Star Struck (Hollywood Heat) Read online

He’d been so consumed with her, Seth had almost missed out on the satisfaction of a job well done. Almost, but not quite.

  “The Urban Arts program is going to make out on that auction next month,” Neil said, handing Seth another beer. “The general feedback is very favorable. It was a great suggestion. Maybe we’ll even add it to the New York plays in November.”

  “Thanks, man. I feel good about it.” He’d feel even better if he hadn’t nearly molested the spokeswoman for the event in the back of the theater earlier in the day. Twice. Actually, the thing he felt the worst about where Heather was concerned was not finishing what he’d started.

  “You should feel good. You are totally invited back next year. If you don’t mind me asking, though, how come you didn’t want anyone to know you donated the materials?”

  Seth hesitated. Neil was a good guy, real down-to-earth and a major supporter of bringing Seth’s set idea to life. He popped the top off his beer—his sixth in an hour. “Truthfully,” he said after taking a swallow, “I don’t really care who knows. As long as Heather Wainwright doesn’t know.”

  “Heather?” Neil’s eyes widened in surprise. “Why…? Actually, don’t answer. I have a feeling I don’t want to know.”

  “Maybe I’m being a dick.” No maybe about it, he was being a giant dick. “But she’s stuck-up. And this whole project—the Urban Arts, the 24-Hour Plays—is about helping the less fortunate. Not about alienating or demeaning people who are considered beneath you.” Though he wouldn’t mind being beneath Heather. In the physical sense, anyway.

  “I get it.” Neil opened his mouth to say more and then stopped himself.

  “Go ahead. Say whatever you want. I probably need to hear it.”

  “It’s just that I’ve worked on the shows for as long as Heather. And she can come off as a real snob. But at heart, she’s not like that. She believes in the project and the work we do. I think there’s something personal about it for her.”

  Seth rolled his bottle between his palms, wondering if he should slow down. “I suspect you’re right. But it’s personal for me, too.” He used to be just like her—denying his past and hiding from where he came from. Then he learned the hard way that he couldn’t run from who he was. That was when he realized that he wouldn’t be where he was today if it hadn’t been for where he came from. If Heather had a similar story, then she needed to embrace it as well.

  Just his personal opinion.

  “Speak of the devil,” Neil said, his eyes pinned to a spot behind Seth.

  Seth turned to see what Neil was looking at. There was Heather, heading straight toward him, her sexy sway accentuated by her hip-clinging dress. If he wanted to continue to avoid her, he needed to go now.

  Or he could just stay right where he was and see how things played out.

  The latter option certainly seemed more fun. Okay, he’d definitely had more beers than he should have.

  And the way Heather was weaving suggested she might have had a bit too much to drink herself.

  He excused himself from Neil who gave him a knowing grin and stepped out to meet her approach. A good idea, since, when she was only few feet away from him, she stumbled. Setting his beer bottle on the table next to him, he caught her at the elbows to steady her and tried not to notice how her soft skin pimpled into goose bumps under his fingers.

  “Hey, you don’t need to catch me all the time.”

  Her breath was a warm breeze on his face twisted with the fragrance of alcohol and orange juice. Yep, she’d definitely been indulging.

  “Then quit falling all over me.” It took all his strength to not pull her closer to him. Even drunk, she was tempting and sexy as fuck.

  “You wish.” She shrugged out of his grasp. God, if his hands didn’t feel empty without her in them. “I need to say something to you.”

  Seth chuckled. “Of course you do.”

  She placed her fists on her hips, attempting, he suspected, to look threatening. Instead she looked even more adorable. He wanted nothing more than to throw her across the buffet table and ravage her. Not stand and take whatever insult she planned on dishing out next and pretend that each curt word didn’t make his dick harder.

  He retrieved his bottle from the table and prepared himself with a long swig.

  “You are such an arrogant…Wow! Ipswich Ale. I’m impressed.”

  “What? Did you expect me to be drinking something domestic like Coors or Bud? Because if that’s what the bar had, I’d be just as happy with one of those.”

  She scowled. “No. Ipswich is just one of my favorite beers.” Her words slurred together. “God, do you really think I’m that shallow?”

  Yes, he did.

  Or maybe he didn’t. She certainly had a superiority complex, but she also had that vulnerability that kept appearing under her mask of self-confidence. He’d glimpsed it that first night he’d met her, then again when she’d asked for his drill. And every time he’d kissed her.

  And when she’d practically begged him to say he liked her.

  Especially then, and he’d done nothing but disappoint her.

  Thinking about that made his head swim. Or the ale did. Either way, he pushed the thought aside. “What did you have to say to me, Heather?”

  She frowned as she tried to remember. Then her eyes lit up and she pointed a long finger at him. “You are a fucking arrogant asswipe…”

  His cock strained against his jeans. “You’ll understand if I don’t want to stick around for this.” He brushed past her, needing to get away from her before he acted on his drunken desire, but unable to do so without touching her one last time.

  “Don’t interrupt my apology.”

  Apology? He turned back to her. “This is an apology?”

  “It might be.” Her eyes clouded. “If I can remember my next line…” Putting one hand out to lean against the table, she brought her other hand up to rub her forehead.

  Shit, she really was drunk. “Heather, how are you getting home? You aren’t driving, are you?”

  She looked at him, uncertainty in her eyes. After a minute her face cleared. She reached into the cleavage of her dress and pulled out a key card.

  Yeah, that wasn’t hot at all.

  She waved the key in front of his face with triumph. “I’m staying in the hotel.”

  Thank God. There was no way she’d make it further than that without causing a scene. He didn’t even know if she could make it inside the building in her current state. “Do you need help getting to your room?”

  “Are you offering to take me?” She smiled mischievously, and grabbed his shirt collar. “Because if you’re trying to get me in bed, all you have to do is ask.”

  His cock leapt at her husky throwback to the line he’d given her the night before. Why did she have to be such a damn sex kitten? He’d thought he couldn’t resist her when she was a mega bitch. If she was going to play seductress, he had no chance.

  Except, sexy as she was at the moment, she was also drunk. And taking advantage of inebriated women was not his style.

  It would be easier to keep that thought in his head if he wasn’t intoxicated himself.

  He covered her hands with his and gently pulled them off of him. “I’m more concerned about you making a fool of yourself. You seem to care a lot about your reputation.”

  “A fool of myself?”

  “Because you’ve had too much to drink.”

  “I’ve only had two.” She wrinkled her forehead in thought. “Maybe two and a half.”

  “Have you eaten anything today?”

  “Um…I don’t…I can’t remember.” She swung to look behind her. “Did I, Lexie?” She continued her circle. “Lexie?” When she’d made it back around to Seth she was dizzy and wobbling. “Oh, yeah. Lexie’s not here.”

  Sighing, he set down his beer bottle and grabbed her firmly by an elbow. “Come on, princess.” Glancing around to make sure no one was watching them, he escorted her to the nearest doors leading inside.
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  “Where we going?”

  “Your room.”

  “How exciting.” She giggled, and his chest ached at the sweetness of the sound.

  He led her to the elevators and pushed the call button before he realized he didn’t know where they were going. “Tell me your room number.”

  “You’re so bossy.” She sidled closer to him. “It’s really sexy.”

  His dick twitched eagerly. What had he been asking her about? Oh, yeah. “Your room number, Heather.”

  “417,” she said just as the elevator doors opened. “I have no idea how I remembered that.”

  “Get in.” His voice sounded as strained as he felt. He was wound up so tight over her that he wasn’t sure how much longer he could resist.

  And he was taking her to her hotel room. What the fuck was he thinking?

  Thank God they were alone in the elevator. As soon as the doors shut, Heather threw her arms around Seth’s neck and pressed against him.

  Shit.

  “Seth,” she sighed into him. “I’m so tired. I’m just going to rest my eyes for a minute.”

  “No, no, no, princess. Keep your eyes open. We’re almost there.”

  But his words were in vain. She was already slack in his arms when they arrived on the fourth floor. Cursing under his breath, Seth lifted her into his arms and followed the arrows looking for her room. He passed it twice before he made it there. He’d lectured her, but now that he thought about it, he hadn’t had anything to eat before those beers either. No wonder he wasn’t thinking straight.

  At her door, he set her down on the ground, keeping a firm arm around her to keep her upright. “Heather? Heather, sweetie? Where’d you put your key?”

  When she didn’t respond he realized he’d have to find it himself. She didn’t have a purse so she’d either dropped it on the way to her room or she’d put it back where she’d been keeping it before.

  Only one way to find out.

  “Don’t get too excited, buddy,” he said to his cock, then slipped his hand down the front of her dress to search for the key. If his fingers lingered a little longer than necessary after he’d found the card, well, could she really blame him?

  He slid the key card into the slot and prayed it was the right room. When the light went green and the door clicked open, he let out a sigh of relief.

  Now to get her inside.

  He patted her face. “Heather?”

  She opened her eyes. “What happened? Where are we?”

  “You passed out. We’re at your room. I’m going to help you inside. Is that okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  She had woken enough to stand but still needed support walking. He led her through the suite to her bed and sat her on the edge.

  “Are you good?” He kept his hands on her shoulders, holding her in a sitting position.

  “Yeah, I think so.” She looked up at him with a smile that made his pants feel tighter.

  Christ. What was he doing here?

  “Let me help you with your shoes.” Not a good move. But he bent down, ignoring the sway of the room as he did, and unbuckled her strappy sandal. He slid her dainty foot out of one shoe then repeated the process on her other foot. He kept his face down, aware that if he met her eyes she’d see the effect the intimate act had on him. Seriously, he wanted to do some pretty kinky things to those lovely feet. It took a shitload of strength to not suck on each red-tipped toe.

  His hand dallied on her ankle, as he indulged in the feel of her silky skin.

  “Thank you, Seth.”

  He looked up now, the sound of his name on her tongue causing his chest to squeeze all the air out of his lungs. With great effort he stood. He wasn’t sure she was ready to be left alone—or, rather, that he was ready to leave her alone—but he realized a quick escape was essential. Though he couldn’t just dump her and leave, could he?

  Yeah, he could. He should.

  Except he found himself asking, “Would you like me to get you a bottled water before I leave? I can grab one from the mini-bar.”

  “That would be nice. Thanks.”

  After ensuring she was okay on her own, he left her bedroom and returned to the outer room of the suite. He took a deep breath, rubbing his hands over his face. God, what had he gotten himself into?

  Nothing, he’d gotten himself into nothing. He was merely helping a pretty lady who needed help.

  Yeah, right.

  As he grabbed two bottles of water from the mini-fridge, he spotted himself in the wall mirror. “Give her the water and get out,” he told his reflection. “Don’t be a dick. Don’t think with your dick. Just get in and get out.”

  Feeling confident he could accomplish his mission, he returned to the bedroom. “Here you go, I’m leav— ”

  But he never finished his sentence. He couldn’t. The sight that met him in the bedroom stole all possibility of speech.

  Because Heather lay on the bed, her torso propped up on her elbows, her mouth twisted in a sexy smile.

  And she was stark naked.

  Six

  Holy fuck…

  Heather Wainwright—naked. Though he couldn’t give a shit about her celebrity status, Seth suddenly understood why she’d made the 50 Most Beautiful People list three years running. She was absolutely breathtaking.

  He’d already seen her tits—gorgeous tits that had surprised him with their authenticity— but seeing her spread out naked in front of him was a sight to behold. Though her breasts were still a highlight, she had other truly beautiful features—taut long legs, curvy hips and a stomach so flat he could eat off of it. Except if he was going to be eating, it would be lower, on the nearly bare stretch that peeked out between her soft supple thighs. His mouth watered with the desire to taste her.

  As if controlled by something outside of him, a magnetic force drawing him to her, Seth took a step toward the bed. He was vaguely aware of an alarm going off in the back of his head, his conscience reminding him something about getting in and getting out.

  Oh, he’d get in and get out all right. In and out all night long if she’d let him.

  But wait, this wasn’t right. And of all the times in his life that his gentlemanly side had abandoned him, it had to go and show up now when he’d be perfectly happy to be a man without morals.

  With a sigh, he closed his eyes so he could concentrate without the distraction of the beautiful unclothed body in front of him. That was better. He could control himself now. Could remember why he needed to leave.

  He opened his eyes, keeping them pinned to the abstract painting on the wall above the bed. “Heather.” He was surprised he could talk so naturally. “What exactly are you doing?”

  “Seducing you.” Her words came out in a purr, soft and sweet with a frequency that seemed to be tuned right to his dick.

  He was in so much trouble.

  “Very funny.” Get in and get out. “Here’s your water.” Not daring himself to have any contact with her, he kept his eyes averted and moved to the nightstand, planning to drop the bottles there and leave. He managed the first step, but moving closer to her was a big mistake. Because now he was within her reach.

  Not even a second had passed between the moment he let go of the bottles and the moment Heather grabbed his shirt. She’d moved to the edge of the bed, up on her knees. “What’s so funny about it?”

  Damn, for a woman who’d had too much to drink, she could move.

  But she was still drunk. He had to remember that. “Heather, you’re not in any condition for this.” He couldn’t ignore her bare skin now that it was pressed up against him, no matter how hard he tried. At least he couldn’t see her as well in this position.

  Her response to his statement was to kiss along the underside of his jaw.

  Keep focused. “And if you remember correctly, we don’t really care for each other. Despite being attracted to one another…” More than attracted. He was goddamn ready to spill his load simply from what she was doing with her
mouth on his neck. Imagine if her mouth was elsewhere…

  Focus! “But you probably don’t remember that we hate each other because, as I said before, you’re drunk. And I’m drunk.” He brought his arms around her with the intention of pushing her away, but didn’t seem to be able to do anything but stroke the silky skin of her backside with the palms of his hands.

  Her lips kissed up to his ear. “I’m not that drunk.”

  “You passed out in the elevator.” Oh God, her tongue in his ear…

  “I’m a good actress.”

  “You’re not that good of an actress.” But he found himself questioning whether or not she was really as drunk as he’d first assumed. Had the whole thing been a ruse to get him to her room?

  As if reading his mind she asked, “Are you sure?”

  Yeah, he was sure she was drunk. If she wasn’t, she would have defended her acting. There were other signs. He could still smell the liquor on her breath. She’d been dead weight when he’d carried her—she couldn’t have faked that. Her discarded panties were still wrapped around one ankle as though she may have had trouble getting out of them. And sweet as her kisses may be, they were also sloppy.

  Definitely drunk.

  Question was, did he care?

  “I do not take advantage of drunken women.” There was no pretending his words were for her. He was reminding himself. Fat lot of good his self-scolding was doing—his hands had already made their way down to caress her fine ass.

  Her hand lowered as well, clutching his hard as fuck dick through his jeans. “It seems like I’m the one taking advantage of you.”

  The sirens in his head increased. He was seconds from disaster and if he had any hope of walking out of this he had to assume control of the situation. Now.

  In one swift movement, he threw her down on the bed, his body pressed against her to pin her hands over her head. “Heather, stop!”

  But now she was where he dreamed of having her—naked and underneath him, her sexy body soft and submissive.

  And when she stared up at him from beneath hooded lids, desire brimming in her eyes, the battle was lost. With a growl that was half frustration, half lust he said, “When I fuck, I take the lead.”