14. Drew
14
DREW
Holy shit. It still didn’t seem possible that the shy, unassuming young woman at the opposite end of the couch was a genuine movie star. She didn’t act like a movie star. She was so… well, shy and unassuming.
Then again, she was beautiful enough to be an actress. There was no doubt about that. But still, the way she was slouched down, all but buried in those oversized clothes with a blanket on top, she wasn’t exactly the picture of Hollywood glamor.
They were, in fact, my clothes, I realized. Or at least the sweatpants were. Shit, that meant a Hollywood actress had gotten in my pants. It was a juvenile thought, but one that was amusing, nonetheless.
“What?” Sierra asked. I’d thought her attention was on the movie on the screen. Tristan and Carter had gone upstairs about ten minutes ago, after some subtle nudging on Tristan’s part. He probably thought Sierra needed space. I agreed, but I had no room to retreat to. Besides, she didn’t seem in any hurry to rush off to the bedroom.
“I’m still having trouble wrapping my head around it. I don’t usually encounter genuine celebrities trapped under a tree.”
She raised an eyebrow in a way I found sexy as hell. “It’s not your traditional Hollywood meet-cute, I’ll give you that.”
But she was cute. In addition to being gorgeous, of course, but with her knees pulled up to her chest and the blanket covering everything but her face, she looked adorable. The ponytail made her look more like a college student than an actress. All she needed was glasses to complete the look. “I’ve seen the movies, you know. The first three.”
“You have? You don’t seem the type for car chases and fight scenes.”
I grinned. “I may have grown up as a computer nerd, but I’m still a man. We like that stuff.”
I didn’t mention I also liked seeing the hero get the girl—especially since it was a different one each movie. That had never struck me as incredibly sexist until just now.
Sierra was the star of the upcoming one, but there was no way she’d be in the next one. Chase Cooper, Aiden Hunt’s character, would move on and Sierra’s character would never be mentioned again. I wondered if that bothered her.
Sierra seemed interested in what I’d just said. “Did you get teased as a kid?”
“Big time. I had glasses. I was in the A/V club and the debate team. And, I didn’t even break a hundred pounds until a growth spurt near the end of high school.”
“Not even a hundred pounds,” she mused. “Funny how that’s a bad thing for a guy and a good thing for a girl.”
“Yeah.” That was another thing I hadn’t spent much time thinking about. “Since you were a child star, and a female at that, did you have to watch what you ate?” I’d taken a peek at an online bio of her when she’d slipped into the bathroom before.
“No,” she said, surprising me. “I didn’t watch what I ate, everyone else did it for me. My mother, my agent, the director, male costars… I don’t think I had an unsupervised bite throughout my first decade in the industry.”
“I hope you indulged while you were at the cabin. I would’ve pigged out with no witnesses around.”
“It was tempting, but I have to look good for the upcoming publicity and the premiere.” Her voice was bitter.
As far as I was concerned, she always looked fantastic, but all those people who told her what to eat probably would want her to wear something other than sweats. “Is it true how bad stage moms can be?”
“Yes.”
Her voice was clipped, and she swiveled her head back to the fire, a clear sign that it wasn’t something she wanted to talk about. I understood, but I still wanted to continue the conversation, now that I’d finally gotten her talking. In order to avoid any sensitive topics with her, I decided to reveal more about myself. “In college, I was the only computer science major who worked out twice a day.”
That made those gorgeous green eyes point in my direction again. “Why?”
“Most didn’t care about their bodies. All they cared about was coding.”
“No, I mean why did you work out so much?” Unless I was mistaken, her gaze dropped to my bicep, which was flattering.
But she probably wanted a real answer and it was hard to explain. “I—I resented my scrawny body in high school. It felt like something that was inflicted on me instead of being a part of me. But my roommate, freshman year, went to the gym regularly, so I tagged along. I liked the way it felt to work my muscles. It… it was like my body and my mind were one—and not like my brain was the only important part of me, and the rest of me was just luck of the draw.”
“You remade yourself,” she said.
“Yes. Or…more like, I accepted all parts of myself. I liked the way I felt after a good workout.” I reflected on it a moment longer and then grinned. “And I found it a lot easier to get dates after I started working out.”
“I’ll bet.”
She was definitely checking me out now. Part of me wanted to preen. A movie star liked the way I looked.
But that was exactly the kind of reaction she didn’t want. She was just Sierra, a lovely young woman who was staying with us. Being an actress was just her job. It didn’t affect who she really was.
Or at least, it shouldn’t.
“Do you exercise?” It was the safest thing I could think to say.
“Some. Mostly yoga and Pilates, but sometimes I run on the treadmill.”
She’d worn yoga pants when I first encountered her in her cabin. I hadn’t had a lot of time to appreciate how they hugged her legs then, but my mind filled in the details now. “How much yoga would you have to do to have a beer?”
She grinned. “Tonight doesn’t count. I’ll get it.” She pushed aside the blanket and was on her feet before I said anything else.
A minute later, she returned, handing me an open bottle. We clinked them together before she sat down again, this time with one foot up on the couch and one on the floor as she faced me.
“How come tonight doesn’t count? Do calories not exist on a Thursday?” I frowned. “Wait, is it Thursday?”
Sierra’s laugh was light and musical. “To be honest, I have no idea. That kind of thing doesn’t seem to matter way up here.”
“Agreed.” I took a long swallow of the ice-cold beer. “But seriously, is tonight some kind of time out?”
She looked away, this time toward the door to her room, not the fireplace. But she seemed more lost in thought than looking for an escape. “Not really a time out. But… I don’t know. I didn’t want you all to find out, but now that you have… it’s like I can stop worrying about it. Like the thing I feared most happened—and I lived to tell the tale.”
Maybe it was the two glasses of wine and then the beer, but I couldn’t quite follow that. “Staying with us is the thing you feared most?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Well, yeah, kind of. Getting stranded with strangers—especially men—was definitely not on my bucket list. But ever since I got here, I hoped you wouldn’t find out about my career. But you did, and… well, so far, it’s not quite as bad as I thought it would be.”
So many questions piled up in my slightly inebriated brain. “But why didn’t you want us to know? And why ‘especially men’?”
Her face was earnest as she looked back at me. “I’m not very good with them. Surely you’ve noticed that?”
I nodded, fighting the urge to give her a hug. She looked so lost and forlorn at the moment. “You flinch so much, I was beginning to think that was your primary form of cardio.”
“I can’t help it.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” Seriously, it was wrong to want to hold someone who jumped whenever I got near, but I wanted to anyway. “Doesn’t it affect your acting?”
“No.” She frowned. “Well, not usually.”
“How come?”
“Because it’s acting. Unless I’m playing a character with anxiety, I can be as brave or strong or whatever the role calls for.”
That was the gist of the job, but I still couldn’t quite picture it. “Can you do a role right now?”
Her head tilted, and her ponytail flipped over her shoulder. “What kind?”
“Any kind.” Suddenly, I thought of a video that had popped up after one of the Battery Operated videos the other day. “Pretend you’re like that kid in the video. The one who got a dog for his birthday.”
She nodded and sat up straighter.
“Here, son,” I said, making my voice deeper. “This is from your mother and me. Happy Birthday.” I handed her a throw pillow, since there weren’t any boxes around.
“Thanks, Dad.” Sierra got up on her knees and took the pillow from me. She regarded it with interest, and there was a smile on her face, like a kid would have at a birthday party. She leaned the pillow against her thigh, pretending to unwrap it. Her expression held excitement, but as if she anticipated a modest gift.
She got the imaginary present open and then lifted the lid of the box. Her movements were so realistic, I could visualize each step. She shot me a friendly grin before peering inside the makeshift box.
Sierra froze, both her expression and her body. For a long moment, she stared down into the box. Wordlessly, she looked up at me, shock in her eyes. Her lips parted, but no words came out.
She looked down again, staring in disbelief. Her lower lip trembled, and this time when she looked up at me, there was a question in her eyes. “Is… is he mine?” The last word was barely audible, and a tear tracked down her check.
Damn, she was good. “Go on, pick him up.” She almost made me believe there was a puppy between us.
Sierra carefully scooped up the invisible little dog, holding him up with delight. She beamed up at him, her eyes sparkling with moisture. Then she lowered him to her face, rubbing his soft fur against her cheek.
Holy shit, she was putting me under a goddamn spell. I needed to end this before I asked for a chance to hold the puppy, too. “That was really good,” I said gruffly.
The imaginary puppy vanished, and so did the light in Sierra’s eyes. She was just a young woman again, a small, timid, ordinary woman. Or as ordinary as someone that beautiful could be.
“Thanks. It was kind of fun.”
I grinned. “Think Carter reacted that way when he first got Zeus?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think he’s capable of that kind of emotion.”
“He’s not that bad of a guy, you know.” But Sierra wasn’t ready to hear that, so I dropped it. “Can you do another part?”
“Sure.” She infused the word with a confidence I wasn’t used to associating with her. “Anything.”
I thought for a moment. “How about one of those cranky judges on a cooking show?”
“Like a celebrity chef?”
“Yeah, a really mean one.”
Sierra’s expression turned accusing. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
I held up my hands. “Hey, if you don’t want to, that’s?—”
“You fucking moron,” she snarled. “That’s a cast iron skillet, and you’re treating it like it’s a plastic bowl from the dollar store. If you can’t respect the tools of the trade, then you’re in the wrong line of business.”
She grumbled under her breath. “And don’t give me that. This is my show. If you can’t follow the rules, then get the fuck out of my kitchen!”
My jaw had dropped at some point during her tirade. Her voice was about an octave lower than usual, and she’d even added a flawless British accent. But that last part had been loud, and instinctively, I glanced down the hallway toward the stairs leading up to the other two bedrooms. Sierra did, too.
“Oops,” she said, using her normal voice again. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I just don’t know what I’ll say if one of them asks me why I got chewed out by a pissed-off English chef.” I shook my head slowly. Sierra was the real deal. “So how exactly did I mistreat the cast iron skillet and deserve that verbal abuse?”
She giggled. “I have no idea. Except for a few things like scrambled eggs, cooking isn't really my thing. This is fun, though.”
“I’m glad you think so.” It was nice to see her smile—her real smile, that was.
“Seriously, it was. I, um, I’ve had some trouble with writing, so it’s nice to be reminded that I do know what I’m doing with acting, at least.”
“Want to talk about your writing?”
“No,” she said instantly. “Give me one more role to act.”
As I tried to think of a good part for her to play, something else occurred to me. “You don’t have a script.”
Her forehead wrinkled. “What do you mean?”
“Well, usually when you act, you’re using someone else’s words, right? But tonight, you’re using your own words.”
“Yeah, I guess. Why?”
“I’d say that’s the writer in you feeding your actor self the script.”
For a moment, she was still, thinking over what I’d said, and then she smiled. “Maybe so. Let’s see if I can do it again with a third role.”
“Okay.” I tried to think of something that’d really challenge her. I had no doubt she could handle it. “A woman being mugged at gunpoint.”
Her head tilted as she thought about it. “I’m actually trying to get away from playing the damsel in distress.”
“Okay, then be the mugger.”
She glanced upwards. “Might get loud again. Come on, give me a hard one.”
Hmm… she was such a shy young woman. Maybe a real test of her acting ability would be to make her be assertive. Suddenly, I had an idea—one that may or may not have been influenced by her using the phrase a hard one . “Okay, be a cougar. An older woman on the prowl.”
Her eyes lit up at the challenge, but then almost as quickly, they narrowed. This time there was no doubt she looked me up and down, and to my surprise, it almost made me feel a little uncomfortable.
“You work out?” Her voice was the sexy rasp of a life-long smoker, and I almost dropped my beer in surprise.
“Yes.”
“I can tell.” She put her bottle to her mouth and closed her lips around it in a way that made my cock stir. She kept her eyes on me while she gulped down half the bottle.
Then she set it on the coffee table and reached her hands up behind her head. Seconds later, her honey-colored hair spilled around her shoulders. I’d never seen it down, but it fell in gentle waves. Fuck. She needed to wear it that way more often.
“Ever been with an older woman?”
I tried to laugh, but my mouth was too dry. Sierra was two years younger than me, but right now, she made me feel like an inexperienced teen. “No,” I said hoarsely.
I raised my beer to my lips, but she leaned forward and plucked the bottle out of my hands. “Did you ever want to?” she asked huskily.
Crap. If she came any closer, she’d notice the bulge in my jeans. “Okay, you win, you’ve proven you can play any role I throw at you.”
She ignored me entirely. Her hand rested along the back of the couch, and somehow, she was closer to me than I thought. “Do you like to play?”
Shit. “You win, Sierra. You can stop now.”
Sierra continued to stare at me through half-lidded eyes. I never would’ve guessed she’d look so predatory.
“You’re what, twenty-five?” Her gaze swept up and down my body. “That’s a good age. So much… stamina .”
Wait, what was that thing actors said? When they did that thing where they brought their hand down in front of them to signal the end of their act? Then I remembered.
I held my hand up in front of my face, providing a barrier between us. “And… scene,” I said as I brought it down.
Sierra blinked and looked into my eyes in surprise. Then she laughed.
“Did I use that correctly?” I asked cautiously, wanting to make sure I was talking to the real Sierra and not her evil, older twin.
“Yep.”
“Good. I couldn’t remember what it was for a moment.”
She laughed again. “You could have just said cut.”
Crap, that would’ve been smart. “I didn’t think of it. You scared all thoughts right out of my head.”
Sierra grinned. She seemed so playful and light compared to what she had been like a few minutes ago. “Surely you weren’t truly frightened of little old me?”
“Not you—your assertive doppelganger. I think I would’ve been more relaxed with the angry British chef.”
She was amused. “I kind of like that. I’m not used to intimidating people.”
I nearly scoffed at that. She was drop-dead gorgeous and a famous actress, and she thought she didn’t ever intimidate anyone? “Trust me, Scary Sierra is a real thing.”
The glint in her eyes was the only warning I got before the cougar returned. She crawled toward me, her luscious hair hanging down, obscuring the fact that she was wearing a bulky sweatshirt. “Have you ever kissed an older woman?”
My cock was rock hard now. “Sierra?—”
She was right next to me, her knee touching my thigh as she stared me down. “I know things girls your age don’t.”
She was such a damn good actress that I completely believed her—as did my cock. Out of desperation to do the right thing, I shoved a throw pillow between us. “Here, look, another puppy.”
Batting the pillow aside, she ran her fingers up my arm, cupping my face. “I can teach you.”
Her voice was liquid sex. I wanted to grab her, pin her back against the cushions, and devour her mouth, but I knew I couldn’t. To her, it was just a fun game. I grabbed her wrist, pulling it away from my face, but her other hand slid up my thigh.
“Snap out of it.” She was starting to freak me out, as if she was in a trance. I need to get her to break character, and I didn’t think and scene would hack it this time.
Then I thought of a way. A slightly evil way, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
I put my hand on her thigh and slid it up her leg. My fingers glided over her hip and up under her hoodie until I found her waist.
Then I dug my fingers in.
She shrieked as I tickled her, giggling madly as she tried to get away. But I still had her wrist in my hand, and I held her tightly as I tickled her ribs. She’d tortured me with her spot-on interpretation of an older woman on the prowl—now it was my turn to give a little back.
Sierra tried to twist away, but all she managed to do was to fall against me, slumping against my chest. God, her curves felt good against me—just like her silky skin did under my fingers.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped in between giggles. “Please, I’ll be good.”
Shit. There was definitely part of me that liked hearing her beg. It was the same part of me that liked the way she squirmed around on top of me. But I relented, easing my fingers off her side. Besides, if she kept yelping like that, Carter and Tristan would probably come storming down here, demanding to know what the hell I was doing to her.
They probably already knew what I’d like to be doing to her.
Sierra’s squirming ceased as she sprawled across my lap, her back against my armrest. She shook her head at me while she tried to catch her breath. Finally, she spoke. “That’s no way to treat your elders.”
I laughed. “What the hell got into you? I thought I was going to have to call the guys down to protect my virtue.”
She rolled her eyes at that. “I wanted to prove to you that I could act.”
“You did. Several times over. And besides, we just saw you in a trailer for a huge movie. I’d say that proves you can act.”
She waved that aside with a flick of her hand. “I didn’t do much acting in that movie.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
She shook her head. “It was more like reacting, not acting. My main job was to make Aiden look good.”
If that was true, it was a damn shame. She had amazing skills. “You got to fight in that scene at the end.”
“That was my friend, Ronnie. She’s a stuntwoman.”
Oh. I hadn’t been able to tell. “Surely you did more than just fawn all over Aiden Hunt.”
“Not much more,” she said with a grimace.
“He must be pretty used to women fawning all over him. Is his ego a mile wide?”
She thought it over as she sat on my lap, making no move to get up. “I thought so at first. I thought he was a real jerk.”
I raised an eyebrow. “That seems to be your knee-jerk reaction to most men.”
Her soft lips quirked into a smile, and she nodded. “Sometimes some of them prove me wrong.”
“I hope I’m in that camp.”
“I think maybe you are.”
That was good. With her sitting on my lap, I didn’t have a safe place to put my right arm, so I rested it on the sofa behind her and touched her hair lightly. “You look different with it down.”
She shrugged but didn’t move away from my touch. “It’s down when I’m an actress. It’s pulled back when I’m in writing mode.”
I smiled at that. “You Hollywood types… always with the costume changes.” I ran my fingers through her silky strands again, knowing I should stop. Just the fact that she was sitting on my lap, talking to me instead of shying away, was progress. “You really surprised me tonight.”
“That I can act?”
“That you could be so damn forward. What got into you?”
She grinned. “I lost myself in the role. And then when I saw the terror in your eyes, I just couldn’t stop.” She gazed past me, lost in thought. “I guess… I was just so relieved that you guys didn’t freak out when you saw the trailer that I felt kind of giddy with relief.”
“Giddy?” I didn’t think I’d ever heard anyone describe themselves that way.
“Yeah. You surprised me, too, you know.”
“I did?”
“Yeah.” She trained her emerald eyes back on me again. “I thought you were this kind, friendly, reformed computer nerd…”
“And now you think otherwise?” I still wanted her to think I was kind and friendly. Maybe not the computer nerd part, but hopefully our little impromptu acting class hadn’t made her think too badly of me.
“Well, yeah.” Her voice was soft and serious. “Because now I know better.”
Uh-oh. “What do you mean?”
“You fight dirty,” she whispered, as she shifted her hips on my lap. Her voice was so low, I barely heard it.
“What do you?—?”
“I can fight dirty, too.”
What?
I didn’t get a chance to ask that, because she dug her fingers under my arms and tickle-attacked me. Shit. I squirmed, trying to get away from her quick little hands before I started laughing hysterically like she had before. No way she’d ever take me seriously as a man after she heard that.
“Wait, please, just?—”
Her grin was evil, but this time it was all her own, not the cougar’s. She squirmed over my lap as she tickled my sides, my armpits, and pretty much anywhere she could reach. Despite the torment, my cock was rock hard again. In vain, I tried to catch her hands, and I half-succeeded. I caught one, but the other one mercilessly pressed into my side.
In self-defense, I lifted my knees, trying to nudge her over to the other side of the couch, but that’s not what happened. Instead, she fell forward, her head bumping my shoulder. I tugged at her hand I’d captured, still trying to lead her to the cushions next to me, but she brought her other hand down for balance.
Her fingers landed right on top of my rock-hard cock.