Star Struck (Hollywood Heat) Read online

  Star Struck

  Laurelin Paige

  Paige Press LLC

  Copyright © 2017 by Laurelin Paige

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover design: Letitia Hasser, RBA Designs

  Photo Credit: Wander Aguiar Photography

  Editing: Nancy Smay at Evident Ink

  Contents

  Foreword

  About This Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  It’s Free!

  Let’s Stay in Touch!

  Also by Laurelin Paige

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

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  About This Book

  This book was previously published with a different cover. It has been re-edited for this release.

  One

  Heather Wainwright rolled the straw of her drink between her plump raspberry-coated lips, the contents of her iced skinny mocha now mostly watered-down espresso.

  “Do you want me to stop for another?” Lexie asked, eying her sideways from behind the wheel of the BMW Active Hybrid, her short black hair bobbing with the subtle movement.

  “No. Just next time get me a bigger size to begin with.” Heather dropped her empty cup into the holder in front of her and replaced the straw. She chewed on the nail of her thumb, anxious but unable to identify the source of the feeling. She’d been anxious so often lately, she should have been getting used to it.

  Should have been. Those were the key words. More and more, her anxiety interfered with her daily activities. She’d even started to get a reputation as a diva on some of her sets. Maybe she should take Lexie’s advice and give herself a vacation. She’d certainly earned enough clout in Hollywood to take a break without losing any career footing.

  She sighed. Even if she wanted to take a break she couldn’t. Not now. She was booked almost solid for the next year and a half with projects. And even if she could get out of some of her obligations, she wouldn’t. It was too much like quitting, and Heather would never be called a quitter.

  “At least you had a few days off.” Lexie seemed to sense the source of Heather’s sigh. “Maybe I shouldn’t have signed you up for this. You could have used the three solid weeks.”

  “No, it’s fine.” Her tone came out whinier than she’d intended. Yes, she could have used the rest, but she’d never pass up an opportunity to help the Urban Arts Partnership, and Lexie knew that. That was why Lexie had proven herself to be the best assistant Heather had ever had – she understood the actress in a way few people did. In fact, after working together for two years, Lexie was more of a friend than an employee. “I’m sorry I’m being a bitch about it. I want to do this.”

  Heather had been back in L.A. only five days, having just finished a six-week shoot in Colorado. She hadn’t even finished buckling her seatbelt in the car outside LAX before Lexie’d delivered both good news and bad news. The good news was her next film had encountered a significant delay in production, giving her an extra three weeks before she’d have to start filming. This meant she’d have time to rest, but more importantly, it meant she was available for the annual 24-Hour Plays, a charity event that benefited the Urban Arts Partnership. Heather had been disappointed when she’d thought she wouldn’t be available for the event—she tried to never miss it.

  The bad news was that the usual spokeswoman for 24-Hour Plays, actress Rosie Barrett, had recently fallen on a movie set, breaking her leg in three places—a severe enough injury to require surgery. At the last minute, MountFilms, the sponsor of the event, were scrambling for a replacement. And without any consultation, Lexie had volunteered Heather for the job.

  Heather rested her elbow on the window ledge and glared at her driver. “But tell me again why you thought I’d be up for taking Rosie’s place?”

  It was Lexie’s turn to sigh. “Because you’re an avid supporter of Urban Arts. And you are a born schmoozer. It’s a perfect gig for you.” She glanced in her side mirror, avoiding Heather’s piercing stare. “At least I didn’t sign you up for that interview that Jenna Markham’s people have been bugging you about.”

  “If you’d done that, I would have fired you.” Jenna Markham was a cross between an investigative reporter and Barbara Walters. She dug up the deepest darkest secrets of her subject’s past and then made him or her get all weepy about them in a televised interview. Heather had managed to keep most of her roots buried. She was not about to blow that with a bare-all interview.

  “See? I know that. Which is why I told her no. And I told Urban Arts yes. Because you want to help Urban Arts.” Lexie bit her lower lip. “Besides, though I still think you need to take some time to chill, now is not necessarily the best time to do so. You need something to keep your mind off of Collin moving out.”

  Heather flung her hands up in the air in frustration. “I don’t need anything to keep my mind off of Collin! This isn’t a devastating breakup. I’m fine. How many times do I have to say it?”

  “It doesn’t bother you at all that he’s been sleeping with someone else for the past who-knows-how-long? That he’s moving in with her?”

  Heather dropped her hands to her lap and shrugged. “Eh.” She couldn’t explain her feelings about her on-again, off-again boyfriend, Collin Satchel. While his decision to move out left Heather alone in her twenty-thousand-square-foot Bel Air house, she didn’t feel any lonelier than she did when he’d been living there. Their entire relationship had been based on sex and playing a mega-Hollywood couple for the media. And truthfully, the sex hadn’t been all that fulfilling.

  “I slept with other guys, too,” Heather admitted now. “Don’t look at me like that. Shoots get long and I get horny.” Not that any of her trysts had gotten her off the way she’d needed. Even sex with Collin had always been subpar. What was it she was missing?

  “Well, even if you really are fine, which I doubt, the press is going to say otherwise. Unless you’re out in the world, being seen, showing how fine you are without him. Hosting the plays is a perfect opportunity for that.”

  “You’re right, you’re right.” Heather could improvise anything, schmooze anyone. So what was her hesitation about hosting the 24-Hour Plays?

  It was the importance of the event, she decided. Of all the causes and funds that Heather championed, this one truly mattered to her. Acting had been the only thing that had pulled her through her childhood and the Urban Arts Partnership was all about keeping the arts in under-privileged schools. She was afraid she couldn’t do it justice, that she’d do more harm than good.

  But the event needed a spokesperson. And they’d thought of her. And backing out now would definitely hurt the success of the plays. “You’re right,” she said again. “But you have to write every one of my spokespersoni
sh speeches, Lex. And if there’s any other extra work to do, I’m throwing it to you.”

  “Of course. That’s my job. Anyway, the only thing extra is tonight. And it’s casual, so no biggie.”

  The tonight that Lexie referred to was where they were currently headed—the Meet and Greet for all the behind-the-scenes people. There would be reps from MountFilms and Urban Arts as well as the backstage crew managers. Heather just had to share a few drinks, laugh at a few mediocre jokes, and smile for a few pictures. Then she’d be out of there—free and clear until the official start the next evening at nine.

  “What time did this start?” The dashboard clock read 7:27.

  “Seven. So you are sufficiently late.”

  Heather never arrived anywhere on time, another attribute that gave her diva status in the eyes of the press. It wasn’t that she wanted to make an entrance, as many gossip columns surmised. She’d simply discovered that arriving late guaranteed she wouldn’t be waiting alone. There was safety in numbers. Fans were less intimidated to approach her when she was surrounded by other people and when she was the last to arrive, she was surrounded.

  “Do you want me to come in with you?” Lexie asked as they neared Drebs, the location of the get-together.

  “No.” Heather leaned forward in her seat, trying to estimate how much trouble she’d have getting into the swank bar without being mauled by fans and press. Drebs should have been a low-key spot, but word must have gotten out that this was taking place there. She could already see a few cameras in the small group gathered outside the doors. Maybe it would be easier to get through if Lexie was with her. “Yes.” But would she look like even more of a diva than she already was if she paraded her assistant along with her? “No,” she said finally.

  Lexie chuckled, seeming to understand the thought process of the actress sitting next to her. “I’ll be in the lot outside. I won’t use valet so you can make a quick getaway if you need to. Sound good?”

  “Yes, thanks.” Heather flipped down the shade above her to give herself a quick look in the mirror. She looked good, even with her casual makeup and her long dark blond hair free of product. She was made-down enough that maybe, with her sunglasses on, she might be able to slip in unnoticed. Of course, wearing sunglasses in the evening was itself a red flag to anyone trying to spot a celebrity.

  “They’re going to spot you,” Lexie said pulling into the valet station. “But it will be fine. Just let the valet open the door for you and rush in. Don’t stop for autographs. Get inside, skip the host, and head straight for the private room. You know where it is.”

  Heather appreciated the pep talk. She let out a deep breath and took another as the valet opened her door.

  “Text me if and when you need me,” Lexie called as Heather stepped out of the BMW.

  “It’s her!” someone called as soon as the door shut behind her, followed by a scream of recognition. Another scream was followed by shouts of her name.

  Then so many voices were screaming and shouting, she couldn’t distinguish what any of them said. The crowd pressed around her, pens and napkins, and body parts thrust in her direction. She pushed her shoulder through the bodies, but she was stuck.

  Shit. She should have brought a bodyguard.

  She turned back to tell Lexie to stay, but Lexie had already pulled through the valet station, too far away to see Heather’s distress.

  Panic rushed through her.

  The doors of the bar swung open and a hand reached through the crowd toward her. She grabbed for it before even looking up to see the owner, letting the strong arm pull her safely inside.

  “I’m so sorry, Heather,” said Patrick Atlas, the executive from MountFilms and the source of her rescue. “Someone tipped off the press.”

  She swallowed the anxiety that had nearly overtaken her and pasted on a smile. “No worries. I’m used to it.”

  Patrick kissed her on the cheek and then led her farther into the bar toward the private room, holding her hand the whole time. She hated how much she needed a comforting hand around hers. She shouldn’t have let the crowd get to her like that.

  Heather watched the back of Patrick’s head as they walked. She’d known him for as long as she’d been involved with the 24-Hour Plays. He’d come on to her, often, even though she always turned him down. Right now she was grateful for the familiar face—or the familiar brown head, rather—though she normally would be more reserved around him, not wanting to lead him on. He was attractive and wealthy and powerful, but his charm was too smooth. Sweet nothings and soft caresses did nothing to fire up her libido. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure what it was that did fire her up, but she knew it wasn’t Patrick.

  Patrick opened the doors of the private dining room and gestured to the large rectangular table in the center of the room. “I’ve saved you a seat at the end by me,” he said. “I’m just going to let the hostess know that our party is complete and I’ll be right in. Oh, the waitress has already been by—can I put in a drink order for you?”

  What she wanted was a mug of beer, but her next movie featured her in a bikini so extra calories were out of the question. “A glass of White Zin, please.”

  “Got it.”

  She heard him shut the doors behind her as she surveyed the room, bustling with chatter and the clinking sounds of glasses and bottles. There were nearly thirty people there, many whom she recognized. She spotted a few members of the Urban Arts Board of Directors at one long end of the table.

  For a long moment she stood watching the group, unseen by anyone. She was usually the center of attention. It was both odd and surreal to be in a room unnoticed. And also awfully nice. Like a slice of heaven.

  But in her experience, heaven never lasted long. Neil Phillips, the coordinator of the plays, saw her and waved her over, prompting a few of the people sitting next to him to look up. “Heather!” he exclaimed, standing to give her a hug as she approached. “I hear you’re taking Rosie’s place last minute.”

  “Like anyone could take Rosie’s place,” she said.

  “If anyone can, it’s you.”

  Heather gave him her first genuine smile of the evening. Of the many people who had worked with her on stage and film, Neil was one of the few who saw past her “difficult” status to the woman underneath. He’d never done anything but bolster and uplift her, and she had nothing but respect and admiration for him.

  After Neil sat back down, she greeted his assistants and a few of the other people she recognized as stage crew. Then the Urban Arts crowd had to say hello. Finally, after greeting nearly everyone, she moved to the empty chair.

  “Here, let me.” The man sitting next to her stood to pull out her chair for her.

  “Thank you.” She sat down then shifted to face the man as he retook his own. Her breath caught.

  God, he was gorgeous.

  Not pretty-boy leading-actor gorgeous like the men she worked with, but rough-rugged muscular-man gorgeous. His dark blond hair fell high on his forehead giving a perfect view into his light blue eyes, which twinkled in the low light of the room. She guessed he was her age—her real age of thirty-three, not the twenty-nine that all her online bios stated. But then he smiled and the creases at the edges of his eyes suggested he might be older, or that he had spent a lot of time smiling. Either way, the laugh lines made him all the more handsome.

  As if her eyes had a mind of their own, they travelled lower, past the well-groomed scruff that covered his face to the T-shirt that hugged his bulky chest and thick biceps. Even through his clothes she could see how muscular he was. This guy was strong—the kind of guy who could pick her up and swing her over his shoulder in one easy movement. The kind of guy that either worked out religiously or had a job that kept him in the best of shape.

  The kind of guy who’d probably be a little rough in the bedroom. Not too rough. Just rough enough.

  Her core clenched at the thought.

  A blush crawled up her face. Why was she thinking like th
at? Sure, she hadn’t gotten any in…her mind quickly did the math. Though she’d tried to hook up with Micah Preston, a costar on her last film, he’d turned her down, leaving her sexless on that six-week shoot. And before that, Collin had been on location in Italy. And before that she’d been in Australia filming…

  Damn. It had been over eight months. No wonder she was feeling horny.

  “You’re trying to figure out what role I have in all this.” The man’s deep voice poured over her like a glass of Merlot, warming her from head to toe.

  “What? Oh, sorry. Yeah.” She fell into his statement, using it as an excuse for her staring. “Hmm…” She pretended to try to figure it out, still too stunned by his beauty to actually be able to put together real thoughts.

  “I’m not going to tell until you guess. If that’s what you’re waiting for.”

  “No. Though it’s not fair that you know who I am and I have no idea who you are.”

  Jesus, she was flirting! With a stranger!

  Not a problem. She flirted with everyone. He didn’t know that this time she actually meant what she promised in her seductive tone.

  “Who says I know who you are?”

  Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She’d assumed that he knew who she was. Because, well, everyone knew who she was, and now she’d made an ass of herself.

  He laughed. “I’m kidding. Even if I didn’t know who Heather Wainwright was, I’d guess you were the actress spokeswoman. You ooze celebrity.”