Seeing Stars (The Celebrity 1)

That was a definite insult.

He just insulted me.

Jerk.

I reached for my drink, but decided not to even go there until I had some food in my stomach, and grabbed my untouched water instead. After drinking half the glass, I countered, “Well, just for the record and not that it’s any of your business, but I’m not the kind of girl who believes everything she reads. But I do tend to believe the things I see. Over and over”—I paused for effect—“and over and over and over again.” I smirked.

He leaned in so close, I could smell him. His personal scent mixed with the beer he’d been drinking, and it swirled together in a blissful union before traveling up my senses and imprinting itself on me. “You shouldn’t believe everything you see either.”

I guffawed. “Typical!”

He leaned back, his expression incredulous. “What?”

“That’s just such a typical response. God, you’re such a guy.”

His eyes twinkled as he tipped up his lips into a smirk. “Glad you noticed.”

And there was the cockiness I’d heard so much about. I’d be damned if it wasn’t a complete and utter turn-on.

Our waitress returned, our conversation pausing as she took our order. I asked for a basket of their signature homemade bread while we waited for our main course, certain I’d be more than tipsy soon if I didn’t eat something.

Tipsy led to bad choices.

Bad choices led to Walker Rhodes.

I needed bread. Stat.

Still nursing the same beer he’d had since I arrived, Walker took another small sip before wiping at his lips with the back of his hand. His flannel sleeve slid up a bit with the movement and I caught a glimpse of one of his tattoos. I wasn’t normally a big fan of tattoos, but had to admit that they suited him.

A basket of warm bread appeared in front of me and I dug into it like a starving animal, grabbing a huge chunk from the partially sliced loaf. When I looked up at Walker, he was laughing.

“Oh my gosh,” I said through a mouthful of bread. “Don’t laugh at me. I’m starving.”

“I’m not laughing at you. You’re fucking adorable,” he said so nonchalantly that I almost choked. “And you eat carbs. It’s refreshing.”

“Your charms won’t work on me, so just save your breath,” I warned as I tried to convince myself those lies were true.

“Is that a fact?”

“Mm-hmm,” I mumbled, my mouth filled with warm, carby goodness. It was so damned tasty I was tempted to stand up in the middle of the restaurant and remind all the female patrons what they were missing. “Eat the bread! It’s delicious! Screw your diet!” I wanted to scream. What had happened to our generation anyway? Denying ourselves good food was just plain senseless. Oh well, I thought, more for me. And my ass.

“You keep making faces like that and I might have my way with you right here in this booth,” Walker whispered, his breath warm in my ear.

When had he moved that close?

I snorted. “In your dreams, pretty boy.”

“Pretty boy?” he choked out, hitting his chest with his palm.

I turned my head toward him and offered a tight-lipped smile. “Well, you are sort of pretty.”

And he was. Like many celebrities, he had a gorgeous tan, although up close his didn’t look artificial. And those eyes. I needed to stop looking at them. The longer I stared, the more they attempted to render me useless and stupid. He wanted me to be stupid.

“Thanks, I think.” He glanced away, shaking his head and moving his lips, but no sound came out. “No. Fuck that. I don’t want to be pretty. Pretty’s for chicks. I’m not a chick.”

“Trust me, I know you’re not a chick,” I said as I reached across him for another piece of bread, my hand brushing against his, causing a familiar spark from the concert to come to life and rush through me. Startled, I pulled back quickly, empty-handed.

“That’s good.” He sighed. “Didn’t want to have to show you just how much of a man I really am.”