Star Crossed (36 page)

The tip rested there, pulsing, summery, causing her arousal to well up around it.

She touched his breastbone, and a second later he touched hers. Her heart was pounding too. She wanted him inside her, but she loved him exactly where he was.

We
are
meant to be
, she thought.

Maybe he read her mind. He smiled again and pushed in, in, in until he filled and stretched every inch of her slick passage. She sighed with pleasure, the small of her back arching. He pushed his hand beneath her bottom. She dragged her knees up his sides.

When he began to thrust, they groaned in unison.

He made love to her in surges. No words. No worry. Just the beat of their bodies drawing back and rocking together.

When the small sounds she made grew higher, he yanked her arms above her head.

She loved the sense that he was taking control of her, the simple wrap of his fingers on her wrists enough to turn her need frantic. They rocked together quicker, more forcefully. Luke was shoving in to both their limits, each thrust rubbing extra pressure into her sensitive upper wall. His breathing was ragged, his muscles taut. A.J. cried out and strove with him.

His open mouth dropped to her shoulder.

He was panting with urgency. She sensed him straining not to go before her. She turned her hands so she could hold his trapped as well.

This must have pushed good buttons. He groaned, hoarse and arousing. His muscles gathered as he suddenly heaved up onto straight arms. Their fingers wove together, his weight bearing down on her palms. He didn’t shift off them. He knew she could handle everything he gave her. Their gazes locked. She saw decision flick through his.

His hips drew back, the drag of his cock teasing every nerve in her quivering sheath.

Then he let loose and hammered her.

The sensation was overwhelming. This was what it felt like to be taken. Luke was so hard, so long as he plunged in and out. He worked her like he’d go insane if he couldn’t come that second. A.J. understood completely. Her walls constricted around him, greedily squeezing against his cock’s smooth friction. She wanted all of him, wanted him never to stop pumping inside her. Luke sucked in air, and her orgasm detonated. He was coming. He reared back. His groan of ecstasy burned her ear. She clutched him tight with her legs and arms.

“
Yes
,” he gasped, one little word that pushed her over the brink again.

She arched up and flew.

Coming back to earth a minute later wasn’t bad, since she landed there with him. They tidied and Luke pulled the nice sheets up. She didn’t hesitate to snuggle into him. His chest was a hard but pleasant pillow. He grunted as she settled, his fingers combing through her short hair.

When he sighed—a satisfied, happy sound—she rubbed her cheek against him.

“Tell me,” he said, “what do you think about Vancouver?”

“Um, it’s rainy?” This couldn’t be an idle question so she tried again. “I hear they have nice parks.”

“They have beautiful parks.” He wriggled into a more comfortable position. “I’m thinking of shifting operations there from LA. It’ll be a while before the furor over all that’s happened dies down here. I’d rather concentrate on enjoying life than on the hordes of reporters camped out on my doorstep.”

“Too much attention even for you?”

She was teasing, but he answered seriously. “Way too much. Plus, Vancouver would fit as a location for the arty horror film I finally sold Kevin on. The more I think about how we could pull that project off, the more I’m chomping at the bit to start.”

“You don’t want to do another
Final
movie?”

“Not right now. I guess we’ll come back to the franchise eventually. Those films do great box office, but I feel like I need a break.”

A.J. pushed up on her elbow to look at him. “What about Christie? Will you use her in the next installment?”

“I don’t know. She’s self-absorbed and obsessive, but that’s true of a lot of folks in the industry. On the other hand, maybe she and I have picked up too much baggage as a fictional couple. Pairing us again on screen could overshadow the story.” He frowned. “I don’t know. I need distance before I can decide.”

“That seems reasonable,” A.J. said carefully.

His gaze focused on her again. He lifted one eyebrow. “You’re not going to throw in your two cents?”

“Who you work with is your concern. I might not like Christie, but it seems that apart from being slightly nuts, she’s not an actual threat to you. That’s the only thing that would make her my business.”

He smiled as if she’d answered a question she hadn’t known he’d asked.

“Were you testing me?”

“Not on purpose, though I like knowing you’ve moved past thinking of me as a lost lamb.”

She vaguely remembered calling him that after their initial night together. She wagged her head in disbelief. “Your memory . . .”

“‘Lost lamb lothario’ was your precise phrasing.”

She laughed. “I had a way with words back then.”

He pinched her chin fondly, unoffended by her humor. “I have another question. If I shift to Vancouver, would you join my security team? You’d be second in command at first. The guy heading it up now is thinking of retiring. Movie security is different from executive protection but not completely. I think you’d find it challenging enough that you wouldn’t be bored.”

She looked at him. The idea intrigued her—as he must have guessed it would. “You’ve thought this through.”

“I want you to be happy. And not just when you’re with me.”

Her eyes stung, so she blinked rapidly. A sense of her own good fortune washed over her. Luke didn’t want to turn her into arm candy. He was prepared to let her be herself.

“I’d consider that opportunity seriously,” she said.

She wasn’t trying to be funny, but he chuckled. “Good.” He coaxed her down to his side again. “I’ll arrange for you and the current chief to take each other’s measure.” He grinned at some private joke. “I anticipate him being impressed with my candidate . . .”

LUKE knew it wasn’t PC to be glad, but
Final Death
had a very good first weekend. This was thanks in part to Detective Turner and his Friday morning press conference. Before a packed crowd of press, he announced the LAPD had closed the case. He didn’t literally claim they solved it, just made that easy to assume.

To heap insult on injury, he thanked “action star, Luke Channing” for his “invaluable assistance”—while omitting a single mention of Hoyt-Sands Security.

A.J. shrugged when Luke took offense on her behalf. “That’s the way it works. Our firm does business here all the time. We need to stay on the police’s good side more than they need to stay on ours.”

“And you call me forgiving,” he muttered.

As he’d anticipated, media interest exploded following the announcement. Neighbors to Wilhelmina and Sven swore they’d known something was up with the partners.
She yelled at him like a fishwife
, one interviewee said.
Always scolding him for this and that. I felt sorry for the man
. Wilhelmina’s famous clients were no shyer about grabbing their share of camera time.
Very sad
, they opined sagely.
It just goes to show you never know what’s going on in other people’s minds
.

Everyone professed to be grateful Luke was unharmed. Probably they were, but it made him glad they’d be decamping to Canada.

His new, non-live-in PA was green but so far had survived her personal Hell Week fobbing off barrages of interview requests. Now and then Luke missed Eliza’s efficiency. Even he, however, wasn’t soft enough to forget she’d spied on him. Word of her duplicity must have gotten out. He’d heard from Jerry she’d come up empty finding a new celebrity employer. Initially, he’d thought Christie James might hire her. Because this hadn’t happened, he concluded the actress had other means of guaranteeing the girl’s silence. If those means didn’t include cold cash, this probably boded a
Nanny Diaries
tell-all about her and Luke down the road. That was the Hollywood way. Though Luke didn’t relish the prospect, he wasn’t quaking in his boots either.

The person whose opinion mattered most already knew everything about him.

Naomi took it upon herself to mention A.J.’s role in saving Luke from Wilhelmina to her multitudinous social media followers. Ostensibly, she did this out of gratitude for her friend being alive. In reality, her intent was squelching resentment among a certain section of Luke’s fans over anyone marrying their heartthrob. “You’re welcome,” she said when she called to warn him she’d done it. “Consider it an early wedding gift.”

Luke conceded it was better than a blender.

To his relief, he and A.J. reached a compromise on the wedding without too big a battle. He’d known before he broached the topic that she wouldn’t agree to the three-ring circus most celebrities chose for starting their marriages. Despite bracing himself, he wasn’t prepared for the modesty of her plan.

“I want a justice of the peace,” she said in her firmest don’t-even-think-about-arguing tone. “No zillion dollar ceremony, no paparazzi taking shots from hot air balloons. My mom’s a lawyer out here. She has contacts. She can arrange for us to be married on the down low.”

A justice of the peace sounded grim to Luke. He wanted to celebrate their union, to let the whole world know he was happy.

He crossed his arms before responding. “You can have your dusty courthouse wedding if I can throw a party. A big one. Like with actual fireworks.”

She frowned at him, and he frowned back. “Fine, but—”

“No buts,” he countered. “We’re filing this party under ‘My Business.’”

He’d chosen the magic words. Her expression struggled but she gave in. Sort of. Her chin thrust out stubbornly. “I’m picking the dress I get married in.”

“As long as my ring is on your finger, you can wear your damned bodyguard outfit.”

*

A.J. didn’t expect the butterflies that fluttered in her stomach on the day of the wedding, but they definitely were there. Her mom had helped her shop for her dress, which was an ivory cross-fronted Balenciaga with sheer as a whisper sleeves. The hem was calf length and—at her mom’s insistence—the shoes were Louboutins. Keeping her ankles straight required concentration, but according to Valerie Hoyt, God willing, her daughter would only marry once. For a man like Luke, A.J. ought to be willing to put an effort in.

Not unexpectedly, A.J.’s mother had developed a mom-crush on Luke Channing.

Her dad was warier, but his nature wasn’t as effusive. He was like A.J. that way. Politeness he’d give for free. Trust he only offered once it was earned.

She and Luke rode in an unobtrusive Hoyt-Sands hire car to the courthouse. Before they got out, Luke handed her a white florist’s box.

“Bouquet,” he said with a grin.

She opened the lid gingerly. The scent of old-fashioned roses immediate wafted out. The blooms were peach and cream with fat white hydrangeas tucked between. The effect was lush and showy and—she
would
have said—not at all her style. In spite of this, she touched the petals with the back of her eyes pricking.

She loved them ridiculously.

“They’re beautiful,” she murmured. “And they go perfectly.”

“I thought you wouldn’t mind looking a bit bride-like. Since you picked a white dress and all.”

He’d been repressing it, but his grin broke out. He knew exactly what her fancy duds signified.

Unable to deny it, she cupped his face and kissed him. “I’m so proud to be marrying you. I hope you know that even if we’re doing this quietly.”

His breathtaking eyes grew shiny. “I know. Me too.”

They went up the courthouse steps hand in hand.

Valerie Hoyt had arranged for a judge she knew to marry them in his chambers after hours. Luke’s parents were waiting in the hall outside as they arrived. This was A.J.’s second time meeting them, the first having been at a dinner for both families. Frank and Sonia were quite attractive, in a real person way. Luke hugged them and she did too.

Luke’s mom, who was soft-spoken and seemed shy, handed her a brooch in the shape of a turtledove.

“For something borrowed,” she explained. “In case you believe in that. It belonged to Luke’s grandmother.”

A.J. accepted it carefully. She wasn’t superstitious, but she’d be damned if she’d admit that in front of this obviously sweet woman.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m honored to wear it.”

Luke helped her pin it on. His mouth was curved as he worked—as if he were aware of and appreciated her self-restraint.

“The judge is still getting ready,” Frank informed them, his arm protective around his wife’s shoulders. “I think he was held up on the golf course.”

Luke’s dad was like him: gregarious and charming. His eyes were the same light green, his hair brightened by the same gold streaks—though A.J. suspected his came from working under the actual sun. He had more smile lines than his son. More worry lines as well.

They’ve been through it
, she reminded herself,
no matter how apple pie they look
.

“Neither of my folks have arrived?” she asked.

“Not so far, dear,” said Sonia.

A.J. bit her thumbnail. Her parents got along these days, generally, but they didn’t see each other that often. She hoped they weren’t squabbling on her wedding day.

Luke took the hand she was gnawing and kissed it. “They’re not late. We were early.”

She heard the giggling before she spotted them. It was a sound she hadn’t heard since she was a kid—usually right before being sent to her room with a stack of her favorite books.

Reading had been fundamental to her parents’ privacy.

“Oh My God,” she breathed in shock. “They totally hooked up.”

“What?” Luke’s head twisted around to see.

“Never mind,” she said, not wanting to get into it in front of his folks.

Hers came around the corner bumping shoulders like drunken teenagers. A.J.’s mom looked great in her tailored yellow dress—young enough to be a bride herself. She and Parker straightened when they saw they had witnesses.