Over-Exposed (Perspectives Book 2) Page 2

  “Only for you, Ev.”

  After a quick shower, she dressed and combed her wet hair into a tight bun. She made good time driving down the highway until she neared the exit, at which point cars were backed up for at least a mile. Her speedy, red BMW 320i crawled forward as the light at the end of the exit ramp cycled red... yellow... green... red... yellow... green... red. Fucking Atlanta traffic!

  Natalie didn’t even want to think about the look on her father’s face if she was late for this call. She speed-dialed Kari, who picked up on the first ring.

  “Hey, it’s me.” Natalie hated the automatic speakerphone in her car, but appreciated it now when she had both hands on the wheel in an angry death grip. She passed a couple television news trucks parked along a red curb and heard a helicopter whirring overhead.

  “Where are you? Everything’s ready. The conference room is all set up.”

  “Still in the car. Traffic’s more of a clusterfuck than usual. It’s not regular shooting-a-movie traffic. Think there’s a bad accident or something.”

  “Well, hurry. Oh, and hope you don’t mind, I’m watching from your office.”

  “I do mind. We can’t bill for looking out the window,” she said, but Kari had already hung up.

  A few minutes later, Natalie finally got off the exit ramp and went the long way around the maze of one-way streets that made up Midtown Atlanta. As she pulled into the back entrance of the parking garage, her phone alarm bleeped eight o’clock. Fuck!

  Her tires squealed as she sped up and down the levels, finding every last parking space was filled. She tried to call Kari, but should’ve known better than to hope for cell reception in the garage. As she reversed the car in an anger-fueled three-point turn, she heard a thump. Shit. Checking the rearview mirror, she saw nothing -- no cars, no cement columns. Whatever. She hoped Kari was able to stall the parties on the video conference...

  Suddenly, the door behind her flung open and someone jumped in, rocking the car. “Drive,” a deep voice ordered.

  “Oh my god. Just take the car.” She reached for the door handle, thankful she could run straight to her office, now, and maybe make it in time for the--

  “I don’t want the car. I want you to drive, lady!”

  “I’m late for a conference call!” Before she could push the door open, something hard pressed against the back of her head. She stiffened and slanted a glance toward the rearview mirror, but couldn’t see him since he was directly behind her.

  “You’re gonna have to reschedule. Drive the fucking car.”

  “Okay. Okay. Where do you want to go?” Her voice shook with panic. Dad’s gonna give me that disappointed look. Can’t believe this shit. What are the frigging odds?

  “Just get me out of here.”

  Natalie drove around and around the garage toward the exit, trying now and then to see him in her mirrors. As they stopped for the automatic gate to lift she made a move to open the door, but he tapped her skull with what she presumed was a gun barrel. A reminder, like she could ever forget it was there.

  “Don’t make me use this.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice shook a little. She hated that. “Which way should I go?”

  “Take me to your house.”

  “I don’t have a house.”

  He made an exasperated sound. “I assume you’re not homeless. Take me wherever the hell it is you live.”

  She drove a circuitous route through the slow-moving maze of Midtown, inching the car down the one-way streets and multiple Peachtrees that confounded even native Atlantans. For fuck’s sake, there’s never a police car when you need one...

  Her phone rang, startling her.

  Her passenger barked “Don’t answer it!” a half-second too late.

  “Sorry! It’s a reflex.” She cringed, half-expecting to be pistol-whipped.

  Then Kari’s voice came over the car speakers. “Jesus Christ, Nat!”

  “Yeah, I’m having a really hard time parking--”

  “Forget it, we cancelled. Are you listening to the radio?”

  “Uh, no...”

  “All the traffic? It’s not an accident.” If she hadn’t been in a life-or-death situation, Natalie would’ve noticed her assistant’s oddly-excited tone. “They started shooting the movie, and Sam Danmore disappeared! He’s like a fugitive or something.”

  “Hang up,” Natalie’s passenger growled low from the back seat.

  It dawned on her now that his voice seemed familiar. She risked a glance over her shoulder and holy shit. Holy. Shit. Holy fucking shit. “Holy fucking shit.”

  A world-famous pair of sexy brown eyes glared, and she turned back around just in time to avoid rear-ending a city bus.

  “I know, right?” Kari’s voice gushed. “They said he raped a teenage girl in his trailer and ran off when she screamed.”

  “My god...” Natalie jerked the car to a rocking stop in a loading zone, narrowly missing a few pedestrians.

  “Again. Can you believe that?”

  “Kari, I’ve gotta call you back.” She disconnected and sat silently a moment, staring straight ahead. Her heart was pounding harder than it did when her passenger first jumped in the car. Without turning, she spoke in her coldest and most professional voice (which barely shook at all). “Is it safe to assume you have not been holding a real gun to my head?”

  She heard him sigh heavily. In her peripheral vision, she saw him hold up a strong, tan hand and fold it into a finger-gun.

  “That’s a safe assumption, yes. And for the record, I didn’t do it.”

  Of course you didn’t. Now try to sell me Braves Stadium. “In that case, would you care to explain why you’re-- uh, naked, and in my car?” Her damn voice betrayed her that time.

  “Let’s talk about that when we get to your place.” The words were steeped in his trademark sinful smile. The narcissistic ass was trying to manipulate her.

  She wasn’t going to let him. “Never mind. Please just get out.”

  The leather seat creaked as he leaned forward and his deep chuckle tickled her ear. “Did you forget I’m naked?”

  She stiffened. “No. I didn’t.”

  It was a universally-accepted fact that Sam Danmore had a gorgeous body. Natalie had once heard a talk show host joke that his standard movie contract contained a wardrobe clause specifying his refusal to wear shirts in more than three scenes.

  He didn’t budge. His hair brushed her cheek. It was soft and smelled like fresh shampoo.

  Keep facing forward. Don’t move. Don’t talk.

  And for fuck’s sake, don’t look!

  There were plenty of people Natalie disliked. Sam Danmore was the only one she could honestly say she hated.

  Yeah, silly girl? Then why has your mouth gone dry?

  To her relief he finally backed off, taking his scent with him. “Sorry, sweetheart, I’m not gonna walk around downtown Atlanta in the buff.”

  The BMW’s windows were tinted for privacy, so while many people rushed past them along the busy sidewalk, no one had given her car a second glance.

  “Well, I’m certainly not taking you to my home!” Ugh. Could she sound more prim?

  He was quiet for a moment and she felt him studying her. “In that case, I’m gonna open the door here, and get all these nice people riled up until the news crews come and we’re all over the internet. You seem like someone who’d be okay with that.”

  She reached for her phone. “I’m calling the police.”

  The smug bastard laughed at her. “Oh, so you want more media attention? I must’ve misread you.”

  Fuck!

  He was still laughing as Natalie threw the car in gear and floored the gas to force her way back into traffic.

  Chapter Three

  IT WAS STILL early when they pulled into the parking deck of Natalie’s high-rise condominium, and a lot of people were heading out to work.

  From the back seat, her unwanted passenger groaned. “Shit. Guess it was too much to
hope you had a private garage.”

  “I’ll go up and get you a towel or something.”

  “No. We go together. For some reason, I think you’d sooner leave me here to rot.”

  She conceded his point with a shrug. “See my gym bag back there?”

  “Yeah.” He unzipped the small duffel. “You got a towel in here?”

  “No, but there’s a sweaty pair of shorts you can try to squeeze into.” She peeked at him in the rearview as he dug around the bag. The long, dark lashes she’d drooled over throughout high school cast shadows on his strong cheekbones.

  He pulled out the shorts. “Jesus! What, did you swim in them?”

  “I offered to bring you something clean...” She bit back a smile when he grunted, rocking the car as he struggled and shifted around in the back seat.

  “Never had such a hard time getting into a woman’s pants,” he met her eyes in the mirror and grinned. Those sexy dimples and perfect teeth caused the same flip in her belly that they always had, just like when they used to flash at her from the pages of teen heartthrob magazines. Only difference was now they reminded her how much she hated him.

  Natalie slammed out of the car and stalked to the elevator bank, modest heels thudding on the concrete as she scrolled for the news on her phone. She didn’t look back to see whether he followed or not. He joined her in the elevator before the doors closed. He won’t remember. It was ages ago. She hit the button for the twenty-second floor and felt him staring as she skimmed an article on her phone.

  “You’re pretty.” He made it sound like an accusation. That, and the surprise in his voice, kept Natalie’s ego from accepting the unwanted compliment.

  “That means a lot coming from you,” she said without glancing up.

  “Did you miss a pill or something, sweetheart?”

  Ignoring his question, she read aloud, “‘And from the Learn-from-Your-Own-Mistakes file, Sam Man-Whore has done it again. Sources say the actor committed statutory--’”

  “That’s bullshit.” The doors opened and they headed down the hall. “The kid’s a stalker. She snuck into my trailer and screamed when I tried to kick her out.”

  Natalie unlocked her door and gave him a flat look. “It’s not the first time you’ve been caught with underage girls... though it might be the first time you’ve been caught with only one.”

  “You always believe everything you read?” His gorgeous face looked pissed as he followed her in.

  “Of course not.” She slammed the door. “I’m a lawyer.”

  “Oh, fuck me.” he muttered.

  Her breath caught. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Don’t worry. I wasn’t.”

  “Good.”

  It was good. Right?

  Then his eyelids lowered and he gave her a familiar leer. “Maybe I thought about it a little.” Natalie’s pulse quickened despite her loathing of the man. He whistled and walked directly to the floor-to-ceiling windows, just as she’d done her first time here.

  She had fallen in love with the tall windows and all the sunlight that flooded the small space. The balcony was narrow, but she’d always intended to put a little bistro set out there. That and all her other home-making plans were forgotten the day she started chasing the partnership carrot. Four years later, her condo was still decorated in early Ikea and furnished in upscale Craigslist.

  “Nice view you’ve got, counselor.”

  It sure as hell is, she thought, allowing herself the opportunity to stare.

  When she wore them, the cut-off sweatpants were snug on her boyish hips, but now they stretched tightly over Sam’s perfectly-round ass. She’d seen him without a shirt more often than not over the years -- those wide, suntanned shoulders and the muscular back tapering to a tight, narrow waist were almost as recognizable as his leading-man-gorgeous face. But seeing all that delicious skin in person was much different from seeing it onscreen or in print. For instance, she never knew he had a tattoo. She squinted but couldn’t read the lines of text scripted along his ribs.

  “Like what you see?” He didn’t turn around, but she could hear the cocky grin in his voice. He’d been watching her reflection in the window. Crap.

  “I was trying to read your tattoo,” she said, lifting her chin.

  He walked back to her, then, trailing his fingertips over the words. “Have a look.”

  Natalie had thought his ass filled out the back of her old shorts quite nicely, but the way he filled out the front had her dry mouth watering. The soft grey fabric hugged his cock, the wide crown of which was clearly visible beneath the taut cotton. She dragged her eyes away, up the deep V-cut muscles and over his picture-perfect abs to the calligraphy tattooed on his lickable obliques.

  The privilege of a lifetime

  is to become who you truly are.

  She had to read it twice. No fucking way.

  “Where did that quote come from?” Her voice sounded tight to her own ears.

  “I didn’t come up with it, one of my fans did. It’s Carl Jung. You like it, Nat?”

  “Yeah. I know,” she laughed without humor. “And it’s Natalie. My name’s Natalie.”

  “Kari called you Nat.”

  “Kari’s a friend. You can call me Natalie.” Her voice was so frigid, it was a wonder she couldn’t see her own breath. She handed him her phone and a postcard with coupons for a free oil change she grabbed off a stack of mail. “That’s my address. You can call your people to get you out of here.”

  She busied herself with setting up her laptop and unpacking work files while he called someone named Mitch, who she assumed to be both a friend and professional representative of some sort. Sam gave Mitch the same story he’d told Natalie about the underage girl in his trailer, adding the part where he was changing into wardrobe for the first scene, which is why he ran out naked.

  “I’m at a lady’s condo, now... Yeah, I jumped in her car and she took me home.” Natalie felt his eyes on her when he chuckled, “It’s doubtful, man. I carjacked a fucking lawyer... Nah, she’s cute but she doesn’t want me here, so what can you do for me?”

  Natalie could hear the murmur of Mitch’s voice through the phone, but couldn’t make out what he was saying, so she tried to read Sam’s face as he listened. At some point, they made eye contact and she got lost in the dark brown depths, blinking back to the present when he disconnected and held out the phone. She grabbed it and crossed her arms, “Well?”

  A lock of dark hair fell over one eye as he shook his head and walked to the kitchen. “Sorry, Nat. You’re stuck with me until the story blows over.” He winked and opened her refrigerator, helping himself to a bottle of water. “Want one?” he offered.

  “No!” she sputtered, staring as he cracked open the bottle and took a long drink before setting it on the counter. A droplet clung to his lower lip and fell -- quite possibly in slow motion -- onto his $300-million-box-office-grossing chest.

  He wiped off the water with a big hand. “I need to borrow a shirt. And maybe some shorts that won’t cut off circulation to my dick.”

  Natalie couldn’t help flicking a glance southward, where his dick did not appear to be suffering a lack of blood flow. She gave him her best cool and haughty. “You are not my guest; you’re a carjacker. If you wanted clothes, you should’ve had me drive to the mall.”

  That grin again. “Ah. Okay, I get it. You like me in the shorts.” He chuckled at her angry gasp.

  She stomped a foot in frustration. “You can’t stay here!”

  “Don’t have much choice. Until they drop the charges, my lawyer says I’ve gotta lie low.”

  “Lie low somewhere else. I’ve only got one bedroom.” She regretted the words the moment they were out. Especially when he raised an eyebrow and scorched her with his trademark slow grin. Her pussy responded with a clench, which only pissed her off further. Even if she didn’t hate him with an abiding passion, there was no way in hell Sam Danmore would be interested in a tightly-wound, scra
wny beanpole of a lawyer. “I mean it. You need to leave.”

  He sighed and held out one of the hands she’d fantasized about for years. “Give me the phone.”

  She did, careful not to allow their fingers to touch.

  Sam pressed the button and instructed the phone, “Call the CNN news desk.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “You want me gone. I’m just gonna ask them to come get me.” The call rang through on speakerphone as he continued, “And when they do, you will be immediately plastered on the cover of every gossip rag, and paparazzi will follow you and dig into your past, and if they don’t hit pay-dirt they’ll make something up. It’s fun to be judged by millions of strangers. You’ll like it.”

  The ringing stopped. “Thank you for calling the CNN news desk, how may I help you?”

  Natalie snatched the phone from him and disconnected the call. She glared at his gorgeous, smirking mouth, not daring to make eye contact. “You’re sleeping on the couch.”

  No way was she going to allow herself to be picked apart by the media. Between the career she’d lose and the pay dirt they would most definitely find... she would do anything to keep that from happening.

  Still, she had Sam Fucking Danmore taking refuge in her condo. Hate him or not, he was beautiful to look at. And as a grown woman with a pulse, if she had to be stuck there with him she was sure as shit gonna share that news with somebody. She wished she could tell Evan, since he had such a crush on Sam, but he’d tell Kevin and god knew who Kevin might tell. Too risky. She’d have loved to tell Gabby, but they were still just getting to know each other again. She was almost positive Gab could be trusted not to say anything, but almost wasn’t good enough in a life or death situation like this.

  She scrolled for Lisa’s number in her phone.

  Sam sat on her big, comfy sofa like he owned it, and watched her pace. “What’re you doing?”

  “Calling my best friend.”

  “Thought we agreed no phone calls.”

  “I never said that.”

  “It was implied.”

  “That’s crap. You got to call a friend.”