MrBigStuff-epub (2 page)

The rant was depressing. She patted her cheeks and reached for her blush. “Suffice it to say there are a lot of frogs in this world and far too few princes to go around. I made my list to limit the crazy, you remember, but it hasn’t changed anything. Maybe it’s me.”

“No.” Trudy was adamant. “I promise it’s not you. It’s the frogs.”

“Well, then I’m really in trouble. You might have found the last good man to be had. Sadly, I’m guessing he doesn’t go in for polygamy.”

Trudy snorted. “You wouldn’t know it from the way he’s encouraging Diego and Manly with Glory.” She hesitated. “The Caroline I know doesn’t talk like this. You never give up on anything you want. And you believed in happy endings even when I didn’t.”

“People change.” Or wished they could because they were sick of being disappointed.

“I’m really hating haggis-breath right now for doing this to you and I’m fairly certain I can have him killed. John knows people. Obviously he deserves it.”

Caroline huffed a laugh before leaning closer to the mirror to thicken her lashes with mascara. “With the mood I’m in that offer is tempting. He wasn’t that bad, really. He was smart and funny, easy on the eyes. But there were signs. This morning is when it really went south. He actually blamed
me
for how the evening went. He said my standards were too high. That I expected too much and I was too sexual and it was intimidating.”

“Asshole,” Trudy swore indignantly. “Wait, what did you do, ask for something really kinky? Were baked beans involved? Did you bring out your toys? You have some intimidating toys.”

“Not even one, I swear. I should have. I might have actually had an orgasm.”

“
Damn
.”

“Exactly what I thought. Don’t laugh, Trudy, the situation is desperate. It’s not healthy to be this deprived. I only have a few years left to enjoy my sexual prime and I haven’t had a good climax that didn’t involve batteries since…for months.”

Caroline winced at the silence on the other end of the line. She shouldn’t have said that. Even though
she
couldn’t get it off her mind, the last thing she wanted Trudy thinking about was Caroline’s one night of impulsive debauchery with Jefferson Estevez-Adams. She hadn’t planned on it. Hadn’t known she was going to walk into his room until her hand was twisting the doorknob. She definitely hadn’t planned on Trudy catching them in the act.

God, just thinking about that night made her shiver. Maybe she needed to get her toys out after all.

“Speaking of my brother…”

“Were we?” Caroline tried to sound bored. “I thought we were talking about your wedding. But since you mentioned it, how is our Hollywood Hayseed anyway? I heard the ratings for the show have been off the charts. That must have the local gossips at the hair salon in a tizzy.”

She’d also heard Jefferson was the most popular contestant. It wasn’t a surprise. He had a face and physique that were made to be in front of the camera, a fact he seemed all too aware of.

Reality shows were still big moneymakers, and according to her sources, The Real Fall Guys were bringing in more female viewers than The Bachelor. Caroline knew it had everything to do with a certain charmer who loved walking around shirtless and taking risks even when their stunt coordinator told him not to.

Showoff.

“I wouldn’t mention it, but I’m starting to worry about him.”

Caroline paused with her lip-gloss poised against her bottom lip. She must have missed a sentence or two. “Worry? Mention what? Is Jefferson hurt?”

Trudy sighed. “I don’t know, Caroline. But something is definitely wrong. He hasn’t answered his phone or responded to any of my messages in the last three days. The producers called me this morning. The actual filming has been over for months, but apparently their live finale is only two weeks away and requires some rehearsal that he never showed up for. Someone else called about a photo shoot schedule. I know it’s a lot to ask, and if you don’t want to check in on him that’s okay. I can be on the first plane in the morning—”

“I’ll go now.” Caroline dropped her gloss and straightened her shoulders, trying not to think about how eager she sounded. “If the traffic is light, I can be there in forty-five minutes. I just need to throw something on.”

“I’ll get you the address,” Trudy said, relief evident in her voice.

Caroline knew exactly where the extravagant rental was, but she listened quietly as Trudy rattled off directions. She‘d been there once for a party right after the show wrapped, but that wasn’t something she wanted to share with Jefferson’s sister. If she did she might have to go into the reasons she’d never gone there again.

“I’ve got it. Now you pick a main course for the reception and I’ll sort out your wayward brother. I’ll call you back as soon as I know anything.”

“I owe you one.” Trudy vowed gratefully.

“Yes you do. Remember that when the wedding coordinator arrives with his construction crew next week.”

“The who? When?”

“Talk to you later.” Caroline’s smile disappeared as soon as the connection was severed.

She walked into her closet, lifting her hair into a sleek, easy ponytail that brushed softly between her shoulder blades as she searched for the perfect outfit to face Mr. Big Stuff. That was what the tabloids were calling him. With the snug fit of his jeans, his cocky attitude and that ridiculous belt buckle he’d decided to wear in every episode, she was surprised they hadn’t come up with something more blatantly phallic.

Mr. Big Stuff had walked more red carpets in a month than she had in the last two years, always with a new woman on his arm. The photographers loved him. Her only consolation was that Jefferson didn’t appear to reciprocate their affection. His signature dimpled grin hadn’t been present in the most recent shots.

She hoped that was why he was avoiding the producers and it wasn’t anything more serious. Jefferson wasn’t connected to the painkiller scandal that had disqualified the professional wrestler who’d been one of his contestants. In fact, other than his luck with the ladies, the cowboy from La Grange had kept his reputation noticeably undamaged. A talent in itself.

Caroline finally chose a pair of tight, artfully faded jeans and a black tank top with delicate metal studs framing the neckline to go with her knee-length leather boots. Casual. Uncaring. He was just an errand for a friend, the outfit stated. Nothing more. If he liked what he saw, that would be his problem. She wasn’t dressing to impress him.

Not twenty minutes later she was speeding up the winding roads that led to his house and wondering what Jefferson was up to, going off the radar so close to the finale. She imagined the men behind the show’s curtains were having blood pressure issues right about now.

Jefferson was their golden boy. It was his face on most of the promotional billboards, his cowboy swagger and charm at premieres and in entertainment interviews and his love life picked apart in the gossip columns. As far as she knew, he was also the only one who’d been living in luxury on their dime. They wouldn’t like losing track of him.

He was fresh, delicious meat and they wanted to make sure he stuck around until everyone had their fill and there was nothing left but bones. Fifteen minutes was all most people could handle of that kind of punishment. Being famous wasn’t for the faint of heart. Or people who wanted private lives.

Maybe she should have helped Trudy talk him out of it back in La Grange. If she had, his sideways smile wouldn’t be plastered on every building in her neighborhood and she wouldn’t be forced to live in a continuous state of denial about her attraction. Wouldn’t have had to remember that one hot night every day for the last six months.

The memory of her interlude with Jefferson was an ache. An itch. Continuous and aggravating. She honestly wasn’t sure why he got to her. He was beautiful, yes, but she’d been born and raised in the beautiful people’s Mecca. External beauty was currency here, it was true, but she’d long since learned to look beyond it. She thought about Robb—okay, so for the most part she looked beyond it. She was only human.

Take away Jefferson’s movie idol looks and what was he? A daredevil of a man-child
eleven
years her junior who took nothing in his life seriously. A spoiled Texan who came from a town so small and full of nosy, colorful characters that she couldn’t believe it wasn’t the old set of Mayberry.

They had nothing in common, unless she counted Trudy. He was more physical than intellectual, more cowboy than cultured. He had natural skills in the bedroom that could not be overlooked, and the chemistry between them was electric, but he’d probably never been to a BDSM club and he didn’t have a single tattoo on his perfectly sculpted body. More importantly, he was her best friend’s brother.

And most importantly, he didn’t come after me the way he’d said he would.

That dented her pride. Not that she would have allowed him to get more than a toe of his boot in her door if he had, but it was disheartening that he hadn’t even made the attempt to follow through on his sensual promises.

Maybe one of those luscious young girls who’d been draped all over him at the party had changed his mind. Maybe they’d made him forget all the things he’d said to her that night. What he’d done to her.

Lucky Jefferson. She’d been trying to forget for months.

She pulled up into the long driveway and took a deep breath. She was here for Trudy as a favor. She couldn’t let it be about anything else. Jefferson was just another frog in the man pond. A mistake she shouldn’t repeat.

As she walked up the inclined drive, looking around instinctively for any random photographers who might be lying in wait for Mr. Big Stuff himself, she wondered—not for the first time—if she should give dating women a chance. The best people she knew were women, other than her father of course. Some of her favorite play partners at the club were women as well. And more than once in her early twenties, she’d fulfilled fantasies for her love interest of the moment that included kissing and fondling an open-minded girlfriend—experiences she distinctly remembered enjoying.

It wasn’t the worst idea she’d ever had.

“How’s that for sexually intimidating, haggis-breath?” she muttered to herself.

She was walking past the fence toward the front door when she heard the sound of glass shattering, someone swearing and then a loud splash of water.

“Jefferson?” She swore under her breath before turning around, opening the fence’s gate and running toward the pool at the back of the house.

What she found stopped her in her tracks. “Jesus Christ.”

Chapter Two

He was face down in the pool, blood flowing freely from—his arm? His wrist? She couldn’t tell. It was a small cloud of pink in the water but enough to set her in motion.

No.
She couldn’t let it happen. Not to him. Nightmarish visions of her aunt’s funeral raced through her mind while Caroline yanked off her boots and then swore impatiently, jumping in and wading her way toward him, blinking the panicked tears from her eyes.

“Jefferson?” She reached down to lift his face out of the water and gripped him tightly.
Please be okay
, she prayed silently.
Please
. “Jefferson, you idiot, what have you done? Can you hear me?”

She saw his lips twitch, and then eyes a brighter and lighter green than her own blinked at her in surprised pleasure. The water clung to his thick lashes in sparkling droplets and his dimples deepened as he grinned. “Sweet Caroline? You’re here.” He took in her expression and the smile faded. “You look upset. What’s wrong?”

“I think that’s my line.” She placed her hand on her chest, feeling her heart pounding hard in relief. Thankfully he caught himself before he dropped beneath the surface again.

“I must have fallen asleep.” He stood, glanced down at her body and snorted. “Or not. Why are you wearing clothes? You’re never wearing clothes.”

Caroline had a sudden desire to grab his head and push it under the water. She lifted her hand and whacked him on the shoulder instead. “You nearly gave me a heart attack and you want to know why I’m wearing clothes? You’re not dreaming, genius, you’re drunk.”

“I am.” He nodded amiably. “But naked and relaxed, so way ahead of you in that department.”

She’d noticed. Completely naked.
Focus, Caroline
. “You’re also bleeding, Junior. Be a good boy now and let’s get out of the dangerous pool.”

Jefferson glanced down at himself, lifting his hand from the water. His palm had several small but deep gashes that instantly welled with blood as she watched. “Glass broke,” he muttered. “Why do you think I jumped in the pool? And don’t call me Junior.”

Caroline looked over toward the lounge chair on the patio. There were enough empty bottles for a frat house to drown in and there were a few shards of glass, but no sign of company or remnants of a party. He’d been drinking alone? That was never a good sign. “I’ll stop calling you Junior the second you put on your big boy pants and let me slap a Band-Aid on that injury and get some coffee in you. Spring Break is over. Your sister and your reality show are calling.”

Jefferson swore and moved away from her, powering through the water and walking up the steps toward his towel. Caroline bit her lip hard so she didn’t groan aloud when his perfectly sculpted ass cheeks came into view. Who said women couldn’t be visually stimulated? Idiots, that’s who. She was definitely stimulated.

She followed him out of the pool, grimacing when her wet jeans clung heavily to her body. He handed her the towel instead of using it to cover himself and she buried her face in the soft fabric so she wouldn’t be tempted to look at him. Everything was on display. Skin the color of dark, raw honey, eyes like chips of emerald ice and thick waves of black silky hair that curled along the nape of his neck. And his lean, hard six-foot-two body… The man was too good looking. Too tempting.

Too inebriated to be that impressively aroused.

Evil woman that she was, she wanted to touch him.