International Guy: Milan, San Francisco, Montreal (International Guy Volumes Book 2) Page 13

  Tracey comes up behind me. “What is he doing?” She lifts her chin toward Parker.

  I cross my arms over my chest and rub at my biceps. “He’s got some idea for the director on how Rick and I can work on our chemistry . . . romantically.” I purse my lips and glance at my best friend.

  “I’m sorry, Birdie, I don’t think I heard you. Your boyfriend is talking to the director on how to best get you and your insanely handsome model costar to have more romantic chemistry on the screen?”

  “Yep,” I state with absolute pride.

  Tracey frowns deeply. “Am I the only one who thinks this is really freakin’ weird?”

  I shake my head. “Nope.”

  It is weird. And charming. My man hears I have a problem and sets about helping me fix it, even if it’s something that would make any man uncomfortable. Because he cares more for me than the subject matter at hand. He wants me to succeed even at the price of making him uncomfortable.

  He’s amazing. Wonderful. Sexy. Strong. Intelligent.

  And I’m falling for him.

  I watch the animated conversation from afar while Rick comes up to my little huddle with Tracey. “Your guy is a little intimidating,” Rick admits.

  I chuckle. “Yes, he is. And hot as fuck.” I smile and take in all of my man while both Tracey and Rick roar with laughter.

  Parker comes back, his swagger in full swing. He’s wearing a pair of jeans that form to his well-toned thighs to absolute perfection. He’s paired them with a tailored, long-sleeved black sweater. The black shows off his strong neck and brings out his sparkling blue eyes. As he walks, his sandy-brown hair is glinting a coppery color off the set lights, making my fingers itch to run through it, preferably while riding on top of him.

  “All set!”

  “What is?” I go straight into his arms as the director shouts for the actors to get in hair, makeup, and wardrobe. “What in the world did you do?”

  “You’ll see . . .” He smirks and smacks me on the ass. “Go get ready, I’ve got to chat with Rick.”

  I blink a few times and shake my head. “Fine. Like I said, I trust you.”

  There wasn’t much to be done for my hair since I’d already styled it this morning. Though I was surprised to be put back into the bra-and-panty set for the beginning of the love scene. It starts in the bathroom while my character is getting ready.

  Breathe, Skyler. It’s going to be okay. Parker understands.

  I take a few yoga breaths as the cameraman gets into position.

  “Skyler, you’re at the fluffing-your-hair position,” the director calls out, and I raise my arms and stand on my mark, watching myself in the mirror.

  “Ready . . . set . . . action,” she calls out, and the cameras float toward me as I work my hair and assess myself in the mirror. My breasts are pushed up high in the pink lacy bra, the matching bikini bottom edged in the same fine detail.

  “Angel . . .” I hear my character called from behind me, but not by Rick, by Parker.

  I turn around, my body and my gaze heating instantly at the sight of his bare chest, muscles on full display. He’s got his jeans on with one button undone, showing off a bigger slice of his happy trail I adore. The bit of hair leading down to his cock makes my mouth water and has my temperature rising.

  I blank out for a mere second, realizing I’m supposed to play along. “Phoenix, you shouldn’t be here. They may find you.” I whisper the lines, using the hero’s name, Rick’s character, as Parker moves closer.

  Parker reaches me and runs a hand from my shoulder down over my breast, which has me mewling with need and excitement. “Nothing’s going to happen to you when we’re together. We’re magic, Angel. Don’t you know that by now?” He mimics my costar’s lines.

  “Phoenix . . . ,” I gasp as Parker’s head falls to my neck and he runs a line of kisses from the crook of my shoulder to up behind my ear. He lets his lips drag across my ear.

  Ripples of pleasure soar through my body as Parker cups my chin and throat, commanding, unrelenting, putting me where he wants me. His lips come down to mine, and I sink into his kiss. He ravishes me with his mouth, deep plunges of his tongue swirling with mine. I wrap my arms around his neck while his hands fly to my ass. He grinds his denim-clad crotch against my flimsy lace, and I moan, sighing into his kiss and movements. He lifts me up and plants me on the vanity.

  I forget where I am, who’s watching, and what we’re doing. He makes me forget everything else but him.

  His lips.

  His minty taste.

  His thick erection pressing against me.

  His warm skin all around me.

  His breath between each plunge of his tongue.

  I’m losing my mind. He’s stealing my heart. I’ve got nothing left, I’ve already given him my body.

  “Parker . . . ,” I whisper when his mouth drags down my neck to the tops of my breasts.

  “Cut!” I hear screamed through the bullhorn.

  I grip my man, digging my nails into his shoulder blades. “Fuck,” I whisper, and Parker’s body starts to shake against mine. He runs his hands up my back and cups my cheeks.

  He’s laughing, his entire body moving with each guffaw. “Baby, you forgot where you were. I get my mouth on you, and you light up. Fuckin’ love it.” He kisses me once, hard.

  “Duuuuude! That. Was. The. Shit!” Rick claps. “Skyler Bear, we have to do exactly that for the cameras!”

  I slide off the vanity and hide most of my body against Parker’s front until my stage assistant hands me my fluffy robe. Parker pulls it around my back, covering me up first so I can shimmy my arms into each hole and keep a modicum of my privacy.

  “It’s not easy, Rick,” I mumble, my cheeks heating with the embarrassment of losing myself on set.

  “Why the heck not! You’re an amazing actress!” he gushes.

  “Yeah, why not, Peaches?” Parker kisses the top of my forehead.

  “Because you’re not my man!” I want to stomp my foot and cross my arms like a child who isn’t getting her way.

  Before anyone can respond, the director approaches. “Mr. Ellis, that was exactly what I want to see on screen! If you ever decide to enter the acting business, let me know. I’d film you in a second. You look good on camera.”

  Parker chuckles. “That’s kind of you, but this was a one-time cameo. Now, Rick, did you see how I approached Skyler with confidence? Baby, will you humor me and stand right here like he’s going to approach you in the scene?”

  I do what he asks.

  Rick immediately steps to Parker’s side, pulls off his own T-shirt, showing his muscular body and getting into character. It’s not as good as Parker’s chest, but then again, I’ve tasted and touched Parker’s intimately. It’s mine and I love it.

  “Use your swagger, and when you approach her, don’t be timid. You have to show through each finger impression on her skin, every kiss you bestow, that you are into her.”

  Rick licks his lips and bites the bottom one as if he’s really focusing. Poor thing. This is his first big role and romantic scene with an A-list actress. I’m not tooting my own horn, just stating a fact. I remember back when I was in his very position. It’s not an easy battle to overcome.

  “Now, approach her, and grip her body as though she’s your woman and you can’t wait to get her under you.”

  I wait while Rick approaches. “Phoenix . . . ,” I whisper, stating my line so he can get into character. “You shouldn’t be here. They may find you.”

  Rick hooks his arm around my waist, and his eyes pierce mine with an aggressive grit he didn’t have before. He says his line while running his hands up and down my arms before cupping my jaw and throat the same way Parker did. He kisses me, and I’m happy to taste mint. The same minty taste my guy chews between meals. I close my eyes and try to imagine I’m kissing my man, getting into it the same way I did with Parker.

  The director calls out, “Cut!” We both pull away from one anoth
er. Rick is grinning like a loon.

  “Exactly what I was looking for,” the director calls out. “Sky, lose the robe. Makeup, freshen her up. Everyone get into position, we’re shooting this right now while it’s smokin’ hot! And Parker, you’re with me behind the camera. Want your thoughts on the scene and the ones following. And, I owe you a bottle of your favorite liquor for making it happen.” She points to Rick and me.

  Yes, my man is quite the charmer. And a genius.

  “I love your boyfriend, Skyler. He’s the shit!” Rick gushes, looking at Parker as though the sun rose and set on him.

  I think I’m falling in love with him too.

  “He absolutely is,” I say, instead of admitting my deepest, wildest thoughts.

  Parker follows the director but glances over his shoulder back my way.

  “Have I told you today how much I like you,” I call out, and bite into my bottom lip, cocking an eyebrow for his benefit.

  “You don’t have to tell me. I felt it in your kiss.” He tosses his sweater over his shoulder like he walks through a movie set half-naked all the time and continues chatting with the director.

  I shake my head and let makeup tend to me while I think about Parker.

  The man really can do anything.

  How will I ever measure up?

  The end . . . for now.

  SAN FRANCISCO: INTERNATIONAL GUY BOOK 5

  To my bossy beta, Tracey Wilson Vuolo.

  San Francisco is for you.

  I feel it’s the place where soul sisters were made . . .

  brought together from different coasts . . .

  united through the love of books.

  I’m honored to have borne witness to it.

  1

  “Whiskey neat. Two fingers.” Royce’s voice sounds like rolling thunder off in the distance as I push my way through the other first-class patrons to the empty seat next to my partner. “Look who finally made his appearance.” He cocks a questioning eyebrow.

  I smile at the flight attendant who took his drink order. “Beer. Sierra Nevada if you have it.”

  “We do. I’ll be back shortly.” The thin, pretty woman smiles before heading to the galley.

  “Yeah, yeah. I know I cut it close, but I’m here.” I shove my briefcase into the overhead bin, remove my sport coat, and set it on the hanger in front of my seat.

  Royce lays his hands over his stomach, fingers interlaced. “Was worried you might pull a skip, seeing as you were supposed to be back two days ago.” His lips have a slight curl to them, proving he’s not angry but giving me shit on purpose.

  I turn a bit in my seat. “Couldn’t be helped. Once Sky and I did the lunch interview on set a few days ago, the crowds went crazy. Tracey suggested we go out around town, give them something more to capture, which, as you know, took the heat off the IG offices.”

  Royce nods. “True. Gotta be rough, dating an A-list celebrity. Imagine everyone wants a piece of your girl and you . . . by default.”

  By default.

  His words zip through me like an approaching storm, rumbling and growling with the promise of a full downpour. Being with someone like Skyler is unimaginable for a regular guy like me. It’s the shit they make movies about. Hell, a movie she’d play a starring role in. Then where would I be? The hero who won the girl, or the one that got passed over for someone better suited to her lifestyle?

  I push those irritating thoughts aside and focus on the here and now. “Yeah well, all the pieces are mine. At least the pieces that count.” I smirk, and he shakes his head. “Besides, I’m here, and we’re heading to Cali right on time. Now, bring me up to date on our client. You said her name is Rochelle?”

  When I pose the question, Royce smiles, and his face takes on a dreamy, serene quality. Shit. As I suspected from our chat last week, he’s already gonzo for the woman.

  This is not good. Especially since we’ve been hired to find her a man.

  “Top-notch businesswoman, beautiful, intelligent. The shit she pulls with numbers, the logical analytic approach she takes is second to none, man. And I know numbers. They never lie. This woman has an uncanny ability to anticipate market fluctuations and profit and losses, making her one of the all-time best financiers in the business.”

  “Sounds like you’d trust her to manage your money.” I toss out the carrot to see if he bites.

  Royce sits up and fluffs his suit coat. “I have mad respect for her skills. It’s an art form the way she works.”

  “Really? An art form?” I grin and lean back into the comfortable seat.

  “Yeah. Not a lot of people can do what she can do, especially at her age.”

  “Oh yeah? How old is Ms. Renner?”

  He doesn’t even have to look at her file before answering.

  “Twenty-eight.”

  “And you happened to memorize her age.”

  Royce frowns. “I did my homework, which is much more than I can say about you, I might add.”

  “You could say that, but I did read through her file on the plane from New York. I wouldn’t necessarily have remembered her exact age. When does she turn twenty-nine?”

  “December 1 . . . ,” he says automatically, then realizes his error and firms his lips into a flat line before glancing out the window as if the airport tarmac is the most interesting thing he’s seen all day.

  “Brother . . .”

  Royce lifts a hand. “I have a good memory. Don’t read anything into it.”

  I shake my head and am about to dig into how much he knows about Ms. Renner when the flight attendant approaches with our drinks.

  “Here you go,” she says to Royce and me. “Please buckle up, the captain is going to prepare for takeoff now.”

  “Thank you.” I smile at the efficient woman. She’s nice looking, tall, a little on the thin side. Not much for curves. I’d put her at about a six to a seven on my sexy scale, which means she could score herself a man who’s around a five in the looks department and he’d worship the ground she walks on.

  I sip on my beer and let the cool taste of the hops settle in my gut as I mull over how to best approach what I think is going on in Royce’s head.

  “Look, Roy . . .”

  “Park, respect, brother, but you have no business telling me anything when you’re currently bedded down with a client, and not for the first time. Frankly, I don’t want to hear it.” He puts his drink to his lips, his shoulders shifting toward the window.

  I know better than to push Roy when he feels he’s being backed into a corner. The bruiser inside will come out fighting if provoked. Still, I wouldn’t be a good friend if I didn’t put out there what my intuition is telling me.

  I try a different approach. “It’s cool, man. Happy to be here with you. Mind showing me what the two of you have discussed with her profile?”

  Royce nods succinctly, sets his drink on the armrest between us, and leans over to retrieve his briefcase. He pulls out a blue file and opens it on his lap.

  “Here, we’ve filled in the particulars about her. Educated, wealthy, city girl. Doesn’t have much in the way of family. Work is her life. Looking to have a child, lay down a legacy to leave her business to one day.”

  “I know a guy like that.” I chuckle, and Roy’s gaze lifts to mine, the happy sparkle I’m used to seeing in his eyes now present . . . thank fuck. I’d much rather be on his good side. No one wants to be on his bad side.

  Roy continues with a smirk. “Lives alone, penthouse in the heart of the city.”

  Opposite of Royce. He has a three-bedroom, two-bath home, complete with front and back yards he mows every weekend without fail. Says he wants to keep the neighbors off his back, but I think he likes things looking pristine. He’s proud of what he has achieved against all the odds.

  “Penthouse . . . wow. Far cry from the family life you’ve always mentioned wanting,” I state, needing to see if Royce’s attraction is truly an attraction and nothing more.

  “What are you
gettin’ at, Park?” His face becomes a blank mask.

  I clench my teeth and hold my breath, wondering if I’ve tweaked his temper. “Not much, just pointing out an observation.”

  He grabs his drink and takes a healthy sip, pointing a finger at me around his glass. “And your girl, where does she live again?” His voice is deeper, a touch of indignation fluttering along the edges.

  Dammit! I was trying so hard not to back Roy in a corner, I did it to myself.

  “Not only a plane ride away, but in a swank penthouse, if I remember correctly,” he adds accurately, making one helluva point.

  I lift my hands in surrender. “I get it. You win. You’re right. Skyler and I do currently have a long-distance relationship, but it’s not across three thousand miles.”

  Royce moves to interject, but I cut him off.

  “And . . . she loves Boston. With her job, she can live anywhere in the world. I won’t leave my family or business behind. Would you?”

  For some reason, his nonanswer feels weighted, like a heavy burden placed around my shoulders. Here we are, two men looking at our futures, women who—on the surface—seem absolutely perfect, and yet we both have some major hurdles to jump. I couldn’t be happier in my relationship with Skyler. As much as our seeing one another is limited, those times are filled with connection, laughter, incredible sex, and talk of the future. She’s a woman I can share my day with, my hopes and dreams, as well as bring home to my mother and my team. Skyler fits into my world in a way I never thought possible.

  What happened in my past destroyed my idea of having a loving relationship built on trust and mutual care for one another. Skyler single-handedly rebuilt that desire.

  One kiss at a time.

  One hug.

  One whispered promise.

  She has filled my heart with unending possibilities, ones I can’t wait to explore further. I want that for Royce. He deserves to have the world, and as his brother, I feel as though it’s my role to help keep an eye out. Make sure he’s not making a shit decision based on mere lust, but on genuine connection and compatibility. Since my time with Skyler, I know what that looks like now, how to spot it more clearly than ever before.