Perfectly Scripted (3 page)

As I leaned over him, he wrapped his long fingers around the back of my head and pulled my face to his to press a soft kiss to my lips. While I was not one to be a hopeless romantic or addicted to love, let alone love at first sight, there I stood, blissfully and humbly corrected. I had been swept off my feet by a wonderful man I loved—a crazy, whirlwind romance. It felt good to be crazy. And a little wild. Ronan made me feel reckless, but not in a dangerous way. More uninhibited, impulsive.

It was a freeing feeling to see shades of my former self again.

Being with him had given me the ability to face my inner struggles and pain and start living again. Really, truly living. For the past two and a half years, I’d been going through the motions of life. Having a set schedule, a daily routine, helped keep me on track to healing, but now was the time to push past the fear and let it go.

Letting the fear go was a lot like the summer I spent attempting to dive off the high rise at swim camp. Every day, I’d climb up the ladder, counting each step as I went. I’d slowly walk to the edge of the diving board and curl my toes over the edge, staring down at the water as my heart rate accelerated. My arms would go up towards the sky. And I would visualize the perfect dive, but then I’d look down and know I wasn’t ready.

Two weeks into the second session of camp, a new girl, Rebecca, approached me as I was about to climb the ladder. She said that she’d watched me do the same thing every day and was “so over it.” She laughed, and then we climbed the ladder together. When we reached the top, she told me that today was the day I would jump. Even if I didn’t dive, at least I knew I could leap off, and maybe I wouldn’t be so scared anymore.

With gentle coaxing, I finally leapt off the platform and into the water below. A few days later, I nailed a forward dive in the tuck position. It had just taken the right person to help me get over that hurdle.

My phone vibrated in my hand, alerting me to some news concerning the brawl he’d stumbled into with Grady James at Indigo Row before Christmas. Some hack celebrity blogger had gotten ahold of the photos and a cell phone video that showed the two of them exchanging punches underneath the bright lights of the Manhattan nightclub. News of their run-in had traveled fast, leaving Ronan’s team on twenty-four-seven damage control. Unfortunately,
The Hollywood Reporter
was the latest media outlet to have reported the story.

As soon as I finished reading the post, Ronan’s phone rang.

Taking a deep breath, he answered confidently, “Hello, Darcy.” His voice was chipper, but his body language told a different story. “I’m fantastic. Simply lying on the beach with a beautiful brunette.” He glanced in my direction, giving me that sexy gleaming movie star smile of his.

Covering the phone, he said, “I’ll be right back.”

I nodded and watched him trudge through the sand towards the swirling sea.

Darcy Sachs had been his publicist since he had landed his first major fashion ad campaign, and she’d been working her magic with his image ever since. I felt bad because he’d managed to maintain a stellar presence in the spotlight until this ugly incident. It
was
partly my fault, although he said that he’d made the choice to hit Grady, so now, he had to deal with the fallout.

Since that night, Ronan had received a wave of phone calls from his manager, his agent, and Darcy, all trying to contain the media firestorm the Grady James debacle had created.

Ronan’s ex-wife, Emma Bailey-Wilson, was one such problematic factor we had to deal with as a result of the incident. In a bullshit move, she had tried to keep their daughters, Jade and Leah, from coming to New York for Christmas, saying that he had acted irresponsibly and his actions were affecting their children negatively. She’d demanded he talk to a therapist about his rage, and until he did, he would not be seeing his daughters.

She lost that battle though, and Emma was immediately ordered to put the girls on a plane to New York with their nanny. I had yet to meet his ex-wife, but something told me that I should try to kill her with kindness to avoid any more friction.

Ronan returned to the cabana a few moments later. His lustrous curls were tousled, probably from running his hands through his hair while on the phone with Darcy.

Concerned about what might have him worked up, I asked, “What did Darcy have to say?”

“She shared some industry stuff, but mainly she told me that my image is strongly intact with the studio, the director, and my co-stars—except Heather. She’s royally pissed at me.” He sighed deeply. “I guess Grady had a photo shoot two days later. Apparently, his lip and jaw were so swollen not even makeup could help it. They had to reschedule the shoot.”

I brushed my fingertips across his warm skin. “Are you ever going to tell me what he said that set you off?”

Ronan shot me an irritated look. “No,” he replied firmly. “All you need to know is that he was out of line.”

I am such an idiot.

I’d hurt Ronan, the man who’d done nothing but offer me his love and a promise to protect me from ever being hurt again. Looking back, I had no idea what had come over me. It was as if I had been out of my damn mind to allow Grady to kiss and grind up on me for the majority of the evening. Why had I even kissed him back?

At present, Ronan’s life was spinning out of control. He had assaulted Grady because of me. Maybe, he’d wake up one day and realize I wasn’t worth the trouble. I pushed those thoughts out of my mind, focusing my attention instead on Ronan, who was brooding while he stared out at the crystal-blue water.

“Darcy suggested that we let the paparazzi take photos of us here on vacation.” He slid his sunglasses off his face, revealing his alluring, deep-green eyes—eyes so piercing that I swear he could see straight into my soul. Eyes that pleaded, “
Let’s run away together.
”

How could any hot-blooded woman have said no to this beautiful man? I couldn’t, which was precisely how I’d ended up there on the beach in Mexico.

“Darcy feels this will be a good way to divert attention from the Grady incident and send tongues wagging about the two of us. I can take the heat from the fallout, but they worry it might keep people from seeing the movie.”

Fortunately, I understood the business of Hollywood, thanks to my mother having married the head of Avalon Films. Family conversations often revolved around industry news and celebrity gossip. My college internship had been with the studio, and the movie-making business had been a passion of mine ever since.

Ronan’s latest film,
A London Love Story
, was set to release in less than two months, and it was already the biggest seller of online tickets for an R-rated movie in history. This incident with Grady and him might only fuel fire for the protestors against the much-talked-about taboo subject matter and spark claims that Ronan is exactly like the character he’s portraying.

Haters gonna hate.

For someone like Ronan, who didn’t want to play this strategic maneuvering game with the press, this was the sometimes invasive reality of the business. But the spilling of private details for a publicity stunt was beneath him and made him feel like a low-rent celebrity.

I stood up from my lounge chair and sauntered over to him, hooking my arms around his waist. Hugging him tight, I spoke softly, “Sometimes you have to do things that you don’t necessarily want to do, but you do them for the bigger picture. Whatever you need me to do, I will.”

“The last thing I ever wanted to do was have our personal life play out in front of the cameras. This means you are putting yourself out there, exposing yourself to the world. Are you sure you’re ready for that? Because I won’t do this if it means sacrificing your total privacy.”

“I think it’s unavoidable at this point, don’t you?”

I’d have been lying if I’d said that I didn’t have some reservations, but I had known what I’d been getting into with him. It came with the territory of dating someone in the public eye.

“I absolutely hate this,” he groaned.

“I know you do.” In an effort to calm him, I pressed my lips to his, kissing him. “Maybe we can control the story. Can you call one of your paparazzi buddies or give Nina the exclusive?”

“Possibly, but this is total bullshit.” He smoothed his hands up and down my back.

“It’s going to be okay, I love you.”

He leaned down, his lips at my ear. “We’re going back to our villa. I
need
you.
Now
.” He kissed me deeply, thrusting his tongue into my mouth. “Are you done with your…your monthly
lady business
?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Laughing, I nodded. “You know, I’d be more than happy to pleasure you by sucking your cock.”

His mouth curved up into a sly, sexy smile. “You’ve got a dirty mouth, my beauty.”

“I learned this salty vocabulary from you.” I playfully shoved at his shoulder. “All of those bold, graphic words you utter when we’re fucking have rubbed off on me.”

My mother would have had my head if she’d heard me speaking to a man so crudely. I was pretty sure she would have lost her shit thinking she’d wasted money by sending me to etiquette classes. However, Helen Prescott Chambers would have been more appalled if she had known about my previous involvement with Derek Saunders.

What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

“Enough of this fucking chitchat. I want you spread beneath me.
Now
.” He gripped my waist tighter, whispering in my ear, “You’re so beautiful. I want your sweet cunt wrapped around my cock. I want you calling my name because I made you come.”

“Promises, promises, Mr. Connolly. You’d better deliver an epic orgasm. I
need
one,” I purred.

“Watch your tongue, Miss Prescott.” He tucked his finger under my chin and brought my face up to meet his. “I’m tempted to take you into the nearest
bathroom
and fuck the sarcasm out of you.”

Jesus, what a delicious memory that brings up.

Unable to keep our hands off one another, we made it back to our room. He tossed my bag on the credenza, knocking over a clay vase. Then he scooped me up in his arms, wedging me between a large bamboo plant and a colorful wall tapestry. His lips were on mine in mere seconds before he slid his tongue into my mouth, tasting me. Moaning into his kisses, I surrendered to whatever he had planned.

“Holliday,” he hissed. “Do you have any idea what you do to me? The sounds you make when I’m pleasing you…” He sucked in a deep breath.

Oh, how I know
. My body hummed with the same rapidly burning energy.

Once I’d eased down his strong frame, the pads of my bare feet hit the cool tile floor, which sent a shiver up my spine. Ronan pinned me against the wall, caging my body and holding me hostage for his lustful amusement. Drawing my arms above my head with one hand, firmly clutching my wrists, he took his other hand and shoved it between my legs. He stroked me back and forth, all the while feathering kisses across my neck, making me hot and sweaty. This reminded me of the first time he’d kissed me and the first time he’d made me orgasm in my hotel room at The York.

His tongue dipped inside my mouth, licking me slowly. “You’re an amazing kisser. I love kissing you, your soft lips…You taste so sweet, like warm sugar.”

“
Ronan
,” I said breathlessly as I inhaled the scent of him. The heavenly combination, of tequila and coconut oil was driving my senses dangerously out of control.

“You make me want to kiss you so hard, so deeply, that you’ll never be able to get the lingering taste of me out of your mouth.”

He played my body perfectly. Fire danced across my skin as he moved the thin fabric of my bikini bottoms to allow one of his long fingers to sink inside me.

“
Fuck
, you’re so wet,” he rasped.

“I can’t help it. You…
you
do this to me.”

His fingers skimmed my back, working the tie of my bikini top. The salty breeze from the open patio doors rushed over my bare skin. His tongue trailing across my collarbone sent little beats of excitement fluttering in my stomach. The feeling inside me…the constant craving for him, it was almost too much to take. It left me with a physical ache.

His eyes met mine, and once again, he had me locked in that magical stare. We needed no words. Every breath pulled me deeper into his trance.

Ronan’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket, abruptly interrupting the spell he had cast.

“
Dammit
,” he murmured against my neck.

He apologized profusely as he exited the room, and I stood there, exposed and flustered, my hormones running rampant. As I slipped my bikini bottoms off, I decided to dip into our private plunge pool in an effort to calm my heightened nerves.

Upon our arrival, management had offered to upgrade us to the biggest villa at Brisa Marina, but Ronan had insisted that the one-bedroom he’d booked was more than sufficient. I loved how humble he was, how he appreciated life’s tasteful luxuries without being flashy.