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  I needed to be close to him even if that meant just going to the bathroom.

  So, I quietly got up and moved toward the back of the plane, wondering if he was on the phone or watching TV or if there would be silence in his room.

  As I got closer, we hit a patch of rough air. The plane jolted, shaking beneath me, and I rushed to the side to hold on to a seat, so I wouldn’t fall. It only lasted a few seconds, and then the turbulence was gone. But, in that time, it had been just enough movement for the door to crack open the tiniest bit and for light to seep out from the small slit.

  Now, I had the perfect window to look through.

  Tiptoeing, not wanting to make a sound, I positioned myself to the left of the door and quickly realized I was looking at his face. I shifted my stance, leaning more to the right, and this view was of his chest and stomach and—

  I slapped my hand over my mouth to stop the noise that was about to come out.

  Brett had his button-down shirt pushed up and his suit pants pulled down.

  His hand was on his dick.

  And he was stroking it.

  God, it was the sexiest sight I’d ever seen.

  I got closer to the opening to get a better view of his cock. I hadn’t seen many in my life, but his was certainly the nicest. It was long and hard, a vein running down the backside and a thick crown circling the top.

  The only sound that came from the room was his fist pumping.

  And it was pumping so hard.

  I wanted to wrap my mouth around the tip, taking him in my throat, my tongue swirling around his shaft as I pulled back, before I dipped in again, repeating that over and over until he came.

  But Brett had made it clear that he only wanted me as his client. Nothing else, nothing that included my mouth or his cock. So, for now, all I could do was watch.

  Wetness began to pool in my panties as his hand moved faster, deeper, gripping his dick like it was a baseball bat. He slid to the top and covered it with his palm before twisting as he went down about halfway and rose again.

  The muscles in his thighs flexed.

  So did those beautiful abs.

  I knew I shouldn’t be looking, but there was no way I could leave now.

  Brett was getting close. I could tell because, both times I’d felt him come, he’d sped up right before he got off.

  But, this time, I got to see the build, I got to see his fingers squeeze extra hard, and I got to see what pleasure looked like from his point of view.

  And then I got to see him come.

  Long ribbons of white shot out from the tip. I didn’t know where it landed since that was outside my small window of viewing.

  But I saw the way it projected and how his muscles contracted and his knees bent.

  And I heard a noise that wasn’t skin on skin. It was still quiet, surely because he didn’t want the flight attendant or myself knowing what he was doing, but it was deep and guttural. And it was a moan, one he’d made every time he fucked me.

  After the last stream of cum came out, his hand stopped, and I took a step back toward the bathroom, rounding the corner and rushing to my seat.

  Several seconds passed. Then, I heard the door open and another one close, and I knew he had gone into the bathroom.

  I wondered what had gotten him so hard. If he had hoped I wasn’t tired and wouldn’t take the bedroom from him, so he could go in there for some privacy. I wondered if the visual in his head had been of me.

  I’d never get those answers, but my mind still came up with my own conclusion—one that involved Brett’s desk, but this time, I was facing him, my legs spread across the edge, as he looked me in the eyes while he fucked me.

  That thought was interrupted when my phone lit up on the table, and I saw Eve’s name on the screen.

  Eve: You totally just put the moves on him, didn’t you?

  Me: No! He’s sleeping.

  Eve: Go wake his ass up.

  Me: Text me when you come up with a date. XO

  I flipped through the movies and found one of my favorites, a love story between a maid and the president, and I wrapped myself up in my sweater.

  There was a little less than four hours left of this flight, and I knew there was no way I could fall asleep now.

  17

  James

  Eve flew to Miami ten days after I moved into my new apartment. Now that my car had arrived from LA, I was able to pick her up from the airport. She practically tackled me as she climbed into the front seat. God, I’d missed her, and I hadn’t realized how much until she was here. My filming schedule had kept us away from each other for months at a time, but I was usually so busy, I didn’t notice how long I was gone.

  That wasn’t the case now.

  Every day felt like an eternity.

  I drove us to my building, and I brought her straight upstairs. She dropped her purse on the floor in the entryway, her suitcase right in front of it, and she walked over to the balcony. She stood in front of the glass, taking in the whole view, and then turned around to do a quick scan of the open space.

  “Girl, this place is sick.”

  She was right, and it looked much nicer than it had in the pictures Brett showed me. Everything in here was so clean and sparkly and white—the floors, the walls, even the furniture. The pop of color came from the artwork and the view. The entire back wall of the apartment was all windows, and that was what you saw first when you walked in the door.

  Some of the buildings across from mine were mirrored and shiny, and others were all white stucco, one even a light pink. Directly in the middle of the high-rises was a strip of ocean that was navy in the middle and teal where it neared the land.

  It was nothing like LA.

  But it was so beautiful.

  “Isn’t it?” I moved over to the couch where I spread across the whole corner and hung my legs over the side.

  She sat next to me, sticking her feet in my lap, and said, “You still have no idea how long you’re going to be here?”

  “You know I have my first event coming up, so I think Brett’s waiting to see how the media responds. If they boo me away from the camera, I’d say I’m going to be in Miami for a while.”

  “Oh, honey.”

  It had been a little over two weeks since the sex tape was leaked, and nothing had been resolved. The police still hadn’t found Calvin. They had gone to the hotel in Malibu where we’d stayed, and neither of us appeared in any of the footage. They had no record of Calvin in their system, and the room we’d stayed in was supposedly vacant the night we were there.

  All proof had completely vanished, and I didn’t think that was a coincidence.

  Calvin didn’t want to be found, nor did he want to be blamed for the video, and he was doing everything in his power to make sure that didn’t happen.

  So, for now, until more evidence was found or brought forward, the case was at a standstill.

  That killed me.

  “Be honest with me,” she said. “Are you hating it here?”

  I thought about her question. “No. I just don’t know anyone besides Brett, and it’s not like he hangs out with me or anything. My days consist of going to his office in the morning, doing the things he needs me to do, and then coming back here. I work out in the gym upstairs. I go to the pool. That’s it.”

  The time I did spend with Brett wasn’t exactly filled with warmth, and there really wasn’t any small talk. We discussed plans and business and upcoming roles he thought I would be good for, but the timing to try out wasn’t right.

  He was distant but professional—a side of him I respected. I just wished he would give me more.

  Of course, more would mean crossing a boundary, and I knew he didn’t want that.

  “You do have a killer tan.” She held her arm next to mine, and my skin was several shades darker than hers. “It’s sorta like you’re on vacation.”

  “One I wish I had chosen and not been forced to take.”

  She propped
her arm on the back of the couch and rested her cheek against her palm. “You’re in Florida. It’s hot and sunny, and there are sexy people everywhere. I would say there are much worse gigs than this.”

  She was trying to be positive where I was so negative.

  But she had a point. This break gave me some time to relax, something I hadn’t done much of in the last year. It gave me a chance to watch lots of movies and read and workout. It allowed me to get settled in my new apartment.

  And it gave me time to think about what I really wanted, which was to be on a movie set. I knew that now more than ever.

  “Show me the schedule Brett’s team put together for you.”

  I took out my phone and looked through my emails until I found the one that detailed the next several weeks. Each event was broken down by date with a full description of what the event was for, the dress code, the location, sponsors, and any high-profile people who would be attending.

  “So, you have a gala along with several cocktail parties. Four charity events and a polo match.” She glanced up. “Polo?”

  I shrugged. “I guess it’s a thing here.”

  “Okay…” She paused but kept her eyes on me. “You know, there is something extremely erotic about men riding horses while holding long sticks.”

  I laughed.

  “The real Debbie Downer is that we have to make you look appropriate, which means pastels and capris and a sweater tied around your shoulders.”

  “Sounds like something Brett would approve of.”

  She rolled her eyes. “My goal is to have Brett approve everything.” She pointed at the screen and counted each of the events. “I’d say ten to twelve dresses—a few of those formal—a light-pink paisley ensemble, and some casual outfits will get you by for now. If you need more, that will give me an excuse to come visit sooner.”

  Eve had been my stylist for years. When it came to clothes, I trusted her more than anyone. That was why, after we’d returned to Miami from LA, I’d begged Brett and his team to let her dress me for the events. They had requested a phone interview and for Eve to submit her portfolio, and she’d done both. Just yesterday, they’d given her their approval, but under one stipulation—they wanted her in Miami to get started immediately.

  She was here less than twenty-four hours later.

  “Do you have to leave to go shopping?”

  She had a surprised look on her face. “Leave you? Oh no. I pulled clothes in LA, and they’ll be here tomorrow morning. There are a few more things I need, so I’m going to call my assistant and have her ship them overnight. Now, there’s just one more thing I have to take care of.”

  She took out her phone and tapped the screen, holding it to her ear. “Hi, Rachel. It’s Eve Kennedy. I’m in town. I have a client who’s attending a polo match in a few weeks, and I think several pieces from your new line would be perfect.” She paused. “Yes, I would love that.” She put her hand over the speaker and whispered, “What’s the name of this building?”

  “The Jewel,” I said softly.

  “Please have them delivered to The Jewel, attention to Eve in unit ten-fourteen.” She paused again. “I’ll have my assistant follow up with payment information and sizes. Thank you.” She set her phone down. “Polo gear will be here tomorrow, and while we’re at the pool, I’ll call my assistant to coordinate the rest.”

  “I seriously love you.”

  “This is why we need to get your ass back to LA because living there without you is all kinds of wrong.” She got up from the couch and grabbed my hand, pulling me off and leading me toward the bedroom. “We need bikinis and cocktails. Right now.”

  18

  Brett

  I took the private elevator down to the lobby of my building to pick up the pizzas Max and I had ordered. He’d been traveling for the last week, and this was the first time we had a chance to hang out, so he wanted to do dinner and watch the Heat game at my place.

  As I went around the corner of mailboxes and past the doorman’s desk, I saw James walking into the building.

  Fuck.

  She was only a few feet from me, and my eyes took in her small black bikini and the see-through cover-up she was wearing over it. I wished I hadn’t because, the second my stare landed on that tight, perfect body, my dick started to harden in my sweats. My hands twitched to touch her. My mouth watered to taste that delicious cunt.

  “Brett?” she said, halting in front of me—a spot I’d hoped she’d avoid and go straight to the elevator instead. “What are you doing here? Were we supposed to meet or something?”

  Scarlett had said the chances of us running into each other would be slim.

  She couldn’t have been more fucking wrong.

  “That’s Brett?” the girl standing next to her said. “As in, the Brett?”

  The girls looked at each other, and James’s eyes widened, as though she were trying to silently say something to her.

  Jesus Christ.

  I turned toward the girl and extended my hand, knowing it was James’s stylist who had flown in from LA. She had on almost the same bathing suit as James and looked great in it but not as good as James. And, even though she was really attractive, she wasn’t as beautiful.

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “You, too. I’m Eve.”

  Behind the girls, I saw the doorman take the pizza boxes from the delivery driver, and he came over to hand them to me in exchange for the fifty I had taken out of my pocket.

  “Why are you getting food delivered to my building?” James asked as my attention returned to her.

  “It’s my building, too.”

  Her eyes widened even more. “You’re kidding.”

  “No.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you lived here?”

  I reached inside the box, grabbing a slice of pepperoni, took a bite of the end, and swallowed. “Would it have changed your mind?”

  She opened her mouth, but nothing came out of it.

  As though Eve were reading her, she cleared her throat and said, “I have all of James’s outfits planned for her upcoming events. Why don’t you come over, so you can approve or nix the dresses?”

  “Eve,” James said, hitting her friend’s arm, “I’m sure Brett’s too busy to come over.”

  If that meant seeing some sexy dresses on the body I’d been thinking about nonstop, then I wasn’t too busy.

  “Nah, I think that’s a good idea.” I took another bite. “I’ve got Max upstairs. I’ll grab him, and we’ll come down to your place.”

  “Who’s Max?”

  “One of the other agents,” James said to Eve. Then, she asked me, “Are you really coming over?”

  I nodded. “You hungry, or should we eat before we come?”

  “We’re hungry,” Eve answered.

  James looked at Eve again. “I guess we’re hungry.”

  I could tell James still hadn’t gotten over the shock that we lived in the same building. Hell, I hadn’t gotten over how fucking perfect she looked in that bikini.

  But it seemed she wore that expression almost every time I was around her—whether it was in my office or when I’d rejoined her on the plane after my long nap.

  She was struggling with the transition.

  I was, too.

  I’d been rubbing one out almost every morning in the shower and again when I got home from work. Sometimes, when she came in for a meeting, I’d even do it in the bathroom in my office after she left. And I would once more tonight after I saw her in those dresses.

  “I’ll be at your place in a little while,” I told them.

  Then, I headed toward my elevator, waving the fob in front of the reader and pressing the PH button as I got inside.

  When I stepped into my condo, Max was on the couch, watching the Heat game.

  “Get up. We’re going to James’s.”

  In the kitchen, I grabbed a twelve-pack, knowing she probably didn’t have any beer at her place, and carried it into the living r
oom. The motherfucker still hadn’t stood, but he’d turned off the TV, and he was staring at me.

  “What?”

  “Why the fuck are we going to James’s?”

  “I just saw her downstairs with her stylist, and they need my approval on some outfits.”

  “And what am I? A chaperone?”

  I didn’t want to tell Max I had been doing everything I could to keep my hands off James and that having him there would ensure I didn’t touch her.

  “You’re the fourth wheel.”

  “Not interested.”

  “Her stylist is hot as fuck. Trust me, brother.”

  “Now, I’m interested.” He got up and took the boxes out of my hand. “It surprises me that you let the realtor move James into your building.”

  “Why?”

  “You won’t even bring the women you fuck back to your place because you don’t want them to know where you live, but you’ll let James be a neighbor.”

  “It’s different.”

  He smiled and laughed as we walked into the elevator, and I hit the button for James’s floor.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Something tells me you didn’t mind running into her.”

  “Jesus, don’t start with me.”

  First, Scarlett, and now, Max. The only one left was Jack, and I was sure he would have said something similar if he were here and not on the road with one of his clients.

  Max kept laughing and shook his head. “I’m not starting shit. I’m just saying, if a girl who looked like James lived in my building, I wouldn’t exactly be pissed off about it. But you’re not me, and going down to her apartment isn’t you.”

  “She’s my client.”

  “So, that makes this different? If anything, it should make it worse.”

  “It makes her off-limits.” I’d been facing the door, but now, I turned toward him. “We’re going to her place to see some dresses. That’s it.”

  “Something you could do in the office.”