Chapter Nineteen #3
“You’re up.” Jules rushed in, setting the to-go bag and coffee on a side table.
They found her on the couch in the living room, her hair wet from a shower and her knees tucked to her chest. The platter of crackers sat on the coffee table.
“Yeah, but you need to stay over there. Way, way over there. I have no idea how contagious I am.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
Abigail tossed the closest throw pillow in warning. “You should have run away from me last night.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jules said, gesturing to the muffin bag and coffee. “We brought you breakfast. I could give you half now and—”
Abigail held up her hand like a traffic director. “Don’t come closer.”
“Fine. If you want caffeine and something besides crackers, here.”
“I’m fine. Go make out on the beach or something.” Abigail wriggled her eyebrows and smirked. “Yeah, I’m sick but not blind. I saw those pictures. You all did one hell of a job at faking that.”
Rhys shoved his hands into his pockets.
Jules blushed like she’d never been filmed kissing someone before. “I guess you’re feeling good enough to be obnoxious.” She backtracked toward the door. “That has to be a good sign. We’ll check on you later.”
“Rhys doesn’t do things so-so, does he?”
“ Abigail .”
“I’m standing right here,” he pointed out, also heading toward the door. He wasn’t exactly sure what “so-so” meant, but he had guesses and didn’t want to be part of their sisterly gossip.
“I’m just saying—”
“Go to sleep, Abs. Before I strangle you.” Jules blew a kiss to her sister and hurried past him.
“Let us know if you need anything,” he said, following.
“Rhys isn’t so-so. I believe it in my bones,” Abigail announced as Jules slammed the door in a hurry.
Once outside, he caught up to Jules. “What was that about?”
“Nothing. We have a swim with the dolphins after lunch. Have you ever done anything like that?”
“No. What was so-so?” Why was he asking? He had a good idea and didn’t want any part of the conversation about her ex.
“Mason.”
Yup. Her ex and the so-so sex that she couldn’t remember having months ago. Why did he open his mouth?
As they entered his bungalow, she continued, “Not just Mason. Just…” She gestured broadly toward the window as if the sunshine might answer for her. “Men.”
He arched an eyebrow. “I’m not so-so about anything.”
She laughed and tossed her hat and sunglasses onto the rollaway bed and threaded her fingers into her thick blond hair, loosening the waves she’d tied back. “In my experience, most men are so-so.” She lifted her hand to stop his rebuttal. “You’re always the exception to every rule.”
“What rules am I the exception to?”
“I don’t know. You just are.”
He worked that over but came back to the original topic. “Not to be the not-always-guys guy, but again, I’m not so-so in anything.”
She half-smiled, twisting her fingers together, and blushingly added, “If that picture of us says anything, I guess you’re right. But the men I’ve come across? Definitely so-so. In almost every department.”
His pulse strummed in his neck. For all that was holy, why did a woman like Jules Lowry have so-so sex?
His lips parted, but nothing came out. He parsed her words.
Magazines had named her the most beautiful woman.
Award shows had crowned her best actress.
He didn’t dispute any of that, but the accolades alone opened the men of the world up to her.
She literally had her pick. And all of them were so-so?
“I don’t know what the hell to say about that. ”
“Then again, I’m the common thread between men and me. Maybe I’m so-so. I don’t know. Maybe sex is just so-so.”
A sheen of sweat tickled the back of his neck. “You’re not. Trust me. You’re not.”
“You don’t know that.”
He knew the way that woman kissed. She wasn’t the problem. He’d stake his life on that.
“In movies, it’s so easy to make everything look perfect. I’m not really on a mountain, fighting a dragon, but it seems real once production has worked their magic.”
“That’s not comparable,” he said.
“And steamy kisses? The bedroom scenes? There are dozens of people on set. Some are feet away. Inches sometimes. Fixing hair. Directing where to look. How to sound. We have these little undergarments on. It’s not real. Real life doesn’t have that. Which is why it always falls flat.”
“Sex? Are you talking about real life or scripted productions?”
“All of the above.” She shrugged and swept toward the window, staring outside, clearly avoiding him. “Men as a species aren’t exactly known as givers. If they are, it’s mostly like a checklist to accomplish before they get to their big finish.”
His jaw dropped. Rhys didn’t plan to defend men as a species , but he had to say something. Except “Uh…” was all that came out. He cleared his throat. “Again. I’m not so-so at anything.”
He hated to repeat himself, but reiterating the point was necessary to make it perfectly clear.
“I know, Rhys. If I didn’t know before last night, which I would have guessed, I know now. Can we drop it?”
He didn’t want to. “Real life doesn’t have to be so-so.”
“Yeah. Okay. In theory. I agree.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes, blushing. “Actually, I believe you. Your kiss proved it.”
“ My kiss? Baby, that was a joint effort. Kilimanjaro, remember?” Her cheeks were pink from the memory, and he wanted them flushed because of what he could do right now. He’d kill for her face to be flushed, her lips parted, as she moaned his name.
He ran a hand over his face and paced to the far side of his far-too-small bungalow. The bed they’d spent the night in was the only thing separating them. While they’d been gone, someone had made it. He wanted to mess it up and prove what he’d said. What he wouldn’t do to push inside of her.
The consequences would be insurmountable, but that would be a problem to deal with another day. Rhys only cared about one thing—making Jules as high as a kite with his cock. Jesus Christ, he was going to lose this job. Oh well. He didn’t give a single, solitary iota of a fuck.
“Are you mad at me?” she asked.
He strode across the small distance and planted her on the edge of the bed then paced around his tiny bungalow, because he hadn’t mapped this out and didn’t have a plan. “This is what we’re going to do.”
“Rhys…”
“We throw Sloane’s plan out the door.”
“But—”
“We already know photogs are lurking. Forget them. Don’t check your email. Ignore your messages. We do what we want. If… when… they get their shots, Sloane does what Sloane does. But you and I are going to spend these two weeks…”
Her wide eyes widened, seemingly at the possibilities that might come out of his mouth.
“On vacation,” he finished, wanting to say, ‘in bed,’ but knowing that would lump him in with every so-so screw she’d ever had. If last night was any indication, when it came to them, their chemistry could burn this island to the ground. “I’ll keep you safe. I’ll always keep you safe.”
“I know,” she whispered, her eyes bright and curious, even if they skirted to him and away as though she were too nervous to meet his stare. “We vacation together and…?
“Let whatever happens happen,” he said, wanting to strip her naked and make her come before they did anything else. That wouldn’t happen, at least not right away. She was so nervous, so unsure of what he absolutely understood—that they would be legendary between the sheets together.
She tugged her bottom lip into her mouth. “When we go home, we’ll be normal again?”
He nodded.
“Do you promise?” she asked.
His heart punched his sternum. He swallowed hard, knowing he was already lying. “Promise.”
The bungalow’s phone rang, making them both jump.
He was done with surprises. “Expecting a call?”
She shook her head.
He answered, listened to the concierge, and hung up.
Their vacation plans weren’t going to happen.
Disappointment washed over him like an icy rain.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back.
“They found you a bungalow and will have your belongings sent over. A butler will pack and move you in there while we’re at lunch. ”
“Oh…” Jules knotted her fingers together. “But we just agreed to… You should come too,” she said, but her inflection rose like she was asking a question. “If you want. Since we’re vacationing together.”
How was this woman nervous about him?
Their kiss on the beach had been for the world to see—even if they both now wished no one else had seen.
Rhys closed the space between them like a magnetic force was pulling them together.
His palms cradled her cheeks, tipping her head back.
His mouth whispered over hers, a barely there kiss. Not for anyone else but them.
She smelled like vanilla and sugar. Her lips were soft, melting him to her. He could do nothing but taste her sweet mouth, which opened, and her tongue slid over his, exploring and driving him wild. He couldn’t get enough of her.
“Rhys,” she breathed.
His hands slowly moved down her biceps as she shivered. Her back arched as she asked for more. His tongue swirled with hers, and he groaned, need erupting through him.
Her tentative kisses grew bolder. Jules knotted her arms around his neck, pressing her soft body to his hard one.
Rhys ran his hands up and down her spine then wrapped her thick, wavy hair around his fist, tugging with just enough pressure to angle her head back, deepening the kiss, feeling a fiery need that went straight to his cock.
“Damn, sweetheart.” His free hand belted her to him. The thickening length of his erection pressed between them.
Then a knock sounded. He froze, his breath racing.
Her bright eyes were wide as if they’d been caught, as if she didn’t know they could make that kind of magic again.
Her tongue darted over her bottom lip. He cupped her cheek, rubbing his thumb over the same wet spot she’d just licked, leaving no question that he didn’t want to let her go.
Another knock sounded.
His breath shook as he eased back, not letting her go. This woman had him by the balls, and she had no idea how messed up he was over her flushed cheeks and parted lips.
The corners of his lips tugged up, the hint of satisfaction and desperate need forcing him to grin. Surprise—and curiosity—danced in her eyes. It was enough that he’d be willing to ignore whoever was at the door just to taste her breathlessness again.
A third knock sounded. “Delivery.”
She unwrapped her arms from his neck but didn’t step away. “Maybe the butler is going to pack your bags?”
Reality crept in. That didn’t make any sense. Rhys tucked her behind him. “I didn’t tell them I was leaving this place. Stay back.”
She didn’t.
“Jules, really. Give me a second.” Rhys checked the peephole. A delivery man wearing a resort uniform and holding an armful of flowers waited. “What the hell is going on now?” He gave her another look to cement her in place then opened the door. “What’s up?”
“Flowers for Jules Lowry.”
Son of a man whore. His gaze narrowed. “From who?”
The delivery man offered a small card and the bouquet. Rhys only took the card.
“Who’s it from?” Jules asked.
It only took a second to decide those flowers weren’t coming inside. He crumpled the card in his fist, tipped the delivery man, and sent him on his way with the bouquet.
“I don’t want to know, do I?” she asked.
“Who knows you’re here besides Abigail?”
“And whatever paparazzi Sloane had trailing us? No telling. What did the card say?”
“Some bullshit that you look tired and should stay here to relax.”
Her shoulders straightened, and anger cooled her jewel-toned eyes. “Relax or retire?”
He rubbed his forehead.
“Rhys? What did it really say?”
“You know what it said,” he muttered. “Damn it. I don’t get it.
” Whoever the stalker was had to be on Sloane’s list of photographers.
They were more or less aware of where she was and had telephoto lenses to figure out the details.
Someone could have watched her come in last night and return again after breakfast.
He pictured the escalating messages from over the years that they’d attributed to the person she called her stalker.
You looked tired.
You should get rest.
You’re run down.
Dark circles much?
Could have done better.
Never deserved that part.
Stealing roles from deserving actresses.
Time to retire.
Used-up has-been.
Your time’s up.
It’s time. Retire.
They read like a parasocial relationship gone off the deep end and didn’t match any of the weirdos who’d fantasized about Jules over the years. Those people had come and gone. Retire Guy didn’t make sense and had stuck. They couldn’t get rid of him. That had never worried Rhys. Until now.
Nothing had ever crossed the line to law-breaking. He was just an anonymous person who spent an obsessive amount of time focused on Jules. It wasn’t even that scary, just bizarre. Except coming on vacation had crossed a neon line.
“It has to be one of the photogs Sloane works with,” he said. “I’ll tell Dean to dig into that.” Rhys typed a message to Vivian and Dean even as he couldn’t see why this was happening now.
Vivian immediately called him. “What the actual fuck is happening down there?”
If only he had that answer. “That’s what I’m asking you.”
Jules grabbed her sunglasses and hat. “I’m going to check on Abigail. I want to make sure no one’s bothering her.”
“There’s zero chance you’re going without me.”
“Then let’s go.”
He snagged her hand and punched the key-shaped button on the door’s keypad to lock the door behind them.