Sex Symbol (Hollywood Heat Book 1) Page 3

Yeah, Stu made a good argument. No strings, no burdens—it was definitely the way to go. Even though he sometimes yearned for a more substantial relationship, Micah could be happy as a playboy.

  Of course, there was Maddie. He’d just met her and, hell, he knew hardly anything about her, but his attraction to her ran deep. He was certain that if he saw her again he’d want to see her again and again and again. She couldn’t be just a fuck fling, as Stu had put it, though fantasies of fucking her kept dancing through his mind. It would be best if he cut things off before they went any further. Leave it as the hot memory it was.

  He pulled his cell out of his pocket, and reread the draft of the text he had composed to Maddie. I’m remembering your moans. When can I make you mo—

  Now, he deleted the unfinished message. Then, he went to his contacts and scrolled to the info she’d entered the night before: Maddie from the party, 310-555-0557. He paused before he moved his finger over the delete button and pressed it.

  “Are you sure you want to delete this contact?” his screen flashed. He hesitated. Maybe he was overreacting. Just because his parents hadn’t worked out…

  “Christ, Brad, divorced?” Stu said into the phone. Until now, Stu hadn’t said much and his sudden outburst drew Micah’s attention. “I knew that chick was just after your money.”

  Stu paused. “Look, I’m real sorry to hear that. I’ll get Pam to spin it to the press however you want me to. It’s funny, I was just saying to another client that relationships in Hollywood are tough.”

  Stu gave a knowing wink and Micah’s mind was made up. He looked back at his phone, still flashing: Are you sure you want to delete this contact?

  Micah pushed Yes. And Maddie from the party was erased from his phone. Erased from his life.

  Three

  Seven Years Later

  Maddie stepped off the escalator at Denver International Airport and followed the crowd in front of her to baggage claim. She’d never been to this airport, but she easily found carousel four where the monitors showed her flight’s luggage would arrive soon. While she waited, she pulled her phone from her purse and turned off the airplane mode. Immediately it buzzed with a text.

  Tell me when u get in. Meet ur driver by the West Terminal doors.

  It was from Bree. Maddie responded. Just arrived. She pushed send and wondered for the hundredth time that morning, how did she get talked into this again? She replayed Bree’s frantic call from the day before in her mind.

  “We need you, Maddie,” Bree had said. “The assistant camera operator broke his tailbone and needs surgery so we need another assistant pronto for location. We’re already six weeks into shoot. I know you swore off working with Beaumont, and I’d never ask you, but Adam only wants you. You can totally name your price and you’ll get it.”

  Even though more than six years had passed, Maddie still felt the sting of the Joss Beaumont disaster that had effectively ended all her hopes of being a Hollywood director. Thank goodness she had mad skills in other areas of film, though he never treated her with respect again. On set, he treated her like his own private valet and coffee runner and then blamed her for not being around when he needed her. He might be one of the country’s top directors, but as far as she was concerned, he was an ass.

  Despite her dislike of Beaumont, Maddie was very fond of Adam LaForgeon, one of Beaumont’s regular camera operators. Old enough to be her father, Adam had taken her under his wing on the first film she’d done as an intern seven years before. He’d stood by her through what Maddie liked to now refer to as the Beaumont Fiasco. Soon she was working as Adam’s main assistant, joining him on all his projects. She would have been on this shoot from the beginning if Beaumont hadn’t been directing.

  Adam respected Maddie’s hatred of the pompous director and would have never requested her unless he was desperate. He’d stuck by her when she was desperate. How could she turn him down?

  And she owed Bree, too. Maddie was the main reason Bree worked as Beaumont’s personal assistant. Bree shared Maddie’s dislike of the asshole, but she belonged to the keep-your-enemies-closer camp. She claimed that working for “the fucker” might help Maddie. Besides, since sleeping her way to the top hadn’t worked as well as Bree’d planned—a series of nude photos and an accidental adult film ended that—working for a big-time director seemed a great way to get into the Hollywood scene from another angle. Unfortunately, several years later she only had P.A. on her legit resume and Maddie remained a camera assistant.

  So here Maddie was, less than twenty-four hours after Bree’s phone call, at the Denver airport waiting to claim her hastily packed suitcase with absolutely no information about the movie she’d be working on except that it was midway through production.

  The carousel whirred into motion and Maddie’s burgundy suitcase with the rainbow ribbon on the zipper pull was the first bag to sail down the ramp. She grabbed it, pulled up the handle and wheeled it behind her while she looked for her transportation. She spotted her driver near the doors to parking holding a flimsy white piece of paper with the name Madalyn Bauers scrawled across it. He had short clean-cut blonde hair, a baby smooth face and was built like a wrestler. Young. Definitely an intern or production assistant.

  “Hey,” Maddie said as she approached him. Her phone buzzed in her hand, probably with a response from Bree, but she ignored it. “You’re looking for me. I’m Madalyn Bauers. Well, Maddie.”

  “Then you are correct; I am looking for you,” the young man said. He held out his hand in greeting. “I’m Sam, and I’m your ride.”

  “Awesome.” Maddie didn’t miss the innuendo. “I can’t believe you went to this much trouble. I could have taken a cab.”

  “Honestly, I’m here to pick up one of the actors. He landed about fifteen minutes before you. You just got lucky with your timing.” Sam gave a sly smile. “Or I got lucky.”

  Oh cute, he was flirting. She responded with a hesitant smile.

  “I just gotta let the crew know I got you and then I’ll grab your bags.”

  While Sam made his phone call, Maddie read Bree’s text. And all is good?

  So far, Maddie replied. Pretending to still look at her phone, she covertly checked out her driver. Hmm, not bad. Good-looking, but too young. And blonds weren’t usually a hot-button for her. But still, there was possibility.

  “Okay, all set. I can take your bag for you.” Sam pocketed his phone and reached for Maddie’s carry-on.

  “Oh, thanks. Where’s the actor?”

  “He’s around here. Went to get a coffee or a newspaper or something. He should be easy to spot.” Sam craned his neck looking around the terminal. “Yeah, there he is. Looks like he got noticed.” He motioned with his head toward a group of people a dozen or so yards away. “You know talent, they always have an entourage.”

  Maddie followed Sam’s gesture. She could see the back of the actor wearing tight jeans and a casual blue sports jacket. Damn, the jacket obscured any ass-checking, but she’d bet money his booty was capital-F fine. He was signing autographs for four women surrounding him. Nearby she saw a muscleman, arms crossed, wearing sunglasses, jeans, and a T-shirt. He appeared aloof, but Maddie noticed how he watched the crowd. So this guy warrants a bodyguard. “Who is it anyway?” she asked.

  Before Sam could answer, the actor and his bodyguard turned away from the groupies and started toward them. Maddie’s heart began to race. Simultaneously her stomach dropped. She knew that wavy dark brown hair, those deep-set blue eyes, and those perfectly formed lips.

  “Micah Preston,” Sam and Maddie said in unison.

  Wow. She was stunned.

  It had been forever since she’d thought of Micah Preston as anything more than a Hollywood icon. Yes, he’d transfixed her in their brief encounter years ago and she’d dared to hope she would see him again for more than a week after that. When he didn’t call, she was disappointed, but what could she do besides move on? She hadn’t even known his full name.

  N
early a year after their encounter, she’d come face-to-face with him on the cover of her Entertainment Weekly. Micah Preston, Break-Out Sensation, it had read. Then he was everywhere, on every magazine cover, in every movie. As hot and handsome as he’d been the night they met, his face on the screen sending Maddie’s heart into palpitations.

  But seeing Micah everywhere in such a different context than the one she knew him from made it easy to distance herself from him. And the more she learned about him, the less she cared for him. Especially disgusting was the fact that Micah Preston was a playboy. In every picture the paparazzi took, he had a different stunningly gorgeous broad on his arm. Though Maddie had been easily seduced by him, she’d never done anything like that before or since. Apparently it was Micah’s M.O. Typical actor. And she, like most technical crew, had learned early in her career to stay clear of the talent. Their egos generally left little room for anyone else.

  Still, as Micah and his bodyguard approached her, a strange nervousness overtook her. She usually didn’t care much about making an impression, but she wished she’d had time to look in a mirror. She was in stupid sweats, a ratty tank top, and no bra—her comfy traveling clothes, for heaven’s sake. And now she was going to be face-to-face with a man who’d made her orgasm with his fingers. Would he be embarrassed that he’d hooked up with the likes of her? And what would she say to him? How on earth would she manage to not sound like a bumbling idiot? Lord, strike me down now.

  “Hey, man,” Sam said. “Looks like we’re ready to go. This is—”

  “Madalyn Bauers,” Micah finished, his eyes on her. At least, she thought his eyes were on her. She couldn’t quite tell through the sunglasses he had slid onto his face after leaving his fans.

  Maddie’s heart flip-flopped at his attention and the way he said her name. It rolled off his tongue like music. “Um, hi.”

  “You two already know each other?” Sam asked.

  Micah shook his head and pointed to the sign Sam was still holding with Madalyn’s name scrawled on it. “I just assumed.”

  Maddie swallowed. He didn’t remember her. Most goddamned adventurous night of her life and he didn’t even remember her. Sure he’d had a million girls since her, but she thought he’d at least think there was something familiar about her. Well, that sucks.

  Refusing to show her disappointment, she held up her chin and thrust out her hand. “Actually, it’s Maddie. Pleasure to finally work with you, Mr. Preston.”

  “Mr. Preston? It’s Micah.” He grasped her hand firmly. “And that guy is, Fu—um, Chris, my bodyguard.”

  Maddie carefully kept the shock of Micah’s touch from her face. And did he hold her hand a little too long, or was that her imagination? Whichever, it felt nice.

  “Micah it is.” He let go of her hand and a fleeting thought of never washing it again crossed her mind.

  What am I, a school girl? She was totally being ridiculous. Yes, seeing Micah again made her dizzy and warm in all the right places, but he was nothing more than a random boy who’d felt her up years ago at a wild party and never called afterwards. Nothing to be excited about now.

  She turned to Sam, avoiding Micah’s face as she pivoted. “Are we ready to go? I’d love to settle in and get to the set. I’m sure Adam could use me as soon as possible.”

  “Sure thing. Let’s motor. I’m not parked too far.”

  On the walk to short-term parking, Maddie stayed with Sam so she wouldn’t have to watch Micah’s backside tease her. Behind her, she heard him on his phone, but she couldn’t help putting a little sway into her own stride in case he might be eyeing her.

  “Ha ha, got some fries with that shake?” Chris asked, strolling up behind her.

  Crap. She blushed.

  He leaned in so only she could hear him. “Don’t worry about it. Common occurrence with Micah. I don’t even think some chicks notice they do it.”

  She didn’t know how to respond. “Thanks for, uh, pointing out my shimmy, Chris.”

  “No prob. And everyone calls me Fudge.”

  “Fudge. Awesome.”

  When they reached the vehicle, Maddie caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window as Sam loaded the bags into the trunk of the blue SUV. Her long brown hair was piled in a mess on top of her head. Her sunglasses, thankfully, hid the circles under her eyes and the red spot on the side of her nose that she knew from experience was the beginning of a zit. She looked, well, jet-lagged. She removed the scrunchee from her hair and finger-combed through her tresses before pulling it into a ponytail, a minor improvement. Maybe it was best that Micah didn’t remember her.

  “Here, I got that for you.” Sam pulled open the back door for her.

  “Thanks.” Chris, er, Fudge, had already taken the front passenger seat. That left Maddie in back with Micah. Shit. She should have moved faster. Sighing, she climbed into the backseat and let Sam shut her door.

  As soon as she was seated, Maddie pulled out her phone. Bree was so going to get it. She knew all about Maddie’s encounter with Micah seven years before, even though Maddie hadn’t told her initially. Leave it to Bree’s crazy eye for all-things-hot-guy-related to spot Micah in a movie trailer sometime later.

  “Didn’t you totally get it on with him at our graduation party?” she’d said.

  So much for Bree being too drunk to realize what was going on.

  Maddie had spilled the details—all the details—how he made her body sing, how she hadn’t known his full name, how he hadn’t called afterward. Bree knew full well that Maddie would have wanted to know he’d be on this shoot.

  Maddie’s text said it all. Micah freakin Preston???!!!??? You are so dead…

  She dropped her phone onto her lap and leaned against the passenger door, leaving as much space as possible between her and the spot where Micah would sit. He slid into the backseat next to her, his thigh muscles bulging through his tight pants. God, he was positively scrumptious. No wonder half the women in America had a crush on him.

  “Okay, I’m getting in the car now so I’ve gotta go, Mom.” Micah wrapped up his phone call. “Uh huh. Bye.”

  Damn. Now she might actually have to talk to him. At least she no longer had to wonder who was on the other side of his phone call. Not because she was envious, just curious.

  Pathetic, Maddie. Real pathetic.

  Micah pocketed his phone and stretched out, his limbs landing only a few inches from her body. She felt the warmth exuding from his body, and suddenly the backseat was ten times more cramped than it had a minute before. Hopefully it would be a short trip to the hotel. “How long is the drive?”

  “About an hour,” Sam replied, starting the car.

  Maddie let out a slow breath. A whole hour. Maybe she could pretend to sleep. She leaned her head against the window. A sudden buzzing in her lap made her jump.

  She felt Micah’s eyes on her as she read her text. If I told you, it wouldn’t have been as fun right now.

  It’s not at all fun right now!

  Bree’s next text came almost instantly. Why????

  He doesn’t remember me. She paused, looking at the words before she pushed send. Did he really forget her? Did he have no inkling of familiarity?

  She risked a full glance at him and found he was still staring at her. At her look, he perched his sunglasses on top of his head. “So, who are you?”

  Yeah, he really didn’t remember her. Why should he? She was a nobody. She wondered if she would have remembered him if he hadn’t become Mr. Superstar. Yes, she would. He was totally unforgettable. And he knew how cool he was. He’d gotten cocky. A lot of the famous actors did. Too bad.

  She hit send on her phone as she answered him. “Uh…Maddie.”

  “Right. Maddie-not-Madalyn- Bauers. Got that. I meant what are you doing on the show? I don’t remember seeing you on the set in L.A.” He scanned her bedraggled body. “And believe me, I would have noticed.”

  “Oh.” Maddie blushed. Cocky, but still had the charm. Self-conscious,
she tugged on her tank top. “No, I wasn’t in L.A. I’m taking over as first camera assistant.”

  “Cool. You’re much better looking than Carson. What happened to him anyway?”

  Sam answered for her. “Carson got here a day before shoot started and broke his tailbone trying to do some fancy dirt biking.”

  “Ha, that totally sounds like him,” Fudge said. “That crazy motherfucker.”

  Sam made eye contact with Maddie in his rearview mirror. “Maddie’s supposed to be an amazing camera assistant. Adam requested her. Had nothing but good things to say.”

  She felt warm from the praise. “I’m right here, you know. Don’t need to talk about me in third person.” She reluctantly slid her own sunglasses off and faced Micah. “I’m Adam’s usual assistant. He has to say nice things about me.”

  She studied him. In the years since she’d last seen him he’d changed his look often depending on his film roles. Now he sported the scruffy-Micah look—sexy stubble covered his face and his hair was longer and unkempt in a totally hot way. Her fingers curled into the upholstery as she imagined how they’d feel running through his hair.

  Micah furrowed his brow. “How come you weren’t here from the beginning?”

  “I had some personal issues with…someone… working on the show.” In this business you couldn’t badmouth anyone without serious repercussions.

  He leaned toward her. “Did those issues resolve somehow?”

  Her body ignited from his close proximity. Stupid female hormones. Beaumont seemed much less of a problem now that she had Micah to cope with. She simultaneously wanted to scoot nearer and shrink into the car’s interior. She did neither. “I’m learning to deal.”

  He looked at her carefully, then reached over and casually pushed aside a stray hair from her face, his finger brushing her cheek. “Hmm, let me know how that goes.”

  Maddie shivered under his touch. “Thanks,” she managed to whisper. Was he hitting on her? Maybe he hit on all girls the minute he met them. He did have a reputation. Or maybe she was just wishing he was hitting on her.