as his manly, spicy scent surrounded me and heat from his body scorched me. He reached behind my head and his fingers dove into my bun searching for the band that bound it. He found what he was looking for and, with great care he freed my hair from the elastic. He set the band down on the counter then his fingers went to work on the hair that had been wrapped up for the past twelve hours, fluffing and arranging it.
“Gorgeous,” he whispered, his right hand coming to rest on my neck, his thumb brushing along my jaw. I reached my hand up to my damp and wavy locks. My eyes lifted to his to find him checking out not just my hair but my whole face. When his eyes locked with mine, there was no escape. I heard his breath grow shallow and felt the warmth caress my face.
Swiftly, his hand scooped behind my neck as he brought my face to his, stopping with his lips a fraction of an inch from mine. “I’m sorry,” he whispered before pressing his lips to mine.
My head was spinning. This was not professional. He was sorry? I’m gorgeous? His lips were on mine. And without my permission, my body was responding… nipples puckering, stomach flipping, moisture pooling. My lips moved with his. I felt his tongue touch on my lower lip, causing me to whimper, but I didn’t pull back. I couldn’t pull back. In fact, I think I stepped forward—into him. This was far from professional, but it felt so good. As our tongues joined, gently, yet eagerly, exploring one another, vaguely, I became aware of his left hand as it came to my hip and started to slide upward. I felt as though I was burning up with a fever as his thumb came across my front and brushed my breast.
This is wrong. Chase is my job. I’m just a conquest
for him. But no matter how wrong this was, I couldn’t stop. He tasted of…licorice? His lips…his touch…his scent…his taste…all combined, rendering me helpless. My hands found their way to his back and slid upward along firm, vibrating muscles and I held onto his shoulders for dear life. It was like I’d been drugged with a roofie or something. Only, I knew exactly where I was and what I was doing and with whom.
Chase’s hand that was at my breast swept down and around my waist pulling me tighter into him, and the hand that had been firmly at the back of my neck was now clutched in my hair. He pulled my hair slightly, pulling my head back and tilting it slightly, sealing our mouths perfectly and deepening the kiss. He groaned into my mouth and urgently explored it as my tongue swirled about his. I was completely dizzy and as the arm that was encircled around my waist pulled me in tighter to Chase, and his hips were pressed into mine, I felt the hot and hard effect our kiss was having on him. One of my hands had ventured into his thick, soft hair. I softly fisted a handful, spurring Chase to press up harder against me and drop a hand to my ass and grip tightly.
I had kissed plenty of boys and was far from a virgin, having turned that card in the summer after I turned sixteen. But with all the guys I’d kissed, and the handful I’d slept with, I had never felt this. This all consuming need and hunger. I savored the heat that came off of him, his scent, and his taste as we tangled tongues and practically clawed at one another.
Suddenly a knock at the apartment door startled us and, panting roughly, I took a step back from the powerhouse before me. Chase looked downright frenzied. Dark. His breathing was as labored as mine, if not more. His lips redder from the mashing we’d been giving each other. My trembling hand went to my own lips that were still sizzling.
“Come in,” I called out, rubbing the moisture and vibration from my lips, attempting to erase the yearning that had been so violently spiked. My lips felt as though they had been kissing an electrical outlet, not a man. A gorgeous, famous man.
Chase shot me a strange look. “Do you even know who’s at the door?” he asked, his voice full of concern.
“We talked about this, Boots, your mom would not be happy if she heard that,” I heard a familiar male voice as the door opened.
I quickly scurried around Chase and moved around the breakfast bar to see Kevin coming up the short hallway at the front door to the apartment. His dress shirt was rolled up at the sleeves, his tie loosened. He was in his work clothes. He looked good.
“Hi Kevin. I’ve been meaning to call you. It’s been another crazy day.” Kevin and I met up and shared a quick hug. I glanced at Chase whose eyes had grown menacingly dark, and now he was sporting a scowl. I wrapped an arm around Kevin’s waist and brought him toward the tiny kitchen where Chase and his presence took up the entire space. “Kevin, this is Chase Smythe. I’m his personal assistant for this week and next…a crazy development with my internship. Chase, this is Kevin Parker. He’s my neighbor.”
Chase stepped forward and he and Kevin shook hands. I could see the cogs in Chase’s head turning. If I was reading things right, Chase thought Kevin and I were an item. Eureka! Maybe this way, Chase would keep his distance. I didn’t want lose my internship and I couldn’t afford another shitty relationship. Besides, Kevin and I could still hook-up. He was relationship material. Chase was not.
“Loved you in that film last year, Should I?” Kevin said.
“Oh, thanks man. It was a good job. No Oscar nods, but,” Chase shrugged.
“How do you do that? The accents? You must have used six in that film.”
“A gift,” Chase said, relaxing into his ‘fan mode’ that I’d witnessed several times over the past two days. Just like a switch with him. One minute he’s one thing, the next, something completely different.
“So, what’s the story, Phoebe?” Kevin asked, releasing my arm and heading in to sit on the small sofa, as if he were staking a claim on the room. “Your mother left two voicemails for me already.”
I followed Kevin into the living room, but sat in the oversized comfy chair instead. “No story, really. Yesterday I got assigned the honor of being Chase’s personal assistant. The paparazzi got some photos and Chase decided to play with the media on Jimmy Fallon last night. It’s just work,” I tried with my best nonchalant delivery, even though I was still completely rattled about it inside, and the recent kiss Chase and I just shared had very much to do with my rattled insides. I inhaled. I could smell Kevin, and God, did he smell good. Man and soap. I wondered what he smelled like good and sweaty. I glanced up at him and adored the way his hair, which was slightly longer in back, curled on his neck.
“Oh, never underestimate the accuracy of the paparazzi,” Chase interrupted, taking a seat on the opposite end of the sofa. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He folded his hands and extended his fingers. Lifting his hands and pointed fingers, he dragged those fingers along his lower lip deliberately and stared at me squarely in the eye. Oh those lips. The lips I could still feel pressed to mine. Inadvertently, I raised my hand and rubbed my own lips trying to squash the sizzle that still loomed. Chase grinned as if he was reading my mind.
I swallowed trying to assess the situation at hand. Chase was clearly throwing out messages. He was back to player mode, although I had to wonder if he’d ever left player mode.
“So, what do I say when your mom calls? And she will. What did you tell her?” Kevin continued, looking between Chase and me.
“I haven’t talked to her yet today. Like I said, it’s been busy. I’ll call her tomorrow. If she gets to you first, you can tell her it’s just media hype, that I’m fine, and nothing,” I said shooting a look at Chase, “is going on.”
Kevin continued to assess Chase’s posture and my own. I couldn’t tell if he believed me or not. Chase sat back and looked at me like I was an open book, and he already knew the ending. Feeling the pressure mounting, I sprang off my seat and went in search of the clipboard. Professional. Keep it professional. I double-checked the times and the clock.
“Chase, we have just less than an hour before you need to be back on set. Kevin, dinner this weekend? I’ll cook?” I offered him, flashing my most charming smile. “Chicken parm? Or I make this really fabulous roasted butternut squash and pancetta dish?”
“A home cooked meal? Saturday? I’m in. I’ll smooth your mother over, but please call her,” Kevin said, standing and walking over to me, Chase close behind him. The stark difference between the two was breathtaking. Chase’s light hair and vibrant blue eyes to Kevin’s almost black hair and dark green eyes. Kevin was a few inches taller than Chase, and more muscular. My mouth was watering at the sight of both of them, and they were both in my apartment. Of course, I’d only kissed one of them to this point, and it wasn’t even my choice.
“Speaking of dinner, where shall I take you to dinner tonight, Phoebs?” Chase interrupted, getting in on the game.
“I’m fine with whatever you want, Chase,” I said casually. I was not going to let him charm me. “So, Kevin—around seven?”
“Sounds good, Boots.” Kevin leaned in and gave a quick hug before heading to the door. Just before he left, he turned and looked at me and Chase, “Be good,” then he turned his eyes to me and said, “Be sure to lock your door, okay? It’s still New York.”
“Yeah, okay,” I replied sheepishly.
Kevin shot me a wink then headed out.
“So… Boots,” Chase said, his voice dripping with mockery. “What’s the story?”
“The story is, you’re going to be late to set, and it’s going to be my ass. Professional, Chase. Remember that.”
Oh, but what an ass you have Phoebe. Firm. And attached to the rest of that amazing body. The way she kissed. It was more than I could have imagined. There wasn’t any pretense to it. It was natural and unbridled. It was…terrifying. Here it was a solid ten minutes since there was the knock at the fucking door stopping that kiss, and my heart was still beating irregularly on my ribcag
e from the inside. My lips could still feel her soft lips and tongue. My nose still held her soft floral and vanilla scent. My hands were still vibrating from touching her body, her breast, and her ass.
And Boots? What kind of nickname is that for someone like Phoebe? Phoebe was… she was… What was she? Why was I letting any of this get to me? And I’d gotten sucked into some weird pissing match with that southern guy. But somehow, his familiarity with Phoebe, nicknames, and talk of dinner had me aiming to jump higher and run faster.
CHAPTER 13
Once we were in the car, Chase told the driver an address and we were off. He sat back and looked me over.
“What?” I sighed heavily. I was so tired already, and he was going to keep up with his player-ways, I was sure of it.
“Just trying to figure Kevin out. You won’t tell me, so I’m making up a story in my head, right now.”
“Oh, this ought to be good,” I groaned and sat back, folding my arms in front of me.
“Well, I don’t think he’s your lover, because if he were, he would have walked in on us and lost his mind. We had that room pretty charged up—”
“Chase…” I cautioned.
“What? It was the truth. And I did apologize.” Yes he did. Before we kissed, which was odd. But I chose not to address it. He continued. “He talked about your mom. So, I’m thinking he’s a family friend of some sort. You seemed to want me to think otherwise, and I can’t figure out why.”
Shit! “Well, if you must know, we’ve actually been out on three dates,” I asserted. “Last month, he took me to a Luke Bryan concert. He, Kevin, is a phenomenal dancer! What he can do in a tiny space would probably even make you blush.” I don’t know why I felt the need to push Chase’s buttons, but I did. And I liked it. “Then we had dinner Friday night—out, and Sunday night—in. Pizza and a movie in his apartment.”
Chasing the Dream: Dream Series, Book 3 Page 9
