Star Crossed (22 page)

“You’re viral,” she informed him, which might have explained her excitement. “Someone caught the incident on their cell and posted on YouTube. It’s everywhere now, even the national news. Eliza downloaded a copy for you to watch.”

A.J. noted the supermodel’s first-name familiarity with Luke’s PA.

Luke groaned and pressed his palms to his brow. “I don’t think I’m ready to relive the horror.”

Naomi coaxed him by the elbow. “It’s not as bad as you think. You’ll feel better when you see.”

Interested in watching the video herself, A.J. followed them into the big, party-friendly room. Luke had a giant screen here. Suitable for group viewings, it lowered from between box beams on the ceiling. Eliza stood beneath it, remote in hand, awaiting her employer’s instructions. Despite the hour, her tidy cardigan and skirt set was completely professional.

“Drinks first,” Luke said before she could press
play
.

A.J. and Martin shook their heads when he offered to pour them one from the cart. They were still on duty, but Naomi and Christie accepted.

“All right then.” Whiskey in hand, Luke dropped into a big mid-century modern chair. Because the view seemed like it would be good from there, A.J. moved to stand beside him.

The PA started the video. Even on a large screen, the footage of Michelson’s awning was crystal clear. The person seemed to be filming the restaurant through the open window of a car.

“Someone has a good camera on their phone,” A.J. said.

“Luke hasn’t come out yet,” Martin observed. “Whoever shot this was part of the shipper group. They knew what was in the works.”

A.J. exited the restaurant first. As dispassionately as she could, she watched herself check her surroundings and then exchange a glance with Martin. He was out of frame, nearer to the SUV. The rest went down as she remembered. The crowd closed in. Kourtney Prentiss blocked and shoved her. The female teenager crashed through the bushes and jumped on Luke. A.J. spun, turning her back on Kourtney to pull her gun—neither of which were necessarily good ideas in hindsight.

“Look how badass A.J. is!” Naomi said, apparently admiring her quick draw. “And there’s Luke and the kissing bandit. See how gentle you are with her? You’re barely trying to push her off. I mean, it’s bad self-defense but awesome public image. Comments are totally running in your favor.”

Luke shook his head, not as enthused by this as her.

“And there’s Jerry,” Naomi said, continuing to narrate. “Come to save you from the crazed young adult.”

Jerry had succeeded in pulling the gangly girl off Luke when suddenly the camera shifted to A.J. She was slamming Prentiss face-first into the Suburban.

“Oww,” Naomi said. “And more oww. Wow, that girl was a bruiser, but A.J. took her down like a boss! You’re not getting as much internet love as Luke, by the way, but feedback is generally positive. You’re lucky she stabbed you. I think that turned the tide in your favor. And here’s my favorite bit: you hoisting the girl like a sack of potatoes into the cargo hatch.”

Martin’s chuckle surprised A.J. “You liked that part, eh?”

“Badassery to the max,” Naomi responded with relish. “With all this attention, the opening for Luke’s movie is going to be monster!”

Martin returned the model’s grin, seeming to enjoy her enjoyment. Before the admiration society could get out of hand, A.J. cleared her throat. “My ‘badassery’ aside, we should copy the home office on this stuff. They can run facial recognition. See if anything pops with the footage from New York. If anyone was in both places—”

“—they might be the person we’re looking for,” Luke finished.

Christie James looked startled. “You think the two incidents are related?”

“Could be,” A.J. said, studying her expression.

Christie was thinking hard. Her cute bow mouth pressed thin before she burst out with a protest. “Tonight and the premiere are completely different. That girl only tried to kiss Luke. Nobody shot at him.”

“True,” A.J. agreed. “But you never know how disparate events might tie together.”

Luke touched A.J.’s wrist to draw her attention. His fingers were very gentle and chafed her the slightest bit. As PDA went, it wasn’t the hugest gesture, but it was big enough.

Then again, maybe A.J. was hypersensitive.

“We should call it a night,” he said. “Deal with this tomorrow.”

She tried not to react the way her hormones wanted when she met his soft green gaze. He was looking at her like he really cared.

“Sure,” she said as lightly as she could. “I need to update my team anyway . . .”

*

A.J. looped in her on-site personnel before retreating to her room for privacy. Her quarters were on the same floor as Luke’s, just a couple steps up and down another hall. Her room had an en suite bath, a small antique desk, and a couple chairs. A print of Marlene Dietrich in
Shanghai Express
hung framed above the bed. Of more relevance was the good line of sight from the two windows. They overlooked the back grounds and the currently empty pool—sad casualty of the drought and Luke’s green conscience.

His conscience wasn’t uppermost in her mind. She winced when she skimmed her feed from the internet. TMZ was calling Luke “the embattled movie star”—not a slant she enjoyed the public viewing her client at.

Because her mother would have seen the viral video by then, A.J. called her first.

Though she meant to explain and reassure briefly, she didn’t succeed in ending the conversation any quicker than half an hour. Then again, considering the contents of the footage, maybe half an hour was good. Her dad was next. Their exchange was more professional but still longer than she intended.

“Dad,” she finally said. “I love you, but I want to touch base with Tanisha before she goes to bed.”

Tanisha must have been waiting for her call. She picked up on the second ring.

“Girl,” she exclaimed, first thing, “I hope your dad is giving you hazard pay.”

A.J. smiled. Tanisha had some unique ideas about what employees should and shouldn’t be asked to do, but she was a bright spot in their office. “My dad gives me all the free bagels I can eat. You make any progress infiltrating the
Luke and Christie Forever
site?”

“I did. My twelve-year-old niece wrote some shipper fiction I could use as my ticket for admission. I’ll be submitting an invoice for her time, by the way.”

“Of course,” A.J. said, expecting the niece’s services wouldn’t be any more cut-rate than Tanisha’s.

“Right. Well, her stories did the trick and I’m an official ‘Listie’ now. That girl you wrangled with on the tape? Kourtney P? She vets new members, the ones who want more access than the public forum. There’s reams of stuff to wade through on the private message boards, but I’m starting to get a picture of how things operate—not to mention an education on why shippers ship.”

“You’re one up on me if you get that.”

“Sometimes the reason is what you’d think, or what I would. Shippers project themselves into these supposedly perfect people and their supposedly perfect bond. It’s vicarious. They want to
be
Christie and have Luke as their husband, or vice versa if they’re straight guys. Celebrities like those two are rich, famous, gorgeous, and who doesn’t think they’d be deliriously happy if they were in their shoes?”

A.J. might argue this wasn’t everybody’s dream, but Tanisha was warming up.

“What surprised me is sometimes the fantasy the shippers are attached to is that they’ll be friends with Luke and Christie once they’re married. Neighbors. Gym buddies. Providers of relationship advice. As near as I can figure, this puts them in a god position above their fetish couple. They take the ultimate status for themselves. Luke and Christie owe their happiness to
them
.

“The trouble starts when shippers need the real world to reinforce the fiction in their heads. Some of these folks are addicted to living there. They’ve conflated the roles Christie and Luke play in the
Final
films with who they really are. Dedicated shippers don’t want shit like nannies and divorces messing with their delusions.”

A.J. hummed. “Details like the fact that Christie and Luke don’t get along wouldn’t go down too well either.”

“These folks think they just need to be shown the light. Hence Kourtney P and her lobbying efforts tonight.”

“I take it you didn’t see the call go out for the ambush on Luke.”

“I’d have contacted you if I had! No, that must have happened on a deeper level than I’ve dug to. I’ve heard a couple members mention ‘True Believers,’ like an inner circle or something. It’s just an impression, but it seems as if Kourtney
isn’t
in charge of that.”

“So the information on Luke’s location could have been disseminated there.” A.J. pressed her thumb to her lips in thought. “If it’s a dark web site, it could be hard to find. It’d be great if you could get invited in.”

“I’ll do my best,” Tanisha said. “I don’t want to push too hard and spook the powers that be. Some of these fan groups are paranoid.”

“I have faith in you.” A.J. laughed. “And in your entrepreneurial niece.”

“You’ll owe me,” Tanisha warned. “An autographed bare-ass picture of Charming Channing should do the trick.”

“I might be able to manage bare-chested.”

“Well, if I have to settle . . .” Tanisha trailed off. “Just make sure that bad boy is smiling.”

A.J. was smiling when she hung up.

She’d sat on the bed to make her calls. She had one foot tucked under her and the other on the floor. When a quiet tap sounded on her door, she sprang up to answer.

It was Luke of course. Anyone else would have knocked openly.

A lightning glance told her he’d showered since she last saw him. He wore a gray T-shirt and blue jeans. If a team of expert fatiguers had slaved over them for weeks, the fade patterns on the denim couldn’t have underscored the heft of his package more perfectly.

A.J.’s fingers itched to caress every washed out area.

“Hey,” he said, entering the room as she stepped back. His warm expression made her heart beat faster. She realized she hadn’t thought twice about letting him come in. She also didn’t resist him leaning to kiss her cheek. She inhaled instead as his clean scent washed over her. “I wanted see how you’re doing. Don’t worry. Your colleagues are none the wiser. I took a back way.”

The smugness in his voice switched on an alert. Szymanski was posted outside Luke’s door. And the other guards patrolled the halls. Unless Luke had an invisibility cloak, someone should have spotted him. “What back way?”

Now he looked guilty. “The original owner had a married mistress he liked to visit, so, um, he built the house with a few secret passages.”

“Luke! I’m supposed to keep your residence secure. I can’t do that if you keep things like that from me.”

“Sorry?” he said, comically twisting up his face. “I wanted a little privacy. If you’ve got the blueprints, I’ll point them out to you.”

She sighed, because she couldn’t muster up anger against him. “Every one,” she insisted to compensate. “And no holding back anything important from now on.”

“Cross my heart,” he promised.

She wasn’t sure she believed him.

“What’s in the bag?” she asked.

He held a small leather travel case. “My toothbrush and my optimism.”

Her snort was more like a laugh. “Planning on staying the night?”

“Yes.” He set the case on the little desk in order to take her hands. “You can’t tell me you don’t want that.”

She wagged her head, unable to contradict him. “I’m setting my alarm nice and early. We won’t be sleeping a minute longer than I think we ought to.”

“That is not a problem.” He cupped her face, his thumbs stroking her cheeks gently. Her hands settled on his waist. Being close to him felt eerily natural. “I was scared tonight. Seeing you hurt . . . not knowing if you were okay . . .”

“I am okay.”

“And tired. You’ve got circles under your eyes.” He traced them with his fingertips. “Why don’t you take a shower and we’ll sack out together? Not that I wouldn’t enjoy shagging you silly too.”

Her lips curved in amusement. “Not that you wouldn’t.”

He dropped his hands to give her bottom a little spank. “Go wash up, Alexandra. I’ll wait for you out here.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t tell him not to call her that. To herself, she admitted she was starting to like it.

Water restrictions necessitated that this shower wasn’t as sybaritic as the one in his suite at the Waldorf. A.J. took care of business but didn’t linger. When she emerged, wrapped in a big bath sheet, Luke was sitting up in bed with pillows stacked behind him. He turned to watch her come out. His bare chest made her breath stall, his arms so beautifully male she immediately pictured him propped on them over her. Though he’d pulled the coverlet to his waist, she thought he was naked under it.

When she dropped the towel, all she wore was a fresh bandage. After that, his lack of garments was obvious. His cock pushed up the covers—without any underwear to obscure its shape.

His reaction delighted her. Because she couldn’t help primping a tiny bit, she fingered the still-damp locks at the back of her short haircut. Raising her arm showed off her breasts to him.

“Christ,” he said, low and husky. “Every time you’re naked my heart stops.”

“I can see it beating,” she joked. “One place in particular.”

“Come here,” he growled, tossing the covers back.

His erection shuddered up from his groin, thick and spectacular.

She didn’t hesitate. She climbed onto the bed and kissed him from her knees, running her hands over his broad shoulders and his impressive guns. After the night they’d had, he was hungry to connect. His mouth and tongue pushed at hers. Sensing he wanted to be on top, she pulled him back and over her.

“A.J.,” he breathed in appreciation for her willingness.

He cupped one breast and kissed the other, the suction of his lips strong and delicious on her nipple. Her back arched, her legs already shifting restlessly with need. She and Luke squeezed each other’s glutes simultaneously.