Falling For You (Love In All Seasons 2)

Now I’m ready.

And hell, why not raise money for an organization I believe in while I’m at it?

I order a glass of white wine from the convention center bar and when the bartender hands it to me, I take a sip, and then lower my gaze. I’m not even supposed to be out here. I should be behind stage, reapplying lip gloss for the auction, but the auction goers are seated for dinner and I needed a minute alone, without the publicists or stylists or journalists watching my every move.

So I slipped out while they ate, and am taking a moment for myself.

It’s been hard to find any time like this the last several weeks.

The entertainment magazines and shows picked up my story and made it more sensational than I ever intended and while it’s good publicity for HAHA, I’ve been getting more attention than I ever wanted.

The magazines have no filter when it comes to talking about me. They call me the richest late bloomer in history.

Sure, I didn’t have my first kiss until I was a senior in high school, and there’s only been one guy who ever put his hand up my shirt and exactly zero who have had their hands down my pants.

But I wasn’t a late bloomer.

I’ve just never needed a man. My family has plenty of money, so I don’t need a guy for that. And sex has never been something I sought out. God knows if I did, I had plenty of access to it considering my parents own and run an adult entertainment empire.

Truth is, with my trusty battery-operated boyfriend, I’ve been doing just fine on my own, thank you very much.

But then I came up with this plan and thought why not. Because really why not?

This is my life. And I can do with it what I want.

My parents thought it was progressive. My mom actually laughed at my plan. And not in an I’m laughing at you way. In an, I figured my Justine would do something like this kind of way.

But they were nervous for me.

Well, more than nervous. Worried is a more accurate description.

I guess I’ve always been what some might call passionate. I was the girl who chained herself to a tree in elementary school because someone complained it was blocking their view. I was the ten-year-old who went door to door in my Hollywood Hills neighborhood asking for signatures for my petition to Save the Whales. I was the teenager who went on a hunger strike until the housekeeper started buying organic, non-GMO dog food.

“Would you like another?” a man asks pointing to my wine. He sits beside me at the bar and I look up at him, seeing a man with a thick beard in a flannel shirt. He looks nothing like the men I’ve gotten glimpses of tonight in their dark suits.

“Uh, sure,” I manage, not having noticed that I finished that entire glass while lost in thought. “Thank you.”

The man has a hat tipped low, but our gaze meets and his ice-blue eyes pierce my heart. His eyes are so clear that it’s like drinking spring water when you look at him. Refreshing.

It’s the traditional Alaskan mountain man look that makes him so appealing. He is what he is—no pretense, no show. Nothing like the guys I’ve been around all my life in LA.

“So what are you doing here, alone?” he asks. When he leans in closer he smells like evergreen trees and salt water. He smells like fresh air and looks like he was born and raised in the wild. Maybe it’s his stature, he is tall and commanding, maybe it’s the way he orders our drinks without a single word. Maybe it’s the way he looks at me like he knows exactly what he’d do with me if he could.

“I have a thing later,” I tell him.

“A thing?” He smirks, and when he moves slightly, our elbows touch, and an electric surge passes between us.

I know he feels it, because he nearly growls. There is no question. He is rugged in a way that makes my core take notice.

In a way that makes me wish he weren’t here at the bar for a drink... that makes me wish he were at the auction.

“Mmmhmm. A thing.” I take a sip of the chardonnay, not wanting to say anymore. You know, like that I’m here to sell my body to the highest bidder.

“What brought you here?” I ask, hoping in some strange twist, he is here for the auction... but sure he isn’t, if he were he would be inside the convention center, not out here at the bar.

“Just checking on a few things.”

I raise my eyes, about to say more, but then a few older men in suits, carrying auction numbers, walk in the bar. The man next to me sees them enter and I watch as his shoulders tense, his eyes narrow. The men don’t pay us any attention at all.