Swinging On A Star

by Olivia Jaymes

  Alana? Fuck.

  Sighing, he rubbed the back of his neck where a pain was beginning to make itself known. For the millionth time he wondered how he had ended up marrying a woman like Alana.

  Right. His dick.

  “Unfortunately for you, Gemma, that is pure fabrication. None of my assistants prior to you have received any roles of note because of their employment with me.”

  Gemma shook her head. “No, she said that they’re on their way to big things. She said she’d get me an audition with Guillermo Del Toro.”

  Christ. This was a fucking mess.

  “Alana can’t even get herself an audition with Del Toro. I’m sorry you believed her.”

  His non-crying assistant now had fat tears sliding down her face as she took off those oversized glasses to wipe her eyes. “I can’t believe this. I did everything she asked me to do.”

  Scraping a hand down his face, Max gave a half groan and half sigh. “So you never wanted to be an assistant and see the other side of the business?”

  That’s what she had told him in the interview. He really needed to pay more attention in those things.

  “No,” she answered in the most forlorn tone. With black mascara streaks on her cheeks, Gemma looked sad indeed. “I’ve always wanted to be a star.”

  She kept saying star. Not actress, which made Max wonder if it was the lights and glamour she was interested in more than the work of deconstructing a character and then bringing them to life for an audience.

  “What exactly did Alana ask you to do?”

  Max had his suspicions but he wanted to be sure when he threw this all up in Alana’s face. Per their prenuptial, a stunt like this was going to cost her.

  Sniffling, Gemma wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Keep track of where you were all the time and let her know. Keep her informed of meetings with future directors and producers, plus interviews and public appearances. And Carrie, of course.”

  What had just seemed like a pain in the ass before was now something far different. Anger built inside of him, making his temples pound painfully.

  “Carrie? What about her?”

  Gemma had retreated to a metal folding chair and she shifted in it, uncomfortable with the question. “Watch her. What she’s doing and where she’s going.”

  That shit stopped today.

  “Tyler Gaylord.”

  He didn’t phrase it as a question. He knew for sure.

  Tears started all over again. “I’m friends with Gaylord’s stylist and she overheard him making plans to get a key from Amy and Mike. We had a drink and she told me about it. I already knew that Carrie was having lunch with Amy that day.”

  He gritted his teeth and wondered what Gemma said to other people about him. “And you told Alana?”

  She nodded, sobbing pitifully into her shirt. “Are you going to sack me?”

  Gemma had to be kidding. What did she want? An Employee of the Month plaque?

  “What do you think I should do?”

  She looked up, her eyes red-rimmed. “I think you should help me get an acting job. You’re a huge star and have a lot of clout.”

  Max was fucking sick and tired of people – mostly women – wanting something from him, using him. Despite evidence to the contrary, he was a sensitive human being who wanted to be liked for himself. Too many relationships in his life were about what they could get from him.

  “If you want to be a star,” he began and Gemma’s eyes lit up with hope. “Then you need to be ready to work hard and make your own opportunities.”

  Her smile immediately turned down.

  “I started at the bottom and worked my way up,” he continued. “I took any job in theatre I could get, often working for free. I studied the craft and sought advice from those more experienced than myself. Even now I don’t rest on my laurels. I endeavor to make every performance better than the last. This profession isn’t about fame, Gemma, it’s about creation.”

  Standing, she slid the strap of her backpack over her shoulder. “You’re a selfish asshole. Alana was right. You won’t help anyone. I guess you’re afraid of the competition. Well, fuck you. When I’m a star I’ll ruin you, and I won’t rest until I do. You’ll wish you’d been nicer to me.”

  The young woman stomped out of the backstage area and hopefully out of the theatre. She had much to learn about the acting profession and if she wasn’t careful it was going to chew her up and spit her out. What she didn’t realize? He was trying to help her. He was happy to assist those who were putting in the work, busting their asses. But those only interested in Twitter followers and parties? They’d have to get there on their own.

  “And a lovely morning to you too,” he muttered, picking up the discarded tablet. If it worked it would be a miracle. He was due for one too. He pressed the on button and nothing happened. Zip. Nada. Zilch.

  His entire life was stuck in this hunk of plastic. Now what?

  * * *

  “Can you fix it?”

  Max hovered impatiently over Carrie’s shoulder as she tapped away at his laptop computer. Apparently he’d fired Gemma this morning and being unused to terminating employees he hadn’t had the foresight to get the tablet from her before he told her the bad news.

  “I don’t know but please back up. Your hot breath is uncomfortable on my neck.”

  It wasn’t really but his nearness had set off alarm bells that were loud and insistent. As Max had begun to show her his authentic self, her attraction to the movie star had deepened. She’d long passed enjoying his looks superficially and now she was well and truly besotted. The only answer was to keep him somewhat at arms’ length.

  “Sorry,” he apologized instantly but barely budged from his perch right behind her. “Have you found anything yet?”

  “I don’t know.” She clicked around the file folder structure. “You said that Gemma backed up her tablet to your laptop so you would always be in sync with each other, but you didn’t change the password after you fired her. It looks like she went in here and tried to delete a bunch of stuff.”

  A string of expletives fell from his well-shaped lips. “I had my accountant mail her a check for what I owed her but I should have held on to it until she fixed the mess she made.”

  “I don’t think that’s legal, Hamlet, although I’m unfamiliar with the laws in this country. But generally you have to pay people what you owe them whether they destroy your life or not.”

  A smile spread across her face and the heady buzz of triumph had her chuckling evilly. Gemma was a smart young woman. But not smart enough. Carrie had been around this block a time or two.

  “I got it,” she crowed, throwing a mental fist pump into the air. “This software package automatically backs up a copy every night at midnight. She got rid of the live version but she forgot about the spare. I can restore it but any changes made since then won’t be there. Is that okay?”

  She was amused to see Max doing a little jig behind her, his precious dignity be damned. If he’d shown her this side of him from day one… No, don’t think about that. She’d be his willing slave and that would be bad. Oh so very bad.

  “It’s bloody fantastic. There shouldn’t be any changes since midnight.” He was grinning and laughing like a loon. “I can’t believe you fixed it. It’s all going to be alright.”

  It took mere seconds to restore everything, then she plugged in the spare tablet computer she was letting him borrow so it could sync with the software. This way he could be mobile.

  “Since this is the first sync it’s going to take awhile.” She stood up with a satisfied smile. “We should probably go ahead and eat dinner. Hopefully it will be finished by then.”

  “You are amazing,” he stated, grabbing her into a big bear hug, his strong arms wrapped snugly around her body. Max’s delicious scent hit her right in the olfactory senses and she couldn’t stop herself from taking a second whiff. No man should smell this good. It ought to be illegal. It was certainly unfair. “You’v
e saved my life. Seriously. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  She opened her mouth to tell him it was no big deal but their gazes locked and the world around her seemed to stand still. Sound disappeared. The room blurred. Every molecule in her body was focused on this one man that was driving her crazy. One second she wanted to throttle him and the next she wanted to kiss him.

  Right now it was the latter and she was getting desperate. It appeared she wasn’t the only one with lascivious thoughts on their mind when his tongue snaked out and wet his lips. His head dipped down, moving inexorably closer, one millimeter at a time. Their breaths mingled and she could swear she felt the heavy drum of his heartbeat as he pressed her closer to his heated frame.

  This is it. It’s finally going to happen for real.

  The chime on his phone jarred them both back to his living room and the present. She thought she heard a low growl from Max’s throat but it might have been her imagination. Or it might have been her. She was frustrated and wanted to tell whomever had called him that they had seriously lousy timing.

  His gaze still hot, he fumbled with his phone and pressed it to his ear. He didn’t seem done with their “moment” quite yet.

  “Hello, Mum. It’s good to hear from you.”

  Nothing like a parental intervention to throw cold water on any hanky panky. Chilled as if she’d been doused with icy water, the arousal that had been so acute only moments before dissolved.

  She wasn’t the type for casual liaisons at this point in her life. She wanted to care about the man in her bed. They had a contract and she would fulfill it. But anything more was simply not in her best interests. This infatuation was just a passing fancy. She’d get over Max. Eventually.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Sexual tension made Carrie cranky. A fact she was trying hard to hide from Max.

  Since firing his assistant, she’d tried to help him out a little which meant they’d spent even more time together than before. Max was hopeless when it came to any sort of organization whatsoever and almost completely dependent on his calendar to get him anywhere on time. Carrie had set him up on new software so that he wouldn’t be at the mercy of anyone ever again since she was sure he’d learned absolutely nothing from the situation with Gemma.

  The problem was the more time she spent with Max the more attracted to him she was. Paige had been right. He was a nice man, genuinely caring, but reticent to expose his real self to the people around him until they’d earned his trust. Carrie couldn’t deny she felt special now that she’d reached that magic circle of friends.

  It didn’t hurt that he was gorgeous, either.

  Max opened the door to the car, giving her a smile that would have made a lesser woman swoon. “You look very nice tonight.”

  Max’s deep baritone sent a shiver up her spine. If he hadn’t been completely oblivious to how he affected her, she would have accused him of doing it on purpose. It was that devastating.

  “Thank you. So do you.”

  Her reply came out sounding more prim than she’d intended but Max didn’t seem to notice, relaxing back in the soft leather of the limousine next to her. They were heading to Tyler’s party at an exclusive nightclub in Chelsea and he’d sent cars for everyone so they could drink as much as they wanted without worrying about getting home.

  Max did look handsome in a pair of tailored black trousers, white button-down shirt, and black jacket. No tie, the shirt open at the neck showing off the strong column of his neck and that Adam’s apple she was dying to kiss. She’d started fantasizing about it at the most inopportune moments.

  Twisting her black velvet purse between her fingers, Carrie tried to make small talk to fill the quiet. Normally she excelled at chatting, even about innocuous topics, but Max didn’t always make it easy. He was a man given to bouts of brooding silence.

  “It’s good that you have tomorrow off. They’ve been working you hard these last few weeks.”

  “I’m ready for opening night. It feels like we’ve been rehearsing forever.”

  “Not much longer to wait. Next week is the shake out performances, right?”

  He looked down at her, his blue eyes intent and serious. “I’d like you there for at least one of them if possible. Can you do that for me?”

  He had no idea the things she wanted to do for him. Or to him.

  “Of course, whatever you need.” She shoved an imaginary knife in her own heart. Just as a reminder of why she was sitting there. “That’s what we agreed to.”

  Something flickered over his features but it settled into a smile. “It is but I can still say thank you. It means a great deal to me to see a friendly face in the audience.”

  “If Nate and Paige were here, I know they’d be there for you. They’re trying to make it for opening night.”

  “Poor Nate,” Max laughed. “He’s working overtime to get here. I told him they could come later in the run but he’s insisting.”

  The drive to the venue was short and the limo smoothly pulled up to the curb. Carrie checked her lip gloss in the mirror one last time.

  Max reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “You’re not nervous, are you? You look stunning. Every man in the room will be envious of me.”

  “And it’s all about you,” she teased, allowing him to open the door for her. They’d become much more comfortable with each other and he didn’t take offense at her words.

  “It most certainly is. Are you ready? This is a private party so there’s no red carpet or paps. There might be later if they figure out we’re here.”

  It was novel to be this dressed up with no one taking photos but she wouldn’t complain. Max led her into the dark nightclub illuminated by flashing lights and strategically placed lamps that looked more like candlelight. The heavy beat of the music could be felt under her feet and the song was one of her favorites.

  She tugged at Max’s arm. “I love this song. Let’s dance.”

  “You don’t want to greet everyone first? Or get a drink?”

  He was simply teasing her now. “I don’t. Please?”

  She stuck out her lower lip in a pout and he threw his head back and laughed. “We can’t have you all sad tonight. This is a party. Alright, lead the way, love.”

  Dragging him out on the dance floor, Carrie found a spot right next to Mike and Amy. The two women quickly embraced before Max twirled Carrie in a circle before pulling her close, his arm wrapped around her waist and her head tucked under his chin.

  There she stayed most of the evening, sweaty and happy, as she and Max danced the night away. He was an excellent dancer, comfortable with his body probably because of his profession, and not self-conscious in the least. The perfect partner, he was almost impossible to tire out due to his strict fitness regimen. She, on the other hand, needed a drink and a chair.

  “I need a drink,” she gasped as the song ended and another fast one came on. “And my feet are killing me.”

  Max led her to the edge of the dance floor. “Find a place to sit and I’ll get us a couple of drinks.”

  Amy and Mike had already left the dance floor and were sitting off in a quiet corner on a cluster of small couches. Wincing at her sore feet, Carrie joined them, collapsing against the cushions with a sigh of relief.

  “Every time I wear heels I ask myself why women got stuck with them and not men.”

  Mike raised his beer in welcome. “Men wear ties and that’s cruel enough. There’s no way it’s a man’s world as long as we wrap nooses around our necks for no good reason.”

  Amy giggled, her cheeks pink. She was ahead of Carrie on drink count. “What my handsome husband is trying to say is that he looks terrible in pumps. Please ask me how I know that.”

  Max chuckled in her ear, his breath warm on her cheek as he bent down to hand over her drink. “We said we’d never speak of it again, Amy, now here you are threatening to spill the beans to Carrie.”

  Amy wriggled her finger at Max. “You jus
t don’t want her to know about the time all the boys dressed up in drag. I have pictures, you know.”

  This Carrie had to see before she left this earth. One more item was just added to her bucket list.

  See Maxwell Hayes in a dress.

  Max cleared his throat. “It was a bet and we lost. We did not put on dresses because it was the thing missing from our lives. It was a bet.”

  Carrie took a sip of her cool drink. “Photos or it didn’t happen.”

  Max gave her a smug smile. “Then it didn’t happen.”

  “Yes, it did,” Amy declared. “I don’t have the pictures with me, but I do have them. I think Nate was the prettiest.”

  Lifting his nose in the air, Max sniffed with disdain. “Are you saying I was an unattractive female? That’s hardly a polite thing to say.”

  “You had a five o’clock shadow,” Mike jeered. “We all looked terrible. My lipstick was smeared. Tyler’s chest hair stuck out of his neckline. It was awful.”

  “I must know about this bet. Who did you lose to?”

  Max pointed to Amy who was almost doubled over in laughter. “You boys never learn your lesson. I make a yearly bet with them and they always lose. Every. Single. Time.”

  “World Cup,” Mike said grimly. “My lovely wife is something of a savant when it comes to picking winners. It’s one of her more annoying qualities.”

  “Go Amy,” Carrie laughed. “Seriously…there are pictures? I must see these. I bet Paige would want to see them too.”

  “I’ll dig them out.” Amy smiled and then stuck out her tongue at her husband. “Maybe I’ll even get one framed for the living room.”

  “I’ll see you in divorce court,” Mike retorted. “Or better yet, I’ll tell my mum. She’ll never let you hear the end of it.”

  Amy’s smile only grew wider. “My only love, your mother has already seen them.”

  Choking on his beer, Mike’s face turned beet red. “Woman, you are treading on thin ice.”

  “Then dance with me,” Amy challenged, nudging Mike with her foot. He jumped up from the sofa with a grin and swept her back onto the dance floor leaving Carrie and Max alone.