Текст книги "Red Carpet Kiss"

Автор книги: Melissa Brown

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

“Fine. I understand. I need to loosen up.”

“Thank you. What time are you meeting him?”

Elle glanced down at her watch. “In twenty minutes.”

“Well, shit, I’ll let you go then. Let your hair down, have some fun!”

Elle promised Whitney she’d do her best to enjoy herself. She hung up the phone, placed it on the counter, and pulled the pins from her hair, causing the bun to tumble past her shoulders, her blonde locks forming loose curls that spilled down her back. She took a deep breath and walked back to her closet to finish getting dressed. Then she walked back to the sink, retrieved the pins, and placed them between her teeth. She looked at herself in the mirror, shook her head, and spent five more minutes placing her hair back in a bun.

Luke was already sitting at a small, cozy table at Angelini Osteria when Elle finally arrived, ten minutes later than their reservation. Elle was never late, but Luke Kingston seemed to flip her version of normal on its head. She couldn’t get past her hesitation. She still couldn’t decide if this was all a game to him, a way of making a name for himself in the beginning.

It was easy to say she had trust issues. Since Troy broke her heart ten years earlier, she’d dated . . . sporadically. Whitney had a point when she compared their love lives. The best word to describe Elle’s relationships would be . . . also sporadic. She had dated a few men in Chicago, and a few more since moving to Santa Monica, but none had stuck. Mostly because it was difficult for Elle to separate herself from her show. And to stop sabotaging any chance she had at happiness. When things grew serious with any of the men she’d dated, she found reasons to end each relationship abruptly and without explanation. She couldn’t let go of the past long enough to be happy.

Letting go was hard . . . she hadn’t let go in ten straight years.

When Elle reached the table, Luke, looking all kinds of handsome, set his menu on the table, and rose to meet her. He placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. “You made it.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t?”

He shrugged, giving her a tight, toothless smile. “After our discussion earlier, I thought maybe not.”

“I honor my commitments.”

She didn’t intend to come off as cold, but she wasn’t quite sure about him—his intentions, his interest in her, it was still murky in her brain.

“As do I.” He handed her a menu. “Have you been here before? The porchetta will change your life.” He took a quick sip of his red wine.

“Porchetta?”

“You’ve never had it? Seriously, it’s to die for, so rich and delicious. You have to try it.”

“Maybe I will.” She felt herself easing up, relaxing into his carefree demeanor.

“Let’s get you a drink. Red or white?”

“Red, please. Pinot noir.”

“Perfect.”

Luke signaled the waiter and promptly ordered a bottle of pinot noir. She hated to admit it, but she loved that he ordered for her. She’d yet to be on a date in Los Angeles where a man acted in such an old-fashioned manner. Secretly, she wondered if he’d been watching reruns of Mad Men. In Elle’s opinion, Don Draper may have been part douchebag, but he knew how to treat a lady in public.

“Where are you from . . . you know, originally?” Luke asked before taking another sip of his drink.

The waiter arrived with the wine and poured a glass for Elle. She thanked him graciously, and took a sip to calm her nerves.

“Chicago. I moved here a few years ago when the network bought the rights to the show.”

“Oh, that’s right, I think I knew that.” Luke chuckled, scratching lightly at the skin of his forehead.

“Did you Internet stalk me?” Elle teased. She liked that he was showing just a hint of vulnerability. It was obvious to her Luke hadn’t meant to ask that question since he already knew the answer. But she’d play along.

“Guilty as charged.” He shrugged. “Couldn’t help myself, I had to know more.”

Elle was flattered. Beyond flattered, actually. But she was trying too hard to keep her poker face intact. She couldn’t let him see how he affected her, especially since she was still smack-dab in the middle of figuring him out.

“Interesting,” she replied, staying coy. “And you, where are you from?”

Luke’s eyes widened in response and he nudged her on the shoulder. “You didn’t read my resume?”

Busted.

No, Elle wanted to answer, I was too busy staring at your gorgeous head shot. The resume only received a tiny glance. “I did, but I don’t remember seeing a hometown listed, only your work in Los Angeles.”

“That’s because I’ve lived here my entire life.”

“Ah, well, that makes sense, doesn’t it?” Elle looked at her empty glass, wondering how she polished off an entire glass of wine during such a short period of time. Luke offered to pour her another glass, but she shook her head. She couldn’t lose control. “Thank you, but I’ll wait for our food to arrive.”

“Sure.”

Silence took up residence at their table, and, feeling awkward, Elle picked up her menu and stared at the dishes, unsure of what to order. Luke followed her lead and glanced at his as well.

“I’m not really a fan of pork, so—”

“The pasta’s great too.”

“Mmm.” She bit into her upper lip as she studied the dishes. “I think I’ll try the sole.”

“Nice choice.”

Menus were placed back on the table and silence reared its ugly head once again. Luke chuckled to himself and poured another glass of wine, raising it to his lips.

“So . . .” He paused, studying her face with narrowed eyes, as if he was trying to solve her like a puzzle. “How is my character coming along?”

There it was. Work talk. She’d waited for that, wondering when he’d cut to the chase. She took a rather large breath in, pursing her lips before speaking. “He’s fine.”

Again, silence.

“I’m sorry, did I . . . did I piss you off or something?”

Elle crossed her arms in front of her chest. “No, why would you think that?”

“Well, I mentioned the show and you shut down. It’s like you built this wall right here.” He motioned with his arm, an invisible line down the center of the table. Elle sensed concern in his knitted brow. She was hurting his feelings—she hadn’t expected that.

She’d come in contact with many self-serving actors in the past. Guys would chat her up at a bar while she was out with Whitney. They’d buy her drinks, ask a few questions about her life, her work, and then parlay it into talking about their careers. Before she knew it, they’d be pulling out a business card or a head shot and she’d feel like a complete fool. Was it fair to assume Luke was the same as those who’d fooled her in the past? Not necessarily, but she couldn’t help it. Yes, he had the role already, but this was his big break, and having an “in” with the creator and head writer of the show could definitely serve him well.

When Elle sat frozen, completely lost in her own quizzical thoughts, Luke spoke softly. “Listen, Elle, I like you. But if you’d rather just . . . I don’t know, have a drink and call it a night, that’s okay.”

“I—I.” She stumbled on her words. She hadn’t expected such a reaction from him.

You’re screwing this up, she thought to herself. She shook her head and reached across the table to take his hand in hers.

“No, I’m sorry. Just frazzled, I guess. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

She watched as his face relaxed; he squeezed her hand in return, then raised it to his lips and placed a kiss inside her palm.

“Forgiven.”

Elle didn’t know that one word could reduce her to a pile of mush. But that one did. She sat, stunned as Luke cradled her hand in his.

“I asked about my character because, frankly, I’m excited. I’ve been hitting the pavement for years in audition after audition. This is a big deal for me.”

Elle had never thought about this from Luke’s point of view. His resume was filled with measly projects that probably failed to pay his bills each month. Securing a supporting role on television’s hottest show was life changing for him. She needed to recognize that.

“That makes sense.” She squeezed his hand. “I get it.”

“Look, I know you think I’m some opportunist or something. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. If you give me a chance, you’ll see that. When I’m here with you, I see you—that’s all.”

“And what do you see?”

“The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Elle closed her eyes tight, tilting her head in disbelief. There was no way she could believe this gorgeous man was that affected by her appearance. She knew she was attractive, but she was also a realist and knew he’d probably dated his fair share of actresses and models.

“Not only that,” he continued, “I’ve watched the show since it began. It’s smart. Really smart. I’d dare say it borders on brilliance.”

She’d received countless compliments on the show up until this point, but the word brilliance had never been used. She silenced the little voice in her head that told her not to believe him. She found herself swept up in that word, in the sentiment of his compliment.

“Thank you.”

The waiter returned and Luke placed their order. She sat, stirring in her own conflicting thoughts. Part of her wanted to follow Whitney’s advice, walk to the ladies’ room and take her hair down, return to the table and allow Luke to see she was just as captivated by him as he appeared to be by her. But the other part, the dominant part of her psyche, rejected that as foolishness. Pure and utter foolishness.

She had to stay strong, stay smart. She had to remind herself that no matter how intoxicating this man might be, she was, for all intents and purposes, his superior, his boss.

She had a reputation to uphold, and the last thing she needed was a scandal on her already very full plate.

When their meal came to an end, Luke refused her offer to split the check.

“Don’t be silly, I invited you to dinner.”

She felt guilty, knowing his paychecks for Follow the Sun had yet to begin, and he was probably strapped for cash based on the sparse employment listed on his resume. But the last thing she wanted to do was insult his manhood or ability to provide. So she simply thanked him and they walked slowly to her car.

“So . . .” He looked up at the evening sky. “Where to?”

The foolish part of her brain wanted to invite him back to her place, to allow herself to get lost in his touch, to lose herself in the seduction that was Luke. But she just didn’t have it in her. Her hair was still up tight in its bun, with no plans for it to be released.

Elle felt her body tense as she delivered what she knew would be interpreted as a dismissal. “I’m going to call it a night.”

“Oh.” Luke exhaled and nodded, pursing his lips in obvious disappointment. Elle wanted to change her mind, to extend an invitation to her place, but she had to be careful, no matter how attractive he was.

“I guess I’ll see you later this week? Costume department needs my measurements. Maybe I’ll stop by your office or something.”

“That’d be nice.”

Luke leaned in, his eyebrows pressed toward one another in a pensive glance. His lips brushed against hers and, although her immediate reaction was to turn her head, to only give him access to a cheek, she just couldn’t do that. Desire was building within her, and even though a kiss was not nearly enough to satisfy that desire, it would have to do for now.

Her lips touched his with subtle urgency. He smiled before placing a hand behind her neck and kissing her deeply, his tongue gaining entry inside her welcoming mouth. Her arms wrapped around his back, pulling him closer, her tongue completely at his mercy. Her heart was racing inside her chest. Just when she thought of leading him back to her car, and driving quickly back to her place, he pulled away. He took his lips away from her, and immediately she craved him, wanted him to return. Her lips pressed to his, the hunger inside her demanding to be fed. After several seconds, he pulled away, teasing her with feathery touches to her upper lip. And then he kissed her again, pushing her to the brink before pulling away once more.

Her hands found his shoulders, and she pressed into them with frustration. Her words came out in a throaty moan. “What are you doing?”

“Just checking.”

She was confused. “Checking what?”

“You had me all confused. But now I know.”

“I don’t understand.”

“This”—he gestured between them—“is just as mutual as I thought it was.”

Her body stiffened at his words. She felt exposed, silly, and ridiculous. She hated that her carnal behavior had revealed her true feelings toward him. She craved control, and she felt it slipping from her grasp.

“So what if it is?” She puckered her lips and stood straight and tall.

He ran his fingers through her hair, releasing the bun, and allowing her hair to spill down her shoulders. She gasped, peering into his eyes.

Luke ignored her question. His fingers weaved in and out through the loose curls that tumbled down her back. “I like your hair like this. It suits you.”

He kissed her one last time on the lips before pressing his lips to her exposed shoulder, sending shivers down her spine.

“Just so you know, I have no intention of backing down. I want you, Elle. And I know you want me too.”

She swallowed hard and licked her lips. She was terribly uncomfortable yet aroused by his words. She wanted him in her bed, desperately.

“Good,” she whispered, the corners of her mouth curling up in satisfaction.

He grinned at her response, before saying good night. Her body tingled as she drove back home, unable to escape thoughts of that kiss, of the way he’d teased her, of how he made her come apart. Their chemistry was no longer something she could deny. She only hoped she could maintain her professionalism despite her building need for Luke Kingston.

Elle awoke, yet again, with sweat dripping down her neck and an ache between her legs. For four straight nights, she’d dreamed of Luke—above her, beneath her, behind her. On the bed, the couch, against the wall—the fantasies made her yearn every single morning. She despised her alarm clock for pulling her from the encounters.

She wiped the sleep from her eyes, attempting to focus her vision as she shifted to a seated position. How long could she resist him? Of that, she was unsure. He was invading her psyche in more ways than she was comfortable. For work, it was having a more than positive effect on her productivity. Writing David was simple—scenes poured from her brain and out through her fingers as she typed. The sexual tension between David and Molly was screaming from the pages. Rob was delighted at episodes eight and nine. She’d delivered them just yesterday and he praised her up and down—predicting all sorts of grandeur for the upcoming season. Luke was proving to be quite the muse.

But when she wasn’t hard at work on another script, her mind was wandering and, like a smitten teenager, she’d been counting down the days until Luke would arrive for his appointment with Barb, the head costume designer. And today, it had finally arrived.

After a refreshing shower, Elle pondered the clothing in her closet. Her schedule for the morning was a table read with Nolan, Gina, and several members of the supporting cast, followed by lunch, and an afternoon of writing. Tomorrow, they would begin shooting the very first episode of the season. Her nerves were aflame with anticipation of both the official start of the season and her hopeful run-in with the possible leading man in her life.

She opted for a simple pencil skirt with a pale yellow chiffon blouse. Nothing extravagant or ostentatious, but classy, fun, and just a little bit sexy. Butterflies swarmed her abdomen as she groomed herself for the day ahead. She expected it would be quite a busy week¸ but she welcomed the excitement.

What Elle didn’t expect upon settling in at the sizable table in the conference room was the rising tension between her two leads. Typically, table reads were a relaxed experience for all involved. The actors had received their scripts the previous week and were given plenty of time to study their own lines. Then, the table read allowed them to work on delivery and ask for direction from both Elle and Rob.

The normally relaxed environment, however, was anything but. Tension hovered above the table and Elle struggled to decipher the source of the strain as her actors struggled through the scene. She knew it wasn’t the writing. This was the first episode of the season and had picked up immediately after the cliff-hanger of the season finale. No, it was the actors. Specifically Gina Romano.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Nolan delivered his line, his eyes sincere, his voice conveying the desperation Desmond was feeling.

Gina rolled her eyes as Nolan read the line and her response was wooden and stiff, without any of the emotion the script demanded. “I’ve been looking for you too.”

Elle couldn’t take it anymore. She had to interrupt the read. Gina’s unprofessional behavior was unacceptable.

“I’m sorry, is there a problem here?” She pushed her reading glasses down to the tip of her nose and glared at Gina.

Gina wouldn’t look her in the eye. “Nope, no problem here.”

“Maybe we should take a break,” Nolan suggested, clearing his throat and tapping his copy of the script on the table.

“Fine, whatever.” Gina dropped her attention to the floor, retrieving her phone from her purse.

Elle stared at the two, each refusing to look one another in the eye. She had to get to the bottom of this. Sure, Nolan would eventually be written out of the show, but they had twenty-three episodes to shoot before that would become a reality.

Elle stood and walked to the door. “Nolan, care to step outside for a minute?”

Nolan inhaled deeply, glaring at Gina before pushing his chair back. The bottoms squeaked against the linoleum floor. He huffed, ran his hand through his dark hair, and followed Elle into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

“What was that all about?”

“I don’t know.” He avoided her eyes just as Gina had at the table.

What the hell is going on?

“I can stand out here all day, so . . .”

“Fine, but . . . you can’t tell her I told you.”

Elle’s annoyance level was reaching a new high. “What are we, five? No, I make no promises. You two are messing with my show.”

Nolan’s shoulders slumped as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his worn jeans. He looked down at the floor.

“It’s no big deal.”

“Obviously.” Elle had quite the habit of handling conflict with sarcasm. She knew it made her seem tough as nails, and she didn’t care. She was irritated they’d managed to ruin the excitement she’d had flurrying in her belly all morning. Now, she was breaking up a fight between two adults who were acting like kindergarteners.

“She’s pissed off, that’s all.”

“About?”

“My leaving.” Elle continued to stare at Nolan, waiting for him to finish his sentence. He looked at her like she was a raving lunatic. “The show. She’s pissed I’m leaving the show.”

Elle crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Sorry, not buying it.”

Nolan’s eyes rose to meet Elle’s. The whites of his eyes became more prevalent as he widened them in disbelief.

“She read with Luke Kingston last week and she was fine. Whatever this is, it’s recent.”

“She found out . . . about me and—me and someone on staff.”

Whitney. Of course. They’d slept together, but . . . why would Gina care? Then it dawned on her.

“Wait . . . you and Gina? You’re . . . a couple? How in the world did I not know this?” Elle was shocked. She’d worked with the two for years and had always assumed their chemistry was simply that—on-screen chemistry. She never imagined they were actually involved when they were no longer delivering the lines of Molly and Desmond.

Nolan walked quickly from Elle, pacing the length of the hallway, his arms stretched out to rest behind his neck. “No one knows. It was . . . a casual thing. At least, I thought it was. I guess I was sorely mistaken.”

“So you and Whi—I mean, this other person, was it a one-time thing?” Elle pressed, mostly out of curiosity. She hadn’t reacted so well when Whitney had mentioned their fling a few weeks earlier. She wasn’t sure if it had continued without Whitney sharing the details.

“Yes, of course. It was just . . . I don’t know, a drunken thing. No big deal. I’m still friends with her and everything.”

“But Gina . . . she found out.”

“Yes. And as you can see, she’s pissed.” He gestured toward the room.

“Well, obviously you two have some things to discuss.”

“Obviously.” Nolan leaned his hips against the wall, looking up to the ceiling in defeat.

“But here’s the thing. Right now, you’re on my watch and this can’t affect your work.”

“Believe me, I know. I’m doing my best.”

Elle glanced back inside the conference room. Gina was watching them through the tiny pane of glass in the solid wood door. Her eyes were glassy and her fingernails tapped against the top of the table.

“Come with me.”

Elle led Nolan back into the room, where he resumed his seat. She, however, stood tall in front of the two actors. “Everyone, except for our two leads, you can take a ten-minute break. Meet back here at nine forty-five, all right?”

Papers shuffled and chairs squeaked as the supporting cast gathered their things and left the room. Gina placed her phone in her purse and looked to Elle, her fingers continued to tap against the wooden table.

“I’m going to make this brief.” Elle paced behind the table, looking between the two actors holding up the workday. “Whatever drama is happening between you two, you can figure it out on your own time. Right now, you need to pull yourselves together and focus on the task at hand. I’ve been working like a maniac on this season and I will not watch my show go down in flames because you two are having some sort of ridiculous fight.”

Gina’s nose flared and her eyes widened. Her attention snapped to Nolan, daggers peaked from her brown eyes.

“You told her? I can’t believe you, Nolan. Seriously.” She stared down at the table, biting her lower lip as her cheeks turned a deep shade of crimson.

“He told me very little—the rest is blatantly obvious.”

“Right.”

“I really don’t have time for this. Now, get over yourself and get into character. For the next two hours, you’re Molly, not Gina. Have I made myself clear?” Her fingernail tapped the table as she pressed it down to make her point.

“Yes,” they said in unison.

“Thank you. I’m going to grab another cup of coffee. When I get back, I expect this cloud of tension to be gone.”

The two actors glared at one another and Elle knew she had to leave that room. If she didn’t she’d end up using the rest of the ten minutes lecturing them. Her cup was empty and she desperately needed a boost. She walked down the hall to the kitchen. A fresh pot of coffee filled the room with the bitter yet inviting scent she craved so deeply. Elle inhaled deeply while filling her cup to the brim. She resisted the urge to stop by Whitney’s office, knowing it would just fan the flames of drama. There was nothing Whitney could say or do to fix the situation Nolan had created with Gina. It just had to play itself out.

A text rang in: Just finished my costume measurements. Meet me for coffee before I head out?

Luke.

Disappointment swarmed her belly as she knew she had no time to see him. She had two minutes before she was needed back for the table read. There was no way for her to steal away with him for any amount of time before he would leave the building.

Table read, I’m sorry. I wish I could . . .

How about dinner?

Elle smiled, excited to see the man she couldn’t evict from her thoughts.

Sounds good. Pick me up?

You got it. Send me your address later.

Seven o’clock?

Perfect.

With a new air of confidence, Elle strolled back to the conference room, knowing even Gina Romano couldn’t spoil her good mood. That evening would be spent with Luke, and she could hardly wait.

Elle’s fingers were growing hot as they darted between the keys. Furiously the script for episode ten spilled from her brain and onto the screen of her laptop. She was satisfied with the way the storyline was building, and even though she’d promised Rob she’d allow the other writers to assist with this episode, she was determined to get the “bones” written before they gave their input. They had all reviewed the episodes she’d written thus far and had sent their approval and praise via e-mail, which made her feel all the more confident about building the David McKenzie storyline.

A knock on her office door brought her back to reality. Within seconds of the knock, Whitney slid herself inside Elle’s office, closing the door behind her. She closed her eyes and knocked the back of her head softly into the door. Obviously the conflict between Nolan and Gina had spread throughout the staff.

“Whit, I love you, but I really don’t have time—”

“Did you know they were a couple? Because I swear I didn’t!” Whitney took a seat facing Elle, who, realizing she would not be getting any more writing done, closed her laptop and focused her attention on her distraught best friend.

“Nolan told me today. Gina was pretty pissed during the table read.”

“Seriously, I never would have done that had I known. I’m not a home wrecker.”

Elle sat back in her chair, realizing just how upset Whitney was. “Of course you’re not. Nolan said it was casual.”

“Not according to Gina. She just bitched me out in my office!”

“How did she even find out?”

“Tabloid. I guess someone had a picture of us making out in his car after the wrap party. They’re trying to pass it off as recent.”

Whitney’s dark hair spilled down her arms as she pretended to bash her head slowly into Elle’s desk.

“Ugh, that happens all the time, though, right?”

“I know, but Gina’s not buying it. And I guess they started heating up this summer . . . way after Nolan and I hooked up.”

“I’m assuming you told her this?”

“Of course I did. But apparently they’ve been sleeping together off and on for months . . . like since we started filming last season.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. I had no clue.” Elle wondered how so much could be happening right under her nose. Was she oblivious? Or were they just talented at sneaking around?

“No one did. They were like ninjas. So stealth.”

“Stealth sex ninjas,” Elle added with a chuckle before diving into her drawer for reinforcements. Her hand dug through several stacked packages of candy.

“Please tell me you have Swedish Fish.”

Elle grabbed one of the yellow boxes with the signature red writing. It was their favorite, the very first thing that bonded them. Years earlier, during their first one-on-one meeting, Elle had offered Whitney some Swedish Fish. They’d bonded over sweets ever since. She poked a finger into the side of the box, tearing off the top and popping the inside bag to reveal the delectable smell of syrupy sugar in the form of little fish. She offered them to Whitney first, who grabbed the box and held them close to her chest as she scooped them in.

Elle rolled her eyes. “No worries, I’m not hungry or anything.”

“Oh.” Whitney glanced down at the candy box security blanket as she shoveled two more fish into her mouth. “Sowwy.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, dork. Now listen, this is all going to blow over. Nolan and Gina will talk it through and she’ll calm down.”

“And if not?”

Elle did her best to ease Whitney’s stress. “And if not, he’ll still be gone by the end of the season.”

The two ladies allowed themselves to erupt into devious laughter.

“You’re so bad,” Whitney said between bites of bright red candy.

Elle nodded. “And that’s why you love me.”

“Speaking of bad . . .” Whitney’s words trailed off as she wiggled her wicked eyebrows at Elle. “How’s Mr. Gorgeous? Sleep with him yet?”

“Not yet. But I’m seeing him tonight.”

Whitney popped one last piece of candy in her mouth before handing the almost-empty box back to Elle. Elle peered into the box before giving Whitney a look of surprise. How on earth did she remain so skinny with that appetite? She was like a tornado of hunger.

“So . . . is tonight the night?”

“Maybe.” Now it was Elle’s turn to clutch the box of candy like a fiend. She bit the head off one of the innocent candies, savoring the mixture of cherry and strawberry sweetness in her mouth.

“You know you want to. Let your hair down, Elle. I know you can do it.”

Elle dropped the box of candy back into her emergency drawer, grabbing a wet wipe for her hands. She smirked at her best friend. “Whatever, home wrecker.”

Luke arrived promptly that evening, buzzing at the iron gate at the base of her driveway. Originally, she’d owned a condo when she moved to Santa Monica, but when the show rose in popularity, she was horrified to find photographers peeping into her windows. She knew they stalked the actors, but she couldn’t wrap her mind around why they’d have any interest in her personal life. Regardless of her lack of understanding, however, their persistence forced her hand. She purchased a four-bedroom Spanish-style home in a gated community, her hands trembling as she signed the ridiculously expensive mortgage agreement. But after settling in, and receiving several bonuses for the success of the show, she never looked back. She’d come to cherish and appreciate her privacy and couldn’t imagine retreating back to living somewhere where her private life could be preyed upon. And with the new star of her show pursuing her in a romantic way, she knew her privacy would be necessary more than ever before.

He pulled into her brick driveway, aviator sunglasses on the bridge of his nose. Elle watched from the window as he exited his SUV, flowers in hand, and strolled to the door with confidence. Quickly, she moved behind the curtain, so as not to reveal she was watching him. She glanced quickly into the mirror in the butler pantry next to the dining room before answering the doorbell.

“Hey there,” he said, his woodsy scent pervading her senses. The sound of his voice, his smell, his confidence—everything about Luke Kingston turned her on. He placed the bouquet of gladiola in her arms and she wanted to burst, to break apart into a thousand tiny pieces. Memories of their encounter in the parking lot swarmed her brain and made her skin throb, aching for his touch.