Extremely Famous (11 page)

The doors slide shut and I can tell that Drew is tense, his jaw is tight, his arms are rigid, his back is too straight. “Thank God we brought our wigs, huh?”
I bump his hip with mine playfully.

Drew’s lip quirks up, but he forces it back into a grimace.

“Oh get the stick out of your rump,” Jane says, slapping Drew’s arm. “This is a famous hotel in Beverly Hills where there’s a highly promoted press junket happening. You don’t think the press is going to sneak in here and snap some photos? Get over it. It’s not like you were naked or anything.”

I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out
of me in a very un-ladylike manner. Drew gives me the evil eye and I cover my mouth with my hand. Then his concentration is broken and he gives in to his smile, his green eyes dancing with amusement.

His gaze
drops to Jane. “Stick out of my rump? Janey, I thought you were above such childish words.”

“I guess your foul mouth is f
inally rubbing off on me buddy.” I attempt to stifle another laugh and fail miserably, earning another side-eye from a very amused Drew.

The doors open before Drew can respond and Jane hops out. “See you later!” she calls out as she turns down the hall toward her room.

We follow Steve to our suite and Drew slides the keycard in, opening the door. We have to wait while Evan and Sal check the place out. Apparently, creative stalkers can get into a lot of places that you wouldn’t think they could, like hotel rooms, childhood bedrooms, and movie premieres. I used to think this was overkill. Now? Not so much.

Evan declares our suite clear and holds the door for us to enter.

“We’ll call if we need you, otherwise dinner at eight,” Drew says to Steve. The three men leave and the door clicks shut. Finally, alone.

Wow
. The Presidential Suite at this Four Seasons is just as stunning as the one in Boston. It’s all creams and neutrals with black accents. A huge balcony spans the entire length of the massive living area, with a view of Los Angeles on the right and the Hollywood Hills in the distance on the left.

I head into the bedroom and find our luggage has been delivered already. As I start to unpack, I hear Drew on the phone. He has a lot to do these next few days. The junket tomorrow, then a late night talk show and a few morning talk shows, it’s a busy schedule.

I glance at the clock, it’s only 11am. With the three hour time difference, we have the entire day in front of us.

Done unpacking, I find Drew out on the balcony, standing by the railing on the phone.

“Perfect Janey… I know… Yep.” He ends the call and slips his phone into his pocket.

I wrap my arms around his waist and stand up on my toes, pressing a kiss to Drew’s perfect lips. He responds immediately, pulling me closer and crushing his mouth to mine, our tongues dancing together
languidly. A low moan escapes from my throat and he stops, pushing me back.

“What?” I ask, hurt by his rejection.

“I won’t be able to stop if you keep doing that,” he says in a strained voice.

“Why do we need to stop?” I
move back in to get more of him.

He holds the tops of my arms, keeping me from closing the distance. “Because, we have plans,” he says
with a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“We do?”

“Oh yeah, we most definitely do.”

He takes my hand and pulls me through the suite and into the bedroom where he grabs his carry-on bag and empties it onto the bed. Drew begins rummaging through the clothes that I just unpacked and throws several things in it for him and some for me.

“What are you doing?” I’m intrigued by his enthusiasm but I’m not really a surprise kind of girl.

“Just getting some stuff for this afternoon,” he says, winking at me with a huge smile on his face.

“Can I help?”

“I got it.” H
e zips the bag and hoists it over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Drew is so adorable and his excitement for wherever we’re going is tangible. It makes it hard to wait and see what he has in store for us. We go down to the lobby, hats on and heads low, and we step over to the valet parking area.

A very expensive, exotic-looking red convertible sits by the curb next to the valet stand.

“Wow, that’s a nice car,” I say to Drew.

He turns and grins at me, then walks over to an enthusiastic kid at the valet.

“Here you go Mr. Forrester, it just arrived,” the kid says to Drew,
tossing him a keychain.

“Thanks,” Drew says as he hands the valet some money and opens the passenger side door of the red convertible for me.

My mouth must be gaping because Drew has to call my name to snap me out of my stupor. I follow him to the curb and sit on the soft leather seat. Drew pushes the door down to close it; they twist up instead of out like a regular car door. He comes around to the driver’s side and pops the trunk which, of course, is in the front of the car, and throws our bag in.

Drew
slides gracefully into the driver’s seat and starts the car. It purrs like a dream.

“What do you think?” he asks, unable to wipe the
childlike joy from his face, his dimple on display for my viewing pleasure.

I g
ently squeeze his knee and grin. “This is the best surprise ever.”

Grinning like idiots, Drew pulls the growling sports car out into traffic and we enjoy our very first road trip together.

We decide to drive up the Pacific Coast Highway from Santa Monica to Malibu. From the hotel it takes about an hour each way and I love every single minute of it. It’s freeing to ride with the top down, my hair whipping around out of the back of my cap.

“When did you learn to drive?” I ask Drew as we cruise down the freeway.

“The usual, when I was sixteen.”

I frown.
“I never learned how to drive.”

I c
an see the shock on Drew’s face. “Never?”

“No
. I lived in New York City, remember? You don’t need a car there, and growing up I always had drivers.”

“Well, you probably won’t ever need to drive. I have four cars myself and I
hardly ever take them out. The thought of you being out there by yourself unprotected?” he shivers.

I roll my eyes behind my sunglasses. “Yeah, but it wou
ld be nice to at least know how.” I think about how ridiculous he’s being. Every other adult gets to drive, it shouldn’t be that big of a deal if I learned.

“I’m not going to lie Syd, sitting behind the wheel of this car is almost as good as being inside you,” Drew says erotically, licking his lower lip as he thinks about it.

“Hmmm, I guess I need to step up my game if driving is a close second to sex with me,” I say as I run my fingers from his knee up a little higher on his leg stopping before I reach his growing erection.

“Don’t do that unless you want me to steer this thing right off the road,” he says in a hoarse voice.

Laughing, I remove my hand and watch as he has to adjust his pants. “Maybe the driving is a little further down on your list than you made it sound.”

He flashes me a wicked smile.
“Yeah, I think you may be right.”

A couple of hours later we make our way back toward the city, detouring off of the highway and into Brentwood.

“Are we going somewhere else? This isn’t the way to the hotel.”

“Yep, another surprise.”

We sit at a red light near the residential area of Brentwood and a car pulls up next to us. We’d been having so much fun driving up and down the PCH that we forgot how recognizable we would be in an open-topped car, especially stopped with a carful of gawkers next to us.

I see the couple in the sedan turned toward us in their seats, not even bothering to hide the fact that they’re blatantly staring.

“Crap, I thought with the hats that maybe no one would notice us,” I say.

Drew glances over and gives the couple a small salute-like wave. They hesitantly wave back.

“They don’t recognize us, Syd. They’re staring at the car,” he says with a smirk.

“
Really?” I glance at the couple again and can see that their eyes are skimming over the sleek red automobile and not coming close to our faces even once. I smile back at Drew. “Awesome.”

The light turns gree
n and our car takes off. “I know.”

“Wh
at kind of car is this anyway?”

“A McLaren 12C Spider,” he says grinning.

“Oh.” I have no idea what that is. Boys and their toys. He just shrugs.

We pull into a gated drive and Drew enters a code to open the huge wrought iron gates. The car glides effortlessly up the long driveway and we stop in front of a massive Spanish style home off of Mulholland Drive.

“This is gorgeous. Whose house is it?”

“Chad’s.
” He hops out and grabs our bag from the trunk. “He’s at the studio getting ready for the junket so he said we could hang out here this afternoon. He thought we might like some privacy considering we never get any in New York.”

Drew takes my hand and leads me up to the garage where he inputs another code. The door lifts and we go inside the house. It’s beautiful, with marble floors, high ceilings and large windows that flood the rooms with light.

We enter the kitchen and Drew finds a couple of grilled chicken and mango salads in the fridge for us.

“Chad had his c
ook leave us lunch.” He says it modestly, like it was no big deal to plan this whole afternoon.

I circle my arms around his waist and press my body against his. “This is the best surprise. I love it. Thanks for planning all of this.”

“Well, I think we needed a break from… stuff. I wanted it to be just us, like it was on St. Bart’s.”

“Let’s eat outside then, just like St. Bart’s.” I
pick up the salads and walk out to the massive patio that spans the entire back of the house. Similar to the Caribbean villa, there’s an infinity pool on the edge of the massive patio, only this one looks over the palm covered yard and then the city far beyond instead of the turquoise Caribbean Sea.

Drew brings out our drinks and sets them down on the table. We eat our lunch and talk about the upcoming cities on the tour and the sights that we won’t have time to see. I haven’t seen the movie yet, so Drew promises to let me watch it on his iPad when we’re on the plane to Toronto.

“Swim?” Drew asks after we finish eating.

“I’d rather lie out for a while first,” I admit. “I’m a little tired from the trip.”

I turn to get the bag and go back into the house to get changed when Drew stops me, pulling me against him and holding me tight. I gasp when I feel the hard bulge in his pants digging into my abdomen.

“Where are you going?” he asks, brushing his lips across my neck causing me to shiver even though it’s warm out.

“To change into my swim suit,” I answer between heavy breaths. “Isn’t that what’s in the bag?”

“It is, but I thought you wanted it to be just like in St. Bart’s,” he whispers.

“What do you mean?” I can barely concentrate with him biting and licking the sensitive spots on my neck.

“We didn’t wear anything to swim in the pool at the villa.”

What?
He wants to skinny dip in the middle of Brentwood?

“But someone could see us,” I protest, not comfortable with stripping here but tempted to do it if it means I get to see Drew’s hard muscles
, dripping wet and glistening under the sun.

“Look around, not another house in sight.” Drew rubs his hard shaft against me again and
his hot breath caresses my ear, breaking down my resolve. “The yard is huge. You can’t even see the street from here. Heck, you can’t even see other houses because the trees are so thick.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and grind into him, causing him to groan into my ear. He takes that as a yes and grabs my shirt and pulls it over my head, tossing it carelessly onto the hot pavement. The sun is beating down but I get chills from Drew running his hands up from my waist to my back to release the lacy red bra that I’m wearing. As it falls down my arms and exposes my breasts I feel like we’re breaking the rules
, which is thrilling.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs as his eyes caress my naked torso.

He steps back and sheds his own shirt and pants and kicks them away, standing magnificently naked in front of me. I reach up and wrap my arms around his strong, tan shoulders as he undoes my skirt and slides it and my panties off in one quick motion. I shiver all over, and it’s not even close to being cold out.

Drew gives me a quick kiss.
“Sorry babe,” he says with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

Before I can protest or even form a word he’s scooped me up and jumped into the pool with me tight in his arms, plunging to the bottom of the deep end. When we break the surface of the water, he laughs at the shock and surprise on my face.

“You ass,” I say playfully as I splash water on him.