Hidden Hollywood

“Relax,” Jake said. “You’re not going to a firing squad. We’re just going to have a drink, have a good time.”

She didn’t reply. He had no idea the kind of crazy shit she had to deal with from rabid fans wanting a piece of her. If he stuck around long enough, he’d see. It wasn’t just pictures or autographs. It was hands grabbing, wanting her hair or a piece of her clothing. The men who had erotic fantasies about her and had to touch. That was why she had Frank. At times she wanted a whole bunch of Franks so she could move unaccosted in a bubble of protection.

The car pulled up to the building. Frank got out alone to check things out ahead of time while the driver circled the block.

Jake kept trying to distract her, kissing her neck, but she couldn’t relax enough to enjoy it.

She shoved his shoulder. “Not now.”

He slid a hand into her hair, his eyes hot on hers, and waited for one breathless moment. She blinked, mesmerized. And then his mouth claimed hers, aggressive and rough enough that she could think of nothing but the heat and taste of him. A rare delicious butterfly feeling in her stomach reminded her that Jake was special.

He pulled away when the car stopped moving and gave her a slow sexy smile. “We’re here.”

Frank opened the back door of the car and poked his head in. “There’s some paps. We’re gonna move fast. Ready?”

Shit. How did the paparazzi know she was here? They were already crowding in close to the car.

She turned to Jake. “We have to hustle. Frank will get us in safe.”

“I’m not running.”

“Just move quickly, okay?”

He frowned. “Why? Because of some asshole with a camera?”

“Just do it,” she hissed and exited the car. Flashes went off, nearly blinding her in the dark of night. She turned to find Jake standing, straightening his shirt, and striding at his usual pace, his expression hard. Almost like he was daring them to get too close.

And then Frank had her by the elbow, keeping her partially hidden, and she rushed into the building, straight through to an employees-only door, through a storage area, and then upstairs and through a door marked Private. Jake wasn’t with them. What was he doing? Was he talking to the paps? Giving them a story? Dammit.

She arrived on the third floor with a fully stocked bar, where a bartender, a large man with short-cropped dark hair around her age, stood at the ready. It was the man who’d greeted Jake so warmly the last time they were here. He smiled at her. She gave him a tight smile back. There were a half dozen round tables and a pool table. Still no Jake.

Finally he arrived, strolling on in. Frank stepped out to wait just outside the door.

“What took you so long?” she demanded.

Jake headed over to the bar. “What do you want to drink?”

She tapped her foot. She couldn’t scream at him in front of the bartender, who was even now greeting Jake like a long-lost brother.

Jake looked over at her. “Come meet Marcus. He’s serving us this evening.”

Marcus grabbed Jake’s shoulder and gave it a shake.

She slapped on her gracious meet-the-fans face and crossed over to them. “Hello, nice to meet you, Marcus. I’m—”

“Claire Jordan. I know.” Marcus grinned. “What’re you doing with this guy?”

She raised her brows. “I’m beginning to wonder that myself.”

Jake faked a jab to the heart. “Ooh!” He went behind the bar with Marcus. “She’s mad because I wouldn’t run in here like she wanted. I don’t take orders.”

“It wasn’t an order,” she said between her teeth. “It was for your safety.”

Jake shook his head and looked around behind the bar. “You can’t let some guy with a camera dictate the way you live your life. They’re going to talk about you anyway. Do what you want.”

“It’s not that easy,” she said.

“Yeah, it is.”

Marcus pulled a beer bottle out and handed it to him. Jake popped the top and took a swig. She would’ve ground her teeth if they weren’t so expensive to repair.

“Did you talk to them?” she asked Jake tightly. The hell with her gracious fan face.

“I’m sensing some tension,” Marcus said. “Here you go.” He lined up a chilled bottle of white and a bottle of red on top of the bar. “Jake will pour. They’re both excellent. Nice to meet you, Claire.”

“You too,” she said. “Thank you.”

Marcus headed out, chuckling to himself.

The moment he left the room, she let Jake have it. “What did you do in the ten minutes it took you to get up here?”