The Movie Star's Red Hot Holiday Fling: A novella (Entangled Indulgence) (Sweetbriar Springs) (2 page)

Suddenly glad he’d opted for loose-fitting shorts, Blake fastened the weights in place, then positioned himself under the bar on the bench. “Not going to happen.” Then he smiled his best Quinn-Sawyer-Charm-Your Pants-Off-Poster grin. “You’ve got a choice, Jessie. Compromise and stay, or leave and miss out on an opportunity to beat the odds.”

She narrowed her almond-shaped eyes. Her brows etched a row of fury across her forehead. “You’re twisting my words to suit yourself.”

So much for his supposed Hollywood charisma sweeping her off her feet. “What can I say? I’m a quick study.” He prepared to lift. “Well? You just gonna stand there and watch?”

Jessie looked away, then back at him. He recognized the desire to bug out of the room warring with the internal honor code she’d followed as a Marine. She tugged her shorts down a notch to cover more of her scar.

“Fine. I’ll spot you.” Jessie came over to stand behind him, grabbed the bar beside either side of his hands, touching them. “On one condition.”

She smelled good—sweet and tart like a splash of limeade on a cool summer day. He wondered what it would be like to taste her skin, slide his tongue along the long column of her neck. The pulse in the hollow of her throat fluttered, but she maintained her position. That garnered his respect. He’d take her nibble of concession and work it to his advantage during the next two hours.

“Typical Marine.” He touched her gloved hands, then prepared to lift. “Not about to give up without a fight. Name your terms.”

“I’ve got a buddy who would kill to be on a movie set,” Jessie said. “You willing to give a one-legged, one-eyed, former Marine a walk-on role in the next Quinn Sawyer movie?”

He could make that happen even if he walked away from the franchise and didn’t direct the next movie. “Can he act?” he asked. That she didn’t ask for anything herself spoke volumes.

“Constanza’s a natural.”

“Then I’ll make it happen.” Once he finished the script and convinced the franchise to accept his terms to stay on the set, he’d make damned sure the man got more than a walk-on if he had talent.

“Great. Then let’s get started.”

He pushed the bar off the stand and hefted the weight. “Spot me, then we’ll switch off. Better catch your breath while you can ’cause this workout comes with a warning sticker.” Only one way to win her over. He’d show her that not everyone was intimidated by a spitfire-of-sassitude fueled by internal fears he couldn’t fathom.

An hour and a half later, sweat glistened on her fair skin and slicked the spiky hair on her forehead as Jessie finished her third round of lunges. “What next?” She pulled a pink bandana out of her waistband and tied it around her head.

“Squats,” he said, though he wanted to end the workout to stop her from hurting herself.

Pain bracketed her mouth, and there was a slight limp in her gait as she moved across the room toward the weight station. A strange sensation banded around his lungs. God, she was strong, unwilling to give up. Just like the character he’d been writing about for two months in the hopes that the studio would take a risk on an emotional Quinn Sawyer movie. Someone with depth. Someone with a need to overcome the wounds of the past. Someone who would learn to trust again.

Someone like Jessie.

“We’ll rotate them into tomorrow’s workout,” he said.

“What’s the matter? You afraid I might kick your action hero butt?”

“Nope.” He grabbed a towel, swiped it through his hair. “I’ve got to meet my sister and her fiancé’s family for breakfast. I’ll make up for the lost time later.” Alone. When he’d ramp up his reps and run the resort’s five mile trail.

She rubbed the back of her neck, squeezing the muscles cording her shoulders. “You need a lot of time to primp before you show up?”

The subtle movement tightened the soaked fabric hugging her breasts, outlining her pebbled nipples. Lust blazed in his groin. Blake moved the towel to the front of his shorts. “Yeah, I got a flower petal bath planned followed by a cuticle treatment,” he said.

She laughed, turning to pick up her dumbbells. “Smartass.”

More lust slammed low. The only ass he was interested in was the sexy, tight bottom bending over the weights. Crap. Make that double crap. This was not what he’d expected to happen when he’d walked into the gym this morning.

He glimpsed down again. Yup. That was one sweet behind. And he’d always been into legs and ass. Shit. This was Shannon Sullivan’s wounded daughter’s ass he was scoping out. Jessie was completely off-limits. Wanting this sexy woman was totally wrong.

Not to mention he didn’t want to complicate his life after making the decision to take his career to the next level. His agent hadn’t wanted him to change direction, but his sister had encouraged him. If his producers didn’t go for his script, Blake planned to walk away from the franchise and start over. It was a calculated risk where the outcome could set the stage for the second half of his career. And that was where he needed to concentrate his focus.

In spite of his brain’s decision, need still pulsed in his groin. He’d have to opt for a cold shower this morning.

Swallowing, he grabbed a bottle hanging from a hook on the wall. “See you tomorrow?” he asked, spraying the bench behind her with a fine mist.

Jessie peered at him over her shoulder, and he looked up to avoid getting caught ogling her fine bottom. Recognition flashed in her eyes and pink stained her high cheekbones. “Only if you plan on showing up an hour earlier than today,” she said.

Inwardly he groaned. So much for sleep. “There’s a cocktail party for the guests tonight. Could end late. Besides, we have a deal. Remember?”

Jessie smirked. “If you think I’m going to make this buddy system easy on you just because you’ve agreed to give Constanza a walk-on in your next movie, then you thought wrong.”

“I’ll be there,” he said. Though he’d need a protein shake followed by a double shot of espresso to make it. “And I’ll bring kettle balls.”

“Beats the heck out of bringing just your balls,” she said.

He stifled a laugh as she exited the gym. No one had talked to him like that in years. And the sass was a refreshing change from the vapid suck-ups he’d been dating. Still, he wouldn’t act on this attraction. Not when he’d shared a cocoa with her concerned mother last night and had heard her story about her good-natured daughter becoming a bitter woman. Even now Blake identified the pain she was feeling, and he didn’t want to be the next person to add to the shitpile of cards she’d been dealt.

Nope.

Nada.

Nyet.

In two weeks, he’d be in Burbank on the set filming the next Quinn Sawyer movie if the powers-that-be accepted his conditions. Seducing this fierce, beautiful woman could not happen no matter how much she turned him on. Plus, he’d promised Jessie he’d help her friend. That meant concentrating his energy on making everything he’d set in motion fall into place, or he’d lose more than his movie career.

He wouldn’t be able to look himself in the mirror if he failed to deliver.

Still, keeping things platonic between them would be a hell of a lot harder now that his randy hormones had been activated.

Chapter Two

“I talked to my Mom last night.” Jessie swung a kettle bell between her legs, then hefted it shoulder height. “She thinks you’re a
nice young man
. Ordered me to stop pressuring you to follow my schedule, especially after you promised to give Constanza something cool to do after he leaves rehab.” Though she’d never admit it to Blake, Jessie was glad her mother had set aside her emotional kid gloves and replaced them with her regular mom mitts.

Blake cranked his kettle ball. “Good. Then we’re back to our regular o’dark thirty shifts tomorrow.”

She continued swinging her kettle balls, distracting herself from the agonizing stabs attacking her outer thigh by watching Blake match her rep for rep. His body—sheer male perfection in low slung black gym shorts and a sweat dampened T-shirt that clung to his pecs—moved with a fluidity that mocked her attempts to keep pace.

“Or we could keep this schedule and test the great Quinn Sawyer’s endurance.” She’d taken a Sullivan Oath of Honor to behave, but goading Blake was the most fun she’d had since the bomb exploded.

“Do you ever sleep?” he asked, finishing his reps.

“I used to sleep soundly in a sand pit. Lately…” She stopped herself before she let the truth slip out. Nightmares, a solid case of post-traumatic stress disorder, disjointed memories of the blast and the horror of the aftermath crawled into her head at night. But she couldn’t piece together everything that had happened.

“Lately you’d rather torture movie stars,” he said.

There was a hint of understanding that underscored his words. It was as if he realized that she’d snap if he offered her yet another pithy encouragement.

She’d had enough of silver-lining bullshit from people. The truth was, the clouds blackening her soul hadn’t begun to be acknowledged. Everyone had rushed to make her feel better instead of letting her feel at all. But she couldn’t change the fact that she’d survived an IED explosion that had taken so much more from the other members of her team. Nor could she stop blaming herself despite the medals and commendations she’d received. And she couldn’t pretend she hadn’t been changed when the evidence carved an ugly reminder down her leg.

A genuine respect grew within Jessie for the man behind the movie star, because he recognized her need to just
be
.

“Yeah, something like that,” she said. “What the heck, I’ll cut you some slack. I wouldn’t want to piss off my mother.”

“I’d hate to be on her bad side. She makes a mean cup of hot cocoa.”

He smiled, and damned if his trademark, singular dimple didn’t cause her stomach to dip and roll in a giddy somersault. Sheesh. Her hormones had better take a long glance in the mirror because she
so
wasn’t in his league.

“That how she bribed you to work out with me?” she asked.

A muscle twitched in his cheek, much to her satisfaction. “We had a conversation, that’s all.” He held out his hand. “Give me the ball.”

“What would your diehard fans say if they knew you have a serious addiction to hot chocolate?” She released it, but not before their fingers brushed. Electricity sparked, igniting another sharp yearning under her skin.

His gaze was firm, rooting her to the floor. “She puts marshmallows in it. The tiny kind.”

She exhaled a long breath. “And you’re partial to tiny marshmallows?”

“Among other things,” he said, lifting one brow.

Her insides flipped again. There was no mistaking the intent in his voice. But he couldn’t want her. A long-lost rebellious instinct fought to the surface and responded, propelled her to close the inches separating them.

“Like what?” she asked.

…

Like you.
Blake wanted to draw Jessie into his arms, mold his lips to hers, and hear her moan his name when he entered her. Her smoky blue eyes made him want to break his personal vow to keep his hands off and show her how much she turned him on. But at what cost?

He attempted to squash his desire with a solid picture of her mother stirring her hot chocolate. As a pseudo parent for the past ten years, he knew how angry he’d be if someone took advantage of his little sister.

His body refused to obey his direct commands to ice down, and heat rushed to his groin, making him uncomfortably hard.
Damn and damn it again
. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, and absolutely shouldn’t cross the boundary between them. “Whipped cream.” He stepped back and lowered the kettle ball to the ground.

Jessie was special. She deserved someone who wouldn’t leave her behind. All he could offer her was a temporary fling. And he refused to engage in a shallow holiday affair no matter how much his hormones said to pull the trigger and go for it.

She lifted a corner of her lip. “I see. And would that be with or without the prerequisite hot fudge sundae?”

“With.”

“So the great Blake Johnston has a little boy’s sweet tooth.” She tipped her head to the right, tapped her chin with her index finger. “You ever consider alternative uses for said sweets?”

Hell yeah.
He wanted to kiss her, replace that snarky face with a blissed-out one. And damn times five, he imagined licking whipped cream and melted chocolate from her skin, tasting her sweetness, and dipping into her.

Icebergs. Think glaciers and the North Pole. Not working. Zero effect on the current state of hardened affairs.
Blake searched for an exit strategy, a reason to leave before Jessie saw the evidence of his arousal.

He moved behind the abdominal cruncher, then adjusted the seating position. “What do you think?” he asked.

“I think you’re a tease, Blake Johnston.” Her lush mouth narrowed into a sharp line capable of cutting through granite. A long beat of silence weighted the air before she spoke again. “But then you’re supposed to be an all-American Hollywood sex machine so I guess you can’t control your natural animal magnetism. No worries. I’m immune.”

Blake’s lungs squeezed, emptied of air. He wanted to believe her. Hell, he should believe her. He couldn’t afford not to believe her. But Blake heard the lie tripping over her assertion. And he had caught sight of the flicker of recrimination glistening in her blinking eyes.

Drawing in oxygen, Blake called upon every ounce of his acting ability to ignore the overwhelming urge to cross the room and kiss her senseless. “Excellent,” he said. “That makes two of us.”

…

Moments later, Jessie repeated her reps, counting the reasons the fire chief would stamp his approval on her application. Then triple checked why she wanted to kick Blake Johnston’s sorry-teasing behind from here to the Middle East where he’d get a serious acting lesson in Active Duty 101.

She’d half-expected he’d skip the gym today. But here he was, and her hormones jigged a happy dance whenever he flexed his spectacular muscles during their session.
Geez. Focus on what you’re getting out of this, not his pecs.

“You get Constanza a walk-on?” she asked. Though she couldn’t bring Rodriguez back from the grave, she sure as hell could help her friend.

Blake moved behind her and spotted her final two reps, touching her elbows to help maintain her form. “Called the director last night. It’s a go,” he said. “You want to tell him the good news or would a call from Quinn Sawyer be better?”

Electrical tingles zipped through her skin, making her libido giddy. Just the briefest of touches and her mind left the building.

So. Not. Happening.
“Let’s group Skype him this afternoon.”

“Good plan,” Blake said, stepping away.

Despite her brain telling her to stand down, Jessie kept sneaking looks at Blake’s beyond-gorgeous body. “I can’t wait to see the look on his face when you deliver the news,” she said, her voice calm though her nerves were jumping. Everything inside her that had long been sexually dormant was waiting for orders.

“Me, too,” Blake said, bending to lift a barbell.

Her mouth watered. She was here to get in shape, not to drool over Blake aka Quinn Sawyer, super hunk. Who wouldn’t be attracted to him? He
was
every red-blooded woman’s fantasy of the perfect man. Tall, broad, sexy. And beyond handsome with that roguish grin giving his all-American face a hint of bad boy in the bedroom with a guaranteed-to-please sticker on the side.

Man, if the guys in her unit could hear her thoughts, they’d rag her without mercy. An ache lodged in her throat, and misery scorched grooves behind her eyes. She missed them. Missed the ribbing, the ease of being part of a team that always had each other’s backs.

Jessie curled her weight, checked her position in the mirror. This afternoon’s Skype session would help ease some of that sorrow. And she hoped to regain another kind of camaraderie by joining Sweetbriar Springs’s fire department. Though the excitement and thrills wouldn’t be the same as the rush of being in an elite group overseas, at least she’d be doing something worthwhile with good people. Helping her community, being part of the fabric of her family’s life again, would have to be enough.

She pushed the old hurt down with a deep breath, then finished her reps, forcing herself to match Blake’s pace. Though Jessie would never admit it, working out with him had restored a measure of that belonging. The happy hormonal dancing was a complication she’d curb. Easy enough considering Blake had made it clear that he wasn’t interested in her
that way.

To Blake, she was one of the guys. A familiar role she’d played her entire life. “Ten more minutes and I’m out of here,” Jessie said. “You hitting the rose petal bath?”

“Nah, I thought I’d forgo it for a pansy-ass rub down.” He hefted his final set of reps. “After I finish my run.”

She returned her dumbbells to the stand in the corner. “How many miles?” And why hadn’t he pushed her to go with him? He knew the Marine protocol for conditioning required endurance training. She swiped her hand down her right leg, squeezed the muscle beneath the scar puckering her leg.

“Ten.”

“Great.” She grabbed her hoodie from the bench and put it on. “I’m going with you.”

“You sure you should?”

She hated the concern she heard in his voice. “Nothing will stop me from proving I’m ready to serve even if it’s stateside.” And nothing would stop her from finding a way to obliterate the naysayers in her buttinski family who didn’t want her to risk her life again.

“You’re driving yourself too hard.”

“If you’d ever been called to real action, you’d know why I am.” She’d been born to serve. And damn it, she’d push herself to regain part of what she’d lost that day on the battlefield when everything that had given her life meaning had been demolished.

“Park your attitude,” Blake said. “Not every call to serve is about protecting our country.” He replaced his weights, giving her a most excellent view of his sexy, sculpted behind.

One she still wanted to kick.

Jessie took off her weight gloves and shoved them into her fleece jacket’s pockets. “You got a better definition?” She was itching to fight something, someone, somewhere. And Blake provided all three options in stellar proportions.

He turned his head to give her an even, heart-stopping gaze. “Try Parenting 101 without a manual. Better yet, try explaining to your kid sister that you’ll take care of her ’cause the doctors couldn’t save her parents. Try doing all that without anyone to help you figure out how the hell to explain it to yourself.”

Shame fired across her cheeks. She’d always been able to count on her family’s support no matter what. Suddenly, her refusal to accept their love and concern seemed petty in light of Blake’s revelation.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I knew you’d raised Maisey, but…” No tabloid could adequately portray how difficult his life had been after his parents died. She couldn’t imagine his loss, the impact of the responsibility that had been thrown onto his shoulders at such a young age.

No wonder her mother had taken him under her protective wing. If only to provide Blake with some sense of connection to the woman who had given him life.

He walked toward her. “Not everyone gets a Purple Heart or written commendations for doing the right thing.”

Jessie held her fist to her mouth, swallowed the words threatening to jump out of her throat. Not when she didn’t believe she deserved any of the medals the U.S. of A. had bestowed upon her at a ceremony in Asheville’s premier VA rehab center.

“You don’t get a front row seat in the Life Sucks department. If you’re the Marine you claim to be, you’ll get over your crap attitude.” Blake’s oh-so-green eyes, glinting with flecks of emerald, cut her to the core. “And you’ll start practicing the art of playing nice in the proverbial sandbox.”

In that moment, something shifted inside Jessie, making her see the real hero standing in front of her, toe-to-toe, refusing to back down in spite of all the anger balls she’d lofted in his general direction. And knowing that Blake Johnston was more than a cardboard movie icon screamed a loud warning bell in her head.

Blake Johnston, the man with integrity and honor, spelled danger in ways that both intrigued and frightened Jessie.