Bombshell (Hollywood A-List #1)(11)

He kissed the back of my neck, and his erection pressed against my backside. I didn’t turn around, but in the dream I could see his body over me. Every bit of moisture in my body rushed between my legs. I woke up swollen and needy.

I took care of my business as efficiently as the dream told the story, turning Brad into someone, anyone else as I circled my clit with two fingertips. As I got closer to climax and my mind got weaker, Brad reappeared and I came fast and hard.

Fully awake, I promised to do a better job of controlling my fantasies. They were dangerous. Brad Sinclair was off-limits. I wasn’t going to be a Daddy-toy. Not in this lifetime.

I didn’t say that to Blakely as we got our things together for our first day with Nicole. We took separate cars up the hill to the ginormous house. I held my breath the entire way. I didn’t know if I could even look at that pool table.





CHAPTER 7


BRAD


She’d beaten me fair and square. Nine off the four. She’d turned a loss into a win. Nice. I liked that. I also liked her ass.

“Don’t talk about her ass. No one wants to hear it. Not even me.”

My buddy Michael. Prince Squeaky Clean. He’d gone from famous kid to famous teen to the guy I met in college. Famous young adult. The guy never had a problem until he met his wife. She’d been a paparazza and a real problem. For a guy who spent his life worrying about what people thought of him, she was the last woman he should be with. He lay back in the sun by my pool.

“I’m just saying,” I said. “And I have to say it to someone. My parents are cramping me. Every day’s report card day, and I got rows of Fs and Ds.”

“Tell them to go home.”

“They leave today, but believe me, they can wave the report card at me from Arkansas.”

“You taking Nicole to Blueberry’s sixth birthday?”

The invitation had come that morning. I didn’t know what it was at first. It was a cupcake in a basket tied to the bottom of four helium balloons. The delivery service had used a drone to float it over the mail chute. Then it followed the housekeeper into the house when she brought the mail in. That’s what my mother told me when she handed me the cupcake. And that my dad almost shot it out of the air.

BLUEBERRY WOULD LOVE TO

WELCOME NICOLE TO

THE NEIGHBORHOOD.

I was being welcomed too. Somehow. To something. I had no idea what. To a world where birthday invitations came on helium balloons and kids had names like Blueberry.

Nicole loved the cupcake, and the balloons made her wild. I couldn’t say no.

“You going?” I asked Michael. Stupid question. He had six kids now. He went to all the kid shit. “What should I get? For a present. I’m supposed to bring a present, right?”

“Let the nanny take care of it. They do research. Make calls. Ask the other nannies what the kid likes. Blah blah. No brainer. Just don’t bring the blonde nanny.”

I leaned back so I could see into the office off the kitchen. Paula, my right hand and easily half my brain, sat with the two nannies. Cara’s hair was dark brown. The other one, the one who came with the deal, she was blonde. Blakely. She’d fallen for Josh Trudeau’s line.

I did the Hollywood math.

Blueberry Trudeau was having a birthday. Her father was Josh Trudeau. Him in a room with Blakely was a no-go. Right.

“Dude. I’m bringing the other one. I’m not a f*cking idiot.”

“If you say so.” He got up. “And the party, it’s kids. It’s not upstairs at the NV Room.”

“You’re worse than my parents. Every little thing. I’m not an animal. I know how to act, all right?”

“Good.” He dove into the pool, splashing me. Asshole. I don’t know what I did to make him think I couldn’t handle myself at a birthday party, for Chrissakes.

“Bradley!” my dad called, as if his one goal in life was to prove my point. “Ten minutes! Stop lollygagging!”

Michael laughed and got out of the pool.





CHAPTER 8


CARA


Brad’s personal assistant did what all PAs did. Everything.

When Paula opened the door to me and Blakely, she put her hand to her chest as if speaking from deep in her heart. She wore a smart linen suit and matching lavender pumps. Her skirt was a quarter inch lower than sexy and her smile was as wide as the Mississippi River.

“It is just such a relief to see you all here. I swear on a stack of peach pies she’s cute as a button and wild as a dog without a collar. Come on in.”

“I’m sure she’s very good,” Blakely offered.

“Well, bless your heart. My mother always told me I was more adult than kid, so no wonder I don’t understand them.”

She brought us to the office adjacent to the kitchen.

“We have about ninety minutes to get cozy,” she said, indicating chairs with folders in front. “I know we’re going to be the best of friends.”

Through the back patio doors, Brad hung out by the pool with a man whose face I couldn’t see.

“Bradley’s parents are leaving today out of SMO. They are so dear. We got them to go charter for the flight, but they wouldn’t agree to the expense of a helicopter.” She made an absolutely adorable wrinkle-nosed smile. “Bless their hearts.”