Wrapping the towel around my waist, I grab my iced Americano and take a sip. While my lips suck up the drink through the straw, my eyes soak in my assistant.
“Is that the dress I bought you?” The body-hugger is so short she should be arrested for indecent exposure.
“Actually, no. It’s something Jeffrey bought me.”
I cringe at the sound of his name on her lips. And at the thought that he buys her expensive, sexy presents. My eyes travel downward.
“Where are your shoes?”
She laughs. “I left them at his house.”
An unsettling thought smacks me. Is she going to move in with him? I falter trying to make more conversation.
“How was the rest of your evening?”
She sighs dreamily. “Fabulous.”
Seething inside, I fake a half-smile. “That’s good.”
No need for details. “What does your boyfriend do?”
“He’s in finance. He does really well.”
She’s seriously pissing me off. I take another sip of the coffee.
“Where does he work?”
“He’s a consultant. Self-employed.”
“What kind of car does he drive?”
“A Mercedes 560 SL convertible. Oh, and he also has a Range Rover.”
So, he’s very good looking and rich. And he dresses really well. Kill me now. Me, the sexiest man in the world, feels threatened by some no one.
“How long have you been together?”
“We met just before your accident.”
I do the math in my head. They’ve been together for only a few weeks. And she’s already sleeping with him.
She chimes into my thoughts like a mind reader. “It was love at first sight. You know what that’s like.” A hand flies to her mouth. “Whoops! I forgot you don’t remember meeting Katrina.”
I detect sarcasm in her voice. Anger rising, I press my lips tight together.
“What’s his last name?” I’m going to google the bastard. Find out everything there is to know about him.
“None of your damn business.”
Well, scrap that plan.
Without warning, she changes the subject. “Are you excited about your first day back on the set?”
Her question takes my mind off Jeffrey. “Yes. Very.”
“Are you cool with your lines?”
Once again, that memory of showering with her flashes into my head. I have the burning urge to shower with her again. But this time, clothes off. I want to caress her velvet flesh and savor all her sexy curves. I want to feel her skin against mine. All of it. Everywhere. My cock’s telling me to rip off her dress. Brain to Brandon: Get a grip! I tell her I’m good.
She quirks a smile. “Great. You’d better get going. Your call time is at eight. You don’t want to be late on your first day back.”
“Right.” My gaze stays fixed on her as she sashays toward the guesthouse. It’s like my eyes have X-ray vision. I can see that big, adorable heart-shaped ass right through the fabric of her skimpy frock. My cock twitches. It’s shouting out to me again. I silently give it a piece of my mind. Hey, buddy, lay off; taking off her clothes is someone else’s good fortune. Besides, I’m committed to Katrina. But I can’t silence my cock. My insatiable need for her pulses through my body. What the hell is wrong with me?
“Zoey, get undressed,” I shout out, my cock egging me on.
She stops dead in her tracks and spins around.
“Excuse me?” Her eyes burn into mine.
“You heard me. Get undressed…and put on something comfortable. You’re coming to the set with me.”
“But—”
“There are no buts when you work for me. I believe that’s in your contract.”
She screws up her face. Damn, she’s so cute.
“Asshole! I should have poisoned your coffee!”
Things are back to normal. And I’m back in control. There’s no way I’m letting her out of my sight. I’m going to tie up my feisty assistant if I have to.
My first day back on the set couldn’t start off better. The cast and crew are overjoyed to see me. In fact, before we start shooting, there’s a little welcome back party. Nothing big or fancy—just coffee and Krispy Kreme donuts for everyone. Boxes of them. Everyone’s in a great mood, including me.
“Have a donut,” I tell Zoey. “They’re killer good.”
Dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a Kurt Kussler sweatshirt, my adorable assistant, who’s been taking everything in, eyes me as I devour a chocolate one.
“I’m trying not to eat fattening things.”
“C’mon, you’re missing out.” I help myself to another—this time, glazed. Her big brown eyes are drooling. I’m mildly amused. “Zoey, it’s an order. Have one.”
“All right. Just one.” She chooses a cream-filled one. I watch as her full lips descend on it. She takes a whopping bite and the cream spurts out. It’s like the sugarcoated donut has had an epic orgasm. She moans and swallows. It’s so damn erotic. My cock flexes while she licks her upper lip.
“Hey, you missed a spot.” I flick my index finger along her lip and then lick off the little bit of cream on my fingertip. The sweetness mixes with berry flavor of her lip-gloss. I savor the taste of her. And want a second helping.
“Thanks,” she says softly and then polishes off the donut. “That was yummy.”
You’re yummy. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you to the producer.”
To my surprise, this is Zoey’s first time ever on the set. She’s like a little kid in a candy store—wanting to experience everything. Within minutes, she meets not only Executive Producer Doug DeMille but also my co-stars, Jewel Starr, who plays my late wife Alisha, and Kellie Fox, who plays my infatuated, devoted assistant, Mel. I haven’t told her the direction the show’s going—the way the season’s going to end with Kurt falling hard for Mel. Under strict orders from network production chief, Blake Burns, everyone who attended the focus groups agreed to keep it under wraps, even from the cast and crew, so the twist I came up with wouldn’t get leaked. In this world of social media, secrets are hard to keep.
Wide-eyed Zoey cannot contain her enthusiasm. She’s especially in awe of Jewel. “Wow! You’re even prettier in person!”
Clad in a bathrobe, her blond hair in curlers, Jewel’s blue eyes twinkle with laughter. “Not for long. I’m going to look like a drowned rat after shooting my scene with Brandon.”
“Oh my God. That shower scene was—I mean, is—so amazing. I can’t wait to see it for real.”
Before the gorgeous, slightly perplexed actress can respond, she’s whisked off to hair and makeup. The rest of the crew is scuttling about, prepping for the shoot. I’m more than glad I’ve brought Zoey along. Thanks to her insane memory, she’s able to put names and positions to almost everyone. I told her during our drive here that I wasn’t going to tell anyone about my amnesia. She thought that was a good idea and assured me she could help me identify most of the crew. She studied the file she put together and went over it again with me in the car. Thank goodness, I was able to retain the names of several key crew members, including the Director, the first AD, a couple of camera guys, hair and makeup, and some helpful PAs so I wouldn’t look like a total idiot.
Just after I finish my second donut, a young freckled-face woman, wearing a headset and carrying a clipboard, jogs up to me. She must be one of the PAs. Shit. I don’t remember her name. I shoot Zoey a desperate look. She mouths the PA’s name: Janine. She’s the no-nonsense type.
“Brandon, let’s get you into hair and makeup.”
“Zo, just hang out for a while,” I say, letting the PA lead the way.
Another female voice stops me in my tracks.
“Darling!”
I pivot. My body goes rigid. Katrina! Every muscle clenches. I’m still mad as hell at her. And in fact, I’m even madder. She’s brought the fucking mutt to the set.