Your Endless Love (The Bennett Family 9)

“And you’re sure you don’t want to alert TMZ? Other outlets will pick up the story. It’ll be great for your image. This is gold for the public, especially since the media is now running away with the story that your cheating caused the breakup.”

“No, I don’t want press.” Spending time with those kids at St. Anne felt like the best thing I’d done in a long time. It’s easy to forget movies aren’t all about box office and awards, that at the front and center, it’s really about entertaining people. Away from the camera, I can lower my guard and interact with them rather than act for them, and that’s what they need. To see the human side of the superhero on screen. I don’t want to bring the press into this, turn it into a PR circus where it’ll be all about the best angle, the widest and fakest smile.

“Fine, have it your way. I don’t need to remind you to keep a low profile where women are concerned.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Well, thought I’d do it anyway. Just talked to the studio this morning, and they reminded me to remind you that, per your contract, you can’t be seen dating other women until the premiere. I’m going to take this a step further and advise you not to be seen with women in public at all. The tabloids will spin it into something it’s not. I know this isn’t an ideal situation. But there are only a few months until the premiere. Then you’ll be a free agent. Until then, just make sure you don’t fall into bed with a resort employee or something. You know better than to get involved with anyone outside the industry. I’ve got to go, some advertising contracts just came in. Keep in touch. Let me know if you change your mind about the reporters.”

“I won’t.”

His comment about not dating anyone outside the acting scene nags at me long after the line goes static. In my early days in Hollywood, I naively thought I could strive for the A-list and keep my old life. I had a rude wake-up call when the relationship with my high school girlfriend fell apart. I tried dating someone outside the industry one more time, two years later, but that didn’t work out either. I started to understand why actors usually date actors. People in the industry know how things work, the sacrifices required. The long time spent apart on different sets, the lack of privacy, having most of your time planned out months in advance. It isn’t fair to ask any woman to put up with that if she doesn’t have to anyway for her own career.

When I arrive at the resort, there is no bus in the parking lot, so I assume the kids haven’t arrived yet. Summer said the entire St. Anne’s group will travel in a school bus. The four-star resort has a quaint, fisherman’s village air to it. The main building houses the reception, the restaurant, and the conference rooms where some of the kids’ classes will take place. The rooms are grouped in

small bungalows across the property, spilling onto the waterfront.

“If there is anything more I can do, Mr. Westbrook, please let me know.” The receptionist smiles, her eyes traveling up and down my body. “You can call the reception anytime. I can give you my personal number too.”

“That won’t be necessary,” I say coolly, grabbing the key she slides me across the counter. She looks a little insulted at the brush-off, but I’ve learned it’s best to cut off these things at the pass.

Following the signs on the property, I roll my suitcase on the path snaking between the trees, right until the perfectly manicured green lawn spills onto the waterfront. My bungalow is only a stone’s throw away from the water, and a solid walk from the other bungalows.

As I approach, I hear two female voices.

“I am not allowed to let anyone inside,” the unknown voice says. “I received specific instructions.”

“I know,” Summer says with exasperation. “I gave those instructions. I didn’t mean myself.”

Rounding the corner, the two come into view. A redhead wearing the same uniform as the receptionist stands in front of the door, arms crossed. I can only see Summer’s back, but damn what a sight. She’s wearing a white, short dress. My mouth waters as I take in the shape of her ass and the swell of her hips. She’s not tall, but in this dress, her legs look endless.

“I’m telling you, I know him. And I’m not leaving until you let me in.” Summer plants her hands on her hips, channeling all that fierceness inside her. This woman is a well of passion. I had a taste of that the night I kissed her, but I know I just tapped the surface. An image of her wrapping her legs around my waist flashes in my mind, but I push it away, forcing my feet up the stairs leading to the porch of the bungalow. The redhead’s eyes widen. Summer turns her head and sighs in obvious relief.

“You’re here, thank God. Maybe she’ll believe you if you say that I’m not a crazy groupie.”

I offer more than words. I rest my arm on Summer’s shoulders, pulling her into my side. Damn, she feels like she belongs here. She melts into me, clearly feeling just as at ease. It’s as if our bodies are already familiar with each other.

“Summer is a dear friend. Always welcome to my bungalow.”

“My apologies, Mr. Westbrook, Ms. Bennett. I thought I didn’t... I’ll just leave now.” Stuttering, she says goodbye and takes off. Summer sighs but doesn’t pull away from me.

“Thank you. That show went on for ten minutes. I was running out of steam.”

“Looked to me like you had plenty of steam left.”

I dip my gaze, inspecting the front too. The dress isn’t very low cut, so I can just see the tops of her breasts, but it’s enough to stir my fantasy again. When Summer clears her throat, I snap my gaze up. She cocks a brow, but her tongue darts out, wetting her lower lip. Then she steps out from under my arm, as if just now realizing we were entangled in a half embrace. She plucks her purse from the bench under the window.

Unlocking the door, I push it open.

“Color me impressed, this place is huge.”

“Well, it’s their best room.” Summer steps in behind me, glancing around. “It’s the only bungalow with just one room, and I thought you’d appreciate the lack of neighbors. All others have between two and five rooms.”

“I do appreciate the privacy. Very thoughtful of you. Thanks.”

She smiles, twisting a strand of hair between her fingers. “Anyway, I told them to instruct the staff not to let strangers in your room under any pretext—you know, in case any real groupies or stalkers show up. I figured that might happen, what with your face appearing in most tabloids.”

“It’s not out of the realm of possibility. I can’t wait for that premiere to be over. The press attention is getting out of control.”