The Secret (Single in Seattle 1)

I don’t have room in my life for a serious relationship.

But I know that I can’t leave now. I need more of Olivia like I need air to breathe.

So, no, I’m not going anywhere until I’ve had my fill of this woman.

Tomorrow can’t get here fast enough.

Chapter 4

~Olivia~

“Okay, hold your arms out like this.” I hold mine perpendicular to my body, and Adam Carter, one of the stars of the movie I’m working on, follows suit. He’s handsome as sin and always plays the bad guy.

Which, if I’m being honest, I kind of love.

Why are women always so attracted to the bad boys? I’ll have to bring that up with Stella over a glass of wine so we can figure it out.

“I was excited to work with you,” Adam says kindly. He may play a villain, but he’s one of the nicest actors I’ve ever had in my office.

Unlike a certain someone whose name rhymes with gone.

“Why is that?” I ask and jot down the measurements. Adam has a killer chest. In fact, he’s muscly in all the right places.

“I loved the work you did on Small Town Girl,” he says, and I raise an eyebrow.

“You pay attention to the costume designers that work on movies?”

“Of course, I do. This is my job. I pay attention to everything, and you’re good at what you do.”

I feel my cheeks flush and smile gratefully. “Thanks. I enjoy it a lot.”

I turn Adam away from me and measure his shoulders and arms, wrists, and then his neck.

“The costumes for this movie are quite elaborate,” I continue.

“Period pieces usually are. You have your work cut out for you. It’s a big cast.”

“With a few hundred extras, thanks to war scenes,” I agree with a smile. “But we’ll get it done. I have an excellent, talented staff.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great and make it look effortless.”

He looks as if he wants to say something, but before he can, I blurt out, “Why do you always play the bad guy?”

His eyebrows wing up.

“I mean, I’ve seen your movies.” I just keep going as if my lips can’t stop moving. Why does this guy make me so nervous? “And you’re always the villain. Why is that? Are you being typecast?”

I move away and put my tape measure on the desk, then continue to jot some notes.

“I like it, actually,” Adam replies, and I glance over at him. He’s well over six feet tall with blond hair and the most striking blue eyes. The camera eats him up. “The characters are so different from me, and it’s fun to be a little bad sometimes. Bonus when I’m being paid to be a jerk.”

I laugh and then shrug. “I guess I can see that. Good point. What’s your shoe size?”

“Twelve,” he says. “What’s your phone number?”

I open my mouth and then stop, turning back to him once more. “Pardon?”

“Your phone number,” he repeats and holds my gaze with confidence.

“Oh, um, I don’t think—”

“It’s okay,” he says smoothly. “Point taken. When will you need me back for the next fitting?”

“In a couple of weeks,” I reply and feel awkward. What’s the harm in giving him my number? “My assistant will make the arrangements with yours.”

“I look forward to seeing you in a couple of weeks, then,” Adam says just as Vaughn comes walking through my open door, eyes narrowing on me.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Not at all,” Adam says. “We were just finishing up here.”

He nods at me, pats Vaughn on the shoulder, and leaves the office, closing the door behind him.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, feeling flustered. Flushed.

Vaughn must notice because he just slowly walks to me and cups my face in his hand. And there go the damn butterflies. He stares down at me as if he’s searching for something.

“I thought I’d surprise you. Did you give him your number?”

“What? No. Wait, it’s not your business if I did.”

He raises just one eyebrow at that. “It’s not?”

“No.”

“Hmm.” He leans closer as he drags his thumb across my bottom lip. I stick my tongue out, just barely touching his skin. He sucks in a breath. “I think it is. Because all I can think about is you, and if someone else is in the picture, I’d like to know.”

I clear my throat. Before I can say anything, he presses his lips to mine. This kiss isn’t wild and frenzied; it’s soft and sweet. Still hot as hell, but he’s not in a hurry. His lips are silky and sure, and my hands fist in his shirt at his sides as I hold on and give in to the kiss. He smells like sin and bad choices, and I don’t even care.

I press against him, and the sexiest groan ever slips out of his throat.

“Jesus, you’re sweet,” he whispers, then boosts me onto my desk and spreads my legs. “Why can’t I get enough of you?”