Read Online The Movie Star's Red Hot Holiday Fling: A novella (Entangled Indulgence) (Sweetbriar Springs) by Christine Glover - Free Book Online
Authors: Christine Glover
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up. “I’m done. You want me to get you a drink?”
She shot him a sassy look. “I’m good, but I’d love some company.”
His cell phone beeped. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Tell those dudes in Hollywood to quit interrupting us.” She stretched out her long legs, giving him a perfect view of her luscious thighs.
“This is important.”
“I can wait.”
He checked the text message from Constanza. He’d asked about the day the bomb had gone off, hoping the gunnery sergeant could provide information that would relieve Jessie’s survivor guilt. After reading Constanza’s reply, Blake responded with his thanks. This intel, along with their staff sergeant’s recollections, would prove that Jessie wasn’t responsible for the blast.
Another message beeped. Blake checked the incoming text from his director. They would read the script, but there was no guarantee of the studio’s approval. Gritting his jaw, feeling a headache form at the base of his skull, he zipped off a terse reply. A “no” to the script would be “no” to him continuing to act for the franchise. And he wanted to clock serious time as a director.
If they wanted their sex symbol to get in front of the camera, they would have to adjust their thinking.
He pushed away from the desk, then walked to his window to watch the sun set, the brilliant blue sky transforming to orange, pink, and red hues.
Time was running out.
Blake went to the bar. “Chardonnay or sparkling water?” he asked as he poured a stiff single-malt scotch neat.
“Better stick with the water. O’dark thirty comes awful early after a night with you.”
He laughed. He’d miss Jessie’s snarky sense of humor along with her hot body. A body that might have been made only for him—she was his equal in so many ways.
“You could cut me some slack.” He cracked open the water bottle. “Let me sleep in.”
She smiled. “Then we’d have less time in the sauna. And you give the best massages.”
Heat flashed. Hell, he’d miss her more than a lot. When he first met Jessie, she’d stubbornly refused help and pushed everyone who loved her away with a force born out of despair. Now sparkles lighted in her slate blue eyes. The spunky, all-American kid that Shannon Sullivan had raised was back.
He filled her glass and carried both drinks to the living area. “How about I give you another massage?” He sat and passed her the glass.
“Please.”
He pulled her legs onto his lap and caressed the taut muscular thighs. “It’ll have to be a quickie.”
“I like your massages any way you want to give them.”
Later, after they’d massaged their way back into the bedroom and Jessie had fallen asleep, Blake slipped out of bed. He gazed at her, memorizing the slant of her fine nose and the lush sweep of dark lashes on her high cheeks. Damn it. He liked Jessie. He liked her family. He even liked her family’s friends. He cared. That scared the hell out of him. Caring too much could lead to wanting something neither of them could give.
Why did the idea put a cold feeling in his lungs? Blake resisted the urge to crawl back into bed and hold her. Instead, he went to the living room window. Moonlight illuminated the smoky mountains, giving them a ghostly veil. He didn’t want to leave her with a shallow memory.
He wanted to give Jessie something more tangible to hang onto after he left.
They’d talked once about the day she’d been injured. Blake mulled over the scenarios that Constanza and Woodall had remembered. Something didn’t add up…and then the dots connected. He rushed to his desk and opened his laptop to switch on another program. If he was right, this program would give Jessie what she needed to grab the life she deserved.
Even if it was without him.
Chapter Eight
After she finished working out with Blake on Monday morning, Jessie hurried to double-check the state of the ladies’ lounge off the main dining hall. Two of the women she’d met
She shot him a sassy look. “I’m good, but I’d love some company.”
His cell phone beeped. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Tell those dudes in Hollywood to quit interrupting us.” She stretched out her long legs, giving him a perfect view of her luscious thighs.
“This is important.”
“I can wait.”
He checked the text message from Constanza. He’d asked about the day the bomb had gone off, hoping the gunnery sergeant could provide information that would relieve Jessie’s survivor guilt. After reading Constanza’s reply, Blake responded with his thanks. This intel, along with their staff sergeant’s recollections, would prove that Jessie wasn’t responsible for the blast.
Another message beeped. Blake checked the incoming text from his director. They would read the script, but there was no guarantee of the studio’s approval. Gritting his jaw, feeling a headache form at the base of his skull, he zipped off a terse reply. A “no” to the script would be “no” to him continuing to act for the franchise. And he wanted to clock serious time as a director.
If they wanted their sex symbol to get in front of the camera, they would have to adjust their thinking.
He pushed away from the desk, then walked to his window to watch the sun set, the brilliant blue sky transforming to orange, pink, and red hues.
Time was running out.
Blake went to the bar. “Chardonnay or sparkling water?” he asked as he poured a stiff single-malt scotch neat.
“Better stick with the water. O’dark thirty comes awful early after a night with you.”
He laughed. He’d miss Jessie’s snarky sense of humor along with her hot body. A body that might have been made only for him—she was his equal in so many ways.
“You could cut me some slack.” He cracked open the water bottle. “Let me sleep in.”
She smiled. “Then we’d have less time in the sauna. And you give the best massages.”
Heat flashed. Hell, he’d miss her more than a lot. When he first met Jessie, she’d stubbornly refused help and pushed everyone who loved her away with a force born out of despair. Now sparkles lighted in her slate blue eyes. The spunky, all-American kid that Shannon Sullivan had raised was back.
He filled her glass and carried both drinks to the living area. “How about I give you another massage?” He sat and passed her the glass.
“Please.”
He pulled her legs onto his lap and caressed the taut muscular thighs. “It’ll have to be a quickie.”
“I like your massages any way you want to give them.”
Later, after they’d massaged their way back into the bedroom and Jessie had fallen asleep, Blake slipped out of bed. He gazed at her, memorizing the slant of her fine nose and the lush sweep of dark lashes on her high cheeks. Damn it. He liked Jessie. He liked her family. He even liked her family’s friends. He cared. That scared the hell out of him. Caring too much could lead to wanting something neither of them could give.
Why did the idea put a cold feeling in his lungs? Blake resisted the urge to crawl back into bed and hold her. Instead, he went to the living room window. Moonlight illuminated the smoky mountains, giving them a ghostly veil. He didn’t want to leave her with a shallow memory.
He wanted to give Jessie something more tangible to hang onto after he left.
They’d talked once about the day she’d been injured. Blake mulled over the scenarios that Constanza and Woodall had remembered. Something didn’t add up…and then the dots connected. He rushed to his desk and opened his laptop to switch on another program. If he was right, this program would give Jessie what she needed to grab the life she deserved.
Even if it was without him.
Chapter Eight
After she finished working out with Blake on Monday morning, Jessie hurried to double-check the state of the ladies’ lounge off the main dining hall. Two of the women she’d met
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