Three

THREE

W hen we finally reached the inn, it was chaos. First off, people were a bit surprised that it looked more like a ski lodge that belonged in Colorado than a building one would find in historic Maine. I had to agree, but that wasn't so bad. What was horrible was that the line to get checked in had the same snaking velvet ropes as did theme parks and big hotels in Vegas. The idea of joining the wait was not appealing, so once my new friends left me—Jeff was a very smart man and had the groom check him and his family in earlier so they could go straight to their room—I took a seat in the lobby and waited for the line to thin out.

Gemma was sad to walk away from me and turned and ran back to hug me even after giving me lots of love, as had her mother, before they started across the lobby. I promised I would see her again, and with a wobbly lower lip, she left me, waving over her shoulder.

"You must have made quite the impression," a woman said.

Turning, I found the stunning blonde I had seen with my ex earlier. Really, there was only one kind of luck I was having lately.

"Toddlers go crazy for me," I assured her.

"Oh, do they?" she said, laughing. She had a great laugh.

"Animals too. Dogs, cats, small children—I'm utterly irresistible."

"And women?" she asked.

"Nope. And more importantly, not men."

She nodded. "Got it."

"Although," I said because I was undercover after all, "things have been looking up lately."

"Have they? Do tell."

I shook my head. "Tell me about you. Are you here for the wedding as well?"

She made a face. "Yes, sadly. I'm here under false pretenses."

"Oh?"

"I thought it would still be wintery here, and how romantic would that be, on the water of Penobscot Bay, with the snow, and I was promised outdoor snowflake carriage rides, and warm, cozy rooms, and candles. Maybe even sitting outside under tents with fire pits."

I couldn't help my grin. "So what you're telling me is that the yellow tape around everything when we came in and the construction equipment aren't speaking to you?"

She really did have a great laugh, and it was there again in full force.

"It looks like all the winter storms they had here damaged a lot of the paths along the shore, so I'm guessing the carriages and moonlit walks are out as long as the waterfront clean-up continues."

"Yes," she whimpered. "And there's no snow, just rain and more rain, and it's cold, but not cozy, and did you see the fog?"

"I did. It's very Scottish moors out there at the moment."

She threw up her hands, clearly done. "You're supposed to be able to see a lot of little islands from here, but again, there's just a wall of gray."

"At least it's nice in here," I offered, indicating the giant hearth of the lobby. "I mean, if it rains the whole time we're here?—"

"Which it will," she grumbled.

"Which it probably will," I agreed. "And if we lose power, we could all huddle around the fire like they did hundreds of years ago. It will be very…rustic."

We both laughed that time, and she leaned forward and offered me her hand.

"I'm Sienna Donahue, but my friends call me Seni. Tell me who you are, because I think we're going to be friends."

Not likely, but I got why my ex liked her. She was beautiful and warm and easy to talk to. I was betting she came from money as well. As his family was in the upper one percent, that had to be important. "Cooper Davis," I said, taking her hand gently. "Nice to meet you."

"Where are you in from, Cooper?"

"Chicago."

"Oh," she said with a sigh. "Now that is a fun city. If we were stranded there, it would not be the horror show that this will surely be."

"Agreed. And we could have deep-dish pizza delivered."

"That sounds amazing. Are you starving too?"

"Getting there," I said, glancing around.

"My fiancé is checking us in and—oh, here he comes."

I had no one to blame but myself.

"Damie," she greeted him, as the man I used to hold down in bed appeared at her side. Not to mention, Damie was terrible and something he'd told me he hated. "This is my new friend, Cooper Davis. He's marvelous."

"So is your fiancée," I told him, getting up to offer him my hand. "Nice to meet you."

He looked odd, sort of stiff, unsmiling and aloof. And yes, I hadn't seen him in over a year, so maybe this was how he looked these days. But the spark that used to be in his eyes was completely missing.

Standing in front of me, he only seemed capable of staring, and the look on his face spoke volumes. He was not at all happy to see me. But that was okay. I wasn't exactly turning cartwheels myself. At the airport had been more than enough.

"Damie," Sienna said sharply, and he quickly took my hand.

"Pleasure," he said woodenly and let my hand go quickly before turning to Sienna. "Our suite is ready. Shall we go up?"

She squinted at him. "Cooper and I were just saying how hungry we both are, so perhaps if there's a restaurant here at the Overlook, then?—"

"The what?" he asked her as I chuckled. "No, this is the Castine Harbor Inn?—"

"It's from The Shining ," a voice said from behind me. "And that was very clever."

Sienna gasped.

Turning, I found myself facing a man with gorgeous deep forest-green eyes, a square jaw, and short, thick black hair. He was shorter than me by a couple of inches, hovering right around six feet, and I noted how well his suit fit, encasing wide shoulders, a broad chest, and a narrow waist. He was simply breathtaking, the epitome of what one expected when the words movie star were spoken. For just a moment, I could barely remember my name.

"Cooper," he said, and his smile gave the impression he was genuinely happy to see me. And he was an actor, an award-winning one, so I knew he could make me feel whatever it was he wanted, but still. It was nice. "Finally."

The warm, sultry sound of his voice, deep and low, was exactly as it was on screen. I was not disappointed in the least.

"You made it," I said, and figured, what the hell, he was supposed to be my boyfriend, after all. I should just go ahead and treat him the way I had all the others in my life besides Damien, and so I leaned in to hug him right there for everyone to see.

He dropped his duffel instantly, without concern for the six-thousand-dollar bag hitting the floor, and took me into his arms.

I realized as I was clutched to his chest that I hadn't been hugged by anyone other than my family and friends in quite some time. The excitement that rolled through me, the flutter in my stomach, the sparks over my skin, were familiar and missed. I would really have to step up my game to find, if not a boyfriend, then at least a lover when I got home.

I savored the embrace until he let go—I never stopped hugging anyone first—and smiled at him.

Hard to read the look on his face, but if I didn't know better, I'd say he was a bit flustered. His pupils were huge, his brows furrowed for a moment as he swallowed, and then he took a breath that seemed to steady him.

Acting was one thing; doing the whole fake-boyfriend thing was another. I understood instantly and reached up and put my hands around the sides of his neck, holding him still. He needed grounding in this moment, and I was there to give that to him.

"Are you all right? I know it was a long flight because you were delayed."

He nodded quickly, and I watched his shoulders fall, saw him relax into my touch.

"We'll get you a shower and some food," I said with a grin. "That'll fix you right up."

"Yes," he agreed, his voice barely there.

Letting my hands drop, before I turned to face Damien and Sienna, I took hold of his left hand and squeezed tight for a moment, letting him know I was there for him.

"You're Ashford Lennox," Sienna said breathlessly. "I just saw Invention of Darkness and loved it!"

I too had seen the Frankenstein retelling. It had been given a steampunk spin that was, People magazine said, "so apropos in our modern times." As usual, he had been incredible in the movie. He would be up for another Oscar next year; that was the buzz already. He'd won in the Best Supporting category last year for his turn as a cop looking for his sister's killer in The Smoking Room . With sisters of my own, I hadn't been able to see that one, but was not surprised that he had been, again, honored with all the awards possible.

"I am," he said, offering her his free hand to shake. "And thank you so much for the compliment."

She grasped hold tightly, staring at his face. "My God, Cooper, you weren't kidding when you said things were looking up."

He turned to me, and his eyes, though still looking like he was a bit drugged, were glinting with amusement. "Was that about me?"

"Yes, it was," I said with a nod.

"Well, that's terribly good to hear," he said with the wicked grin that had graced many magazine covers, before returning his attention to Sienna. "And you are?"

"Sienna Donahue. I'm here for the wedding as well, with my fiancé."

"Good to meet you," he said kindly, then looked at Damien. "And when will your wedding be?"

"Oh, um, we haven't—there's no date set yet."

Ashford nodded. "Well, congratulations on the engagement."

"Thank you," Damien said, glancing from Ashford to me and back. "How long have you and Cooper been together?"

"Not long," he replied. "But you know when it's right, sometimes in an instant. Don't you agree?"

"I—yes."

I noticed that not only did they not hug, they didn't even shake hands.

"All right, then," Ashford said, looking at me. "Shall we go up to the suite? I'm sorry you were down here waiting for me. You could have gone to the desk and gotten the keys. I left them in your name."

"I think you forgot to mention that," I told him as he let go of my hand so I could pick up my stuff. "And I was not standing in that line."

"I don't blame you," he agreed, looking at the people standing and not moving. "Let me help you with this."

"Where's all your stuff?"

"In our suite. That's what you tip people lavishly to do for you."

"Of course it is," I teased him, and he immediately took hold of my hand again, which he could do, since it was free, as he'd hooked his duffel over my rolling suitcase when he took it from me.

"Come on," he said, tugging gently to get me moving.

"It was really nice to meet you," I said to Sienna.

"And you," she said, speaking to me even as her eyes kept moving to Ashford. "I hope we'll be able to have a meal together while you're here."

"Me too," I replied, not looking at Damien, instead letting the actor I was there to protect guide me through the lobby to the elevator bay.

Several people called his name, and once we were on with two other couples and the doors closed, a woman turned to him.

"I loved you in Blood Tracks . I never missed an episode."

"Thank you so much," he said kindly.

Blood Tracks , a dark, violent, gritty, and sexually twisted police procedural, had been on HBO for six years and had been his start in Hollywood.

"I was going to marry Detective Mark Porter," she told him.

He chuckled. "Shall we take a picture?"

"Oh yes, please," she gushed, and everyone laughed.

He ended up snapping photos with all of them, and when they got off the elevator, they all turned and waved. It was actually really nice. They all genuinely appreciated that he took the time to interact with them.

Surprisingly, once we were moving again, he retook my hand. Funny that in an elevator, with no one else around to see, he still wanted to do that.

"Is this okay?" he asked me when the door opened.

"I took yours first, didn't I?"

"Yes."

"And I love holding hands. I just haven't had anyone to do it with in ages."

"Is that right?" He glanced at me as we began walking down the hall together.

"Yeah, the last guy I was with was not into public displays of affection."

"No?"

I shook my head. "And I was too stupid to understand what that meant at the time."

He nodded. "You missed that he was hiding the relationship."

"I did," I said, confessing my stupidity. "Having a boyfriend was not part of his plan."

"When did you part ways?"

"More than a year ago."

"That's good," he said with a grin. "But be honest—do you have any lingering feelings for him?"

"I do not," I assured him.

"Thank God," he muttered.

"Why thank God?" I asked as we reached the end of the long hallway and stopped in front of red damask double doors edged in white.

"Because I would like to know you much better, and if you're hung up on someone else, I would make sure to keep things between us purely business."

"I see. So you're looking to get laid while you're here for your niece's wedding."

It was fun to watch his mouth open, close, then open again.

"You can be honest. It's always the best way to be."

Quick inhale of breath. "When I received the information about you with your photo attached, I immediately hoped that you were both single and gay."

"Or bi."

"Yes," he agreed, sliding the key into the door, then holding it open for me.

Once I was inside, he released the door and walked me down a short hall that had a bathroom on the right. The hallway opened up into a spacious sitting area with a gas fireplace on the left and a comfy-looking sectional and coffee table on the right. Farther in was a U-shaped breakfast nook with a butcher-block table, and then on the left, a farmhouse-style dining-room table with four heavy wooden chairs and a wrought-iron chandelier hanging above it. There was a small kitchen with a bar and two high stools, and a sliding glass door opened out onto a balcony.

"There are two bedrooms," he informed me, placing the keycard on the dining-room table before putting his duffel and my bags down. I followed suit, wanting my hands free, and hung my coat over the back of one of the chairs. "The one on that side," he said, pointing, "is the smaller one."

I nodded. "What's the reason you're telling me that?"

"I don't—it was just informational."

Crossing my arms, I squinted at him.

"You're making me feel stupid, and no one does that to me anymore."

"Well, two bedrooms is good in case you want to bring someone back to your room. You don't even have to hang a sock on the door. If it's closed, I'll assume you have company."

His brows furrowed as he stared at me.

I smiled back.

"You're going to make me say it, aren't you."

"It's best to be clear," I goaded him. "Don't you think?"

He murmured something under his breath.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"I said you're annoying."

"Like I've never heard that before," I said with a snicker.

Frustrated huff of air, and then he said, "If you're willing, while we're here, I would like to sleep with you."

My stomach flipped. It was not every day a fantasy came true.

"I'm sure this sounds insane to you," he went on, "but it's harder than you think to find a man who's gorgeous, charming, funny, confident, and able to hold my attention for more than a few fleeting moments. I bore terribly easily."

"Is that right?"

"Absolutely."

"But you're not bored yet?"

His gaze locked with mine. "No. Not yet."

"So you want the full fake-boyfriend package for the duration of your stay."

"Yes, I do," he replied, his voice cracking a bit.

"Well, that would mean that during our time here, you can't fuck around with anyone else or you will be relegated to the small bedroom."

"I—"

"Because together, we can take the big one, but if you screw up, you're the one moving out." I arched an eyebrow. "Are we clear?"

"Yes, that—that won't be a problem."

"How do you know? I could be shitty in bed," I husked, feeling my desire for him starting to eat up my voice, making it gravelly and low.

He took a shaky breath. "I don't think so. Not with how you move and the space you take up and how you hugged me."

"You liked that." It was a statement because I already knew the answer with how nervous he looked and the wetting of his lips.

Quick nod from him, and I liked how I was being watched, like he was waiting for what I would do next.

"And the hand holding?"

"Yes."

"I've seen you in public, on the red carpet, on TV. You don't do a lot of touching with your dates."

"That's very observant. You must've been studying me quite closely."

I shrugged. "I look at the men, my sisters look at what the women are wearing."

He nodded.

"I tend to be more hands on with people I'm with."

"Yes, I got that."

"So a bit of manhandling doesn't bother you?"

He coughed. "No. I'm possessive myself when I'm truly engaged," he admitted. "So I like to see it in others."

"It just comes out in me," I confessed. "When I like someone."

"That's good," he whispered, his voice going out on him.

"So you being possessive, does that translate to dominance in bed? Because mine certainly does," I said with a grin.

Nervous chuckle before he bit his lip. "You're being very honest."

I shrugged. "I think it's important you know that if you want to sleep with me, then I will be the one inside you, not the other way around."

"That's good," he husked.

I smiled at him, closing the space between us, cupping his face in my hands. "You like to be held down."

His breath caught, and those beautiful lips of his parted in expectation. "Yes," he whispered, and the sound of him was very sexy.

"You're perfect," I said and drew him forward into a kiss.

He opened for me instantly, inviting the closeness, and I could feel the submission in him, the yielding, as well as his desire with how tight he clutched my biceps.

Breaking the kiss, I grabbed his hand, yanking him after me, grabbed my backpack because that was where my lube packets and condoms were, and led him directly into the larger bedroom.

Once there, I let him go, tore down the top covers on the king-size bed, then shoved him down onto the bed.

"I like this decision-making of yours," he said, chuckling as he toed off his Prada dress shoes and then went to work on his tie.

"Well, you're beautiful, so why in the world would I say no?" I fished the condoms and lube out of my bag.

"I don't—I can show you my last test, had to get one for my latest movie and?—"

"You don't want to use a condom?"

He shook his head.

"Well, you have all my information, so you know I'm?—"

"Yes."

"Okay," I said, peeling my shirt off and leaning over to kiss him.

His hands went immediately to my shoulders, holding tight as he kissed me back, his tongue pushing against mine, tangling, as I took what I wanted and he gave and gave.

When I broke the kiss, I told him to take off the rest of his clothes, and he stood up quickly and started on his shirt. I was much faster, my suit jacket tossed onto the wingback chair close to the fireplace, tie gone, dress shirt unbuttoned as fast as possible, and when I saw that he stopped to stare at me, I smiled.

"You need to be getting naked," I ordered him gently.

"When I hugged you, I thought you had to be all muscle under those clothes, but I had no idea your body was to die for."

I scoffed. "You see this?" I said, sliding my hands up his six-pack abdomen. "You are the fantasy come true. Some of us love our pasta too much and do not work this hard."

"You're hard everywhere," he said, gazing at my groin, where my erection was obvious even through my briefs and dress pants. "And all that tawny, silky-looking skin…"

Tawny skin. Who talked like that? I would have teased him, but the words were making my brain fuzzy. I moved closer. "Touch me, then, and see."

He kissed me, his hands hot on my torso as he mapped everything—abdomen, back up to my neck, then down to my hips—as I got out of my black leather loafers and went to work on my belt.

Something happened, though, all of a sudden, and it was strange. I had the weirdest feeling that rushing with this man was going to put me on the same list as every other man he'd slept with.

"What're you doing?" he asked, his words nearly slurring. "I want you to?—"

"You have sex with everyone this fast?"

He met my gaze. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Why?" he asked, gesturing at me.

"I'm not that hot," I assured him, taking a seat on the end of the bed. "I appreciate your stroking my ego, but I promise that my passion is not that fragile."

He sat down next to me, shifting so his shoulder was behind mine and his hip wedged in tight, as was his knee. Clearly, he craved the closeness, and besides, it was not all that warm in the bedroom without the fire going.

"What does that mean—your passion isn't so fragile?"

I took his hand in mine. "I mean, I will still want you even if you talk to me."

"Talking," he groaned, falling back on the bed.

I started laughing, turning to look at him as he covered his face with his hands.

It was funny. I was shirtless with an open fly, no shoes or socks. He had his shirt mostly on, as well as his briefs and one sock. We were the picture of interrupted passion.

"So you what, pick guys up, take 'em home, and have sex?"

"Yes," he said, without moving his hands.

"Why?"

"Because I like having sex," he grumbled, sounding a bit annoyed, finally moving his hands to glare at me.

"And you can't have sex with people you talk to?"

"It's more like, I meet very few people."

I squinted at him.

"It's true," he stressed, patting the space beside him on the bed.

Lying down beside him, I smiled. "Say more."

Another groan like he was dying.

"I wanna talk to you," I said, putting my hand on his chest. "I'm not expecting more than a great few days and memories I'll use to fill the spank bank for a long time, but?—"

"The spank bank," he repeated, sounding horrified.

I cackled, and his smile was nearly blinding before he rolled on top of me and took my mouth. The kiss was utterly mauling, his hands on both sides of my face so I couldn't move as one devouring kiss became another and another.

When he lifted his lips from mine, a whimper of need tore out of my throat. I wanted him badly.

"Here's the thing," he began, and I moved my hands to his hips as he sat up, his long legs folded on either side of me as he pressed his perfect ass to my groin. I noted his blown pupils and swollen lips. "Some years ago, there was a man. I was crazy about him, but he lived in Oregon and I lived in Malibu. So it wasn't serious, except it was when we were together, which was not as often as I would have liked."

"And when you weren't together, there were other men. Yeah?"

He nodded.

"And he didn't like that?"

"He said he didn't care, as our thing was open and easy, but I found myself wanting more, and I think so did he for a while, but then there was a misunderstanding I couldn't fix."

"Lemme guess: he caught you with another guy."

He shook his head, splaying his hands on my chest as he moved forward and back over my very hard erection.

"He found a man in my bed whom I'd slept with in the past, but not that time. When I was in the town where he lived, once we had an agreement, I was monogamous."

"And he didn't believe you."

"No, he didn't, but he also said we could keep seeing each other."

"But just as friends? Just fuck buddies?"

"Yes."

"But you wanted more."

"I did."

"Even though you lived in different states? You didn't think that was confusing?"

"It was," he agreed, then moaned loudly as I gripped his thighs hard and yanked him forward so my cock was nestled between his ass cheeks.

"You liked him more than you thought."

"I did," he confessed, eyes closed, head back, drinking in the sensations of me moving under him. "I was so stupid. I thought I didn't really need a home base, that wherever would be fine, as long as we could meet up. I had this ridiculous idea that we could lead completely separate, diverse lives, in different places, but it wouldn't matter because all we'd need was a check-in, and it would be great."

"And now?" I asked, finishing unbuttoning his shirt before hooking a hand around the side of his neck to ease him down for a kiss.

The moment our lips met, he opened for me, his tongue there for me to taste again and suck. His whine of yearning made me clutch him tight even as I rolled him to his side.

"Please," he choked out, pulling back to reach his underwear, pushing it down just enough so his long, beautiful cock sprang free. "I can't even…think."

Reaching for him, when my hand closed around his length, he gasped my name. Since I was too far gone for talking as well, I rolled him to his back, rose over him, and looked down into his gorgeous molten-green eyes.

"Please, Cooper, just have me."

"Oh, I will," I husked, then bent and took one of his hard nipples into my mouth, kissing and sucking, giving it a gentle bite before moving to the other.

"Fuck!"

The yell was a good sound, and he jolted under me as I gave the same attention to the second before kissing and nibbling my way down his defined abdomen, licking lower, until the head of his cock was in reach.

"Cooper!" he mewled when I swallowed him down the back of my throat in one smooth glide. I'd never had any trouble with length, and so I sucked and laved, took him in deep and then let him slide free, using my hand as well as my mouth to create pressure and friction and the smooth slip and slide of saliva. I worshipped his gorgeous cock as it deserved.

"Wait, wait," he pleaded, hand in my hair, pulling gently but firmly. "I don't want to come in your mouth. I want?—"

"You wanna make me happy," I growled, and I heard his gasp and saw his eyes narrow to slits of green as he shivered. "Don't you?"

"I do."

"Then you get off, and I'll drink it down. Lemme see you come apart," I murmured, and licked over the head of his cock. "Feed it to me."

He ran a hand up the back of my neck and grabbed hold of my hair, then his cock with the other, and pushed me down over his length, never stopping until my lips were pressed to the base, every inch of him buried in my throat.

I swallowed around him, and he shuddered and came. I'd had no idea he was that close from my ministrations, and I was stupidly proud that I'd caused him to come undone so very quickly. And now I wanted more.

Languorously, I let him slip from between my lips, then took my time licking him clean. When I lifted my head, I found those dark eyes of his on me.

"Come kiss me," he pleaded breathlessly.

The husky sound of his voice, the flush on his face and throat, the beads of sweat on his upper lip, and the rise and fall of his chest all spoke to sated passion. I couldn't stop smiling. Normally, people didn't simply put themselves in my hands, and lately, I hadn't really cared. But Ashford Lennox trusted me with what he wanted, needed, and that meant the world to me. I just needed to figure out why.

"I keep begging you," he murmured. "Don't make me."

"No," I agreed and crawled up his body, collapsing over him and taking a kiss.

He wrapped his arms around my neck, holding me close as I let him taste himself on me, settling between his thighs as he slipped his long, muscular legs around my hips.

"Tell me about the home you thought you wanted," I whispered, breaking the kiss to look at him.

"What?"

I shook my head. "What the hell, man? You have all kinds of awards for acting. You have Academy Awards, Golden Globes, Baftas, People's Choice, Critic's Choice, Emmys, that Screen Actors one, the?—"

He chuckled. "That boss of yours made you a whole list, didn't he?" I noted that he couldn't seem to stop smiling, or touching me either. His hands were on my face, in my hair, his legs were holding tight, and his mouth opened on the skin of my throat when he eased me closer.

"Yes, but that's hardly the point," I said, lifting up so I could meet his gaze. "How do you remember all those lines if you can't keep a thought in your head?"

His groan was a good sound.

"So tell me. I want to hear."

"Fine," he murmured, patting his chest. "Put your head right here."

Instead, I pressed my face down into the hollow of his throat. He wrapped me in his arms and hugged me tight.

"Nice to be held," I said, my words on his skin.

"It's even better to be the one doing the holding," he admitted, one of his hands tangling in my hair.

Neither of us said a word for several moments.

"I thought, back then, that I wanted a home I could return to, and that my partner would be there, waiting."

"That sounds normal."

"It does, but it also makes for separate lives, people living apart. And I thought that would be the best thing for me, but it's really not."

"How so?"

"I don't want to return. I need to live there too. All the time, except when I'm making movies. And when I am, I want to be visited. I want the connection to stay open, a current running between us."

"So you didn't use to need the constant connection?"

"That's right. I thought I could live my life as I always had, basically unconcerned about my partner, untouched by them except when I was going home."

"Also, as you said, there were other people in and out of your bed in the interim."

"Yeah…" He sounded sad.

"So with the one who got away, could either of you have moved at that time in your life? I'm thinking this was before you were a household name?"

He chuckled before rolling me over on my back. "You're very smart. I hadn't done the Jack Ryan movie yet, and after that everything took off."

"And he couldn't move either?" I asked as he pressed his lips to the side of my neck.

"No," he answered after a moment, clearly distracted. "Why is this shirt still on?"

"Try and focus," I teased him.

"I—where is your lube?"

"Where's yours? I have no doubt you came prepared."

He sat up then and stared intently into my eyes. "I'm getting the idea you think I'm forever on the prowl."

"Aren't you?"

"No."

"No?" I couldn't help the snicker that came out. "If I said no to this, which, let's face it, who would? But if I were a monk or something, you would have looked for someone else while you were here."

His brows furrowed, and he leaned sideways so he was pressing against my side, his hand on my abdomen. He liked touching me, that was obvious.

"I wouldn't have, though."

"And why is that?"

He raked his fingers through his thick hair, clearly reluctant to talk about his love life.

"Listen," I said softly, sitting up to face him. "I have no problem being another notch in your bedpost, so all this seductive mojo you've got going isn't necessary. You're you, and anyone would be lucky to be where I am."

Surprisingly, he got up and started pacing. "But see, that's not what I want. It shouldn't just be that, so meaningless."

It hit me, then, and I grinned widely. "You're looking for love."

He threw up his hands as though giving up. The pacing seemed necessary for him to work things out in his head and come to terms with them.

"You're a romantic."

"Yes," he grumbled, sitting down on the end of the bed. "Always have been."

"How many men have there been?" I asked, crawling over to him and kissing the back of his neck.

"Stop that. We're having a serious conversation about my stupid heart."

"It's not stupid," I murmured, kissing his shoulder. "But c'mon, gimme a number."

"A lot," he said after a moment.

"And the guy who got away, you're counting him, yeah?"

"Hagen. His name was Hagen."

"And what happened with him?"

"Oh, he's married now to the guy who broke his heart but then rode back into town and fixed it."

"Now that sounds romantic."

He grunted.

"You could try and win him back now that you're all grown up."

Turning, he scowled at me. "The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Your career is solid now, you don't have to jump through hoops anymore, take movies you're not in love with, and you can choose things you know won't keep you away from the person who's your home."

"What do you mean my home?"

"What do you mean what do I mean?" I snapped at him. "That's what you're talking about. You don't want a million fuck buddies anymore; you're looking for the one who'll ground you. Isn't that right?"

He nodded slowly.

"And simply returning to a house or a spot isn't enough. It's the person who will be your home wherever they are."

"It's a lot to ask," he choked out.

"Not really."

"No?"

"No," I said, chuckling as I pushed him down onto the bed and then lay down next to him. "You just need to make sure you fall in love with a guy who can do his work remotely."

"I see." He rolled his head to look at me. "So I should ask that question right off the bat from now on."

"That's what I'd suggest, yes."

He rolled to his side, facing me, slipping his hand around the side of my neck. "And a bodyguard, that's completely wrong for me, yes?"

"Oh yeah, that's no good. And for the record, I'm a fixer."

"And what, precisely, is the designation here?" He scooched closer and kissed me.

He was a really good kisser. The way he took control, his tongue rubbing over mine, devouring my mouth, was intoxicating. It would be easy to simply give in to whatever it was he wanted. When he rolled me to my back and climbed on top, straddling my hips, I took hold of his gorgeous muscular thighs and heard his breath catch.

I smiled up at him. "A fixer makes your life better before they leave," I said hoarsely, very affected by those languorous kisses he gave me. "That's what we do."

"Well, would you please improve mine and have me already?"

"First I have a question."

"Ohmygod, I've never talked to anyone else this much in my life," he groaned, leaning his head back.

"Is talking a bad thing?"

"Yes. No," he muttered, climbing off me and sitting down, legs folded under him. "What's the question?"

"Tell me what happened with your last bodyguard."

He grimaced like he was uncomfortable, which confirmed my suspicions. Already I knew that Ash Lennox was not the kind of man to force his attention on anyone, and especially not someone who depended on him for a paycheck. He would never take advantage of someone in an uneven power dynamic with him. Whatever happened, he didn't want to say because it would make the guy look bad, not him.

"What was his name?" I pressed him. "Start with that."

"Burke Furniss."

"How long did he work for you?"

" years."

"Who was your bodyguard before him?"

"This feels like an interrogation."

"I was a cop, but I promise, this ain't that. This is just question and answer."

"Fine. Preeya Shah."

"Why did Preeya leave?"

"She was pregnant."

"Did she vet Furniss?" He shot me a look I could read plain as day. "Oh, interesting. Preeya didn't like him."

"No," he said simply, his sigh telling me he wasn't enjoying this.

"Why not?"

He moved like he was going to get up off the bed, but I grabbed his wrist and yanked him down against my chest.

"You are giving off so many mixed signals," he grumbled even as he snuggled in beside me, sliding a leg between mine, slipping his arm across my chest, and kissing behind my ear. "Why do you care about Burke?"

"Because if he was still employed, I wouldn't be here."

"Yet another good reason for him leaving."

"Tell me what he did."

He rolled his head sideways so he was staring at the ceiling. "A month ago, I was in Manila. It was the middle of the night, and I'm not even sure what woke me up, but when I turned to look out the window, I saw that Burke was in my room. And I don't know, maybe he heard something and got spooked, so I asked him what was wrong, and he said, wasn't it stupid for us to keep sleeping apart."

I reached over, hand on the side of his neck, and turned his head back to me so I could see his eyes. "Were you scared?"

"No. I was confused. I think I said, is something wrong, did you hear a noise? I mean, I woke up out of a dead sleep. I'd been working all day, and no matter what anyone tells you, it's hot in Manila."

I smiled at him and got a trace of one in return. "So then what?"

"Then he was all over me, and I was so pissed because right then I knew he'd made a choice he couldn't come back from."

"How so?"

He squinted at me.

"No, I know what he did. I just want to hear what you were thinking."

"I thought, shit, Burke, after this I'll never be able to trust you again, and even more than that, when I tell you no, you won't be able to look at me again ."

"You weren't afraid he'd hurt you?"

"No. Plus, I can defend myself. I lived in North Hollywood, and my next-door neighbors were crackheads."

"So you're a badass," I said with a grin.

"No, but I can get one guy off me even when I'm not really awake."

"So he wanted you, you said no, and then what?"

"Then he tried to make me do what he wanted for a minute, and I kicked him in the balls, probably harder than I needed to, but again, I'd just woken up."

"He tried to assault you."

"He tried to manhandle me, which I do very much like. I guess he spied on me in the past and knew that rough isn't necessarily bad."

"And then?"

"Then I turned on the lights, asked him if he was drunk or stoned or whatever, and he got mad and tried to blame it all on me, and that wasn't gonna fly because I know who I flirt with and who I don't."

"He thought you'd been flirting with him?"

"I don't know. I think maybe it was convenient in that moment, but as I predicted, he said sorry like a million times and went back to his room. It was a mess."

"What'd you do?"

"I woke up Daniella Russo, Dani, at three in the morning, and she came stomping down the hall from her suite to mine in supercute sleep shorts, bunny slippers, an oversize T-shirt of her husband's, and a bunny sleep mask with ears."

Daniella Russo had gotten an Academy Award for Best Actress last year for starring alongside Ash in Shadow and Soul . She had thanked him in her speech and hugged and kissed him when she got back to her seat. They were, by all accounts, very good friends. Her husband apparently loved it when she made movies with Ash, and when a reporter had been snide, saying, well, of course, because he was gay, Apollo Guzman said no, it was because he loved and respected his wife. The reporter had not shown his face for a bit after that.

I smiled and put my fingers in his hair, addicted already to touching him. "So she slept with you so you'd feel safe."

"I mean, I didn't feel unsafe, and I locked the door," he said, closing his eyes, savoring my fingers tracing over his brows, his lashes, down his nose. "But I had no idea what was going on in his head, so yeah, I knew if he broke in for some reason, Dani being there would end whatever he had planned before it started. He wasn't going to do anything in front of her."

"What happened in the morning?"

"In the morning he was gone," he said with a sigh, tipping his head up so I could touch the vulnerable skin on his throat. "He emailed me his resignation, and that's the last I've heard from him."

"Have you reached out?"

"I tried to call, but I'm not going to leave messages or email him. I've learned that communication that you think is clear can be misconstrued."

"I'm sorry that people have taken advantage of you."

He opened his eyes to look at me. "I haven't been taken advantage of, but I've had to involve lawyers, and that's always a pain."

"Do you have any concerns that he took video or pictures of you when you were with other men?"

"I wondered how he knew how I liked to be treated during sex, and of course, since it follows Burke was spying on me, maybe he has something."

"Would you allow me to check on that for you?" I asked, feeling myself bristle thinking of someone Ash trusted filming him or snapping pics of him in bed.

"Of course, but it's been?—"

"So you had no one watching out for you when you were overseas?"

"Nice subject change, and really, if he has video of me in bed with someone and it ends up on the internet, who cares? I've been naked in my movies; it's not like anyone is seeing something they haven't before."

"It's not the same. That's you stripped bare with a lover, which is far more intimate."

"I refuse to worry about this."

"I'm not saying you should worry. I'm saying you let me check for you."

"You do as you see fit," he said, sliding his hands over my shoulders. "You are a very protective and possessive man, Mr. Davis."

"It's good you noticed that from the start. I wouldn't want you to be surprised later," I said, moving so I was looking down at him.

"What?"

"Nothing. I just like looking at you."

"Don't take your eyes off me," he murmured, and I bent and kissed him.

My lips slid over his so perfectly, like they fit, and he opened for me with a small, needy whimper as my tongue slipped inside his mouth.

His arms wrapped around my neck as I stroked and rubbed his tongue with mine. When I rolled him over so he was lying on top of me, he lifted up so he could take a breath.

"You need protection," I told him because it was heavy on my mind. "I can't have you out there with no one to keep you safe."

His lips were red and a bit puffy from my kisses, and he licked them slowly as he stared down into my eyes. "Normally, I would be upset that a man could keep a thought in his head after kisses from me, but you're worried, and that makes me feel cared about."

"And? What are you doing about it?"

"I know. I need another full-time bodyguard," he said, sitting up, then leaning forward, hands on my chest, his interest caught there. "You're beautiful, you know."

"Finish your thought."

"After what happened with Burke, I called Preeya because she now has a security business, and I told her what happened."

"Preeya sounds awesome."

"She's bossy is what she is, and she was so pissed at me."

"Because why? Because you didn't listen to her about Burke?"

"Yes."

"What were her concerns?"

"She didn't like his work history, that he was only in places for one or two years at a time. I didn't think that was a big deal. And the thing is, Burke was a great bodyguard for three years. When he first started with me, there were no red flags, but I can also be honest and say I might have missed things because I was so busy, moving from project to project so fast that I didn't really pay attention."

"So perhaps you missed his more than professional interest in you."

"It's possible, though I can't really point to anything specific because?—"

"You don't remember."

"That would be the reason, yes," he muttered, leaning back so he could slide his hands down my chest to my abdomen and then back up to my shoulders. "Can we stop talking about this now and do something else?"

"Has she been looking for someone for you?"

"You have a one-track mind, has anyone ever told you that?"

"It's been said," I assured him with a grin.

He smiled right back, as though I was irresistible. "And yes, Preeya says she found the perfect fit for me."

"Who?"

"A woman named Bridget Carran. She and Preeya are friends. Bridget was working for a man as a flight attendant/bodyguard/pilot on his private plane, and when she told Preeya she was ready to make a change, Preeya offered her a job at her company. And not only is she lethal and boasts an incredible skill set, but she's also a very creative mixologist."

"I like her already."

"I'm sure I will too. I'm meeting her and Preeya in Turks and Caicos after this wedding."

"Sounds amazing."

"I agree. Now can you please roll over on top of me and?—"

"How do you feel about Burke now?"

He thought a moment. "I feel bad for him. And of course I got to thinking about it after, and the truth is, even if I'd met him on the street or something, and he was never my bodyguard, I wouldn't have been attracted to him."

"Why not?"

"I have a very specific type."

"And what is that?"

"I like annoying men who talk instead of screwing me," he replied drolly.

"Oh yeah?"

"Apparently."

"And what else?"

His grin made his eyes sparkle. "Big brown eyes with long lashes, really judgmental eyebrows, a smile that makes me want to get naked, hands that?—"

"Would we say judgmental?"

"That's your takeaway? Not the part about me getting naked?"

I laughed, which he shook his head over, just as the alarm on my phone sounded, followed by several short beeps that told me there was something on the schedule thirty minutes out.

"Okay," I said, pointing at my nightstand. "I'll bet you we're nearing the time for the welcome dinner."

He had to process that. "I'm sorry, what?"

I loved that he sounded both annoyed and horrified.

"The welcome dinner."

"Is this a wedding or a convention?"

I chuckled, and he groaned.

"Check my phone," I told him. "The code is 8675."

He just stared at me.

"Please, honey, check the phone."

The way he was looking at me, like I was an alien or something, was really strange.

"What?"

"You're fine with giving me your security code, and then there's an endearment?"

I winced. "Sorry, sorry, I tend to?—"

"No, no," he rushed out, leaning over to plant a kiss on me that I felt down to my toes and then back up to my chest, sparking and twinging the whole way, making my pulse pound, my skin tingle, and sending my blood rushing straight to my cock.

"Don't change anything," he ordered and warned in the same halting breath. "You're going to spoil me with all this honesty and trust."

I smiled against his mouth as he kissed me. My alarm went off again, louder than the first time.

"We really hafta get moving," I said when he pulled back, kissing behind my ear as I bucked up off the bed. "And you're gonna make it uncomfortable for me."

"I could?—"

"Get the phone, Ash. And c'mon, we both know you're hungry."

"I promise you, the last thing I need is food."

It would have been a stronger statement if his stomach didn't take that moment to growl like he was possessed by a demon. Everyone was starving today.

I couldn't have held in my laughter if I tried.

"You know, Cooper, I've changed my mind. I don't think I like you at all."

I grinned at him. "No. You like me a lot."

"Perhaps," he granted, and tried to kiss me again before his stomach let out a roar.

"I think it tried to talk that time."

His furrowed brows sent me into hysterics, and I was unceremoniously shoved off the end of the bed.