Page 26 of Last First Kiss
“Ironic. You almost killed me.”
“Okay, you can turn around now.” She had on black running shorts and a loose T-shirt. A towel was wrapped around her hair. “We have to get going within an hour to make your meeting with the studio.” She stopped fidgeting and finally made eye contact with him. “Did you need something? You came in because . . . ?”
“Uh . . .” Why had he come into her room? “I was surprised you weren’t already downstairs having your protein gunk and making calls.”
“Been up since five. Did that already.”
“Oh. Well, okay then.” He turned to leave. “Sorry for scaring you. Coffee? You want coffee? I’m making some coffee.”
Now he was starting to sound like her.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll take some coffee. I’ll be right down. I need to dry my hair first.”
He nodded and turned, walking down before he humiliated himself further.
As he waited for the fresh coffee to brew, he stretched his hands on the kitchen counter and dropped his head forward. Jesus, this woman was something else. Minutes ago, she was holding a fucking knife at his throat, which should have scared the shit out of him, but instead of focusing on the cold steel pressed against his neck, he could only focus on her wet slippery body pressed against him. He’d promised her he’d back off and keep it professional, but the way she looked, smelled, acted . . . it was going to be a long hard day.
* * *
Throughout the entire two-hour meeting with the studio, Annie stood by the entrance to the office, completely silent and focused. His eyes drifted to her too many times to count, and at one point Paul kicked him under the table. But how could he focus? She was wearing that same outfit he’d seen her wear the day they’d met. It had been hell sitting next to her in his small car as she checked the mirrors and surroundings a thousand times. She smelled so fucking good, and it was in no way his shampoo or soap on her body that had her smelling like that.
The only difference this time was that she wasn’t wearing heels. She said she needed to be mobile, “just in case.” He had rolled his eyes. This was crazy overkill, but if it meant she would stick around, he’d take it. With those tight black jeans or leggings or whatever the hell they were, combined with that tight top and high pony tail, she looked like she was ready to kick ass or go into a kink room and dominate the shit out of any willing man. He’d never seen himself as a submissive, but damn, he’d kneel to her and obey every single command she made. The thought of that made his dick stir and the soft groan that came out of his mouth caused Paul to kick him.
“Sorry. Sorry.” He looked back to the old man who was talking. “What did you just say?”
“I was saying that we secured the visas and permits to shoot in Colombia. We’ll only be there one week and need to get the two final shots done there. Spelling is thrilled. It’s going to bring that authenticity that the movie needs. The crew is already out there prepping everything and shooting the background and some extras. We’ve hired local security, but we’ll still need to be extra careful. Also, we’re keeping the location quiet.”
“We understand. This is all good news, Stanley,” Paul said, jotting down notes in his notebook.
“Now, let’s talk about the security breach yesterday. It’s getting worse. We’ve gotten word that our posters are being vandalized or stolen.”
“All publicity is good publicity, right?” Rocco chuckled.
“Not in this case. Not when the people doing it are impeding our ability to make the damn movie,” the old man’s voice boomed. “Now, Spelling wanted you on the film, Mr. Monroe, let’s be clear. It was all his doing. You being in this movie is causing me to take too many antacid pills. It’s making me cranky, my wife is pissed off at me, and I’m hemorrhaging money left and right.”
“Julia’s in the movie too. It can’t all be about me.”
“It’s mostly about you,” he deadpanned. “Last year, you were in a movie about a BDSM club where you were the dom who fell in love with his submissive. Your ass was out for thirty percent of the movie and there were ten very explicit sex scenes.”
“That movie made a helluva lot of money,” Rocco said, trying to keep his temper at bay.
“Agreed. But that’s not the point. The point is, people don’t want a guy who’s known for sensationalizing sex to play their hero. No, not hero. These people think of Mendoza as their savior. Come on, Rocco, you were the guy who became famous for a leaked sex tape before sex tapes were even a thing.”
“That never happened.” Now he was pissed. “You of all people are going to listen to the supermarket rags, now?”
“I agreed to sign you on for this role, but you have to play by my rules, Monroe. Julia’s got two Oscar nominations under her belt. She is a serious dramatic actress. People aren’t taking you seriously, on camera or off. I mean, for chrissakes, I asked you to hire security and you pull this stunt.” He pointed to Annie, who’d been looking out the door, minding her own business. In fact, she didn’t even seem to notice that the focus of the conversation had shifted to her.
“What stunt is that?” he hissed.
“You hired a woman.”
Rocco lowered his voice. He didn’t want Annie to hear this conversation, he didn’t want her feelings hurt. “I hired a decorated member of the US Army, Stanley. I hired the best, most qualified person for this job. I hired someone who bad guys, whomever they may be, won’t suspect is coming when she comes at them. I hired someone from ICS, where you sent me.”
“The point of a bodyguard is to make your protection known. To let them know not to approach. Not someone to blend in.”
“They threw a brick at his window, Stan, they don’t care whether he has a woman or ten men guarding him.” Paul interjected.
“Stanley.” The attorney for the studio, who was sitting across from Rocco, leaned over to the old man and whispered something about “discrimination” and “lawsuit.” Whatever it was, it was effective in getting the man to shut his mouth.
