Hollywood Love: Book 2: A sexy celebrity romance (Hollywood Billionaires) Page 5

  “That’s okay. I’ll read you the press release. Keatyn Douglas and her longtime beau Aiden Arrington, owner of Asher Vineyards and Winery, the brand best known for their charitable Moon Wish wine, were engaged in Paris after the worldwide premiere of the hit trilogy, The Keatyn Chronicles, based on their life.

  “It’s pretty simple and to the point,” she says. “I do like that you threw in the part about Moon Wish. A little extra publicity is a good thing.”

  “Do you want me to add more details about your engagement? Usually, you’re pretty private when it comes to your personal life.”

  “I know. I want to leave it the way your have it, but I’m so excited I’d like to shout it from the rooftops. It was so romantic and so perfect.”

  “Everything Aiden does is romantic, isn’t it?”

  She beams. “Yeah, pretty much. I’m really lucky.”

  “Are you feeling okay?”

  “Mostly, although the smell of that strong roasted coffee Riley drinks every morning makes me want to throw up.”

  “Morning sickness?”

  “More like morning gagging. I haven’t gotten sick yet. Did you see the article about Riley and Jennifer Edwards this morning?”

  “I did. I wanted to talk to you about that. Ariela and I were at the party last night. We had dates.”

  “And Riley saw?”

  “Yeah, he told her she could help plan your wedding and that when it was over he wanted her out of your lives.”

  “That’s harsh. But you know how guys are. They don’t really like to deal with their feelings.”

  “That’s for sure.”

  “But, Riley’s man whore ways may have just paid off.”

  “How so?”

  “The reason he and Jennifer left is because she wants the lead in Daddy’s Angel.”

  “Are you shitting me? That would be amazing!”

  “I know, right? She was who I thought of when I was writing the script.”

  “That’s so cool.”

  “I have some other news. We hired a new Senior Vice President. The two of you will be working closely together. I got Riley to okay your firm doing the publicity for Daddy’s Angel. You have done well with Riley’s PR. This is the next step. If this is a hit, you’ll get all you can handle.”

  “Really? That’s amazing. Who is the new VP?”

  “He’s right here,” Tyler says from behind me. I stand up and turn around. “Vanessa Flanning meet—”

  “Dawson Johnson,” I say, finishing his sentence.

  “You two know each other? Perfect. I can stop playing tour guide and get my work done. Dawson, I’m leaving you in Vanessa’s capable hands.”

  I stare into the eyes of the boy I met at Keatyn’s eighteenth birthday party. His dark brown eyes lock with mine, reaching inside my soul and grabbing something deep inside me and pulling it to the surface.

  I have two simultaneous desires. I want to both comfort him and screw his brains out. And I have no idea why.

  The comforting part, I mean.

  It’s obvious why I would want to screw this man.

  Dawson leans in and gives me a sweet kiss on the cheek. “The Alpha of all Alphas. How are you? You look amazing.”

  Amazing doesn’t begin to describe how scrumptious Dawson looks. He’s matured, obviously, in all the right places. His shoulders are broader. His neck is thicker. I can’t see what’s under his perfectly tailored navy pinstripe suit, but based on the way his jacket tapers in at the waist, I’m guessing it’s good. His dark, thick hair is cut short and he’s a walking advertisement on the perfect amount of scruff. He and Riley look a lot alike, but Dawson is bulkier, his face fuller, and his shoulders even broader.

  “Thank you,” I finally say, tearing my eyes away from his. “Long time no see.”

  Oh, for god’s sake, I sound like a teenager at the mall.

  Maybe because that’s what I feel like.

  “Awww!” Keatyn says. “Everyone loved the lines you said in the movie! Vanessa, do you remember what you said to Dawson at my birthday party after I introduced you?”

  “I haven’t seen the movie yet,” Dawson admits, “But I do remember. Keatyn said, This is Dawson Johnson, he’s headed to NYU this fall and plans to major in luxury marketing.” He looks deeply into my eyes again. “Do you remember what you said back?”

  “We have a lot in common, then, because I plan to major in luxury spending.”

  Dawson smiles broadly and laughs. “Then you invited me to Tommy’s office for a glass of scotch. That was fun.”

  “And here you both are now,” Keatyn claps. “Working for Captive on just that. I have to get going. Vanessa, I was wondering if you might be able to spend the day with Dawson. Talk shop. Get him up to speed on your current projects and impress him with your plans for our future, especially Daddy’s Angel.”

  “I’d appreciate that, Vanessa,” sexy Dawson agrees. “I’ve already gotten the tour of the place, but Keatyn was a little vague as to what I’d be doing on a day-to-day basis.”

  I know what I’d like to be doing with him on a day-to-day basis.

  But, somehow, I doubt that’s what Keatyn had in mind.

  Captive Films - Santa Monica

  DAWSON

  It’s be a while since I felt anything for a girl.

  Make that a woman.

  Vanessa may have been a girl when I met her, but now she’s all woman. She still has the confidence and poise I remember, but her smile is tinged with something I see in my own.

  Sadness.

  When we were teenagers, everything seemed so simple. So hopeful.

  You’re hot. Let’s hookup.

  Sadly, that’s still the only pick up line I know.

  It’s really hard to concentrate on what she’s telling me. She’s giving me an overview of projects Captive Films is working on. She’s discussing target audiences for each. All stuff I understand well.

  Except I find myself just staring at her lips.

  Lips I kissed on a night that feels like it was a lifetime ago.

  I’ve been feeling old since Whitney left but sitting here today, looking at her lips, I feel young again.

  “I’m staring at your lips,” I tell her.

  She immediately brings her hand up to her lips, like she has something on them. “Why?”

  “They’re exactly as I remember them. Full. Lush. Perfect. And you still wear the same color lipstick.”

  She smiles. “It’s funny, I just started wearing red lipstick again. I wore it back then because it made me feel confident. I guess that’s why I’ve been wearing it lately.”

  “Why in the world would you need help feeling confident?”

  She looks at her watch. A beautiful diamond encrusted one. The kind a man who has both money and taste would have bought her.

  I look at her left hand. No wedding ring has appeared since the last time I checked ten minutes ago.

  How is it that she’s not married?

  “It’s nearly lunch,” she says. “I’m going to need a martini if we’re going to get personal.”

  “A drink sounds good to me.”

  Captive Films - Santa Monica

  VANESSA

  “Do you have a car or would you like me to drive?” I ask him as we head outside.

  “I have no idea where to go, but I’d love to drive.” He points toward a gorgeous new red Ferrari.

  I try not to cringe at his choice of cars. My ex, Bam, had a thing for Ferraris. He even had their prancing horse symbol tattooed on his chest. “You like Ferraris, I see,” I say, trying not to choke on the word.

  “Don’t tell Keatyn, but it’s not really me.”

  “It’s not?”

  “It’s a little flashy, don’t you think?”

  I laugh as he opens the door for me. “Yeah, just a little.”

  As he joins me in the car, he’s still talking. “But, I will admit, she’s fun to drive. And listen to this engine purr. Maybe if I ever get one for m
yself, I’ll get it in silver. This looks more like Riley. Have you ever seen his neon green Viper?”

  “I have. And out of all the cars he has, that’s still his baby. It was his 18th birthday present, right?”

  “Yep. That’s a tradition in the Johnson family. All the men get together and choose your first car.”

  “What’d you get?”

  “A modified silver BMW,” he says, which makes me like him even more. “So where are we going?”

  “It’s a gorgeous day. I think we should have lunch and drinks poolside at Chateau Marmont.”

  “I’ve heard of that place. Isn’t it a hotel where lots of famous people stay?”

  “Yeah, the history of the place is pretty great. And don’t be alarmed when we get there, but I’ll have to check us into a room.”

  There’s an amused look on his face and I wish I knew what he was thinking. Probably that I want him.

  Which, let’s be honest, I do.

  “A room?”

  “Yes, a poolside bungalow. So that we can enjoy lunch and drinks poolside.”

  “Oh, I get it. You can’t use the pool without a room.”

  “Exactly.”

  He drives to the hotel and when we get there he says he’ll check us in.

  Knowing what a suite costs, I balk. “Oh, I’ll do it.”

  “Absolutely not,” he says, as he takes my hand to help me out of the car.

  When I stand up, we’re face to face and he’s staring at my mouth again.

  “I changed my mind,” he says. “This car matches the color of your lipstick. That alone might be reason enough to love it.”

  My mouth goes dry, my knees feel weak.

  He totally made me swoon.

  When’s the last time a man made me swoon with his words and not his wallet?

  I smile, I can’t help it.

  Plus, I don’t know how to respond.

  And I always have a quick comeback for everything.

  Once we’re checked into our suite, I open the doors to the outside.

  He stands close behind me, looking out at the view.

  “I have to say,” he says, “I thought a lot about what my first day would be like. I never imagined this.”

  When I turn around to reply, my chest grazes across his suit.

  Even in my heels, I have to look up at him.

  Our eyes lock and we share a moment. That perfect moment right before a kiss. I tilt my chin ever so slightly upward, giving him permission.

  A flash of sadness washes across his eyes and he backs away from me.

  In that moment, I vow to discover the reason for his sadness.

  And make it go away.

  “Too bad we don’t have swimsuits with us,” he says. “The pool looks amazing.”

  “I can fix that. Let me make a quick call. Why don’t you go out and order us drinks.”

  “Were you serious about a martini?”

  “Yes, please. And, just so you know, I like it dirty.”

  Dawson swallows—no, he gulps—when I say I like it dirty. And I realize that may have sounded a bit suggestive.

  He narrows his eyes. “You’re talking about the martini, right?”

  “Yes, of course,” I say.

  “Okay. One dirty martini coming up.”

  “Wait! You can’t go out like that.”

  He looks down at himself. “Like, what?

  “In your suit. May I?”

  He nods, so I help him take his jacket off, fold it in half, and lay it over the back of a grey velvet lounge chair. Then I unbutton his shirtsleeves and roll them up.

  “And this tie has to go.” I loosen it, remove it from around his neck, and then unbutton the first two buttons of his soft cotton dress shirt. As I’m unbuttoning his shirt, I notice that he gulps again. I’m making him uncomfortable.

  Which is not the reaction I’m used to.

  I place my hands on his rock hard chest and playfully push him away to ease his tension. “Much better, now you can go.”

  He gives me a shy smile and heads out the door.

  I immediately call my butler and ask him to bring me an overnight bag with a few essentials, including a new red bikini for me and swim trunks for him.

  I peek outside, making sure Dawson is where I can see him, and call Captive Films.

  “Tyler,” I say quietly when he answers. “I need the scoop on Dawson Johnson.”

  “He is a fine looking man. You on the prowl for that? Meooowww.”

  “No, I’m not on the prowl. I’m not even interested in that,” I lie. “Keatyn wants us to work closely together on some projects, and I just wanted to know his story.”

  “His story, why Ms. Flanning, if you’re working closely with him, you should ask him yourself.”

  “Tyler, stop playing with me. Is he married?”

  “No, he is not. And that’s all I know.” But then he lowers his voice. “I can tell you what was on his resume. He’s had high profile positions in numerous designer companies, but he hasn’t worked in the last two years. I thought that was a little strange.”

  “Interesting. Thanks, Tyler.”

  I hang up, slide out of my heels, take off my suit jacket and join Dawson at a shaded table by the pool just as our drinks arrive.

  “To new beginnings,” I say, carefully clinking my full martini glass with his.

  “To new beginnings,” he repeats. “So, back to the question that brought us here. Why does someone like you need confidence? Your confidence was one of the first things I noticed about you. You were almost cocky.”

  “Oh, come on, I wasn’t that bad.”

  “I never thought it was bad. I liked it.” He smiles at me again. “And your taste in scotch.”

  I laugh. “I did think I was the shit in high school.”

  “So what happened after that?”

  “I graduated, went to college, then law school. I was secretly married at nineteen to a guy I had known since we were young.”

  “Secretly married?”

  “Yeah, our parents would not have approved, but we didn’t care. Bam was . . .”

  “Bam? That was his name? Like on the Flintstones, Bam Bam? I can’t picture you with a Bam Bam.”

  I laugh, picturing Bam in a loincloth during the Stone Age. No fast cars. No servants. He wouldn’t have survived. If ever there was a boy who grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth, it was Bam.

  “Juan Fabio Martinez is his real name. He’s a professional polo player from Argentina. His family’s quite wealthy and he grew up with the best of everything. I met him when I was fifteen at a weekend party on his yacht. We hooked up for the first time that weekend and whenever he was in town. By the time I was nineteen, we were crazy in love and got married on a whim. Afterwards, he freaked out because his mother would’ve been crushed he didn’t get married in the church. We never told anyone we were married, but we lived together while I went to college and when I graduated law school, we did it up big. Proposal in front of his family. Married in the church he grew up in. Three lavish receptions in three different countries. An amazing three week honeymoon.”

  “Sounds nice. What happened?”

  “The short answer is he cheated on me. I’m not sure if it was often. He traveled a lot and I worked.”

  “Did you need to work?”

  “No, but I wanted to. I didn’t spend all those years getting through school just to be a polo player’s wife. I suppose that should have been enough, but I wanted more. For me.”

  Dawson’s eyes smile at me.

  Yeah, I meant that. Not only does his mouth smile but his eyes too. They have such warmth and depth.

  I could get lost in them.

  “What about you?” I ask.

  “I took it pretty hard when my wife, uh, left.”

  “When was that?”

  “Two years ago,” he says. I realize that’s when he quit working. He must have taken it really hard.

  Is that why Keatyn is going so overb
oard with him?

  Does he have a drinking problem? Drugs? Is he mentally unstable?

  I notice that half his drink is left, while mine is completely gone. I was sucking it down while telling him about Bam.

  Probably not an alcoholic.

  “How long were you married?”

  “Whitney and I were married for eight years.”

  “Did you get married while you were still in college?”

  “Yeah, we did.”

  “Is there anything else you want to tell me?” I ask, hoping he’ll just spill the story instead of me having to pry it out of him. He’s barely answering my questions.

  “No, I don’t think so. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

  Working with me? Shit. Here I am flirting with him and he wants to work with me.

  But if he’s not interested, why the comment about my lips?

  Maybe his wife leaving is a touchy subject and I should stop babbling on about it.

  “So what do you hope to do at Captive?”

  “Mostly, make an impact. Keatyn is a good friend and I don’t want to let her down.”

  “Just how well do you know her?”

  “We dated briefly in high school. Have been friends ever since. She’s a good friend.”

  “When I found out Bam was cheating on me, I went through a lot. My business suffered. I lost most of my clients. Keatyn stuck by me. Shit, speaking of that, I need to get her press release out. And our swimwear should be here by now. Why don’t you order another round of drinks and bring them inside.”

  I quickly send out the press release about Keatyn and Aiden’s engagement and follow it up with a few well-placed phone calls.

  My bikini has arrived along with a sinful black dress for tonight and matching slinky undergarments.

  You know, just in case.

  I change into my bikini and as I come out of the bathroom, he’s just coming back inside with our drinks.

  He stops in his track and stares at me. His gaze feels like fire as it feasts on my skin.

  My insides react. I’m ready to throw this man on the bed and have my way with him. And I can’t for the life of me figure out what’s stopping me from doing just that.