Captivate, book I of the Love & Lust

by Miles, Amy

  Her work ethics might differ greatly from Ashlyn’s, but Tamsin gets the job done and that’s all that matters. There’s a lot riding on the success of Ender’s Betrayal. It’s the final book of Tamsin’s three-book deal, and if there is any chance of her extending that deal, this book needs to explode off the shelves.

  Glancing over at Slade, she wonders for the thousandth time if they made a terrible mistake. Even though he looks the part and Tamsin claims he was perfect at the book launch party two nights ago, Ashlyn still has her doubts. And those doubts need to be voiced before they arrive in L.A.

  She leans across the aisle to poke him in the side. He stirs and grunts before rolling away. She frowns, thankful that at least he’s no longer snoring like a freight train.

  Even in first-class accommodation, the airline seats are far from comfortable. She can’t figure out how he’s managed to sleep as deeply as he has.

  Ashlyn has never slept on one of these flights. She’s not particularly comfortable with being forty thousand feet in the air with zero control over her own fate. Sophie always has a speech prepared to give her the stats on how safe it is to fly compared to driving, but that usually goes in one ear and out the other when Ashlyn steps foot onto a plane.

  The lunch cart came and went over an hour ago. She hardly managed to eat anything and if asked, she couldn’t begin to tell you how her meal tasted.

  Within a couple of hours, the stewardess will return with a light snack before the plane lands in Chicago. Ashlyn isn’t looking forward to the three-hour layover before they board yet another plane bound for sunny California.

  She can’t stand airports. The manic rush to get checked in followed by the sardine lines herding through security. Even being a first class flyer doesn’t mean you don’t stand in line. It’s just a tad shorter than the other, but no less uncomfortable.

  On her trip to London a couple weeks ago, she nearly had a meltdown when she was pulled aside for a security check. The scanner actually flagged the young boy that went before her, but since the mother was harried with two small children, Ashlyn was chosen to endure the random spot check.

  If only there were a tunnel connecting America with London. That would make her life infinitely more comfortable.

  Slade’s loud snore wakes him with a start. He blinks, eyes widening when he finds her staring at him. He blows out a breath and rubs sleep from his eyes. “I gotta say, Ashlyn, no matter how I look at this, I’m a bit creeped out right now.”

  “Likewise,” she says and turns back to her laptop. She flips off the page she was working on and switches to solitaire. She finds the old-school card game to be relaxing on international flights. It helps her decompress.

  She’s been too stressed recently. The London expo went off without a hitch, but that’s only the first stop. So many things could still go wrong. Delayed flight, lost luggage, shipment of books misplaced… Ashlyn’s mind is a whirlwind of doubts.

  Not to mention the pressure Sophie has had on her back for Tamsin’s book to perform. So far, all of the reviews have come back with four stars or above. Ashlyn is pleased with that response, but she’s still not sure it will be enough for Sophie to squeeze out another book deal.

  What if Tamsin’s race to fame comes to an abrupt end?

  Slade groans, stretching his arms over his head before sinking back down into his seat. “Rough night?” Ashlyn asks, selecting a two of clubs to shift three rows over without glancing at him.

  “The party went late.”

  She turns to look at him. “Why do I get the feeling there’s more to that statement you’re not sharing?”

  He gives an innocent shrug and rubs his stomach. He leans over his armrest to search for a stewardess, but the aisles are empty. The on-flight movie has already begun and most people have settled into a mid-flight daze. “What’s a guy gotta do around here to get a decent meal?”

  “Be awake when it’s time to eat,” she shoots back. Her eyes travel rapidly over the screen, the mouse following each movement.

  “Are you always this cranky on long flights?”

  Ashlyn sighs and closes the lid of her laptop before shifting around as far as the seat will allow her to face him. “No, but I can’t say that I’m all that thrilled to see you sporting a hangover or snoring through a day flight. It’s a good thing Sophie isn’t here or she might have put you on a flight straight back home.”

  “I’m fine,” he says, opening his mouth as he yawns. “Just needed a catnap is all.”

  She knows better than that. A catnap doesn’t make you sleep like the dead. Slade is obviously exhausted and for good reason.

  “Just promise me you won’t go out tonight. I need you looking in top form for the signing.”

  “You need me?” he questions, leaning over the armrest.

  Ashlyn stiffens as he draws near. Lowering her gaze so she doesn’t get lost in his eyes, she scrunches up her nose. “You don’t have to make it sound quite like that.”

  Slade laughs and sits back. He crosses his legs out in front of him and slouches low, tucking the pillow behind his head. “Maybe I like the way that sounds.”

  She’s sure he can hear her gulp as she turns away and lets her veil of hair come between them. She fights to calm her breathing, but there’s nothing she can do about the hammering in her chest. Did he really just say that? What does he even mean anyway? Am I reading too much into it?

  These thoughts plague her over the next hour as Slade sweet talks a meal out of the pretty blond stewardess. She flips through one of the airline magazines, realizing she’s been stuck on the same page only when Slade begins to chuckle.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” He crosses his arms over his chest. A smug grin tugs at his lips as he watches her out of the corner of his eye. “It’s just that I didn’t know you were so interested in self-cleaning cat pans.”

  Glancing down at the book, Ashlyn groans when she sees the massive advertisement. She closes the magazine and stuffs it back into the elastic holder. “I’ve got a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

  “Of course.” He nods. She can tell he’s struggling not to laugh at her.

  “It’s true.” She protests.

  “Oh, I’m sure it is. The life of a personal assistant to a famous big shot author must be tiring.”

  Ashlyn purses her lips. “You’re mocking me.”

  Slade grins and shifts to look at her. “Tell me something, do you buy into all of that stuff Tamsin writes.”

  She frowns, unsure of what exactly he’s referring to. Obviously, Slade isn’t the most well-read person she’s ever met, and he doesn’t seem like the biggest romantic either, but he certainly seems to know a thing or two about putting women on edge, and that is something Tamsin loves to write about.

  Reaching into the space beside his chair, Slade pulls out a copy of Liam’s Betrayal. The cover is bent in places and the pages rippled with slight water damage, but the binding has hardly been broken in. “I’ve read some of this book, and I don’t get it. Why do women like to read this rubbish?”

  Ashlyn can feel her back teeth grinding. “It’s not rubbish. It’s a love story.”

  He laughs as he sets the book in his lap. “A love story, huh? Well, there was certainly a lot of love happening in chapter three!”

  Ashlyn’s mouth drops open. She tries to speak, to form some sort of coherent thought, but it’s impossible. She’s all too familiar with the elevator scene to which he refers in chapter three, and it is not one that she would like to hash out with him.

  He must love torturing me, she inwardly groans as she presses her hand to her forehead to check and see if she’s as flushed as she feels.

  “Now don’t get me wrong.” He presses on, oblivious to her growing discomfort. “There was quite a lot about that scene that I enjoyed, but there was just something off about it.”

  She glances over at him, surprised to see him actually mulling it over. “How so?”

  He taps his c
hin before speaking. “This is marketed as a love book, but it seems more like a smut book. They meet, they shag like rabbits, and she moves on to the next guy. That’s not love.”

  Ashlyn finds herself leaning toward him. “Go on.”

  “Well…” He clears his throat. He averts his gaze and she wonders if this topic might not only be uncomfortable for her. “When I was growing up, my dad skipped out on us. He said, ‘I’m going out for a paper,’ and never came home. I watched my mom cry for months after that.”

  His begins to tap his fingers against the book cover in his lap. “I used to lie awake at night wondering where he was, what he might be doing. It never dawned on me that he wasn’t coming back. Then, a few years later, we got word that Dad had filed for divorce so he could shack up with another lady and her kids. I don’t think Mum ever forgave him for it. I know I sure didn’t.”

  “That’s awful,” Ashlyn whispers. She didn’t exactly have the best childhood either, but at least she never had a guy in her life to start with.

  Slade’s fingers stop tapping as he grips the binding. “Before Dad left, I knew what real love was like. It meant picnics on Sunday after church as a family or fishing down at the quarry. Dad used to chase Mum around the kitchen table, swatting at her with a dishtowel, while he washed up after dinner. She used to have this glow about her that lit up her entire face…” He trails off, no longer looking at her, but beyond her.

  “My mum used to be happy and I had the chance to see that, even if it was only for a few years.” He turns his gaze back onto her and she’s rocked by the depths of pain in his eyes. “This book isn’t about love. It’s about greed and sex, nothing more.”

  Ashlyn doesn’t know what to say to that as he bends over and replaces the book. When he sits up, he finds her still staring at him. “Have you ever been in love?”

  She blinks, shocked by the question. “No.”

  “Me either.” He slowly unravels the wires that connect his earbuds to his iPhone. “But when I do, I hope I can make her smile just like my old man used to.”

  As he plugs in his headphones, Ashlyn bites her lip as she wonders if he fears commitment because of his father’s faults. Is that where the chip on his shoulder stems from? Is he too afraid to let anyone in for fear of having them walk right back out on him?

  Eleven

  Slade kicks up his feet and tucks his hands behind his head, lounging in the most beautiful suite he’s ever seen. The Egyptian cotton sheets feel like silk as he shifts to sink lower in the bed. The 65-inch TV before him blares loudly, giving him updates on yesterday’s football scores. Chelsea won 2-1 against Manchester United. Score!

  From where he lies, he can see directly into the spacious bathroom. He was delighted to discover that the limestone floors are heated and the spa tub has a built-in TV so he can watch a game later.

  “Now this is the dog’s bollocks.” He sighs, closing his eyes. How did he ever get so lucky?

  He turns his head to look out onto the large private patio. The view of the canyon is spectacular from out there. A long, low fireplace runs along the edge of the patio, leading to a cluster of wicker outdoor chairs and loungers. To top it all off is the spa pool just for him, or Tamsin and a few friends.

  Slade laughs and pushes up from the bed. He still can’t believe all of this is just for him. The space feels larger than his mother’s entire two-bed loft just outside of London.

  He glances toward the clock and is shocked to find it’s only two in the afternoon, but it feels like he should be heading to bed. It will take a while for him to get used to the time change.

  Popping his knuckles, Slade looks around his room. His gaze lands on the room service book. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to order something small,” he muses, feeling a bit peckish after the long flight.

  With each new page he flips through, Slade’s smile broadens. Using the handheld phone on the bedside table, he places his order. He grabs the remote and flicks through the channels while he waits.

  Nearly twenty minutes later, he rises to answer a knock at his door. “Just bring it on in—” He cuts off when he sees Ashlyn’s quizzical expression. “Oh, sorry. I thought you were room service.”

  Her frown settles into place. “We’re having dinner in the restaurant downstairs in a couple of hours.”

  Slade nods and leaps back into the bed. “I know. This was just a small snack.”

  Ashlyn sighs and sits down in one of the white chairs in the sitting area. Slade turns up the volume on his show and gets comfortable on the bed. He watches Ashlyn from the corner of his eye, curious as to why she’s in his room and why she isn’t speaking.

  “Is there something you wanted?”

  “I figured since we had some free time, we could go over our schedule.”

  “Really? Have you even stopped to see the view outside? It’s gorgeous and you want to talk shop. Do you only think about business?”

  “Usually.” She opens her laptop and types in a password. Searching through her files, she finds the itinerary for their trip.

  “That must be a drag.” He yawns and pauses the TV. Might as well get this over with, he thinks as he slips off the edge of his bed and saunters over to sit in the armchair across from her. He props his feet on the coffee table and laces his fingers together over his chest. “Bore away.”

  “If I don’t keep us on schedule, this whole trip will fall apart,” she states matter-of-factly. He can tell he struck a nerve. “Tamsin is hard enough to keep an eye on. I don’t need to add you to my list too.”

  Slade blows out a slow breath, his gaze shifting for a second before he snaps his fingers. “I’ve just figured it out. You’re one of those super control freaks that can’t stand to not boss people around.”

  Ashlyn’s hands fall still over the keyboard. “I’m organized. There’s a difference.”

  “Oh no.” He laughs, shaking his head. He pokes his finger at her. “You’ve got workaholic written all over you. It’s seeping from your pretty little pores!”

  She sighs heavily and turns to face him. “Is there a point to all of this?”

  He glances back to the mound of pillows adorning his bed, thinking yet again how it would be big enough to fit three people nicely. Or two. He stifles a chuckle when he glances over at Ashlyn, wondering if she’d be up for a little roll in the sack. Judging by the firm set of her lips, probably not. “You’re not the only one who notices things.”

  He grins when she shifts uncomfortably in her chair. Apparently the thought of him paying attention to her annoys her, and if he’s not mistaken, it excites her just a little bit too.

  She clears her throat and tucks her hair back behind her ear. Slade assume a more apt expression as she begins rattling off details. “Right, so first off, we’re in L.A. for two nights. The book signing will be held here at the Hotel Bel-Air. It’s a very nice luxury hotel so please treat it as such.”

  “Hey.” Slade bristles. “I’m not a heathen, you know.”

  She looks over the top of her glasses at him but says nothing. “The second stop will be at the Bellagio in Las Vegas. Then we’re off to Chicago, New York, and then back to London. The next two weeks will be the best of your life, I dare say, but they will also be tiring. You will work long hours, feel like your lips are going to fall off from all of the smiling, and you’ll be tempted in countless ways to screw this up. Don’t.”

  Slade leans forward to fluff the pillow behind him. “I’ve got this.”

  “I certainly hope so. A lot is riding on the successful release of this book. It’s not just your head on the chopping block.”

  His smile falters slightly. He remembers hearing the concern in her voice when they spoke about this on the day they went shopping on Oxford Street. “I’m here to do a job, Ashlyn. I promise I won’t muck it up.”

  She pauses for a second before smiling hesitantly. “Thank you. I know Tamsin doesn’t come across as being a worrywart like me, but she has her own things to worry abo
ut.”

  Slade seriously doubts that. Tamsin doesn’t seem to have much on her mind other than having a good time, and from what he can tell, she’s an expert at that.

  “Well, thanks for the update. I’ll be sure to add all of that to my schedule book.” He pushes up off the seat and heads back to his bed. He flops down onto the soft mattress and grabs the remote to hit play.

  It takes just under a full minute for Ashlyn’s cheeks to redden and her mouth to gape open with shock. “Are you… are you watching porn?”

  Slade grins. “Of course. It’s the only thing good on the telly at this time of day.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Do you ever act your age?”

  He pauses the movie and swings his legs over the bed. “What exactly do you think guys my age do, love? We fart, burp, and watch porn.”

  Her lips curl with disgust so fast it makes him laugh. “We may be cute on the outside, but at the end of the day, we’re still guys.”

  Ashlyn’s revulsion seems to lessen and is replaced by incredulity. “You know, I think you’re far more like Ender than you realize.”

  “Why? Does he like porn too?” Slade snorts. He might actually like this guy if he were a real person.

  Her frown melts into a smirk that almost borderlines smug. “Oh no, he gets plenty of action on his own.”

  “And you think I don’t?” He rises off the bed and approaches her. She backs away, fighting to not look below his chin.

  He knows she finds him appealing. He could tell from the way she watched him the day they spent shopping on Oxford Street. Her blush became a permanent stain as he modeled countless outfits just to get a rise out of her.

  It’s the way she notices him but tries not to that he finds most attractive. He supposes under her T-shirt and jeans, her usual boring attire, there’s probably something rather pretty, but she’s always far too serious for his taste. He likes to have a good time with a girl, but Ashlyn Doyle is focused twenty-four-seven.

  He stops only a couple feet from her and plants his hands on his hips. He watches as she swallows and tries to hold his direct gaze, but, just as he knew she would, she backs down.