Bree’s eyes widened as she whispered, “What are you doing?”
I held up my finger. “Great, thank you. No, that’s it for now.”
When I hung up, Bree crawled on top of me and pushed her hands onto my chest, forcing my back against the headboard. “Luke Morrison, we cannot stay in this hotel forever.”
I flipped her over. Now that the whole condom problem was a thing of the past, I could keep Bree in this hotel and naked in this bed for another twenty-four hours, if not more. A part of me never wanted to leave this room. I wanted the simplicity of being here with Bree. In here, I could leave the real world behind.
“I think the idea of staying naked and in this bed for another twenty-four hours sounds amazing,” I said.
She giggled. “Well, when you put it that way. But honestly, I’m starving.”
“I’ll make you a deal. Let’s order room service for breakfast, and then I’ll make it up to you by taking you to dinner at one of my favorite Italian restaurants.”
Raising a single brow, she asked, “Italian? I love Italian food.”
I jerked my hips. “So what do you say? A little bit of fun in bed and then dinner, just the two of us?”
She laughed. “Who else would it be?”
I felt my throat work to swallow. It was now or never. I couldn’t keep ignoring the fact that once Bree found out exactly what I did for a living, it could change everything.
Clearing my throat, I said, “The press.”
A confused expression appeared on her face. “What do you mean, the press?”
Drawing in a deep breath, I said, “I use a stage name when I act, Bree.”
“Okay,” she replied, laughing but still confused.
“My stage name is Luke Walters.”
She tilted her head and stared at me. “Am I supposed to know that name?”
God, I loved that she had absolutely no fucking clue who I was. It was so damn refreshing. Most women wanted to be seen on my arm for a chance to be photographed with me or to further their own careers. Bree wasn’t looking for anything from me…but me.
Reaching for my cell, I Googled my name and then handed her the phone.
With a smile, she asked, “What is this?”
“Read it,” I said softly as she took the phone from me.
I waited and watched her smile fade while she read. Her eyes darted across my phone screen, and when she finally dropped her hand, she met my gaze but didn’t utter a word.
“Say something, Bree.”
Crawling off of me, she grabbed my shirt and pulled it over her head, then headed out of the bedroom and to the living room. I followed her, wrapping a towel around my waist. She stood at the windows, overlooking Boston.
“Bree?”
“I need a second to process this, Luke. You kissed Scarlett Johansson, for fuck’s sake.”
I tried not to laugh, instead smiling and pressing my lips tightly together. “That movie gave me my first Oscar win.”
She spun around and gaped at me. “How many have you won? It seems I didn’t read that far down.”
“Two.”
“Two? Two. You’ve won two Oscars. And I had no freaking clue who you were.”
All I could do was shrug and attempt to make light of it. “Workaholic, remember?”
She rolled her eyes, then turned back to the window. She folded her arms over her body as if to hug herself.
“Bree, please don’t let this change anything.”
When she didn’t reply, I walked over and stood behind her. She leaned back against me, and I took that as a good sign.
“How does this work, Luke?” she asked in a barely there voice.
“I wish I had the answer to that question, love.”
She let a bitter laugh slip free and shook her head. “That’s not encouraging.”
“I do know that the moment the press finds out who you are, they won’t leave you alone until they find out everything about you.”
My words caused her to push away, turning to face me with a look of utter fear on her face.
“We can make sure they don’t find out,” I said. “Other people do it. I mean, other actors.”
“Like Taylor Swift?” she asked with the sweetest expression of hope on her face. “Wait, do you know Taylor Swift?”
I shook my head. “I don’t, sorry.”
Her eyes lit up for the briefest moment with excitement. “Britney Spears? I love running to her music.”
Christ, this woman made my insides feel something I’d never experienced before. I’d told her I won two Oscars, and she was more excited about the prospect of meeting Britney Spears. “No, I don’t know her either. But I could get my manager to contact her manager.”
Bree sighed. “I don’t care about that. I mean, it would be cool meeting her. I really like you, Luke.”
I placed my hand on the side of her face. “I really like you too. Do you still want to spend Christmas with me? I’ll take you somewhere I know we won’t have to worry about anything other than getting to know each other better.”