One Wild Night (Hollywood Chronicles #1)(2)

Um. What?

Wide-eyed, I looked back over my shoulder. Yeah. Not so much.

I bit back a cringe when the reporter, one whose face I’d seen plastered too many times on my TV because Elle was addicted to celebrity TV, mouthed, “Oh sorry,” and turned away in favor of someone much more interesting.

God.

Could anything be more humiliating?

I had the urge to kick off my heels and run. Cower and hide and slink into my safe little world where I’d be curled up on my couch with a glass of wine and a good book.

I glanced to the right.

A hundred feet ahead, the darkened double doors of the theater teased me with the promise of its sanctuary. All I had to do was make it inside unnoticed. I’d slip in, be present for Elle’s father, Roger Ward, who was one of the nicest guys I knew, and then as soon as the credits rolled, I’d get the hell out of Dodge.

I tucked my chin to my chest, eyes trained on my feet, my uncoordinated, clumsy, strides just short of a run.

Just get inside. Just get inside.

A gasp of shocked air shot from me when I slammed into a wall.

A very, very hard wall.

A wall made up of flesh and muscle, and my feet were sliding out from under me as I went reeling back. Strong hands darted out, cinched around my upper arms to keep me from falling, drawing me up close.

So, so close.

I had the sudden, overwhelming urge to bury my nose deeper into that big wall of chest because it just smelled so damned good.

Or maybe I only wanted to bury my face in it, so I’d fall in and completely disappear. Because this had to rank up there as one of the most mortifying moments of my entire life, second only to the time my shorts caught on the slide in fourth grade and they split right up the middle.

Warily, I peeked up at my savior.

Breath gone.

Eyes wide.

Stomach a mixed-up pool of desire and embarrassment on the floor.

An earth-shattering smile full of bright white teeth had my heart rate shifting into high gear, but it was the playful brown eyes full of mischief and sex that had my knees knocking.

Oh, God.

Yes, yes, I had my answer. Things could be so much more humiliating.

Because I’d just run headfirst into Paxton Myles.





Chapter 2





Paxton





The look of sheer terror on her beautiful face makes it hard to contain my chuckle. My fingers wrap around her thin arms as she struggles to find her feet and tries to balance on her ridiculously too-high heels. I can feel her body tremble under my fingertips, and her lips form a perfect O as recognition flashes across her face.

I smile down on her, and she slams her mouth shut just as her cheeks fill with color. I usually have that effect on women. Glad to see she's not any different.

It was impossible not to notice her the moment she stepped out of that limo. Her long blonde hair, her petite frame, and the anxious way she ran from the paparazzi and fell right into my arms.

My thumbs rub the soft skin of her arms, and the scent of her floral perfume is intoxicating.

“Hey, hey, easy now,” I joke with her as she presses her hands against my chest and regains her composure. Her eyes flutter closed, and she takes a deep breath, but I can't help but notice her hands shaking and her full lips twitching nervously.

Realizing what's just happened, she exhales softly. “God, I'm so sorry,” she mumbles under her breath, shuffling from foot to foot as she tries to straighten her long, black dress that has shifted during her stumble.

“The cameras can be intimidating.” I try to calm her and ease her obvious anxiety. “But I'm pretty sure that stumble is going to make the highlight reel on tonight's tabloid television.”

I laugh openly and her cheeks turn a darker shade of red. “I'm Pax.” I grin, holding out one hand for her to shake while my other still holds her upright. “And you are?”

Her eyes fall to my outstretched hand only she doesn’t reciprocate. “I know who you are,” her voice rattles. “I'm not a celebrity. I’m a kindergarten teacher.”

She finally manages to shrug out of my grip, and I hold both hands up in a show of surrender. She lifts her chin and finally holds eye contact with me in mock confidence. I can see how fucking nervous she is by the little dance she’s doing and it’s making my dick hard. I love it when I can make women squirm.

The flush from her cheeks is now crawling down her neck and onto her chest. It's hard not to follow those red splotches down to her perfectly lifted tits—tits that would fit nicely in the palm of my hands.

“Name. What's your name?” I lift my head from her breasts up to her face as I wait for her to answer. She fumbles around awkwardly, juggling her small clutch from hand to hand.

“Kaylee. Kaylee Rose.”

I see Kendall Scott, my publicist, over Kaylee's shoulder, one of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows arched in curiosity, but a look of warning shoots from her bright blue eyes. A look she’s always giving me.

I give her a little wink and decide to ignore her non-verbal warning, turning my attention back to Kaylee.

“Nice to meet you, Kaylee Rose.”

She inhales sharply at the sound of her name rolling off my tongue. I've yet to lose the Southern accent I acquired growing up in Texas. It's my secret weapon. Women find it hard to resist that accent, and it's helped me more often than it's hurt me.