Captivate, book I of the Love & Lust (9 page)

Eleven

Slade kicks up his feet and tucks his hands behind his head, lounging in the most beautiful suite he’s ever seen. The Egyptian cotton sheets feel like silk as he shifts to sink lower in the bed. The 65-inch TV before him blares loudly, giving him updates on yesterday’s football scores. Chelsea won 2-1 against Manchester United. Score!

From where he lies, he can see directly into the spacious bathroom. He was delighted to discover that the limestone floors are heated and the spa tub has a built-in TV so he can watch a game later.

“Now this is the dog’s bollocks.” He sighs, closing his eyes. How did he ever get so lucky?

He turns his head to look out onto the large private patio. The view of the canyon is spectacular from out there. A long, low fireplace runs along the edge of the patio, leading to a cluster of wicker outdoor chairs and loungers. To top it all off is the spa pool just for him, or Tamsin and a few friends.

Slade laughs and pushes up from the bed. He still can’t believe all of this is just for him. The space feels larger than his mother’s entire two-bed loft just outside of London.

He glances toward the clock and is shocked to find it’s only two in the afternoon, but it feels like he should be heading to bed. It will take a while for him to get used to the time change.

Popping his knuckles, Slade looks around his room. His gaze lands on the room service book. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to order something small,” he muses, feeling a bit peckish after the long flight.

With each new page he flips through, Slade’s smile broadens. Using the handheld phone on the bedside table, he places his order. He grabs the remote and flicks through the channels while he waits.

Nearly twenty minutes later, he rises to answer a knock at his door. “Just bring it on in—” He cuts off when he sees Ashlyn’s quizzical expression. “Oh, sorry. I thought you were room service.”

Her frown settles into place. “We’re having dinner in the restaurant downstairs in a couple of hours.”

Slade nods and leaps back into the bed. “I know. This was just a small snack.”

Ashlyn sighs and sits down in one of the white chairs in the sitting area. Slade turns up the volume on his show and gets comfortable on the bed. He watches Ashlyn from the corner of his eye, curious as to why she’s in his room and why she isn’t speaking.

“Is there something you wanted?”

“I figured since we had some free time, we could go over our schedule.”

“Really? Have you even stopped to see the view outside? It’s gorgeous and you want to talk shop. Do you only think about business?”

“Usually.” She opens her laptop and types in a password. Searching through her files, she finds the itinerary for their trip.

“That must be a drag.” He yawns and pauses the TV.
Might as well get this over with
, he thinks as he slips off the edge of his bed and saunters over to sit in the armchair across from her. He props his feet on the coffee table and laces his fingers together over his chest. “Bore away.”

“If I don’t keep us on schedule, this whole trip will fall apart,” she states matter-of-factly. He can tell he struck a nerve. “Tamsin is hard enough to keep an eye on. I don’t need to add you to my list too.”

Slade blows out a slow breath, his gaze shifting for a second before he snaps his fingers. “I’ve just figured it out. You’re one of those super control freaks that can’t stand to not boss people around.”

Ashlyn’s hands fall still over the keyboard. “I’m organized. There’s a difference.”

“Oh no.” He laughs, shaking his head. He pokes his finger at her. “You’ve got workaholic written all over you. It’s seeping from your pretty little pores!”

She sighs heavily and turns to face him. “Is there a point to all of this?”

He glances back to the mound of pillows adorning his bed, thinking yet again how it would be big enough to fit three people nicely. Or two. He stifles a chuckle when he glances over at Ashlyn, wondering if she’d be up for a little roll in the sack. Judging by the firm set of her lips, probably not. “You’re not the only one who notices things.”

He grins when she shifts uncomfortably in her chair. Apparently the thought of him paying attention to her annoys her, and if he’s not mistaken, it excites her just a little bit too.

She clears her throat and tucks her hair back behind her ear. Slade assume a more apt expression as she begins rattling off details. “Right, so first off, we’re in L.A. for two nights. The book signing will be held here at the Hotel Bel-Air. It’s a very nice luxury hotel so please treat it as such.”

“Hey.” Slade bristles. “I’m not a heathen, you know.”

She looks over the top of her glasses at him but says nothing. “The second stop will be at the Bellagio in Las Vegas. Then we’re off to Chicago, New York, and then back to London. The next two weeks will be the best of your life, I dare say, but they will also be tiring. You will work long hours, feel like your lips are going to fall off from all of the smiling, and you’ll be tempted in countless ways to screw this up. Don’t.”

Slade leans forward to fluff the pillow behind him. “I’ve got this.”

“I certainly hope so. A lot is riding on the successful release of this book. It’s not just your head on the chopping block.”

His smile falters slightly. He remembers hearing the concern in her voice when they spoke about this on the day they went shopping on Oxford Street. “I’m here to do a job, Ashlyn. I promise I won’t muck it up.”

She pauses for a second before smiling hesitantly. “Thank you. I know Tamsin doesn’t come across as being a worrywart like me, but she has her own things to worry about.”

Slade seriously doubts that. Tamsin doesn’t seem to have much on her mind other than having a good time, and from what he can tell, she’s an expert at that.

“Well, thanks for the update. I’ll be sure to add all of that to my schedule book.” He pushes up off the seat and heads back to his bed. He flops down onto the soft mattress and grabs the remote to hit play.

It takes just under a full minute for Ashlyn’s cheeks to redden and her mouth to gape open with shock. “Are you… are you watching porn?”

Slade grins. “Of course. It’s the only thing good on the
telly
at this time of day.”

She rolls her eyes. “Do you ever act your age?”

He pauses the movie and swings his legs over the bed. “What exactly do you think guys my age do, love? We fart, burp, and watch porn.”

Her lips curl with disgust so fast it makes him laugh. “We may be cute on the outside, but at the end of the day, we’re still guys.”

Ashlyn’s revulsion seems to lessen and is replaced by incredulity. “You know, I think you’re far more like Ender than you realize.”

“Why? Does he like porn too?” Slade snorts. He might actually like this guy if he were a real person.

Her frown melts into a smirk that almost borderlines smug. “Oh no, he gets plenty of action on his own.”

“And you think I don’t?” He rises off the bed and approaches her. She backs away, fighting to not look below his chin.

He knows she finds him appealing. He could tell from the way she watched him the day they spent shopping on Oxford Street. Her blush became a permanent stain as he modeled countless outfits just to get a rise out of her.

It’s the way she notices him but tries not to that he finds most attractive. He supposes under her T-shirt and jeans, her usual boring attire, there’s probably something rather pretty, but she’s always far too serious for his taste. He likes to have a good time with a girl, but Ashlyn Doyle is focused twenty-four-seven.

He stops only a couple feet from her and plants his hands on his hips. He watches as she swallows and tries to hold his direct gaze, but, just as he knew she would, she backs down.

 
“You are unbelievable,” she says as she leaps to her feet and brushes past him to answer the knock at the door. She opens it wide as a man ushers in a silver tray with a steaming plate under a dome. The room service attendant offers her the bill, which she quickly scans over.

Slade enjoys the way her cheeks flame and her nostrils flare. “You ordered steak and wine for a small snack?”

“What?” he says, grinning at the server as he grabs the bottle of wine from the cart and heads back to his bed. “I was hungry.”

Ashlyn gives the server a tightlipped smile before signing the bill and adding a generous tip on top. She ushers him back out of the room and turns on Slade. “Do you have any idea what this room costs? How much your little snack was, or how much your stupid porn will cost?”

Slade plods back across the room and grabs his medium-rare steak, fork, and knife. He lifts the plate to his nose and sniffs, savoring the meaty aroma. “They sure know how to make a good steak here,” he says.

“Are you even listening to me?” Ashlyn’s voice has reached screeching levels.

Slade groans and sets his plate on the bedside table, crossing his arms over his bare chest. It’s much warmer here in L.A. than it was in London. It’s a dry heat, something he’s not accustomed to. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, love. Sophie said all my expenses would be covered.”

She turns and points at the couple writhing on the screen. “
That
is coming out of your paycheck.”

“Fine.” Slade raises his hand and shoos her away. When she doesn’t move, he turns to grin at her. “You’re welcome to stay if you want, but I warn you, I might get a tad frisky if you do.”

“Urgh,” she groans and turns, stomping back out of his room. The door slams so hard behind her the mirror rocks on the wall.

“Wow. She sure is a feisty little minx.” Slade chuckles as he grabs his plate and turns up the volume. “I wonder what she’d be like in bed. It’s always the uptight ones you have to watch out for!”

He digs into his steak with every intention of enjoying the robust flavor and the hour-long entertainment on the TV, but Ashlyn has taken all the enjoyment out of it. The steak doesn’t taste quite as juicy, and the porn just seems bland.

What is it about her that riles him up so much? Is it that she always seems holier than thou around him?

It’s not that she comes across as better than him, just more… noble—almost as if she’s got her entire life planned out perfectly and he’s just thrown a massive wrench in her plans and now she’s been left to put up with him.

Slade shoves away his half-eaten steak and plods out onto the patio, no longer interested in the final scenes of his movie. He leans over the edge, staring out at the palm trees rustling in the warm breeze. The canyon stretches out before him, the terrain dry and barren. He can almost feel the moisture from the familiar London fogs being sucked from his skin.

Everything is so different here. As he stares at the beautiful homes that surround the canyon ridge, he realizes with all of the splendor around him, he has no one to share it with.

He starts to turn away from the view but stops when he catches a glimpse of Ashlyn on a patio just down the way. Her back is to him, but he wouldn’t mistake the messy strawberry-blond bun anywhere. It seems to be her go-to hairstyle when she’s working.

There are two yellow pencils stuck in her hair, holding the bun up in a misshapen form. Her shoulders seem rigid as she rolls her neck to release some of the tension.

As she crosses her arm over her chest to kneed the muscles in her right shoulder, he wonders if he’s the one who caused her tension. A tiny ounce of guilt needles at him. Maybe he’s been too hard on her. She’s obviously just trying to do her best by Tamsin and in turn him.

Slade stands and watches her for a while, wondering how a woman her age could be so positively devoted to her work. It’s almost as if she thrives off of it, using her laptop as an escape from the real world.

As this realization sinks in, he begins to feel sorry for her. What sort of life would it be to always hide from people? Watching her turn away from her screen to stare longingly at the canyon view, he begins to understand just how lonely Ashlyn Doyle must be. And for once, he can sympathize.

He’s about to head back into his room when he sees her lean forward to grab her water bottle. He spies a small tribal heart tattoo on the base of her spine and smiles. Perhaps little miss workaholic isn’t so perfect after all.

Twelve

“Do you really buy into this crap?” Slade parts the flaps of a shipment box and lifts out the top book. Ashlyn looks back over her shoulder, staring down her nose through her rectangle lenses at the disdain on his face as he turns it over to read the back.

In all fairness, Ashlyn has never been a big fan of the book’s blurb. It sounds far more sordid than she would have liked, but she’d been assured that with such a steamy front cover image, the back needed to be equally sultry. Plus, Tamsin loved it hands down, so Ashlyn’s opinion didn’t seem to count for much. Not that it ever does.

She offers an indifferent shrug and turns back to her paperwork. “It’s just a book.”

Slade scoffs and drops the book on the table with a thud. His shoes whisper across the plush carpet as he rounds the table and plops into a chair across from her. He tosses his leg over the side and stares at her until she finally acknowledges him.

“Come on, you’re a girl. You can be honest.”

“I was being honest. It really doesn’t matter to me. It’s the publisher who ultimately decides what it says. They have charts and really smart people who know about this stuff. And like you said, I’m just a girl.” She pushes a lock of coppery hair back from her forehead. The unusual heat wave has made her thin hair hang heavy around her face, plastering to her cheeks. The fan that oscillates back and forth does little to ease the stifling heat. She’s almost starting to miss the dreary mists of London.

L.A. in the spring is much warmer than she anticipated. Ever since she arrived, she’s been on the verge of a full-blown asthma attack. Terrified of falling ill during the signing tomorrow, she has begun carrying her inhaler with her everywhere she goes.

Slade leans his head against the upholstered chair back. “You birds always have an opinion on love. Tamsin obviously thinks it’s one huge affair. What about you? You never really told me your opinion on the plane.”

“I haven’t really thought about it, I suppose.”

“Now that’s a first,” he muses. “Most women seem to grow up planning out their dream wedding, and you’re trying to tell me you don’t even think about love?”

“That’s right.”

“Huh.” He absently runs his finger over his scar and Ashlyn is once again gripped by the desire to ask him about it.

“Well, I guess that makes sense in a way. You don’t exactly seem like one of those girls who goes prowling for a good shag on the weekends.”

Ashlyn’s mouth drops open. She blinks, shocked that he would even say something like that to her. “I… you… you don’t even know me.”

She wishes she could just spit it out instead of stammering like a fool. Sophie would be so disappointed with her right now.

“Don’t need to. I’ve got you pegged.”

“Oh, really?” She sets down her clipboard, lifts her reading glasses, and tucks them back onto the crown of her hair, allowing her an unhindered view. This she must to hear. “Do tell.”

A slow grin stretches across Slade’s handsome face as he folds his hands behind his head and props his feet on the edge of the table. She fights not to yell at him for getting dirt on the pristine white cloth but holds her tongue.

Two dimples appear in his tanned cheeks as he rolls his head to the side to look at her. “You’re the quiet type. Probably grew up reading novels just like this, hoping some strapping young chap would sweep you off your feet.”

He unlatches his hands and points a finger at her. “You’re a romantic. A hopeless one, I’d wager.”

Ashlyn’s lips draw into a taut frown as she pulls her glasses back into place and leans over the table, making a show of rearranging the bookmarks into two piles. “I have a lot of work to do, and I’m sure you can find something else to entertain you.”

“Oh?” Slade chuckles, dropping his feet back to the floor as he leans forward. His dark locks shine coal-black in the afternoon light spilling through the window behind him. They curl just around his ear in such a way that Ashlyn can’t help but wonder if the strands are as soft as they look. “I think I’ve hit a nerve.”

“If I say yes, will you leave?”

He pushes up from the chair and leans over the book-signing table, his knuckles cracking as he pauses less than a foot from her. “It’s okay,” he whispers conspiratorially. “This can be our little secret, Ash.”

As Ashlyn sputters at the soft caress added to her name, Slade winks and saunters out of the room. His jeans hang low at his waist, affording her a view of the gray banding of his NEXT boxers. She blows out a breath and sinks back into her chair as soon as the door closes.

“I knew that guy was going to be trouble,” she mutters, staring up at the ceiling.

A few hours later, Ashlyn paces from the back of the room, her sleeves pulled tight over her hands to keep herself from gnawing off every single fingernail. The lines are moving smoothly. Tamsin seems in top form, making sure to reach out and pet Slade’s abs from time to time, which draws the expected hysteria from the women in line.

The book signing appears to be a big success.

The last time she checked, the line weaved through the lobby and down the drive.
Good.
This is exactly what they need. Tamsin’s publisher should be pleased with the turnout.

She squints to see the banner behind Slade, trying to decide if the lighting is just right. The cover came out perfect. Slade’s gorgeous abs, his hands placed over his thighs, and Tamsin’s hands curled around his sides with her hands tucked into his jeans pockets. Even if she hadn’t known Slade was on the cover, she would have thought it was hot. Knowing that he is just makes her feel a bit on the lightheaded side.

Ashlyn still can’t fathom how quickly all of this came together. Only a couple weeks ago, they were shooting the cover, and now here she is in L.A., watching the book come to life.

This is the part she loves the most. To see the fans go wild over the books she spends so much time promoting and working to help make a success.

Working with Tamsin isn’t always a walk in the park. She’s needy, unruly, and can outdrink almost any man she meets in a bar, but she’s also a hard worker. Without her, none of this would be possible.

At least that’s what Ashlyn tells herself as she rearranges the piles of extra swag on a side table. Boxes of bookmarks, promo cards, and stickers line the underside of the table. Most of these will be given away today. What remains will be shipped on to meet them in Vegas.

It feels good to be back in America. Although Ashlyn has grown rather fond of England over the past couple of years, she still prefers being within a few hours from home.

She misses the quiet of her home, the ducklings that should be hatching in the pond, and the frogs croaking out their nighttime song. She misses rocking on her porch and watching the sunset over the trees that line her property.

Pushing aside her moment of homesickness, Ashlyn steels herself as she walks toward the front of the room. The closer she gets to the line, the more her stomach twists into knots.

Tamsin looks up and smiles, motioning for her to come over. “If you can give us just a moment, I’ll be right back with you all,” she says to the crowd.

A low groan echoes through the line as Tamsin rises and motions for Slade to follow her. Ashlyn follows behind them as they sneak out through a side door.

Tamsin fans herself as she leans back against the wall. “I forgot how insane it all can be.”

Slade bends over a water fountain and takes a long drink. Ashlyn tries hard not to watch the errant drips of water that fall on his chest and weave down to his waistline. He catches her watching and gives her a wink that makes liquid fire pool in her stomach.

“How’s it going? Do you need anything? Should I ask to have more books to brought in? How about water? Does your pitcher need refilling?”

Tamsin laughs and shakes her curls about her face. “Calm down, Ashlyn. It’s going well. The crowd loves Slade and I’m winning over the husbands. We can handle this. Why don’t you just go back to the room and relax?”

Slade snorts and both girls turn to look at him. “Sorry. I thought that was a joke.”

Ashlyn shoots him a withering glance before turning to look at Tamsin. “Have you seen Sophie anywhere? She was supposed to be here, um…” She glances down at her watch and pales. “Thirteen minutes ago. She’s late!”

Tamsin steps forward and places her hands on either of Ashlyn’s arms. “Calm. Down. Everything is fine. I’ve got this, okay?”

She tries to smile but knows it is hardly convincing. Slade is watching her and it makes her feel even more anxious. “Of course. You’re right. I’m just being silly.”

“Atta girl. Now we’re gonna get back in there and make us some money.” She tosses Ashlyn a grin over her shoulder before she throws open the door and gets a rise from the crowd.

Slade leans in close before he passes. “You look really hot in that yoga outfit.”

Her mouth gapes open as he winks and closes the door between them.
Did he just…? Is he making fun of me?

Ashlyn groans and leans back against the wall. Why can’t she ever get a good read on him? She’s usually really good at this sort of thing, but when it comes to Slade Collins, she’s hot when she should be cold and vice versa.

“Just stay away from him,” she scolds under her breath as she opens the door and skirts along the edge of the room. She pauses to check on the refreshment table to make sure they aren’t getting low on ice water or lemonade. The small cakes and finger foods have been a big hit. She’s glad she thought of the idea last night and that the Hotel Bel-Air was willing to make the last-minute accommodations for them.

Already, most of the books that were shipped by Tamsin’s publisher to L.A. have sold. Judging by the line, there will be a lot of orders taken, but that’s okay. They were prepared for this.

Ashlyn looks up as Tamsin’s clear laugh rings through the room. She rises from her seat and cocks her leg up around Slade’s waist, high enough to give the first few people in line a bit of a show they hadn’t anticipated.

Slade plays his part effortlessly, automatically wrapping his hand around her leg and leaning in so she presses intimately against him. The crowd goes wild and smartphone flashes flicker like lightning bugs on a warm summer’s night.

Her stomach pinches with unease at the look in Slade’s eyes as he stares down at Tamsin. Ashlyn has seen that look before and it usually means trouble. She will have to make sure she speaks with him after the book signing to warn him against falling for Tamsin.

Deciding that the event is a huge success, Ashlyn returns to her table at the far end of the room and opens her laptop. A growing stack of receipts sits before her, but she can’t seem to concentrate long enough to enter any of the data.

Her gaze keeps rising over her glasses to stare at Slade as he poses for pictures with each of the women purchasing books. His grin is wide and warm. She can tell he’s eating up the attention.

And why shouldn’t he?
she muses, trying to focus on her work again.
He’s an attractive, single guy who is living the dream.

The only problem is that sometimes that dream comes back to bite you in the end.

The door at the back of the room opens and closes, but Ashlyn hardly notices. Her gaze is riveted on the petite blonde fondling Slade’s backside. His easy laugh and wide grin turns her stomach as he places his hand on the beauty’s waist and poses for the picture.

“Careful, Ashlyn,” Sophie warns as she sinks into a chair beside her. She tucks her purse under the table and leans in close. “By the way you’re staring at Slade right now, someone might think you’re falling for him.”