(Complete Rock Stars, Surf and Second Chances #1-5)

by Michelle Mankin

  “I can put on my pajamas, if that makes you more comfortable.”

  “The tiny set you had on this morning?”

  “They’re the only ones I have.”

  “No, thanks. The robe provides better coverage. But you might wanna go ahead and sit so you don’t trip.”

  “Sit where?” I glanced at the couch and gulped. He had already unfolded it into his bed.

  “I had them set the table up.”

  Cash gestured, and I followed the length of his arm.

  “Wow.” My eyes widened.

  White linen cloth. Two flickering candles, a single red rosebud in a slim vase between them. Two place settings—a burger and fries, and grilled chicken with veggies. Fruit. The sparkling water I liked.

  “That’s a ton of food.” The round table that sat four beside the kitchenette was crowded with plates. “And it’s not the usual room service.”

  “No, it’s not.” Cash trailed his gaze over me again. Beneath the robe, my skin sizzled. “You’re not a usual type girl.”

  His sculpted lips curved. They were a cinnamon color. My stomach grumbled and fluttered as I imagined tasting his spicy lips.

  “Might be best to get you started on some food before we talk.” He made a hook of his arm, and I stared up into his eyes for a moment.

  Seeing nothing but warmth and sincerity in the blue depths, I slipped my hand onto his forearm. He squeezed my fingers, and before I could fully register the way that simple touch made my heart swell, he’d escorted me to the table as though we were at some lavish affair and not just eating dinner inside our room.

  Our room.

  Double gulp, Hollie.

  At the table, he pulled out a chair. After I sat, he pushed my chair in a little, then moved to take the one across from it.

  “Being gentlemanly seems to come naturally to you.”

  “My grandmother’s influence.” His gaze was piercingly direct. “She raised me after my parents died.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I lost my mother. And I never even knew my father.”

  My eyes filling, I touched his hand. Before I could remove it, he covered it with his.

  That feeling I’d gotten earlier when he held me in his arms? I got it again. Only now it was exponentially stronger.

  “I know you understand. Knew you would react just like this.” He dipped his gaze to our joined hands. When his eyes met mine again, his blazed with intensity. “I know nearly everything there is to know about you. Watching, listening, reading your bio before I even took the job. Then being here with you here 24/7 filled in a lot of gaps. But even with all I know, even with all the time we’ve spent together, it’s not nearly enough. I want to know everything about you.”

  “Cash—”

  “Let me finish, please.”

  “All right.”

  “Thank you. It’s not enough because it’s not the right kind of time.”

  “Time more like this, you mean?”

  “Yes, you with your hair down. No makeup. No entourage. The woman, not the movie star.”

  “You with your guard down,” I whispered.

  “Unwisely, but yes. I’ve tried to fight the feelings I have for you. But today . . .” He let out a breath. “Today was a tipping point. Literally.” His lips curved. “You’re not the child I tried to convince myself you were. In that dress, it was obvious. Holding you, it was undeniable.”

  He reached for and took both of my hands, drawing me closer. “I want so much with you. But . . .” His gaze dropped, his fingers tightening on mine.

  “But my age is an issue, and you’re my employee,” I said, reiterating points we’d already covered. It seemed to me it was time to summarize.

  “Yes, there’s those things.” His gaze lifted, the earlier clarity within his eyes dimmed. “I know in my head I should keep our relationship strictly professional, but I can’t seem to manage it.”

  He leaned closer. His warmth and his seductive scent tempted me to narrow the gap between us.

  I seriously considered crawling onto his lap, throwing my arms around his thick neck, and kissing him. But I’d learned too many lessons the hard way to throw caution away. Plus, I well-remembered the previous pullbacks by him.

  “Do you want to manage it?” I arched my signature brow, pretending I was calm and collected and that this was familiar territory for me, when it certainly was not.

  “Do you?” he asked, his expression shuttered.

  “No, I don’t,” I said, being honest. Taking a chance. My stomach was so tense, it didn’t even flutter like before. “I’ll be eighteen in a week.”

  “I’m very conscious of the number of days until you reach that milestone.” He lifted his arm, hesitating only briefly before touching me. “Nearly as aware of a date on a calendar as I’ve been aware of you.”

  He softly ran the back of his hand across my cheek. I leaned into the caress like a kitten having its fur scratched. It seemed once his skin connected with mine, I couldn’t remember any reasons for caution.

  “So until then, no more pullbacks and barriers. We open the door to a possibility of there being something between us?” I asked, needing the clarification.

  “Yes, sugar. Emotional barriers open. But chaste touching only. I’m a man running extremely low on willpower where you’re concerned. Until you’re legal, we take this possibility between us slow, at a snail’s pace.”

  Chapter Ten

  * * *

  “Slow sounds good.” Blinking at him, I agreed. After all, he was older and more experienced than me.

  “So eat, shug.” He dipped his chin. “Which will it be, burger or chicken?”

  “Chicken, of course.” I made a face as he slipped his hand from mine and slid the plate toward me.

  “Not of course.” He lifted his brows and I froze, my napkin in my lap already and my utensils poised over my plate. “You worked out for two hours. Surely you can eat whatever you want.”

  I shook my head, then proceeded to cut the grilled chicken breast and gestured to his plate with a small bite of meat on the tines of my fork. “Go ahead and eat. Don’t tempt me. I’m trying to be good.”

  I brought the bite to my mouth, closed my eyes as I chewed, and let out an exaggerated moan.

  “Mmm. Delicious.” When I opened my eyes, he was staring at me. “What is it?”

  I set down my fork and picked up my napkin. “Do I have something on my face?” I dabbed quickly at my mouth.

  “You’re the one who’s tempting.” His blue eyes bright, he shook his head. “Slow’s going to kill me. It’s going to be next to impossible to be good.”

  My lips curled. “I didn’t really mean anything . . .”

  “You did.”

  “Maybe subconsciously.”

  “Heaven help me if you put conscious effort into it.”

  My grin widened.

  “You have a beautiful smile, Hollie. It’s more potent to be on the receiving end of your happiness than anything else you could do.”

  I set down my fork, finished chewing, and swallowed. With difficulty. My throat was tight. “Don’t say things like that.”

  “Like what?” He cocked his head.

  “Like you just did.”

  “Why not, when they’re the truth?”

  “No one talks like that to me when the film’s not rolling.” I glanced away, blinking to remove the sting of emotion from my eyes.

  Suddenly, he was right there in front of me. I hadn’t even heard him move.

  Note to self: remember Cash has military training.

  He crouched in front of me, reaching to touch my hand where it rested on the arm of the chair. “If that’s the case, then the men you know are all fools.”

  Heat zinged up my arm as he stroked the pad of his thumb across my skin. And like the petals of a flower opening to the warmth of the sun, that small portion of my heart that persisted in continuing to believe in genuine love opened also.

  He squeezed my hand and st
ood. I followed him with my gaze as he returned to his seat. I didn’t even look away when he was situated, and his eyes met mine again. The candlelight flickered in his royal-blue gaze like magical stardust.

  “You’re staring, sugar.”

  “You can’t be real, Cash.”

  “Max.”

  “Max,” I repeated, and he nodded.

  “Give me your hand.”

  I extended my arm. He grasped my fingers, his larger hand engulfing mine. My doubts faded as quickly as his skin warmed me, and I lifted my gaze to find his.

  “Better.” He nodded as if to confirm something in his own mind. “When I touch you, I know this, I know it’s real. I know it’s right.”

  He swept his thumb across my knuckles. “I get your trepidation. We both have reservations. I’ve seen enough of your life to know how little of it’s real and how much more of it is only perception. So, let’s make a pact. Here, right now, wherever we are, whatever happens tomorrow or the next day, behind closed doors, when it’s just the two of us like this, we keep it real, and no one and nothing else outside of us can change that or the way we feel when you and I are alone together. Can you do that, shug?”

  He stopped stroking my skin. “Can you make me that promise?”

  “I can.”

  “Good.” He let out a breath and released my hand, then picked up his burger and pointed to my plate. “Eat. Finish your food before it gets completely cold.”

  I began to eat, and so did he. But though we were focused on our food, we were also extremely aware of each other.

  Or I certainly was extremely aware of him.

  His long fingers wrapped around his burger. His sculpted lips as he chewed. How he wiped his mouth between bites. The way he studied me as I ate my meal seemed similar.

  Though where he had excellent table manners, mine escaped me. My hands fumbled with utensils. I had trouble chewing and swallowing. My lips tingled when I sensed his gaze on my mouth.

  “Fruit?” he asked, lifting the platter of freshly sliced cantaloupe and offering it to me.

  “A few pieces, perhaps.”

  I reached. He pulled the platter back.

  “I’d like to try something, if you’ll allow it.”

  “Okay.” I nodded.

  He put the plate down, selected a slice, and leaned forward. “Open your mouth, sugar.”

  I parted my lips. His gaze on mine, he brought the piece of fruit to my mouth. My eyes on his, I leaned forward to take it. As he slipped the melon slice into my mouth, I had a fleeting fanciful thought.

  I felt like Eve in the garden, if Adam—not the serpent—had offered her a bite of apple from the tree of knowledge. For surely my eyes were open to him, to us, to the roles we would portray.

  He would dominate. I would submit. Willingly, oh so willingly, if my previous behavior—the flutter low in my abdomen and the heat throbbing between my legs—were any indication.

  I sank my teeth into the slice, and he dropped the remaining half on the platter. I closed my mouth, somehow managing to chew, though he held me captive with his gaze.

  “Do you feel it, the heat?” he whispered low, and reached out to brush the pad of his thumb gently over my lips to remove the juice that had escaped.

  As I watched, he brought his thumb to his mouth and slipped it between his lips. The throbbing between my legs intensified as I imagined the feel of those firm lips and the suction of his mouth on me.

  “You will burn me up, sugar.” He reached for the other half of the slice.

  My spine tingling in anticipation, I obediently opened my mouth to partake of more temptation from his hand.

  I might be an ingenue, but I wasn’t unaware of what was happening. Max was seducing me.

  I would succumb, and I’d revel in the flames. When the chemistry between a man and a woman was already like this, it wasn’t just a possibility.

  It was inevitable.

  Chapter Eleven

  * * *

  “Tell me something about you beyond what I can find by searching your name on the internet,” Max said, leaning back in his chair.

  “Hmm.” I hummed, stalling for time to get my mind to function on something other than him, and the fact that the tapers on the candles burned a good deal lower than the fire he’d kindled inside me. “There’s a lot of information out there.”

  “I want to know what you would want me to know. The things that matter to you. Tell me about yourself as if we’d just met.”

  “I was born here in Los Angeles. I have a sister, who you already know. My mom was an actress like me, before she married my . . . Samuel.” I felt a crease form between my eyes.

  “Your stepfather is a sore subject.”

  I nodded. “One best avoided all the time.”

  “Your mother?”

  “She was a wonderful, amazing woman. Stunning. Strong. Sacrificing. Caring and wise.”

  “You miss her.”

  “Every day. Every hour. There’s a hole inside my life without her.”

  His expression somber, he nodded. “That’s how it is for me with my grandmother. My parents passed when I was too young to remember them. But my grandmother . . .” His eyes pinched closed. “It’s like you said.”

  Max opened his eyes, darker now, holding an inconsolable sadness I could identify with. “When a person is so important to you, when their love makes up such a big portion of who you are, when they’re taken away there’s a part of you that’s gone forever too.”

  “That’s exactly how I feel about my mom.” Reeling internally, I stood and went to him. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Bending over, I slid my arms around his neck and rested my cheek on top of his head.

  “Thank you, shug.” He reached up and grasped my arms. “I didn’t mean to get so serious.” He squeezed. “But I certainly value your understanding and appreciate your comfort.”

  I turned my head and pressed a kiss into his hair. Golden with some platinum sun-bleached highlights, it was silky-soft beneath my lips and lightly scented by the hotel’s mimosa shampoo. Combined with his cologne and his warmth, and considering everything else that had happened between us, well, my legs were admittedly unsteady as I returned to my chair.

  “Do you have any siblings?” I asked once I was resettled.

  “I’m sure you saw on my background check that I don’t.”

  “But I want to know what you want me to know.”

  “Ah, just right.” Smiling softly, he nodded. “I grew up in Biloxi, Mississippi. We had a little money from my father’s life insurance, but mainly we lived off the income my grandmother made working in housekeeping at one of the casino-hotels. I wasn’t as good in school as I imagine you were, given your expansive vocabulary, so I enlisted. Served my contract. Went into private security afterward. My first job was at the same hotel where my grandmother had worked. The second one was out here.”

  “Security You Can Trust in San Diego.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why the change? California is very different from Mississippi.”

  “I needed that difference, needed a change of scenery.”

  Max’s guarded expression returned. Guessing that reaction stemmed from talking about his grandmother’s death, I didn’t push.

  He tapped his chin. “You throwing my words back at me from earlier told me something about you I should have already guessed.”

  “Which is?”

  “You have a quick memory for detail. You never write your manager’s instructions down. You stuck to her talking points at the press conference and didn’t deviate from a single one. I imagine that’s a skill that makes it fairly easy for you to memorize dialogue.”

  “Yes. The difficult part is not changing the words, even if I think they should be changed.”

  “Ah, I often wondered about that. Are there never any revisions to a script during filming?”

  “It depends on the writers and the director. Some welcome on-the-set improvisation, others don’t
. I prefer working with ones who are flexible.” I let out a breath. “It’s nice to finally be at a point in my career where I can be choosier.”

  “Speaking of choosing,” his eyes narrowed in interest, “have you decided what your next project will be?”

  “Not yet.” I shook my head.

  “But you’re leaning toward one.”

  “Two.”

  His eyes widened.

  “It’ll be tight to squeeze two in, but I’m thinking of doing the David Mamet script about a con man, and the romantic comedy.”

  “Why those two? They’re very different.” He shrugged. “Don’t look so surprised. Surely you know I can’t help but listen when you and Olivia talk.”

  “It’s okay. It’s not a secret. It’s part of the game, part of the consideration process for everyone from the cast to the production crew to try to guess who’s signing up for what before they make their determination. For me, personally, I think the screen adaptation on the Mamet piece is incredible. The director is also one I’ve always wanted to work with.” But my stepfather had never allowed it. Chester Valentine was a rival of his. “There’s an impressive ensemble of actors who have already committed to be in it.”

  “A sure hit.”

  “As close as you can get to one.”

  “And the other?”

  “A romantic drama with a little comedy. An independent film. Those aren’t usually commercially successful. But the script . . .” I sighed. “The story is simple, but I like it a lot. The contrast between the heavier emotional elements and the lighter ones make it poignant.”

  “Sounds like that one’s where your heart is.”

  “Definitely.” I nodded. “But it won’t pay much. I have to consider paying the bills too.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of trying to tell you which one to choose. I don’t know much about film, really, except what I like.” He leaned forward. “I liked you in every single one I’ve seen. And I’ve seen them all. My favorites are the comedies. It seems to me you have an inherent knack for timing. But the trailers for Firelight are pretty impressive.”

  I frowned. “The advance speculation by critics isn’t very favorable.”