by Sybil Bartel
“What?” She bit her bottom lip.
I fucking jumped. “I want you to come back to Miami with me, no matter what the results are.”
She frowned. “Why?”
Inhaling, I said to her what I’d never said to another woman. “Because I want you to move in with me.”
Perfectly still, her eyes so clear, the blue was translucent, her blonde hair falling down her back and over her shoulders in a just-slept mess, she was so damn gorgeous and innocent, she made my chest hurt. But she was also strong-willed, sexy and infuriating, and the thought of letting her go made me want to crush shit with my bare hands.
So when she didn’t say shit in response, my jaw ticked and my nostrils flared. “If you’re not interested, tell me now.”
MY HEART IN MY THROAT, I couldn’t even swallow.
Falcon “Tank” Gunther, an impossible, uncompromising beast of a man in bed and out, had spent ten days looking for me… so he could ask me to move in with him?
“Fine,” he growled, lifting me off him like I weighed nothing and setting me on the bed.
“You want me to move in with you?” I asked, dumbfounded.
“I asked,” he grunted, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “But you’re not fucking answering.”
Oh my God.
Oh my God.
He was nervous.
“But the whole thing with Miami Morning.” My cheeks flamed in embarrassment and my voice got quiet. “Everything I said. Everything you know about my past.”
He looked at me, and as if he were allowing it, allowing me to see his emotions, I watched his expression change.
He looked at me with more patience than anyone ever had. “Your past wasn’t your fault. It doesn’t change a single damn second of this dialog, or have any influence on what I’m asking. I’m not gonna lie and say I don’t want to put your brother six feet under, but that doesn’t change shit between me and you. Understand?”
I nodded, too anxious to feel relief. “But Miami Morning… I said—”
“I know what you said.” He studied me for a moment. “I get why you thought you didn’t have a choice.”
“I didn’t. He said he had footage of us.” I had to protect him from that.
Tank nodded. “He did, and your lawyer took care of it. But if he hadn’t, I would’ve.” He leveled me with a look. “You don’t need to protect me. I know how to stay out of the tabloids.”
Suddenly, I was miserable. “If you’re around me, you’re not going to be able to avoid it.”
He stared at me for a long moment. “You done being in the spotlight?”
I let out a humorless half laugh. “I’m in dozens of films. I don’t know if I’ll ever be done being in the spotlight.” I mean, eventually I would. The popularity of my films would wear off, but I didn’t know when.
He didn’t say anything.
I cocked my head as something occurred to me. “You don’t act like most men do around me.”
He held my gaze. “Good.”
“Have you ever seen any of my films?”
“No.”
No hesitation, no emotion in his answer, I felt like I was missing something. I made a joke. “You don’t like chick flicks?”
“I don’t do movies.”
I tried to hide my shock. I wasn’t upset he’d never seen my movies, in fact, I think I preferred it. “Ever?”
The one time my mother had taken me and James to see a movie when we were kids, it’d changed my life. After the movie, I’d told my mother that I wanted to be an actress when I grew up. Little did I know at the time how that one statement would change my life.
A few years after my first movie, I realized I should’ve probably thanked my mother for my career, but she hadn’t given me to the casting agent out of love. She’d wanted to get rid of me.
Falcon shook his head once. “No.”
“Why not?” I asked the question, but never in a million years could I have predicted his answer.
“Four tours in Afghanistan cured me of ever wanting to sit in a dark room with flashing lights and loud noises.”
My heart broke for him at the same time as it swelled with the knowledge that he’d trusted me enough to share that. But more, I was humbled by the sacrifices he’d made. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “Thank you for telling me.”
He tipped his chin in acknowledgement.
I suddenly remembered there hadn’t been a TV in his bedroom. “Do you listen to music?”
He shook his head. “Not much time for it in the Marines. Never picked up the habit.”
“Of course.” I felt like an idiot. “What do you like to do in your downtime?”
He rubbed a hand over his face and closed his eyes as he exhaled. Then he leaned over, grabbed a book out of his bag and set it on my lap.
I picked it up. “An encyclopedia of hand guns? Should I be worried?”
“You think I don’t know how to use a gun?”
“No, I mean of course not, you were in the military.”
“The Marines,” he corrected.
“So you know about guns.”
“Yeah.”
“Then why read about them?”
“Downtime. You asked.” He took the book back and put it in his bag. “You done with acting?”
“I am.” I was. I didn’t have to think about it. “Despite being around my family the past seven days, it wasn’t all bad. I love Peony and being on the farm, and not putting on costumes or makeup or trying to remember lines. It’s a simpler life, and I was missing that.”
“That’s what you want? A simple life?”
The way he gave me all of his attention, the way he asked pointed questions without any preamble, I liked it. I more than liked it. But he also made me feel incredibly shy. “Simple would be good. Perfect, in fact.” I looked away and noticed the time on the clock on the nightstand. Shoot. “What about you?”
He didn’t answer.
Seven minutes past the top of the hour. I looked up.
His voice turned to liquid sex. “You know what I want.”
Oh God. I wanted him so bad in that moment, but I had to tell him. “I need to show you something,” I blurted, glancing back at the clock.
His intense gaze followed mine to the nightstand, then cut back to me and his eyes narrowed. “What?”
The interview was airing today, and it’d already started. I glanced at the clock again, then I reached for the TV remote.
“You’re turning on the TV?” he asked as his cell rang.
“Just bear with me.” I fiddled with the remote.
Eyeing me, he answered his phone. “What?”
I tuned in the network that carried the most popular afternoon TV host. Maybe the most popular TV host ever. She’d been doing her hour-long show for decades, and everyone who was anyone in Hollywood had been interviewed by her.
Knowing what I’d needed to do ten days ago, I’d used Colton’s phone before I left his hotel, and I’d called the famous TV host.
“Yeah,” Tank said into the phone as he stared at me. “Copy that.” He hung up. “When were you going to tell me about the interview?” he accused.
“Just…” I bit my lip and turned the volume up. “Just listen. Please.”
I was wearing the silk blouse Tank had picked out for me to wear to the hospital as I sat in the hotel suite Gerri Johanna had flown on her private jet to meet me at halfway between Miami and Iowa. I looked small and shell-shocked, and she looked as put together and professional as she always did.
“To all of our fans who are just tuning in after the commercial break, we have a very special airing of the Gerri Johanna Show today. We’re here with Dreena MacKenzie in a secret location, because as you can imagine, the press surrounding her recent events has been quite the spectacle.” Gerri looked at me. “Thank you for meeting with me, Dreena. I’m honored you chose me to help share your story.”
“Thank you for having me, Gerri, especially und
er these special circumstances.”
Gerri nodded. “Before the last commercial break, we talked about the incident on the beach, but now I would like to hear about your appearance on Miami Morning in your own words.”
His expression like stone, Tank glanced at me.
“Just watch,” I whispered.
“Well…” I pushed my hair behind my ear. It was a nervous gesture I hadn’t even realized I’d done when we’d been recording. I’d practiced for years to break that habit. “It was a difficult time. I was still reeling from the incident at Club Frenzy and my subsequent beach streaking, but more, I was in a position I’ve never been in before.” I looked up at camera. “I was falling in love. But I didn’t understand the feelings at the time. I thought it wasn’t possible, and frankly, I was pushing through with my plan to leave acting. I decided a few years back that I needed an end goal. I’ve been so incredibly blessed to be in this industry and to have the unimaginable success I’ve had. I’ve been more than fortunate, and I am so very grateful. But I’ve also thought for a while that it’s been past time to step down and let someone else take the spotlight. I was ready to move on to the next phase of my life. I just never expected all of these events to come crashing together and coincide at once.
“Frankly, I panicked when Jonathan on Miami Morning said he had footage of me from the previous day. The only person I had been in the company of was the one person I wanted to protect from the spotlight.”
My recorded self looked directly at the camera. “I’m so very sorry for the false things I said, and about the implications toward Mr. Gunther, and for the ramifications to his employer, Luna and Associates. I take full responsibility for everything I said, and I would like everyone to know that I made it up.”
“It sounds like you were under quite a bit of stress all around,” Gerri said sympathetically.
“I was, but it was no excuse for my behavior and I apologize.”
Gerri smiled. “Would you like to talk about the special man in your life?”
I cringed at the image of myself on TV forcing a nervous laugh. “No, I would not.” My face fell. “And unfortunately, things did not work out how I had hoped.”
“I’m so sorry,” Geri said with the trademark sincerity that had made her a favorite of both her fans and the people she interviewed.
“Yes, well.” I looked at the camera and smiled a screen-worthy smile. “I would like to thank my studio, my agent, my publicist, and most importantly, all my fans over the years who came to see my movies. I will be forever grateful.” I looked back at Geri. “And thank you, Geri, for meeting with me and airing my story.”
“You are most welcome, Dreena.”
The show cut to commercial.
I turned off the TV and looked at the man who was too good for me. “I’m sorry.”
Without a word, he reached into the cargo pocket on his pants, pulled out a box, and set it on the bed.
I looked at the box.
An early response pregnancy test.
“When did you get that?”
“When I got you the ginger ale,” he answered, no intonation in his voice.
My stomach in knots, a slew of thoughts ran through my head, but all of them were wrong. I shouldn’t want to be pregnant. I shouldn’t want to be tied to a stranger. I shouldn’t want a man who bossed me around and took no prisoners.
But I did.
I wanted him.
I wanted the man who fucked me like a warrior, then held me in his arms and made slow love to me like he couldn’t get enough. I wanted the man who stared at me and gave me all of his attention, not because I was famous, but because he was just being himself. I wanted the man who’d spent ten days relentlessly looking for me. And I wanted the alpha ex-Marine who was man enough to tell me he would take care of me and his baby.
I wanted the man I felt safe with.
I wanted Falcon Gunther in every way a woman could want a man.
But I was terrified to take that pregnancy test.
What if I wasn’t pregnant? What if what he’d said about wanting me to move in with him no matter what was a lie? What if he changed his mind? What if I was pregnant and he was only with me out of honor?
I stared at the pink-and-white box, then I did something I’d never done with anyone. I admitted my fears. “I’m scared.”
With all of the practicality I was beginning to realize was pure Falcon Gunther, he gave me four realistic words. “What’s done is done.”
I looked up at him. “I shouldn’t want it to be positive.”
He met my gaze and held me captive in his green-brown stare. “Neither should I.”
Oh God. “So… you’re saying—”
“I want you pregnant, Audrina.”
I loved hearing him call me that, but I had to be honest. “You know that’s not my real name.”
“You legally changed it?”
“Well, my first agent did, but yeah…” I half laughed. He was right, what was done, was done. “Audrina MacKenzie is my legal name now.”
“You prefer Magnolia?”
The name sounded strange and foreign coming from his lips, and I realized I wasn’t Magnolia Audrina Jensen. I hadn’t been for a long time. That girl died ten years ago. I may not be the Dreena MacKenzie anymore, but I was Audrina MacKenzie.
“No.” I shook my head. “I don’t prefer it at all.”
“Any other secrets you’re hiding?”
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was fighting a smile. “No. What about you?”
“What you see is what you get.”
I didn’t only doubt that, I knew he was full of it. “You’re so full of shit.”
The corner of his mouth tipped up as he smirked. “Get your ass in the bathroom and piss on the goddamn stick.”
My stomach bottomed out. “Oh?” I raised my eyebrows to try to cover the soul-crushing jealousy I was suddenly drowning in. “Sounds like you have experience with how this works.”
His expression turned deadly serious. “I never fucked a woman without a condom before you because this is the exact situation I was trying to avoid.”
Cautious relief spread through my veins, but I still questioned him. “Then how do you know what to do?”
“I read the back of the box.” He gave me a challenging look. “I can fucking read, sweetheart. I’m not just a dick with muscles.”
Oh my God. “I wasn’t implying you were stupid.”
He half smiled again, and my heart melted. “Just giving you shit, babe. Come on.” He stood and snatched the box off the bed. “You and me got a date with a stick and a toilet.” Quick and agile, he scooped me off the bed.
“Wait!” Holy shit. “I’m not peeing in front of you.”
Shaking his head, he looked down at me as he took two strides toward the bathroom. “You think I’ve never seen a woman take a piss before?” He set me down in front of the toilet and opened the box.
The jealousy came back tenfold.
When I didn’t say anything, he set the box down and looked at me. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” It was a knee-jerk response, but I didn’t want to tell him that thinking about him with other women made me want to curl in a ball and cry.
“It’s not nothing, but I can’t address what I don’t fucking know.”
“You swear a lot.”
“Get used to it. I’m a Marine.”
“I didn’t think you were active duty anymore.”
“I’m not. Once a Marine, always a Marine. Now quit stalling and tell me what the hell made you upset.”
That was all it took. My words came out like vomit. “I have no idea if you’ve ever seen another woman use the toilet, because I don’t know you. But for the record, I don’t want to think about what you have or haven’t done with other women. It makes my stomach hurt and my eyes well, and frankly, it makes me feel a little stabby and a whole lot jealous.” The more I said, the more shit spilled out. “So I don’t w
ant to ever hear you say ‘you think I haven’t done this with a woman,’ or ‘you think I haven’t done that with another woman,’ or a dozen women, or shit, the way you fuck, hundreds of women.” I threw my hands up. “I can’t even think about that. I don’t want to think about that. Ever, ever, EVER.” I sucked in a breath. “Not even if this stupid test is negative and you leave me for some other woman who actually is pregnant with your child, and then you see me again, alone and hoarding cats and snacking on bacon—even then. Do not tell me about other women.” I glared at him. “Ever.”
His smile was wide and full and so devastating, I kinda hated him. “Copy that.” He leaned down and gave me a soul-crushingly sweet kiss on my cheek before whispering in my ear. “Piss on the stick, gorgeous. I need to know if I’ve got my work cut out for me.”
Before I could catch my breath, he stood to his full height, pivoted and left the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
“Holy shit,” I whispered, leaning against the sink for support.
I HEARD HER CUSS THROUGH the bathroom door.
Shaking my head, I fucking laughed.
“This isn’t funny!” Her voice muffled, I still heard the trace of fear in it.
I pushed the door open.
She jumped and dropped the box.
I picked it up and stepped into her personal space. “Not a joke to me, babe.”
“I know.” She looked anywhere but at me.
I tipped her chin. “I’m not gonna let you go through anything alone.”
“There isn’t anything to go through.”
There was a fucking pregnancy test on the counter. I stared at her, silently calling her on her bullshit.
She snatched up the box. “Fine. Point made.”
I touched my lips to her forehead and reiterated my promise. “Not alone.” Stepping back, I turned toward the door.
“How’d you know?”
I looked over my shoulder at her. “Know what?”
Looking vulnerable as fuck, she shrugged like this wasn’t a loaded fucking conversation. “How I feel… about being alone.”
I was an eighteen-year-old kid shooting an M4 in Afghanistan before she was making movies. I had my brothers downrange, she had her costars, but the irony wasn’t lost on me that we both flew solo. This shit, her and I, it was the last thing I was looking for. But standing here, I didn’t want to be anyplace else.
