Personal Assistant (6 page)

       
The
show was ending and they still had at least one after party to attend. He was
over it. He could feel his energy draining at the prospect of being stuffed in
another room full of people and unable to talk to her.

       
He
let her carry the award for him since he had to shake hands and still try to
escort her through the crowd. One meeting he wasn’t expecting was when they
came face to face with his alleged ex.

       
“Congratulations,
Jonas,” Ivy said. Her date was not in sight.

       
“Whatever.
You could have warned me, Ivy.” He slid his hand to Frankie’s back and pushed
enough that she started moving.

       
They
were barely past earshot when Frankie surprised him.

       
“That
bitch.” She walked faster now. “She said she was sick. Then she shows up with
someone else. Then still has the nerve to talk to you. If I wasn’t wearing this
dress I would kick her ass.”

       
His
entire body thrummed with a renewed excitement. He didn’t care if her offense
was at the fact that Ivy had stood him up resulting in her working a longer
day, the fact that Ivy had lied to her, lied to him, or that she had shown up
with someone else. Whatever her reasons, he just cared that she cared.
Passionately.

       
He
sat next to her in the limo and could not contain his joy. He smiled a real
smile and watched her fume with interest. “Why are you so angry?”

       
“Why
aren’t
you angry?” She pointed his
award at him and he held up his hands as though she pointed a gun at him. She
looked at her hand and then laughed. “I’m sorry.” She placed the award in her
lap and looked at him with those big brown eyes and said, “I don’t like her. I
never did. I always thought you deserved better than that bitch. I don’t care
that she is sometimes considered America’s sweetheart. She always came off as
spoiled to me. This just proves it.”

       
“I’m
spoiled.” He frowned. He was and he knew it. Worse, he hoped others didn’t
react to the “breakup” the way Frankie was. Ivy didn’t deserve the backlash. He
wasn’t happy she chose to go this route, but she wasn’t out to ruin him.

       
“That’s
different.” Frankie sounded sincere. “You can’t help who your parents are or
how you were brought up. You don’t treat people unkindly, you have never
uttered a bad word about any woman you have been attached to in the press, and
you always talk highly of the people you work with. Those are rare qualities
anywhere, but especially in Hollywood.”

       
“Were
you spoiled?” He didn’t want to talk about Ivy anymore. He wanted to know more
about Frankie.

       
“I
wasn’t neglected. My parents worked hard, we lived in a decent neighborhood,
but it can be rough going to school with a bunch of really rich kids. I met
Shay and she made my life, at least back then, easier. I did have to tell her
that I was coming to this event tonight. I want you to know I did not tell her
I was coming here with you, but I just knew you were going to win and if she
caught sight of me on television and she didn’t know I was here, there would be
hell to pay come morning.”

       
“So
did she see you?” he asked. He liked learning this stuff about her.

       
“Yes,
she did. My phone was vibrating immediately. She saw me when you passed behind
me. I guess everyone did. I have e-mails from people I haven’t heard from in
years.”

       
“What
did you say to them?” He closed his eyes for a moment and simply absorbed the
sound of her voice.

       
“I
haven’t responded to anyone but my parents and Shay. They all knew I had
applied for this job. My parents were less than thrilled as you can imagine,
but Shay is about to burst through the phone and strangle me for not telling
her who I was assisting sooner.”

       
“Why?”
he asked, but he already knew the answer.

       
“Don’t
start fishing for compliments. You know very well why. She’s a fan.” Frankie
yawned. “Who isn’t?”

       
“You’re
tired, too?” he asked. He was alert again. “We could skip the party if you’d
like.”

       
“No, sir.
No way.”
She shook her
head. “If you don’t want to go I can send a text to your publicist and tell her
you sprained an ankle or something.
I
don’t have a say in the matter. I work for you. You make the orders, I follow
them.”

       
He
looked at her. He bit his lower lip to keep from saying something he shouldn’t
say just yet. He decided to mess with her. He let out a sound of pain and
grabbed his shoulder. The action so sudden it startled her.

       
“Are
you all right?” Frankie was off her side of the limo and next to him in a
flash. He was definitely all right. Her hand moved over him checking for
injury, seeking to feel what he felt.

       
The
window between the driver and the back slid down. “Home, Jonas?”

       
He
laughed out loud and sat up as she looked at him. “Please, Rob. Thanks.”

       
Rob
had been his driver since he was a kid. He knew that yelp as it had gotten him
out of school more than once in his life. Not to mention away from a crazy
chick or two in his younger days.

       
“You’re
not hurt at all.” Frankie dropped the statue in his lap.

       
It
landed right on his crotch and the pain seared through him causing him to
instantly buckle over. “I am now.”

       
“Sure
you are.” She folded her arms.

       
“You
just cracked me in the nuts, Frankie. Trust me. It hurt.” He sniffed, fought
back a tear. It had been a long damn time since he’d felt that pain. The last
time was on a set and the action sequence was off causing a foot that should
have missed him to land right on.

       
“Oh.”
She slid her hand across his back. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I just…you
scared me with that yelp and I thought this was an act too.”

       
“Good
to know I’m proficient.” He winced.

       
“What
can I do?” Frankie kept touching him. The pain subsided. He took several deep
breaths and closed his eyes.

       
“I’m
okay.” He sat up, sniffed, and shook his head. Took a bold chance and said, “I
can’t very well ask you to kiss it and make it better now can I?”

       
He
saw her breath hitch, paid more attention to the slim line of her throat and
the pulse beating there. He wished there was
more light
in the limo so he could see her eyes better. She didn’t say no. He did notice
that. Two things he knew for sure had to happen tonight. She had to come inside
to return the dress and the jewels. He had to help her undo the back of that
dress. She did not say no. She didn’t say yes, but she sure didn’t say no.

***

       
Frankie
stood on unsteady legs inside the house. She went straight for the living room
and her clothes. Jonas came in behind her. She was still dealing with the
logical side of her brain reminding her that he was just flirting. The hormonal
side of her body didn’t care. He stepped into her personal space and she could
feel the heat radiating from his body.

       
“You
need my help.” He touched the top button on the back of the dress.

       
She
did need his help. There were so many buttons on the dress, some real, some
faux, all of them intricately placed for the exquisite purpose of being
beautiful. He undid the top button, the next, the next, and so on until the
entire back of the dress was finally undone. Her breath was ragged. His breaths
slid along her bare neck with controlled precision.

       
If
it were a movie, this is the part where she would turn around and fall into his
arms for a tongue tangling kiss that made her bones melt and her, well her
knees were already pretty weak. It wasn’t the movies. She didn’t turn around.
Her libido and her logic were in a tug of war over this.

       
His
breath slid along the shell of her ear as his hands slid along the bare flesh of
her back. Her eyes closed, her clit throbbed, her heart pounded in her ears.

       
He
whispered, “Say yes.”

       
Was
there anything else to say? Her head was muddled. Her lust was all that
mattered. She might regret it in the morning. Who cared? If she had him for one
night she could hold on to the memory forever. Breathless, she could barely
hear the word as she said, “Yes.”

       
She
half expected him to turn her around, strip off the dress, and get down to
business. He didn’t. His hands slid along her ribcage, slowly, tracing the
ridge until his fingers met in the front. His hands slid up to cup her breasts
at the same time his lips opened and closed over the shell of her ear. She was
dizzy.

       
“Your
heart is beating so fast,” he whispered. His lips moved to kiss the space below
where her earlobe and neck met. His thumb stretched to rub across already erect
nipples. She whimpered. The double assault of his gentle kisses and the hands
caressing her breasts had her panting, growing desperate in her need.

       
Boldly,
he slid one of his hands down towards her navel. His fingers touched the band
of her panties and she gasped audibly. Her legs were actually trembling. It was
too much, he was too much. His fingers slid along the outside of the thin
cotton and cupped her
mons
.

       
“Damn,
you’re so responsive.” He kissed her right at the juncture of her neck and
shoulder.

       
The
moment his fingers curved to pull at the elastic of her panties the cell phone
in her purse began ringing. Not just any tune, the ringtone associated with his
publicist. The sound began to sober her.

       
“I
need to get that,” she whispered. Her eyes flew open. Awareness began to sink
in. The ringtone sounded a second time. “It’s your publicist.”

       
His
hands had stilled, but not because he was stopping. They stilled to hold her in
place against the slightest efforts to move toward the purse.

       
“I
have to get it.” Frankie found her voice. “It’s my job.”

       
“Your
job is to take care of me, not my publicist.”

       
“Telling
your publicist why you are not doing your job is part of my job. Let go.” He
held firm.

       
The
phone rang again. The fact that she called three times irked Frankie.

       
“If
you take that call you can tell her she is fired.” He punctuated the statement
with a squeeze of both hands in their respective locations. Her body wanted to
listen to him. Her mind was not having it.

       
“It’s
not just
your
reputation.
My
name is listed as your first line for
contacts. I am
the
contact.” Frankie
took a step forward and he let her pull away from him. She missed his touch
instantly. “It’s in my contract to answer that damn phone and if I do nothing
else, I assure you, I will do that.”

       
She
picked up the delicately embroidered bag she had tossed on the chair. She
wanted to go back in time to change the moment she took it off vibrate and put
it on ringer. Grabbing the phone she tried not to sound out of breath, but
failed. “Hi. Sorry. I meant to call you.”

       
The
woman on the other end was unhappy and understandably so.

       
Frankie
listened and replied, “Yes, I know I sound out of breath. He stepped off a step
to let someone by and rolled his ankle. I had to get him in bed, elevate his
foot, and put some ice on it.”

       
His
publicist was a little more civil now that she had an excuse for why he wasn’t
at the after party.

       
Frankie
needed to defend him further as his publicist was still questioning the
validity of the story. “Look, I don’t know what you think you know about him,
but he moved to let an older couple through, took a wrong step, and now he’s
laid up. He works hard. He’s been up all day. Your job is to fix this so it
doesn’t look bad for him.”

       
She
couldn’t look at him. Frankie was lying on his behalf, but if she looked at him
she wouldn’t be able to maintain her outrage at the inconsiderate woman on the
other end of the phone reminding Frankie that it was
her
job to answer the phone.