“Same reezon you shtole my man’script.” Her eyes flashed angrily as her tongue stumbled over her words.
He understood why. Not only had he taken her work, but he had also given it to other people. “Because I want to help you? Yes.”
“I don’ wan your ’elp,” she snapped.
That was the thing about Bertie, the thing that got to him. She never asked for his help. Heck, she never asked him about anything to do with his celebrity life. Usually, people he met asked him about the other famous Hollywood actors he knew and wanted to know what they were like. They wanted to know about the parties and the behind-the-scenes goings-on. Or they wanted favors or access to people he knew who could help their own careers.Like Melissa did all the time. That’s the way the movie industry ran. It was not what you did but who you knew that got you to the next level.
But not Roberta. Sure, she asked how his day went, but not about the details. Even when he offered up some juicy tidbit of gossip, she didn’t care. She didn’t even know the person he was talking about most of the time. Bertie was genuine. She cared about her dogs and her work, and her writing. And she cared more about him as a person, not the superstar. He was more grateful for that attitude than he could say.
That was why he felt so compelled to help her. To help Roberta reach the next level, he contacted the people he knew who could professionally judge her work. He knew they would not say it was good just to placate him. Only she didn’t see it his way.
“I’m sorry you had such a crappy day.”
“Wha’ do you care?”
Taylor sighed and settled back into the grass. “Fine. I’ll keep you company.” She could be as pissed at him as she wanted, but he was not about to leave her lying in a pool in a drunken state.
“I don’ wan’ your com-pany.” She shifted around in the water, drawing his attention to her full breasts bobbing above the surface.
His gaze held hers. “Maybe I want yours.”
?
Roberta’s nerves tingled. The urge to flee into the house surged through her. Pulling her feet under her, she tried to stand. Instead, her feet kept sliding out from under her on the slippery wet plastic. Her torso pitched forward instead of upward. Next thing she knew, her face was underwater, then, just as suddenly, she hung upside down in mid-air from Taylor’s arms like a rag doll. She closed her eyes as the world spun, her heart thudding as he tightened his grip around her waist.
“What are you trying to do? Drown yourself?” Taylor barked angrily and stepped out with her slung over his right arm, easily bearing her weight. Clear of the pool, his sneakers made squishing noises as they ejected water. He tried to set her on her feet.
The face full of water had brought her to a few more of her senses. She tried to stand, feet flailing for purchase, her hands reaching out for his shoulders to steady herself. Her chest crashed into his, and she slid down his solid torso, her hands losing their grip as her knees buckled. Taylor cursed, something she had never heard him do before, as the side of her face skimmed the zipper of his shorts. Roberta snapped her eyes closed tight, thinking she must be dreaming.
A stream of curses rolled through her ears. Once again, the ground and sky inverted. Nauseous and dizzy, she dangled suspended over his shoulder with a view of his butt. A part of her wanted to reach down and cop a feel of his gorgeous buttocks. Under different circumstances, she might even have taken a bite, but the fury in her veins wouldn’t let her. “Pu’ me down!” she protested. “I ’ave ta towel off the dogs.”
“I’ll take care of them.”
Taylor carried her into the house, down the hall to the bedroom. It was frigid inside, the door having been closed with the air conditioner left on. Placed upright on the edge of the bed, Taylor tried to leave her there, unsupported as he reached to turn down the linens. Roberta hugged herself as she began to shiver, goosebumps already forming on her arms and legs
Her vision blurred as she pitched sideways on the bed. Taylor’s cursing resumed again as large, warm hands pushed her on her back. She reached out for his hands, clasping them for their warmth. Gently extracting them, he rolled her on her side. A whisper of warmth enveloped her as the comforter slipped over her cold, wet body. Roberta sighed and closed her eyes.
?
Taylor sat in the chair beside Roberta’s bed and watched her sleep. The dogs, nestled on either side of her, had joined her after he had toweled them off. All three snored softly in the twilight. Afraid she would be sick, he took up a vigil—only for a few hours, until he was sure she would be okay.
One of the dogs stirred. Bertie turned her head toward him, the side of her face bathed in moonlight. Taylor’s pulse quickened.Enough.He squirmed in his seat, readjusting the front of his shorts.Keep a lid on it. She’s beautiful and sexy, but she’s also drunk and asleep. Just watch her and make sure she stays safe.
Roberta sighed in her sleep and turned away from him. The comforter slid, exposing her back. Again, his cock stirred. Taylor got up and pulled the comforter up over her as best he could with the dogs in the way. Instead of sitting back down, he walked over to the window. The view looked out into the backyard, where the pool still sat.
Seeing her in the bikini was a shock. Sure, she was hot. With amusement, he had watched the dogs cool off in the water she sprayed from the hose the last couple of nights. He wanted to join them but didn’t want to face her yet. Why he went over today, he couldn’t say. Maybe it was her shapely body, curvy and womanly in her blue bikini, so unlike the scrawny bodies in Los Angeles. Maybe it was the glass of spirits she held and how she held it like it was not her first and possibly not her second. She slid getting in, hanging onto the side. Her lack of control was so atypical. Taylor had visions of finding her drowned body later in the evening. Maybe that’s why his feet had carried him to her.
Finding her nearly incapacitated made him glad he had ventured over there. Though looking at her skin, more of her skin than he had seen at one time unnerved him. His blood tore through his loins like an Indy car on the final lap. Despite the heat of the air, the cool water had hardened her nipples beneath the thin fabric straining to hold her ample breasts. He had not noticed how well-endowed she was until that moment. His eyes had slid lower to her ribcage, which, remarkably, didn’t show off any ribs. A slight swell below her belly button before curvaceous hips without jutting bones. A woman with softness and substance. So unlike the anorexic glamourous women of LA.
Her head-first dive into the pool scared the crap out of him. Not heavy when he scooped her out by the waist, she did feel solid. His own senses became totally intoxicated when she slid down his chest until her mouth was inches from discovering how hard she made him.
Had he acted on romantic impulse when he had picked her up in his arms? He liked to think it was chivalry. She went over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Dropped on the bed, wet suit still on, covered for warmth with the only thing in sight, her comforter, she was sound asleep before he had finished tucking her in. He would stay with her until she sobered up, which might not be until tomorrow night from the looks of her.
After midnight, the dogs woke him for a quick walk outside. He itched to lie down beside her. He needed some sleep, and his arms ached to hold her close again—to keep her safe. He couldn’t put his finger on why he was drawn to her. Sure, she was beautiful. But nothing like the Hollywood beauties he knew. There was a certain grace of movement in her mannerisms and a peacefulness about her that he found fascinating, most likely a result of her yoga practice. His chest squeezed, looking at her placid face. She was so beautiful. Before he could stop himself, he bent over, his lips brushing a kiss on her temple.
As much as he had gotten more physically and emotionally intimate with her tonight, he realized Roberta wouldn’t remember anything in the morning. It was probably a good thing.