Captivate, book I of the Love & Lust (8 page)

“See. And that’s my point.” He frowns as he rubs the back of his neck. He doesn’t like where this is going… straight down the “Slade is a dick” road again. “She’s a girl. You’re a guy, and she was completely invisible to you. Are you starting to put the pieces together here, Sherlock?”

She sloshes her champagne around in her glass before taking another sip. “Ashlyn is like a sister and her opinion matters to me. Right or wrong, she said she thought you’d be perfect so I took her advice, and here you sit. I may have had to nudge her a bit into admitting it was the right decision, but she went to bat for you first.”

“So you didn’t think I would be a good fit for the role?”

Tamsin’s laughter sounds like the tinkling of glass during a toast. “You’re freakin’ hot. Of course you were perfect for the role.”

Her answer, although pleasing to hear, makes him feel a bit empty. “Thanks, I think.”

Her smile does something fierce to his insides as she leans forward, giving him an excellent view straight down her dress. That former emptiness melts away instantly as it turns to warmth pooling in his stomach. “So,” she purrs, placing her hand high on his thigh. “How about that walk?”

Slade watches her gaze drift over his broad chest and then fall lower. He can see a hunger in her eyes that he is all too familiar with. Letting his own gaze freely grace her hardly concealed curves, he feels himself nodding in agreement.

He holds out his hand to help her to her feet, realizing she’s a bit more unsteady than he thought. She loops her foot through her heels and bends over to retrieve them. Slade watches the curve of her spine as she dips low.

When she stands, she wraps his hand around her waist. His fingers dig into the supple flesh of her side and he closes his eyes against the heat stirring within.

Do I really want to get fired over this?
Glancing down at Tamsin, his stomach clinches as he realizes he’s more than prepared to kiss this job good-bye for a night with her.

The steps prove a bit too tricky for Tamsin so he lifts her into his arms and carries her into the house. Her head falls back over his arm, lengthening her neckline.

Slade’s breathing increases as his gaze slips beneath the fabric of her dress.
Bloody hell, I’m in trouble!

“Do you know which rooms are ours?” he asks, following the lead of one of the waiters. When they stop in front of a rich, wood-carved door, the man holds out a single key. “Just one?”

The man smiles, casting a quick glance over at Tamsin. “You have a lovely night, Mr. Collins.”

Slade sets Tamsin down on her feet and unlocks the door. It opens to reveal a stately suite. The walls are draped in gold. The four-poster bed is decked out in ornate, intricate detail work that screams of antique charm.

Tamsin crosses the room, her hips swaying seductively as he works to get the key out of the door. The metal skeleton key feels right at home in this grand old house.

“Got it,” he declares as he lifts the key for Tamsin to see. His mouth gapes open and his hand falls to his side.

Standing before him, Tamsin reaches behind her neck and unties the straps of her dress, letting them fall free to her waist. His eyes travel over her bared curves as she reaches up and pulls the clips from her hair. The silken tresses fall about her shoulders as the vixen returns.

“Close the door, Slade.”

He nods numbly as he kicks the door closed with his foot. He watches as she slowly trails her fingers down her neck, over the curve of her hip, and down to her waist. When she wiggles her hips, her dress flutters to the floor and he realizes he’s not about to get to sleep any time soon.

Ten

Ashlyn watches Slade from the corner of her eye. His heavy snoring isn’t what annoys her. Her noise-cancelling headphones have helped greatly with that. No, it’s the fact that for the past four hours of this international flight, he’s had his sunglasses plastered to his face, with the shield down over his window.

She should have known Tamsin would talk him into going out to party. Two nights in a row is nothing for her. She’s used to staying up until dawn, catching a few hours of sleep, and then popping out of bed in time to look stunning in front of the cameras.

Slade, on the other hand, is a newbie to this lifestyle and the consequences are obviously starting to kick in.

Her work ethics might differ greatly from Ashlyn’s, but Tamsin gets the job done and that’s all that matters. There’s a lot riding on the success of
Ender’s Betrayal.
It’s the final book of Tamsin’s three-book deal, and if there is any chance of her extending that deal, this book needs to explode off the shelves.

Glancing over at Slade, she wonders for the thousandth time if they made a terrible mistake. Even though he looks the part and Tamsin claims he was perfect at the book launch party two nights ago, Ashlyn still has her doubts. And those doubts need to be voiced before they arrive in L.A.

She leans across the aisle to poke him in the side. He stirs and grunts before rolling away. She frowns, thankful that at least he’s no longer snoring like a freight train.

Even in first-class accommodation, the airline seats are far from comfortable. She can’t figure out how he’s managed to sleep as deeply as he has.

Ashlyn has never slept on one of these flights. She’s not particularly comfortable with being forty thousand feet in the air with zero control over her own fate. Sophie always has a speech prepared to give her the stats on how safe it is to fly compared to driving, but that usually goes in one ear and out the other when Ashlyn steps foot onto a plane.

The lunch cart came and went over an hour ago. She hardly managed to eat anything and if asked, she couldn’t begin to tell you how her meal tasted.

Within a couple of hours, the stewardess will return with a light snack before the plane lands in Chicago. Ashlyn isn’t looking forward to the three-hour layover before they board yet another plane bound for sunny California.

She can’t stand airports. The manic rush to get checked in followed by the sardine lines herding through security. Even being a first class flyer doesn’t mean you don’t stand in line. It’s just a tad shorter than the other, but no less uncomfortable.

On her trip to London a couple weeks ago, she nearly had a meltdown when she was pulled aside for a security check. The scanner actually flagged the young boy that went before her, but since the mother was harried with two small children, Ashlyn was chosen to endure the random spot check.

If only there were a tunnel connecting America with London. That would make her life infinitely more comfortable.

Slade’s loud snore wakes him with a start. He blinks, eyes widening when he finds her staring at him. He blows out a breath and rubs sleep from his eyes. “I gotta say, Ashlyn, no matter how I look at this, I’m a bit creeped out right now.”

“Likewise,” she says and turns back to her laptop. She flips off the page she was working on and switches to solitaire. She finds the old-school card game to be relaxing on international flights. It helps her decompress.

She’s been too stressed recently. The London expo went off without a hitch, but that’s only the first stop. So many things could still go wrong. Delayed flight, lost luggage, shipment of books misplaced… Ashlyn’s mind is a whirlwind of doubts.

Not to mention the pressure Sophie has had on her back for Tamsin’s book to perform. So far, all of the reviews have come back with four stars or above. Ashlyn is pleased with that response, but she’s still not sure it will be enough for Sophie to squeeze out another book deal.

What if Tamsin’s race to fame comes to an abrupt end?

Slade groans, stretching his arms over his head before sinking back down into his seat. “Rough night?” Ashlyn asks, selecting a two of clubs to shift three rows over without glancing at him.

“The party went late.”

She turns to look at him. “Why do I get the feeling there’s more to that statement you’re not sharing?”

He gives an innocent shrug and rubs his stomach. He leans over his armrest to search for a stewardess, but the aisles are empty. The on-flight movie has already begun and most people have settled into a mid-flight daze. “What’s a guy gotta do around here to get a decent meal?”

“Be awake when it’s time to eat,” she shoots back. Her eyes travel rapidly over the screen, the mouse following each movement.

“Are you always this cranky on long flights?”

Ashlyn sighs and closes the lid of her laptop before shifting around as far as the seat will allow her to face him. “No, but I can’t say that I’m all that thrilled to see you sporting a hangover or snoring through a day flight. It’s a good thing Sophie isn’t here or she might have put you on a flight straight back home.”

“I’m fine,” he says, opening his mouth as he yawns. “Just needed a catnap is all.”

She knows better than that. A catnap doesn’t make you sleep like the dead. Slade is obviously exhausted and for good reason.

“Just promise me you won’t go out tonight. I need you looking in top form for the signing.”

“You need me?” he questions, leaning over the armrest.

Ashlyn stiffens as he draws near. Lowering her gaze so she doesn’t get lost in his eyes, she scrunches up her nose. “You don’t have to make it sound quite like that.”

Slade laughs and sits back. He crosses his legs out in front of him and slouches low, tucking the pillow behind his head. “Maybe I like the way that sounds.”

She’s sure he can hear her gulp as she turns away and lets her veil of hair come between them. She fights to calm her breathing, but there’s nothing she can do about the hammering in her chest.
Did he really just say that? What does he even mean anyway? Am I reading too much into it?

These thoughts plague her over the next hour as Slade sweet talks a meal out of the pretty blond stewardess. She flips through one of the airline magazines, realizing she’s been stuck on the same page only when Slade begins to chuckle.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He crosses his arms over his chest. A smug grin tugs at his lips as he watches her out of the corner of his eye. “It’s just that I didn’t know you were so interested in self-cleaning cat pans.”

Glancing down at the book, Ashlyn groans when she sees the massive advertisement. She closes the magazine and stuffs it back into the elastic holder. “I’ve got a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

“Of course.” He nods. She can tell he’s struggling not to laugh at her.

“It’s true.” She protests.

“Oh, I’m sure it is. The life of a personal assistant to a famous big shot author must be tiring.”

Ashlyn purses her lips. “You’re mocking me.”

Slade grins and shifts to look at her. “Tell me something, do you buy into all of that stuff Tamsin writes.”

She frowns, unsure of what exactly he’s referring to. Obviously, Slade isn’t the most well-read person she’s ever met, and he doesn’t seem like the biggest romantic either, but he certainly seems to know a thing or two about putting women on edge, and
that
is something Tamsin loves to write about.

Reaching into the space beside his chair, Slade pulls out a copy of
Liam’s Betrayal.
The cover is bent in places and the pages rippled with slight water damage, but the binding has hardly been broken in. “I’ve read some of this book, and I don’t get it. Why do women like to read this rubbish?”

Ashlyn can feel her back teeth grinding. “It’s not rubbish. It’s a love story.”

He laughs as he sets the book in his lap. “A love story, huh? Well, there was certainly a lot of love happening in chapter three!”

Ashlyn’s mouth drops open. She tries to speak, to form some sort of coherent thought, but it’s impossible. She’s all too familiar with the elevator scene to which he refers in chapter three, and it is not one that she would like to hash out with him.

He must love torturing me,
she inwardly groans as she presses her hand to her forehead to check and see if she’s as flushed as she feels.

“Now don’t get me wrong.” He presses on, oblivious to her growing discomfort. “There was quite a lot about that scene that I enjoyed, but there was just something off about it.”

She glances over at him, surprised to see him actually mulling it over. “How so?”

He taps his chin before speaking. “This is marketed as a love book, but it seems more like a smut book. They meet, they shag like rabbits, and she moves on to the next guy. That’s not love.”

Ashlyn finds herself leaning toward him. “Go on.”

“Well…” He clears his throat. He averts his gaze and she wonders if this topic might not only be uncomfortable for her. “When I was growing up, my dad skipped out on us. He said, ‘I’m going out for a paper,’ and never came home. I watched my mom cry for months after that.”

His begins to tap his fingers against the book cover in his lap. “I used to lie awake at night wondering where he was, what he might be doing. It never dawned on me that he wasn’t coming back. Then, a few years later, we got word that Dad had filed for divorce so he could shack up with another lady and her kids. I don’t think Mum ever forgave him for it. I know I sure didn’t.”

“That’s awful,” Ashlyn whispers. She didn’t exactly have the best childhood either, but at least she never had a guy in her life to start with.

Slade’s fingers stop tapping as he grips the binding. “Before Dad left, I knew what real love was like. It meant picnics on Sunday after church as a family or fishing down at the quarry. Dad used to chase Mum around the kitchen table, swatting at her with a dishtowel, while he washed up after dinner. She used to have this glow about her that lit up her entire face…” He trails off, no longer looking at her, but beyond her.

“My mum used to be happy and I had the chance to see that, even if it was only for a few years.” He turns his gaze back onto her and she’s rocked by the depths of pain in his eyes. “This book isn’t about love. It’s about greed and sex, nothing more.”

Ashlyn doesn’t know what to say to that as he bends over and replaces the book. When he sits up, he finds her still staring at him. “Have you ever been in love?”

She blinks, shocked by the question. “No.”

“Me either.” He slowly unravels the wires that connect his earbuds to his iPhone. “But when I do, I hope I can make her smile just like my old man used to.”

As he plugs in his headphones, Ashlyn bites her lip as she wonders if he fears commitment because of his father’s faults. Is that where the chip on his shoulder stems from? Is he too afraid to let anyone in for fear of having them walk right back out on him?