ing and rich—very rich—so there was no reason on earth that I should be feeling like an awkward teenager around any woman.
“No, I wasn’t,” I said in reply to her question.
“I thought so. I would have noticed you.”
I was silent, sad in a way I couldn’t quite explain. It was undoubtedly something most men felt when they met her, the realization that she would probably never be theirs. It was a feeling I wasn’t familiar with, but with her, somehow, I knew in my gut she wouldn’t throw herself at me just because of my money, and even if I pursued her for the rest of my life, she wouldn’t budge unless she really wanted to be with me.
Even though I’d only just met her, I knew I wanted that, almost desperately.
“You live here then?” It was a question. “You’re not one of the press trying to trick me into saying something for the headlines?”
I laughed, amused at the thought. “No, I live here.” I own the building, I almost added. Even though I was sure that wouldn’t impress her, I still felt the urge to try.
“I hope you’re not offended,” she said. “I just…you never know.”
“I understand. I’m not offended.” It was unlikely that anything she said would ever be enough to offend me.
“It used to be fun when they’d burst out of a hedge to take a picture. Now it terrifies me how they can appear everywhere. These days I check under the bed in hotel rooms.” We both laughed, and then she patted the seat beside her and looked up at me, one eyebrow raised in a silent question. “Won’t you join me?”
I didn’t need to be asked twice. I took the offered seat and stretched my legs two steps below. Her legs were bare, her pretty feet together, her toes painted a glossy nude, and her shoes, beautiful and uncomfortable-looking stilettos, were lying on a lower step. I imagined her legs in them anyway, long, bare and sexy…I took a deep breath and turned my gaze back to her face.
She was looking at me, her head cocked to one side, a small smile playing on her lips. “Why aren’t you spending Christmas with your family?”
“My family?” I shook my head. “My parents are vacationing in Europe. I had no desire to travel that far.”
She grinned. “I’m an awful flirt,” she said. “I should have asked if you were married since that’s what I really wanted to know anyway so…hey, I know we just met, and I don’t even know your name yet, but you’re kinda hot, and I want to know—are you married?”
Hot. She thought I was hot. “I’m not married,” I assured her quickly. I spared a small thought for Lilianna but I quickly dismissed it. We’d only been together for a short while, and it had never been a relationship in any real sense. “I’m very single at the moment.”
Allie raised perfect brows. “At the moment?”
I shrugged. “Well…”
She pursed her lips. “You’re a playboy?” Her voice was serious, but her eyes were teasing.
“I have no idea what that word means,” I replied with a smile.
She gave me a look from under long lashes. “It means manwhore, ladies’ man, womanizer, philanderer…” She drew the last word out, putting in a dramatic touch, obviously trying to keep herself from laughing.
“I’m not any of those things,” I said frankly, “but I do love women…and pleasure.” Our eyes held, and blood and heat rushed down to my groin. I swallowed, watching as her beautiful pink lips parted like a silent invitation to cover them with a kiss. My whole body tensed and then too quickly, she looked away.
“My parents are abroad too. They’re doctors spending this Christmas working in Bolivia so…” She shrugged.
There was an unmistakable note of loneliness in her voice. I thought of the thousands of screaming fans who would give their limbs to spend Christmas Eve with her, and yet, she was alone. “Well, I’m glad you’re here right now, with me, on these stairs.”
“Thank you.” She smiled then suddenly added, “I’m Allie Gilbert.”
“I know that.”
“Okay.” She chuckled. “You know they say all actresses of the same age look alike. We’re all surgically enhanced to fit into one boring mold of Hollywood beauty. I just wanted to be sure you didn’t think you were talking to someone else.”
My eyes drifted to her lips again, and I swallowed. “I’m sure nobody else looks like you.”
She smiled. “What’s your name?”
“Braden,” I told her. “Braden Rhodes.”
“Oh!” She frowned. “Oh…” she repeated the word, her brows going up. “Wow! Oh my God!”