The whole allergy pills incident still whirled around in her head. He may not have taken the meds just for her, but he was continuing to do so because of Muffin and that tugged at her heart.
Beyond that, she was relieved to see his unmistakable disapproval of drugs. She’d witnessed firsthand the ruin too much money could bring to people who snorted their wealth up their noses. “I moved here to the guesthouse a few years ago to live on my own. Of course it’s obvious I didn’t move too far away from my relatives.”
She’d made her big independent stand by moving across the lawn and redecorating the two-bedroom, one-story cottage in a shabby chic, Bohemian style totally at odds with the French Provincial formality of Hudson Manor.
She’d needed to step out of her very large family’s shadow, find her own style and voice. Right after moving in, she’d painted each room according to different moods. Blue ceilings to evoke the sky. Green-painted hardwood floors with sea-grass mats to ground her in the natural world. Her bedroom ceiling was dotted with stars. She’d even used a constellation map for accuracy but regretted that the night sky was permanently set to October. She made a home for herself rather than letting some decorator stamp his own personality onto her life.
Security lights flickered on as the sun drifted deeper into the horizon. Her childhood house loomed in the distance, a fifty-five-room white stone and wrought-iron mansion. Fifteen acres of sculpted landscape afforded plenty of privacy here.
Privacy with her whole big family all around. She eyed the lengthy garage in the distance and all the doors were closed. She tucked deeper onto the porch so a sprawling tree would block them from any curious eyes in the main house.
She stared up into Sam’s mesmerizing gray eyes, allowing herself a moment to just sink into their appeal. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For bringing me home, for the shopping trip in Paris, for clotheslining the reporter, for offering to come with me to the premiere, for taking allergy pills.” She stared down, scuffing her red heels along the stone step. “For respecting my stance on no more sex.”
“I respect your opinion, but make no mistake, that doesn’t mean I agree.”
She pressed a hand to his chest, his really hard and hot chest. “Hey, I mean it when I say I’m not going to invite you inside, not even for coffee.”
“I’m a man who stands by his word.” He picked up her hand and linked their fingers. “As much as I detest media attention, maybe if I feed the hungry press hounds for a few days they might get off my back.”
Since she intended to be an actress for as long as the industry would hire her, her life would be full of media frenzy indefinitely. Sam had made his feelings about the press known. Sure she wanted privacy at times, but she also appreciated the hand they played in helping her promote her work.
That put her lifestyle in direct conflict to his. She didn’t have to worry about him pressing for more. His short-term offer must be as genuine as it sounded.
Great news.
Right?
So why did it leave her wanting to squeeze his hand, yank him closer and steal up all the kisses she possibly could?
Her mouth dried and she forced herself not to moisten her lips. “Good luck with your new hotel.”
A hotel nearby in Los Angeles. A hotel that could bring him back again in the future… She stopped those thoughts short.
“Luck? Hard work makes luck more inevitable.”
“I like that.” She was actually finding she liked him and that was a dangerous thought to have while standing on her front stoop. Too easily this man could entice her to toss aside her intentions to keep him—any man—at arm’s length until her life settled back down again. “I spend a lot of time with diva sorts, male and female, who barely carry their own bottled water, much less a suitcase.”
Damn him for being so muscular and charming and enticing. What would it have been like to meet him before she’d made the mistake of falling for Ridley? Back during a time when she’d believed her parents had the perfect marriage and happily ever after was for real.
She would have invited Sam into her home, into her bed.
He leaned toward her as he’d done on the airplane. She’d wanted him then, wanted him even more now, a need made all the more painful because she knew just how good they could be together. Her body flamed in response, memories of champagne kisses still fresh in her mind. He angled closer—to open her door.
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