~Declan~
The flight attendant had just announced our final descent into Richmond. In twenty minutes, I would be stepping foot in Virginia for the first time in six months. After months of delays, we were finally ready to start filming the Civil War movie I was both the star and executive producer. If given the choice, I would hand the acting role to someone else. Let them deal with the constant attention and the never-ending chatter. But that was a condition the studio had put into my contract. If I wanted my name added to the list of producers in the credits, I had to take the lead role. It was an honorary title mostly, but it would hopefully get me to where I wanted to go.
Acting was never my intention. I had come to Hollywood to direct, but I'd had a hard time getting my foot in the door. So, I'd auditioned for a small role, and got it. One thing had led to another and before I knew it, acting had become my full-time career.
When a little known film I'd done struck it big with several Oscar nominations last year, my name had been plastered over every gossip magazine and Internet site known to man. I had been dubbed the newest up-and-coming Hollywood hunk.
I f*cking hated it.
I couldn't leave my apartment for weeks without some dick with a camera following me around asking me about anything from the weather to who I'd f*cked last night. I had been offered every role imaginable. I'd turned them all down. I didn't want to be the next action hero or the newest heart-throb. I just wanted to be left alone to retire from acting so I could get behind the camera.
When the script for this movie had come across my desk, I'd seen an opportunity. It had a small budget, and was an independent film —exactly the type of thing I needed. I'd approached the director and asked if I could step in as an assistant director —only. They'd given me a flat-out no, which wasn’t a total surprise since I hadn't directed a single thing since college. But they had offered the title of executive producer —if I agreed to star as well. It was an olive branch and my hope was that by getting my name recognized for something other than acting credit, it could be a step in the right direction.
I'd accepted, hating the fact that I had to add another acting gig to my schedule, but I was grateful for the opportunity. The director needed my name in the starring role to gain the necessary attention. With Declan James, the hot new thing in Hollywood, cast as the lead, they had been able to land a top-notch actress to costar. It was a compromise, but at least I had my foot in the door now. My only wish was that it hadn't taken so long to get going. Spending six months in Hollywood, sitting around while they finalized everything, had about killed me.
I'd felt like a caged animal waiting to get out of confinement. All my life, I'd been able to go wherever and do whatever I wanted. It was what I'd demanded and expected, and no one had ever stood in my way. Now that my face was everywhere, I couldn't have a private moment to save my life —which meant that every second of my life was watched and scrutinized. If I walked down the street with a woman, she was automatically my girlfriend. If we were seen together twice, we were obviously engaged. It was f*cking ridiculous. I'd managed to hang low long enough that the attention from my last movie had died down a bit. Eventually the paparazzi had gotten bored and stopped stalking my house, but I would still get the occasional flash when going into Starbucks or a club. If my last name were Pitt or Pattinson, I didn't think I would have gotten off so easily. But the entire experience had left me paranoid and edgy.
After six months, I would finally be out. Returning to Richmond, I knew exactly where I was going and who I was going to see first —Leah Morgan.
The blonde bombshell had become a permanent fixture in my mind since that one amazing night we'd spent together so many months ago. She haunted me, filled my dreams and made me ache. I'd tried to rid myself of her by losing myself in other women but no matter how beautiful, or sexy, they didn't hold a f*cking candle to Leah. It was her face I'd pictured every time I'd come, her body I'd felt every time I touched another and her moans I'd heard echoing through my ears.
She was like an addiction running rampant in my system, and I knew only one way to cure it.
The Captain came on the intercom and said something, probably telling the flight attendant to plant her ass in her seat. The plane angled downward toward the ground and the landing gear locked into place. I looked out the window and saw the darkened city, taking note of the lights dotting the landscape. Anticipation took over as I waited for the plane to touch down. I had been waiting for this moment for months now —ever since I'd decided Leah's invasion of my mind wasn't going to go away on its own. It was going to require drastic measures. I never slept with the same female twice. Repeat performances in one night were fine, encouraged even, but I never, ever returned for seconds. That made them think you had feelings, and I didn't.
Couldn't. Wouldn't. Not ever again.
I wasn't built that way anymore. Monogamy wasn't something I wanted with anyone. I was sure it worked out for some people. But for the majority? No. It was something people did out of obligation or guilt, even though they would rather be screwing their hot secretary or racquetball instructor.
So, I had rules —well, one rule really. Never sleep with the same woman twice. It was a brilliant f*cking rule, and it had worked —until Leah. I didn't know what it was that had me so hooked. When I'd picked her out in that bar so many months ago, I had pegged her as just another gorgeous woman. Granted, I'd never seen any other woman who equaled her. With her long honey-wheat hair, striking blue eyes and curves that could kill a man, she was the whole f*cking package. The fact that she was friends with Logan's girlfriend just made things easier. She would have been going home with me that night no matter the circumstances. When we'd all sat down together, she had begun fumbling all over her words, and I'd thought "bingo", knowing I had her. The only coherent thing I had gotten out of her all night was the mention of a cemetery when I'd asked her about the history of Richmond.
Trusting my instincts, we had stopped by the old cemetery that dated back several hundred years so I could get a good look for the camera crew to consider as a possible location. Now the location was actually going to be used, thanks to me. As I roamed, taking note of headstones of generals and fallen soldiers, and the various different angles that could be shot, she had seen me. No, it had been more than that. She had seen through me. I'd never felt so exposed before. Usually women saw what they wanted to see with me, and I would let them. It was easier that way. Let them sleep with the playboy movie star for a night, and their expectations are set nearly as high. When I would disappear the next day, they expected it. Leah? She had seen the real me, and it was chilling.
I'd never craved a woman after she left my bed like I did with Leah. Days, weeks and now months after that night, I still remembered everything —her smell, the touch of her skin and the way she had trembled when she broke apart beneath me. It had to stop. I couldn't go on like this, obsessing about a woman I didn't want anything permanent with. I figured after one more night, maybe two, with her...and I'd be cured. I could move on with my life —without the beautiful blonde ghost following my every step. It was a good plan. It was goddamn brilliant. Soon, I'd be back to my normal self again, and I could put this crazy Leah business behind me.
I took a deep breath of air as the plane landed and made its way to the gate. We all filed out of the plane, and while I walked into the terminal, I swore I could hear laughter in my head. It was as if my conscience were saying, you think you're going to get off that easy?
Yeah, buddy I do.
I was so f*cking wrong.
~Leah~
Looking into the bathroom mirror, I finished securing my blonde hair into a messy bun on the top my head and then I removed my makeup. I took a quick glance at my reflection, seeing the spitting image of my mother staring back at me and I sighed before shutting off the light and walking into my bedroom. My father always said I'd grow up to look just like her. Guess the bastard was right. The few pictures I had tucked away that I'd managed to steal from home were like staring into my own reflection. It was one giant reminder of what was left behind.
After slipping into my favorite robe and fuzzy slippers, I made a beeline for my modern small kitchen decorated shades of my favorite color —teal. I opened the freezer and pulled out the pint of rocky road that was currently calling my name.
It had been a long, emotional night. Watching social services walk in and eventually escort Connor out of the hospital was heartbreaking. They'd promised me they would take good care of him, and they really had been gentle and loving with him. They were going to follow through with trying to contact the family friends Connor mentioned. He told them their name and said they were the only other family he had. He wasn't even from here. He was visiting from out of state. I couldn't imagine how scared he must have been.
He had eventually agreed to be my friend. We'd sat quietly in that exam room for probably thirty minutes as I listened to him try to hide his tears.
Then he'd asked, "Do you have a Mommy?"
I'd answered, "No."
I'd told him I had lost my mommy when I was seven also. He'd asked if she died in a car crash, too. I'd just shook my head. He'd looked up at me with those big mesmerizing eyes so full of hurt and he leaped into my arms. He'd cried and cried, and I'd just let him, knowing he needed it. I'd held him for an hour as he'd let every last drop of moisture leak from his body. I knew the feeling. I remembered doing the same thing at the very same age. The only difference? I hadn't had anyone to hold me. I was so grateful that I could be that person for him. I just hoped there was someone else willing to take up where I'd left off.
He had shown me the picture he'd held so tightly to his body. The EMT had recovered it from the car before it had been towed away. It was a photo of him and his mother that had been attached to the sun visor. She stood behind him at what appeared to be a state fair of some sort. Carnival rides and food stands dotted the canvas behind them, and Connor held a giant cotton candy in his tiny hands. He was covered in blue sugar and his mom just smiled, not seeming to care that he was a giant mess. She was beautiful, a lot like him, but she had lighter hair and different colored eyes. They looked happy and so full of love.
I'd bitten my lip to keep the tears from falling down my cheek. He'd told me about the fair and the day his mom had taken him. He’d talked about the fun things they did and the trip they were supposed to take to Virginia to see his Mom's friend. I didn't know much about children, but being there with him had felt right. Giving him that chance to cry and talk about his mother with me had been all l I could give him in that short amount of time. I just hoped it had helped.
When I'd gotten home from my twelve-hour shift and my emotional evening, the only thing I'd wanted was ice cream, pajamas and a sappy romance movie. I loved chick flicks. They were my dirty little secret. I didn't even think Clare knew of my obsession. Yes, I'd given up on men...but in films, they were perfect. They always came through in the end, kept their promises and loved with every fiber of their being.
I loved seeing that moment when the man would hover, right before he leaned in to kiss a woman, and I found myself screaming, "Kiss her!! Kiss her!!"
Then he would, and it was just so toe curling, heart melting and good. I knew it was a movie magic lie, but the girl in me loved seeing it even if it weren't true. Although, I guessed a few men like this did exist. Logan loved Clare to the moon and back, but I think he was a special breed, and I didn't have the energy to comb through the male species looking for an anomaly anymore.
After walking from the kitchen to my living room, I snuggled down onto my comfy brown suede sofa, grabbed my favorite furry red fleece blanket and sighed in happiness. Who needed to date? This was perfect —Ice cream, fuzzy slippers and perfect men on film who didn't expect anything in return. Perfect.
Just as I hit Play on the Blu-ray player to watch Dirty Dancing for the four hundredth time, my doorbell rang. Confusion hit me as I looked at the clock. It was ten at night.
Who was ringing my doorbell at such a late hour? And since when did ten at night become so late? Damn, I was boring.
Who the hell could that be? I briefly hoped it was my hot new neighbor from three doors down needing to borrow a cup of sugar, but knowing my luck, it would probably be a punk-ass kid playing Ding-Dong ditch.
I threw off the blanket, and with the ice cream still in hand, I stormed to the door, slightly annoyed that I wasn't beginning my cha-cha lessons with Patrick Swayze at that moment.
I opened the front door, and froze.
Holy f*cking hell.
Declan James. On my porch. Looking sexy as hell.
And I was...in a bathrobe and fuzzy slippers. Shit!
His hazel green eyes ran down my body, scanning my attire, lingering on my legs peeking through the parting of my robe, before stopping at my hand.
"Do you always eat ice cream in a coffee mug?" He leisurely leaned against my door frame.
He was sporting a cocky smile that had my hormones going haywire.
"What? Yes, the handle keeps my hand from getting cold," I blurted out.
Oh my God, why was he here? At my house. And holy hell, why did he have to smell so good?
"What the hell are you doing here?" I finally asked.
His eyes found mine, and he smirked. He was clearly amused. God, six months hadn't made him any less sexy. His wavy brown hair was pushed back, making his piercing hazel eyes stand out against his handsome face. Unshaven, and wearing a leather jacket, he was the epitome of a bad boy.
Every part of me wanted to take him for a ride —again.
Oh God, my greatest weakness had come for a visit.
"My film got the green light, so I'm in town for the next three months or so. Thought I'd stop by and pay you a visit," he answered.
He brushed past me, entering the house like he'd just been invited in, which he hadn't.
My lust filled haze cleared a bit, and it was replaced with a bit of annoyance.
Who the hell did this guy think he was?
"So, you got into town, and you thought you'd pay me a visit? Why? To say hello? Needed a friendly chat Declan?" I asked, clearly peeved.
I'd had an emotional day.
He sat himself on my sofa, draping his arms over the back like he owned the f*cking place as he grinned at me. He was too big for the room. My living room was literally being swallowed up by his presence.
"No, I think you know exactly why I'm here Leah," he said, he voice deepening.
His eyes darkened, sending shivers down my spine and straight to my core. All traces of playfulness disappeared. This was the Declan I remembered —the predator, the great seducer.
The man who had taken me again and again all night, sending me over the edge more times than I could count. His hands had touched every inch of my skin. His mouth had kissed every intimate part of my body. No man had ever filled me so completely and owned me as he had.
And here he was, like an offering from the gods.
"No," I whispered.
"No?" Are you seeing someone?" he asked, suddenly jumping off the couch and stalking toward me.
"No, I'm not seeing anyone."
His movements slowed, and he visibly relaxed. He continued his journey toward me, but it changed from an angry stalk to a casual swagger. I watched him, loving the confidence in his gait and the determination in his eyes, knowing it was all focused on me.
"Then I don't see a problem here, Leah," he whispered in my ear as he pressed his firm body against mine. "We were good together. Don't you remember?"
Brushing back the golden strands off my neck, he slowly pushed the bathrobe off my shoulder, taking my tank top strap with it. Undoing the belt of my robe with his other hand, he let it fall to the floor in a heap, leaving me in my tank top and tight pajama shorts. His eyes took an appreciative gaze over my exposed flesh, causing my nipples to harden instantly. He smiled, knowing the effect his touch was having on me.
Leaning forward, Declan grazed his lips over my bare shoulder, making me shudder from the touch.
"I can remind you, one more time. Don't you want that?"
I heard the words, and tried to process them in the foggy mush that was my brain. One more time. He'd just arrived. He wasn't here because he needed me, or wanted me as much as much as I wanted him. I was his f*cking booty call, an easy lay for someone who had just gotten into town.
Anger flooded my system, and I pushed him away. I'd had a long day and this was just the icing on the cake. A movie star coming by for a quick f*ck. Perfect.
"Get out."
He looked confused, but then his trademark smile came back. I could tell he was ready to throw out more bullshit that I wouldn't fall for again.
"No, seriously, get out. I'm not your booty call, Declan. I'm not going to spread my legs just because you showed up at my doorstep. Just because you're in town for three months doesn't mean I suddenly have an open-door policy. I am not your f*cking groupie."
Momentarily stunned, he looked around the room until he saw a pen and a notepad resting on the coffee table. He stalked over to the small table, grabbed the pen and angrily scribbled something before ripping the sheet of paper off the notepad and handing it to me.
"This is where I'm staying in town and the name my room is booked under."
Rejection must be a new thing for Declan because he looked conflicted, pissed and seriously sexy. With his eyes wild and intense, he took a deep breath as he ran his hands through that unruly hair. Suddenly, he grabbed me around the waist, and took my mouth in a fierce kiss. Surprise, lust, anger, and confusion all invaded my system and I both pulled him closer and tried to push him away. His taste was exactly the same —completely addictive. Instincts had me diving in, needing him like my next breath, but the logical side of me that had been hurt too many times needed him to leave.
Before I could make a decision, he abruptly pushed away looking smug.
"Call me if you change your mind," he said before walking out the door, letting it close with a soft click behind him.
Making my way to the door, I let my head fall forward until it hit the hard wood with a thump, echoing my mood. "F*ck!" I cursed out in frustration.
"Heard that!" Declan yelled from the other side of the door, as his loud laughter faded away.
Bastard.
At least he didn't see my hand shake as I locked to the door. I could never let that man know how much he affected me. It would be my undoing.
"He just showed up at your doorstep?" Clare asked.
We nibbled on turkey sandwiches from the picnic basket she'd brought. Picnics in November were rare, considering the temperature in Virginia was usually in the fifties, but today was oddly warm, and we were taking advantage.
"Yep. Six months of nothing, and there he was, at my house in all of his sexy masculine glory."
"And he just expected you to fall down at his feet, thanking him for the opportunity to service him?" she asked.
"Pretty much."
"That arrogant bastard! Logan, did you know Declan was back in town?" Clare called out to her husband.
Logan was currently pushing their five-year-old daughter in the nearby swing. "No, baby," he said. "I haven't talked to him in months. We don't exactly run in the same circles anymore. Once he found out I was married, he figured he'd lost his wingman, so he hasn't called much."
Clare gave a quick snort. "Hmm, well, apparently, he's here for a while. I'm sure he'll stop by at some point. I mean, you would think a good friend would at least check in. Right, Leah?"
"Mmhmm," I answered. I was completely bored with this conversation now that I'd found something much better to focus on. I tried to be a good friend, I really did.
"Leah!" Clare scolded. "Can you please refrain from staring at my husband's ass?"
"Sweetie, you can ask all you want, but it's not going to change my answer. Besides, it's not like I have much else to look at," I answered halfheartedly. I completely dismissed my best friend's request as I continued to ogle.
Logan gave a quick grin and wink in our direction before returning his attention to his duties as the official swing pusher.
Flirt.
I tried pulling my eyes away from Logan, Clare's perfectly built husband. It was difficult. Even almost six months into cancer treatment, he was still a hot piece of ass. Long and lean, he was built like a swimmer. He'd lost a bit of weight when he started chemo, but he'd still kept his handsome features. He'd shaved his head, opting to take it all at once, and damn if the man didn't look sexier that way.
"Hey, Logan told me what you did for him the other night with the kid. Thank you. He was pretty wrecked when he got home," she said quietly while Logan's attention was diverted. She looked at me with a meaningful smile.
"Anytime, babe."
Successfully turning my attention away from Logan, my eyes traveled until they found something else entirely —my Maddie, my beautiful goddaughter. She was the best present a best friend could give. She was the spitting image of Clare and her late husband, Ethan. Sometimes, it hurt to look at Maddie, seeing Ethan's eyes shining through, but knowing he lived on brought me hope. She carried his wisdom and love, and being around her always made me want to be a better person. Clare was the best mother a child could have, having been raised by amazing parents herself, and it showed in everything Maddie did. She was perfection.
Logan laughed while Maddie kicked her feet back and forth excitedly as he pushed her higher and higher. He was healing. I could see it. Two months ago, he wouldn't have been able to do this, but here he was, slowly regaining his strength. His doctors hadn't given him a clean bill of health yet, but it was coming. He was coming back to us slowly, and the outlook was very optimistic.
Knowing Clare wouldn't have to suffer the loss of another husband was a relief I couldn't put into words. Losing her first husband, Ethan, had almost killed her. The only thing that had kept her going was Maddie. Knowing she had to care for that tiny innocent child had given her the will to carry on. That was, until she'd met Logan. Then, I had seen her come alive again. That glowing radiance she carried with her in her movements, her voice, and her smile —it had all come back when Logan entered her life.
And then, we'd found out that Logan had cancer. It was ironic how life could be so cruel. But here we were, six months later, and I was finally able to take a breath again. I felt like I'd been stepping on eggshells for months, waiting for our world to come crashing down again. But seeing Logan playing with Maddie in the park gave me hope.
"So, what are you going to do?" Clare asked.
She knew full well that my dismissal the other evening wasn't the last I'd see of Declan James. My body and mind wouldn't allow it. Saying no to him had taken almost every bit of will I had. I was drawn to him, and it was just a matter of time before I found myself at that hotel, knocking on his door.
I needed this time to form a plan —or at least to make him sweat it out a bit. I couldn't be his sloppy seconds or his late-night booty call. I didn't want a relationship, but I wouldn't be a doormat either. I felt like I was being pulled in two different directions. I wanted to run as quickly and as far away as possible, knowing he could end me if he tried, yet the more I told myself to stay away, the more I wanted to throw caution to the wind and get to that hotel as quickly as possible. After Daniel, my college sweetheart that turned out to be anything but and a childhood of mistrust —thanks to a father who really gave definition to the word deadbeat —I couldn't afford to give my trust to another man who didn't deserve it.
"I don't know, but I do know one thing. It will be on my f*cking terms."