wonder faded to irritation, her chest heaving with indignation. “Vanity pets? Vanity pets! Muffin is not a vanity pet.”
“Well of course not,” he said, unable to peel his eyes off the flush spreading along her milky skin. “That is not one of those purebred, froufrou animals.”
Bella relaxed and started swiping a few stray dog hairs off her black jeans.
He couldn’t resist needling her. “She’s too damn ugly to be a vanity pet.”
“Ugly?” she gasped, her hands fisting. “I cannot believe you just called my precious Muffin ugly.”
The door leading to the cockpit creaked open… Then closed again as the folks up front must have realized no one was in danger.
Damn, Bella was hot when she got all fired up, which led him to keep right on stoking the flames. “Good God, have you checked out your dog’s Billy Idol snarl lately?”
“Shush!” She glanced back at the sleeping dog as if somehow the animal might understand his words. “She’s a sweetie pie.”
“I never said she wasn’t—”
“Last time I checked—” she staked closer, jabbing a finger in his chest “—it’s the inside that counts, not appearance. If I turned ugly tomorrow, would you stop being my friend?”
“We’re friends?” That was a start.
“We were.”
Were? Past tense? Not so fast, Bella. He advanced a step, pushing his chest against her poking pointer finger. “So you consider yourself beautiful.”
She snatched her hand back and crossed her arms. “I don’t consider myself vain. Understanding strengths and weaknesses is a part of the business.”
Something niggled at him about her reasoning. “Am I to assume you believe you’re only chosen for roles because of your looks?”
“I want to be taken seriously as an actress. That’s why I fought so hard to get the lead in this film.” Her fists unfurled and she studied her nails. “My brothers were always the brains in the family.”
He thought of a thousand ways she’d shown her innate intelligence in the short time he’d known her—her knowledge of French architecture while they’d been shopping. Her quick wit. He could think of a number of other examples, but he suspected she would just brush those aside in embarrassment.
What a strange dichotomy she presented. One of America’s hottest women was a mass of insecurities.
Since he couldn’t tell her what he really wanted to—that she was so damn hot and smart he wanted to take her behind that curtain and tangle up with her on the bed until they landed in the States—he opted for, “I’m sorry for saying your dog is ugly.”
Muffin perked up in the leather chair, her ears twitched. Damned if that mutt actually could understand humans.
The dog jumped to the ground and scampered to her owner. Bella scooped her up and snuggled her scruffy pet under her chin. “Muffin forgives you. But it may take me a little while longer.”
“For what it’s worth, I think Billy Idol is a badass.” He winked, stroking a finger along Muffin’s chin, then Bella’s.
She froze.
Her chest rose and fell faster, her lips parting with each gusty breath. Memories of their night together flared to life in his mind until he could taste her, feel her even without touching. He was right to link up with her this way. They both deserved more of what they’d shared in his suite. He wouldn’t let her be so foolish as to throw away a chance at enjoying the chemistry between them until it ran its course.
He stroked her cheek with his knuckles. When she didn’t twitch away, he leaned toward her, already anticipating the explosion of sensation that would come just from sealing his mouth to hers—
The PA crackled to life. “Mr. Garrison,” the pilot’s voice called over the speaker, “we’re heading into some turbulence. You will both need to buckle into your seats, please.”
Bella blinked fast, clutched her dog closer and angled past him double-time without a word. Her silence and evasive eyes were all the more telling than any words of dismissal.
All talk of friendship and no sex be damned, she wanted him, too. Now he just needed to show some restraint until that desire grew so taut she came to him.
Bella stood on her front stoop with Sam as the sun hovered low on the horizon. While it was only suppertime in California, she was suffering from a serious case of jet lag. A car’s motor sounded in the distance but continued around the drive toward Hudson Manor’s twelve-car parking garage.
Sam pressed a hand to the door frame, stopping her from passing. “So this is your place.”
She leaned against the railing, not as eager to leave as she would have expected. The whole allergy pills incident still whirled around in her head. He may not have taken the meds just for her, but he was continuing to do so because of Muffin and that tugged at her heart.
Beyond that, she was relieved to see his unmistakable disapproval of drugs. She’d witnessed firsthand the ruin too much money could bring to people who snorted their wealth up their noses. “I moved here to the guesthouse a few years ago to live on my own. Of course it’s obvious I didn’t move too far away from my relatives.”
She’d made her big independent stand by moving across the lawn and redecorating the two-bedroom, one-story cottage in a shabby chic, Bohemian style totally at odds with the French Provincial formality of Hudson Manor.
She’d needed to step out of her very large family’s shadow, find her own style and voice. Right after moving in, she’d painted each room according to different moods. Blue ceilings to evoke the sky. Green-painted hardwood floors with sea-grass mats to ground her in the natural world. Her bedroom ceiling was dotted with stars. She’d even used a constellation map for accuracy but regretted that the night sky was permanently set to October. She made a home for herself rather than letting some decorator stamp his own personality onto her life.
Security lights flickered on as the sun drifted deeper into the horizon. Her childhood house loomed in the distance, a fifty-five-room white stone and wrought-iron mansion. Fifteen acres of sculpted landscape afforded plenty of privacy here.
Privacy with her whole big family all around. She eyed the lengthy garage in the distance and all the doors were closed. She tucked deeper onto the porch so a sprawling tree would block them from any curious eyes in the main house.
She stared up into Sam’s mesmerizing gray eyes, allowing herself a moment to just sink into their appeal. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For bringing me home, for the shopping trip in Paris, for clotheslining the reporter, for offering to come with me to the premiere, for taking allergy pills.” She stared down, scuffing her red heels along the stone step. “For respecting my stance on no more sex.”
“I respect your opinion, but make no mistake, that doesn’t mean I agree.”
She
