Private Passions
Authors: Jami Alden
Tags: #bella andre, #sylvia day, #romance erotic, #romance contemporary, #maya banks, #sexy romance
Jami Alden
Copyright © 2012 Jami Alden
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Former Green Beret Daniel "Deck" Decker has
spent the last five years keeping A-List actress Jane Bowden's body
safe - and his hands to himself. A professional to the core, Deck
would never mix business with pleasure, especially when Jane has
always kept the relationship strictly business. But that all
changes one hot night when Jane, dealt a blow by the tabloids,
turns to Deck for comfort. What starts as a consoling embrace
quickly turns passionate, and Deck's long simmering desire can no
longer be controlled. But when harsh reality intrudes, any hope
Deck has that their steamy night is the start of a new chapter in
their relationship is demolished.
Jane Bowden is used to living her life under
a microscope. But in the wake of a very public divorce where Jane
was made to look - and feel - very much the fool, she's even more
careful not to make any wrong moves. She knows that if the press
finds out she's sleeping with her bodyguard, they'll paint her as
the pathetic woman on the rebound and Deck as a scheming
opportunist. But before Jane can talk to Deck about when and how
they can reveal the truth, Deck quits. Heartbroken, Jane realizes
that while she thought this was the start of something real, Deck
only wanted a one night stand.
But when disaster strikes and Jane’s most
secret fantasies are leaked to the press, Deck is determined to
convince Jane that the key to her happiness is making her private
passions a reality.
"You
don't think the color is too bright?" Jane Bowden scrutinized her
reflection in the floor length mirror, as Mira, her stylist
smoothed the green silk fabric so it draped just so.
"Not it all! It will totally pop against the
red carpet and it brings out the green in your eyes. Plus the fit
is... so flattering."
"
So
flattering," Echoed Claud, her
hair and makeup guy, who was circling her with a can of industrial
strength hair spray, carefully placing every honey blond strand so
the waves cascaded over her left shoulder. "The way it falls, it
makes you look like a Roman goddess.:
Jane hid her grimace behind a grateful smile.
She knew they were full of shit, but appreciated their attempts to
boost her ego. The fact was, whether the one shoulder, drapey green
silk was flattering or not, it was Jane's only option for the
Golden Globes this year. As she had every year for the past four
they'd been working together, Mira had shown up, her arms laden
with dresses sent over from top designers. Any one of them would
have sold their firstborn to have Jane Bowden, once a top paid
television actress, now a financially bankable - if not critically
acclaimed - movie star, wear their creations on the red carpet this
awards season.
To Mira's dismay and Jane's humiliation, all
of the designers but one had sent over sample sizes. Sizes that
Jane had once managed to slip into with little effort. Back before
her fertility specialist told her that if she really wanted to
conceive, she had to gain at least fifteen pounds.
She'd put her strict diet aside and willingly
put on the pounds, eager to start a family with her husband of five
years, her former costar Ryan Atkins.
Now, a nearly two years later, after
suffering through one of the most publicized break ups in recent
history, there was still no baby, now no husband either. But those
fifteen pounds had sunk their claws deep, and no matter how many
miles she ran or spin classes she attended, they didn't seem to be
going anywhere soon.
"You look gorgeous," Claud reassured her as
he gave her one last swipe of powder across her nose. "I promise
you I'm not blowing smoke." He handed her a powder compact and a
tube of lipstick for touch ups. Jane put them in the clutch Mira
had provided—gold to match the thin belt circling Jane's waist and
the peeptoe pumps that peeked out from under the floor length hem
of her dress.
There was a last minute flurry of activity as
Mira, her assistants, and Claud packed everything up. They left her
with air kisses and more reassurances that she looked gorgeous and
encouragements to have fun.
Jane heard their chatter trailing as they
clattered down the stairs and out the front door and then...
blessed silence. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and
savored one of the rare windows of time when she was alone in her
house. There was always someone at her house, her housekeeper, a
gardener, the pool guy. And of course, there was Hailey, Jane's
personal assistant, her near constant companion, without whom she
could barely function.
But tonight, Hailey was taking a
much-deserved break as the rest of Jane's crew prepped her for her
big night.
Jane walked downstairs, carrying her four
inch gold heels in her hand so she wouldn't trip. As much as she
loved having people around - especially the first few months after
Ryan left, she had hated being by herself in their nearly six
thousand square foot house in Brentwood—it was nice to walk into
her kitchen and not have to make conversation with someone.
She checked the clock and realized it was
earlier than she'd thought. Dan "Deck" Decker, her personal
security detail, wasn't supposed to be here for another twenty
minutes. Jane felt her temperature go up a few degrees at the mere
thought of him, and she poured herself a glass of cold white wine
to calm her nerves and cool herself down.
Tonight he'd be wearing a tux, she mused,
dreamily circling her the rim of her wine glass with her finger.
Though she'd seen him dressed in formal wear on countless occasions
over the six years he'd worked for her, she never got tired of the
sight of the black fabric stretched over those big, broad
shoulders, the snowy white shirt that did nothing to conceal the
heavily muscled chest underneath. She loved the way the perfectly
tailored clothes made him look somewhat less civilized.
And God, that face, rough-hewn features like
chiseled granite. Jane could so easily imagine that powerful,
square- jawed face up on the big screen. But when Jane asked him
about any acting aspirations, Deck a former Green Beret, who now
worked for a company that provided security to celebrities and did
military consulting for film, had replied, "I'm more of a watcher."
Just the memory of his steady amber stare was enough to make her
shiver.
From the moment she and Ryan had hired him to
head the security team at their wedding, and later to act as Jane's
personal bodyguard, Deck's ever watchful gaze had made her feel
safe. The fact that he towered above her and Ryan—and most men in
Hollywood for that matter—didn't hurt.
And though it shamed her endlessly to admit
it, from the moment she'd met Deck, safety wasn't the only thing
she'd felt in his presence.
She took a hefty swallow of her wine and
allowed herself to indulge, for just a moment, in the highly
inappropriate thoughts about Deck that had increasingly plagued
her. It was embarrassing, really, the way just the thought of him
could send heat unfurling in her belly. The way she had to be on
constant guard around him not to flush and stammer like a
teenager.
Several times Jane had considered replacing
him, only to convince herself that it was actually to her advantage
to have him around so often. Being forced to constantly hide her
uncontrollable attraction to him and her unreasonable jealousy on
the rare occasions he dated was good for honing her craft,
right?
And then there was her other, darker, dirtier
secret... Jane shoved the thought aside. Deck would be here soon
and she needed to pull herself together. She picked up the remote
control off the counter and switched on the TV to distract
herself.
It was a good thing, she thought as she
switched through the channels, that Deck's manner was never
anything but professional. He was friendly enough, and had even
offered his sympathy when Ryan left her for his costar . But there
was never the slightest hint that Jane's feelings were
reciprocated.
Which was good, she repeated, ignoring the
way her stomach twisted in dismay. It would never work, and the
last thing she needed was yet another failed relationship for the
press to sink their teeth into. Poor pathetic Jane Bowden, trying
to pick up the pieces of her sad love life by fooling around with
her body guard.
"The couple broke the news just minutes ago
as the rest of Hollywood prepares to hit the red carpet at
tonight's Golden Globe ceremony."
Jane's gaze froze on the too familiar faces
shown in closeup on the screen. Her ex-husband, Ryan, looked out at
the camera with his too blue to be believed eyes and his charmingly
crooked smile. In keeping with the edgier persona he'd adopted
since he'd hooked up with Katya Morgan on the set of a suspense
thriller last year, his jaw was scruffy with stubble and his
tousled hair was nearly to his shoulders.
Next to him was Katya, her dark brown hair a
stark contrast to her porcelain skin, her huge blue eyes and full
lips giving her delicate features an exotic cast.
Jane felt the familiar acid burn in her
stomach at the sight of them and took another gulp of wine in an
effort to quell it. It wasn't so much pain or sadness at the loss
of Ryan and what they'd had together. It had been nearly a year
since he'd finally owned up to the rumored affair. Though Jane
hated to admit it, even without therapy she'd recognized that there
were a lot of reasons she and Ryan weren't likely to work out in
the long run.
But it still hurt, to think someone she'd
loved and put her trust in could lie to her, brazenly and
repeatedly for months before he finally confessed what the rest of
the world apparently knew. Worse, he'd stood by while Jane
passionately defended him and their marriage in the press.
Because idiot that she was, she really wanted
to believe him when he told her the rumors of the affair weren't
true. That he still wanted to be part of one of Hollywood's most
glamorous couples.
And most importantly, that he wanted to start
a family with her.
But a week after the shoot had wrapped, Ryan
had finally told her the truth. That he'd fallen in love with Katya
and was filing for divorce.
Two days later, Jane had her second
miscarriage.
The pain of that memory was so keen, it took
a moment for Jane to register why the entertainment correspondent
was so excited about Ryan and Katya's big announcement.
As the truth sank in, Jane felt all the blood
rush from her head. The wine glass slipped from her numb fingers.
She didn't hear it shatter over the roaring in her ears or feel the
liquid splash down the front of her five thousand dollar silk
dress.
The world seemed to tilt around her as her
legs crumpled beneath her.
Katya Morgan was pregnant.
###
Though Deck had driven up the circular
driveway that led to Jane's hacienda style Brentwood manse hundreds
of times in the years he'd worked for her, he never failed to
wonder why one small woman needed so much goddamn space. Even when
Ryan the douche was living there with her it didn't seem to make
much sense.
Then again, Deck mused, when you grow up
sharing a bedroom with two brothers in a postage stamp size house
in rural Montana, not a whole lot about the Hollywood lifestyle was
ever going to make sense.
