“What?” I gripped her wrists. “What’s wrong?”
“Are you the Will Sutherland? With the smile that launched a thousand broken hearts? The guy behind the song Sutherland Sunset?”
I narrowed my eyes. “I hate you so much right now.”
“Quick, look at me for like one minute, look into my eyes Will Sutherland, we’re meant to be. I just know it!”
I didn’t laugh.
Instead, I did just what she suggested. “I think I just fell under your spell, hey are you the Angelica Greene? Child star turned teen diva? The girl who launched a thousand Abercrombie and Hollister ads with the flick of her wrist? Holy shit! Will you sign my T-shirt? Mom just ironed it tonight so…”
Her laughter lit up the cave like sunlight, warming me from the inside out. “Okay you win.” She was still laughing when I kissed her with every intention of finding out if her laugh tasted as beautiful as it sounded.
I suppressed a soft groan.
Better.
It tasted better.
My soul ached when she kissed me back with so much fervor I promised myself in that moment there wouldn’t be another girl for me.
Ever.
I’d chased her for a month.
Filmed with her for a little under two weeks.
And already.
I was gone.
I gave her my heart in that cave.
She took it without looking back.
And made eye contact with me the night she crushed it between her fingers.
I shook the memory and slammed the door behind me. Angelica flinched at my side.
“So, this is home for the rest of filming huh?” She moved past me and did a quick circle before facing me, hands on hips. “Where am I sleeping?”
“Not with me.”
“Wasn’t offering.”
I snorted. “And you think I was?” I shoved past her. “I’m not really into sharing. Besides… the drug and STD screenings still haven’t come through.”
She raised her hand in the air as if she was going to slap me.
I lifted my chin. “Do it. Wouldn’t be the first time a client wanted to hit me.”
Her nostrils flared. Eyes filled with tears.
And immediately I felt like shit.
Especially since she’d volunteered all of the above in order to get the job. It was one of Jaymeson’s rules.
She had to be clean.
And since she was kissing so many dudes, he wanted her to be clean in every possible way.
Plus, it was a reminder not to screw up.
And in Jaymeson’s words, a way to own her humbleness.
“Sorry.” It hurt like hell to form the word let alone release it into the space between us. “That was too far.”
She shook her head and took a step backward then sat down on the leather couch, it made a squishing sound.
Darkness enveloped the house.
What the hell had I been thinking? I should have hired a babysitter for her, not actually taken the job. I wasn’t going to make it out alive; I was already struggling breathing the same air, knowing her lips had tasted the same spaces that were hitting my body.
Damn, I was losing my mind.
“Hungry?” I nearly sprinted into the kitchen. “I had everything stocked for us. We’ll have someone come in once a week and re-stock, just make sure you write the housekeeper a note so she knows.”
“Not hungry,” Angelica finally said after a few seconds of silence. “I think I’ll just go to bed.” She stood. “Which room is mine?”
“The one next to mine.” I tried not to sound gruff, but it came out all wrong, like I was still pissed when I was just having a really hard time keeping my memories of her naked body on lockdown. What kind of horrible person had she turned me into?
I led the way down the hall, past the master, and flicked on the light in the largest of the guest rooms.
Angelica walked in past me. “Well at least I have all of my clothes.”
“Everything you brought is here.” I shrugged. “Your call time is five-thirty a.m. Get some sleep.”
I turned to leave, well aware of her footsteps behind me. I didn’t make it very far into the living room before I heard her yell.
“Where the HELL is my door?”
I smirked and waited.
She stomped down the hall. I turned.
Face redder than I’d ever see it, she thrust a finger in my direction. “Will this isn’t funny.”
“Do I look like I’m laughing?”
“Will!” She screeched. “I need a damn door!”
“So you can do drugs? Sneak out? Sneak people in?” I shook my head, “Hell no, you get no door. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t seen it all before — right?”
“You’re a sick bastard.”
“All right.” I stalked toward her. “But I’m the sick bastard who’s helping save your career. You get a door when you pass six weeks’ worth of drug tests and when I say door I mean one of those little bead things tween girls get that make noise every time you walk through.”