Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
“Fuck, no. Do you think I’d be this normal if I had? I grew up in Cobb Valley, Ohio, a town with a population of, oh, about two thousand.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. Most of my classes in high school had about ten kids total.” He laughs. “And down the street from my house, there was a drugstore with an honest-to-God malt shop in the back. I’m not making this up.”
Hearing Ben talk about his hometown warms my heart. It amazes me that he can talk so unpretentiously about his roots. But I’m also feeling some discomfort now, because being attracted to him is one thing, but getting to know him? Learning about his childhood and chuckling about the malt shop down the street? Telling him about my dismal upbringing? It’s too…intimate.
“Can I get you anything to drink?”
I nearly fall out of my seat at the sound of the sugar-sweet female voice. I wasn’t aware there was anybody else on board aside from the pilot, and the sudden appearance of a petite blonde in a stewardess uniform makes me wonder who else is hiding in the back of the jet. G Pimp himself?
“I’ll take some coffee, please.” Ben glances over at me. “Do you want anything, babe?”
I blush. Does the flight attendant know who Ben is? Probably. And he just babe’d me, right there in front of the woman.
Ugh. She probably thinks I’m his latest piece of arm candy.
“I want…to use the bathroom,” I blurt out, knowing my cheeks have turned crimson all over again.
This entire situation is too surreal for me. The private jet, the movie star, the fact that I’m really starting to like the movie star.
Again, way too intimate.
I scurry out of my seat and give the stewardess a fake smile before hurrying toward the lavatory sign at the end of the aisle.
Inside the surprisingly roomy bathroom, I flop down on the closed toilet seat—also a gaudy gold color—and rake both hands through my hair. God, this is so unlike me. How could I have just shoved all my responsibilities aside and agreed to this silly trip? Yeah, I have the day off from work tomorrow and a week-long chicken-pox-induced vacation from the youth center, but think of all the homework I could get out of the way.
Instead, I allowed Ben to whisk me away to…to where? I still have no clue where we’re going, and that only bothers me more. I’m not cut out for life without plans and schedules, for spur-of-the-moment decisions and Hollywood actors who make my heart race.
I’ve seen all those pictures on the web. Ben with a Brazilian supermodel. Ben with a gorgeous soap star. Ben at the Golden Globes. Ben doing the late-night talk-show circuit.
The man is a star. A hot, womanizing star. He has the looks and the money to make anyone with a pulse drool at his feet, so why is he hanging around with a waitress from Manhattan?
It can’t be the thrill of the chase, because truth be told, he’s already caught me. He’s already broken down my defenses by luring me on this mysterious vacation.
What more can he possibly want?
Before I can attempt to come up with an answer, the door handle clicks and Ben strolls in, oblivious to the stunned look on my face.
I stumble to my feet. “What are you doing? What if I was peeing?”
“You weren’t,” he replies with a shrug. “And if you were, you should’ve locked the door.”
“Because I assumed that all normal, polite people understand that a closed door means knock. What are you doing in here?”
“You were taking too long. I was worried you were scheming to find a way to ditch me when we land.”
“I wasn’t scheming. I was musing.”
“About me?”
“No.” The lie fills the lavatory, but before Ben can call me on it, I curl my fingers over my hips and don my best I-mean-business expression. “We need to get a few things straight.”
“Oh, do we?”
He steps closer, and suddenly the bathroom isn’t as roomy as I thought. It’s tiny. Oppressive. So tiny and oppressive that Ben’s big sexy body is about two inches away from mine, and his stubble-covered chin hovers over my forehead, his warm breath heating the top of my head. And any second now, the growing tent in his jeans is going to poke me in the belly.
It’s too tempting, being in an enclosed space with this man.
Being anywhere near him, for that matter.
“We need to set boundaries,” I manage to say despite my desert-dry throat.
He licks his bottom lip. “I don’t like boundaries, Red.”
“I’m sure you don’t, but we still need some. I need to know you’ll keep your end of the bargain.”
“I don’t remember any bargains being made.” His voice grows rough as he eliminates another inch between us. Now his erection presses against my navel, empirically proving that belly buttons can indeed get turned on.