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“Yes. The driver is waiting right out front.” She motioned to the airport exit.
I gave her a protracted once over while I trailed behind her and those swaying hips. Externally, she was my type. Tanned and tall and slender, blonde and well-manicured, she would be every bit fuckable against my hotel wall. But I warned myself to wait until I did the deal before entertaining any thoughts about tasting Honey’s nectar.
“You certainly travel in style. A Rolls Royce? That was unexpected,” she said as I caught up to her side.
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, when your manuscript arrived with food and beverage stains all over it, I figured the writer was down and out. I had a good laugh at your request for a Rolls Royce.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry about the script.” I couldn’t be more grateful for somehow landing this opportunity since I didn’t know a thing about movie making.
“First impressions are everything, and Mr. Tomms wouldn’t have read it. You’d be surprised at the number of scripts that come in a complete mess—and he won’t read them because they reek of desperation, he says. Lucky for you, I still give them a glance before I toss them. Yours has potential. So, I guess you have me to thank for typing and printing up a clean copy of your manuscript and placing it front and center on Dad’s desk.”
“Thanks. But wait. You’re the daughter of the man I’m about to meet?”
“Stepdaughter. And you’re welcome.” Honey winked at me with a tone in her words like a veiled invitation to some party for two we might enjoy later.
The woman was screwing with me, right? She did all that for me and now here I was? I would definitely find ways to thank her later, especially if this deal worked out.
As we exited the airport doors, suddenly a barrage of people with cameras accosted us, flashes going off in every direction.
Honey hooked her arm in mine and if I weren’t busy shielding my eyes, I’d have relished the electricity pinging between us.
“Put your arm down, relax, and smile. Try to have fun with this,” she muttered under her breath, never breaking her toothy grin. Her arm went behind my back and I threaded mine behind hers, squeezing her into my side, with all kinds of fireworks snapping up and down my side where we touched.
“Who’s your new man, Honey?” One photographer shouted. I realized this must be the paparazzi Hollywood was known for and smiled the best I could.
“This is Baird Rodgers,” she called out, using my formal name. Which I didn’t exactly recall ever giving her. Someone’s done their homework. “Hollywood’s next amazing writer. Wait until you hear about the project we’re working on together.”
Honey certainly knew how to play it up for the cameras. After growing up with a father who avoided the limelight, this was unfamiliar territory to me. Then again, I suppose that’s something that one gets used to if you’re in the film industry long enough.
It didn’t escape my notice that we had yet to talk about my project—rather presumptuous of her to think we’d agreed to working on anything together yet.
“What a beautiful couple? Are you dating?” Another shouted. That one took me by surprise.
Honey gave me a sly side eye glance with a grin loaded with possibilities, but remained silent, leaving me dumbfounded. And extremely turned on. My cock needed to behave in front of all these cameras.
Her parade of me continued to the car, and we lingered there another minute more until the photographers were done. While she fielded a few more questions about “our” project with a tease to her answers, the sparks that flew from the link of our arms finally registered.
“One more photo. Can you get a little closer?” A female with a long camera lens shouted at us.
Out of my element, I went along with it, leaning in and bringing my other hand to rest on hers at her waist. My thumb spread across her knuckles where her skin was smooth like, well, honey, both in color and texture. My eyes traveled up to her face, her hair also the color of honey. And the California sun shone behind her like a halo, attracting me to the light.
Everything about her screamed a sweet treat. I’d been a love ’em and leave ’em guy for so long, but this felt refreshing. A possible new startup for the guy I was trying to be? But she was the stepdaughter of the head of the studio. I needed to bide my time and not mess up the potential project ahead by fucking the boss man’s girl.
The driver opened the door. Honey finally entered the car. Her sexy long legs on display crossed at the knees in front of her, and I could stare at those for hours.
“I’ve never been in a Rolls Royce before this,” she cooed as I slid across the white leather seat beside her, and the driver shut the door. A Rolls wasn’t exactly my style, more my dad’s, and I’d been in plenty of them. Now, in sunny L.A., I wished I’d requested a sporty convertible.
“Then we’re even. I’ve never been hounded by paparazzi before,” I replied.
“You call that hounded? That was nothing, a simple publicity stunt to get the Hollywood engine revving about our project,” she explained.
“I see. So all the smiling and touching was simply for the cameras?” I admitted a slight disgruntlement, if that was the case.
“Not necessarily,” she purred again, glancing at me sideways. Flirty and mysterious, Honey definitely piqued my interest. A+ for first impressions.
“You talk as if this is a done deal between us.” Break out the pen and show me to the nearest bed and I’ll give her quite the deal.
