Seeing Stars (The Celebrity 1)

“Why are you so goddamned difficult? I’m not the incredible asshole you seem to think I am. Just drive, please, so we can talk this out.” The sound of his seat belt clicking let me know he had no intention of leaving.

Opening my eyes, I looked directly into his and decided to stop fighting the internal battle that raged within me. “Fine. But where am I supposed to go?”

“We can go to your place.”

I breathed out a half laugh. “Are you high? I’m not bringing all this chaos to my door. Hurry, Walker. Tell me where to go.”

“My house is gated. They already know where I live. We can go there,” he offered with a small smile and I agreed, even though the last thing I wanted was to be alone with Walker Rhodes…in his house.

I think.

“Fine,” I said again, realizing that I’d said that word more times tonight than I’d ever said in my life.

“It’s in Malibu, though. I hope that’s okay.”

Malibu. Shit, that’s far.

“Wait? Are you okay to drive?” He placed his hand on my thigh and gave me a gentle squeeze as I lurched the car forward. When I tightened my leg muscle and looked down at his hand, he quickly removed it.

“I feel okay. I must have eaten a whole loaf of bread in there. If I feel the slightest bit off, I promise I’ll pull over and we can call a cab.”

“Sorry,” he said and stared out the passenger window, although I wasn’t entirely sure what he was apologizing for.

“Malibu’s kinda far, you know.” I had no intention of driving forty minutes to Malibu through the dark and winding roads of the Pacific Coast Highway, only to have to drive back home later. I glanced in the rearview mirror, taking note of cars racing to keep pace with us.

He glanced back at me. “How far is your place?”

I shook my head wildly. “It’s close. But I’m not taking them to my condo. I don’t have privacy gates. They’ll surround the place.”

He nodded, tossing a glance over his shoulder and out my rear window. “They will. Shit.”

“There’s gotta be a way we can lose them,” I said as I pounded on my steering wheel in frustration.

The fact that Walker was in my car and that he’d left his at the restaurant hit me at that exact moment like a ton of bricks. I was suddenly worried that I’d have to drive back to the restaurant so he could pick up his car at some point. The last thing I wanted was to act like his personal driver. Hell, I didn’t even want him in my car right now.

“How are you getting your car?” I asked. “You left it at the restaurant.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. We need to figure out how to lose these guys.”

“You know that never works,” I said with a sigh. Our clients had recounted horror stories about how the paparazzi followed them relentlessly, almost causing accidents just to get a single picture that might or might not get sold. Their behavior was not only ridiculous, it was dangerous.

“Think, Walker!” I demanded. “Come on, you deal with this every day. I don’t. You have to be somewhat prepared.”

“They already know where I live,” he said with a shrug, “so I don’t try to lose them anymore. There’s no point. They usually follow me home and sit across the street until I go somewhere else.”

“We could go to my office!” I glanced over at him, thrilled that I’d thought of it. “It has pass-only underground parking. They won’t be able to get in.”

“No.” His voice was adamant. “I don’t want to go anywhere near your office, Madison.”

How could I have already forgotten what I admitted to him at dinner? Was it stil

l considered dinner if you never actually got to the main course?

“Screw it,” I said before suddenly making the next right.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going home. It’s not like they can get inside my building, and my condo doesn’t face the street.”