Luxe Glamour (The Glamour Series Book 5) (15 page)

My heart thumped harder in my chest. Desire tightened and pulled upward from my groin. Damn. Now that we’d cut through the bullshit, her charm was winding its way around my heart.

Beauty and charm. A deadly combination for any man, but with my past? Sex was a gateway drug to good times and hard partying. I needed to focus—one minute at a time, one hour at a time, one day at time. Distractions were not something I needed right now. I had enough on my plate with running Pawtown and the upcoming film shoot.

“I’ll walk you back to your dorm,” I said, leading the way. It was almost 10 p.m. and Pawtown was safe, but dark. There were not a lot of lights along the gravel paths.

“Thanks.” Again she flashed me her killer high-watt smile. That smile had been on hiatus since the beginning of her stay here at Pawtown, but now, after being well fed and rescuing a dog, it seemed to be flashing toward me. Yeah, that smile could end me.

Her shoes scraped the gravel. She walked beside me, close enough that I could reach out and grasp her hand. I could stop. Turn her toward me. Press that body, that body with those breasts and the round curve of an ass, press all of Sophia to me, lean forward and kiss that mouth. That mouth that held words that went from sweet to sour to sweet again. I was interested. She was interested. Her body sent all kinds of signals with her smile, her closeness, her hands flipping her hair. But I was hesitant. Hell, I was fucking scared. Not of her and not of being with her. I could have her in my bed in fifteen minutes flat. Have her wet and ready and moaning in another ten. I could make her fucking scream my name. Getting women wasn’t my problem, pleasing them physically was easy. For me, the problem always came from making the wrong choice with wrong girl. I’d never got that right, and had never managed to create that kind of magic.

Was Sophia the right choice?

Probably not. She wanted most of the things I’d left behind in L.A. She wanted the fame and the photos and the fans and the attention. I shoved my hands into my back pockets. I angled away from her and put some cool night air between us and all this heat.

I had no intentions of returning to the Industry. I was fine making the occasional trip to help with publicity for Pawtown and acquire some much-needed donations. Other than that, I planned to avoid the place like the plague.

“So what kind of dog do you think Estrella is?” Sophia asked. She tilted her head toward me.

“I’m guessing a spaniel-lab mix with maybe some collie thrown in. You’ll be able to tell more tomorrow when you see how she behaves. Luis will assess her first thing in the morning. You should try to get back over to the clinic by eight.”

We stopped in front of the Pawtown volunteer dormitory, which was a double sized bungalow with extra bedrooms and bunk beds.

“I thought I was on puppy detail tomorrow?” she asked as stepped up onto the front porch. I stepped up beside her. 

“That was before you fell in love.” 

My words hung heavy in the air. Again I was too close. Like a live wire, desire leaped between us. Her soft supple mouth and those big brown eyes. Her nipples were tight beneath her shirt. Those hips. I fought the urge to grasp a hip in each hand, just below the curve of her waist, and pull her closer. See if she fit against me like I knew she would.

“You think I’m in love?’ Her voice was breathy and her tongue licked over her lower lip.

I knew these signals and they were good signals. They could be interpreted as an invitation from a woman who had made my cock rock hard and had left my heart hammering in my chest. Right now I needed to make sane, responsible, solid—fuck it.

My lips pressed to hers. Heat that had burned slow and steady like bright red embers burst into flame. I grasped her arms and pulled her tight to me. Her body molded to mine and her hands, her tiny delicate hands, were on my chest. Her head tilted back and she surrendered to my kiss.

This was so fucking bad and so damned good all at the same time. Her lips slid open and my tongue caressed hers. My hand roamed down her arm and drifted around to that big beautiful ass. She pressed into me. Into my hardness. My other hand slipped down over her shirt and I felt those full breasts. She pressed forward and into my hand. My fingers circled her taut nipple. She gasped.

My body alerted to her sound. My hand pressed her ass harder, pushing her closer to my cock. Her hips rolled in a small circle. Heat thrilled through me. I wanted to strip off her shirt and wrap my lips around the bud of her nipple. I wanted to slip her jeans down over her hips and press my hard—

The front porch light flipped on.

“Lisel,” Sophia whispered. Her breath was hot and short. She pulled away from me. “My roommate Lisel, she likes to watch late-night TV.”

Sophia’s fingers pressed down the front of her her shirt and she flipped her hair over her shoulder. Uncertainty flickered in her eyes. She wanted something from me. Either an explanation or an invitation. Words that might make both of us feel less vulnerable and make what had just happened okay.

But it wasn’t okay.

I stepped down off the porch. “I’m sorry,” I said. “That shouldn’t have happened.” Her lips turned down and she glanced away from me, crossing her arms over her chest. When she looked back at me, all traces of sadness were gone.

“You’re right, it shouldn’t have.”

Lies. Both of us were lying. I was just better at it, more skilled. I could hear the lie in her voice, but from the way her face looked, she didn’t realize that my words were false. My words had been a horrible inadequate attempt to halt the feeling that burned in my chest.

“I’ll see you at the clinic at eight.” I stepped onto the gravel path that would lead me home.

“No problem,” Sophia said. She flashed me a small smile, not the same one that lit my insides on fire. This one barely lifted the corners of her mouth. She opened the door and without glancing back or saying another word she went inside.

Yep, so much for my good choices.

Trick

“How you feeling this morning, Boozy?”

Angie pressed one hand to her forehead and hung her head over the coffee cup on her desk. She glanced up from her computer screen, but there was nothing warm or welcoming in her expression.

“What the hell happened last night?” Delilah stood at Angie’s side and nudged Angie’s hand with her nose. She was worried. Big sis didn’t usually overindulge. This morning she smelled like alcohol and Delilah knew that her pack leader wasn’t feeling one hundred percent.

“You tell me.” I tilted my travel mug to my lips and eyed my sister over the rim. What had caused Angie to drink like that? Boozing wasn’t in her nature. Sure, I’d seen her tie one on, especially the night she won the Emmy, how else would she have ever gotten into a car with me driving? But big sis didn’t usually drink more than a glass of wine.

She shook her head and clicked her computer. “Who the hell knows?”

She took a deep breath and her gaze flicked around the room—an obvious dismissal of any further discussion on the subject of her plowing through two bottles of wine.

“I hear there was an intake last night.”

“After you got too drunk to feed us we drove into town and picked up Chinese.” I filled Angie in on finding Estrella and taking her to Doc. I even told her about how Sophia had responded to the dog. I left out the tingling sensation in my belly and the hotter-than-hell kiss on the front stairs of the visitor bungalow. Some topics were better left unsaid. 

“It just takes the right dog,” Angie said. “It’s like dating. You can get the wrong person over and over and over again, but then you meet the right one and bam! That one person makes up for all those bad relationships you had before.”

Her words made the muscles in my shoulder tighten. I looked directly at my sister. Had she spoken with Sophia? Was Angie’s example some sort of metaphor for what had gone down between me and Sophia last night? Had Sophia said something? It was only seven thirty a.m., but I knew from experience, predominantly bad ones, that women worked fucking fast.

But I could tell from Angie’s face that she wasn’t pulling one of those Miss Know-It-All trips. Despite the hangover her face looked deeply tired, not smug.

“We need money,” she said.

Angie’s words surprised me. “We just got a ton of donations.”

“Right and those donation took care of a big chunk of our bills, money that we owed, but we need more. Thank God this reality thing starts at the end of the week. Let those dollars start flowing in … fast.” Her attention bounced up from her computer screen. “I hate to say this, but I hope this show is a huge hit.”

An oily feeling mixed with coffee oozed through my gut. Fame. Again. Not what I wanted in my life. The fame monster nearly killed me once and I didn’t want to tangle with that bad boy again. “When does the crew arrive?

“The show runner gets here tomorrow. Dylan is on a set in Argentina, so we won’t see him until the end of the order, if we see him at all.”

A vise squeezed my chest. The TV deal required me to be in every episode. Also, Sophia was meant to appear in each episode too. Dylan’s production company was producing, so at least we could depend on them to be fast and professional.

“What showrunner did they get?”

“Charlie Slam.”

My eyebrow cocked upward. I pretended that I didn’t care about the Industry anymore, but I did care. My nonchalance was another lie to myself. I kept track of the hit shows and the actors and the showrunners … this fascination of mine was a dark secret that had replaced my cocaine addiction.

“He’s good.” I took another sip of my coffee. “He just finished
The Laundry
.”

“You mean the reality show about drugs that almost got the entire cast killed?”

“Yes, that one.” I nodded. “It had great ratings, though, and it became a big hit. They must think this one will do really well because Slam isn’t cheap.”

“Or they’re happy to be in business with the biggest star in the world as producer, a former teen heartthrob now do-gooder, and the model daughter of the other biggest star in the world.”

“Well, when you put it like that.”

“And throw in some cute homeless dogs and cats? Come on! This is a no-brainer. I pitched this show to Amanda years ago … minus Sophia of course, but we both thought it would be huge,” Angie said.

“So why is this just happening now?” I asked. 

Angie tossed me “the look”— the cocked eyebrow and down-sloped mouth. The same look she’d been shooting me our entire lives whenever I irritated or disappointed her.

“You, little brother. You. Would you have ever said yes to this when your bank account was full?”

I pressed my thumb against the lip of my travel mug. “No.”

“Ding ding ding. And that is why Pawtown is becoming a show now. Pure necessity. We are broke and we definitely need more forever homes, and they need a hit show.”

Turk, a one-eared German Shepherd who was pushing nine years, lifted his head at hearing the word forever. He stood and stretched and plodded over to me.

“Hey, buddy.” My hand pressed across his head and that one simple motion, petting Turk, caused my heart rate to stop bouncing at 200-plus beats per minute and come back to normal range.

“Don’t worry,” Angie mumbled toward me, though her gaze was again locked on her computer screen. “Your public still loves you.”

She screwed up her mouth and then pressed her hands onto the arms of her chair. “Dinner? Tonight? Shall we try it again?” She looked contrite as she brushed away loose strands of hair. “I’m kind of embarrassed. Not sure what happened to me last night.”

This morning, on my run with the pack, I’d ruminated over some theories about my big sister. One being that meeting Sophia was the first time Angie had ever confronted her own lost past. Angie had been an “it” girl for a couple of seasons when our show aired. Then I screwed that up and stole her future and her ability to walk.

She rolled out from behind her desk. “How about we go to Big Daddy’s tonight? Burger. Fries. A little country music.” She rolled her chair forward and back and a big smile split her face. How could I say no to my sister? I couldn’t, really. And wouldn’t, for the rest of my life.

“The whole staff?”

“Anyone who wants to go.” She rolled back to her desk and clicked on her computer. “Sending the email now. You think Sophia will want to go?”

Angie didn’t look at me, but there was something in her voice. A twinge of sisterly inquiry. She was fishing. Big sis was fishing for info, but what could she know? No one had seen us when Sophia and I had kissed, and we’d both agreed that it had been a mistake. That wasn’t really true, but that was the story we were trying to sell each other. We were now going to work on a show together. For the next three months. And it wouldn’t be easy.

Shit.

I was not telling Angie anything about last night. Not. One. Word. “I’m sure she would love the opportunity of getting out for the evening, maybe you should mention it to her.” I pushed away from the doorjamb. “Going over to Doc’s now to see Estrella.”

“That’s a good name. What made you think of it?”

My hands scrubbed over the back of my head and down my neck. Heat flamed up to my cheeks. “I didn’t. It was Soph.”

Angie caught the words with a smile. “Ah … you’re using nicknames.”

I shook my head and backed out of her doorway.

“By the way, “ Angie called. I turned back toward her. “Choo arrives sometime today.”

“What? How come?”

“He loved your idea about posting photos of Sophia on social media. He wants to start filming Sophia with his own phone and then uploading the clips to Twitter and YouTube.”

I realized I had less than twenty-four hours before an entire camera crew arrived, but the idea of Choo arriving today and beginning to film me and Pawtown and Sophia caught me off guard. “Fine.”

“See you tonight, if not before,” Angie called. I waved over my shoulder. I walked out of the administration bungalow and into the morning sunshine. I couldn’t fool Angie where Sophia was concerned for very long, and certainly not longer than I could pretend to fool myself.