Unforgettable: Book Two (A Hollywood Love Story #2)(6)

Watching the movies with him is so much fun. We share a big bowl of popcorn—something he insists is a must. Brandon’s totally into the flicks and he’s surprisingly enlightening. Maybe my boss has lost part of his memory, but he’s a walking encyclopedia when it comes to James Bond. He shares fascinating facts with me like Sean Connery wasn’t the producers’ first choice to play the iconic spy and that Cary Grant was up for the part.

“Does James Bond inspire you?” I ask, munching on some popcorn while he puts the next film into the DVD player. The remake of Casino Royale, one of the few Bond films I’ve never seen.

Brandon returns to the couch and snuggles up against me before hitting play. “Totally. Especially when I do my action scenes. I think—what would James Bond do?”

“What about your romantic scenes with Jewel?”

He tugs on his lower lip and then sensuously feeds me a popped kernel. “Yeah, sometimes. But lately, I’ve drawn from experience.”

Katrina. My chest tightens, and I force the piece of popcorn past the lump in my throat.

“Who’s your favorite James Bond?” I ask, referring to all the actors who’ve played the part though I know the answer.

“Hands down, Sean Connery.”

“Mine too.”

We end our conversation as the movie starts—as usual with an action-packed opening sequence that takes my breath away. In no time, I realize that the latest James Bond, Daniel Craig, is a close second to Sean Connery. While he’s older, there’s something so intense and sexy about him. And there’s a vulnerability to him, too, that adds to his appeal. My breathing grows labored as I watch the sensuous shower scene between James and Vesper. It’s one of the sexiest love scenes I’ve ever seen and makes me think of the shower I took with Brandon, both of us fully clothed. I know he’s thinking about it too because I can feel heat radiating from his body. Maybe it inspired him, but I don’t ask.


Our eyes stay glued to the big-screen TV as the movie comes to its gripping climax set in Venice. My heart hammers while tears fill my eyes. I’m overwhelmed with emotion.

“Oh, no!” I gasp as Vesper, trapped in an iron-frame lift, sinks deeper and deeper into a canal while James tries desperately to free her. “Please, Brandon, I can’t watch this anymore.”

Brandon turns to me, the expression on his face full of concern. “What’s the matter?”

“I-I can’t handle the drowning,” I splutter, tears falling. “It reminds me of Mama.”

“Shit.” He immediately turns the TV off and brushes away my tears with a thumb. “I’m sorry, Zo. I should have been more sensitive.”

My skin prickles at his tender touch. I quirk a little smile to let him know I’m okay. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know how I’d react. And with Mama’s murderer on my mind, I think I may be overreacting.”

His eyes stay locked on mine. “You sure you’re okay?”

I nod. “Yeah, I’m good. That was a great movie. I just wish Vesper didn’t have to die like that.”

“It’s one of my favorites,” concurs Brandon, his expression relaxing.

We share a brief moment of silence until I break it, never losing eye contact with him.

“I think you’d make a great James Bond, Brandon.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I do.” The image of him in a tux on the night of the Golden Globes flashes into my head. Nobody does it better. He’d bring a whole new level of sexiness to the role. Those mesmerizing violet eyes would make a box office killing.

“How’s this for starters?”

“Go for it.”

“The name’s Bond. James Bond,” he says with an utterly sexy and perfect British accent that makes me melt.

“That’s brilliant!”

He smiles that million-dollar smile and renders me breathless. Then, before I can blink an eye, he scoops me into his arms and carries me away.

“What are you doing?” I laugh.

“Taking my Bond girl to bed,” he answers, maintaining his alluring accent.

Me a Bond girl? I’m more like Miss Moneypenny. Goosebumps pop along my flesh while hot tingles dance between my legs. Taking his words at face value, I instantly fantasize Brandon as Bond seducing me. Transporting me to his bedroom and ravaging me on his bed. Devouring every ounce of me with his masculine prowess.

“It’s almost midnight,” he says. “You need to get a good night’s sleep.”

My fantasy is short-lived. But I relish being back in his arms. Over the past two days, he’s been so kind, sweet, and funny. And so open.

“Why are you being so nice to me, Brandon?” I finally ask while he tucks me under the yummy covers. Maybe he has something up his sleeve. Or is putting on a good act. Or he’s simply bi-polar.

“Because, believe it or not, I actually like you, Zoey. And care about you.”

His words unnerve me. What does he mean? And does he really mean it? Before I can say a word, he hits me with an out of the blue question.

“Are you coming to my wedding?”

My heart clenches at the last word. Over the last forty-eight hours, I haven’t given much thought to his upcoming marriage to Katrina.

“I wasn’t invited,” I mutter. The bitch didn’t bother sending me an invitation though unknowingly she spared me the pain of opening it.