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  “What other night?”

  “The night you got back from downtown and came to invite me to party with you guys in Tyler’s room,” I clarified, hoping it would jog his memory.

  He frowned and turned his head to give me a queer look. “I did that?”

  My spirits sank. Adjusting my posture, I sat straighter and stared at the door, firmly resolved not to be hypnotized by his rippling pectorals. “Never mind.”

  It figured that he wouldn’t remember something that had been plaguing and nagging at me at all hours of the day. And the night, especially the night. He probably said similar things to all the girls, his hundreds of pictures on the web a testament to that. I had to stop focusing on this and get my mind back on track again. Where was the cool, confident woman I had been when I started this job? Deciding that it was entirely Garrick’s fault, like most recently recurring atrocities were, I stood to collect my things.

  Chapter Nine

  Garrick

  The truth was… I remembered. I remembered everything.

  I’d been just drunk enough to lose my filter, but not quite so much that chunks of time fell out of my memory. I could still picture Gwen exactly as she looked that night—long glossy black-brown hair hanging loose and attractively disheveled, as though she had been running her fingers through it for hours at a time. I wanted to do the same. I saw it as clearly then as I did now. I pictured it often. Her pale green silk lingerie, which I could only assume came from my favorite lady store of all time, enhanced the jade in her eyes and the shape of her body. I knew her breasts were impressive from the beginning, and they were the kind I wanted to squeeze, feel against me, lick (the whole shebang) as often as possible.

  That vulnerable image of her out of her professional attire and picture perfect poise stuck to my brain like gum on a shoe. I wanted to explore that side of her. That frightened me senseless.

  And the fear had forced me to admit something I’d fought like hell accepting.

  If I had her, it wouldn’t be exclusively about sex for me. I could get that anywhere. I wanted Gwen, the Gwen who was a ball-buster, whether it was because someone had caught her talking shit, she was worried about something, or she was defending something she believed in. I also wanted the Gwen who let her hair down and answered the door in her pajamas. Hell, I even wanted the Gwen who’d stared all googly-eyed at Liam when he’d visited the set, the one who for the very first time, had made me so jealous I’d wanted to immediately punch Liam in the face.

  Even going out partying the last two nights hadn’t been as great of an idea as I had hoped. I kept seeing her face everywhere, in spite of the fact that she sat in the hotel, tucked far away from downtown. At first, I attributed it to guilt. However, after two hours of the elusive sightings, I knew better. I had even tapped a girl on the shoulder thinking Gwen may have changed her mind and came to meet us.

  What the hell was happening to me?

  Again, I reminded my head that I couldn’t, I wouldn’t, do this to myself. Nothing about me stood ready for intimacy, which always entailed the danger of falling. Hell, forget falling. Intimacy was a crash and burn waiting to happen. And I couldn’t put myself through that. Not a second time.

  Not when I knew that I could fall for Gwen in a way I never had with Rachel.

  But my body wouldn’t listen.

  Before I could fully curb the impulse, my hand shot forward, almost as though it had a mind of its own, and grabbed her wrist. I surged to my feet and yanked her back to me, spinning her around like a dainty top, and kissed her as her hair settled back around her shoulders. The feel of her silky lips, like sinking into solace, hit me like a ton of bricks. I would remember this moment forever. She didn’t feel at all like Rachel, and that was glorious. I had kissed her before, and felt the same rush, magnetized toward her. But this was different.

  This wasn’t Payton kissing Lacey.

  This was me kissing Gwen.

  And it was fucking fantastic.

  To my astonishment, she didn’t fight me. It wasn’t until I pulled back and opened my eyes that I understood why. She hovered in front of me with a look of pale, dazed shock on her heart shaped, freckled face. A mix of astonishment and terror colored her features.

  I immediately let her go. “I lied,” I blurted out. “I do remember. Everything.”

  “What?” she asked, her jewel-like eyes tracking between mine.

  Even though I had released her, she hadn’t moved. With so little space between us, I could feel her body heat, her bikini covered breasts against my chest. What I wanted most was to push her up against the wooden wall and kiss her all over again, maybe even go farther. However, something in her eyes told me to make another call.

  “I meant it. I don’t think I’ll ever forget. Gwen, I like you. And I don’t expect you to believe me after I’ve been a complete asshole to you. I have. I have my reasons. They suck. And I’m sorry.”

  Where were these words coming from? Why was I saying them? Was the heat going to my head? Or, more accurately, my cock? Being this close to her felt utterly intoxicating. Of course, she had another theory not quite in line with my meaning.

  “Why are you saying this now? Are you drunk again?” The spark of panic in her eyes had dissipated, replaced by skepticism and worry.

  I felt my expression fall as I gazed down into her gorgeous face. “Working out drunk and then sitting in a sauna doesn’t exactly make much sense if one doesn’t want to die of dehydration,” I muttered. The hope that she’d forgive me and give me a second chance, even a first chance at something special with her, bled out of me. Quickly filling the empty space, anger rushed in. “Am I really that repulsive to you? Did you actually mean what you said the first day we—?”

  But I didn’t get to finish because in the next second, she hooked her hand behind my neck and pressed her lips against mine. Stunned, I couldn’t respond at first. However, as my senses rushed back to me, I quickly wrapped her up in my arms. Breath catching in my throat, I turned her, walked her the step or two it took to get to the wall, and pressed her against the damp wooden boards. When her back bumped up against them, she graced me with a soft moan. I craved more of those.

  The heat of the room, as well as her body, sky rocketed from pleasant to sweltering. I pressed tight against her so she could feel how turned on I was, how crazy she made me. Able to feel every firm curve and crevice, my hands explored her sides and the rounded cheeks of her ass. We fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. She melted against me and I loved the feel of it. My nerves buzzed with anticipation.

  Unable to help myself, as my lips remained too occupied with hers to ask for permission, I kept picturing her nude figure, accentuated by the sheen of the moisture in the air, against mine. I wanted her bikini top off… now. I slid my hands up her ribs, forgetting all about the glass door, foggy or not, that formed the only barrier between the two of us and potential onlookers.

  My hands inched up and around behind her, tangling into the strings keeping me from her plump breasts. She sucked in a sharp breath of air, planted her hands against my chest, and suddenly wriggled away. I jerked around to face her and we stared one another down, chests heaving in an attempt to catch our breath. The attractive flush in her cheeks sent a fresh wave of desire through me. I swallowed thickly.

  Opening my mouth to say something, I tried to take a step toward her to ask why she was wearing a what just came over me look on her face. She retreated.

  “I have to go,” she stammered, voice weighted down with arousal, but buoyed by panic. With that, she whirled away and fled, snatching her towel off the hook and wrapping it tightly around herself the instant she was out the door.

  I stood alone in the sauna, watching the muggy shape of her hurry away. The glass eventually fogged over too thickly for me to see anything. It was like standing in a dream and seeing a vision—experiencing a taste of a walking phenomenon—and then . . . waking up.

  Chapter Ten

  Gwen


  The world buzzed by me as I made my way back to my hotel room, which somehow shone like a temple, a sanctuary, to my crazed mind. If anyone called my name or asked me to slow down, I didn’t notice. If God himself had sent a glory of angels to sing me to a halt, I would have completely ignored it. Rounding the corner into my hallway, uncaring if I dripped the entire trip, I made a beeline for the third door.

  With a swipe of my card key, I swept through the door and shut it soundly behind me, pressing my back against the sturdy white wood and panting for fear that I’d faint and fall over.

  My eyes frantically searched the floor for answers.

  What had come over me in there!

  I could still feel him on my lips and the racing of my heart like a frantic bird in the cage of my ribs. I could feel the butterflies storming around in my stomach and glimpse the fireworks that had flared before my eyes. The explosion of chemistry and desire had catapulted me into a state of being, of desperately wanting, that I couldn’t even name! It had felt the same the first time we’d touched, and what had shocked me the most was when I realized that he must’ve experienced the same barrage of sensations that I had since the first day at Sun Studios. I hadn’t imagined my desire for him, and it swam so much deeper than mere physical attraction.

  Bless him and his gorgeous honey colored eyes, he remembered when he’d come to my door at two a.m. and that had shocked me stupid. It had surprised and thrilled me to think maybe, just maybe, I darted through his mind as often as he darted through mine. It had thrilled me so much, I had kissed him.

  Me!

  And in that moment, all thoughts of my father, all inhibitions swirling around the future of my career and what could be at stake when getting involved with a man like Garrick, jumped ship in a matter of seconds. The traitors! As a matter of fact, I had felt absolutely no trace of fear for my father’s rage while Garrick held me in his arms. Pitched headlong into the riotous rush of too much too soon, I floundered.

  Was this why he irritated me so? Had I wanted him this badly all along? The lingering liquid heat between my thighs certainly attested to that answer.

  What would Erica say? Should I even call Erica? Who could I call? Go to? Talk to? Certainly not my mother, because any information would leak back to my father in the time it took Albuquerque’s weather to change. I could call Vi, but she worked night shifts. Plus she didn’t know Garrick, not the way Erica did.

  I pushed my trembling hand back through my wet hair, uncertain if the dampness came from the humidity in the sauna or the fact that sweat still beaded on my skin from that amazing, glorious kiss. Coming up from the door like a shot, I ripped off my towel and shed my bathing suit on the way to the bathroom. I flipped on the shower and, without waiting for the water to warm, I jumped inside.

  “Shit!” I shrieked at what felt like icicles pelting my back. But I folded my arms and, like a stubborn statue in a snowstorm, forced myself to stand there. The heat coursing through me ebbed, trotting away to the sound of chattering teeth. The water warmed after what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a minute and a half. I did a little dance in place to kick the blood back into my veins. I untangled my arms and let them hang limp at my sides. Leaning back, I slid down the turquoise tiled wall to sit on the cool shower floor.

  I wanted to cry, scream, giggle madly, victory dance, and swoon all in the same cycloning space of time.

  “That arrogant, insufferable asshole is the hottest thing I have ever seen,” I whispered with a moan, tipping my head back to bump it against the wall several times. “You know better than this. What are you, doing, Gwen? Why can’t you find a nice, quiet, country boy? Why does it have to be a Hollywood heartthrob?”

  The answer rammed into me like an oncoming train.

  Why?

  Because, in spite of all my efforts, in spite of my predetermined prejudices… I was falling for Garrick Maze.

  Erica. I had to call Erica.

  * * *

  “What!” Erica exclaimed excitedly, suddenly sitting upright on the edge of my bed.

  “I know,” I groaned, flopping unceremoniously face first into my plethora of pillows.

  “I can’t believe this is actually happening,” she announced, her syrupy voice unusually enthusiastic. “It’s like watching my book in real life!”

  Assuming a frown and glancing up at her through my mess of wavy, unkempt hair that I had never dried after my cool-down, I mulled that over. Expression going slack and heart melting into a puddle of hot, gooey realization, I whined. “Nooo. It is, isn’t it?” I moaned, sinking back into my coverlet.

  Erica clapped her hands and chuckled. “So, dish, honey! How was it?”

  “Amazing,” I mumbled.

  She shimmied her broad, frail shoulders. “Thinking of doing it again any time soon?”

  My hand shot out, grabbing a stray pillow and I chucked it at her.

  She caught it and cuddled it against her chest, propping her chin on top. “Well, then. What are you going to do now?”

  With a sigh, I turned over and cast a despondent look at the ceiling. “I don’t know. I guess… It’s his move.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Garrick

  I dropped onto the wooden bench, still reeling from shock.

  What I wanted most was a bottle of bourbon and a rousing dose of the independent I don’t need a woman reality I had left behind. Or maybe what I longed for even more fervently was to sprint after Gwen and make her indisputably mine in front of several witnesses. But, unlike Gwen, I had visible evidence of my desire for her tenting my shorts that needed to disappear before I could skip out into public space like a normal human being. Running my fingers through my hair and scrubbing my face with my hands, I groaned.

  We had kissed before, at the read-through and during a few other practices. But the true passion I had felt lurking behind her lips then hadn't been exposed to me until now. Everything I had simultaneously longed for and dreaded came upon me like a massive rain during monsoon season. I had it bad. Not only did I like kissing her, but I wanted to do it again, as often as possible. Denying it was no longer a viable option. I could feel my priorities shifting involuntarily, yearning to pursue Gwen and put her on a pedestal above all the rest.

  My chest heaved. My heart hammered. Worrying at my lip, I shifted uncomfortably, denying myself the urge to find release while savoring the memory of how she’d looked and felt and tasted in my arms. For all I knew, a mother and daughter could walk in at any moment and that was the last thing I needed plastered all over the morning grocery store magazines. Gwen would never talk to me after an exposure like that.

  Or would she?

  What shocked me most was the fact that she kissed me. I had anticipated the opposite happening, especially considering I had initiated contact moments before only to have her stare, mortified, back up into my face afterwards.

  How could I get her to kiss me again? How could I ask for permission, or plan around her skittish, strangely explosive nature? The reward certainly outweighed the risk, but I'd have to be tactful about how I went about reaping it. Things could either fall into place perfectly, or shatter into an irreparable mess. Who was Gwen? She certainly wasn’t the ice queen she had shown me at times, not with a smoldering kiss like that.

  When my raging ache had abated enough to be tolerable, I righted myself, stalked out of the sauna, and wrapped my towel around my waist.

  Should I talk to someone? Tell someone? Who could I talk to?

  My dilemma about friends came roaring back to me, as did my reservations to opening myself up to anyone. Rejection sucked, I knew, though I had never experienced it myself. But worse still was betrayal. That, I could still practically taste. No one had the ability to disappoint or betray me so long as I never let them in. However, I wanted to let Gwen in, and I wanted her to afford me the same courtesy. I wanted to be the one she leaned on and confided in. And to my utter shock, I suddenly wanted to be the one to make Gwen's vision of lo
ve go from dream to iron clad reality.

  How could one girl turn me this upside down, inside out, and batshit crazy with one—no make that two—amazing kisses?

  How could I profess my feelings to Gwen without scaring her away?

  How much would come out of my paycheck for punching a hole in the wall to my right?

  Shit. I needed to get it together.

  After stepping out of the sauna and fishing my phone out of my gym bag, I scrolled down to Liam’s number. I called. After five rings, it went to voicemail. And I couldn’t bring myself to leave a voicemail. He was probably partying. He was probably high, drunk, or both.

  I left the pool, wandered the maze of hallways, and finally stormed into Shane's room. I found the door ajar, propped open with the silver attachment at the top. Irritable and frustrated and damned near ready to explode from confusion, I planned to make a beeline for the fridge and the bottle we hadn’t killed last weekend.

  Shane and Tyler stood in the middle of the suite. Seemingly startled, so much so that Shane fumbled with and dropped the book, presumably a prop, that he had been holding. They looked up at me. I paused, staring back at them, when I realized how close they stood together.

  "Uh," I began, eyes darting between them. What the hell had I just walked into?

  Shane did a good amount of stammering, talking with his hands, but saying nothing coherent.

  "Don't get any smart ideas," Tyler warned sardonically, moving away from Shane to drop onto the overly cushioned ottoman and swipe his Galaxy from the coffee table. "I was teaching him about intensity. His character is battling some serious demons standing in the way of his sexual orientation."