Rock Bottom (25 page)

Jet walked onto the patio, and stiffened at seeing them.

Tensing, she pushed away from the table--and Justin. “Not today. I have other work to catch up on,” she lied. Anything would be better than spending a day watching the bimbos fawn all over Jet.

“Okay, but don’t forget about tonight.” Rushing off, he pointed at her.

Did he have to say it so loud? Jet grimaced and walked inside the house. When he emerged again, his arms encompassed all four women, attached to him like barnacles. Smiling, he swept them toward the waiting limo at the end of the stone path.

Oh yeah, he’d recovered all right.

Billie snatched up her bag and stomped to the cottage to change. Today, she’d lie on the beach, and relax, maybe read. Jet would be the furthest thing from her mind.

* * * *

By eight thirty, Billie actually anticipated seeing Justin. The day had been long and boring, and not thinking of Jet had been akin to ignoring the three-ton elephant in the room. She couldn’t do it. His sad eyes made her want to enfold him in her arms. His outrageous flirting with the bimbos made her want to strangle him.

Nine o’clock passed, and Justin hadn’t returned. She knocked on the editing room door to no avail. In the house, she paged through
Cosmopolitan
and
People
, but threw the magazine when she came across a photo of Jet with some other woman. Who the hell was that? Not even one of the bimbos.

“Any idea when they’ll be back?” she asked when Cindy ambled to the refrigerator.

“I wouldn’t wait up.” She popped open a can of diet soda and returned to her desk.

Good advice. Just go to bed. Put this day behind her.

“Goodnight,” she called, and headed for the back door. As she passed the pool house, a light shone from the back, and the door to the editing room stood open.

“Hey, there you are.” Justin came out of the shadows. “I just knocked on your door.”

“I was in the house. Trying not to go insane from boredom.”

“I might have an antidote.” Grasping her wrist, he tugged her to the editing room, closed the door and removed a stash of pot from the desk drawer. He rolled a joint, took a long hit and offered it to her.

“No thanks.” She had enough disillusions without getting high.

“I know what you’ll like.” He opened the mini fridge and held up a bottle of wine. When she smiled, he filled two paper cups and handed her one.

“Is this from the winery? It’s very good.”

After refilling her cup, Justin took another long hit. “Not as good as this,” he rasped. “Sure you don’t want some?”

“No, really. So where did you all go today?” Not knowing had been part of what drove her to distraction. And what they were doing.

Billie focused on Jet while Justin described in detail their shopping, “Jet looked bored,” and eating out, “he signed some autographs, and got pissed when Cat insisted on posing in his pictures.” In general, he portrayed Jet as unhappy. She certainly hadn’t helped matters.

Justin’s speech grew more mellow, and he stretched out his legs and patted them. “Come here.”

The tiny room became a little stuffy. The musky scent made her claustrophobic. She should go find him and explain. “I need some air.” She stepped outside and tripped.

Stumbling, Justin’s arms snaked around her waist. “Hey, careful.”

She giggled. “I think your pot made me high.” Wooziness filled her head, her muscles felt fluid, disconnected.

Justin’s legs wrapped around her like an octopus.

Thinking he meant to help her walk, she lifted her head to thank him. His smoky breath choked her.

“You’re hot.” His lips mashed into hers.

Her hands slipped against his shoulders. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t disentangle herself. A “no” managed to escape.

“Yes,” he hissed, and awkwardly wrapped a leg behind hers.

Her knee gave out as he pushed against it, and she tumbled to the grass, him atop her, his hands everywhere.

“Get off me!” Panic erased any sensation of being high. When he reached between her legs, she flailed. Somehow her elbow connected with his jaw. Dazed, he drifted to one side.

Some force thrust him upward. “You son of a bitch!” a man’s thick voice cried. Thudding sounded, his fists pounding.

Justin groaned and slumped to the ground again.

Scrambling up, her heart pounded. Terrified, she could only stand by as the man bent over Justin, punches flying.

She realized then who that man was. “Jet?” He had to stop, or this could ruin everything for him. “Jet!”

* * * *

At hearing her scream, Jet halted, stepped over Justin and rushed to her. “Are you all right?”

She clutched his shirt. “Are you?”

“Don’t worry about me.” He held her shoulders and tightened his grip. “You’re shaking.”

“I have to get out of here.”

Steadying her, he pulled her against him. “I’ll help you inside.”

Shuddering, she grasped his arms. “No, I have to get away. I can’t stay in that cottage.”

“You’ll stay with me.” He’d make sure no one would get to her.

Nodding, she leaned into him.

Behind them, Justin groaned, lifted a knee from the ground.

“Let’s go.” His arm around her waist, Jet tugged her toward the house. “I’ll deal with him later.”

“But the show…” She stumbled, and she tightened her grip around him.

“You’re in bad shape.”

“Ha. Sure, kick a girl when she’s down.”

“No, I meant…you’re crazy.” Scooping an arm behind her legs, he lifted her, and tension melted away when she nestled against him.

After opening the front door, he went down the hallway, through the office and up the backstairs. He bumped the door closed, turned on the light and strode to the bedroom. Laying her on the bed, he leaned over her, scanning for injuries.

After pulling the coverlet from the end of the bed, he tucked it around her. “I’ll get you some water.”

He wet a washcloth and filled a glass, then sat on the bed and pressed the washcloth to her face. “How’s that?”

“Good,” she whispered.

How could he have let this happen? All the
Rock Bottom
employees had been screened. Or so he’d thought.

If Stu had any part in this, he’d kill him for putting Billie at risk.

He sat on the edge of the bed studying her. “Did he hurt you?”

“I’m all right. Just an idiot.”

“You shouldn’t smoke pot.” What a hypocrite, lecturing her.

Urgently, she said, “I didn’t. I don’t.”

Arching a brow, he kept his gaze on hers. “You reek of it.”

“We were in the editing room. Justin had a stash there. I only drank a little wine.”

He drew in a long breath. “I’m sorry I went off like that.” The producer wouldn’t be happy. Fuck him too.

“No, don’t apologize. I’m grateful. He might have…” She bit her lip and fell silent, the unspoken horror of what might have been plain in her face.

“Hey, you’re safe here.” Smoothing her hair, he whispered, “Shh.”

Crying, she rolled onto the pillow and hugged it.

He rubbed her back and shoulders. He’d stay here as long as she needed him.

First, he needed to see to a few things. “I should go talk to Stu. If word gets out--”

“Don’t leave,” she blubbered, grasping his shirt. “Please.”

Unsure of her meaning, he stiffened. With a breath, he opened his mouth, but didn’t speak until she’d calmed. “I better go. Maybe I can straighten this out before it goes any further.” He handed her a tissue.

She blew her nose. “I’m so sorry. I never would have gone there if I thought--”

He smoothed her hair. “It’s okay.”

“But I don’t want this to come back on you.”

She was right, of course. Justin could sue him, use the media to garner public support, and turn fans away from him.

“It won’t.” He stood and slowly slid her sandals from her feet and then lifted the coverlet from the bottom of the bed and tucked it around her. “I’ll lock you in, all right?”

Practically tiptoeing to the door so he wouldn’t upset her, he reached for the handle.

“Jet.”

His hand on the doorknob, he paused.

“Thanks.”

Pressing his lips together, he nodded and went out. The lock clicked into place.

* * * *

The sound reassured her only for seconds. In the darkness, every little noise became a danger. Out of her mind with fright, Billie couldn’t even cry. Clutching the pillow, she sat up against the headboard. If she had to stay awake all night, she would. Not even the sound of the waves crashing against the bluff could soothe her tonight.

The door handle jiggled. Fear shot ice through her veins as the door opened and a tall figure stepped inside. Desperately glancing around, she slipped from the bed and grabbed the lamp. Never again would she let any guy do to her what Justin tried to do.

“Billie?”

Could it be? “Jet?”

The light blinded her. She snapped her arm straight to aim the lamp away.

“What are you doing?” Slowly, he approached.

“I didn’t know…” She heaved a ragged breath. He must think her a fool. Or worse. She wanted to explain: she never wanted Justin to touch her. Nothing else seemed so important as for Jet to understand. But how could she deny any culpability? She’d gone to the editing room. Drank with him while he got high. She’d never wanted any more than company.

Bending warily, he slipped the lamp from her hand. “Didn’t you want me to come back?”

“Yes.” Her lip jutted out, trembling.

Sliding his arms around her, he pulled her close. “It’s okay. You’re safe. I promise.”

She murmured into his shirt, “I kept hearing noises and thinking...”

“You need to sleep.” He pressed her toward the bed.

“I can’t. What if he--”

Crouching eye-to-eye, his palms cupped her head. “He’s gone.”

So quickly? Could it be true? “Are you sure?”

“I made sure, yes. Stu drove him.” Studying her, he frowned. “Do you need anything? A drink?”

“No,” she blurted, and gripped his shirt. If he left again, she’d collapse into a useless heap.

“Come on then. Into bed with you.”

Somehow it didn’t sound the way she’d imagined him saying it.

Holding her, he turned and released her atop the sheets. Sinking down, she pulled her legs up. He straightened the bedcovers and tucked the sheet around her.

With a nearly inaudible whisper, she asked, “You’re staying, aren’t you?”

Leaning against the bed, he studied her. “If you want me to.”

“Yes.”

After switching off the light, he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off one shoe, then the other.

When he slid the belt from his jeans, she froze, wanting to tell him no, that wasn’t why she wanted him to stay. But he lay beside her fully clothed.

“Sure you don’t need anything?”

“I do, but you’ll laugh.” If she hadn’t scared him away before, she would now.

“No, tell me.”

“Would you hold me?” Her vision adjusted to the darkness enough to see him staring at her, wide-eyed.
Great going, Billie. Another foot-in-mouth situation.

“Yes.”

His hoarse whisper sent shivers across her skin. Was she crazy? Had she completely…

Sliding nearer, he eased an arm around her waist. She nestled into his neck, wanting to block out the world. His skin smelled of sweat and himself and a hint of ocean, making her want to float out to sea with him as her life ring.

His mouth grazed her forehead whispering, “Are you comfortable?”

Comfortable completely failed to describe her bliss. Every muscle immediately relaxed in his embrace, and her eyelids grew too heavy to keep open. “Yes. You?”

“Surprisingly.” Amusement edged his voice.

“Right. I’m probably the last person you expected to be with tonight.”

Inhaling, he stilled.

Great, now she’d frightened him. The last thing he needed was a whiny journalist ruining his reality show. Why did she always say the wrong thing to him? Lifting her head to glimpse him in the dark, she wanted to apologize, but didn’t know where to start. She’d offended him so many times. His soft kiss on her forehead surprised and soothed her.

“Goodnight.”

He’d forgiven her, without her even asking. Her body went fluid with the sound of the waves. She managed to say “goodnight” before floating off to sleep, safe in Jet’s arms.

* * * *

Banging at the door interrupted his dream. A really nice dream about Billie. He could still feel her warm against him, their bodies spooning.

“Jet,” Stu called. “I need to speak with you.”

She turned toward him. Groaning, he pulled her closer, not wanting to leave this dream just yet.

The banging came louder.

“Jet,” she whispered, shaking him.

Grunting, his embrace tightened. A thumb stroked his cheek, and her breath warmed his cheek. “Jet, wake up.”

His eyes slitted open, and he smiled lazily. “Morning.”

“You have to--”

Rolling atop her, his mouth enveloped hers. Much better than anything he could’ve dreamed up. Warm and luscious, she tasted sweeter than he remembered. When she stiffened, he pressed harder against her. His lips caressed hers, his hands caressed her waist to shoulder, and she clasped his head as if his breath were the only oxygen that could keep her alive.

The distant sound of banging broke through the haze. Stu called, “I’m not leaving until I talk to you. Open up.”

Their tongues stopped wrestling, frozen like the rest of their bodies. Eyes wide, Jet eased away with the realization that this was no dream. “I…”

He glanced down. Her arms and legs gripped him in place. He raised his brows in question. Maybe he should forget Stu.

She released him. “Sorry.”

“No, I am.” He stared, incredulous, but stayed atop her. He’d been waiting months for this, and almost missed it.

“Well, I am in your bed.” She smiled in a self-deprecating way.

“That’s no excuse.”

A loud, even rapping reminded them of Stu, still on the other side of the door.

Shit.
As much as he wanted to continue, now was not the time.

His face inches from hers, he whispered, “Can we talk about this later?”