Bottom line—they worked for a man who all the guys wanted to be, and every woman wanted to sleep with. Perfect.
It was natural that Caroline would have stars in her eyes. She was twenty-one years old and new to Tinseltown. Paige remembered what that was like. She’d been just twenty-two when she’d first arrived, but not as a starstruck kid.
In her case, she’d been at the jumping off point in a promise she’d made to herself. She’d decided that after graduation, she’d take a year to try something different. After acing four rigorous years at Cornell University, she walked away with a management degree that positioned her incredibly well for almost any industry. She had chosen courses to hone her skills in leadership, human resources, business law, entrepreneurship, and even intercultural-global business communication. She could mobilize resources like a queen bitch. In short, thanks to an incredibly expensive education, she, Paige Marie Turner from a little redneck mud fest in the boondocks, was set to tackle anything thrown her way.
With her parents’ blessing, she emptied her dorm room, packed everything she could into her aging Nissan, and, within thirty-six hours of taking off her cap and gown, was MapQuesting her way west. All the way west. To Los Angeles, California. The City of Angels—with no idea what was next for her.
She enjoyed thinking back on those early days. Back when all that she took for granted today was new and exciting. A planner by nature, Paige disliked flying by the seat of her pants, so she gave herself ten days to freak out and act like a typical tourist. Get it out of her system so she could concentrate on the work before her—finding a job and a new life.
Managing on a shoestring budget in the outrageously expensive town presented endless challenges but luck had been on her side. She'd been in the right place at the right time to land a studio apartment in the Valley that she rented on the cheap.
God, she had loved that apartment. Situated on the top floor of a two-story complex shaped like a crooked U, her front window had looked out over the pool in the courtyard and the bougainvillea and palm tree-lined driveway. To Paige, it had been a slice of heaven.
And that was where she’d first encountered Gideon; only he wasn’t called that at the time.
There was nothing more enjoyable than yanking Paige’s chain.
Hmm. Well, maybe that wasn’t entirely accurate. He also enjoyed animal videos. The funnier, the better. His all-time favorites were of a smiling kitten sliding on its back across a polished floor. And another of a huge Great Dane, who must’ve thought he was the size of a handbag, trying to squeeze into a child’s car seat. That shit never failed to make him laugh.
But when it came to fucking with Paige? Practically his favorite pastime.
He knew she was somewhere in his trailer the second the door flew open and the unmistakable scent of soap and mint filled the air. Those two things had made an impression on him the very first time he’d ever spoken to her.
The years since had been a whirlwind, but she’d stuck by his side. Over time, as their relationship had deepened, she became his closest friend and ally. In a town where your entourage mattered, his consisted of an enigmatic country girl with a fancy degree who made others green with envy. Never without an endless supply of Wintergreen Breathsavers stuffed in every pocket, bag, and center console, she was his most trusted assistant … and the only person besides his family who knew the real man behind the movie star image.
Oh, yeah. And Caro was part of the entourage, only she didn’t actually know him. Her part in his crazy world was as someone with absolute integrity who willingly took a blood oath to serve him faithfully all the days of her life and essentially be his number one groupie. He wasn’t so full of himself that he didn’t recognize the charity of her adoration, always making sure to consider her feelings and talents.
He might be the one in the spotlight, but he knew that Paige was the real star. Her drive and the fact that she had more in the way of balls than half the people he knew had done more to shape his movie career than his acting had.
After six years of working side by side, Paige and he were a formidable duo. During that time, he went from being a pool guy to earning insane sums of money for taking off his shirt, playing bang-bang shoot ‘em up, and nailing his sexy leading lady co-star. She easily finished his sentences, diplomatically dismissed a bedmate five minutes past her welcome, and micromanaged his agent without the crazed dynamo realizing she was playing him. He also asked her to weigh in on every project passed his way.
Paige Turner was unique, and no, he didn’t hesitate to chuckle at her ironic sounding name. Thank god she was eye-rollingly used to it.
She was also indispensable, and that should have been the end of it if for no reason other than that the woman worked for him. The thing was, though, that he was more than just a little in lust with her. Not that she knew it, of course.
Maybe that was why it was such fun messing with her at every opportunity. If he couldn’t have her naked and dripping with arousal—pinned to a bed by his dick while she cried out his name—he’d find his release in other ways. Jacking her up for the hell of it then jumping feet first into her reaction and holding on for a wild ride was always a good time.
He was a visual kind of a guy. Instead of reading directions, he preferred to see a picture of the end product. Picking simple paint colors required a half a dozen samples for him to consider, one by one. When choosing a part, it wasn’t unusual for him to meditate visually. It was just his way; so, basically, he eyeballed his assistant morning, noon, and night because she was a vision worth getting lost in.
As Caro driveled on about ice cream and who the fuck knows what else, he slapped an expression of faux interest on his face when really, he was watching Paige’s every move.
She’d moved to the far side of the long trailer standing with her back to them as she flipped through the impressive satellite entertainment system in his luxe Star Waggon. He had to admit that the sleek, modern on-set home that Paige insisted be part of his contract was remarkable. It was a far cry from the Triple Banger that he and two other actors had squeezed into when he’d started out. Yeesh, he remembered that those things were little more than holding pens. As he took the plate Carolyn pressed into his hands, he settled against the edge of the counter and absently picked at the frozen treat while Paige’s pink-haired assistant talked nonstop. He was okay with the steady stream of twaddle; it gave him the chance to study the backside of the woman across the room who was deliberately ignoring him.
Having no useable knowledge of women’s fashion besides the ability to differentiate between pants and a dress, he studied Paige’s outfit. It was fine, he guessed. I mean, what the fuck did he know? One of the best goddamn perks of being a movie star was the endless parade of wardrobe, stylist, and makeup pros who maintained the Gideon Shaw mystique. And a good thing, too.
Four years in military issue uniforms had wiped out whatever slim sense of fashion or presentable grooming he’d acquired before that time, something his mother would happily confirm. That shitty war burned all that nonsense right the hell out of him. Something about motherfuckers trying to blow your ass up morning, noon, and night didn’t leave room for worrying about what shirt went with which pants.
This did not however mean that he couldn’t appreciate a well-dressed woman.
In a style best described as an original from the Don’t-Give-a-Fuck-Because-I’ll-Goddamn-Wear-What-I-Want collection, her top was a plain blue and white striped button shirt that was boring as fuck. It was an effect he knew was intentional on her part. Rolling the sleeves to just below her elbows gave the outfit a casual air. So did the multiple bracelets and bangles on each arm.