Playing the Part

a Playing Around novel

Robin Covington

Other books by Robin Covington

A Night of Southern Comfort

His Southern Temptation

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are
used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2013 by Robin Covington. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any
form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC
2614 South Timberline Road
Suite 109
Fort Collins, CO 80525
Visit our website at

www.entangledpublishing.com

Brazen is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC. For more information on our titles, visit

www.brazenbooks.com.

Edited by Alethea Spiridon Hopson and Rochelle French
Cover design by Heather Howland

ISBN 978-1-62266-783-3

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition June 2013

The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks
mentioned in this work of fiction: Teflon, The New York Times, Zumba, Yoda, Inside the Actor’s Studio, Shelby Cobra GT-
350, iPod, Maroon 5, Dirty Harry, PlayStation, Katy Perry, Forbes Top Ten, People, Oscars, Cliff’s Notes, Google,
Photoshop, Chuck E. Cheese, Skype, Tiffany & Co.

For Emmie Dark. You’ve been with me since the beginning—friends over long distance

and time zones. Thank you for taking this journey with me, my friend.

Chapter One

Dammit. She was late.

Piper James mentally bitch-slapped her inner whiner, who persisted in spouting out

monologues of melodrama. She needed to haul up her Teflon-coated big girl panties and
focus on executing the here and now. Yes—she was late to her important meeting with
Charlie Nelson, director of the film adaptation of her book Regan’s Gift. Yes—the future of
her career as a published author of romance novels hinged on how well she consulted on
the movie. No—she’d had no control over the canceled flight in Chicago nor over the loss
of her luggage at LAX.

She could do this. She was Piper James. The New York Times bestselling author who’d

risen out of the slush pile five years ago to kick ass, take names, and make them all a
distant memory.

She glanced down at her watch as she held on to the golf cart whizzing around the

streets of the movie production lot as actors of all shapes and sizes wandered the road in
costumes from all eras—and some eras that had never existed. It was all so exciting.
Creative. Bustling. Hollywood was still one of her favorite places in the world.

The last time she’d walked onto a movie lot, she’d been one-half of the entertainment

industry’s biggest power couple since Brangelina. She’d basked in the glow of the
paparazzi flashbulbs, enjoyed all the perks and benefits, and cultivated the celebrity
image with every red carpet appearance and magazine cover. Her life had been like the
epilogue in one of her novels: she’d had a solid spot at the top of every bestseller’s list,
and Antonio had loved her like one of her heroes.

Until he didn’t.
After that, they’d blown apart like a scene in one of his Hollywood blockbuster action

movies, and her subsequent meltdown had been a game changer. She’d gone after him in
the press like…well…like a woman scorned.

Unfortunately, she’d forgotten just how fickle the media and the public could be and

soon they both grew tired of the angry, jilted fiancé in favor of the newly minted “it”
couple. After all, no one can resist a love story—she’d built a career on that very fact.

Her public freak-out had done so much full-frontal damage that her career as a best-

selling romance novelist was now barely limping along. Her publisher wasn’t thrilled with
her behavior and the negative impact it had on her sales, and this consulting gig was her
last chance to make nice. Her agent and best friend, Chris, had negotiated with her
publisher and the movie producer.

All she had to do to salvage her career was teach the leading man, Mick Blackwell, the

sexiest playboy in Hollywood, how to act like he was in love.

Piece of cake, right?
The driver pulled to a jarring stop in front of a set of large, open double doors. He

hopped out and came around to help her out, with a flourish and a large smile. “The set
of Regan’s Gift, the multimillion-dollar film adaptation of The New York Times bestselling
romance by the very lovely Ms. James.”

Laughing at his unexpected gallantry, she thanked him and grabbed her laptop bag.

Turning to look at the open doorway, she huffed out a heavy breath and adjusted her
glasses. She knew nothing about mentoring actors. But if this was what it took to make
good with her publisher and keep her contract, she’d give it her all.

Two seconds later, she’d breached the threshold, the cooler temperature inviting her to

step out of the hot, California sunshine. For a moment, the interior was dark, until her
eyes adjusted to the change. Empty. Silent. The absence of the usual bustle and noise
caused her to wonder if she’d arrived too late to catch Charlie. But maybe someone
would still be on set. Rounding a corner, she pulled up short at the scene before her.

It was Regan’s kitchen.
Shaking on knees suddenly weak with emotion, Piper observed a world that, up until

this moment, had only existed in her mind. The kitchen, the main setting of her book and
the place where Regan and Chance fell in love, was laid out before her just like she’d
pictured it in her head. Wow.

All the details she’d woven into her books reflected back at her in amazing detail—the

red enameled jars lining the countertop, the quirky ceramic roosters collected by Regan’s
grandmother and passed down two generations, the spot where Chance kissed Regan
and pulled her down to the floor to make love for the first time. It was all here.

She dropped her bags onto an empty table, then eased her way in between cameras,

lights, cords, and other equipment until she stood at the place where the concrete of the
soundstage met the antique, pecan floorboards of the farmhouse kitchen.

A happy zip of energy jolted through her body, making her laugh out loud and twirl

around, arms wide open.

“I think the music video shoot is next door,” a deep, male voice said.
Startled, Piper spun around, tripping on her high-heeled Mary Janes and simultaneously

knocking over one of the ceramic roosters. Grabbing the bulky bird just before it toppled
off the kitchen island, she then clutched it to her chest in a death grip. Looking up, she
discovered the witness of her klutzy behavior—and bit back a gasp as she locked eyes
with the man voted Sexiest Man in America for the last two years.

Mick Blackwell.
Damn. He looked even better in person. Six feet two inches tall, light mocha skin tone

that attested to his biracial parentage, and the most gorgeous set of green eyes. A slow,
sexy smile and firm chest muscles defined by a tight, blue T-shirt and strong forearms

that led to large hands tucked into his front pockets and framing his considerable assets,
hidden behind faded denim.

A rush of desire hit her, making her palms grow damp, loosening her hold on the

chicken. With a bit of effort, she adjusted and tightened her grip on the bird and realized
her knees had gone all wobbly. Damn, Mick was her fantasy come to life.

His gaze unapologetically traveled up and down her body, lingering over the places that

usually got the most attention. She knew she had great legs and full, lush breasts and
tried to dress to showcase them and offset her overly large mouth and short stature. But
she’d float for days on the look of approval she saw in his eyes right now. Thank you,
Zumba.

“That’s expensive.”
“What?”
“The chicken.” He gestured to the bird and stepped closer. He reached out and

everything went into slow motion as his long fingers closed over hers. “Here. Let me help
you.”

The arousing male combination of spicy cologne and the clean scent of sweat on warm

skin surrounded her. His eyes met hers, and the dark amusement lurking in them
thickened the brain-addling lust fogging her brain.

“Apparently these chickens are made in France or something. If you break one, the

prop department will kill you.”

“That’s a little extreme,” she sputtered still trying to balance the unwieldy fowl in her

arms.

Mick eased the bird from her grasp and carefully lowered it back to its safe place on the

countertop, then turned to face her once again, his motion bringing him inside her
personal space. Up close, the amazing bone structure of his face was even more defined,
and even the hint of a smirk on his lips did nothing to lessen the intensity of his
expression.

“I have a dilemma,” he said. His voice was deep and measured but edged with the

rough finish that made him a dream to listen to in surround sound. Piper swore she saw a
jolt of fire in the mossy green depths of his eyes as he moved even closer.

Whoa. Mick Blackwell was hitting on her. And her body was responding like an addict

who’d suddenly stumbled upon a pile of their favorite dope. He might be off-limits, but
that didn’t mean she couldn’t indulge a little.

“What is your dilemma?” She mirrored his movement, deliberately stepping closer to

the high voltage area of his body. Damn, he was like a sexual magnet, the black hole of
hotness dragging her down.

“I don’t know whether to call security or to get your phone number.” His expression

shifted slightly, the twist in his smile even sexier—if that were even possible.

Oh, sweet sugar.
Mick moved in a half step closer, and heat swept over her skin, settling in her most

intimate places. He was the man every woman wanted in spite of his playboy reputation.
Or maybe because of it. She loved men who came with a warning label. And Mick
Blackwell didn’t just have a label—he had a neon “Flammable. Do not touch” sign flashing
over his head.

But she couldn’t let a guy like him think he had the upper hand. Where was the fun in

that?

“Maybe I should call security on you.” Piper licked her lips, delighting in the way his

pupils dilated as he watched the movement of her tongue.

He let out a laugh, flashing a bit of his perfect, white teeth. Apparently, Mr. Blackwell

liked a challenge.

“My mama taught me not to talk to strangers or dangerous men,” she said. “I think I’m

supposed to go to the nearest public area and find a member of law enforcement.”

“So I’m a stranger?” He raised a hand and traced a finger along his lower lip in what

was clearly an open invitation.

God help her, she wanted to follow that path with her mouth. “Actually, I think you fall

into the dangerous category.”

“You have no idea.”
Oh, yes she did.
She had her gaze fixed to his face but knew he was going to touch her even before she

felt his hand, hot and rough, settle on her arm and take a long, slow glide down to her
wrist. Whew.

The blazing sparks against her closed eyelids were in perfect sync with the low moan

that escaped her throat and reverberated in the large space of the set. A year of what
amounted to a sexual starvation diet with only men who were “good” for her had made
Piper a very hungry girl.

But hunger for Mick Blackwell was a very dangerous proposition.
Because while the bad boy was a nice little fantasy, the reality sucked. You could play

with them, have a good time, but you couldn’t let them get too close to your heart.

She backed up. One step. Two steps. He followed when she backed up against the set’s

kitchen counter. She met his gaze and let her mouth curve into a grin at the over-the-top,
self-satisfied smirk plastered across his own face.

“I’m Mick Blackwell.”
Okay, Captain Obvious. Did he actually think she didn’t know who he was? “I know.”
“And you are…”
“I’m—” It dawned on her he had no clue who she was. Was that a good or bad thing?

“I’m the author. I was brought in to help you work out the kinks.”

A puzzled expression clouded Mick’s handsome features, then his brows furrowed in

understanding as he let go of her arm. “You’re Piper James?”

“Yes, I am.”
“But, you’re…” He tracked his eyes down her body, lingering over the places he’d

seemed to want to touch moments before. Returning his focus to her face, he said,
“You’re not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”
“Not you.”
For the first time since she’d met him, Mick looked a little less confident, but it didn’t

last long. In a flash, his expression went back to that of cool confidence.

“My photo is on the back cover of my book. Didn’t you see it?” she asked.
“I didn’t read the book.”
She snorted. “You didn’t read it?”
“No. I read the script.” Mick paused and then pointed at her. “Wait a damn minute.” His

tone was sharp and the hard edges around his mouth betrayed his displeasure. “What did
you mean by ‘help you work out the kinks’?”

Uh-oh. Apparently, no one had explained her job to the leading man. Piper shifted

backward. “Your director brought me on as your acting consultant.”

“What does a writer know about acting?” Mick gave her a tight smile. “No offense,

sweetheart.”

“None taken, sweetheart.” She took a breath and reined in her temper. Mick was mad

and lashing out. This really wasn’t about her. Damn, her therapist would be so proud.
“I’m supposed to give you some insight into Chance.” She cleared her throat. “From what
I understand, you’re not quite nailing this role.”

Mick’s body was a rigid line of steel as he stared her down, the thoughts colliding in his

brain completely absent from his expression. He was a highly skilled actor, and he was
only going to show her what he wanted her to see. Finally he nodded, having come to his
own conclusion. “Guess I don’t have an option but to work with you,” he said, his voice
lighter than before, but not quite carrying over to his eyes.

Piper relaxed the tension from her shoulders and loosened her fingers from the tight

grip on her skirt. Thank God. Mick may have needed her to help him, but she needed him
just as much—consulting with him was her only way back in with her publisher.

He crossed his arms over his chest. With an exaggerated drawl, he said, “So, Piper,

you’re the supposed to be the expert. What do you suggest I do?”

“Truth?”
He nodded.
“Well, for starters, you might want to read my book.”

…

Never let them see you sweat.

Yeah, it was an old quote, but it was what Mick’s father always said about the

barracudas populating Los Angeles. In a business as cutthroat as this one, you always
had to watch your back, your front, and your balls. And he wasn’t about to let his guard
down now.

Three hours after unexpectedly meeting his consultant on the set, in a darkened

screening room Mick reclined in his seat, his posture deliberately nonchalant, making sure
he gave away nothing to Charlie or Piper, who were both focused on the screen as the
rushes flickered by. Not all of it was crap—he was a good actor. The physical scenes were
actually pretty good, but that was to be expected. His acting success was in big-budget
action movies. It was in the emotionally charged love scenes where it all fell apart.

He’d lobbied hard for this dramatic part, against the wishes of his agent, manager, and

the studio. He didn’t blame them—movie-making was about making money. But he’d
pursued the part, even auditioning for the first time in years. He wanted to grow as an
actor, and this was the next, logical step. And now he was renegotiating his contract with
the studio, and part of that deal included projects of his own choice—more dramatic
parts. But if this role didn’t work, he’d lose much of his leverage.

Piper sat beside him, her perfume weaving through the air and around his body.

Peaches. Ripe and sweet, just like her plump lips, which matched the rest of her luscious
body. Piper wasn’t a size double-zero like most of the actresses in Hollywood. She was
short and curvy, with dark silky hair and an amazing set of full breasts. He considered
himself an expert on breasts, and he’d taken one look at the way hers moved under her
thin sweater and knew they were real.

And her clothes? Mick bit back a groan and shifted in his seat, adjusting the tightening

in his jeans. Part librarian and part pinup girl. The combination of button-up sweater,
skirt, and those high-heeled shoes with the strap fastened at the ankle was drool-worthy.
But the key piece of her fantasy-inducing outfit were the glasses. Small, dark-rimmed
specs that made him think of just how sexy she’d look as she took them off in bed. There
was an entire playbook of games they could indulge in with those glasses.

“It’s not so bad,” Piper whispered, jolting him out of his thoughts.
“What?”
“The scenes. They’re not so bad.”
“Truth?” He mimicked her earlier request.
She hesitated. “No. They’re awful.”
“Wow.” He clenched his teeth, frustration at his performance curling in his gut. Once

again, he wondered what Charlie thought she could add to his performance.

“I’m not going to lie,” she said. “Lying is a waste of everyone’s time. I spent the last

year with a therapist, figuring that out.”

“Did she talk to you about oversharing?”
“No. But she did point out that sarcasm is an indicator of deflecting attention off

yourself when you’re uncomfortable.”

Mick released a quick laugh. Spunk. Yeah, that was the word. Piper James was spunky.

And eye-crossingly sexy. She’d turned him on the very moment he’d noticed her on the
set. And she’d responded to his flirtation—giving it as good as she got. As long as she
wasn’t the relationship type, it looked like sleeping with his consultant might be an added
perk to this job.

The lights came up and he drew back, the dull throb in his crotch giving witness to how

much he would enjoy getting her alone.

“So, Mick, what do you think?” Charlie, the director, asked.
“I see what you’re saying,” Mick answered honestly. He couldn’t refute what had been

in horrifying HD on the screen. “But I’ll figure out how to make it work.”

“I’m glad we can both agree that something isn’t working. The emotional scenes aren’t

believable, no matter what we do.” Charlie looked around him, transferring his gaze to
Piper. “You’re the romance expert around here. What do you think?”

“Oh hell, Charlie,” Piper said. “I don’t know anything about acting.”
“Piper,” Charlie continued, “like I told your agent, you’re not here as an acting coach.

This is your story. You’re here to provide a different perspective.

“I can do that,” Piper said, turning her attention to Mick, her face now firm with

determination, “but I’m not sure how much I can connect to Chance again. I’m not the
same girl who wrote that book.”

That got his attention. She kept her expression blank, but there was a story there. A

story he wanted to hear, but right now he had other issues to consider.

This was his first role that didn’t involve driving fast and blowing things up, and he was

surprised it wasn’t working out. Unbeknownst to Charlie, Mick had even pulled in a private
acting coach, but nothing seemed to help him. He couldn’t rely on personal experience in
the romance department because he had none. His expertise with women was getting
them in his bed and out of it as soon as possible. No romance. No building a relationship.
No love.

“Do you think I should talk to Mara Turner?” Piper asked, interrupting his thoughts.
Mara. His costar, and the one who was nailing the role of Regan perfectly.
“No, Mara and usually I work together fine. I didn’t have any problems with my costar

on the John Dark movies, either,” Mick said, omitting his private history with both
women. Mara and Tanya had both been bed partners at one time. He’d been clear from
the beginning that he didn’t do relationships, and both had been completely on board

with the idea. Until they weren’t. So he’d kept it strictly professional this time. He couldn’t
risk that kind of crazy on this movie set.

“You’ve got three weeks to figure this thing out, Mick,” Charlie said, heading to the

door. He paused and looked at Piper. “See what you can do to help him.”

After Piper nodded, Charlie slid out of the room, leaving Mick alone with Piper. He took

a long, slow visual drink of the woman standing within arm’s reach. From the moment
they first met, the attraction had been mutual and hot. The burn low in his belly and his
half-hard erection attested to that fact.

Seizing the opportunity, he took the few steps necessary to bring his body close to hers,

but not quite touching. The space between them didn’t stop him from feeling the
vibration in the air when their eyes locked. “You want to come to my place?” he asked.

“I think I ought to get settled in and grab a good night’s sleep.”
Piper’s lips were curved into a half smile that left him wondering whether she was

messing with him or not.

“You could sleep at my house.” Mick moved closer, hoping his proximity would change

her mind. She didn’t move away when he touched her arm and caressed the soft skin
exposed by the sleeve of her sweater. “I’ve got a big, comfortable bed.”

She laughed, a toss of her head sending her glossy curls cascading over the swell of her

breast. “I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t be getting a lot of sleep.”

“You might be right about that.” Mick lowered his head to kiss her, but she took a step

back and reached down to grab her purse from the floor. When she straightened, the
playful tilt to her mouth did nothing to diminish his desire to kiss her. But that smile also
didn’t bode well for his evening plans.

Piper eased past Mick, the brush of her breast against his arm as deliberate as the eye

contact she refused to break. She halted in the doorway, her expression one of flirtatious
false sympathy that shot straight to his dick. Damn, this woman was playing him and
enjoying every minute of it.

This was the most fun he’d had in weeks.
She fished around in her bag, retrieving a book from it, and tossed it over to him. He

caught it one-handed in midair.

“What’s this?”
“That’s your homework, Mr. Blackwell.”
“What’s the penalty if I leave it in my locker?”
She strode to the door. Before she left the room, she called out over her shoulder,

“Study hard, Mick. There will be a test.”

Piper James was intriguing, sexy, smart—and apparently playing hard to get. Mick

watched her leave, fighting down the urge to go after her and convince her to change her
mind—a totally foreign concept. He didn’t chase women. He didn’t have to. It was one of

the unwritten rules: Become famous. Beat women off with a stick.

He looked down at the book in his hands. A copy of Regan’s Gift. Piper smiled up at him

from the cover, her ample breasts showcased in a V-neck blouse. She definitely didn’t
look like the screenwriters on most of his movie sets—pasty, overweight, and wearing
Yoda T-shirts. Thank God.

Whistling, he pulled out his cell phone and hit the speed dial for the Chinese delivery

place. It was going to be a quiet evening at home, after all.

He had a book to read.

Chapter Two

“Have you checked out Mick’s ass in those jeans?” Chris, Piper’s agent, whispered in her
ear, but the sound still carried across the set.

“I’m working.” Piper willed herself not to look over to where Mick was rehearsing a

scene with his costar. The effort was almost painful. Her automatic reaction was to look—
yet again. In truth, she’d already taken a long, detail-memorizing look at Mick’s backside,
and it was perfection. Firm, muscular, and totally two-hand-grab-worthy.

“If you don’t stop drooling, I’m going to tell Paul you’re eyeballing straight guys again,”

she continued.

Chris snorted in derision as he lounged against the table where they were supposed to

be working. He was quite a vision himself, all six feet and three inches of ex-NFL football
player in khaki pants and a sky blue button-down shirt that perfectly complimented his
eyes. Men and women all over the set were falling over themselves to get a better look
at him, and Piper briefly considered posting a sign announcing “he’s gay and very taken”
before someone got hurt.

“You don’t scare me,” Chris drawled out in his deep Alabama accent, which had

charmed many and served him well in a business requiring lots of sweet talk. He didn’t
fool her, though—this honeybee had a sting when he needed it. “Besides, I’ll just tell him
that you haven’t worked out since you’ve been in LA.”

That got her attention. Paul was Chris’s partner and her personal trainer. He was also

rabid when it came to working out. And frankly, he scared her a little. But her skinny
jeans loved him—a lot.

“You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
Piper glared at him. “Chris, I’ve been here only a day, and I’m really trying to stay

focused on what I need to do. So stop bugging me about Mick. I don’t need the
distraction. I don’t know if you remember, but I have a book deadline looming and I
haven’t written a damn thing.”

“Nothing?” Chris eased his large frame onto the seat beside her, suddenly all business.

His expression was concerned, but it was hard to ignore the frustration that bubbled
under the surface. To his credit, he’d been more understanding than most people at both
her literary agency and her publisher, but even his patience was wearing thin now she’d
passed the one-year mark. But what was the shelf life on heartbreak-induced writer’s
block?

“The publisher still wants the books I wrote before the cheating bastard took off, but

that kind of book isn’t what is ending up on the page.” At this rate, she’d need to give

back the six-figure advance she’d been given by the publisher a year ago, just a month
before Antonio’s cheating and Piper’s public freak-out had occurred. She tried to shut out
the pain starting to pulse behind her right eye and gathered the script and other papers
strewn about on the table in front of her, ready to head back to the apartment the studio
had rented out for her.

A large hand moved into her field of vision, gently taking the papers from her and

placing them into her open messenger bag. She looked up, expecting to see Chris.

Oh. My. God.
“Mick.” Piper’s movements stuttered to a halt with her surprise. “Thanks. I was just—”

Her focus scrambled when their hands touched. Wow. A whisper of his callused fingers on
the tender skin of her wrist and she’d been rendered incapable of speech. Before she
could stop herself, her breath caught with an audible gasp. Mick flashed his sexy, wolfish
half grin as he settled against the edge of the table with all the confidence of a man who
was used to getting whatever woman he wanted.

Oh, right. He was used to getting whatever woman he wanted.
A gentleman would have noted her reaction and backed off a little. Not Mick. He wasn’t

crowding her, but he stayed close enough that she could smell the warm, earthy scent of
his skin. She breathed him in, every female part of her perking up at the proximity of a
hot male.

Giving her a reprieve, he broke eye contact, glancing down at a pile of DVDs on the

table. DVDs of John Dark movies she’d brought with her to review.

“What are these?” He picked up the stack, then whistled long and low. “Wow. There’s a

whole lot of me going on here.”

Piper maintained composure even though heat traveled along her skin and undoubtedly

turned her cheeks scarlet. There was no reason for her to feel self-conscious. She had a
completely legitimate reason to hold her own private Mick Blackwell movie marathon—
research. Plain and simple. And if she also got to ogle every muscle-rippling, bare-
chested, gun-toting, fast-driving, sexy-smirk-wearing, action-packed moment of Mick’s
incredibly successful movie career? Well…

It was a tough job, but someone had to do it.
“I thought reviewing your movies would help me understand the problems you’re

having with Chance.”

His completely lickable mouth quirked up in the corner with self-satisfied amusement. It

would be so easy to give in and indulge herself. But she’d decided that the best way to
handle Mick was to keep him guessing. It wouldn’t hurt to keep him off kilter. She stood a
little taller and tried to project an image that was a less fangirl and more Inside the
Actor’s Studio.

“We have a meeting with Charlie tomorrow, and I want to be prepared. I figure I could

get a better feel for what your strengths are and how you approach your craft from
watching your films. It can’t be that different from the way authors approach their writing.
If you study their books, you can figure out their strengths.”

He moved closer and leaned in so his warm breath caressed her cheek. “I could come

over and help you out. What better way to feel how I work than up close and personal?”

Piper laughed. Her hot button with a man had always been confident swagger with a

touch of wry humor. Mick had both in spades. The combination appealed to the sensual
woman buried down under the layers of hard lessons learned. She was a challenge, and
he was an expert at seduction by inches—like when his lips brushed against the sensitive
shell of her ear. Her body involuntarily arched into his caress.

“Maybe later.” She emphasized her words by stepping away from his field of sexual

gravity.

“Do you ever just say yes?”
“Yes. Sometimes.”
“Another yes. I’ll take it.” Mick boldly tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear.
Her stomach did a flip-flop at the touch, and her nipples tightened under her top. Oh,

he was good.

And apparently, not done with her yet.
“Now let’s nail down some specifics on this ‘maybe later’ business.” He pulled a phone

out of his pocket and thumbed across the touch screen, his handsome face a mask of
determination. “I can bring over Thai, and then we can settle in for a discussion of your
book and movie marathon of me.”

“Oh my God, enough already.” A man’s voice interrupted their conversation.
Piper whipped her head around to find Chris, still lounging in his front-row seat to The

Mick Blackwell Show. Hell. She’d totally forgotten about him in the web of sex, words,
and fantasy Mick had spun.

Chris stood up, his body posture radiating hostility—that overprotective big-brother

thing she hated. He stepped forward, his frame crowding Mick. “Christian Moore. Piper’s
agent and best friend.”

“Mick Blackwell.” Mick flashed a grin in her direction that did nothing to disguise his

interest in her. “I’m not sure what I am to Piper, but I’m working on it.” He leaned
forward and stage-whispered to Chris, “You’re kind of killing my buzz here, man.”

“I know all about your buzz.” Chris folded his arms across his chest. “I suggest you take

it somewhere else. Piper doesn’t need another Hollywood asshole—”

“Chris, shut the hell up.” She pushed between them. Her friend was on rocky ground

with this stunt. “Back off.”

“Piper, are you crazy?” Chris placed his big hands on her shoulders, giving her what she

figured was a warning squeeze, and whispered, “Blackwell is no different from Antonio.”

Mick’s reputation for temporary, purely sexual entanglements was well documented in

every entertainment rag on the newsstands. Protection of her flaky, overly sentimental
heart was the main reason she’d chosen the men she’d slept with since her breakup. Nice
men. Successful men. Boring men. Those men weren’t a whole dessert—just those little
bite-sized portions that were all the rage in restaurants.

Mick was a man-sized portion of death-by-chocolate-layer-cake, and she wanted to eat

him up. She took one last, lingering look at his tempting body and knew she had to tread
carefully. Chris might be a jerk with the way he was handling this, but he was right.

“I’m out of here,” she said, staring Mick down. “And I already have dinner plans

tonight.”

“La Bella, eight o’clock,” Chris confirmed, frowning.
Piper nodded, then turned to gather her things. When Mick picked up her messenger

bag and eased it onto her shoulder, she paused. His fingers brushed the skin exposed by
the scoop neck of her top and lingered there. She shifted, the heavy arousal in her belly
making it difficult to stand still.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” Piper asked.
Mick laughed. “Don’t you have movies to watch?”
Piper didn’t miss the fact that he’d sidestepped her question. She flashed a glance at

him and saw he wore one of those bad-boy grins that seemed to hide a secret. He was
up to something. But she had work to do. Resisting the urge to stay and figure his plan
out, she gave them both a final wave and walked away. If there was one thing she knew
about Mick Blackwell, whatever he had planned was sure to be interesting.

And God help her, she couldn’t wait to see what it was.

…

Hollywood was nothing like New York City.

Piper thought all the people were fake and too preoccupied with physical beauty and

eternal youth. Not that those people didn’t exist in the City, but there they were diluted
by the sheer numbers of regular New Yorkers.

She also had the New Yorker, East Coast bias about the lack of places one could walk

to in this town. For a gal who was used to walking out of her building and into the bustle
of the city, Hollywood was a bit too TV-sitcom perfect for her taste.

But tonight, with her stomach pleasantly full with the best gnocchi in cream garlic sauce

she’d ever tasted, seated in a cozy restaurant, she could forgive Hollywood anything. If
only Chris were in a better mood.

“Are we going to talk about why you’re mad at me?” she asked.
Chris paused. His gorgeous face was blank, but the jump of the muscle in his hard jaw

was his number-one tell. She could read him like a book. Too bad she couldn’t write one

her publisher wanted.

“I think it’s a colossally bad idea for you to get involved with Mick Blackwell.”
“I’m a big girl.”
“You aren’t too big to get hurt again.”
“It’s just sex, Chris.” She took another sip of wine and reined in her frustration at

having this conversation. He loved her—he was her best friend and had picked her up
when she’d hit rock bottom after her flip-out over Antonio. “I learned my lessons. I know
not to get emotionally involved.”

“Maybe your head is saying that, but I know you. Your heart hasn’t changed. You write

romance, for God’s sake. You believe in love like kids believe in Santa Claus. Piper, you
won’t be able to help yourself.”

She gave him the worst death stare she could muster. At least he had the grace to look

embarrassed.

“I’m just saying that you need to quit while you’re ahead.”
“Quitting is for losers,” a familiar voice came from behind.
Piper knew who it was before she turned to see Mick standing next to her table, his

eyes an intense, deep evergreen, and wearing a hot pair of low-hung jeans and a button-
down white shirt. His bold stance and cocky grin said he knew damn well he was a
walking female fantasy. She glanced around the now-hushed restaurant at all of the
gaping patrons. She waved him down into an empty seat, anxious to get everyone to
stop staring at her table. His very presence drew the attention she didn’t want.

“Wasn’t that a line from one of your movies?” she asked.
“Yep. Deadly Menace, Part Three,” he answered, sliding into the seat beside her just

like he owned the place.

She tried to act cool when he grasped her hand, but her stomach did a little “lord of the

dance” routine in her stomach at the touch. Damn.

Everyone around them was noticing him as well, and wherever he went, the press was

bound to follow. When he leaned in close, she could smell him, everything warm and
dark, a complex scent that made her toes curl and her panties grow damp. She needed to
behave, so she pulled her hand out of his grip. “I’m assuming this is no coincidence,” she
said.

He shrugged. “I knew where you were, and I figured I could stop by. I came to have

coffee, dessert, a little conversation. Get to know each other better. Besides, I think we
need to get some stuff out of the way first.”

She looked at Chris for guidance, but he only shrugged his broad shoulders, clearly

pissed at the intrusion. Well, that was helpful. Not.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What stuff?” she asked.
“Tomorrow we meet with Charlie. I have a reshoot of an earlier scene, and he’ll look to

you for serious input on my performance. I want us both on the same page, working
together. I got called to go out last night, so I didn’t get to read your book, but I was
hoping you can give me some pointers on character motivation.”

His hand closed over hers on the table. She bit back a little gasp at the contact. There

was something between them, and she didn’t know how to handle it—not because she
was out of practice, but because the last time she’d felt this kind of instantaneous
attraction it had been with Antonio. She’d gotten in over her head before she even knew
she was in the water. This was thrilling and dangerous, an easy temptation.

She needed to be careful.
“I think with your help, I can blow away this part.” Mick stroked his thumb softly along

her knuckle. In contrast, his stare was sharp, focused, and told her he wouldn’t take no
for an answer. “So, help me?”

Chris cleared his throat, but she waved a hand at him to shut up.
Geez. She was being sweet-talked by a man who’d been given the gift by the Almighty.

Mick had the sexiest mouth to tell his little lies with—if they were lies. She really couldn’t
tell. Her gut said he was sincere, but Antonio had killed off the little voice of wisdom that
had never steered her wrong.

She seriously missed that voice.
Without it, she would have left her bedroom door closed and missed the scene of her

fiancé screwing her ex–best friend on their thousand-dollar, Egyptian cotton sheets.

She’d burned those sheets, her wedding dress, and all of Antonio’s shit in the

apartment building incinerator—had destroyed everything but his ability to continue
screwing her over with the truckload of insecurity he’d left behind.

She looked at Mick. His inability to connect with the character of Chance was why she

was here, and she knew the director would report back to her publisher about her
cooperation. But she knew full well that underneath the question lay a second one: Mick
wasn’t just asking for her help in his portrayal of Chance—he was asking her to go to bed
with him.

Right after Antonio left, she’d been too raw to consider sex with anyone. Once she’d

decided to date again, her only fear was her heart being stomped on, but sex was never
the problem. She was young, healthy, and loved men. With Mick, she just needed to
make sure it remained private fun and games, because she would be crazy to miss her
chance with this exciting, sexy, funny man.

All she had to do was take the leap. She was the only thing standing in her way.
A delicious tingling started in the tips of her toes. What could it hurt? This mixture of

business and pleasure would be a tricky one to pull off, but it would only be for a couple
of weeks. As long as she avoided any negative spotlight, she should coast into a new
contract with her publisher, having indulged in decadence while she fulfilled her promise

to help Mick with the character of Chance.

“Of course I’ll help,” she agreed. The minute the words passed her lips, she wondered if

she’d regret them.

The sudden brightening of Mick’s eyes told her he’d understood her hidden meaning.
Too late now.
“That’s my cue to leave.” Chris stood and signaled for the waitress to bring him the

check. He dug around for his wallet, movements jerky, shoulders stiff. Everything about
him screamed “you’re out of your fucking mind.”

“You don’t have to,” Piper said politely.
“I have an early conference call tomorrow with the New York office. You don’t need me

here for this conversation.”

Chris paid the bill, took his leave with a kiss for her and a terse handshake for Mick, and

before she could say “bad idea,” they were alone. Mick signaled the waitress for two
coffees and sprawled in his chair, long legs extended under the table, his calf brushing
hers when he shifted to speak. She resisted the urge to press back against his weight,
silently savoring the warmth it created in her blood before easing her leg away. They
were in a public place, and people had already noticed Mick. She’d spent a year hiding
from the media. She didn’t want to bring attention to herself now.

“You and Chris seem very close,” Mick said.
“Yeah. We’ve been friends since college at Alabama.”
“Did you two ever…”
“Ever…” Piper watched as he gestured between her and the chair where Chris had been

sitting. What was he… Oh. She laughed. “No. The only dates we went on were official
functions where he needed a girl on his arm.” At the perplexed look on Mick’s face, she
explained. “It was difficult being a gay football player in college and the NFL. I provided
the correct gender eye candy.”

“Gotcha.” Mick nodded, helping the waitress place the coffee and other items on the

table. “I didn’t realize…”

“I won’t tell him. It would break his heart. He’s been staring at your ass all day.”
“I don’t know what to say to that.” Mick blushed a little and dipped his head, the

gesture giving him an unexpectedly innocent air.

It was enticing. Her fingers itched to reach out and see if his skin had also warmed, but

she wrapped her hands around her cup and took a fortifying sip. She needed to keep this
professional until they weren’t sitting in full view of fans with cell phone cameras. She’d
spent the entire afternoon watching him on screen, remembering his smell, his touch, and
wishing he was there. She wanted him. He wanted her. It could be just that easy.

“He doesn’t like me,” Mick stated, reaching for the sugar bowl.
“He wants to kick your ass.”

“Why?”
“Because I want you.”
He lifted his head and nailed her with those eyes. Sexual heat seemed to wend across

the table to grab her by the shoulders and give her a shake.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured.
Now it was her turn to blush. People complemented each other all the time. It was

standard in most greetings, like “how are you” and “have a nice day.” Bottom line: no
one really cared about your day. But she could tell Mick meant what he said, and the
realization made her squirm in her seat as the heat left her cheeks and transformed into
something aching in her breasts.

“You don’t have to feed me a line.”
“It’s not a line. I love the ‘librarian meets Katy Perry’ thing you’ve got going. Very sexy.”

He cocked his head to one side, his mouth unfolding into a slow, sensual smile. “Are the
glasses real, or are they part of the look?”

Piper laughed, releasing the breath she’d been holding. Her hand flew up, fingers

fiddling with the frames. Most of the time she forgot she was wearing them. “They’re
real. I’m blind as a bat without them.”

“Hmm…” He leaned in and whispered, “Will you take them off and say, ‘you’ve been a

very bad boy and you need to be punished’?”

She laughed, the light sound bubbling up and spilling over. Several nearby patrons

glanced over before huddling back together to talk about the movie star and the girl he
was with.

Mick’s tone was contrite. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist.”
“No. It was—” The words stalled in her throat as their hands brushed, his fingers closing

over hers in a move so bold she couldn’t write it off as an accident. Mick had shifted in his
chair, and now he was close enough she could smell the coffee on his warm breath as it
ghosted over her skin. Images of the two of them role-playing—Mick on his knees as she
doled out his punishment—flashed through her mind and set her blood on fire.

Mick stared at her, his green-gold gaze flicking down to watch her tongue moisten her

suddenly dry lips, and she leaned in closer before she could stop herself. Her slight
movement was mirrored by him and then…oh God…

They were kissing. His mouth, warm and urgent, brushing against her own as she

pressed back, searching for that perfect alignment.

He tasted of rich coffee with an undertone of sugar sweetness and something uniquely

Mick. Their position shifted slightly and his tongue, slick velvet, entered her mouth with
no hesitation. She welcomed it.

He wove his hand through her hair, palm anchoring her mouth in the perfect position

for Mick to go deeper with the kiss, to be more possessive. She hummed in approval,

brushing her own finger tentatively against the soft fabric of his shirt, feeling the tattoo of
his own racing heartbeat. Her thighs clenched together under the table, the pressure
increasing the sharp pleasure building in her sex.

“Can I get you a refill, Mr. Blackwell?”
They broke apart with a gasp on her part and a muffled swear on his. Piper shook her

head, the bustle of the restaurant suddenly loud and disorienting in her ears. She glanced
around them, watching as people sat with phones raised, obviously taking pictures of the
two of them.

Chagrin shot through her. God. What made her so unable to behave in public? Had she

learned nothing from her post-Antonio fiasco? She resisted the urge to put her hand up to
her face and block the shots.

Mick recovered quickly, making small talk with the waitress. Piper touched her lips with

her fingers, the physical imprint of his lips on hers the way a hint of her lip gloss clung to
his. The waitress walked away with a little smirk tossed over her shoulder as Mick turned
back to Piper. No doubt or regret reflected in his expression.

Piper wasn’t conflicted about the kiss, either. She wanted him. She ached to have him

kiss her again, to take her to bed. But they hadn’t even gotten out of the restaurant
before she’d broken her own rule. What the hell was she doing?

Panic rose in her belly, its tight grip and violent butterflies making it impossible for her

to think clearly. Across the table, Mick quirked an eyebrow at her, opening his mouth to
speak—and she freaked out, doing the first thing that came to mind.

She ran like a girl.

…

Five minutes later, still sitting alone at the restaurant table, Mick started to wonder if
Piper had shimmied out the restroom window. Though he briefly considered following her,
he eventually decided against it. She apparently needed a moment to pull herself
together, and he couldn’t blame her. Hell, he was sitting down and seriously doubted
whether he could walk a straight line with the leftover arousal coursing through his
muscles.

Mick licked his lower lip, the spicy taste of Piper’s mouth and cocoa-flavored lip gloss a

perfect complement to the coffee. He’d kissed lots of women, on screen and off, but
Piper’s touch had lit him up like the pyrotechnics they used on his movies. He
surreptitiously adjusted his jeans at the memory of how she melted into him, the silk of
her hair sliding against the back of his hand, the velvet of her tongue as it chased his
own. He wanted more.

But the stubborn tilt of her chin and the panic in her eyes right before she bolted into

her impromptu fifty-yard dash told him he was on shaky ground. He needed to remember

that in addition to wanting her in his bed, he needed her good opinion to get Charlie off
his back until he could fix the problem at work. That meant he needed to get “little Mick”
under control and keep his naughty librarian fantasies to himself—at least until she gave
him the green light. If he played this right, he’d nail his performance in the movie and get
to nail his hotter-than-fuck consultant over and over again.

“Hey.”
Mick was surprised to see Piper standing in front of him. Her expression was more

composed, but her quick glances around the room revealed the tension still remaining.
He stood to pull out her chair.

“I should go,” she said, moving around him and heading toward the door.
“Wait.” Mick followed her, caught up with her at the hostess station, lightly grabbing

her arm and forcing her to turn and look up at him. He didn’t like the shuttered look in
her eyes on so many levels—personally, sexually, professionally. The easy chemistry
between them was fractured, and he wanted it back.

“I’m sorry about the kiss.”
“I’m not.” She maintained her gaze for a moment, then dropped her eyes as her cheeks

tinted pink. When she lifted her head, her expression was fierce, her voice low and firm.
“I want to do it again.”

Hell. He really didn’t need to hear that right this moment. Not with her taste still on his

mouth. His dick had settled down but now stiffened in his jeans at her words. He shifted
in place to try and convince it to follow the game plan.

Piper noticed his movement, looked down at his crotch, and rolled her eyes. “But not

tonight.” She turned to the young hostess at the front door. “Can you get me a cab?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I’ll drive you home. I know where the studio put you up.”
“That isn’t—”
“I’ll be driving. Paying attention to the road. Hands at ten and two.” Mick’s gut

unclenched a little when a slight smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “All my body
parts will stay on my side of the car.” He held his fingers up in a salute.

“That’s the Girl Scout salute. Idiot.”
Mick was relieved to see the Piper who didn’t put up with any of his crap was back. He

liked her. “I never said I was a Boy Scout.”

“I bet you’re always prepared, anyway.”
“Seriously, I’d like to drive you home.”
She nibbled a lip. “It’s just that the paparazzi flock you like seagulls, and I don’t like the

press.”

He snorted. “No one does. But in Hollywood, they’re essential. Like plasma.”
“Still…”
“Don’t worry. This restaurant keeps them at bay. No one will see you with me if I drive

you home. I promise.”

“I mean,” she said, her voice going intense, “I really don’t like the press. Or being in the

public’s eye.”

He hadn’t missed the people taking their picture after the kiss ended, but he’d definitely

forgotten the paparazzi who’d followed him to the restaurant when he was wrapped up in
Piper. Hell, he’d spent a lifetime cultivating the press’s interest, so the only time he
noticed the paparazzi was when they weren’t around.

But if she didn’t like the public attention, he’d make sure she was well taken care of. “I

can’t do anything about those people back in the restaurant with their camera phones,
but I can say that I know how to dodge the paparazzi. No one will see us together.”

“In that case…I accept.”
Mick opened his mouth to reply, but the arrival of his car stopped all conversation

between them and pretty much everyone else at the front of the restaurant. He got that
a lot. The dark blue 1968 Shelby Cobra GT-350 convertible with the white racing stripe
was a righteous car to behold. She was his prized possession, and he accepted the
gawking graciously on her behalf.

Piper’s brown eyes were wide, and she was speechless as he led her around to the

passenger door and let her in. He quickly made his way to the driver’s side, tipped the
valet, and eased into the driver’s seat just as she found her voice.

“Mick. This is a beautiful car.” Piper cooed as she caressed the car, her hands roaming

over the restored leather seats.

He tried not to think about how those hands would feel on his naked skin.
“Thanks. Ali is my baby.” He revved the engine a little, loving the feel of her purring

underneath and all around him. If he could marry his car, he might be tempted to take
the plunge. “I bought her and my house with my first big paycheck.”

“Why’d you name her Ali?”
He glanced over and caught Piper watching him as he caressed his car, a bemused

expression on her face. He considered making up a cooler sounding answer but opted for
the truth. “Steve McQueen drove one like this, and he’s my idol. He had Ali McGraw, and
so I have my Ali, as well.”

“Good reason.” Piper settled back in the seat. “Is your house as dramatic as this car?”
“It was, but I sold it. I do, however, have a vacation estate in Hawaii.”
“That’s a tough commute.”
“I have a housekeeper who takes care of it for me, and I get over a few times a year.”

Mick buckled himself in and leaned over to check her belt as well. He’d had them
retrofitted, but in the tight space it could get tricky to fasten them properly. The action
required him to lean in close and touch the sexy curve of her hip. Her body was warm
against the skin of his hands, her hair falling forward to glide against his cheek while the

sweet scent of her perfume filled his lungs. Shit, he was in big trouble.

The intimacy in dark, close quarters of the vehicle interior was dangerous. Mick was

hyper aware of every sound, every scent, every move. The swoosh of the silky fabric of
her skirt as she moved in her seat, the way her breasts rose and fell with her rapid
breathing, the loud, frantic tattoo of his heartbeat in his ears.

The river of arousal swirling between them was a powerful current, and suddenly he

knew why so many people were caught in the undertow and ended up in the backseat in
a sweaty tangle of arms and legs. When Piper looked up and brought her lips within
kissing distance, he held his breath, inching closer to close the gap and drown in her once
again.

A knock on the door by the valet interrupted his freefall into insanity and reminded him

that he was in public, in front of a busy restaurant, and about to violate the pact he’d just
made. All in full view of the paparazzi aiming their cameras at them right now.

Piper hadn’t spotted them, the restaurant security keeping them away from the car, but

these days, distance wasn’t any big deal so long as one had a telephoto lens. With a low
curse, he released the brake, trying to remember what they were talking about.

Oh yeah, his living arrangements. Nice, neutral topic.
“About six months ago I sold my house and moved in with my best friend, Lincoln.” He

easily navigated the heavy Hollywood traffic, took a few quick right and left turns, making
sure the paparazzi weren’t following, then settled back to turn up the music playing on his
iPod. Maroon 5—total sex soundtrack. With a sigh at how the universe was screwing with
him, he rotated to the next song, something with a little dance edge and not so much of
the sensual groove. “My neighborhood was taken over by the baby stroller crowd who
didn’t appreciate my after-hours poolside entertainment. I’m still looking for something
that doesn’t come with a curfew.”

Piper laughed, leaning back against the leather, clearly enjoying the heated seat

upgrade he’d had installed. She closed her eyes and asked, “Who’s your best friend?”

“Lincoln St. John.” Mick braced himself for what always came next. The ladies loved

Linc.

“Oh my God. I love his music. He’s so talented, so emotional, and that voice.” She

practically oozed down in the seat, and he wanted to chuck.

“Don’t delude yourself, sweetheart. He’s a horny, mouth-breathing knuckle-dragger like

the rest of us.” He ignored her snort of laughter and continued to break all of her
delusions as he wove in and out of traffic. “Don’t be fooled by the soulful eyes, the
tattoos, and the hair.”

“Well, he does have terrific hair.”
“Whatever.”
“So if music is the chick magnet, why acting?”

He shrugged. “Family business.”
“Of course. Your dad.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and pushed her glasses up on her nose, the

movement drawing his attention from the road for a moment. Those glasses made him
crazy. He couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted to take them off, along with
every stitch of clothing on her delectable little body.

She was oblivious to his agony just across the width of the car.
“So, did your dad get you into acting?” she asked, turning slightly to watch him.
“He didn’t stop me.” Mick had been in front of the camera since he was a kid, beaten

the “curse of the child star,” and avoided ending up in the morgue or in a mug shot. It
was a miracle, considering how he spent most of his childhood on a movie set, in France
with his mom, or raised by an indifferent babysitter when his dad was in between wives.
“I was bitten by the bug and never looked back.”

He turned into the gated complex the studio used to put up most of their VIPs. The

villas were nice: Spanish-style and luxurious. Piper waved to the guard and directed him
to a spot in front of one of the units, where he parked and cut the engine.

And waited.
He stared straight ahead, hands remaining on the wheel as he cataloged all the

reasons why jumping his passenger was a really stupid idea. The car wasn’t spacious, and
right now it felt like one of those tiny clown cars at the circus. But he was pretty sure
when he opened the door, the only thing tumbling out would be the lust pouring off him
in waves.

“Um…what’s going on with this movie?” Piper unlocked her seat belt, her voice low in

the semidarkness. “I spent the afternoon watching you own the screen in the John Dark
movies, and I can’t imagine you having trouble pulling off the role of Chance.”

He ran a hand over his jaw, the stubble rasping against his palm. “If I knew, I’d fix it.”
“As an actor, aren’t you supposed to tap into your own experiences?”
“I don’t have any.”
“Come on. Just think about a time when you’ve been in love. The first time you met a

woman you cared about. Tap into that, and you should be fine. That’s what I did when I
wrote the book.”

“I’ve never been in love.”
Piper peered at him in the lowlight, and he shrugged. Her face was partially in shadow,

but he could see the questions stewing in her brain just behind the cute little furrow
between her eyes.

“Never?”
“Nope.”
“But—” Piper inched over a bit in her seat, leaning over the center console, which gave

him a birds-eye view of the soft curve of her breasts peeking over the edge of her top.
“But you’ve been with so many women!”

“That’s sex. Not love.” Mick turned to fully face her, his arm brushing hers. Electricity

practically sparked between them in an arc. He should lower the convertible roof and let
out some of the heat burning him alive. He forced his brain to focus on the current
conversation, a confession slipping out before he could stop it. “I thought I was in love
once.”

“What happened?”
“She slept with my dad.”
Piper gasped, closing her hand over his own, fingers twining together with an ease that

hitched his breath for a moment. “Your dad slept with your girlfriend?”

“Yeah, well, that’s my dad.”
“That’s totally screwed up.”
“Since I was seven years old, I’ve spent more time pretending to be other people than

I’ve been myself. My life isn’t exactly normal.”

“Okay. Fair enough.”
She bit her lip and Mick pulled his eyes away before he closed the distance and claimed

that plump morsel with his own mouth.

“Do you talk to your dad?” she asked.
“Yeah, we’re actually pretty tight.” At her incredulous look, he let out a laugh.

Apparently, this wasn’t the usual thing in wherever her Deep South, happy suburban
childhood took place. Maybe not even in the Big Apple, where he knew she lived.
Welcome to Hollywood. Love wasn’t for people like him. Besides, he had no problem
finding a willing partner when he needed to let off a little steam. Why mess up his life by
throwing a relationship into the mix? “He’s my dad. He’s never been able to keep it in his
pants.”

Her only response was a firm squeeze of his hand, and he looked down to where his

fingers linked with hers. She followed him when he tugged her closer, hormones and
naked desire overriding his earlier decision—and hers, apparently. Her hair brushed
against his lips just before he pressed a tender kiss against the soft skin of her temple.
She nuzzled him back. Mercy.

Piper raised her face, her tongue gliding along her lower lip, leaving it glossy and

inviting. Her dark eyes were huge, drinking in every detail of whatever she saw in his
face. She opened her mouth to speak, gave a little shake of her head, and then shocked
him to his core by closing the distance between them.

Mick’s first reaction was to reel backward and make sure the work thing was laying flat.

But who was he kidding? He was one big walking “id,” and Piper James was beautiful,
smart, funny, and kissed him like a porn star. Game over.

He angled up over the center console, weaving his hands roughly in her hair as he

pressed her back against her seat. She moaned under his assault, opening up to allow
him to sweep in and taste the sweet, tender recesses of her mouth. She dug her hands
into his shoulders, twisting the material of his shirt and holding him captive against her
body. Their kisses were rough, hungry, forcing them to take ragged breaths between the
bruising press of lips and tongues.

Mick sucked air into his tight lungs and lowered his head to dive back in. Piper’s hands

pressed firmly against his chest as she pushed him away with determined strength.

“What…” Mick struggled up from the haze of lust to figure why they’d stopped when the

good stuff was just beginning. In shock, he watched as Piper climbed over the center
console, then reached down to release the lever and push the seat back as she straddled
his body.

With a sensuous half smile on her lips, she gazed down on him from her vantage point,

then reached up and removed her glasses, tossing them in her seat while she shook out
the silky waves of her hair. It was as if she’d opened up his brain, lifted out his kinky little
librarian fantasy, and decided to give him the Dirty Harry treatment and make his day.

“What are we doing?” he choked out.
Piper smiled a little wider, then leaned down whisper against his mouth, “Giving you

something to use on set tomorrow.”

Chapter Three

She was only human.

Piper looked down on the gorgeous, tousled, sexy man sprawled under her in the front

seat of this way-too-small car. Mick’s eyes were dark—intense and tracking every
movement she made. His chest rose in time with the harsh pants erupting from his
mouth, the breaths ragged and loud in the silence stretching between them. His hands
clenched in fists at his side, his body radiating the tension ricocheting around this car—he
was waiting on her signal.

She gave him one.
Bypassing the temptation of his mouth, she zeroed in on the delicious expanse of his

neck. The bristly stubble of his five-o’clock shadow scraped the tender inner part of her lip
as she dragged her mouth over his skin, tasting the musky sweetness, the sharp tang of
his arousal. Unable to help herself, she zeroed in on the pulse pounding just under his
skin and took a little nip. Nothing too hard. Nothing to leave a mark. But damn, it got the
reaction she wanted.

Mick snaked one hand around her waist, anchoring her against the hard, muscled

expanse of his chest and the even harder bulge in his jeans. He slid the other hand up
her back, tracing her spine and leaving a trail of tingly shivers in its wake before he wove
his fingers into the hair at her nape. A tug, perfectly balanced between pleasure and pain,
brought her mouth within kissing distance.

If he had eased into his possession of her desire, she might have second-guessed the

decision to indulge in this moment, but he offered no mercy, annihilating her common
sense with the destructive focus of one of his action movie roles. He was a world-class
kisser, the combination of soft lips, firm strokes of tongue, and the sharp edge of his
teeth all living up to the fantasies of his millions of fans.

“Let’s take this inside,” Mick murmured against her mouth.
“No. Here.” Her naughty side was coming out. She’d already checked—Mick had pulled

into one of the secluded parking spots. No one would see.

Mick ceased the fevered mapping of her body, stopping just shy of her aching breasts,

and Piper groaned in protest. He pulled back, his eyes dark and glittering under the
meager lamplight. Full of questions. She lifted up, bracing her arms against the backseat
on either side of his head.

She didn’t need to think about this. She’d made her decision. No, she needed Mick to

live up to his reputation—in and out, no strings, no problems. She lowered her head,
intending to restart the party.

Mick had other ideas. “If I were a good boy,” he said, “I’d point out that we’re in

public.”

“We both know you aren’t that good.”
Mick laughed, the low rumble expanding his chest to brush against Piper’s overly

sensitized nipples. She gasped at the shock of pleasure racing through her body, barely
catching the moan as she bit into her bottom lip.

“What are the ground rules, chief?” he asked.
“We fuck each other until I leave. No press. No publicity. Our secret.”
Mick skimmed his mouth over the line of her jaw, ending his exploration with a moist

kiss just under her ear. Seriously, was there a woman who didn’t love that? Piper shivered
at the warm press of his lips, digging her fingers into the buttery soft leather of the seats.

She gasped as he rounded her breast and squeezed gently. Her already-heavy sex

clenched with the rush of arousal, her knees wobbly under the dual onslaught of acute
pleasure and the strain of supporting a body leaden with desire.

“You make me feel cheap,” he said.
“You won’t care in a few minutes.”
“I don’t think I care now.” Mick grinned, his smile sexy, seductive, and overlaid with a

perfect touch of wicked to make her pulse race. His touch shifted on her breast, nimble
fingers playing with her nipple, the touch dragging the smile off her face as she let out a
long, low moan.

Mick’s smile faded, and he ground up against her core, letting her ride the hard length

of his erection.

Sweeping in, she kissed him—he allowed her to control the kiss, focusing his efforts on

making her crazy by tugging down the neckline of her top and shoving aside her bra. The
first roll of her nipple between his callused fingers set off a series of fireworks in her
brain, overriding any coherent thought.

Reeling from the shock of physical bliss, Piper barely registered his shift beneath her.

But when the wet heat of his mouth closed over her nipple, the universe suddenly
narrowed down to this car. To his mouth. To the wet heat of his tongue against her skin.
She cried out with the rush of heat and arousal to her sex.

“Sensitive breasts.” Mick nuzzled across her skin to flick a velvet rough tongue against

the twin peak. “I love that.”

“You’ll love this more,” she panted, fumbling with his belt and button fly and shoving

his pants down as best she could. She freed the thick length of him, and the windows
fogged up.

“Oh hell,” Mick groaned against the hollow between her breasts. He thrust his hips

upward, silently encouraging her to stroke.

She was happy to oblige.
It was amazing, this feeling of power over him. He was vocal, gasping with each

upstroke, his sounds becoming more desperate as she tightened her grip on his cock.

The heat was building between her legs, and with no way to relieve the pressure her

last remaining synapse centered on one thought. “Inside me. Now.”

Mick didn’t hesitate.
He hefted himself up, rooted around in the glove compartment, and with a sound of

triumph, produced a string of foil-covered packets. His teeth flashed white in the gloom,
and she giggled at his accompanying eyebrow waggle.

“So, you really were a Boy Scout,” she mused. She couldn’t wait to feel him stretch her,

fill her.

Mick sucked in a breath at her touch, recovering just enough to grin and say, “No, but I

played one on TV.”

She giggled, then hiked up her skirt and shimmied out of her panties, throwing them

over her shoulder and into the general vicinity of the vacant passenger seat. Mick had
been busy, and his erection was covered and begging for attention. The only thing left to
do was the fun part. Rising up on her knees, she positioned herself over him, took a deep
breath, and lowered herself down in one swift stroke.

She saw stars. It feels so good, I’ve gone blind.
“Piper.” Mick’s voice was a tight whisper. “Open your eyes.”
She blinked, his face slowly coming back into focus, the deep green of his eyes the first

thing she saw. “I saw stars there for a moment.”

“Well, you are in Hollywood.” His mouth twisted into a lopsided grin that she wiped

away with the first rise and slow glide down his length.

“Oh yes,” he groaned.
They began slowly, still new to each other, but once they hit their stride, hot, short

breaths punctuated their soft moans. Mick lowered his head and added the heat of his
mouth to the inner friction already making her crazy. Piper watched his mouth on her
breast as she clutched the leather seat behind his head with one hand while the other
gripped Mick’s hard chest in an effort to ground herself in this time and place.

The tension coiling in her belly warmed to a liquid lava and slid farther down, filling her

sex with white-hot pressure that resounded in her ears in a thumping rhythm.

“Piper,” Mick ground out. His mouth ran along her skin, claiming her lips in a deep, wet

kiss that went on and on, forcing them to breathe heavily through their noses in order to
remain locked together. Abruptly, he broke it off, his hand at her back, forcing her down
to lean forehead to forehead. Green eyes bore into hers, pupils blown like an addict. “Not
long…”

“Yes.” Piper rode him harder, faster. The faint squeak of the leather seat punctuated

his thrusts up into her body. He was big, filling her, taking her to the edge quickly. She
was going to come without having to touch her clit, with no fantasy playing in the back of

her mind to offset the limitations of her partner. Mick was enough. All she needed.

“Piper. You feel so good. Hot, tight…” Mick’s breath was hot against the skin of her

neck, cupping her ass with his hands, squeezing her, pressing her down onto his length.
He pressed his fingers into her flesh, and the blazing image of his fingerprints in bruised
relief on her skin made her moan. She wanted his mark, needed to know that there
would be something tangible left of this insanity.

“Mick. Please.” She heard her voice, the plea in its tone, even as she was unsure what

she was begging for.

But Mick knew.
He slowed his thrusts, sliding one hand up her back to press her against him. At this

angle, her swollen, sensitive nipples grazed the hair on his chest, the crinkly-soft texture
shooting sparks down her belly to the place where they were joined. Her clit rubbed
against his pelvic bone with each movement, and she began the slow slide into the liquid
gold of her orgasm.

“Look at me,” Mick demanded, his voice dark and rough and so unlike his usual

controlled tone. She opened her eyes, so close to his face their breath mingled on each
other’s lips, the space between them almost nonexistent.

“Mick—”
He continued the slow thrusts up into her body, the tempo driving her crazy, keeping

her on the edge of her release. The bliss was shimmering on the boundary of this world,
which now consisted only of the two of them, in the heated confines of this car, the air
redolent with sex, desire, and passion.

“I knew…” he said, his words in perfect cadence with the slow glide in and out, filing

her after leaving her aching and empty, “the minute I saw you, I knew I had to have
you.”

“Yes.” Piper took over the rhythm, faster, faster. She needed relief, was dying to see

Mick come. He was gorgeous. The dim light from the streetlamps cast deep shadows on
his dark skin, highlighting the angular bone structure and hard edges of his face. Such a
contrast to his kiss-swollen lips and lust-softened eyes. “I want to see you come.”

“You first,” Mick said, punctuating the point with a lick to her bottom lip and the glide of

his hand down her belly until he found her clit. It didn’t take long—a press of his thumb
against her clit, a whisper of a caress, and she was slammed with pleasure. Skin tingling
and supersensitive as her orgasm detonated and shattered all coherent thought. It was
like one of the scenes in his movies—the initial charge devastating in the best possible
way and the rolling succession of secondary explosions pushing her higher and higher.

A rumble started low in his chest and escaped as he arched his neck, exposing the sexy

expanse of skin. His eyes shut briefly, and when they opened, the lust roiling in the dark
green depths riveted her to the spot as she watched as he rode out his own orgasm.

Damn, he was beautiful. Exposing all of his need to her without embarrassment or

guile. She would never erase this imprint from her mind.

Time passed in the dark, heated interior of the car. Piper leaned against Mick, listening

to the gradual slowdown of his breathing, letting the gentle slide of his hands over her
back keep her anchored there with him, his still half-hard cock buried inside her. She was
floaty, relaxed, buzzing with the endorphins provided by the orgasm of the century.

“Why don’t we take this inside?” His voice was a low murmur, felt against the skin of

her shoulder where his mouth was.

Tension edged up her spine. She unwound herself from him, careful to mind the

position of arms, legs, and important man parts, and landed with a soft thud against the
leather of the passenger seat. She groped around the floorboards, locating her panties,
then shoved them in her purse.

Her hands were shaking a little, and while she wanted to blame it on the post-sex

adrenaline buzz, that wasn’t the cause. She didn’t like it one little bit the way her
stomach did the shimmy when Mick suggested going for round two. Mick was dangerous
territory. The sex freaked her out a little, and she needed to make sure this stayed what
it was. Purely physical. That was all.

“I take it from the silence coming from your side of the car that I’m not invited inside

for a nightcap?” Mick asked, busy getting his clothes straight.

“No sleeping over.”
“What?”
“No staying the night.”
“Wait.” He reached across the console and grabbed her arm. Nothing hard or pushy, but

enough pressure to make her stop what she was doing and look at him. He didn’t look
mad—more curious and amused, but not angry. “So I can come in. I can fuck you again,
but I can’t sleep over?”

“Yes.”
“Does that mean I don’t have to deal with the morning after wake-up call? I don’t have

to make you breakfast or save you hot water in the shower?”

“Exactly.”
“If you tell me I don’t have to call you afterward, I might just fall in love.” Mick let out a

laugh as he fastened up the last of his buttons. He leaned over the console, reaching out
again to snag her behind the neck and pull her close. His mouth was firm, wet, and
altogether too possessive for a temporary lover. But she let it go deeper, tongues slick
and needy against each other before they broke apart, breathless and dazed.

“You won’t regret this. I’ll make you come all night,” Mick purred.
Piper leaned forward, forehead briefly resting against Mick’s as she pondered his

suggestion. He smelled delicious. A combination of his unique, sharp spice, sweat, and

sex. Oh hell, she’d gone a bridge too far this time. He was too tempting. Too much the
sexy, bad rake of a man she liked best. Too much like Antonio. But she was going to do it
anyway.

Because unlike Antonio, Mick would never want a relationship. And that meant he’d

never humiliate her in public by dumping her.

Just the way she wanted.
Piper kissed him, a fierce, deep joining that was over before either of them could take it

further.

“You’ve got a few hours. Make them count.”

Chapter Four

The book was fucking awesome.

So awesome that Mick wasn’t sure how long his visitor had been banging on his front

door, but from the urgency resounding in each thud, he figured it had been a while. He’d
left Piper’s place the night before, thoroughly satiated and completely intrigued by the
woman. Since he wasn’t needed on set until tomorrow, he’d spent the day immersed in
Regan’s Gift. He glanced at his watch and noted the late hour, figuring his guest was
Lincoln, ready for a little PlayStation after a long day in his home music studio.

When he opened the door, he saw not Lincoln, but Lewis King—his business manager.

He hesitated to call him a friend because Mick never doubted that Lewis would be a
distant memory if his status as cash cow ever changed—in Hollywood, everything was
business.

“I need a drink.” Lewis pushed his way inside without an invitation and headed straight

for the bar. Mick followed him through the house, stopping when they arrived at the
kitchen. He leaned against the doorway as Lewis helped himself to a cold soda out of the
refrigerator, frowning at the can. “Would it kill you to have some beer around this place?
Or a decent whiskey?”

“Lincoln is a recovered addict, and this is his home. I respect his struggle with sobriety.

You know this.” Mick stole a look at the discarded book on his sofa and crossed his arms
over his chest in an effort to send the “feel free to leave anytime” vibe. “What’s going
on?”

“I’ve been trying to call you all night, but you’ve either been ignoring my calls or you

have your phone turned off again.”

“I was ignoring you.” His phone had beeped several times over the course of the

evening, but he hadn’t wanted to take Lewis’s calls—not tonight. Lewis was being a pain
in the ass about Mick’s wrangling with the studio to do more dramatic parts, and Mick was
tired of the argument. Lewis walked over, his expensive Italian leather shoes barely
making a sound on the tile before he lowered his short, husky frame into a chair.

“Mick. I think it’s great you’re focusing on this whole ‘dramatic movie thing.’” Lewis

made those stupid air quotes Mick hated. “But your latest John Dark movie is premiering
in six weeks, and the studio is beginning to comment on how often you’re not in the
papers lately.” Lewis grabbed his phone and started tapping on the screen. “We have to
set up your calendar. I have a list of women the studio would like to see you out with,
plus a list of venues.”

Mick returned to his seat, making no effort to stifle the resigned sigh that slid past his

lips. “Fine, Lewis. Set it up. You didn’t have to come all the over here to bust my balls

about publicity. You tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.”

Lewis looked up from the phone. “I don’t understand you. John Dark has been a gold

mine. Your name is on every ‘A-list’ in town, you make enough money to place you on the
Forbes Top Ten list, and no one minds if you fuck your way through every woman in
town. It all fits in with your image and makes you more money. I don’t see the problem.”

Oh shit. Here we go again. “Lewis, I just told you to set it up. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is that you’re jeopardizing everything we’ve built for these crazy side

projects only Oprah fans are going to want to watch.” Lewis leaned forward in the chair,
eyes intense. “They aren’t exactly your demographic.”

“The problem—” Mick gritted his teeth and tamped down the urge to throttle the man.

They’d talked about this so many times he now wished he’d made a damn video so he
could hit “play” and walk away from this dead-end conversation. “The problem is that the
studio wants me to make so many John Dark movies that I couldn’t fit in anything else.
I’ve done eight movies for them and made them a shit-load of money. I’m the first
biracial actor to carry an entire franchise. Now it’s time for them to allow me to slow
down and pick other projects.”

“They let you do this romance movie thing, and look how that’s turning out. I got a call

from Charlie Nelson, and he says he had to bring the author on set to help you out.”
Lewis snorted and shook his head. “Like some grandma from butt-lick Iowa is going to be
able to do anything.”

Mick bristled. He was normally a thriller reader, but Piper’s book had sucked him in at

the first page. She was really good.

And she was hot.
And an amazing lay.
“Well, if this is what a grandma looks like, I think I’m expanding my age limit to the

AARP crowd.” Mick picked up Piper’s book and flipped it over so Lewis could see the
picture that still made his groin ache. It didn’t even do justice to how full Piper’s lips were
or how the sexy dip between her breasts invited his tongue to lick.

Lewis’s eyes popped open. “Whoa. She’s fucking hot.”
“Yeah.”
“You should take her out. Get your photos plastered all over the celebrity magazines.

I’ll call her people. The studio will eat that shit up.” Lewis scrolled through his
smartphone.

“I’m not sure she’d go for it,” Mick said, remembering Piper’s concern about the

paparazzi when they’d been at the restaurant. He’d have to feel out her reaction to an
organized media opp. “We’ve got that new club opening coming up. If she’s up for it, she
could go with me. It would create awesome buzz.”

“Great idea.” Lewis continued to tap the keys on his phone, barely sparing Mick a

glance as he did what he did best—making Mick a shitload of money. “Hell, you can even
fuck her if you want. The pictures with the ones you’ve slept with are always better.”

Oh, Mick planned on sleeping with Piper again, but he damn well wasn’t going to talk

about it with Lewis.

His manager paused and squinted at the book cover again. “She looks familiar. Does

she live in LA?”

“No. New York.”
“She ever act?”
“That I doubt.” Mick stretched his long legs out on the ottoman. “All I know is that she

writes a damn good book. I understand why Hollywood snapped up the film rights. Most
of the movie script dialogue comes straight from the book. Those scriptwriters got off so
easy on this one.”

“I know I know her from somewhere. Did she ever date an actor?”
“I have no idea.”
“You need to start reading People. It’s crazy all the stuff you don’t know about this

industry.”

“I pay you to tell me everything I need to know.”
“And to get you in front of the cameras.”
Mick nodded. “And Ms. James provides a prime media opportunity. You’ll need to get

together with Jack and work out the details with the studio.” Jack Mullins, his lawyer and
good friend, would kill him for sending Lewis his way—the man irritated his friend to no
end—but Mick knew Jack would get Lewis in line on the negotiations.

He stood up, motioning for his visitor to follow him to the door, then finished the

conversation along the way, Lewis tailing behind him, still focused on his phone. “My best
leverage with the studio is me—the Mick Blackwell franchise is worth millions to them,
and I need to go into this deal at the absolute top of my game. You do whatever you
need to do to in terms of promotions to make that happen. You read me?”

“Whatever it takes?”
Shoving the front door open, Mick gestured for Lewis to exit. “Whatever it takes.”
“Fine. But I don’t want to hear you bitch about my methods.” Lewis shoved a finger at

him to emphasize his point. “The premiere for the latest John Dark movie is coming up.
Get your head in the game.”

“I’m getting tired of jumping around like a monkey for these people. John Dark isn’t all

that I am.”

“Although it is who they pay you to be.” Lewis cocked his head, his expression

confused. “You’ve been in this business since you were a kid. You know how it is. They
only want what they can sell. If they can’t do that, then you’re nothing.”

Lewis was right, and Mick hated him for it. At the ripe old age of twenty-nine, he’d

spent twenty-three years of his life in front of a camera—being whoever it was they paid
him to be.

He closed the door, the force of it just short of a slam, then made his way back to the

couch, where he flopped down with a heavy thud. He grabbed the book off the table,
opened it back to where he’d left off, but just as quickly shut it again. Frustration and
anger heated his skin, the hint of a headache flickering on the edges of his vision. Those
long days—weeks of long days—spent working his ass off on this movie were starting to
get to him.

Mick didn’t have to read the trade magazines to know what people were saying about

his desire to branch out into more dramatic parts. His was his father’s son, and many
wondered if he could step out from the shadow of a man who had two Oscars. Mick had
inked the deal in spite of Hollywood’s open skepticism, giving the big “fuck you” to all the
haters. Even now, and even with the setbacks, he still wasn’t ready to give up. The John
Dark movies were only one facet of all he had to offer. Acting was part of his DNA, the
desire to perform meshed into his genetic code and forming a need so strong it felt like
the key to his soul.

He’d nail this part.
He’d prove them wrong.
And then he’d be whoever the fuck he wanted to be.

Chapter Five

“Oh my God. Are all actors so difficult?” Piper asked, dragging Mick by the arm across the
vacant soundstage to the set of Regan’s kitchen, where they’d first met. Their
consultation session had been a joke so far. She didn’t know how to tell him how to act,
and when he tried to explain his process, it sounded like he was speaking a foreign
language. Frustrated and tired, she decided that being in the exact spot where he had to
pull off this scene might help.

It sure as hell couldn’t hurt.
“I’m not difficult, I just don’t know how you can write such deep characters and yet your

best advice is ‘ask Lincoln about being in love.’”

Piper dropped her copy of her book and the script onto the kitchen island and turned to

face off with the most stubborn man she’d ever met. “I didn’t ask you to have a group
hug and cry about it. You said he’s been in love before. I suggested you ask him to give
you a guy’s point of view.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Mick plopped down in one of the kitchen chairs, throwing

his feet onto the seat opposite as he leaned back. “Linc and I talk about sex. Not
feelings.”

“Fine. I have offended your macho sensibilities by even suggesting it, so let’s try Plan

B.”

“Holy shit. Was talking to Linc about feelings Plan A?” Mick asked, making no effort to

hide his laughter. “I am so screwed.”

“Shut up.” Piper grabbed the script off the counter and turned to the scene he had to

shoot tomorrow. “Okay, so the big love scene takes place here in the kitchen, and I
thought I could walk you through how I saw it in my head when I was writing it. We could
even rehearse. Maybe that would help.”

He stared at her, considering her suggestion before nodding his head and jumping to

his feet. “Now, that sounds like a Plan A. Where do you want me?”

“Let’s set the scene first and then we can rehearse.”
“Sounds good.”
She walked the length of the countertop and came around to the huge wooden butcher

block that stood in the middle, serving as a kitchen island. She closed her eyes. The set
was so accurate it was easy to go back to that place in her little office when she’d gone
into that blissful trance and written this scene, not even aware she was crying until she
stopped and found her cheeks were wet.

“Regan—divorced and ready to embrace her freedom—has come back to the house

where she grew up to figure out her next move. Carefree and reckless, she’s attracted to

Chance and wants to do something about it.”

She turned and found Mick four or five paces behind her, soaking in every word.
“Chance is more careful, solid,” he said, continuing the story. “He wants to stay here

and work the land, raise horses. It’s his life, but he wants Regan. They need each other
like air—and as impossible as it is to reconcile their futures, they burn up the here and
now. It’s physical, elemental.”

Mick stepped forward, keeping his eyes locked on hers, stopping close enough to touch

but far enough apart for her to ache over the distance.

She frowned, her brow furrowed. “That’s a line from the book. It’s not in the

screenplay.”

He grinned. “I finished the book last night. Loved it. You’re an amazing writer.”
Pleasure rushed over her. “I’m glad you like my book.” She knew her voice betrayed her

delight at his words, but she didn’t care. The genuine admiration in his tone had lit up a
part inside of her that had been dark for a while. She pushed it down, unwilling to take it
too seriously right now.

“It was fantastic,” he said, then licked his lower lip, making his mouth all the more

kissable. “I’d love to get in your head and find out everything I can about Chance.”

Oh God. She wanted him now. Here. On the set. “Stop that. It’s distracting. Talk to me

about Chance. What else do you know about this scene?”

“They come into this scene laughing from an evening spent with friends on the porch.

And they dance together—the first time they’ve actually touched.” He pulled out his
phone and suddenly a slow, sexy tune spilled out, filling the space with the perfect
atmosphere. He placed the phone on the counter and extended a hand to her. “Dance
with me.”

Her pulse sped up, the combination of the scene unfolding before her eyes and Mick’s

presence exciting her. He tugged, and she came willingly, following him as he took them
through the steps. Mick could actually dance—the kind of dancing they taught in
professional schools—so it took some concentration to loosen her limbs and let him lead.
The song ended and immediately spilled into another with the same sensual cadence—
filling the empty space with nothing but the notes and their breathing.

Mick spun her out, catching her off guard, then pulling a happy laugh from her when he

twirled her back in. Just like Chance had done with Regan. Resting against his chest, she
knew he was the one to play Chance. Unexpected but solid, strong but tender—those
things were all Mick as well. Some things were buried underneath the Hollywood image,
but they were there if one looked hard enough.

“What are you waiting for?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Regan kisses Chance. Lays one on him that is so powerful he takes her against his

better judgment. He is nothing but wanting and needing at that point. He’d kill anyone
that tried to get between them at that moment.”

Piper went breathless. He’d nailed exactly what she’d tried to convey. She raised her

arms, fingers skimming the hard expanse of his chest to weave around his neck and pull
his mouth closer to her own.

“So, Piper…” Mick’s eyes darkened. He dug his fingers into her hips as he dragged her

close enough to grind his erection against her belly. “Can you make me want you like
that?”

Hell, yes she could. Or die trying.
Piper pulled his head down until she could claim his mouth. Just like the story, there

was only sweet seduction, only a teasing of tongues and lips. They swayed together like
that for a while, lips coaxing response, arms tight around bodies softened by desire.

Mick teased a kiss along her brow and asked, “Why did you write this scene? What

made you have to put it down on the page?”

“You really want to know?”
“Of course I do.”
“Is this for research? For the part?”
He pulled her closer, twisting a curl around his fingers, and bringing her head to rest

against his chest. “It’s not all about the part. These characters, what they are feeling, had
to come from somewhere inside you. I wonder why you had to get them down on paper.
I’m fascinated by your creative process.”

Piper had been asked the same question in a million different interviews, and she’d

always had a perfectly prepared answer—fully vetted by the publisher’s PR team—to give
people. But tonight, in Regan’s kitchen and in Mick’s arm, she wanted to tell the truth.

“This story is all about acceptance. Acceptance from others. Accepting yourself.”
She let her mind go back to the day she’d first started writing this book. “After college,

I’d come to a place where I had to stand on my own two feet. My parents, they didn’t
want me to fail, but I wasn’t doing what they wanted, so they weren’t eager to help.” She
eased back a little in his arms, tracing the buttons on the long-sleeved shirt he had
thrown over his black T-shirt. Mick gave her the room she needed but kept her close,
dancing in slow motion around the room.

“What did they want you to do?”
“Go into academia, like them. They’re both college professors, and I have a degree in

English.”

“But you’d wanted to move to New York and become an author.”
Piper looked at him in surprise, eyebrow raised.
“I did my homework,” Mick said, grinning. “I’m more than a pretty face.”
“Apparently.” Piper laughed, leaning up to press a kiss to his smiling mouth. “But, no,

they didn’t want me to go to New York and write. They hated Antonio and the whole
celebrity scene even before he screwed me over. Their crowd lives quietly and doesn’t
read, much less write, tacky romance novels.”

“But people love your books. You make them happy.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m still their dirty little not-so-secret with their colleagues.”
He shook his head, nodding in agreement. “My dad was like that about the Dark

movies. He thought I was wasting my training and talent on such commercial films.
Forget about the movies he made when he started in the business. Two Oscars erased all
of that from the record.”

Piper was surprised by his disclosure. His dad had always been publicly supportive of

Mick’s career, but it appeared that family dynamic was the same whether you were in
Georgia or Hollywood.

“Then you know what this book is all about. Regan needs to accept herself and her

mistakes or she can’t move on and be with Chance.” She twined her arms around his neck
and held on as he spun them around on the floor. “Chance can’t accept that anyone
would want to be with a guy like him. He’s an ex-con and is trying to figure out who he is
as he starts a life away from the gang he ran with before.”

“It seems to me like they’re both playing the part they think everyone expects them to

be.”

“Exactly.”
“I get that.” He paused, clearly thinking about what he was going to say. “I grew up

either acting on screen or acting like the kid everyone expected me to be. I was in my
twenties before I figured out the difference, and that neither of those people were me.”

“But you did.”
Mick reached up to smooth her hair back from her face, smiling down with a sweet

smile that was new. She usually loved his sexy, cocky grin best, but this one was running
a close second.

“I did. And fared better than many of the child stars I grew up with. I was okay with me

once I figured out who that was.”

“Well, Chance and Regan? During this scene they realize they are the ones who will

accept them for who they really are. If they can get past their fear and baggage, they
could be happy.”

“I’ll have to work on that part.” Mick shook his head. “I don’t believe in that kind of

happy.”

The music ended. Mick released her, and they stood in the hush of the set, their

breaths slow and in time with the other. There was a peace here, an easy camaraderie
she recognized as something special. They’d clicked from the beginning, and after this
conversation she now knew why.

“That’s why you get paid the big bucks. To pretend that you do,” she said.
Mick leaned down and kissed her—soft, sweet, and seductive. “Can I come home with

you?” he asked. “I’m tired of pretending for today.”

“Are you saying that you’re the real Mick Blackwell with me?”
“As real as I’m ever going to get.”
If that were true, then all Mick needed to do was show a little of that guy on screen

tomorrow and he would nail the part. Tonight she’d realized one thing—Chance existed
way beyond the words she wrote on a page because Mick was the living and breathing
incarnation of her character.

Mick Blackwell wasn’t just an actor—he was a damn romance hero.

Chapter Six

He fucking nailed the scene.

Mick stood there on the set, silence filling the air, while everyone waited for Charlie

Nelson to yell “cut.” At least, he thought it was silence. His heart was pounding so loudly
in his ears he wasn’t sure if he would hear a bomb explode.

When the sharp rap of the clapperboard mobilized everyone on the soundstage, he

realized he hadn’t imagined the silence. As the crowd began to move on to their next
tasks, the usual loud influx of voices and equipment was absent. Everyone moved with
muted steps and voice, clearly affected by the scene. It wasn’t just a well-acted scene; it
had transcended the realm of pretend.

For the first time in his career, Mick had actually “become” his character.
It was scary.
It was fucking awesome.
He didn’t know how he did it, but one thing was sure—no one who saw that scene

would doubt he had the acting chops to do a true dramatic part. And there was only one
person he wanted to share his excitement with.

Piper.
Her final acting advice had been crap—he’d gone home with her the night before and

they’d had sex, and then after he’d headed home, she’d left him a voice mail at 3:00
a.m., telling him to think about how much he loved his car when he acted out the scene—
and he’d ignored it. He’d entered the set edgy and amped, in the best way possible,
similar to the excitement he experienced when he took out his motorcycle for a run on an
open road or waited for the perfect wave near his house in Hawaii. When the scene
kicked off, he was both chomping at the bit to do it and ready to bolt for the door. It was
the most fun he’d had on a movie in ages.

And just before Charlie yelled “action,” he’d locked eyes with Piper across the room. In

that instant, all his energy, fizz, and nerves coalesced into a razor-sharp focus.

Now he peered around the milling crowd and found her, sitting in a director-style chair

next to the second cameraman, looking just as stunned as he felt. Ignoring the tugging
hands of his costar, Mara, and dodging all the obstacles in his path, he stalked toward
Piper, his unwavering gaze daring her to move before he got there. She stayed in place,
her eyes never leaving his, her hands clenching the arms of the chair in a white-knuckled
grip. He took in the flush pinkening her cheeks and the tops of her breasts where they
peeked out from the low-cut top of her sundress and the glimpse of her white teeth
where she bit her bottom lip in apprehension.

“Come on,” Mick demanded, prying one of her hands off the armrest and pulling her up

to follow him. He wove them through the mass of people, taking them off the
soundstage, around the corner, and into his trailer.

Once inside, he closed the trailer door by pushing her up against it, his body sinking

into her soft curves as he took her mouth.

Piper responded immediately, wrapping her arms around his neck, opening her legs to

accommodate the hard length of his body, her tongue drawing his into the hot depths of
her mouth. Mick growled at her response, his cock hard and heavy in his jeans, the ache
of desire almost painful as he shifted to rut against her core. Piper cried out at the
contact, and all he could think about was being inside, the way she’d clench around him
when she came.

He needed to be there again. Now.
Mick reached down, cupping her ass cheeks in his hands, and maneuvered them until

he could place her on top of the dinette table in the living space. Piper gasped when she
landed, and moaned when he squeezed and then burrowed under the material of her
skirt to touch the silky skin of her inner thighs, her ass, and finally the smooth expanse of
her belly along the edge of her thong.

“What the fuck did you do to me?” he asked. He kissed the top of her cleavage, her

heartbeat pounding against his lips, and his mouth watering with the expectation of
tasting her nipple once again.

“I-I—” Piper stammered, then shivered when he slipped a finger underneath her thong

and grazed the thin line of hair. “I didn’t do anything.”

She was so wet, so hot, he was having trouble concentrating himself.
“Yes. You did. That was all you…okay, me and you.” He shushed her when she opened

her mouth and kissed her again—a mix of tongue, lips, and teeth communicating need
better than any script Hollywood ever created. Suddenly anxious to feel her, he gripped
her hips, yanking her forward to the edge of the table.

Piper slid her hands from his chest down to his crotch, where the pressure of her fingers

against his fly and hard erection underneath caused him to suck in a huge gasp of air.

“You’re crazy,” Piper breathed on a pant of air. “I had nothing to do with that amazing

thing you did out there.”

“It was you.” He couldn’t believe what he was thinking. This was crazy. Actors were a

superstitious lot, and he was taught old-school style by people who looked for any change
or nuance in their existence to feed their craft. In his gut he knew this change was due to
Piper—not that it signaled a real connection or emotion—but being with her had tapped
into his creative psyche. And his psyche was apparently in direct communication with his
dick. “Didn’t you feel it? The crazy buzz?”

“I…” She looked upward, her eyes rolling. “I wrote a little…after you left last night.”
“After you made me leave.”

“You were happy to go.”
He ignored her.
“Were they any good? Your pages?” He knew the answer before she answered. The

flush deepening across the creamy expanse of her lush breasts and the smug smile
tugging at her lips told him all he needed to know.

“Yes. They were good.” Piper smiled full-on, her head shaking in disbelief. “But that

didn’t have anything to do with us.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Mick leaned in, licking the seam of her lips until she opened to

him on a moan. He rocked against her, smiling to himself when the kiss ended on another
moan from her. “You don’t want to jinx something like this. We need to do it again. Just
to be sure.”

“I think we are. If you didn’t realize that, then I must be doing this wrong.” She

laughed, giving his erection a firm stroke through the denim before working on his zipper.

And then suddenly the trailer door flew open.
Lewis burst into the space, the door slamming behind him as he stopped in his tracks,

gaze raking over the sight before him: Piper on the counter with her dress hitched up
around her thighs, Mick with his jeans halfway undone, and both bearing all the earmarks
of the soon-to-be-fucked.

“Mick, I need to talk to you,” Lewis drawled, his gaze lingering on Piper and assessing

her with a perverse criticism that made Mick’s blood boil and his fists clench.

Releasing her from his embrace, Mick stepped in front of Piper, giving her time to fix

her appearance while he refastened his jeans. “Lewis, did you ever think of knocking?”

“I didn’t know you had company. Although knowing you, I should have assumed as

much.”

“Feel free to get out.” Mick glanced behind him, saw that Piper’s clothes were back in

order. He walked the two paces to stand nose-to-nose with his manager. “What is so
important that you just come in here unannounced?”

“Stop ignoring my calls and I wouldn’t have to track you down. I came on set just in

time to see what you did in there—along with a couple of reporters, who couldn’t wait to
blab about how awesome you are.” Lewis paused, glancing at his smartphone before
continuing. “The same reporters who followed the two of you over to this trailer and who
saw the photos.”

“What photos?” Piper popped her head around his shoulder, her voice nowhere close to

the sexy purr of a few moments earlier.

“Hi. I’m Lewis King, Mick’s manager.” Lewis glanced down at his smartphone and

tapped the screen. “I just put a call in to your agent’s office. He’s on his way over so we
can talk about the club party tonight.”

“What club?” Mick asked.

“The new one opened by those two guys who are minor Greek royalty or something.

It’s a Dark promo thing, and you signed up ages ago.”

Mick groaned. “Make an excuse. Those guys are assholes, and the club will suck.”
“This is a request from the big guys at the studio. You have to go.” Lewis didn’t look

regretful. He was too busy trying to peer around Mick to get a good look at Piper. “And
your publisher thinks you need to make an appearance, as well.”

“What are you talking about?” Piper edged Mick aside, the tension in her body

hardening all her curves.

“You and Mick here turned up on all the celebrity blogger sites with your lip-lock at La

Bella two nights ago. You were also seen leaving together and going to your place, where
Mick left at around 2:00 a.m. The pictures created a bidding war among the magazines,
which delayed them getting posted for a day. But they’re juicy.” Lewis gave her a nice,
slow look this time. He assessed her looks, and Mick could see his mind calculating the
trend value of this kind of publicity. “You two together are hot news, and this opp is
perfect. You guys go out. Show everybody that you’re currently hooking up, and it all
wraps nicely for promo for the Dark movie and this one.” He waved a hand in Piper’s
direction. “Apparently, your publisher thinks you’ll get some publicity for those books you
write.”

“No,” Piper replied quickly, her voice low and firm. “No publicity.”
A knock on the door preceded Piper’s agent, Chris, who entered the trailer. “Piper, I

talked to your publisher’s marketing department, and they want you to do visible promo
with Mick while you’re here.” He flicked a derisive glance in Mick’s direction. “You know
how I feel about that.”

Piper shook her head, arms crossed and eyes flashing with anger. “No way. They’ve

spent the last year telling me to keep out of the spotlight. I have. It hasn’t been easy, but
I’ve done what they asked. They can’t change their minds now.”

Lewis stepped in, saying, “I’m sure you realize that being seen with Mick as his latest

girl will only help you, right?”

Piper’s back went rigid, and Mick decided to intervene and make it sound less like Lewis

was his pimp. He and Piper were both in the entertainment business—just different
media—and being seen together would generate great publicity. He’d rather take Piper
home and ravage her body all night, but he could still do that after the club opening.

“It could be fun. A little dinner and dancing at the club.” He took her hand, loosely

stroking the soft skin on the back with his thumb. “If it sucks, we can go somewhere
else.”

“And have my name listed in People or one of the many blog sites as Mick Blackwell’s

latest piece of ass? No, thanks.” Piper ripped her hand out his grip and moved toward the
door. Mick stepped forward to block her path, coming face-to-face with her fury. She was

almost shaking with her emotion, eyes bright and lips set in a grim line.

“Hey, what do you think is going on here?”
“Did you set this all up? This publicity stuff?” She spat out the question.
“No. But I’m not turning it down, either. All we’re talking about is little photo opp for

the public. No big deal.” Mick really didn’t understand why she was reacting this way. It
was how things worked, and they could help each other out.

“Yeah. No big deal until you take the next girl out, and then the media plasters my face

all over the front pages as the woman men love to dump. And then the questions will
start rolling in if I’m going to freak out again. No, thanks.” Piper shoved past him, rushing
out of the trailer and leaving nothing but the door swinging on its hinges to serve as proof
that she was ever there in the first place.

“What a bitch,” Lewis grumbled.
“Shut the fuck up,” Mick and Chris both barked out in unison.
Lewis ignored the two men glaring at him. “I guess I’ll line up one of the new models

the studio suggested for your date tonight. Would you like a blonde, brunette, or
redhead?”

“I don’t care. Whatever.”
“Man, a case of blue balls really puts you in a shitty mood.”
“Lewis, just shut up.” Mick rubbed his eyes, then glanced at the clock. He had to prep

for another scene and was due on set for rehearsal in a half hour. Damn, the buzz he’d
had all morning was barely hanging on after this mess.

“Excuse me for doing my job. You could get on board and help me out.” Lewis jammed

his phone is his pocket, his tone and expression losing all traces of kissing ass. “I don’t
know what’s wrong with you, but you’ve got to get your head out your ass and think
about your career. It’s really simple: go to the club. Smile for pictures.”

Mick hated to admit it, but on some level, Lewis was right. The studio had spent a ton

of money on the Dark movie, and he needed to get out there and do his job. Whatever
was going on with Piper would to have to wait.

“No, don’t book someone else,” Chris said, leaning against the kitchenette countertop

with a resigned expression on his face. “I’ll get her to go.”

“Are you sure?” Mick asked, wondering if forcing Piper to go out tonight was a good bet.

If she got cranky, the publicity would go south pretty quick.

“The publisher wants her to, and she knows what she needs to do.” He glanced at

Lewis, then turned back to Mick with a grim expression on his face. “Can we talk in
private?”

“I’m gone.” Lewis opened the door, waving his phone at Mick as he exited the trailer.

“Answer my calls next time.”

Chris’s expression was sober, and Mick knew the “after school special” talk was coming.

He hated this shit, but Chris wouldn’t be much of a friend to Piper if he didn’t give him the
requisite “hurt her and I’ll kill you” speech.

“Other than keeping Piper in your bed, what’s your deal?” Chris asked.
“It’s pretty simple. She’s hot, wicked smart, and so far we’ve had fun together. I’d like

to have more fun with her—preferably naked. Look, man, I’m no choirboy, but I make
sure each lady knows what it is and what it isn’t.”

“And it isn’t…”
“Anything permanent. Love. The white picket fence. That’s not my scene. My childhood

scarred me for life—blah, blah, blah. I don’t believe in all that stuff.”

“I told her to keep away from you, but Piper’s a big girl. She’s going to do what she

wants. But you damn well better be straight with her.” Mick frowned, his thoughts
clouding his features with a fierce edge. “She’s been through enough with Antonio—”

“Antonio?” Mick interrupted. “Who the hell is Antonio?”
“Are you the only person in the free world who doesn’t read People?”
“Apparently.”
“Then how do you know what people are saying about you?”
“Lewis tells me what I need to know,” Mick said, trying to hide his impatience. “Can

you…” He motioned for Chris to continue.

“All right. I’ll give you the Cliff’s Notes version. Antonio Rojas—”
“I know Rojas. He’s a douchebag,” Mick spat out. He’d worked with Rojas on a movie

years ago when they were both on the verge of pulling in the big movies and the even
bigger bucks. Rojas had been an ass to everyone on the set except those people he
needed to suck up to. He’d even screwed everything with two legs in spite of the
girlfriend he talked about all the time. Holy shit. That wasn’t Piper, was it?

“Yep, he’s a douche, all right,” Chris stated. “He was also engaged to Piper and cheated

on her with one of her close friends. She caught him and dumped him three days before
her wedding.”

“Wait.” Mick dug down in his memory. “I remember this. It was a huge movie. He

hooked up with his costar.”

“It was Piper’s movie. Her first book adaptation, and she’d pulled strings to get Rojas

and her friend the parts. A classic case of no good deed—”

“Will keep the knife out of your back,” Mick finished. Oh hell. Mick sat, trying

desperately to wrap his head around this information. His skin crawled a little with the
similarities between himself and Rojas. Mick never denied his reputation as a player. He
loved women, loved having sex with women, loved their curves and softness. But he’d
never made promises he didn’t intend to keep and never betrayed anyone’s trust. It was
a twisted code of honor, but it was his, and he had no problem sleeping at night.

Chris interrupted his musings. “She kind of imploded after the breakup. Went after him

in the press. She got angry. And very vocal.”

“Ouch.”
“She’s kept out of the press—no media, nothing like that since then. Avoids it like it’s

poison.” Chris huffed out a laugh that was equal parts frustration and crazy. “Her
publisher almost dropped her, but she’s been very good for the past year, trying to prove
herself, and we’re close to getting her career back on track. I’m not thrilled this has
popped up so close to finalizing that deal, but we’ll take it one day at a time.”

“Okay, so we only need positive press on this or she’s got real problems.”
“Yep.”
“I’ve got the press in the palm of my hand. I’ll help her out.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“Thanks, man.” Mick held out his hand, his respect for this guy translating in his grip.
“Mick.” Chris’s voice was even, but his smile had an edge. “Let me be clear. I think

sleeping with you is the dumbest thing Piper has ever done. If you hurt her, I’ll jack you
up.”

Mick looked him up and down, the sheer mass of the man driving his point home. He

hoped he’d never have to find out how much Chris would make him bleed. “Fine. All I ask
is that you make it quick.”

Chapter Seven

The sound of screaming shook the limousine windows.

Piper shrank back into the plush interior of the vehicle, nudging up against Mick’s side

and under the weight of his arm as he scooped her even closer.

“It sounds like a mob scene out there.” She turned to look at Mick, who was calm, cool,

and sexily confident. Damn him. “I thought this was just a club opening.”

“It is, but there a number of A-listers who are supposed to be here, and the new

owners publicized the hell out of the event.” He reached out with a long finger and
wrapped a strand of her hair around it, tugging on it lightly to pull her lips within a breath
of his own. “This isn’t your first rodeo. You did this plenty with Rojas. What’s got you
spooked?”

“How did you know about Antonio?” Piper turned in his grasp, not sure why she was

surprised Mick knew about the cheating bastard. A simple Google search would give him
the skinny in about five minutes.

“Chris told me about what happened.”
“Traitor.”
“No. He threatened to castrate me if I messed with you.”
“Love him.”
Mick laughed, tracing the wide strap of her one-shouldered minidress. She’d had to

scramble to find something on such short notice, but the look in his eyes told her she’d
chosen wisely.

“You look amazing.” He leaned over and brushed his lips over the exposed skin of her

neck, smiling against her flesh when she shivered. “I can’t wait to take it off you.”

“You could do that now.” She trailed her hand over his shirt. Mick groaned against her

throat, his hips pushing up against her hand in carnal invitation.

Three quick raps on the window had Piper yelping in surprise. Mick laughed, then

pressed a quick kiss to her jaw before adjusting his clothes. Piper did the same, shocked
to find her hands trembling a little. There’d been a time when she’d done this six nights
per week, loving the adrenaline rush, the boost that came with being part of the “in”
crowd. But she’d overestimated both herself and the game and now she didn’t trust either
one.

“Come on. We’ll press the flesh, grab a couple of drinks, and I’ll show you my amazing

moves on the dance floor.”

When he opened the door, screams of “Mick” hit her like a wall of sound.
He reached back into the limo for her hand. “You ready? Just smile and stick with me.”
Piper followed him out, taking a moment to become acclimated to the full brunt of the

noise, the photographer’s flashes, and the lights from the film crews. For a few seconds,
she stood stupidly by his side, frozen in place until a buzz of excitement began sizzling in
her veins. People, glamour, the admission into a place where one had to be on an
exclusive list—it was exhilarating. She’d loved it two years ago, and she loved it now.

Hell, she’d even missed it.
Mick pulled her close, draping his arm around her waist and plastering her against his

side. And like a switch turning on a light in a dimly lit room, she was on.

She smiled, standing in the pose that showed her legs to perfection. Mick moved

through the crowd, speaking to reporters, signing autographs, and taking photographs
with fans. And every time he stopped, he introduced her as, “Piper James, best damn
writer” and “special friend” and never let her go.

She was here at her publisher’s request, practically ordered to have a good time, and

after over a year of self-imposed exile, she was enjoying the scene.

“Mick! Do you have a few minutes for me?”
Scott Crews—handsome enough to be on the other side of the camera—stood with his

film crew inside the club and was motioning them over.

“We’ll go over and talk to Scott. Give him a sound bite,” Mick murmured into her ear as

his hand caressed her lower back. “He’s the only guy I trust in the press. He’ll be cool.”

“I hope you’re right.”
Mick pulled her to a stop and forced her to look up at him. His expression was sincere,

the most serious she’d ever seen him, and she wondered what the hell Chris had told him
about Antonio. “I’m the number one player in this town, and I know Scott. He’ll do right
by us. Trust me.”

Oddly, she did.
She followed Mick until they stood in front of Scott, who held the microphone discreetly

down and out of the way so that it almost felt like a casual conversation. Almost. “Mick. I
hear that the filming of Regan’s Gift is going well,” Scott asked.

“I really need to thank Piper James here for all her help.” Mick pulled her closer,

reaching up to smooth a strand of hair from her face. “She’s a fantastic author and a
great consultant.”

Scott turned to her, his smile bright—Hollywood bright—and she tensed with the

attention solely on her.

“Piper, have you figured out what you did to get stuck working with this guy?”
“Oh, it’s been a pleasure. Mick is a great actor. So professional.”
“And you two are keeping it strictly professional?” Scott asked, his coyness tempered by

his sexy smile.

Piper looked at Mick, catching his eye and trying to read the situation. How were they

going to play this? The photos of them kissing were on the Internet, but their failure to

confirm or deny might be the best way to go. She’d watched Antonio do it often enough
when he wanted to keep the buzz going longer.

“Ask me again in a few weeks when we do the exclusive,” Mick countered smoothly.
A few seconds ticked by while Scott watched them both before he handed the

microphone to his assistant and motioned for the cameraman to stop filming. “Fine, Mick.
I’ll let it go for now, but you owe me.” Scott leaned closer, pitching his voice so only they
could hear him. “Lewis tried to get me to pay him for an exclusive. Apparently, he’s
dealing with some real assholes. Not your usual crowd.”

Mick’s smile dipped only a fraction, but she could feel the tension where his arm looped

around her.

“What kind of assholes?” Mick asked.
“The kind who go through people’s trash and liberally use Photoshop.”
“Got it.” Mick looked relaxed to anyone observing, but tension made his movements

jerky.

“Piper, I’d love to interview you, as well. I’ve got a call in to your agent.” Scott kissed

her on the cheek before moving on to the next target.

“Come on. Let’s get a drink.” Mick steered her over to the bar, ordering for them

between nods to all the people who went by and said hello. “Having fun yet?”

Piper considered his question before answering, letting the thumping beat of the music

and the energetic vibe of the crowd sweep through her. Since all she could think of was
finishing her drink and dragging Mick onto the dance floor, the answer was clear.
“Actually, yes. I am.”

“You handled it all like a pro.”
“What was that about Lewis?”
“He gets a little overzealous sometimes. I’ll talk to him.” Mick scanned the crowd before

looking back down at her with a grin. “Dance with me.”

It really wasn’t a question. She found herself being pulled out onto the dance floor

before she could acquiesce. Mick pulled her close, his hands resting lower on her hips
than they should—possessive and full of promise. And she didn’t care. The whole
experience was so damn good the only thing better would be to have him strip her dress
off and touch her without the barrier. She just went with it and decided to forget all about
publishers, the press, and all that bullshit for at least little while.

Piper moved in closer, allowing Mick’s hard thigh to slip between her legs as they

swayed together. He responded immediately, melting against her body so they were
plastered against each other from chest to thigh, his hum of pleasure tickling the edge of
her ear where he’d dipped his head to nuzzle sensitive skin.

“How much longer do you think we have to stay?” Mick asked.
“I don’t know. You’re the pro in his area.”

“Are you kidding? Ever since you showed up in this dress, all I’ve wanted to do is see it

on my floor.” He pulled back just far enough for her to see the lust roiling in his eyes.

“Fifteen more minutes.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, needing the

support as much as craving his touch. Sinking to the floor in a puddle of turned-on mush
wasn’t the photo opp she was looking for.

Fifteen minutes stretched to an hour as they found their rhythm and had fun with the

other dancers on the floor. Mick had lots of friends in the crowd, and they tossed jokes
back and forth as they all worked up a fun sweat. Piper was glad she’d chosen the slinky
minidress, loving the glares Mick gave other guys when they checked out her legs.

Then the dance floor became more crowded as the guests let the alcohol they’d

consumed melt down their inhibitions enough to indulge in a little bump and grind. Mick
was a great dancer, but even he couldn’t outmaneuver the volume of bodies in the small
space, and he signaled for them to call it.

Piper was happy to agree, looking forward to a few hours in bed with Mick, and let him

draw her close so they could move as one through the crowd. They were successful,
having quickly breached the outer area where it was calmer when Mick stopped abruptly,
running them both into a wall of bodies in their path.

“What?” Her question sounded overly loud and harsh without the backdrop of the dance

beat now pulsing from the speakers in the other room. Mick’s arm tightened around her
even more, and she winced a little at the pain of his fingers digging into her hip. What
the hell?

Then she looked up and saw the reason.
Antonio.
A cold chill ran up her spine—a sharp contrast to the blazing hot anger in her blood.

Both reactions roiled through her at the same time, pumping adrenaline into her
extremities until they tingled.

“Hey, Tony,” Mick drawled, his smirk telling her that he knew Antonio hated that

nickname.

“Mick.” Antonio lifted his glass to him, his eyes brittle as he swept in her as well.

“Piper.”

There was a time when she’d loved her name on his lips and had responded like a

lovesick teenager to the attention. And then there was a time when the very sound of his
voice made her blood pressure spike with the emotional pendulum he put her through—
jealousy, insecurity, anger, hurt, humiliation, and then finally anger again. Life with
Antonio had never been the fairy tale the articles talked about. With the benefit of
distance, she knew she only had herself to blame for believing the hype and ignoring the
warning signs.

“Mick, you know she has to be back in her padded room by midnight, right?” Antonio

snickered with his dumbass entourage, trading backslaps at his hilarity.

Okay. So maybe she was still a little pissed off. “Where’s your wife, Tony?”
“She knows the score. Knows I need my night off.” He looked her up and down slowly,

letting the implied unlike you hang in the air between them, like an invisible flammable
gas just waiting for one of them to strike a match.

“I’m surprised to see you here.” Mick headed off the argument, cool as a cucumber as

he sidestepped the gauntlet. “I heard you were heading to Canada to try and find work
after you got kicked off the last film.”

Bingo. Antonio flinched, his lack of career success the only thing that would get a

reaction out of him. He had a temper, and his latest director had fired him after things
became heated on set and Antonio took a swing at him.

“I’ve got things lined up.”
“I don’t actually give a shit about you or your career.” Mick stepped closer, a wide grin

plastered on his face, nodding his head just to their right. “I’m just making small talk so
the photographers over there can get their pictures for tomorrow.”

“Oh, I get it.” Antonio laughed. “You aren’t really fucking her. This is all a stunt. I got it,

man.” He moved for a high five from Mick, but instead, Mick grabbed Antonio’s hand and
twisted it until the man’s lips were edged with white from pain. To anyone else it looked
like an extended handshake—just two guys bonding.

“Listen, asswipe,” Mick said, his voice dropping down into a tone he used in his John

Dark movies. “It doesn’t matter what I’m doing with Piper, because you’re going to give
her a wide berth from now on. No shitty looks. No comments.” He bore down harder
when Antonio tried to pull away.

Piper knew she should step in, shouldn’t let Mick fight her battles, but the shock from

the moment made her stupid. She’d never had anyone take up for her like that except
Chris, and frankly, she didn’t know what to do. Stop it? Add her own two cents? Maybe.
But she was a writer, not a speaker, and although she could write witty dialogue on the
page, she wasn’t that quick on the draw in real time.

Mick barely took a breath to let her in the conversation anyway. “She’s with me. I

protect what’s mine. You step out of line and I’ll make sure you can’t get an audition for
Chuck E. Fucking Cheese. You got me?”

Holy hell. Piper sucked in a breath at Mick’s words, not liking the way both her heart

and her sex clenched when he uttered “mine.” She wasn’t his—didn’t want to be his—but
damn, it felt good to have somebody in her corner.

“Fuck you,” Antonio answered with less venom than pain.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Now smile nicely at Piper for the camera and walk away.” Mick

gave Antonio a little shove, then wrapped his arm around her waist again. They both
watched until Antonio had stalked away, and then together, they headed out the door to

ask the attendant to call the limo.

At the attendant’s stand, Mick stood quietly for a moment, then murmured in her ear,

“If you’re going to blast my ass for that stunt, please wait until we get in the car. A bunch
of the press followed us outside.”

Piper opened her mouth to reply but had no clue what to say. Thank you? Fuck you?

What the hell were you thinking? Did you mean it?

Mick had complicated everything with that stunt, muddying their clearly sexual waters

with stuff that looked a little like friendship. Friendship led to giving a shit, and she wasn’t
ready for what lay beyond.

So she did the one thing that to her mind encompassed all those things and none of

them at the same time. The one thing she could do that he could take any way he damn
well wanted. The one thing between them that never got complicated.

She kissed him.
Mick staggered back a moment when she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled

him down to her mouth. Ignoring the flash of the cameras and the shouts from clamoring
reporters, she attacked him—lips, teeth, tongue all demanding him to surrender to her
desire to bring this whole thing back into focus.

Mick found his equilibrium. And while she might have started the onslaught, he took

control, large hands cupping her face, long fingers winding through her hair to anchor her
in the perfect spot for him to deepen the kiss. His movement drew her up on her tiptoes
—soft against hard and naked flesh against rough fabric of confining clothing.

The sound of a murmured, “Mr. Blackwell?” from the valet pulled them apart.
Mick stroked her lower lip. “You’re not mad?” he asked.
“Did that feel like mad to you?”
“It feels like I’m going to get lucky.”
Piper moved out of his embrace, headed to the open door of the limo, then stopped

just before stepping inside the dark interior to look at Mick over her shoulder.

“You’re going to get so lucky you might want to stop off and buy a few lottery tickets.”

Chapter Eight

“Don’t fall in the pool. I’m not fishing your asses out.”

At the sound of Lincoln’s voice, Mick released Piper’s mouth from the kiss. Blue water,

backlit by lights in the pool, illuminated them both and cast an eerie glow to Lincoln’s
face, where he sat reclined in a lounge chair.

After leaving the club opening, Mick had practically ordered the limo driver to commit

every moving violation to get them back to his place so he could strip Piper down and
spend hours exploring her body. He hadn’t been able to wait and had started in on a
deep kiss just outside the pool house. Only to be caught making out like a couple of
horny teenagers.

Well, fuck.
Looked like his buddy was going to cock block him a while longer.
“Hey, Linc. Didn’t see you there.”
“It’s hard to see anyone else when you’ve got your tongue down someone’s throat,”

Lincoln drawled, his lit cigarette glowing in the gloom. “Are you going to introduce me?”

Mick knew the danger of introducing a woman to Linc. The tattoos, the wounded soul,

the voice with just a hint of a Welsh accent were almost impossible for some women to
resist. Better get Piper inside as soon as possible because Mick was pretty sure he’d
drown Linc if he got between his dick and Piper’s hot little body tonight. “Lincoln St. John
—rock god. Piper James—writing goddess.”

“Oh Jesus.” Lincoln rose from his seat, stamping out his cigarette in an ashtray before

coming over to pull Piper in for a kiss on the cheek. “Actors. They exaggerate everything.”

“Bite me,” Mick said.
“Looks like she already did.” Lincoln motioned to the part of Mick’s neck exposed by his

shirt. Piper had laid one on him in the limo, and he’d wondered if she’d left a mark.
Question answered.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Lincoln offered to Piper.
“I bet you did,” Piper said, raising an eyebrow as she cut an assessing look in Mick’s

direction.

Mick put a hand up in his defense. “I didn’t kiss and tell…much.”
“He really didn’t,” Lincoln interrupted, his chuckle hedging off a possible argument.

“Which, paired with the fact that he took you out in his beloved car—he never takes girls
out in Ali—means you must be a pretty special woman.”

“Linc,” Mick warned.
“What? Are you going to deny it?”
No, he wasn’t. But he also wasn’t going to talk about it standing on the patio with a

raging hard-on. He nodded pointedly first at his friend and then to door to the main
house, making his message clear—get the hell out. Remembering that this was really
Linc’s house, he mouthed a silent “please” to his request.

Lincoln took the hint and started backing away as he spoke. “I’ve got to get back to

working on this song, so I’ll leave you two alone.” He nodded to Piper, his smile a flash of
white in the semidarkness of twilight. “I expect to see you at one of my New York shows
as my guest.”

Piper beamed at him, a little fangirl glint in her eyes that Mick told himself he would not

let bother him—much.

“I’d love that. It was really nice to meet you,” she replied and waved as he shut the

door behind him.

“I’m over this way.” Mick wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, kissing the

satiny skin of her shoulder as he walked her into the pool house he rented from Linc. With
three bedrooms and a movie theater, it was more than enough room for him—especially
tonight when he planned on them needing only the square footage occupied by his bed.

Once inside the door, he spun her around, pinning her against the wall with his body,

mouth just hovering over her own. “Do you need anything? Something to drink?”

“Just this.” Piper pushed her hips out, catching his hard cock in the cleft between her

legs—exactly where he wanted to be. He wondered how pissed she’d be if he ripped her
dress off her and buried himself deep inside her, only two feet from his front door.

She moved boldly against his hands, which roamed freely, mildly desperate with his

need to map her curves once again. She hovered her mouth over his own, pulling back in
a teasing gesture when he leaned in to take possession.

He groaned, low and deep, the sound settling in the heat burning in his belly. He wove

a hand through her hair, tangling the strands in his grip as he pulled her head back,
forcing her to look him in the eye. She never wavered, only licked her lips, a clear
invitation to taste.

“What you did with Antonio? That was hot.” She purred as she traced his chest with her

fingertips, lightly skimming over his nipples and making his dick throb in response.

“You liked the whole knight in shining armor thing?”
“Was that an act? Just a ploy to get me back in your bed?”
“No. Tony is a dick, and he needed to get put down.” He broke away from her, his

breathing rough and unsteady. He traced her jaw with his finger, tipping up her face to
look at him. “However, I would do whatever you want to get back inside you. To see you
come for me.” He kept his eyes open, locked on hers as they stood on the verge, ready to
jump at the point of no return. He felt more than heard her answer.

“Then I want you to fuck me.”
His body bucked upward at her words, and he leaned forward and took her mouth.

Piper opened to him immediately, surrendering to his possession and moaning at the tugs
in her hair to keep her in place. She was hot, wet, and hungry, and he was dying to fill
her up. He pulled back, anxious to get them to his bed, a place where he could strip her
down and spread her out. He wanted to lick, suck, and taste every inch of her.

“Come with me. We’re going to take our time tonight.” His legs shaky and loose from

the arousal pouring through his system, he led her down the darkened hallway to his
bedroom. His bedside lamp was on, casting the large room in light and shadow.

Mick grasped her waist, pulled her against his body, then slowly ground his cock against

her belly. He was hard, aching for her, but there was no reason to rush. He kissed her,
letting her lead the kiss, welcoming her tongue, wet velvet, into his mouth. He roamed
his hands over her body, palms coasting along her arms, fingers teasing the tops of her
breasts, the line of her cheekbones.

They broke apart for air, chests heaving with sharp pants that echoed in the quiet

stillness of his room.

“I need to see you. All of you,” he said. At her nod, he pushed her down until she sat on

the bed, looking up at him with eyes dilated with passion—almost entirely black except
for the thin rim of electric blue. He reached for her glasses, then gently removed them
and laid them aside. Turning back to her, Mick quickly shook off his shirt, unfastened his
jeans, and slowly pushed them down, stepping out and kicking them to the side.

His cock, thick and ready, pressed against his belly, the head flushed and glistening

with pre-come. Piper made a sound, a soft moan in the back of her throat, and he
dropped to his knees in front of her, his hands shaking as they skimmed along her calves
and down to the strap securing her shoes at the ankle. Removing one and then the other,
he watched her face, memorizing the way her eyelashes fluttered when his palm
skimmed her calf and the way she bit her bottom lip when he followed the length of her
leg and traced the hot cleft between her thighs.

Piper’s head lolled to the side as he delved under the damp fabric, finding her slick and

swollen. He ghosted over her clit before withdrawing his hand.

“Oh my God, Mick.” She whimpered in disappointment. “Don’t stop.”
“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll give you more.” He reached around the side of her dress, pulling

the zipper down, revealing inch after inch of her tantalizing skin to his hungry gaze, then
eased the dress down her body, followed by her panties, which he tossed on the floor.
Finally, he was able to see her. She was beautiful, all soft curves and creamy skin, bathed
in the soft lamplight.

“Goddamn, but you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“You don’t have to say that.”
How could she doubt her beauty? He met her eyes, seeing the doubt there, and

decided to show her what she didn’t believe with his words. Capturing her mouth, he

swallowed her whimper. And then he cupped her face in his hand, running his thumb over
her mouth until she looked at him again.

“Roll over.”
Her eyes flared a little, the heat overcoming any questions, and she did as he asked.

Mick sat up on his knees, then mapped her slowly, kissing his way down her back, across
her sweet ass, and along the backs of her thighs and the tender, ticklish skin behind her
knees. He lingered, teasing and caressing her until she was writhing beneath him, legs
open, body begging for him to do more. To give her more.

Easing her over onto her back, he trailed back up her body, following the satiny length

of her thigh, tonguing a path along her soft skin until he reached her warm, moist center.
His first kiss, a wet lick of his tongue, had her twisting and moaning to the point where
his cock throbbed in a silent plea for release. He grasped it in his hand, pumping slowly
through the sensation, staving off his need to come.

Under control once more, he eased forward, his shoulders wedging in between her

thighs, urging her to allow him full access to her core as he bathed her with his tongue,
lips, and teeth.

“Yes, Mick. Oh God.” Piper’s cries bounced around the room—wanton, needy, and

unashamed. She writhed, pushing herself against his mouth, begging for him to give her
release. He teased, keeping her on the edge to heighten her pleasure.

She tasted like heaven, sweet and earthy in his mouth. She was close, thigh muscles

shaking with her need to come. He pressed her open and found her clit, tight and hot,
sucking on it in a steady rhythm while she tensed under him, her back rigid, until she
shattered apart.

Chapter Nine

Mick Blackwell had a mouth that could convince an angel to sin.

Piper let the aftershocks of her orgasm wash over as Mick kept loving her, gentling his

kisses on her sex as she came down until she was limp against the bed, warm and pliant
under his touch. He eased over her, crawling up her body with teasing kisses on her belly
that radiated warmth through her limbs until he leaned over her, face-to-face.

“Kiss me.” Piper looped her arms around his neck, pulling him down on top of her, the

taste of herself on his lips making her shiver with the need building again in her belly.
She reveled in the heavy weight of his body on hers, the crinkly rub of the hair on his legs
against her own, the press of his hard cock resting against her sex. She rocked upward,
feeling the length of him move against her clit, her wetness making it a smooth glide.

Mick broke off the kiss, the light from the lamp emphasizing the sharp lines of his face.

He stared at her, the only movement the slow thrust of his hips and the rise and fall of
their chests.

“Piper, I want to fuck you.”
God, how she loved dirty talk. “Yes. Please.” Piper released him from her embrace,

watching as he leaned over, opened the nightstand drawer and withdrew a few condoms.
She tracked his movements when he came back to the bed and sat back on his heels,
eying the graceful play of his muscles under golden skin. He glanced up, mouth tilting up
a little at the corner as he opened the packet, then rolled the rubber over thick muscle.
She grew even wetter.

“Give me your mouth.” Mick leaned forward once more, kissing her eyelids, her cheeks,

her lips, as he positioned his cock at her entrance. The pressure, light and teasing, was
enough to make her lift her hips in response, to widen her legs to invite him in.

“Don’t tease,” she cried.
Mick pushed inside her, the slickness of her sex making it an easy glide until he was

balls-deep inside her, filling her. He groaned against her neck, growling low before he
began a slow rhythm of deep, exquisite pleasure.

He leaned forward, sliding his strong arms under her body to hold them close, faces

aligned and locked together in the most intimate caress. He used his hips, pulling out and
pushing inside with a thrust that curled her toes, gaining momentum as the sparks of
their pleasure grew and blazed in her belly and across her skin.

Piper gasped at the rise of her arousal, shocked to be so close to the precipice so soon

after experiencing such a powerful orgasm. Her body clenched around him, her nipples
abraded with each intake of air in the most delicious way by the soft hair on his chest.

The sudden ring of a cell phone startled her—the sound a harsh reminder that this was

not the entirety of the universe, even if she wanted it to be. Mick ignored the call,
continued his invasion, adding a soft, wet, deep kiss to his seduction.

“Don’t listen. Don’t think about it,” he murmured against her skin, his voice deep and

smooth as whiskey. “Piper, you have no fucking idea how much you make me want.”

Oh yes, she did. He wasn’t one-sided in this desire. Her body had screamed for his

touch every time they were near each other. Now that she had him here, inside her,
around her, there was nothing but him.

“I can’t—” She gasped when he surged deeper, the snap of his hips gaining speed as

they gave in to their lust. Piper struggled against the onslaught, almost too much of an
overload to her system. She couldn’t hold a thought, the pleasure growing sharper as she
met each thrust with the lift of her hips. She needed to let it go, needed to give in to this
fire before it burned her alive.

“Come on, Piper,” Mick groaned, his voice low and dark as he strained against her.
The white lightning began in her extremities—finger and toes tingling—the sensation

gaining momentum as it coursed over her skin, bringing her nerve endings to vibrant life
and making her skin sensitive to the slightest touch. It was as if her entire body pulsed
with the pleasure created by their desire.

Mick roared out his release against her neck, his hips still as he remained frozen inside

of her, so deep she could fill the pulsing of his cock as he came.

The phone sounded again, a distant sound, adding to the ringing in her ears as her

blood pounded in her veins, her heart racing in time with Mick’s own as they lay tightly
entwined in a jumble of arms and legs. The weight of him and her weakened limbs made
movement impossible on her part. Mick, however, was quicker to recover, gently pressing
a kiss to her bare shoulder and pulling a sheet over her body before rising to remove and
dispose of the condom.

Piper summoned enough energy to roll over to her side, enjoying the view of his long

muscled legs, tight ass, and glorious cock as he returned to the bed.

He slid in next to her, propping himself up on one arm to look down on her. The smile

on his face indulgent, tender, and altogether smug.

“You’re pretty good at that,” she drawled.
“I was inspired by the subject matter,” he said, tracing lazy circles on her hip. “You’re

very much worth my A-game.”

“Really? Does that mean you don’t bring out the A-game for everyone? Do they know

that? Because I’d be pretty pissed if I knew I was only getting second best.”

She remembered the two telephone calls. “Maybe we should ask one of them,” she

teased. Quickly, she climbed over Mick’s body to reach for his phone where it lay beside
the bed.

He laughed and tried to tickle her into submission until she ended up sprawled over his

body, the two of them tangled together in a knit of skin and heat.

But she’d managed to grab the phone during the tousle, and waved it in the air,

gloating. “Now let’s see who called and left two voice mails.” She tapped the screen,
highlighting the recently missed calls. “Hmm…looks like your former costar Tanya is
eager to speak with you. Wonder what she wants?”

Mick brushed her hair out of her face, his smile unrepentant. “My A-game.”
“I bet.” She waved the phone in his face, almost dropping it when it rang. Mick grabbed

for it, but when she saw the name Tanya on the caller ID, she tapped the screen,
answering it as she waggled her eyebrows. “Mick’s phone.”

A brief pause met her greeting, then a sensual female voice said, “Put Mick on.”
“I’m sorry, Tanya, he’s busy.” Piper used her free hand to run a fingernail over Mick’s

chest, lingering over a nipple.

“And who are you?”
“I’m the one he’s busy with.” She ended the call, handing the phone over to Mick as she

leaned in to take a kiss. “Tanya’s upset you won’t be playing with her tonight.”

Mick shook his head, his smile slow and sexy. A low rumble of laughter in his chest

shook them both. He speared his fingers through her hair, pulling her down into a
possessive, hard kiss that promised round two of the evening’s activities.

“Stay over,” he stated.
“I can’t. That would break one of our rules, remember?”
Mick cupped a breast, lazily tweaking her nipple into a hard peak. Piper drew in breath,

her eyes shutting briefly at the sparks of pleasure traveling down her belly and clenching
the walls of her sex.

“That’s not fair,” she gasped out as he drew the peak into his mouth, sucking gently.

Damn that man’s mouth. It did things to her that made it impossible to think.

Mick released her flesh with a low, sexy chuckle. “I don’t play fair. I play to win.”
“What’s the prize?”
He nuzzled against her breast, his brown eyes darkening with desire. “I’ll let you know

when I win it.”

Chapter Ten

“Piper, the pages were amazing.”

In the trailer the studio had loaned her, Piper grinned into her computer’s camera,

hoping Chris could see her smile clearly through the Skype connection. She’d finished
nearly thirty pages the other night and had sent them off to him right away. Then had
immediately wanted to recall the message. What if she’d thought the pages were
awesome but didn’t realize they sucked? She’d waited, checking her e-mail constantly to
see if Chris had responded.

“Really? You’re not just saying that?” she asked, not really sure if she wanted the truth

but knowing she’d get it anyway.

“The pages didn’t suck. In fact, they were some of your best. A little edgy and raw, but

amazing. Your hero is so damn sexy that I went home and jumped Paul.”

“Okay. TMI. I don’t need to hear about your fabulous sex life,” she said. Her skin

heated when she remembered the other night in Mick’s house. The memories still made
her wet.

“Well, you wouldn’t be so anti-sex if you were getting some,” Chris teased.
“Umm…”
Chris’s face filled the computer screen. “Wait. Are you still sleeping with Mick?” He

didn’t wait for her to answer, continuing in a more subdued tone. “Piper, we talked about
this. Mick Blackwell is bad for you. I thought you were going to get him out of your
system and then stay the hell away.”

“We didn’t talk about it. You lectured me, and I ignored you.”
“So, what? You two are an item? He’s sleeping over?”
“Umm…no. No sleepover.”
“Well, thank God for small favors.”
“I told you this was a fling. Nothing serious. Sleeping over is too intimate. I just can’t do

that with someone like him.”

“You haven’t done that with anyone since Antonio.” Chris leaned forward again, his

voice shifting down into a less hostile cadence. “I get it. You and Mick clicked. The
chemistry was amazing, and he’s just your type. Sexy, bold, bossy, and charming. Too
charming.”

“T ha t was my type,” she answered. They both let the “before Antonio” remain

unspoken.

“You’ve been telling yourself you’re over that type and then go out with these boring

guys who won’t interest you for long and who won’t make you take risks.”

“I take plenty of risks.”

“BASE jumping and taking the subway to Brooklyn don’t count,” Chris stated, his

frustration showing up in the flash of his hand across the screen. “This guy is a real risk
for you, and I don’t think you’re taking it seriously.”

“It’s just sex, Chris.”
“I don’t think you can keep it just sex with a guy like Mick.”
They’d had this conversation a million times. She wouldn’t risk her heart like that again.

It wasn’t worth the fall. A man like Mick was off limits for anything other than a strictly
physical fling. He was her type, but now she was smart enough to know he was no good
for her. Just like carbs and chocolate—good in small, infrequent doses.

“It’s just an affair. Casual. No sleepovers.”
“He’s okay with that? Mick Blackwell doesn’t strike me as a man who follows rules too

well.”

“He’s tried to revise the rules, but I’m tougher than I look.”
“Whatever. Just be careful, okay?” Chris sounded concerned, genuinely worried.

“Because, sweetheart, that shit you wrote was incredible, and you haven’t been able to
do that since Antonio broke your heart. I would hate to see his clone take that away from
you again.”

“I know.” She wasn’t going to get emotionally involved with Mick—a guy who could be

Antonio’s twin. “He’s been great about the promo stuff. He introduced me to Scott Crews
and then stood up to Mr. Cheating Bastard at the club the other night, too.”

“That was pretty cool how he handled Tony,” Chris conceded. “And the pictures of the

two of you looked great.”

She’d tried not to look, but the temptation had proven too great, and she’d gone on the

Internet to check out the pics of that night. The Internet was full of photos of the two of
them—they looked gorgeous, glamorous, and unable to keep their hands off each other.

The photos of Mick staring down Antonio were epic. The magazines and blogs ran them

as a feature story, and while some of reporters made snide reminders about her
temporary trip to crazy town when Antonio had dumped her, most sided with the
supposed budding romance between her and Mick. For the moment, The Mick and Piper
Show was one of the hottest tickets in town.

For the moment.
“That Lewis guy is going to call you about more dates,” she said. “Mick is off the charts

excited about the buzz this has created.”

Chris nodded. “He’s a publicity whore. But that’s part of his job and probably what his

bosses expect him to do—and what your publisher wants you to do, as well. We’ll play
along for now, but just be careful. I don’t want to see you hit rock bottom again.”

“I don’t want to be that headline again. The girl who is dumped when Mick trades up.”
“Look, I agree you got unfairly slammed by the press, but you gave them plenty of

ammunition. Everyone seemed to forget that Antonio was a cheating bastard who
couldn’t keep his dick in his pants and you got screwed when it all played out. But…”
Chris paused for a breath, his lips screwing up into a grimace with the effort to either spit
out what he wanted to say or keep it in. Apparently, the sharing option won the contest.
“But you’ve got to stop caring about all that stuff. It’s in the past. You need to keep being
smart about the future. They just want a headline to get more visits and advertisers, and
they’ll turn anything into whatever sells. Just don’t give them something to hook on to
when it’s over with Mick.”

Silence descended over the Wi-Fi, and if Chris’s face hadn’t remained on the screen, she

would have sworn they’d lost the connection. His words were fair, accurate as hell, and
she knew they came from the heart. She simply didn’t agree that sleeping with Mick was
going to be a problem.

“At least tell me to fuck off or something.” Chris broke the silence, his strained laughter

betraying his unease.

“No. You’re right. I just don’t know…” Piper let her voice trail off, unsure about how to

finish.

“Look, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you just need a fling, some fun with someone like

Antonio to finally exorcise those demons. Then leave it behind when you come home to
New York in a few weeks. I’m just telling you to be careful, because Mick is all about Mick
and his career. Women and headlines are just part of the money-making machine.” He
waited for her nod before signing off, saying, “Send me more pages.”

She left the trailer and headed toward the soundstage, snagging a bottle of water from

craft services. Once inside, she wandered around the sets. The soundstage was relatively
quiet today, as a scene was being filmed offsite. She’d peeked at the schedule and knew
Mick was supposed to be here, working on publicity shots and interviews with the
marketing staff.

On autopilot, she wandered onto her favorite set, Regan’s kitchen. There, she stepped

into the cool, dim space. Maybe she could figure what she was going to do about Mick.

She was almost to the set when the sound of voices caused her to stop. She could hear

the shuffling of many feet on the floor and a man’s voice speaking above the low rumble
of voices.

Mick. He was in full-on movie star mode, his tone low and smooth.
“This is the set of Regan’s kitchen. If you’ve read the book, you’ll notice the set

designers have nailed every detail from Ms. James’s awesome book—right down to the
heirloom chickens.”

He paused, allowing the quiet laughter from the group to die down before continuing

his speech. Curious, Piper stepped forward, finding a place where she could view the
group while keeping herself hidden. Mick stood near the kitchen island, sinfully sexy in a

pair of thigh-hugging jeans and a fitted T-shirt.

The members of the group wore distinct visitor badges, and Piper presumed they were

some sort of special tour—probably a fan club or contest winners. Those types of groups
went through at least a couple of times per week and were promised a meet-and-greet
with one of the stars. Mick was a fan favorite, and he never complained about the time
spent with the fans. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying the attention.

He milled through the crowd, and Piper noticed when his attention was captured by a

lone woman sitting in a wheelchair on the edge of set. The woman was craning her neck
to view the set, but there was obviously much that she was missing from her position.
Mick walked over to her, then lowered himself into a low crouch until he was face-to-face.
For a few moments, he engaged the star-struck fan in a low conversation.

Piper watched as he gently took the woman’s hand in his, their conversation earnest

now, as evidenced by the serious expressions on their faces. Suddenly, Mick looked up
and motioned for one of the handlers to come over. After a quick conversation, the staff
person stood and directed the rest of the group to exit the stage.

Alone, Mick turned back to his fan, exchanged a few words, and then shifted his

position to allow her to loop her arms around his neck and then lifted her out of the chair.
Piper was confused until he carefully entered the set, walking slowly around the kitchen,
allowing the woman to see everything up close and personal. Once the tour was over, he
took her back to her chair, pressed a kiss to her hand, and wheeled her out of the space.

Piper waited until she was sure no one was coming back, then emerged from the

shadows and sank down on one of the set’s kitchen chairs. She couldn’t believe what had
just transpired. Mick—publicity hound and partying playboy—had gone out of his way to
make a complete stranger happy. And apparently for no other reason than to be kind.

It was something Antonio would have never done. And Mick had preserved the woman’s

dignity and had done it in a way that garnered him no obvious benefit. It seemed that
she didn’t know Mick Blackwell at all.

It seemed like maybe he was one of the good guys.
Damn.

Chapter Eleven

“I think this is the project for you,” Piper stated.

Mick, seated on the opposite end of the couch in his on-set trailer, looked up from his

review of Piper’s latest pages and shot her a curious look. He set them down and gave
her the “hand it over” gesture. She tossed him the bound proposal, settling back against
the cushions to drink her fill of the gorgeous man who she’d spent enough time with over
the last two days to know that the left side of the sofa was “his.” He was all long lines of
muscle covered in a light-colored button-up linen shirt, worn blue jeans, and with his
long, sexy feet bare. Delicious.

Mick opened the binder, his eyes skimming over the first page, head nodding as he

neared the end of the executive summary. When he looked up at her, his smile, quirky
and a little lopsided, took her breath away. No wonder women all over the world fell for
him—he was a living dream of sex and powerful confidence.

“I liked it, too. I don’t think they’ll fight too much to change it from a white guy to one

of color.”

“Is that really a problem? It’s not like your racial background has kept fans from buying

tickets before.”

He sighed. “I don’t have to fight so much anymore, but originally it was a bitch to get

the producers to visualize John Dark as a man with a biracial background. Now that I’m a
proven money-maker, it’s a little easier for me. But race will be part of the conversation.
Hollywood is still tough for anyone who isn’t white, thin, young, and straight.” His voice
dropped a little, evidence of the doubt creeping into his thoughts. “But it’s a tough
dramatic part. That makes it an even harder sell.”

“You are a wonderful actor. Look what you’ve done with Chance.”
“Thank you for that, but everyone—at least the people who I have to convince—think

I’m only an action movie actor. I chose to play the character of Chance because the part
has a good mix of drama and action, and my agent agreed that it would be a good
transition part to prove the haters wrong.” He tapped on the binder. “This part, the man
is in a wheelchair.”

“You can do this part.” She sat up, crawling over to him until she knelt next him,

looking him in the eye. “You tell me that you just need to be able to relate to the
character, empathize with his emotions, his life. You’ve got this one down.”

“How can you be sure?”
“I saw you do it.”
He shook his head, his confusion clear on his face.
“I saw you that day at the studio with the woman in the wheelchair.”

“What? How?”
“I was on set, and when you made everyone leave, I stayed.” She shrugged,

unapologetic for playing voyeur. “You made sure she had her dignity, treating her with
kindness and respect. Only a person who had empathy for her situation would have done
that.”

It was clear from his face Mick was struggling with what she’d revealed. Maybe she’d

gone too far? Maybe he was pissed that she hadn’t made herself known at the time? The
way he’d made everyone leave told her that he absolutely didn’t want an audience, and
that included her.

“No one was supposed to see that.” He paused, clearly weighing whether he should

continue. “I wanted to help out that lady. I can only imagine what a struggle it is every
day, and I wanted to do something nice for her.”

“See, that’s what makes you perfect for this part. You get it. You have empathy. Use

it.” She took his hand in her own and kissed his palm. “You get a chance to show them
what you can do at an audition and the part will be yours.”

He laughed, shifting the papers and binders around to pull her until she straddled his

lap. Piper settled in, soaking in her fill of his beautiful face from the best seat in the
house. She enjoyed this part—the talking, the sharing of ideas—as much as the sex. Mick
was smart, thoughtful, and very professional about his job and obligations to those who
depended on him. He had five people on staff to run the business side of his career, and
he took every step seriously.

There was no doubt he enjoyed the party playboy image his fans adored, but there

wasn’t much on the business side he missed, either. This shift in his career was
something he’d been working on for a long time in spite of the opposition of the studio
and his management. He was brave, and she found that she liked him for it.

She liked him, period.
“Okay, my fierce little advocate…” He playfully pushed her glasses higher up on her

nose and kissed the tip. “When are you going to have Chris send your pages to your
editor?”

Piper squirmed, not liking the way the conversation was now focused on her. She was

very pleased with the book’s progress, but she hadn’t let Chris pass the pages on yet. Her
writing was different now, edgy and dark, with explicit sex scenes. She didn’t know how
the publisher would feel about her new voice.

“Soon,” she said. “I’m just nervous. What if they don’t like the way my writing has

changed?”

“Baby, it hasn’t changed that much. You’re an amazingly gifted storyteller, and your

characters feel like they could walk off the page.” Mick toyed with the edge of her top,
the whisper of his touch making her belly warm with sensual heat. The glimmer in his

eyes switched from playful to predatory. “And the sex scenes are beyond hot.”

“You think so?”
“Yeah. They turn me on. I want to recreate every single one of them with you.”
“We can do that. I hear you’re quite the actor,” she teased breathlessly, her mind

racing through all the steamy possibilities.

“Piper, when I’m with you, I’m never acting.”
Mick gripped her arms, pulling her closer, kissing her with almost brutal pressure. She

wrapped her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers through the strands of his hair
and locking his mouth on hers. Kissing this man was like taking a gateway drug—the first
touch was the freebie, the teaser, but once he laid the full monty of soft lips and hot,
wet, talented tongue on you, there was no twelve-step program that could save you.

Piper broke off to suck in a ragged breath as she settled more firmly into his lap. She

trailed her mouth over his jaw, down his throat, and back up to his ear where she nipped
at his earlobe. Mick groaned and gripped her hips, dragging her core firmly against the
hardness straining in his jeans.

She gasped, then murmured, “It’s been less than twenty-four hours, but it feels like

forever since I’ve felt your skin against mine.” She nuzzled the hot skin of his neck and
breathed in the warm, primal scent that was uniquely Mick.

“I have a favorite scene in mind…” he murmured.
“So do I.” She bit at the tendon along the lean span of his neck, sucking it in her mouth

until she was sure she’d left a mark. Anyone who saw it would know her mouth had been
on him, and the thought sent a rush of heat to her sex. “And you’re…going to love…it.”

Mick’s hands skimmed under the hem of her top, burning a trail of fire across her skin.

His voice was husky, the low, growly tone that made her knees melt into a puddle. “As
long as your mouth gets on me soon, I’m good.”

“You just sit back and let me play the lead.” Smiling seductively, she lifted her shirt

over her head, threw it on the floor, and undid the front clasp on her bra. With a groan,
Mick bucked his hips against her as her breasts spilled out of the cups, her nipples
puckering in the open air.

She leaned in and lifted up the hem of his shirt to run her palms over the sleek muscles

of his abdomen, delighted when they rippled under her hands. Her hands were
everywhere, coasting over his feverish skin and drawing him closer to her while she
ground her hips against his hard-on, seeking friction.

When he suckled one of her nipples, she whimpered low in her throat. He rubbed his

callused hands against the other nipple until she writhed against him and almost forgot
what she intended to do to him.

Oh no. That wouldn’t do at all.
Pushing him away, she lifted off his lap and dropped to her knees in between his legs.

When he reached to pull her back up, she seized his hands and placed them on his thighs.
He arched one eyebrow, but did as he was directed.

She traced the outline of his cock through his jeans, igniting her need to feel him, all

hot and heavy, in her hand. She captured his eyes as she began to unfasten the belt and
buttons on his jeans. “It’s been a while since I read this scene…”

One button. Two buttons. Three.
“But I think I can remember how it goes…”
She pulled down the jeans and his boxer briefs until she could see him. Touch him.
Oh yes. “It all ends the same… You in my mouth…filling me up.”
Piper caressed his erection in a sensual tug, stroke, and pull that caused Mick to pump

his hips into her grip and groan deep in his chest. She shivered at the intensity of his
reaction, her response—this was beyond hot.

“Do you want my mouth on you?”
Mick clenched his hands at his sides and nodded.
Piper smoothed a palm over the head of his erection, spreading around the pearly

drops of pre-come until her stroke was fluid and smooth. Lowering her head, she rubbed
him against her cheek, circling closer and closer to her mouth until she looked up at him
and whispered, “I love the taste of you.”

She took him in her mouth and fulfilled her fantasy. She licked and suckled, rubbed and

stroked him, reveling in his moans. His taste was salty, spicy, and earthy, and made her
mouth water and her excitement mount with each thrust of his hips.

Mick wove his hands through her hair, urging her to take him deeper, mumbling

incoherent words of need against her skin. He was curled up over her back, cradling her
with his body, as he trembled with a yearning that bubbled up, spilled over, and meshed
with her own.

These moments with Mick this last week had been the most erotic of her life. Whenever

they touched, she felt her own pleasure and his pleasure swirling together inside her until
she felt shimmering and alive.

Too bad she’d have to walk away soon.
“Piper, I’m going to… Baby, you need to stop.” Mick clutched her hair and gently tried to

pull her away. His hands were trembling, his breath coming in heavy pants, and she knew
he was close. She shook her head and continued to lick and suckle him with a passion
that overwhelmed her. She wanted to take him to the edge and over. She wanted him to
give it all and lose control in her arms.

It was the ultimate power of a woman.
Something she hadn’t felt in such a long time.

Chapter Twelve

Whoa.

Mick sat on his trailer’s couch with an arm thrown over his face, trying to pull himself

together. He was wasted, wrung out, raw, and exposed. Piper had done him in. This
woman had reached into his gut and attached to something visceral, elemental.

Something he was afraid he’d never get back.
The blow job had been great. Over the top. But blow jobs were always good, even

when they were bad. But this time what he was experiencing was more than a physical
reaction.

The sight of Piper down on her knees, loving him with her mouth, had sent him to a

place that he didn’t even know existed. A place he’d only been with Piper. A place he
wanted to stay.

She’d put a term limit on this thing between them, but he found it harder to reconcile

himself to her leaving and this ending so soon. They had a connection, more than sex—
although that was pretty damn fabulous. In his mind, they were friends.

He fought down the weird pull in his chest. It had been a long time since he’d cared for

the women he was with beyond the superficial.

He reached out to where Piper was draped across his chest. She looked beautiful,

flushed, and a little shy.

Grasping her face gently in his hands, he rubbed his thumb against her still-swollen

bottom lip. “Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure.”
He reversed their positions, coming to stand in front of her. He coasted his hands down

her legs, gathering up the material of her skirt until he could touch the silky skin of her
thighs.

“You’re the one with words, and I’m a man of action, so I’ll just have to show you how

thankful I am.” Mick traced the outline of her thong, pulling it aside to delve into her sex.
“Do you have any idea how much you make me…” He took a deep breath, his mind fried
with the ache of desire. “Fuck…I just want.”

Piper whimpered and slumped against him, her legs trembling under the weight of her

response. He leaned forward, breathing in her spicy scent and nuzzling the satiny skin of
her belly.

Whimpering, Piper grabbed his shoulders to steady herself, and he spoke in a voice

tight with need.

“Piper, open up.”
His hands shook a little when he pulled her thong down her thighs and off her body.

Her scent made his mouth water, and he eagerly opened her wider, leaning in until he
could reach out and taste her.

It was heaven.
“Mick.”
Piper groaned his name and thumped her head against the back of the couch. Her

thighs trembled in his grip, and he shifted her so one leg draped over his shoulder. She
was exquisite—so open and giving in her response. Alarm bells went off in his head,
warning him she might end this thing between them too soon, but he brushed the
thought away.

Her breath was coming in short pants, his name a mantra on her lips as he swirled the

bundle of nerves and licked at her core. She was close. His whole focus shifted to making
her come apart in his arms. He inserted two fingers into her, the hot muscles contracting
as he pumped in and out in a rhythm calculated to bring her into this madness with him.

Shifting so he could watch her face, he laved her clit with his tongue, and suddenly she

was flying over the edge. A silent scream on her lips, Piper tossed her head back in
ecstasy and threw her arms open in a gesture of complete submission.

Mine. He closed his eyes against the primal reaction that surged through his brain. He

held her as her breathing slowed. Slowly, the sounds around them registered in his
brain

the ticking of the clock on the wall, the rumble of the movie crew just beyond the

thin walls of his trailer. The world was going on as usual as they returned back to earth.

Piper stirred in his arms, turning away from him and steadying herself against the arm

of the sofa. Mick rose to follow her, unwilling to let her go. His hands shook as he
smoothed back her hair and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“I want to renegotiate our rules,” he whispered.
Piper’s entire body coiled like she was ready to take off. She refused to look at him, but

he knew she’d heard him. He could feel her heart racing against his own chest—it
matched his own.

“Hey. You’re not going anywhere until you hear me out,” he said.
She looked at him then, her eyes wary, darting over his features with curiosity and then

narrowing in a suspicious glare. “Oh, you don’t play fair. Proposing a change after making
a girl come like that. Not fair.”

He chuckled, glad his Piper was back. “After shooting is over this week, I’m going to my

place in Hawaii for ten days. I want you to come. It’s totally secluded. No press. I’m
literally steps off the ocean, and you can have all the space you need to finish your book.”

“It sounds amazing. Too good to be true. So what’s the change to the rules?”
“We’d have to sleep over.” He laughed at the widening of her eyes and the look of

panic on her face. “Hey, I could say I’d let you have your own room, but I’d be lying. I
want you in my bed.” He leaned and kissed her, willing her to agree. “I don’t understand

your hang-up about sleeping over.”

“It’s so intimate.”
“I just had my cock in your mouth. I think that’s pretty intimate.”
“Not like sleeping wrapped up in each other all night. Or waking up together. That’s…

that’s…” She shook her head, her eyes pleading with him to understand.

He did.
“It’s like being a couple. It’s like this would be more real that way,” he murmured,

reaching his hand up to cup her face so she wouldn’t stop looking at him. “Piper, we may
not be a couple, but this is real.”

“Even though it’s going to end when I go back to New York?”
Mick nodded in agreement. “Even then.”
He held back the rest of his answer—Even though you make me want more. Now was

not the time to talk about that, especially since he didn’t entirely know what he was
feeling himself.

“I’m not sure about this.”
“I’m not asking you to move in.” He made a huge effort to keep his tone light. “It’s no

different from here in LA. We hang out together, have fantastic sex. The only difference is
that we’d be surrounded by the ocean and a pristine beach, and you won’t kick me out of
your bed at 3:00 a.m.”

“Okay,” she said.
“What parts are you agreeing to?”
“Hawaii and sleeping over.” She smiled when she got to the last part, looking like she

might like that part after all.

“Great!” Mick kissed her soundly and stood to get his phone. “I’ll add you to the travel

arrangements.”

“Are you sure you can get me added to the flight on such short notice?” Piper’s nose

scrunched up in that adorable way he loved when she was thinking hard about a problem.

“I don’t ever fly commercial anymore. I hire a private jet.”
“Of course.”
“It’s almost impossible for me to get through an airport. Have you ever flown on a

private plane?”

“Nope. Authors don’t make movie star paychecks.”
“You’ll love it—excellent service, great food, and a bed.” He paused, then asked, “Are

you a member of the Mile High Club?”

She shook her head and laughed, covering her face with her hands in an attempt to

conceal the blush stealing over the creamy apple of her cheeks. He knew her well enough
to know this blush wasn’t from embarrassment—it was excitement. Piper and a bed at
thirty thousand feet sounded awesome.

“Well, Ms. James, get ready to fly the friendly skies.”

Chapter Thirteen

Seduction by inches.

Actually, it was seduction by hundreds of feet of gorgeous Hawaiian beachfront, but it

accomplished the same thing. For the last seven days, Piper and Mick had explored his
private getaway, and each other. She’d come to care for Mick, more than she wanted to
think about right now, and she didn’t want to be seduced by this time in paradise. Anyone
would fancy themselves falling for someone in this setting. It was like one of her romance
novels—and like her fantasy vacation with Mick, her books weren’t real, either.

But this was starting to feel real.
Which meant it was probably the right time to call it off. Good thing she was going back

to New York in a few days.

Piper sat on the lounger, watching Mick try to catch the perfect wave. His skin was a

yummy caramel color under the golden sun, water cascading over his sleek muscles and
hanging in diamond droplets in his hair.

He’d been amazing this whole time. His staff were like invisible mind readers,

especially Mrs. Kim, Mick’s housekeeper, who made sure Piper was well cared for,
anticipating her every need as she hunkered down and finished the book. Finally, she’d
bitten the bullet and sent the manuscript off to Chris this morning. Now all she could do
was sit and wait.

Good thing the view was so delicious.
“Hey!” Mick bounded up to her, dropping his surfboard onto the sand. Grabbing a towel

off the end of the lounger, he plopped down beside Piper, toweling off his hair and body
before leaning in for a kiss.

“How long have you been out here?” he asked.
“About an hour.” Piper leaned in for another kiss before delivering her news. “I finished

the book. I’m done.”

“Hell, yeah!” Mick pumped his arms in the air, then pulled her in for a kiss, which was

all kinds of celebration wrapped in a sultry slow glide of tongue and warm lips. The sun
beat down on her shoulders, its heat almost matching the fire burning between them. It
was the same—they were always one touch away from losing themselves in each other.

He pulled back, a little breathless. “I’m so proud of you, baby.”
“Thank you.” She hugged him tightly. He’d been her cheerleader, and the past few days

had been just what she needed to push through and complete her novel. True to his
word, Mick had given her space and a steady supply of food and sunshine breaks. And
amazing sex at night.

“You need to get something special to celebrate. This is a huge deal.” Mick turned to

grab his phone off the table in the sand. “I’ll call Keiko and tell her to come by and bring
some of her stuff.”

“Wait. Who’s Keiko?” Piper asked.
“She’s a local designer everyone uses. Her stuff is amazing.”
“I don’t need any clothes.”
“Your publisher wants you to join me at the John Dark premiere. You’ll need a dress,

right?” Mick asked.

“I can pull something out of my closet.”
“No way. Not as my date you won’t. I have a reputation to uphold.”
“What if I don’t find anything I like?”
Mick leaned in close, his breath on her neck as he whispered in her ear. “Did you like

joining the Mile High club?”

Piper nodded, her skin tingling with the memory of just how much she’d loved Mick at

thirty thousand feet. They’d spent most of the flight causing their own turbulence in the
cabin bedroom.

“Then trust me. You’ll love Keiko.”

…

“Mick Blackwell, you are not going to buy me a fifteen-thousand-dollar dress.”

Mick leaned against the wall, looking at Piper, who was wearing the dress in question

and throwing a proper shit fit over his offer to purchase it for her. He really didn’t see
what the big deal was all about.

“Damn, Piper, you’re almost too beautiful to look at,” he drawled.
“Isn’t she?” Keiko added, pretending not to notice the storm brewing as she adjusted

the dress until it draped perfectly over Piper’s generous curves. “The halter-style top
highlights her full breasts and the red silk makes her skin glow.”

“I love the way it dips so low in the back,” Mick said. “Very sexy.”
“It’s fifteen thousand dollars,” Piper stated. “I can’t spend that kind of money on a dress

I’ll wear only once.”

“That’s why I’m buying it. It’s a gift for finishing the book,” Mick said. He walked over to

Piper, giving in to the urge to touch as he ran a finger over the creamy smooth curve of
her shoulder. On impulse, he leaned over and brushed a kiss along the same path, his
heart picking up a beat when he heard her sigh. It was a mixture of pleasure and
frustration, and it made him want to kick everyone else out so they could settle this the
way they did best.

“Sex won’t work this time. I said no.”
“I bet I could make it work,” Mick challenged. He liked it best when Piper pushed back.

“You’re being ridiculous. It’s just a dress, and I have the money.”

“That isn’t the point. You don’t give fifteen-thousand-dollar dresses to a woman you

screwed for a few weeks.” Her head tilted up, her chin set in perfect stubbornness. “I go
back to New York in a couple of days, and this will be over. This gift is too much.”

“Not if we keep going,” Mick said. He instantly regretted blurting it out when Piper’s

face paled under her tan.

“What?” Piper whispered. She stumbled back, stopping when her legs hit the sofa.
Mick turned to Keiko, who was lingering in the background for the free show, but for

once he didn’t want an audience. This had been brewing in his head for days, and he’d
racked his mind for the best way, place, and time to broach the subject with Piper.

This—this was definitely not it.
“Can you give us a minute?” he asked.
Keiko slipped out of the room, but her disappointment was as clear as the Hawaiian

sunshine. He’d have a talk to her about his expectation of confidentiality before she left.

When they had privacy, he turned back to Piper, pulling her into a kiss when he got

close enough to wrap her in his arms. It wasn’t a lingering one, just enough to reestablish
how good it was between them and give them a baseline to start the negotiation he
knew was coming.

He withdrew from the kiss but didn’t let her go. She stared up at him like he was crazy,

but at least he had her full attention.

“This isn’t how I planned on bringing this up, but here it is. I’d like to keep up our

arrangement when you go back to New York.”

“What do you mean, ‘keep our arrangement’?” Her voice was quiet.
“You and me. Continuing the good times.” He waved his hand back and forth between

them, just in case she still didn’t understand what he meant. “That way you can go to the
premiere as my date.”

“But we live on separate coasts.” She ducked out of his embrace, the beautiful gown

she was still wearing swishing around her ankles. “Long-distance relationships never
work.”

“I wouldn’t know because I’ve never been in a relationship before, but I figure they

work some of the time.” He took a step toward her, bold and sure, just like his feelings at
the moment. “But I’m not trying to pin you down with some hearts-and-flowers exclusive
thing.”

Piper stared, her mouth open slightly as she soaked it all in. “Why don’t you explain

what you are offering?”

She hadn’t said no, and he took it as a check in the “win” column for now. “I want to

keep seeing you when we get off this island and back to the real world.”

That got her going. She strode over to him, coming nose-to-nose before stopping. “Yes,

the real world—where we live on two different planets.”

He laughed at her characterization of a couple thousand miles. “There are flights, long

weekends.”

“I’m not talking about that difference,” she huffed.
“Tell me what you’re talking about, because all I’m hearing are logistics.” He reined in

his temper. This was not going the way he wanted, and he was letting it get the better of
him. And as his stomach clenched with emotion, he realized just how much he wanted
her to agree.

“Not logistics. Reality.” She laid a hand on his chest, the soft caress in stark contrast to

the firm lilt to her words. “We don’t run with the same crowd. You go out with actresses
and supermodels, and I date accountants. Sooner or later, you’ll get tired of the novelty
and will get another woman, and I’ll look like an idiot—again.”

Mick reached up, gripping her wrist and feeling her pulse thrum in time with his own

heartbeat. “I’m not Rojas.”

“You aren’t him. You are a much better man, and I do care about you. But I know how

this thing needs to end, and that’s why I won’t let you buy me a fifteen-thousand-dollar
dress.”

Mick pulled her close against his body, then leaned down, taking her mouth in a deep,

possessive kiss that had Piper moaning and clinging to him.

Mick broke off the kiss, panting heavily as he gazed down into Piper’s blue eyes, shot

with equal parts passion and panic. He’d use the passion to his advantage; he’d already
warned her didn’t play fair. But they couldn’t just let this end when she got on a plane for
New York. It felt unfinished—like they were selling themselves short if they didn’t pursue
this as far as it could go. He didn’t know what that meant, but he wasn’t going to blow it
off.

He let her go. “You can refuse the dress and you can throw up all the obstacles you

want, but this isn’t over.”

Chapter Fourteen

Piper decided that sleepovers weren’t the problem.

The problem wasn’t even the epic sex that left her gasping and aching for more. The

problem was the ordinary, in between times with Mick. The times where they talked, read
quietly, or napped in the early afternoon, the long dinners they cooked together and
accompanied with good wine, better conversation, and candlelight. By unspoken
agreement, they’d dropped the subject of continuing their arrangement and had focused
on enjoying each other for the remainder of their Hawaiian tryst. Today was their last
day, and she knew Mick wanted to talk about what would happen upon their return. But
she wasn’t sure how she felt now, after all those ordinary, in between times.

Those were the times that almost convinced her to agree to his crazy desire to pursue

this beyond a temporary fling—was there such a thing as a long-term fling?—and that
scared her to death. Not because she thought Mick was like Antonio, but because she
knew he wasn’t. This time could be different—Mick was one of the good guys. But her
mind replayed the pain, heartbreak, and humiliation she’d faced in the aftermath of the
breakup. It might not be fair to judge Mick by what Antonio had done, but she couldn’t
get past it.

It wasn’t Mick she didn’t trust—it was herself.
Sprawled face down on the two-person lounger on the beach, Piper let the memories of

the last few days play over again in her mind. The warmth from the sun seeped into her
muscles, making her as loose and fluid as the water rushing in and out with the surf. His
home was remotely located, secure, and they hadn’t seen anyone but the housekeeper in
days. This was Mick’s sanctuary, and he protected it and her with determined focus.
They’d lived like the outside world didn’t matter—naked, indulgent, and in pursuit of only
pleasure. The breeze coasting over her naked skin felt like the touch of her lover. She
stretched into the sensation, thinking of Mick.

“Are you still mad at me?”
Piper felt the shadow Mick cast across her back, and she opened her eyes, knowing

what she would find. He was a deep golden brown now, his mocha skin bronzed by the
sun, his green eyes giving him an exotic appearance, and his cock lying heavy against his
leg.

“I’m not mad at you,” she murmured, motioning for him to join her as she closed her

eyes once again.

The press of his hard body against her was a comfort that she welcomed.
“Good. I don’t want you to be angry.” Mick stretched out beside her, petting her with

sensual strokes of his hand on her back. “I would like to know what’s standing between

us.”

She sighed, opening her eyes to gaze directly into his. “Mick, don’t push.”
“How about a little nudge?” He dipped his fingers down to her side, coasting over her

ticklish spot and making her giggle under the attention. She squirmed, which resulted in
the two of them pressed closer together, legs intertwined, mouths inches away from
touching. Mick settled in, his eyes searching her face for something before he spoke
again. “I know you think I’m a dog—only a little more housebroken than Antonio—but is
that the real issue?”

Piper sighed, thinking about her answer. Mick was asking a fair question, and he

deserved her honest answer. “You’ve got a phone full of numbers of women who would
love to be with you. They’re beautiful—”

“You’re fucking gorgeous.”
“They’re glamorous and stylish.”
“I love how you look. The whole vixen/librarian thing is hot.”
“They’re the perfect match for the movie star, Mick Blackwell.”
“That’s just an excuse.”
“And what happens to me when you decide to trade up? I get the same treatment in

the press no matter what our arrangement.”

“Baby, you got screwed before, but I can’t control the press any more than I can dictate

the weather.” He leaned over and kissed her before pulling away and giving her a sexy,
indulgent smile designed to seduce. It was working. “This is fun and easy, and I want
more of it. Am I reading it wrong? Are we on the same page here?”

Piper thought about how it was becoming more than sex for her. What would Mick say

if she put those cards on the table? Nothing—he’d be too busy beating feet as far from
her as possible. Besides, once she got to New York and out of his constant company,
she’d realize that this was just the by-product of great sex and paradise. Better to keep it
to herself.

She nodded. “We’re on the same page.”
“Then I propose a compromise.”
“You have no respect for the rules.”
“We don’t need to break a rule this time…just bend it a little,” he answered quietly.

“How about we keep this going just between us until the Dark premiere? No press. No
publicity.”

“And what happens at the premiere?”
“If we still feel the same way, we renegotiate and go public,” Mick said.
“Why do we need to go public at the premiere?” she asked. “We don’t owe anyone an

explanation.”

“They’ll take one look at me with you and know something’s up,” Mick confided. “I

won’t be able to keep my hands off you. If we go public first, then we can control the
spin.”

Piper thought about his suggestion. A little voice in the back of her mind whispered that

once she was out sight, she’d be out of his mind and this would be a moot discussion. If
no one knew what was going on, it would be quietly relegated to her private memories of
a few weeks spent with an amazing lover.

“Okay,” she whispered. She was glad she was looking into his eyes when she spoke,

because the look of delight was something not to be missed. This was terrifying even
with the safety net of anonymity. If anyone could make her fall hard, it would be Mick—
and she wasn’t ready to make the leap yet.

“Thank you.” Mick leaned forward, kissing her slowly, drawing her closer with his

talented mouth. His tongue slid against hers, slick, hot velvet, lazily filling her with
movement that heated the desire growing in her belly.

“I want you, Mick,” she murmured when they broke apart for a breath.
“You’ve got me,” he answered.
He pulled her even closer until she felt the hard length of him against her belly. She

groaned, rolling her hips against him, trying to get some of that delicious friction she
craved.

He gently pushed away, rolled her over onto her stomach and resettled her against the

lounger. “I’ll take care of you. Just relax.” He sat up slowly, straddling her legs and
stretching over her, laying a trail of moist, warm kisses along her neck and shoulders. He
smoothed his large hands down her back, lightly massaging her spine and sides with each
pass.

“The only thing I’m feeling right now is relaxed,” she purred, his touch making her wet.
“Is that all you’re feeling?” Mick smoothed a hand along her ass, dipping his long fingers

between her cheeks to stroke her sex. She was swollen already, sensitive, and she
moaned, her legs automatically opening wider.

“Oh, Mick, keep doing that.” She arched up when he slid a long finger, then two inside

her. Slowly, he pumped them in and out. “More.”

He chuckled against the skin of her shoulder, biting lightly. “You’re greedy today.”
“I want all of you. Please.” She wasn’t even embarrassed by the whimper that caught in

her throat. This was Mick, and she wouldn’t be satisfied until he was inside her,
surrounding her with his big, hard body.

“Lift up, baby,” Mick urged, raising her hips with his hands as he moved down between

her legs.

The stubble on his cheek grazed the sensitive inside of her thigh, starting a tingle that

coalesced into something fierce and sharp when his put his mouth on her sex. With a
groan, Mick ate at her core, using long licks and deep plunges of his tongue inside her to

bring her right to the edge. She writhed under him, crying out with each ragged breath,
pushing back against his face, reaching under her body to toy with her nipples. The
combination of her own hand and his wicked kiss was almost too much to bear. She
tensed, waiting to fall, almost drifted into a panic when Mick stopped.

“You taste so good,” he murmured. Continuing his assault, he tongued her clit as she

felt the press of his thumb against the rosette of her ass. She squeezed her eyes shut,
pushing back against his digit to increase the pressure. Sparks flew behind her eyelids,
igniting the dark passion now crawling along her skin and nerve endings. It had been a
long while since anyone had touched her there, and the overwhelming need for more was
shocking.

“Oh my God.” Piper collapsed farther onto her stomach, the sensations created by his

mouth on her clit and his penetration of her ass making her limbs weak. With effort, she
reached back to grasp his shoulder, pulling him closer, trying to communicate her need by
touch when the words would not come.

Mick crawled up her back, trailing hot kisses up her spine until he buried his face in her

hair, sucking on her earlobe as his thumb entered her hole, stretching her with an ache so
sweet and sharp.

“Have you ever had someone take your ass, Piper?” he asked, his tone dark and

wicked.

“Yes.” She gulped in air, her breath ragged and staccato.
“Did you like it?” Another nip to her shoulder as he stretched and massaged her rim

with his thumb. “Did you come that way?”

“Yes.”
Mick withdrew, shifting his body so his hard cock rode the seam of her ass. He groaned

against her neck, his breath now pushing out with each thrust of his hips. She humped
back against him, jumping with pleasure each time the head of his cock pressed against
the dark entrance to her body.

“Piper, can I have you?” Mick asked, his voice guttural and rough.
She turned her head to look at him, the wildness in his gaze taking her breath away.

“Yes.”

Mick leaned over, snagging their beach bag, pushing aside the magazines to locate a

box of condoms and a tube of lube. She glanced over her shoulder, catching glimpses of
his preparation—the shaking of his hands as he put on the condom and slathered lube
over his length almost as exciting as the throb of her clit.

Finished, he leaned over her, gripping her hips to lift her up a little, and she felt the

press of his cock on her entrance. She tensed, knowing the stretch would burn at first but
also anticipating the intense pleasure that would follow.

“Relax. I promise, I’ll make this good for you.” Mick nuzzled against her face, softly

kissing her cheek as his eyes met hers. He flexed, pushing his dick inside her with a slow,
rocking motion. Gently, he possessed her, his size making her breath catch as her body
hugged him tightly, muscles pulsating with her need to draw him in deeper.

She swayed against him, aiding him in fully seating himself inside her. When he pushed

in all the way, she held her breath—the sweet anticipation of what was to come sending
a shiver down her body that caused her ass to clench around him. He groaned, the sound
somewhere between agony and ecstasy

And then Mick began to move.

…

Mick tried to go slow. But it was too much. Too erotic. Too overwhelming to hold back
their need. Even this, an act wrought with intimacy, was powered by their pure lust to
possess each other. They moved together, rocking in a fluid rhythm that allowed him to
almost fully withdraw before easing back inside her, his thrust punctuated by her cry of
pleasure.

He was hard, aching with desire so hot it made the sun on his back feel cool in

comparison. He was burning up from the inside out.

Piper arched up against him, pushing back harder and faster against him. He didn’t

need her words—he knew what she wanted. He slid both hands under her hips and pulled
her higher off the lounger, until she was on her hands and knees before him. Her arms
shook with the effort to hold herself up. They were both close, and it wouldn’t take long.

“Piper, touch yourself. I want to see it,” he said, his voice harsh and demanding.
She obeyed, her right hand disappearing underneath her body. He jumped as her

fingertips brushed his balls, and he looked down to see her touching the place where he
rocked into her body. The sight was so hot he faltered in his thrusts, locking his knees in
order to stay upright. Her hand vanished under her once more, her gasp of pleasure
telling him that she was stroking herself as he’d demanded.

Mick was close. The first sparks of his orgasm built low in his spine as he reveled in her

body. When he indulged himself and looked down to where they were joined, he knew he
was lost.

“I’m coming.”
Piper’s cry preceded the clamp of her body on his dick. When white-hot pleasure raced

through him, he barely avoided collapsing. The red of the sun colored the inside of his
eyelids and highlighted the sparks of color flaring behind his eyes. This felt so goddamn
right.

Piper was made to be in his arms.
The impact of the thought caught his breath as if he’d been punched. He braced himself

against the lounger, taking care not to hurt her as he pulled out. Piper melted down onto

the cushions, her limbs loose and her breath deep gulps of air ending on sighs of
contentment. He disposed of the condom, then gently cleaned them both before climbing
forward to lie down beside her. She shifted, nuzzling against him as he pulled her closer,
cradling her head on his chest.

Fuck, this was new. He had no words, his mind buzzing with the rightness of his

revelation. This wasn’t love. Otherwise, he’d be in a full-on panic attack. But he did care
about Piper. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with that information. Nothing had
changed as far as his decision to avoid any kind of permanent relationship, but he now
understood why he was glad to continue this affair for a while longer.

“You okay?” Piper asked, pressing a kiss against his skin.
“Never better.” He kissed the top of her head, smoothing his hand over her back and

trailing down to cup the curve of her hip. “That was…”

She laughed softly. “Yes, it was.”
They lay there under the cloudless sky, sun warming their bodies, the sound of the surf

lulling them. He let his mind wander over the past few days and weeks, wondering what
the next few weeks would hold for them, realizing he had no clue.

He sure as hell hadn’t ever been here before.

Chapter Fifteen

Piper knew the minute she saw Chris at the baggage claim in La Guardia airport that
something was seriously wrong.

His face was ashen, tight, and he looked like he wanted to kill someone.
She sped up, weaving through the crowd of arrivals, the fatigue of the long flight from

LA dissipating with the surge of adrenaline in her system. Was something wrong with her
parents? Or with Chris or Paul? She pushed past a couple kissing hello and jogged the last
few steps to get to Chris. Up close, she saw his eyes, and in that spilt second, every
residual feeling of peace and contentment from being with Mick dissipated like vapor. He
was freaked out over whatever it was.

“What happened?” Her voice was ragged in her own ears.
“Stay with me. Put these on, keep your head down, and ignore them,” Chris whispered

urgently in her ear as he shoved a pair of sunglasses in her hands, leaned in, and covered
her shoulders with his arm. He settled his bulk around her, like a living shield.

“Ignore who?”
And then she saw them. Hoards of photographers, reporters, and news crews all

waiting in a line that barricaded the exit from her view. Piper was frozen in place, the icy
dread running along her skin keeping her from moving forward. She didn’t want to go.
She wanted to turn around, get back on the plane, and go back to Mick and his Hawaiian
paradise.

“C’mon, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” Chris urged as he started moving them forward.
Their first step was the signal for the mob to mobilize, and they surged forward as one,

yelling questions at her. Camera flashes blinded her even behind the dark lenses. She
couldn’t make out what they were shouting, the buzz of adrenaline in her ears was so
deafening. She simply followed Chris, the walk long and slow as they battled the crowd
who stood back the distance required by law but still blocked any quick forward
movement.

Finally, they stepped through the airport terminal exit. A limo sat parked at the curb,

and a man in a dark suit swung open the limo door. A haven. The only place where she
could hide from whatever was crashing down around her.

Chris pushed her forward into the vehicle, jumping in after her and slamming the door

shut. She could still see the flashes going off through the tinted windows, but the yelling
had finally muffled to a low roar. The driver climbed in and roared the engine to life, then
pulled away from the curb as the partition between the compartments went up, giving
them privacy.

“Chris.” She bit back the quiver in her lower lip, trying to remain calm, but his

expression was scaring her. “Tell me what’s going on.”

He opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to form words that wouldn’t

come. Finally, shaking his head, he pushed a bunch of newspapers into her hands, his
eyes full of pain and apology. “You need to see these.”

Piper adjusted her glasses, reaching for the first paper. It was one of those tabloid

entertainment rags at the checkout counters at the grocery store—the kind that
frequently ran stories about alien babies. But today’s headline wasn’t about babies, alien
or otherwise.

The headline read: Piper James and Mick Blackwell’s Hawaiian Tryst.
The skin on her neck prickled with heat from the mixture of nerves and anxiety coursing

through her system.

She looked at the pictures and wanted to be sick.
A full spread on the front cover and even more photos two pages inside the magazine

showed the two of them at Mick’s home in Hawaii. The tamer ones featured them
lounging, swimming, and hanging out in the nude, their private parts pixilated for
decency. But there were full-color, graphic photographs of them making love on the
beach. Every position, every sex act, every intimate, private detail of their time together
in a two-page spread. They were clear and sharp and obviously taken by a professional.

With shaky hands, she grabbed the next paper on the pile. The same photos—the ones

of them making love were front and center—were heralded by a headline which read:
Mick Blackwell and his latest fling. Does Piper James think she’s the only one? Does Mick
know what he’s in for? To emphasize the question, photos of Mick with other women
graced the page, some dated within the past few weeks. The article quoted a source
from Mick’s camp as saying, “Mick and Piper hooked up almost right away. No one on set
was surprised, because that’s how Mick Blackwell rolls.”

Several other articles reached into the past and had resurrected photos of Piper with

Antonio Rojas and also ones with his wife. The banner across the tops of those articles
were almost identical: Piper James and her Obsession with Playboys, Will She Ever Learn?
and Headed for a Heartache (again).

Her skin crawled, her stomach heaved, and she fought to keep her dinner down. She

pawed through the remaining papers, growing sicker with each flash of the intimate
photos of the two of them. Finally she got to the bottom of the pile and sat there, trying
to organize her thoughts into something reasonably coherent. She was cold, numb, but
underneath it all, a layer of rage was building, and she had no idea when it would thaw
her out and explode.

Piper looked up at Chris, clearing her throat. “Who… How…did they get the pictures?”
“We don’t know yet. I’ve got your attorney looking into it and preparing legal papers for

an injunction, a suit for invasion of privacy, intentional infliction—”

She cut him off. “His place was private. No one could get there without him knowing.

Besides, no one besides a few select people even knew we were there together.”

He reached out and grasped her hand in his own. “I’ve got a call into Mick’s people, and

we’ll figure out who leaked it to the press.” He paused, pain and worry clouding his
features even more. “Your publisher wants to know what happened.”

She winced. The executives at her publishing house didn’t believe in the old saying that

any publicity was good publicity.

“What have they said? Is it bad?”
“Not much. And yes, it’s bad.” His phone vibrated, and he glanced at the screen, then

sent the call to voice mail. “They hope this won’t be a repeat of the last time.”

Of course they did. The last time she’d cost them money, had missed a book deadline.

Gained unwanted notoriety with her antics. Not good at all for the company’s bottom line.
Fuck.

Chris broke into her thoughts, the regret at asking her the question written all over his

face. “Piper, I’ve got to ask. You don’t think Mick had anything to do with this, do you?”

Oh, please God, no.
“No. He wouldn’t do that.” But even she heard the hesitation in her voice.
“He’s a publicity whore. He lives and breathes being the front-page story, and he was

thrilled to take you along for the ride because it gave him a boost. Are you sure he didn’t
do this?”

“Of course I’m sure. What could he gain from this type of publicity?” She motioned to

the papers on her lap. “This is sordid.”

“And very newsworthy. Don’t fool yourself on that point.”
Piper fumbled in her purse for her phone, noticing Mick had called at least a dozen

times. The phone buzzed in her hand, startling her, and she dropped it onto the floor.
Chris leaned down to retrieve the phone and hand it to her.

Mick. She thumbed the screen to accept the call.
His voice was loud in her ear. She could hear voices in the background, most of them

belligerent and angry.

“Piper, baby, are you okay?” he asked.
“No. I’m not.” She tried to rein in the urge to cry; she wasn’t going to fall apart. She

had to keep it together, but her voice wobbled anyway. “Mick, you promised me your
estate was private. How did this happen?”

“Oh fuck. Hang on. I’m going in the other room.”
She waited on the phone, listening to the sounds of him moving, his muffled comments

to whoever else was there, and then the transition to a place where only silence
surrounded him.

“Piper—”

“Mick, how the hell did a photographer get on your property?” She made no effort to

curb the anxiety in her tone.

“I don’t know,” Mick said, his voice low and soothing. “I’m in the dark on this, just like

you. But I’ve got people on it. We’ll figure it out.”

“I can’t believe this is happening.” She squeezed her eyes shut, hating what she

needed to ask and dreading the answer because if he was lying to her, she’d know. “Mick,
you didn’t have anything to do with this, did you?”

Silence fell, and the distance between them doubled. She didn’t know whether she

wished he was here with her or not. They were too new for him to be that person for her,
even if she might want him to be. Did she want him to be?

“No. Piper, how could you—” Mick cleared his throat, the timbre of his voice telling her

he was more hurt than angry, and she instantly felt bad about doubting him. “I’d never do
this to you.”

“I’m sorry. I just…” She didn’t know what to say. Her worst nightmare had shown up in

glorious color on several two-page spreads, and all she could think was that this would
have never happened if she’d stuck to the ground rules. No matter what all “his people”
and “her people” turned up, she’d done this to herself. The only one to blame for this was
Piper James.

In spite of her efforts to keep cool, the anger bubbled to the top and she lashed out.

“Fuck it. I can’t do this right now.”

“What does that mean?” Mick demanded into the phone.
“I’ve got to go.” Piper’s breath caught in her throat and burned, threatening to release

the scream she was holding back. She needed to get off the phone and get some time to
think, figure out what she was going to do next. Did she release a statement? Ignore all
of it? She glanced at the photos and the bile rose in her throat. “Oh my God, my mom is
going to see those pictures.”

“I know. I’m so sorry. I’ll find the asshole and make him hurt. I swear it.”
She ignored him. All the ass-kicking wasn’t going to turn back time and make this all go

away. But she didn’t have to keep perpetuating her mistakes. This thing with Mick was
bound to end sooner or later, and if it happened now, then damage control on her life
could start now.

“I can’t do this again.”
“Whoa, baby. Slow down. We’ll fix this. I’ll fix this. I’ll—”
“I’ve got to go.”
Piper ended the call and turned off her phone, sinking back against the seat of the limo.

She closed her eyes, squeezing them tighter when the wet trail of one tear slid down her
cheek. She wiped it away angrily, refusing to fall apart now. She still had to run the line
of reporters undoubtedly camping out at her apartment, and she’d be damned if she let

them see her cry.

“Piper?” Chris asked.
“Yes.”
“Did you just break up with Mick?”
“Yes. No. We weren’t together anyway, so there’s nothing to break up.” She sat up,

scooting over to open the bar. Whiskey. That would work. Pouring herself a generous
amount, she took a big gulp and swallowed. It was like fire going down but the moment
it hit her belly, the ice in her limbs started to ease up. She wondered how much she’d
have to drink to not give a shit anymore. “He was doing the whole ‘I’ll fix everything’ bit. I
need a little space to get drunk off my ass and forget about the whole damn thing for a
while.”

“While I understand your sentiment, the hangover you’ll have tomorrow is going to hurt

like hell.”

“It can’t be any worse than I feel right now.” Damn, she was hurting, the pain a dull

ache that made her whole body hurt. Everything was so mashed up she couldn’t tell if
was due to the pictures or Mick. In spite of what she’d said on the phone, she wasn’t sure
she could walk away from him no matter what trouble he brought along.

But even though her hands had a death grip on her glass of liquid oblivion, all she really

wanted was to pick up her phone, call him back, and tell him to get on his private jet and
get to her as fast as he could. She wanted him. She needed him.

She was in love with him.
Holy shit.
There wasn’t enough alcohol to make this any better. She’d screwed up this time and

walked into it with her eyes wide open. Chris was right—she wasn’t equipped to resist a
guy like Mick Blackwell.

She leaned forward to rest her head in her hands. “I’m such an idiot.”
“How do you figure?” Chris asked, his tone skeptical. “You didn’t tell someone to follow

you, invade your privacy, and sell those photos to a tabloid rag.”

“No, that isn’t it.” She sat up, laughing bitterly, and then took another swig of whiskey.

“I let Mick talk me into changing the rules. And he didn’t have to work that hard to get
me to do it. A couple of amazing orgasms and I fell in love with a man almost guaranteed
to break my heart.”

“You love him?”
“Of course I do.” Piper poked Chris in the chest, the alcohol making her feel a little

woozy. She missed the mark, hitting his arm instead. “You’ve seen him, right? He is
absolutely the type of guy I fall for every single fucking time. Bad boy. Untamable. It was
inevitable.”

“Oh, Piper…”

“Don’t.” Piper held a hand up to Chris. She didn’t need his pity right now.
She took another sip of her drink and glanced out the window at her approaching

apartment building, groaning at the group of photographers on the sidewalk. The limo
pulled up to the curb, and they surged for the car, shouting and taking pictures. It looked
a little bit like a shark tank at feeding time, and she apparently was the chum.

Four weeks ago she’d had her career, her friends, and an occasional lover when the

vibrator lost its appeal. Now she had a three-ring circus in front of her building, a serious
possibility her career was over—at least with her current publisher—and she was in love
with a man whose track record for sticking around made stray cats look positively
domestic.

Good times.

Chapter Sixteen

“Can someone please explain to me how a fucking photographer got on my property and
took those pictures?”

In the private limo he’d hired at La Guardia, Mick looked at the screen on his tablet,

balanced on his knee, the conference room at the office of his lawyer/agent Jack Mullins
in clear view. Jack was seated at the table, flanked by Lincoln and Lewis. Even on the
small screen, Mick could tell none of them looked happy. Good. He was furious, and it
was nice to have some company.

The past forty-eight hours had been a living hell, a true test of his patience, and he was

quickly getting to the point where he was going to lose his shit. He’d been up almost
around the clock and made damn sure everyone else was up as well—nobody was going
to rest until they found out what happened. Usually he tried to maintain a high degree of
professionalism, always making sure people remembered he wasn’t the kid who grew up
on their TV every Tuesday at eight thirty, but the tantrum was coming. He could feel it.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t dealt with this kind of stuff before. His security team was always

uncovering people who would pay lots of money for access to his person and private life—
even illegal access. But every hour that ticked by was one more where Piper wouldn’t talk
to him, and that was killing him. Even his call to Chris had hit a large NFL-sized brick wall.

He wasn’t even sure if he’d been dumped. What the hell did “I can’t do this again”

mean?

He’d canceled a couple of promo events in LA and had taken off early for New York. He

was due to fly to London the day after tomorrow, but he couldn’t go until he’d set things
straight with Piper.

Goddamn, he’d made her promises, and someone had made him break his word. He

wanted answers yesterday.

“Mick. These things take time. You’ve got to be patient.” Lewis’s oily platitude made his

fingers itch to hit something. Preferably Lewis.

“Don’t give me that line again.” Mick shifted the tablet in his hand and turned his

attention to Jack, his lawyer’s calm demeanor bringing his own temperature down a
notch. “Jack, give me something.”

Jack shifted, tapping keys on his laptop, which sent a photograph of a man up on Mick’s

screen. Early twenties, Asian, and apparently used to breaking the law, since the bottom
half of the picture was covered by a number assigned by the Honolulu Police Department.

“This is the guy who gave the photographer the passcode to your gate,” Jack said.

“From what our private investigator found out, this guy was paid twenty thousand dollars
to get access.” Jack’s voice was one big ball of sarcasm. “Your stock must be going up.

The last time we had something like this happen, it was only ten thousand.”

“Way to look at the bright side, buddy,” Mick remarked, looking up from the computer

tablet to see the limo driver maneuver onto the freeway from the airport into New York
City. “I don’t have a clue who he is. How did he get the passcode?”

“He’s the son of your housekeeper. He stole it from her.”
Mick was shocked, the impact of the words making his brain fry a little. Mrs. Kim was a

wonderful, trustworthy person who’d taken care of his Hawaii property for the last ten
years. She had to be beating herself up over this.

“She wants to resign,” Jack said as his face popped back up on the screen. He held a

hand up when Mick started to interrupt. “But I knew you would say bullshit to that, so I
refused it and asked her stay on.”

“And you changed the passcode?”
“Yes. Our guys are doing an entire security audit and will make the changes you need.”
Mick nodded. “Okay, so the young Mr. Kim is going back to jail, but who paid him

twenty large to let the guy in?”

Lewis jumped in, his eagerness to be included in this conversation almost palpable.

“That’s what we still have to find out.”

“Well, do it, and then sue the shit out of them. I want whatever I can get, and don’t

even talk to me about settling,” Mick stated. He was still angry, but knowing this was in
Jack’s hands meant he could focus on Piper and get them back on track. “You guys can
reach me on my phone.”

“But you need to be in London in two days for the Dark premiere,” Lewis sputtered.

“And we still need to talk about the deal with the studio.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be at the premiere. And honestly, I don’t know what else we need to

talk about with the studio.” Mick paused, thinking of how long the studio had jerked his
chain over this issue. “They have two weeks to give me an answer or I turn down the rest
of the Dark movies.”

“But…” Lewis paled so much under his spray-on tan it was clear even across the 4G

connection.

“No buts, Lewis. I want a two-option deal for the project of my choice for a lock on two

more Dark films, and executive producer status on all of them. I get it or I walk.”

“And do what?” Lewis was starting to get really agitated now, his hands flailing a little

as he spoke. “You’ll flush your career down the toilet.”

Mick laughed harshly. “Lewis, I’m Mick Fucking Blackwell.” He let that sink in, knowing

how arrogant it sounded, but the truth was the truth. He’d been in this business a long
time, and he understood something very clearly—money talked—and he was six feet two
inches of walking money store when it came to bringing people to a theater. “The other
studios will be all over me once I’m on the market.”

Both Lincoln and Jack snickered while Lewis wheezed like he’d sprung a leak.
“And now I’m going to be Mick Blackwell and barge my way into Piper’s apartment to

make sure she’s okay with all this.” He moved to end the session, but Jack motioned for
him to wait.

“Mick, Lincoln and I wanted to talk to you about the funding for his new album. Can you

give us a second?”

What the hell? Mick wasn’t giving Linc any money—he was rolling in it. Oh, wait. They

just wanted to get Lewis out of the picture.

“Sure. Lewis, I’ll call you later.”
“Okay.” Lewis was pissed off and glaring, but he rose from the table and moved off the

screen.

Mick waited until he heard the door close and saw Jack give him a nod before asking,

“What’s going on?”

“I think Lewis might have had something to do with those pictures,” Jack answered.
“What? Why?” Lewis was a snake, but he was the snake on his payroll. A very nice

payroll.

“He’s been blocking this investigation all the way. Stalling on making calls and following

up on details,” Jack said.

Lincoln added his two cents. “I saw Scott Crews, and he said that he was hearing more

stuff about Lewis dealing with the wrong sort of people.”

“If that’s true…” Mick didn’t need to finish the sentence. Lewis was his man. He’d given

Lewis carte blanche to do what it took to keep his name as high profile as he could get it.
If Lewis had done this, then whatever fallout hit Piper’s life was his fault. She would kill
him, and he’d deserve it.

“Look, we don’t know anything right now. We just wanted you to be aware in case

other people start talking.” Jack’s voice was calm as usual, but his tone suggested he
knew what the end result was going to be.

“Fine. But, I want to know as soon as you know.”
The guys signed off just as Mick pulled up in front of Piper’s building. He tipped the

driver, muscling his way out of the limo with his suitcase and the boxful of bribe he’d
brought with him in full view of the assembled paparazzi. She was going to hate his
showing up this way and giving the press more fodder, but he wasn’t going to London
without clearing a few things up. Ignoring the calls from the reporters for him to give
them a sound bite and the flash of their cameras, he pulled out his phone, then dialed her
number.

He’d told Lewis he was Mick Blackwell—like that was the key to getting whatever he

wanted. In Hollywood, that was the absolute truth.

He only hoped it worked in New York.

Chapter Seventeen

The chiming of her smartphone echoing through her apartment broke Piper out of her
stupor. She grabbed the phone, looking to see who was calling.

Mick.
Sighing, she debated whether to answer. After that awful night two days ago, she’d

turned off her phone and refused to look at her e-mail. She’d needed the time to get in
her head and figure out what she wanted to do about the mess. The problem was that
her heart spoke louder than her head, whispering a steady stream of yearning for Mick
that didn’t even stop in her sleep. Dreams of him touching her, loving her, left her aching
when she awoke. The first few seconds of consciousness were wonderful—tumbled with
sleep and warm in the cocoon of her bed, she luxuriated in the memory of the man she
loved until the harsh reality that he wasn’t hers left her gasping with the pain of the loss.

Mick had been persistent, even calling Chris to try to get her to talk to him, but she

hadn’t been ready to face him. But just this morning she’d left her apartment for the first
time since the story broke and the mob of photographers at her building entrance had
only grown. She couldn’t hide forever.

Now was the time to deal with this whole situation and figure out the best path

forward.

She clicked on the icon.
“Piper? Can you hear me?” Mick asked.
The noise in the background was loud—voices, traffic, cars honking. “Where are you?”
“I’m in front of your apartment with about twenty of my closest friends from every

tabloid and press service. They’re making sure that every second of me standing here like
an idiot is recorded for posterity.”

Oh my God. He was in New York. Her heart did a flip and somersaulted into the pit of

her stomach, landing with a happy little thud. She scooted across the floor, turning on the
video security camera trained on the sidewalk at her building door.

There he was, on her sidewalk, his suitcase at his feet and an absurdly large box in his

arms. Piper drank him in. She couldn’t help herself. He looked up at the camera, his green
eyes lighting up with surprise, his mouth twisting into that sexy smile that burned her
down to her marrow. Damn, she’d missed that smile and his face… Hell, she’d missed
him. Period.

“Why aren’t you in California? Or London?” she asked.
“Because I needed to make sure you were okay first. And I have something for you,”
“What is it?” The question slipped out before she could stop it. She needed to be smart

about this.

If she was smart, she’d disconnect the call and never know what he had planned,

because in her gut she knew she’d love it. And if she loved it, she would give in to him,
and that wasn’t the smart thing to do. The smart thing was to go out with the CFO who
kept calling her and let him talk about numbers and spreadsheets all night.

There was no danger of her doing something crazy when spreadsheets were involved.
“I’m not going to tell you. You have to let me in.”
“You don’t play fair, Mick Blackwell.”
“I thought we already discussed that. I don’t play fair, I play to win.”
“What’s the prize?” What the hell was wrong with her? She was flirting with him when

she should be sending his cute ass back to LA.

“I’ll know when I win it.” Mick looked over his shoulder at the photographers, dropping

his voice to speak into the phone. “But I can tell you that I hope it involves me buried in
you so deep I can’t breathe.”

Oh hell. She loved it when he talked dirty. It was a rush to know that beyond the

movies, books, and publicity, she made him hot. Man and woman. Here and now. Simple.

She’d written all those romance novels just hoping the right man would step off the

page and look at her the way Mick was looking at her right now. And something told her
that if she passed up this chance, it would never happen again.

The whole fiasco with Antonio had torn down everything she knew about herself until

there was nothing but a shell for the outside world. She didn’t know who she was
anymore, either. But for the first time in a long time she knew who she wanted to be—
the woman who’d attracted and caught the elusive Mick Blackwell. That woman was
fucking awesome.

Her body aching for him, she pushed the button to give him entrance to the building.

She was crazy, led around by her libido, and she would get exactly what she deserved in
the end.

But tonight she was going to take what Mick offered because the memory of him buried

in her body when she came apart was just about the best idea ever.

“So, Piper, what’s it gonna be?” Mick asked.
She grinned, leaning into the screen and speaking loudly to make sure he heard her

clearly. “How fast can you make it upstairs?”

…

“Come on, damn it.” Juggling his bag and the large box in his hands, Mick impatiently hit
the elevator button for Piper’s floor and then groaned when the stupid doors closed with
agonizing slowness.

He’d sailed through the lobby of her building, the God of Horny Lovers parting the sea

of her neighbors and even delivering a waiting, empty elevator just for him. She’d called

down to her doorman, and he was admitted without any hassle—smooth sailing until he’d
come up against the creeping progress of the elevator.

The floors clicked by until the car finally stopped and the doors opened onto a hallway.

He stepped out, his heart pounding in his ears with his excitement at being so close to
seeing her again…and then she was there.

Standing in an open door halfway down the hall, her dark hair pulled up in a messy

bun, wearing a black sleeveless sundress and no shoes. She pushed her glasses higher up
on her nose and broke into a smile that made him run the last few steps to her.

He lifted her up in his arms, and Piper locked her legs around his waist the moment

their lips met in a crushing kiss of teeth, lips, and tongues. He stumbled through the
doorway, tossed his bag and parcel on the floor, and closed the door with the impact of
their bodies as he pushed her up against it. They both groaned when he ground against
her, the aching length of his cock finding that perfect place between her legs that drove
them both insane.

Piper’s feet pressed against his back, demanding he keep up the friction as they ate at

each other’s mouths, barely separating for the necessary gulps of air. With Piper pinned
securely against the door, he was free to let his hands wander over her body, mapping
the familiar curves and favorite places. She gasped when he pulled aside her neckline,
exposing her lush breasts to his caress. He skimmed a fingertip over a nipple, the
sensation of it hardening to a tight peak and her needy cry barely leaving him any thread
of sanity to cling to.

“Please, Mick,” Piper moaned against his neck, licking the place where she’d sunk her

teeth into him a few seconds earlier.

“I’ve got to have you.” He dug his shaking hands into his back pocket where he had

stashed a condom on the way over. Using his teeth, he ripped open the wrapper, almost
falling to his knees when he felt her hands dragging over his crotch, unbuttoning his fly,
and lowering the zipper on his jeans. With both of them working toward the goal, he was
covered and inside her within a matter of seconds.

“Goddamn,” Mick breathed against her hair. She was so hot, so wet, and so tight. If she

moved an inch he’d come, and this would be over before it had even begun. That was not
going to happen. “Don’t move. Please.”

She shifted against him, her hips rising just enough to leave him wanting, and then

descended to cover him completely with her heat.

It had been too long. Too long for him to go slow, to start at a reasonable pace and let

the passion build between them. Instead, he pounded into her, using the immovable door
at her back to leverage his thrusts inside her body at a brutal pace. Piper sighed, cried
out, and clung to him with each move of his hips. He rushed to claim her with his body, to
mark what was his and leave her with a memory that would erase any other man from

her mind. There was no playing any part, no masks to hide behind as they followed the
undeniable call to be everything to each other in this moment.

His orgasm, building in his balls, started a low buzz at the base of his spine, and he

knew it would be over soon. He had no power, no finesse that would extend this joining.
It was primal and demanded its release.

“Mick!” Piper’s voice was a sharp wail as she plunged into her pleasure, her sex

squeezing him in time with the clamping of her legs around his hips.

“Oh God.” Mick locked his knees to prevent himself from falling when his orgasm

slammed through him, stealing his breath for a few seconds until his hammering heart
demanded oxygen. He thrust up into her, milking out every last shock of pleasure until he
was spent.

Slowly, they slid to the floor in a heap of tangled limbs and feverish skin.
“Piper. Tell me we can keep doing this.”
She didn’t flinch or pull away like he thought she would. Instead, she snuggled in

closer, lifting her head to rest her chin on his chest and look him in the face.

“We shouldn’t.”
“But we will.”
“Yes.”
He stiffened underneath her, not sure if he heard her clearly with the residual orgasm

buzz still in his ears. “Really?”

“How, though?” She looked back up at him, resting her cheek on his chest, tracing her

fingers lightly along his jaw.

“Phone calls, Skype, long weekends, and lots of phone sex.” He smiled and pressed a

kiss against her hair, inhaling her sweet scent.

He considered telling her about Jack and Lincoln’s suspicion about Lewis but decided

against it. Once they knew for certain who the leak was, he’d tell her. “And I can come to
New York more often. I’m about to start a whole new era in the career of Mick Blackwell.”

“What’s that entail?”
“I’ll be giving the studio a firm deadline to give me the deal or I’m going to walk. And

even if they don’t, I’m going to start my own production company so I can develop my
own projects.”

Piper’s brows crunched together, and he noticed the shadows around her eyes. She was

still beautiful, but up close he could tell she’d had a rough few days.

“Do you think you’d be interested in branching out into the book publishing industry? I

might be on the lookout for a new publisher,” she grumbled.

Oh hell. “What happened?”
“My publisher isn’t happy at all with the pictures. I don’t write sweet romance, but my

books are a far cry from erotica. My readership expects certain things from me, including

a particular image.” She rolled her eyes and played with the collar of his T-shirt.
“Between my editor, my mother, and some choice e-mails from now former readers, I
feel like I’m sixteen years old and got caught with my boyfriend in the backseat of his car
on prom night.”

“What are you going to do?”
“I wait to see if they’ll accept the latest book. If they pass on it, I don’t know what I’ll

do. Chris has feelers out to other houses, but they are cautious. Some friends are self-
published, but I don’t think that’s for me.”

“Well, if those idiots are stupid enough to let you go, you’ll land somewhere that isn’t

populated by a bunch of fucking morons.”

Piper stared at him, her eyes full of humor, her lips held tight against the laugh he

could see trembling behind them. He’d done that—he’d wiped away some of the stress he
saw on her face and had replaced it with humor and happiness. A guy could used to that
kind of power.

“You have quite the way with words, mister,” she said.
“And I didn’t even have a script.” He mugged a face, delighting when she gave in and

laughed out loud. “Sit up. I want to give you your present.”

They righted their clothing, shifting around on the floor, and he reached for the box and

handed it over to her. It was fifty-fifty whether she would slug him or kiss him.

Piper gave him a quizzical look as she unknotted the ribbon. When she lifted the lid,

she stared, the box suspended from her fingertips in midair.

“It’s the dress from Keiko,” he said, knowing she knew but needing to fill the silence.
“I know. It’s a fifteen-thousand-dollar dress.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, her

eyes now tracking where her hands touched the beautiful silk. She looked up at him, her
eyes wide, and he could see the tears pooled and sparkling along her lashes.

Oh shit. He hoped the tears were a good sign.
He suddenly felt unsure of himself. “You still need something to wear to the premiere.”

He swallowed hard, surprised at the way his heart pounded in his chest. Suddenly he
gave a shit about her reaction, and that made him a little queasy. If being in a
relationship was half this hard, it was no wonder all the poor bastards who were married
looked like shit. “I figured it was something a boyfriend would get his girlfriend.”

“Your what?”
“Girlfriend.” He tucked a curl behind her ear, surprised to see his hand shaking a little.

“C’mon throw me a bone. I’ve never been here before.”

“Been where?”
“Here. With you. Hoping to stay there.”
Piper eye’s fluttered shut and then opened to reveal eyes bright with tears and

something he hoped he wasn’t misreading. “It’s beautiful. But you should—”

“Don’t talk about the money. If you only knew how much I made last year you wouldn’t

worry about it.” He scooted over to her, cupping her face in his hands, pressing a kiss to
her lips before continuing. “It was so gorgeous on you, and I couldn’t stand the thought of
anyone else wearing it. So please just say ‘thank you’ and wear it. For me.”

She paused, and he could see a million reasons why she should refuse running through

her mind.

“For you.” She held him off when he dove in for another kiss, pointing a finger at him to

emphasize her point. “But you can’t do this kind of thing again. It’s just too much.”

“No promises I know I won’t keep. C’mon.” He shifted to his feet, bringing her with him.

“Where’s your bathroom? We need to get cleaned up.”

She led him down the hallway and then turned into a large bedroom and motioned

toward her bath. He looked around the large, sunny room with high ceilings. The colors
were a silvery gray and cream and a vintage, retro kind of look. Very “Piper.”

Mick began to strip, his clothes hitting the floor in a puddle. Piper stared, with eyes that

were hungry, devouring, and full of want that went way beyond lust. If he could keep that
look on her face, they might be alright.

“Stop looking at me like that or we’ll never make our dinner reservation.” He helped her

slide the dress off and pulled her into the bathroom with him, never letting her go even
when he leaned in to start the shower.

“What dinner reservation?”
“The one I made to show all the haters we don’t give a shit about those pictures.” He

caressed the soft skin of her. “You can’t hide in here and let them win. It’s time to let it
go.”

“We could do that in bed. With take-out.”
“No, you need to make a public statement. Trust me, I know how to handle this kind of

situation.”

“Why are you doing this? It’s not like we’re really together or anything.”
“You helped me when I needed it.” He brushed the pad of his thumb across her lips.

“That’s what friends do for each other, right?”

“Friends?”
“With benefits.”
“Oh.” Her eyes glazed over a little when he tracked his hand down her face, her neck,

and torso to bury his fingers in the place where she was always hot and needy for him.
He entered her with two fingers, and she sagged against him when his thumb pulsed her
clit.

Her voice caught on a sigh when she spoke. “We don’t need to go into the shower right

now, do we?”

“No, we don’t. Not right now.”

He laughed softly against her mouth as he reached behind him to turn off the shower

and led her back to the bed.

Chapter Eighteen

Mick was one of those crazy people who loved doing promotional work. He loved talking
about his work. He loved meeting the fans and getting that immediate feedback. Making
movies was a type of isolation project, and he craved the affirmation that people
appreciated his hard work.

And being in London for the premiere of the latest Dark movie? Awesome.
He also loved London. It was one of his favorite cities, but he missed Piper. Thank God

for texting and video-calling; they’d spoken several times a day, but it hadn’t been the
same. Dinner out in New York had been a success—great photos on all the blogs and
news shows—and they planned to do it again when he returned in two days.

They’d decided to let the press speculate all they wanted about their status. No

confirmation or denial coming from either of their camps. He loved keeping the press
guessing. It kept them both in the minds of the people who decide what should be on the
minds of the movie-going public.

Besides missing Piper, what he also didn’t like about this trip was the presence of

Tanya Roberts, his costar on this film, and her constant attempts to get in his pants. He’d
patiently explained how it wasn’t going to happen between them, but she persisted in
“trying to change his mind” as she called it. It had all come to a head earlier today in the
greenroom of a TV station, when he’d lost his temper and told her to keep her hands off
him. A furious Tanya had stalked off in a huff, and the interview had been all kinds of
awkward.

Mick could see her now across the crowded room of the after-premiere party thrown by

big investors in the movie. The guests were getting rowdy, fueled by the glamorous
setting, the presence of celebrities, and the open bar. The bar that Tanya had been
visiting way too often this evening for her too thin, bulimic body. Even from this distance,
he saw her sway on her feet. The guy chatting her up seemed to be taking full advantage
by groping her while he pretended to help keep her steady.

“Excuse me,” Mick said to the small group he was talking to and made his way across

the room.

By the time he got to Tanya, the guy had his hand up her skirt, in full view of all the

other guests and the press, and Tanya wasn’t in any shape to fend him off. Mick
suppressed the urge to deck the guy as he approached and stood in front of them.

“Buddy, you want to get your hands off her?” Mick asked, leaning in close to make sure

he was heard over the party noise.

“What’s it to you? You her boyfriend or something?” The guy sneered, his lips pulling

back in almost a feral parody of a smile.

Technically, Mick had no dog in this fight. Tanya had never been his girlfriend, only the

occasional partner in bed. But she was a colleague and a woman—an inebriated woman
—who deserved more respect.

“She’s drunk, and you’re out of your fucking mind if you think I’m going to let you take

advantage of her.” He stood up to his full height and wedged into the man’s personal
space. “Why don’t you crawl back into the sewer and leave her alone?”

The guy seemed to contemplate hitting him, but the determination in his eyes faltered

when Mick butted in even closer, pressing chest to chest with the guy and forcing him to
look up at him. Mick made sure his expression was deadly serious—thank you, John Dark
—and the guy took it seriously and slinked off with a nasty backward glance and a rudely
thrust middle finger.

“Tanya. You okay?” He placed his glass on the bar and took the one she had in her

hand and set it down next to his. “I think you need to call it a night. Press is crawling all
over this place.”

“What do you care?”
“I don’t, but I doubt you’ll want pictures of you getting felt up by some loser all over the

tabloids tomorrow.” He guided her toward the door, nodding his greeting to everyone
who waved at them while he scanned the crowd for her assistant. The little blonde was
usually up Tanya’s ass all the time, but now she was nowhere in sight. Figures. “I think
you need to take a break.”

“I don’t want a break.” The pout in her voice was almost cute but completely wasted on

him. Her helpless female routine and her D-cup breasts kept men drooling over her, but it
had only ever pissed him off. He liked her better when she was acting her part of
capable, smart sidekick in the Dark movies.

“Do you have a key to your room, Tanya?”
She sagged against him when he had to shift her to one arm in order to reach the

elevator button. He waited for the doors to open, then manhandled her into the car. The
doors closed behind them, and he hit the button for their floor. Her room was a few doors
down from his. “Tanya? You have your key?”

“Yeah.” She leaned on him, her arms around his neck, and he suppressed the urge to

push her away. He didn’t like this one bit, didn’t like the fact another woman was hanging
all over him when he’d promised Piper to avoid this very situation. He’d pour Tanya into
her room and get back to the party for the next couple of hours.

“Where is your key?” he asked, hoping he didn’t have to take her to his room to wait for

a porter to come up and unlock her room. No. He would prop her next to her door on the
hallway floor before her let her in his room. That he didn’t want to ever explain to Piper.

“It’s in my bag.” She waved the little purse in front of his face.
He dug around until he found the card slipped into an outside pocket. Palming it, he

waited out the exceedingly slow rise to their almost-penthouse rooms.

The elevator finally stopped on their floor, and the doors opened to an empty hallway.

No reporters or other guests were around to witness this little scenario. Thank God.

“Come on, Tanya. We’ll get you to your room, and you can sleep it off.” He hefted her

closer, arms around her waist as she continued to snuggle against him. He stepped up his
pace, suddenly anxious to get this episode over.

Her door came up quickly, and he juggled Tanya, who was now starting to revive

herself, and the key. The door swung open, and he guided her inside, flipping on the
lights in the suite. She had the same room he did, a good-sized sitting room with a
seating area, minibar area, and a separate bedroom with an en suite bath.

He dumped Tanya on the sofa. She glared up at him, her irritation almost comical on a

face surrounded by an elaborate hairstyle and glamorous makeup.

“I wouldn’t drink any more tonight.” He backed up, anxious to get out of here as soon

as he could. “I’ll see you in LA.”

“Why don’t you return my calls anymore?” Tanya asked, her voice blurred by liquor and

genuine confusion.

“Tanya…” Mick groaned at the turn in the conversation. He didn’t want to have this

conversation with her—ever. He was never good at this. He didn’t have to be, since
everyone knew the rules and played nice when they weren’t on his speed dial any longer.
This was hard.

“No, Mick.” She rose from the couch, only a little unsteady since the anger blazing in

her eyes appeared to sober her up better than any coffee. “We were good together. We
were amazing. And then you stopped calling…because of that fat girl with the glasses.”

“She isn’t fat.” Mick reined in his temper, taking a deep breath and remembering not to

fall for the bait. Tanya was a drama queen, and he’d be in the middle of a scene if he
didn’t watch it.

“You act like you love her or something.” Her lips twisted in an ugly smile, more feral

and yet honest than any he’d seen her give before. “But when you get tired of her, you’ll
come back for this.”

In two steps, Tanya was within arm’s length of him. With a quick twist of her wrist at

the shoulder straps on her dress, it fell to the ground, and she was naked. No panties. No
bra. Just the tight body that would have excited him two months ago but now did
nothing.

“Shit, Tanya. What the hell are you doing?” He bent over to retrieve the dress to cover

her up, but he was stopped when she launched herself into his arms and latched her
mouth on to his in a wet, sloppy kiss.

The forward momentum of her body threw them both back against the wall, and he

stumbled, almost losing his footing. With the leverage of the solid wall behind him, he

was able to reach up behind his neck, grab her hands, and pull them down. Tanya
grunted in frustration when he pushed her away. He quickly scooped her dress off the
floor, then shoved it at her. His hands shook a little with adrenaline and anger, his mind
skittering from one thought to the next as he tried to process what the hell just
happened.

Tanya was pale, her lips quivering with the tears just poised on the edges of her eyes.

If she thought he was going to stick around to be a shoulder for her to cry on, she was
crazy. His Good Samaritan shift was over.

“Tanya, I don’t know what the fuck your problem is, but don’t ever touch me again.”

Mick covered the distance to the door, wrenched it open, and slammed it behind him. The
violence of the action partially assuaged his need to hit something as he turned in the
opposite direction from the elevator and headed to his room. He dug out his keycard and
entered the sanctuary of his personal space.

Turning on the lights, he dug in the pocket of his jacket, found his phone, and pulled up

his itinerary. With a couple of quick calls to the airline and the front desk, he’d changed
his flight to catch an earlier one, bound for New York.

…

The flight was uneventful, and Mick had even grabbed a few hours sleep, which went a
long way toward erasing his discomfort over the thing with Tanya. At La Guardia, he
disembarked the plane, thanking the pilots and crew, and headed to the terminal for
private planes to find the car he’d hired to take him to Piper’s apartment.

At the counter, he greeted the concierge, a pretty young woman he recognized from

prior travels, but instead of giving him her usual confident smile, she frowned and
stammered as she checked the paperwork on her desk.

“I’ll…umm…check on your car for you, Mr. Blackwell,” she mumbled, then stepped

away, leaving him alone.

Mick watched her retreat, leaning on the counter to wait for her return. He was tired

and jet-lagged, and he couldn’t wait to get to Piper’s and crash in her big, luxurious bed.

The television overhead transitioned from a commercial to the news program on a local

channel. The anchor rambled on about some festival in Brooklyn and then handed over
the screen time to the entertainment reporter, a woman Mick recognized from a prior
interview. She was smiling, her wide smile filled with ultrawhite teeth, but her grin
sobered when she began her main story. He started to turn away when a photograph of
him with Piper filled the screen and then was dramatically wrenched apart—the space
filling with a picture of Tanya.

“What the hell?” Mick leaned over the counter to snag the remote control to turn up the

volume.

The television screen was filled with photographs of him bringing Tanya into her room

and the events that followed. From the shots, it was hard to tell if he was holding her
close or pushing her away when she dropped her dress and launched herself at him, but
the headline flashing across the screen told him exactly how the press was playing it.

Mick Blackwell and Tanya Roberts. What happens in London doesn’t stay in London.

Chapter Nineteen

She was going to throw up.

Piper’s hand shook and her vision went blurry as she dropped the papers in her hand

onto the kitchen table. Little had she known when she’d accepted the courier delivery
from a national newspaper that the packet would contain information that would rock her
happy world. She tried to forget the grainy photographs spilling out from the envelope as
she sank down into the nearest chair, struggling to find focus. Hell, she prayed to just
stay conscious. This was really bad.

The photos were awful. Pictures of Mick kissing a naked woman…Tanya Roberts, the

actress…in a hotel room. The photos were grainy but clear enough to see it all. And the
article was so ugly. It said Mick had been with this woman in London, continuing the
affair begun on the set of the last Dark movie. According to a quote from Tanya, they’d
never stopped seeing each other, and his current relationship with Piper had done
nothing to cool it down. One of the headlines screamed, “Mick back to his old tricks with a
woman on each coast,” and the article implied she and Tanya had worked out a schedule
to share him.

What made her dizzy with shock were the two paragraphs detailing how the

photographer had gained access to Mick’s Hawaiian place and taken the pictures of them
making love on the beach. It discussed the stuff she already knew about the
housekeeper’s son stealing the code in exchange for twenty thousand dollars and the
subsequent sales of the photos to the magazine.

But the last two lines were the ones that hurt: the money had been traced back to

Mick’s account, and the thief was now reporting Mick had been the one to arrange for the
photographs. And according to a reputable source, Mick had arranged the exclusive sale
of the photographs to the tabloid.

All this was supported by alleged texts and e-mails from Mick to Jung Kim, the thief,

and a top executive at the tabloid.

It couldn’t be true.
Chris grabbed the papers from her, skimming over them with frantic eyes. He sank

down beside her at the table and grabbed her hand. “Piper, this is going to be okay.”

She wrenched her hand away and stood, frantically pacing across the floor. “No. It’s not

going to be okay. This”—she gestured to the papers—“this is terrible. Who would do this?
This is so ugly. Why can’t they just leave us alone?”

She sank down on the chair again and put her face in her hands, thinking of what Mick

would say when he heard about this. She checked her watch, noting the time and
calculating the difference with London. “I need to talk to Mick, but his plane just took off

in London. Damn it.”

The buzzer from the front desk rang, and Chris walked over to answer it. He listened

and turned back to Piper with a look of surprise. “Speak of the devil. Loverboy is at your
door.”

“Let him in.”
Without arguing, Chris swung the door open.
Mick stepped through the doorway and tossed his bags to the floor. “Piper, I’m sorry,”

he said.

On automatic pilot, Piper stood up and walked over to him on unsteady legs—her heart

seeking its favorite source of comfort. He took one look at her face, frowned, and pulled
her close against his chest. Hold me, Mick. Just hold me and make everything better. She
buried her face against him and let his strength wash over her.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” Mick crooned against her hair as he rubbed her back. “I

take it you saw the report.”

Piper pulled back from his embrace, took a steadying breath, then reached out and

grabbed the sheaf of papers. She shoved them into his hands. “Yes, I know. These were
sent over. The paper wanted to give me a chance to comment. Of course we’ll deny the
whole thing. I think we need to fight it this time and maybe take legal action.” Her
frustration rose in her chest, restricting her breathing. “They can’t just print a bunch of
lies and expect to get away with it. I’m just getting so sick of this.”

Mick let out a breath in a big whoosh as he lowered the papers and placed them on the

table. Rubbing his jaw with a large, callused hand, he turned and looked out the big bank
of windows that faced the street, a nerve twitching in his left temple. He wasn’t happy,
but she wasn’t clear on if he was angry at her.

His voice was gravelly when he spoke. “Piper. You know I’d never do anything to hurt

you.” He turned and stared right into her eyes. “Don’t you?”

Piper barely understood him. It sounded like he’d been involved in this mess

but that

couldn’t be right. No. No. No. Not you. “What are you saying? Mick?” Her voice came out
barely above a whisper.

Chris stepped between them, his eyes hard. “I think he’s telling you it’s true.”
Mick groaned, and Chris shoved him, his palms slamming into his chest. “You bastard.

What the fuck did you do?

Piper gasped at the venom, the ugliness in Chris’s voice. Stunned, she barely registered

Mick’s attempt to get to her and how Chris blocked his way. Like two fighters meeting in
a ring, they squared off as the tension in the room grew to an unbearable level. She
wasn’t about to let the two men she loved most in the world come to blows over what
had to be a misunderstanding.

She insinuated herself between them, holding her hands up like a referee. “Okay. Back

off you two, and let’s talk about what the hell is going on here.”

Mick moved close to her side. He reached out and seized her hands, holding her in

place so he could look right into her eyes. “Piper, baby, it isn’t how the reporter made it
sound.”

This wasn’t what she wanted to hear from him right now. She was looking for

wholesale denial. Outrage. Instead, she was getting guilty looks and remorse. “Were you
with that woman in her hotel room last night?” she asked.

He swallowed hard, his breath coming fast. His eyes were hot as they bore into hers. “I

would never do what you’re thinking. Never do that to you. You’ve got to believe me.”

It was hard to speak with the huge lump lodged in her throat. She wrenched her hands

away from his grasp, and when she spoke her voice sounded brittle and broken—a good
match to how she felt all over. “So, you were in a hotel room with a naked Tanya last
night?”

Mick flinched like she’d struck him. “Yes. But not for the reason you think.”
“Then why?”
“I was trying to do the right thing. She got drunk at the premiere party, and I took her

back to her room to make sure she was safe. Once inside, she’s suddenly dropping her
clothes and crawling all over me. I got her off me as soon as I could. I had no idea there
was camera equipment in the room.”

“You’re saying she set you up?”
“Apparently. I just don’t understand why.”
Chris jumped in, his hands white-knuckled and fisted at his sides. “I know why. Tanya is

pissed you aren’t fucking her anymore.”

“It just doesn’t make any sense. That wasn’t what we were about. It was just casual

fun.” Mick blew out a breath as he raked a hand through his hair.

Piper considered what he said. It rang with truth—this was Mick—the man she was in

love with. The man who only did casual. The man who would never change. The man
who didn’t fall in love.

The man who would never love her back.
“I don’t think she agreed with you,” she said.
Chris stepped into Mick’s space. “Okay, say we believe your story about Tanya. What’s

the deal with the twenty thousand dollars and the e-mails proving you were in on leaking
those photos to the press?”

“I don’t have to answer to you,” Mick snarled.
“Mick. Just answer the question.” Piper slumped against the table, a migraine licking at

the edges of her brain, conflicting emotions sending her stomach roiling. “Was the money
from your account?”

He looked pained but met her gaze squarely when he answered, “Yes.”

She nodded. “How do you explain that?”
“I can’t.” He reached out a hand in a placating gesture, like he was approaching an

animal in the wild. “At least, not yet.”

“And the e-mails and texts?”
“All from my own account. All verified by my IT guy just a little while ago.”
“You want Piper to believe you didn’t sell those photos? With the money trail and the

information all linking directly back to you?” Chris voiced exactly the questions rioting in
her mind.

“Someone must have hacked into my account. It might have been my manager or

another pissed-off employee. I’ve got people working on it.”

“Those stories and excuses are a lot for Piper to swallow all at once,” Chris stated

evenly. “Too much coincidence to be believed.”

Mick turned to her. “Piper, I need you to trust me. Give me some time to figure this

out.” His resolve was communicated through every muscle in his body.

Trust. Yes, that would be the solution to all of this, but she couldn’t say she had it in

her toolbox to offer to anyone.

Piper stared, her brain hurting with the effort to process all the crap thrown at her in

the last hour. She made her way over to the table that was covered with the article and
photographs now gracing the newsstands and computers of America. With icy hands, she
pulled the pages over to her and reviewed them again.

Most of the article was trash, all speculation, but enough of it was true to make her

hesitate. By Mick’s admission, the e-mails and texts were real, and the photos with Tanya
had been real. The truth and lies were all mashed up together, and she didn’t know what
to believe.

Shame on her that she still couldn’t trust the man she knew she loved. Antonio had

broken that part of her, and she didn’t know how to fix it. But without it, she wasn’t sure
how any relationship with Mick would work out. He was always going to be the focus of
women determined to get in his bed, and she was always going to be insecure. Not the
best beginning for any couple.

“Chris, can you leave us alone for a few minutes?”
“Piper.” Chris’s anguished voice screamed in surround sound just how much of a bad

idea he thought this was. “I don’t think I should.”

She walked the few steps over to grab his hand and give it a squeeze, her heart

contracting at the same time at the protective look on his face. He couldn’t fight this
battle for her no matter how much he wanted to.

“I need you to let me handle this one on my own. Okay?”
“Fine. I’ll be in your office.” He stopped and leveled a look at Mick. “One word from her

and I’ll kick your ass.”

“Back off, man. I didn’t do it.”
“You might not have hit ‘send’ on the e-mail, but you’re responsible. The buck stops

with you.”

She watched as Chris walked to her office, entered, and closed the door before she

turned back to Mick. He moved toward her and she backed up, her hands shooting in
front of her in defensive gesture.

“Piper.”
“Mick. I need you to go away.”
“Talk to me.” His voice was ragged and desperate. “Scream at me. Tell me to fuck

myself. But let’s work it out. I can fix it. I always fix it.”

She was struck by the look on his face—cocky and put out but not outraged. He didn’t

have a clue what this meant to her. This was just another Hollywood game to him. “What
—we go out to dinner again and this all goes away?”

“It’s just PR gone bad. Let me make a few calls, and we can sort it out. Hell, we can

sue these people if you want.”

“Mick—my career isn’t going to survive another long-term scandal. A trial? Accusations

that are only going to get uglier? Everyone knowing that once again I have the worst
taste in men?” She shoved at his chest with her hand, ignoring the shock on his face.
“You can’t just fix this, Mick.”

“I can fix anything. Just give me—”
Piper lifted her hands up to warn him off as he took another step toward her. She

wanted to believe him and would probably buy any explanation he gave—and that scared
the shit out of her. She needed space and time to figure this out without him so close in
proximity, making it impossible to think straight.

“Mick, I don’t know if I believe you, and I really don’t care right now. Just go.” Tears

welled in her eyes as she begged, “If you care about me at all, leave.”

He pointed to the spot where they’d made love just a few days ago. “Just a few days

ago you believed. I have enough faith for both of us until you can trust me.”

Oh my God. He was being too sweet, too willing, and she wanted to give in, to cave

and let his faith be enough for both of them. But she couldn’t do that. “I need some
time.”

“No. I give you time, and you figure out a way to put distance between us again. I

know how this works for you. You shut down and I get shut out, and then you make the
decision for both of us.” He stalked to her, grabbing her arms and pulling her to him for a
hard kiss.

Her hands lifted on their own and her nails dug into his shoulders, her mouth opening

to him and allowing him to plunder until they had to separate for air.

She loved him, but she needed to end this before it ended her. “I don’t think you’re

good for me. I’ve got too much baggage from what happened with Antonio, and with you,
I’m always going to wonder when that other shoe is going to drop.”

“I’m with you because I want to be. And I can handle whatever happens. It will all work

out.”

“You said that before.” Her words came out on a choked sob, fueled by part sadness

and part anger. “You promised me that before and look what happened.”

“I would never hurt you.”
“But you did. You do.”
“That isn’t fair.” Mick barely got the words out, his voice pained and his breathing

unsteady. The wounded look on his face told her that he wasn’t the only one who was
getting hurt today.

“You see? We keep hurting each other. That can’t be how love is supposed to be.”
Mick paled under his mocha skin, the grip on her shoulders loosening with his shock.

She stepped closer, reaching out to touch him but pulling her hand back at the last
moment. This was hard enough.

But there was something she needed to say, because this is where it ended. “I know

you don’t want to hear it, but I do love you. I just don’t think I can be with you.”

They stood there for a few moments, staring each other down, waiting to see who

would blink first. Piper’s stomach clenched with tension and she held her breath, waiting
for him to give up and leave. When he lowered his eyes and nodded in defeat, the pain
ripped through her like one of the explosions in his movies.

He silently steadied himself for a moment. When he lifted his face again, it was devoid

of emotion. “I can’t tell you the same thing, and if you think… If that’s how you feel, then
it’s probably best if I go. I can’t… I don’t…” His voice was icy enough to put goose bumps
on her flesh.

He gave her a look—part apology and part something she couldn’t read—and then he

walked out of her life.

She bit her tongue to resist calling him back as he walked through her door. She stood

there, body numb with the shock at what had just occurred. It hurt like hell—at least it
would when her heart thawed out—but it was the right thing to do. For both of them.

With a deep sigh, she lowered herself to a chair, brushing away the tears pooling in her

eyes. Dammit. Put on your big girl panties and get a grip. Her thoughts were jumbled,
tumbling over one another until she wanted to scream in frustration. She needed to get
all of the people—the press, her publisher, Mick—out of her head and focus on what she
had to do next.

Tears rolled down her cheeks and into her hair, and all she could do was let them fall.

She was tired of looking over her shoulder. Tired of worrying about what everyone else
thought. Tired of being disappointed. Tired of letting the past dictate the rest of her life.

But she didn’t know how to put it behind her.
The last vestiges of her control faded away, and she buried her face into her hands and

cried like a baby.

Chapter Twenty

Mick sat down on the couch in Lincoln’s living room and drew the papers out of the
envelope Jack had slid across the cushions. Lincoln watched from a perch on a chair on
the opposite side of the coffee table, making no effort to hide his curiosity.

He’d arrived home from New York two days earlier, alternatively pissed off and baffled

by what Piper had said to him. Back-to-back promo for Dark had left him little time to
focus on the investigation, but when Jack had called an hour earlier, stating he had
urgent information and needed to meet him at Lincoln’s house, he’d rescheduled an
interview and left Lewis in the pool house, going over publicity opps.

“This report contains the results of the investigation by your security team into what

Lewis was up to the last year,” Jack explained, pointing to the top page of the sheaf in
his hands.

“The last year?” Mick paused in his review of the documents, confused over the

expanded timeline for the investigation.

“Yes. They found so much within the last six months that we all thought we should go

back a little further.” Jack’s expression was serious. “Mick, I needed more information on
Lewis than your usual team could get me. So I hired a private firm to help out.”

Mick knew he wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear. Jack was usually an

easygoing person, always ready with a smile and assurance that he could handle things
quickly and efficiently. His current demeanor was deadly serious and very angry.

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” Mick stated, devouring the facts detailed on the report.
Jack shrugged, his tone and look unapologetic. “I know. I have a PI friend, and he owed

me a favor.” He leaned over, pointing to a clipped bunch of documents lying in Mick’s lap,
tapping the one on the top. “It turns out it was a great idea. Lewis has been a very bad
boy. He was the one who paid Jung Kim the twenty large to let the photographer onto
your property in Hawaii. And Lewis was the one who arranged for their sale to the
tabloid.”

Mick leafed through the pictures. With each image, each document, the fury building in

Mick’s blood blurred his vision until everything swam in a field of red. But his hearing

worked just fine, and he listened to every sordid detail.

“He’s had you followed by a photographer for weeks. He’s on the payroll of several of

the trashier publications for information on you.” Jack reached over and pulled out a
photograph of Lewis with Tanya Roberts, deep in conversation at an LA restaurant. “He
also had an agreement with Tanya to trap you in London and to sell the pictures.”

“Was Tanya really that pissed off at me that she would pair up with Lewis? She called

him the weasel.” The question ground out of his mouth between gritted teeth.

“According to her statement—”
“Her statement?”
“Yes. Our guy in London talked to her after the story broke but before she headed back

to the States. She had a change of heart when confronted with the knowledge that we
knew all about her deal with Lewis. She did set you up out of spite, and while she’s very
sorry now, I’m not sure if it’s because of what she did or the fact she got caught.”

“I bet I can guess which one it is,” Lincoln grumbled from across the room, his face hard

with anger. “This is just up her alley.”

Mick shook his head, trying to clear it enough to get a clear picture on what he’d been

told so far. “So, you have proof of all of this?”

Jack nodded. “E-mails, texts, electronic maps of where and when Lewis withdrew the

money from your account. I have a packet of the information we need to turn over to the
police, but there’s plenty left over to take our own action against him.”

“Piper lost her contract,” Lincoln added. “It was in the e-edition of a publishing blog this

morning. Her publisher cut her loose.”

“Because of all of this?” Mick asked.
“They cited ‘creative differences,’ but I talked to Chris this morning. They’d been

looking for an excuse since she missed her book deadline a year ago. This was it,” Jack
answered.

“Fuck.” Mick buried his head in his hands, the pain where his fingers gripped his hair a

relief compared to what he was feeling inside. “I’ll call them.”

“You can’t fix it this time, Mick,” Jack said, his tone resigned. “I checked.”
“Call him in here,” Mick demanded, straightening up.
“Who?”
“Lewis. He’s thirty yards away, in my house. Call the motherfucker in here. Now.”
Minutes later, Lewis walked into the room, his phone in his hand, thumbs at the ready

to text and execute.

Mick wasted no time getting to the point. “You’re fired.”
“What?” Lewis staggered but stayed on his feet by grabbing the end of the couch.
“I know what you did. The photographer you hired. Tanya.”
“You can’t fire me. I worked my fucking ass off to build your brand, to sell Mick

Blackwell to the public,” Lewis shouted, his breath coming quickly and his face going red.
He strode up to Mick, stopping just short of touching him but communicating his message
quite clearly.

“I don’t care. Your actions cost Piper her contract. You smeared my name all over the

papers by dealing with these criminals.”

“You told me to do whatever it took.”
“Not this. Never this.”
“You can’t be serious about throwing all of this away for a chick with big tits who likes

to take it up the ass,” Lewis ground out. His voice was rough, but Mick heard every word.
And so did everyone else in the room if the sudden silence was any indicator.

Mick had spent a lot of time hitting people on the big screen. He’d trained with some of

the best stunt men in the industry to learn how to roll out of a fall, to jump from high up,
and to make it looked like he’d punched someone’s lights out without even coming near
them. But the sensation of his fist hitting Lewis in the face was at once both painful and
the most satisfying feeling he’d experienced outside of the bedroom.

He kept his eyes open the entire time, so he saw Lewis’s surprised and shocked

awareness of what was happening, the two to three second delay on Jack and Lincoln’s
reactions, and the way Lewis bounced slightly when his body hit the floor. The asshole
would probably sue him, but he didn’t care. He’d fight any lawsuit from here until
doomsday before he’d let anyone talk about Piper that way.

“You dick! I’m going to sue you!” Lewis shouted, on cue, from his position on the

ground. He struggled to get up, the blood-covered hand clamped over his nose.

“Go ahead. You’ll need something to do now that you’re unemployed.” Mick glanced at

Lincoln, massaging his hand where it was beginning to swell. It didn’t feel broken, but it
still throbbed. “Call security and have them come get this guy.”

Lincoln nodded, picking up the house phone to call down to the security shack. Within

minutes, two large guards were barreling through the living room door, their backs rigid
with obvious apprehension over what they might find here.

Lewis, now standing near the fireplace with a wad of tissues pressed against his face,

shot him an acid glance, the hatred in his eyes enough to make Mick consciously lock his
feet in place to stop himself from taking a step backward. Maybe Lewis had been the
better actor, because that kind of enmity didn’t just pop up overnight. He wondered how
long he’d had a viper in such close proximity…and when Lewis would strike back in
revenge.

Lewis pulled away from the guards, starting to make a show of resistance, but gave it

up when the bigger of the two grasped him around both arms and began to manhandle
him out the door.

“Whoa! Wait.” Mick walked over to the three men, reached inside Lewis’s jacket pocket,

and pulled out his smartphone. He waved the device back and forth in front of Lewis’s
face, perversely enjoying the way his coloring was turning a pissed-off shade of purple. “I
pay for this, so I’m keeping it. I’ll need it to give to my new manager.”

“You have no fucking clue what you’re doing. Your career will fall apart without me,”

Lewis snarled.

“I doubt it,” Mick replied evenly, then nodded for the guards to take him outside.
He turned and took the few steps necessary to get to the minifridge at the bar and

scoop out a few ice cubes into a napkin. Easing the little bundle onto his knuckles, he
sighed at the relief it brought to the bruise he could already see forming under the skin.
He’d have to tape it up for the next few days and ward off reporter’s questions about how
it had happened. Great. Between the injury and Lewis being fired, some reporter would
start sniffing around even if Lewis didn’t start blabbing. He’d signed a confidentiality
agreement, but Mick didn’t fool himself for one minute that Lewis would abide by it.

Mick looked up to find Lincoln and Jack staring at him. “What? You think I shouldn’t

have decked him?”

They both shook their head in the negative, then Lincoln asked, “I guess Piper means a

lot to you, huh? Something you want to tell us?”

“I love her,” Mick answered. It was the truth. He knew it in his gut. It didn’t get any

simpler than that, and he couldn’t think of one reason to deny it.

He bit back a laugh at the stunned expression on their faces. Linc had been his friend

since middle school and Jack had been his attorney and friend for the last decade, so he
could understand their shock. They’d listened to him rail against the restrictions of love
and relationships often enough to think he’d never take the plunge. Four weeks ago, he
would have agreed with them. But Piper was amazing, smart, talented, and funny, and he
couldn’t help but fall for her.

“Then you definitely needed to hit him,” Lincoln said.
“You should have fired him years ago, Mick. For Lewis, it was always about Lewis, and

he wasn’t looking out for your interests unless it also got him something,” Jack stated.

“I agree. Watch your back with him. He’s got a vindictive streak and isn’t afraid to use

it,” Lincoln said.

Mick swiped a hand over his face. “What do you suggest?”
Suddenly using his “lawyer” voice, Jack handed him an official-looking document. “I’m

concerned about what he’ll do with the information he’s gathered now that he’s been
fired. I recommend we file an injunction on your behalf first thing tomorrow morning. It
will stop him from publishing any remaining information he has to the public.” On a roll,
he scooted his chair forward and thumped his hand on the coffee table. “I think we should
also sue him for breach of contract and anything else I can throw at him.”

Mick stared down at the papers lying on the couch in front of him, processing the latest

bombshell. This was just too much to take in. He winced at the thought of what he’d
brought to Piper’s doorstep. His stomach churned with the full-force reminder that what
they’d shared had been sold and published worldwide because Lewis paid some sleazy
stranger to act as voyeur.

“Are there—” He swallowed hard, dislodging the brick of anger lodged in his throat. “Do

you think he has any more pictures? Of me and Piper?”

The silence stretched for what seemed like hours before Jack finally answered. “I think

he probably does.”

At those words, the ball of tension in his stomach roiled into something sharp, hot—a

fireball of anger at how Lewis had destroyed the best thing that had ever happened to
him. For the first time in the two days since Piper had broken up with him, the sensation
of hatred directed at Lewis overshadowed the bone-deep longing for her and what they
could have had. Lewis had ruined it all.

That son of a bitch.
Nodding to Jack, he gave him the go-ahead. “I want Lewis destroyed. Left with nothing.

Now. Sue him for breach of contract. File the injunction. Have him thrown in jail and
assigned a cell with a big guy named Bubba.”

“Done.”
Silence, heavy with Mick’s determination, spread throughout the room, until Lincoln

broke it. “Mick. You need to let Piper know what Jack has discovered. Tell her about
Lewis and Tanya. That will clear up everything between you two.”

Mick would have been lying if he denied that the exact same thought hadn’t crossed his

mind the minute he’d seen the proof of his innocence. But his guilt wasn’t the only
problem.

“No, Linc. The bottom line is that Piper is afraid—afraid to trust me, afraid to face the

press and all the other assholes who want to bring us down. She needs to decide to do
that on her own, come to the choice for herself, because I can’t spend the rest of my life
always trying to prove myself when some tabloid prints a story.”

Lincoln shook his head. “But won’t this stuff do that? How can she deny it when it’s in

black and white?”

“Because it isn’t about the facts.” Mick lifted a finger to touch the space just over his

heart. “I screwed up, but now it’s about her believing she’s strong enough to get through
all the bullshit and trust in us. I can’t do it for her, and I can’t convince her. She’s got to
do that on her own.” It killed him to say it, but it was true. If Piper didn’t come to her own
peace about their living in the spotlight, they’d just keep hurting each other.

“Bullshit.” Lincoln’s eyes were angry and hard. “ You did this, Mick. Lewis was acting for

you, and you need to be the one to make it right.”

“I don’t know how to do that.” He was no good at the big gesture. He’d never had to do

it before.

“You’re ‘Mick Fucking Blackwell.’” Lincoln’s derision was highlighted by the air quotes he

knew Mick hated. “You own this town, and you’ll do anything for your career. But you
can’t do something for Piper? If you really love this woman—if you finally decided to grow
the hell up and give a shit about someone else—then figure out how to make it right.”

Mick stared at Lincoln, unable to say anything. He suddenly saw himself as his oldest

friend saw him, and it made him sick with shame. This was his fault—maybe not all of it—
but enough to where he had to make it right.

And he knew if he didn’t, he’d never get Piper back, and that was something he wanted

desperately.

If he didn’t make it right—he’d never deserve her anyway.

Chapter Twenty-one

For the first time in years, Piper had no looming deadline. No career. No book on the
horizon. She’d left her apartment earlier in the day and had drifted about until she’d
finally found herself at Chris’s apartment. He’d given her a key, so she’d let herself in and
had proceeded to make herself at home. Now, she shifted her gaze to the bustling
activity of New York City outside the window and stared. So many stories out there on
the streets of her favorite town and not one of them spoke to her right now, not one
begged her to commit it to pixels and code.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t write—she just didn’t feel like it. When she sat at the

keyboard, her fingers moved like they belonged to someone else. Words appeared—good
words, commercially marketable words—but none of them gave her the joy or peace that
were to her like endorphins to athletes.

She missed Mick terribly, and nothing could break through the ache that constantly

permeated her muscles, bones, and tissue. Antonio had been a body blow—swiftly painful
and quickly numbed—but this was different. Maybe it was because she’d been the one to
walk away this time. Maybe it was because she woke with Mick’s name on her lips and
her skin aching for his touch. Maybe it was because she’d never loved Antonio the way
she loved Mick.

“Should I knock?”
She turned to see Chris standing at the door to his own apartment. He was as

handsome as ever, but the worry shadowing the lines on his face marred his otherwise
perfect appearance. It was the same look he’d worn every time he’d come by to see her
since she’d ended things with Mick two weeks ago. She regretted causing her friend that
kind of worry.

“Hey.” She smiled at him and gestured to the mess on the countertop. “I got tired of

being at my place and decided to make you dinner.”

“Ah, death by charitable food poisoning. My favorite way to go.” He edged into the

room, caution mapped over every inch of his former football player’s frame. “Have you
eaten today?”

“Yes, Mom.”
“You should at least call me Dad when I treat you like a toddler.”
“At least you can admit you’re being an overbearing pain in the ass,” she countered.
“Only because you’re starting to scare the shit out of me.”
His expression said he wasn’t kidding, and her heart did a little flip with the knowledge

that she was causing this much concern. Time to put on her big girl panties and stop
scaring her friends.

“Sorry. I know you’ve had a hard time lately. I just…”
“I know.” She reached up and squeezed his hand where it rested on the back of her

chair. “And I love you for it.” They locked eyes for a while until they both chuckled with
what had become a staring contest. Chris always could make her feel better. “So, here is
my report for today: I did not adopt ten cats and change my will to give it all to the feline
rescue shelter. Sound good?”

“More than I could hope for.” He set his messenger bag down on the coffee table and

turned on the TV. He eased himself down on the couch, staring straight ahead as he
surfed the channels. “Scott Crews is interviewing Mick in a few minutes.” He turned to
look at her, the tension in the lines of his body telling her he was braced for impact. “You
need to watch it.”

Her heart lurched and skipped a beat, which caused her to have to take a moment to

catch her breath. “Why? I’m not going to comment, so I don’t know why I would bother.”

“Piper.” Chris waited until she looked at him. “Even if you don’t want to comment, it’s

going to cause a stir, and you’ll be asked about it in the future. You need to be prepared.”

Hell. He was right. She didn’t want to, but she planted herself down on the loveseat

across from the TV as Chris found the correct channel. The screen was filled with stupid
commercials for a few minutes, and then the familiar title sequence for Scott Crews’s
show came on.

The screen went black for the briefest moment before Mick was before her, larger than

life and so very sexy. She stared, drinking in all the details: he was wearing one of her
favorite shirts, and his face was a little thinner, more angular, since she last saw him. He
was cautious, but only someone who knew him well would know the smile wasn’t
genuine.

Scott leaned forward and shook hands with Mick, and then the interview began with

them talking about his latest Dark movie and his career, namely the multiproject deal
he’d just inked with the studio, which granted him executive producer status and backing
for two non-Dark projects of his choosing.

“Good for you,” she breathed out.
“What did you say?” Chris asked.
“Nothing,” Piper answered, feeling her cheeks heat with embarrassment. She tuned

back into the interview at the mention of Lewis King. Scott had mentioned that Mick had
fired Lewis.

Mick responded, saying, “Lewis was my manager for ten years, and in that capacity he

had access to private information involving not only me but the people close to me. I
fired him and am now suing for breach of contract and other counts of violating my
privacy. We have incontrovertible proof of his betrayal.”

“According to the evidence—which include texts, e-mails, and electronic data trails,”

Scott said, “Lewis sold several tabloids information about you. And he and Tanya Roberts
orchestrated the sexually incriminating photos of you that were published just a few
weeks ago.”

Piper’s heart beat a heavy, rapid tattoo in her chest that almost drowned out the TV.

She grabbed the remote and adjusted the volume higher. Mick had told her someone had
set him up from the inside, but she never would have guessed it had been Lewis.

Mick nodded at Scott’s comment, saying, “Lewis paid the man who let the photographer

onto my private estate in Hawaii and took intimate pictures of myself and a friend.”

“The author, Piper James?” Scott probed.
Mick paused for a moment, and Piper could see the pain flickering in his eyes for a

moment before he used his impressive acting skills and wiped it away. She felt a selfish
wave of comfort knowing he hadn’t moved on so easily.

After clearing his throat, Mick said, “Yes, Piper. The photographs and the accompanying

articles hurt her deeply and embarrassed us both. What was supposed to have been a
private time together was ruined by a jerk with a telephoto lens.”

“But Mick, it isn’t like you haven’t spent the last decade splashing your love life all over

the headlines.”

Piper flashed a glance at Chris, who gave her a look of compassion.
“You’re right, but those were my choices. This particular incident was without

permission and was done with calculated malice.”

She wasn’t sure she could watch another moment.
“Wait,” Mick said suddenly. “That isn’t entirely true. Lewis worked for me, and I was the

one who told him to do whatever he needed to get me publicity. I didn’t know exactly
what he was doing, but people warned me.” Mick gave a half-smile and pointed a finger
at Scott. “In fact, you warned me, and I ignored it because Lewis made my life easier, my
career more successful. I didn’t really care about the consequence as long as they were
to my benefit. And those consequences ended up harmful to other people.”

Mick looked like a spring, coiled and tight, but ready to erupt at any minute. Piper’s

palms grew damp as apprehension crept along her skin and settled in the tender spot at
the back of her neck.

On the TV screen, Scott leaned forward, closer to Mick, and lowered his tone. “Ms.

James ended your relationship because of this situation? She didn’t believe you? She
couldn’t stand the heat?”

Piper’s face flushed, and she knew she had the telltale pink patches on her cheeks. An

entire menu of emotions crashed through her system—embarrassment, anger, anxiety—
but she remained riveted, straining to hear what Mick would say.

He sighed. “Piper was tired of being the subject of gossip, rumors, and lies, and I don’t

blame her. I am not an easy man to love—”

Scott interjected. “Love?”
“Yes, love. I know it will come as a shock for most,” Mick said, “but I fell in love with

her. I had no choice but to get all the facts necessary to prove the newspapers wrong
about us. About her.”

Chris reached over and grabbed her hand. She squeezed for all she was worth.
“So, all of this—the investigation, the lawsuit—it’s all for her?” Scott asked.
Mick nodded. “When it comes down to it—yes. I was betrayed, but she was the one

who paid the price.” He leaned forward and the camera zoomed in, making sure every
nuance of his expression was clear as crystal.

Piper found herself leaning forward as well, drawn in by the drama unfolding before

her.

“She was the one cheated on by Antonio Rojas,” Mick continued. “A man who’d pledged

to marry her and said he loved her—but the press made it out that she was the stupid
one for loving him. They made a painful situation even worse so they could sell a few
more newspapers, and she fell apart. Understandably. But now this whole thing has cost
her the career she loved and I was selfish. Ignored the way it impacted her.”

He paused, rubbing a hand over his face and through his dark curls. His movements

were jerky with frustration and anger. She longed to steady them with her own.

“Piper took a chance on me, and I was too stupid to see what I had in front of me. She

finally came to her senses and made the right decision—to get away from me.” He
laughed bitterly, the emotion behind the sound not quite reaching his eyes. “Look, I’m the
worst bet when it comes to relationships. I have no idea what I’m doing, but she was
willing to take a chance I’d get it right. I made a promise I didn’t keep, and I let her
down. She weighed the odds and decided to cut bait before I really screwed up. So, when
everyone reports on this tomorrow, make sure you get that straight. I screwed this up.
Not Piper.”

Scott sat back in his seat, a wry grin on his face. “Sounds like she could write you two a

happy ending if she wanted.”

Mick slowly shook his head. “That only happens in books and movies.”
The segment closed out with publicity stills and Scott’s narration about Mick’s new Dark

movie premiere, which was set for the day after tomorrow. Chris grabbed the remote and
turned off the TV, the sudden silence punctuated by the faint sounds of New York City
traffic.

“Oh shit.” Piper leaned her head in her hands as she sorted through her emotions.
“What’s going on in that noggin of yours?” Chris asked.
“I don’t know.” Piper fell back onto the cushions, staring up at the wood molding

arranged in a pattern across the ceiling. “He didn’t have to do that for me.”

“No. He didn’t.” Chris leaned back next to her on the sofa, his position mirroring her

own. “I know I was ready to clock him when he showed up here two weeks ago, but
everything turned out the way he said. He filed the lawsuit this morning, and I got a look
at the documents. It’s all there. Lewis, the photographer, Tanya—all of it down to the last
detail.”

“So what do I do?”
“Well, I’d fly to California and jump the man. He looked hot in that interview.”
“Chris—”
He scooped up her hand, dwarfing it his own and giving it a squeeze. “I don’t know.

You guys still have the same issues—distance, crazy schedules, and his hordes of fans—
but I think you could get over that if…”

“If I wanted him enough to take the plunge and trust him.”
“No. I don’t think it has anything to do with wanting him. I think you need to trust

yourself. Let the past stay in the past,” Chris said.

“That sounds so easy. But it isn’t. Mick could…”
“He could hurt you. You could hurt him. Six months from now you could decide it’s too

hard, he could develop a fear of flying or discover what a slob you are.” Chris smiled,
rolling his eyes when she pinched him for being a smartass. “But that’s just the chance
you have to take, or you could miss out.”

Piper knew he was right. There were no guarantees, and she sure as hell couldn’t feel

any worse than she had the past two weeks. Two weeks of missing out on Mick. Two
weeks where he was busy making sure he could find out what truly happened. Two
weeks that ended with him using an interview that would be watched by millions to set
the record straight—for her.

Every time they’d hit a snag, he’d been the one to stay in the game and fight for them.

She’d caved at the first sign of trouble—it was instinct now, and she reacted at the first
whiff of pain. But he’d stuck it out, fighting to the end because he thought she was worth
it.

“I’m scared,” she whispered.
“I know. That just means it’s something worth taking a chance on.” He nudged her with

his elbow. “The best stuff always is.”

Mick was the best stuff.
Loving Mick was definitely worth taking a chance on.
“So, did you decide what you’re going to do?” Chris asked.
She wouldn’t let the heroine in her book get what she wanted without making a leap of

faith. It was time she did the same.

“I need to get a flight to California.” She stood, her legs a little wobbly, but it was from

excitement and not fear this time. “It’s my turn to make the big gesture.”

Chapter Twenty-two

Mick stood on the red carpet, the camera flashes going off all around him and the
seemingly endless crowd of fans screaming his name. He waved, smiled, signed
autographs, and posed for photos. It was something he’d done hundreds of times before,
but this time the wave of excitement didn’t pick him up and carry him along. His legs
were as heavy as if he were wearing a pair of concrete shoes on the beach.

This was his big night. The LA premiere of the latest John Dark movie—the film that

had garnered incredible reviews and already promised to be the most lucrative one to
date. He’d even learned that morning that the studio was thrilled with his performance in
Regan’s Gift. He should’ve been on top of the world, but all he could think about was
what this evening lacked.

No Piper. No red dress. No stepping out for the first time as an official couple.
“Mick!” Scott Crews waved him over, and he headed to where the interviewer stood

with a microphone and his film crew. Time to get to work.

“Hi, Scott. You look lovely tonight,” he joked as they shook hands.
“Thanks, Mick. Your fans were so excited to hear this will not be the last Dark film. Do

you think this is the best one yet?”

“You know, I do. The stunts are amazing. The plot has tons of twists and turns to keep

the viewer on the edge of your seat to the very end. It was fun to make and a blast to
watch.”

“Your costar, Tanya Roberts, isn’t here tonight. Did you have anything to do with that?”
He’d known this would come up and was now glad he’d rehearsed the perfect answer.

“Tanya and I decided we didn’t want our personal stuff to overshadow the LA premiere,
so she opted to stay home. But I’ll see her in a couple of weeks in Toronto. It’s all good.”

Scott nodded, his smile widening, and the white light bouncing off his teeth warned

Mick that the next question was going to be the ringer. “Fair enough. The fans are all
wondering if Piper James will be here with you tonight.”

“No. That’s all over. Piper is in New York, getting on with her life.” He made sure his

smile was even bigger to cover up the slice of pain shooting through his chest.

“I guess we hoped you guys would get back together after our interview.”
Mick opened his mouth to offer some witty retort that didn’t include “mind your own

fucking business,” when the crowd just over his shoulder near the drop-off point for the
limousines started screaming with renewed fervor and excitement. Film crews craned
their necks to see what was going on, and after a few seconds, many of them swiveled to
include him in their shot. All along the walkway people parted like the Red Sea.

Mick walked forward two paces, Scott following close at his elbow. He edged around a

couple of people and saw what was causing all of the commotion.

“Holy shit,” Scott murmured.
He couldn’t have agreed more.
Piper stood on the red carpet looking a little overwhelmed but all kinds of gorgeous in

the red Keiko dress. His dress.

Their dress.
Her hair was pulled up in a loose hairstyle that left lots of it curling down and around

her shoulders, highlighting the creamy expanse of skin on her shoulders.

Mick fought the urge to sink to his knees under the weight of the shock and confusion.

What did this mean? He knew what he wanted it to be, knew what his heart was
screaming for as it beat hard enough to leap out of his chest. He gulped for air, steadying
himself as he walked the dozen steps to stand in front of her.

“Nice dress.” He had to lean in close to make sure she heard him over the crowd and

caught the citrus scent that was unique to his Piper.

“This old thing?” She reached down to make the skirt swish back and forth. “I had it in

my closet just waiting for the right place to wear it.”

He laughed, the joy at just being this close to her escaping from him and making her

smile wider in return. They must have looked like a couple of idiots to the million
cameras turned on them right now, but he didn’t care. As long as she was looking at him
like that—love and desire warring for dominance in her eyes—they could film whatever
the hell they wanted.

“Piper, what are you doing here?”
Her smile faltered a little, lips trembling slightly as she took a deep breath. Did she

really think he wasn’t glad to see her?

“I’m making the big gesture—breaking the rules—just like you taught me.” She lifted a

hand to touch him but pulled it back. “Am I too late, baby?”

Mick stepped even closer, his body now brushing against hers as he snagged the

hesitant hand and held it to his chest. “Too late for what?”

“For us. Am I too late to ask for another chance?”
“A second chance.”
“What?” Her nose scrunched in that adorable way he loved and he gave in to the urge

to kiss the tip.

“Technically, it’s your second chance, since you kind of broke up with me over the

phone that time.” He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her tight as she wove her
arms around his neck. “But who’s counting? I think I’d give you a million chances.”

She sobered a little, her eyes muddying with regret. “I’m sorr—”
He shut her up with a kiss. She hadn’t hurt him on purpose. He didn’t need an apology.

At this moment, all he needed was her mouth. She opened to him and he dove in, tasting

her, possessing her, and saying without words that she never needed to apologize again.
They broke apart, breathless but laughing.

“I love you, Mick,” she murmured against his lips in a tender kiss.
“I love you, too.” He touched her forehead with his own, letting his fingers skim down

the exposed skin on her shoulder and arm until he could weave them with her own.
“Don’t ever do that to me again. I almost gave up on you.”

“Never again. I promise.”
The sound of applause, catcalls, and wolf whistles drew them out of their own little

world. Mick looked around—even the most jaded journalists were smiling and offering up
their congratulations. It was all very touching, but he didn’t want to be in the middle of a
crowd any longer.

“Wave at the nice people and then head over to the limo still parked at the curb,” he

said, his lips brushing her earlobe with a kiss.

“What?” She waved as he instructed but looked up at him in confusion. “Don’t you have

a movie to watch?”

“I saw it already. Now, follow me on the count of three. One. Two. Three.” He grasped

her hand in his, making a beeline for the back of the limousine. Opening the door, he was
relieved to find it unoccupied. He maneuvered Piper inside and closed the door behind
them.

She moved first, hiking her dress up to allow her to straddle his lap. Mick gripped her

hips, trailing his hands upward to sweep over the exposed skin of her back as she
initiated the kiss. It wasn’t a tentative get-to-know-you-again kiss. This melding of their
mouths was as if they’d never been apart, and Piper was demanding in her touch.

A voice over the internal intercom, disembodied and deep, sliced through the silence

and broke them apart.

“Mr. Blackwell, where would you like to go?”
“Back to the hotel.” Mick ran his tongue along the tender outer shell of her ear, doing it

again when she shivered. “And take your time.”

“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t we have to go to the premiere?” Piper asked as she arched her neck, inviting

him to continue to kissing her.

“We’ve got a least two hours before the viewing is done. Plenty of time to go to my

hotel and then hit the after-party later.”

Piper stilled, pulling back to look down at him. His heart ached because of the sadness

in her eyes. He reached up to smooth away the lines of worry, but she shook him off.

“Piper, don’t—”
“Mick, let me.” She traced a finger over his lips, her eyes searching his own for

something. When she found it, her own mouth lifted in a smile. “You didn’t screw up,

baby. You get it right all the time.”

“Give me enough time and I’ll fuck it up plenty.” He tightened his grip on her, cupping

her face so that she couldn’t look away. “We’re in this together. You and me, okay?”

“Okay.”
“Now, by my calculation, we’re down to an hour and forty-five minutes before we need

to make a reappearance. All this apologizing is getting in the way of some awesome
make-up sex.”

He claimed her mouth in a kiss that was dominating, full of the pent-up sexual heat

that had simmered between them since they met and threatened to boil over every time
they touched. He had no reason to hold back now. She was here. She was his again, and
nothing was going to steal this moment from them. Suddenly ravenous for her, he
plunged his hands into her hair, holding her still while he reclaimed possession of her
mouth.

Piper whimpered, the sound rising in her. He gently traced a hand down the silky strap

of her dress and drifted lower to cover her breast. Hell yes. She shivered against his
caress, her nipple tightening against his palm as this exploration went from needy to
voracious in a second.

Mick had intended for this to be an appetizer to the lovemaking he would serve up once

they reached his private suite, but Piper had other ideas. He bucked upward when she
cupped his erection, giving his aching length a squeeze and a stroke through the thin silk
of his tuxedo pants. He could feel the heat of her against his skin, even through the
fabric, and the need for her touch was overwhelming.

“Mick. I need you inside me. Don’t make me wait.” Piper’s breath was hot against his

fevered skin, her soft lips skimming along his ear as she made quick work of opening his
pants. When she spoke the sexy pout in her voice almost made him come. “Oh, I hate it
when you wear underwear.”

He licked his lips, clearing his throat with another groan when she wrapped her slender

fingers around his cock. “Special occasion. Commando seemed a little casual.”

Ghosting his fingers along the hem of her dress, he pulled it up as he traveled to the

place where he needed to touch her the most. He watched her face as he made his
journey; the sight of her eyes dilated almost to black and the way she bit her bottom lip
in anticipation of his touch made him want to draw this out—but even he had his limits
when it came to this woman. At the apex of her legs, he found her hot and wet, covered
by the skimpiest bit of silk he’d ever touched. It took no effort to break the flimsy straps
holding it in place, Piper’s gasp her only reaction.

She was beautiful with her hair tumbling over her shoulders, her lips wet and swollen,

her dress rucked up. She was everything he could ever want—all he would ever need.

When she looked down at him, her smile tender and full of joy, he forgot how to

breathe.

Yes, it was cliché and sappy, but in that moment he realized his world could narrow

down to one person.

He shifted, looking for his wallet, then found a condom and sheathed himself quickly.

As if she read his mind, Piper lowered herself down on him, and the world fell away as
they joined as one body. Mick didn’t know where she began and he ended, and it was the
most right thing he’d ever felt. The slide of flesh against flesh, hot breath mingling with
wet tongues and sharp teeth was all he knew. Premieres, publishers, and fans all fell
away as he lost himself in this moment with her.

Piper reached up, unhooking the latch on her halter strap to let the fabric slide down in

a swoosh of silk. And then she removed her glasses, trailing one of the earpieces across
her lips and in the lush valley between her breast before tossing them to the side. Her
wicked smile told him she knew how much he loved it when she played off his “naughty
librarian” fantasies, and he rewarded her with a quick thrust of his cock and a caress of
her clit with his thumb. She gasped and tightened around him, and he got his own prize.

“Piper.” Mick whispered her name against the soft skin of her breast, his tongue circling

the pink, tight bud her nipple.

Piper tightened her grip on his shoulder, fingers weaving through his hair to anchor him

in place.

“Suck on me baby.” She gasped against his neck, her hips moving faster as she covered

him with her wet heat over and over again. “If you do, I’ll come. I promise.”

Once again, she’d reached into his brain and tapped into the primal, animal side of him.

Nothing switched off his brain, disconnected the part of his mind which told him to go
slow and draw this out, like her husky voice whispering dirty nothings in his ear.

Mick circled her nipple one more time, flicking the tight bead with his tongue once

before drawing the sweet morsel into his mouth and tugging in a sensual rhythm that
matched the thrust of his hips. Piper cried out—not once, but in a steady pattern
punctuating the rhythm of their bodies. She tightened around his cock, and he knew she
was close, her moans and whimpers becoming sharper and more urgent with each
joining.

“It’s been too long,” Mick ground out between his harsh pants of air sucking into his

lungs. He was so close, but he wasn’t going without her. “I love you.”

At his words she stiffened, grinding down on him as her body rippled around his hard,

aching length. Even though he wanted to see her come apart, he closed his eyes when
the pleasure hit him like a flow of white-hot lava—surging up his spine and along his
veins until every inch of his skin was tingling with the power of his release.

Piper collapsed against him, her muscles limp and relaxed. She nestled her head

against his neck, breathing heavily in concert with him. The close quarters, the scent of

leather and sex mixing together in their own private cocoon, reminded him of their first
time together in his car.

“This has a little more room than Ali,” he observed.
“Hmm…?” Piper pushed up enough to look at him. She was stunning—hair slightly

disheveled, lips swollen, and skin flushed with her passion—she looked sated, happy, and
thoroughly fucked. Just the way he liked her.

“I was just remembering our first time together.”
“The night you seduced me into breaking the rules.”
“Hey. You were doing all the seducing.”
She raised an eyebrow at him disbelief.
“Okay…we were both doing our fair share of the seducing.” He pushed a curl off her

shoulder, caressing the exposed soft skin. “I couldn’t help myself. From the first moment,
I knew you’d be the one to make me throw out the rule book.”

“Me, too. The rules never seemed to stick when it came to the two of us,” she said.
“That’s because we had to create a new set. Totally custom, for just the two of us.”
She nodded. “I like the sound of that. Have you figured out the new rule book yet?”
“Love each other. Trust each other. Have lots of sex.”
He laughed at her eye roll and drew her in for a slow, soft kiss with just a hint of

tongue. He pulled back and looked at her, the woman who saw behind the image—the
only person he ever wanted to see that guy—and he was grateful she loved what she
saw. “I think that’s all we need.”

Epilogue

YEAR

LATER.

The Oscars were over the top.

Piper sat next to Mick in the front row of the Dolby Theater, wearing yet another gown

picked out by her lover of over a year. This one, black and full-length with a short,
sweeping train, featured a plunging sheer back with a delicate design of lace barely
covering any part of her skin. Mick made the final decision, declaring that if he lost,
everyone would be distracted from his defeat by his hot girlfriend. He’d then dismissed
the sales clerk, locked the door, and made sure they could have limo sex in the dress—
just in case the mood struck them again.

Life with Mick Blackwell was anything but ordinary.
It hadn’t been easy, either. Lives on opposite coasts had proved to be difficult and the

separation almost unbearable. Finally, two months ago, she’d packed up her apartment
and moved herself into the Spanish-style home they’d chosen together in the Hollywood
hills. She could write anywhere—her new publisher loved what she wrote—in fact, she
wrote better when she was with Mick. They hadn’t killed each over him squeezing the
toothpaste in the middle or over her subscription to People and were even now talking
about getting a dog. It was getting downright domestic in the Blackwell-James
household.

“Hey, are you checking out Matt Damon’s ass again?” Mick murmured into her ear, his

breath hot and teasing against her skin. She didn’t have to turn to know he wore the
sexy, secret grin he wore only for her. Lucky girl.

“Yep. It’s almost as nice as yours,” she murmured back to him, ducking away from the

playful nibble he attempted on her tender earlobe. “You need to behave. The cameras
have been on us all night.”

“Let them film us. All they’ll see is that I love you and I’m a winner even if I don’t take

home the golden bald dude.”

Piper looked into his eyes, checking the green-gold depths for any signs of nerves or

worry, but saw nothing except his usual mischief and love. Many had scoffed when his
name had shown up on the nomination list for Best Actor, but Mick had taken it all in
stride with his usual wit and confidence. Only in their most private moments did she see
doubt creep into his eyes as he shared his fears and worries. That Mick, her Mick,
belonged only to her, and she knew how blessed she was to know the man behind the
image.

“I’m proud of you,” she whispered. “Your production company, the new projects, and

your new Dark movie. You’ve worked so hard. You deserve to be here tonight. No matter

how it turns out.”

“I—” Mick began, but his words were cut off by co-hosts returning to the stage.
“And now…the nominees for Best Actor.”
Piper clutched Mick’s hand, returning his excited grin when he glanced at her before

returning his attention to the stage. He was the epitome of Hollywood royalty, dressed in
a custom-made tux and graciously acknowledging the well-wishes from the people seated
around them when his name was read along with the other nominees.

The envelope was opened. A hush fell over the crowd and silence hung like LA smog,

thick and impermeable. Piper felt sick and overheated, her blood pounding and her palms
growing damp with anticipation.

“And the winner is…Mick Blackwell, for Regan’s Gift.”
The next few moments were a blur. Mick bowing his head briefly before standing and

pulling her to him in a tight embrace, a murmured, “I love you” breathed against her ear
before he headed for the stage, tugging her along with him.

“Come on. I need you with me,” Mick shouted over the clapping, and she could do

nothing but follow him to the stage, under the glaring lights and surrounded by all those
glittering people. He accepted the statuette, thanked his presenter, and stood before the
microphone.

“Now, you all know I never do anything but the way I want to, and tonight is no

different, so you’ll have to bear with me.” Mick pointed a finger at the orchestra
conductor. “And go ahead and shut off your timer, because this is going to take a few
more minutes than usual.”

He flashed his usual sexy grin, the one that convinced everyone to do whatever he

wanted, and laughed when the conductor threw his hands in the air in agreement and the
crowd clapped in approval. Piper couldn’t believe it—even the Oscar committee and its
employees were putty in his hands.

“I know you’re supposed to thank all these people when you win an Oscar. I have one

of those speeches prepared, I swear to God, but it’ll have to wait because the person I
need to thank the most is right here beside me.” He glanced her way, his smile wicked
and so very sweet. “And I bet she wants to kill me right now for dragging her up here, so
I’ll get right to the point.”

He placed the statuette on the little podium and turned to face her, his expression

suddenly serious and tender. Piper could feel her emotions building and rising with the
burn of the tears in her eyes. She was really glad her eye makeup was waterproof
because he was going to make her cry on a nationally televised program. Bastard.

“Piper, you’re a terrible acting coach…” His comment was punctuated by low laughter

from the audience. “But you’re a genius with words. You have an amazing heart, you’re
so smart and strong. You kick my ass when I get out of line, you’ve got my back against

the world, and those glasses still turn me on like nothing else.”

More laugher skittered through the crowd, then quickly dissipated.
“I love you. And by that I mean you are the only damn thing in my life that ever made

sense, and I want to keep it that way.”

Mick reached into his pocket, pulling out a little blue box—Tiffany’s blue—and the full

impact of what he was doing began to sink into her overloaded brain. He lowered himself
to one knee, and her first inclination was to follow him to the ground because she sure as
hell couldn’t feel her legs any longer. Luckily the audience had gone silent because she
could barely make out what he was saying over the adrenaline rushing through her
system.

“I’m not the writer, so I’ll keep this simple. I love you. Marry me. Please.” He opened

the box and pulled out a ring. It was beautiful, sparkling like fire under stage lights, and
looked like it was the size of a small car. But Mick was what grabbed her attention. His
expression was open, as vulnerable as a child. This wasn’t the actor playing a part or the
shrewd businessman seeking out publicity to make sure he trended higher—this was just
Mick, her Mick. The man who loved her and had just declared it to the whole damn world.

She’d written millions of words, but only one came to mind at the moment.
Sometimes one word was enough.
“Yes.”
Mick’s grin took up his whole face as he slipped on the ring, stood, and pulled her into

his arms. Their kiss was hot, wet, and with lots of tongue—completely inappropriate for
television—but she didn’t care. Piper poured everything into that kiss, and Mick answered
her with his own passion. God, she loved this man. It was like living in a damn movie…or
a romance novel.

Breaking off the kiss, Piper acknowledged the crowd who were now on their feet

clapping loudly to the backdrop of the orchestra playing a rousing version of the
“Wedding March.” Still in a daze, she let him lead her off the stage, following a woman
with a clipboard and a headset into a small green room.

“Five minutes, Mr. Blackwell. I’ll need you in the press room after that.” The woman

gave them both a smile before moving to close the door. “And…congratulations.”

They turned to each other then, this kiss softer, sweeter. Between them, every touch of

their lips, whether they were in “can’t get your clothes off fast enough” mode or on a lazy
Sunday morning with nowhere to go, was a total possession of each other.

“I love you,” she said, cherishing the way his eyes lit up when she said those words.
“You’re not mad?” Mick traced her cheek with his fingertips, and she shivered at the

touch.

“No. I shouldn’t expect anything less from you. You never follow anyone’s rules but your

own, do you?”

“Something you can get used to?”
“Yes.” She kissed the side of his mouth.
“Something you can live with?”
Piper leaned back, looking into Mick’s eyes—imperfect, stubborn, sexy, and hers. All

hers.

“For the rest of my life.”

Acknowledgments

A huge thank you to my editor Alethea Spiridon Hopson for being so wonderful to me. I
don’t know how I got so lucky.

Thank you to Rochelle French for working so tirelessly on this book. You are the bomb.
Thanks to Kimberly Kincaid, Avery Flynn, and Emmie Dark for putting up with my crazy

writing life. I couldn’t ask for a better bunch of talented, smart, and fabulous women to
have for critique partners.

I want to thank Heather Howland for an amazing cover—love it!
Kisses and hugs to the Main Man, Little Man, and Lulu. I couldn’t do this without your

love and support. Thanks for letting me disappear into the writing cave and pursue my
passion.

And my readers…you guys make it all worthwhile. Thank you for reading my stories and

letting me know when they touch you. I work hard every day to never let you down.

About the Author

Robin Covington, labeled an “auto-buy author” by New York Times bestselling authors
Robyn Carr and Carly Phillips, writes sizzling hot contemporary and paranormal romance.
When she’s not exploring the themes of fooling around and falling in love, she’s collecting
tasty man candy, indulging in a little comic book geek love, and stalking Joe Mangianello.

Robin is a member of the Romance Writers of America, the Washington Romance

Writers, a faculty member at Romance University, a member of the Waterworld
Mermaids, and a contributor to the Happy Ever After blog at USA TODAY. You can find
Robin on her

website

Facebook

, and

Twitter

Robin lives in Maryland with her hilarious husband, brilliant children, and ginormous

puppy.

Robin

loves

hear

from

her

readers.

You

can

contact

her

robin@robincovingtonromance.com

Unleash your inner vixen with these sexy bestselling

Brazen releases…

Wilde Nights in Paradise

by Tonya Burrows

Former Force Recon marine Jude Wilde’s motto has always been “burn bridges and never
look back.” But when Wilde Security is hired to protect district attorney Libby Pruitt, the
woman he loved and left, Jude can’t ignore the heat simmering between them. Only, with
her life on the line, can he win back her heart?

Officer Off Limits

Tessa Bailey

Playboy hostage negotiator Daniel Chase has never, not once, been refused by a woman,
so when a debate over hospital snack foods with a delectable kindergarten teacher ends
in flat-out rejection, he makes it his mission to seduce her. His only obstacle? She’s the
daughter of his mentor who implicitly forbade Daniel from pursuing her.

No Strings Attached

Nicolette Day

Jace Jennings has a problem. His best friend isn’t just leaving the country, she’s risking
he r life—just when he’s realized he’s in love with her. When fate traps them in the
storage room of his bar, Jace offers Hayden the one thing she wants: a night of hot sex,
no strings attached. But when the night is over, will Jace be able to let her go?

Rules of Entanglement

by Gina L. Maxwell

Pretending to be engaged to Vanessa MacGregor isn’t so bad. But while acting like they’re
in love in public is doable, once they’re inside and heating up the sheets, the line
between pretend and reality begins to blur. Especially when Jax is presented with the
ultimate challenge—Vanessa has seven rules that dictate her future, and he only has
seven days to make her break them if he wants to be in it.

Recipe for Satisfaction

Gina Gordon

Famous bad boy restaurateur Jack Vaughn is trying to find his way back to the living
when he meets the beautiful Sterling Andrews, a professional organizer hell-bent on
seducing the tattooed hottie as part of her fresh take on life. Too bad she’s Jack’s newest
employee, and totally off-limits.

Down and Dirty

Christine Bell

When she’s dared to rekindle an old flame, self-professed infatuation junky Cat Thomas
knows she’s screwed. She’s never been able to resist her brother’s sexy best friend, so
after one hot night together she does what any sane woman would do—sets him up on a
dating site before she does something stupid. Like fall in love with him again.

Document Outline

Other books by Robin Covington
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Unleash your inner vixen with these sexy bestselling Brazen releases…

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