Chapter One
Claire Jordan went by a lot of names—hottest actress under thirty, sexiest woman alive, Duck Lips (that was her brother)—but she’d yet to be called, um, slut. At least, not to her face.
She stifled a laugh as she sat in the circle of seven women gathered in the private executive lounge of the luxury hotel in New York City that was her temporary home. The twentysomething women had formed a singles book club, but after months of no men joining them, they were now debating a more fitting name. Mad (short for Madison) Campbell, a petite badass with short purple dyed hair, had suggested “SLUTS,” and a spirited debate over the pros and cons ensued.
Claire didn’t comment, she was a temporary member, but she sure as hell enjoyed the show. And it distracted the leader of the book club, Hailey Adams, from her mission to get Claire out on a date. The woman, an ambitious wedding planner/matchmaker with a heart of gold, was appalled at Claire’s year-long break from men. Claire had good reason, plus the rumors that the onscreen chemistry between her and her costar had carried over to real life were crucial to the buzz for her movie. She’d sunk everything she had into producing the Fierce trilogy movies. She couldn’t afford a huge marketing campaign on top of that. The temporary pleasure of a date would never be worth the risk of losing all that free press or, worse, dealing with bad press before the release next year. So what if the ache of loneliness sometimes made it hard to breathe? That was the price she paid to live her dream.
Mad straightened out of her usual slouch and lifted her chin. “What’s wrong with Super Lovers of Underrated Terrific Stories?”
Hailey tossed her long strawberry blonde hair over one shoulder and barked, “For the last time, we are not calling ourselves SLUTS!”
A sly expression crossed Mad’s face as she tapped her finger against her lips. Her black T-shirt, ripped down the center in a small V, read Try Me. What Claire wouldn’t give to be more like Mad—enjoying not giving a fuck. Claire always had to be protective of her image. Something she’d learned the hard way on more than one occasion. Now she didn’t let anyone close enough to damage her rep or her heart.
“We need something with good energy,” another woman said. “We’re a romance book club. Something with love.”
The other women agreed and chatted quietly to each other about the possibilities. Claire remained silent. It was late September and she’d only be filming Fierce Longing, based on the bestselling novel by book club member Julia Marino, for two more months. Then she’d be onto the next project. Life of an actor. It was rare for the friendships forged on location to continue. Sure, she’d see some of the crew on the next movie she produced, if they were available, but for the most part the people in her life changed with each film.
Mad smiled widely, leaning forward in her enthusiasm, revealing a small hawk tattoo above her heart. “Superb Lovers in Triumphant Stories.”
Hailey went nearly apoplectic in her seat, her pale skin flushing, before she caught Mad’s smug expression. Then she composed herself enough to say, “Sure, Mad. We’d love to be called SLITS.”
Mad went for the kill. “Complete Lovers In Te—”
“No!” Hailey shouted, leaping from her seat. She looked around, seeming surprised to find herself standing.
“Mad, you devil,” Claire said with a grin.
Mad snickered.
Hailey nodded once at Claire and regained her composure, returning to her seat and smoothing the front of her blue dress. Hailey was the only one dressed up. Claire wore her casual outfit—a black silk blouse with black jeans and bright orange Gucci pumps. Even in her downtime, she still had to look photo ready just in case. Her new friends hadn’t even asked for a selfie with her, something she was sure was Hailey’s doing. Hailey had made it possible for Claire to attend Julia’s wedding three months ago in Clover Park, Connecticut, with impressive discretion from the security detail to the gentle handling of guests, who were not permitted to share images or stories of Claire. Amazing really, considering there were a hundred guests and not one of them signed a nondisclosure. Of course, the paparazzi had hovered nearby the mansion where the wedding and reception were held, but not one picture or story on Claire from inside the mansion had appeared anywhere. That was the power of Hailey. Keeping Claire’s privacy within a small book club was a stroll in the park after that. Besides, Claire already trusted Julia because they were equally invested in the Fierce trilogy. The other women had grown on her quickly over the past month with their warmth and good humor, and none of them had breathed a word about Claire.
Julia had been the one to invite Claire and had arranged for the book club to meet in the private lounge, a bland space done in muted gray with white sofas and plush white chairs, instead of Claire’s penthouse suite, to help the other women “focus on the real you.” Claire didn’t mind. She rarely let anyone into her private space. Julia was a total sweetheart, smoothing things over at that first awkward meeting and assuring everyone that Claire was a bookworm just like them. She’d met the book club briefly at the wedding, where they’d been starstruck, but that passed quickly at her first book club meeting when Claire snorted iced tea out her nose over something Mad said. Claire hadn’t always been glam. It was a part she played like any other.
“Smut book club!” another woman exclaimed. “We do like smutty stories.”
A sweet woman in glasses added in a throaty purr, “I read for pleasure.”
Everyone cracked up.
It was Julia who finally came up with the winning turn of phrase. She was the writer, after all. “The Happy Endings Book Club. We all love a happy ending, right? And it’s a little wink at the other kind of happy ending.”
“I’m all about hot sex,” Mad said seriously. “I barely read at all until I found Fierce Longing.”
Julia blushed, bright pink dotting her cheeks. She lifted her long brown hair off her neck. “Thank you.”
“You’ve got one dirty mind,” Mad said appreciatively.
Julia’s blush spread to her neck. “Thanks,” she muttered, dropping her hair and fidgeting in her seat.
“I never woulda guessed it of ya,” Mad said, seeming to enjoy making Julia squirm. Julia was a true introvert and, sadly, a monster blusher. Her color crept into the red zone as Mad waved up and down Julia’s body. “What with that whole girl-next-door thing you’ve got going on. Barely any skin showing—”
“It’s settled!” Hailey announced. “The Happy Endings Book Club. Any objections?” She pointed her pink fingernail at each of them in turn, and finding no objections, she beamed. “Okay! Happy Endings Book Club members, our next book will be…”
The women leaned in.
“Gone with the Wind!” Hailey exclaimed. “And we can watch the movie after we read it.”
The women seemed pleased with this choice. As the room quieted, Hailey’s gaze landed on Claire, and Claire did her best to play it cool. Any pause in the action always seemed to remind Hailey that Claire really needed to get back into the dating game. She’d remained fixated on Claire, she was sure, in the hopes of ultimately planning a big celebrity wedding. Claire tread carefully and politely, she didn’t want things to get awkward at book club. She knew Hailey had good intentions, and Claire really needed this girl-bonding time in her life.
Mad delayed the inevitable Hailey prodding by producing a bottle of tequila from her canvas messenger bag. “Maybe book club is ready to branch out a bit from books.” She took a slug, wiped the rim with her sleeve, and passed it to Julia, who did likewise. The bottle made its way around the circle of women. Claire took a healthy swig, wiped the rim, and passed it to Hailey. She loved that they all drank from the same bottle. Like they were spit sisters.
The conversation got loud and raunchy after that. The women swapped stories on the worst sex they’d had with sloppy kissers, fumblers, and one-minute wonders. Claire kept her mouth shut because her boyfriends were recognizable names. Gorgeous, chiseled male perfection with big wallets and big egos. And shriveled cold hearts. Mad passed the tequila bottle back to Claire, and after another healthy swig, she found herself admitting, “Men just want bragging rights they’ve been with Claire Jordan. They don’t care about me.” She swallowed over the lump in her throat. “At all.”
The women fell silent, their gazes sympathetic, and she realized she’d said too much. She was at the top of her game, the elite tier of Hollywood that so few ever reached, and had absolutely nothing to complain about. “I mean…” Damn, she’d just depressed the hell out of herself admitting the truth. Men used her.
“If only they could all be like Damon,” Mad said, breaking the awkward silence. That was the hero of the Fierce trilogy. She turned to Julia. “I can’t believe you made him up. Why can’t he be real?”
Julia blushed. “I’m sure there’s a Damon out there for all of you.”
Doubtful. Since Damon was actually Julia’s husband, Angel. Claire was one of the few people who knew this fact, having picked up on it at her first meeting with them. Julia had sworn her to secrecy and got it in writing. Claire found it all supremely romantic.
Hailey’s voice rang out, firm and confident. “Claire, I can help you.”
Claire straightened, suddenly wary even in her buzzed state. The moment she’d been dreading ever since, well, since she’d discovered the leader of the book club had motivations beyond sharing a love of books.
“Here we go!” Mad exclaimed.
The women tittered. Hailey’s serious I mean business face was a little funny—the l-o-o-ove business. Two swigs of tequila made it tough for Claire to keep a straight face. Hailey’s business card had silver embossed bells and read Hailey Adams, Love Junkie, for crying out loud! Not funny, not funny.
Hailey pinned Claire with a determined look. “It’s no secret that you’ve been with Hollywood royalty. And I think you’d enjoy a regular date with a regular guy.”
Claire cocked her head and got a little dizzy. This was new. Usually Hailey just urged Claire to get back out there. She’d never been so specific. She wondered who the regular guy was and what he did that was so regular.
Before she could ask, Mad piped up. “How do you expect her to do that? She can barely leave the hotel without starting a riot.”
Reality hit. In her tequila-soaked happy place, she’d been thinking impossible things, like she could actually have a regular date as her old irreverent down-to-earth regular self. Did that person even exist anymore? Some part of her feared she’d played the glamorous Claire Jordan so long she might’ve lost herself.
“I’m super busy, Hailey,” Claire said politely, ending the date conversation. “Thanks, though.”
“Are you still off on Monday?” Hailey asked as if Claire hadn’t just ended the conversation. “I’m thinking a hike with a picnic.”
Hailey knew Claire’s schedule because the women worked around it for their book club meetings, which Claire was humbled and grateful for. She put in long hours as producer, director, and lead actress on the Fierce movies through her production company Red Jewel Films. Claire bit back a sigh. This was a dangerous idea, even if she secretly longed for something as normal as a hike with a picnic. Some of her favorite memories were of camping in North Carolina when her dad was stationed there for the army. Still, Hailey had to realize this plan had a ton of flaws in it.
“Impossible,” Claire stated with great finality. Ending the conversation.
Julia spoke up. “A disguise could work. It’s just like those stories when someone royal wants to feel what it’s like among the commoners.”
Claire shot Julia a dark look for encouraging Hailey. “That’s not fair to my date. What if he actually liked the person in disguise and then it turns out to be a lie?” That was what happened in all those princess and peasant stories. And, boy, would that guy be pissed and likely take his revenge out in the press. She’d barely recovered from the last PR nightmare that had soured her on men. Last year she had to take her egocentric manwhore ex to court for taking nude pictures of her when she was sleeping (after mediocre sex) and selling them to the highest trashy bidder. She suppressed a shudder at the memory. The risk of exposure would never be worth any picnic.
Hailey framed a dreamy vision in the air like she was the director. “Picture this. You’re in disguise as regular girl Jenny Coleman. I suggest a redheaded wig. Josh has a thing for redheads.” She flushed bright pink. “He once told me that.”
Claire clamped her mouth shut over the natural question that sprang to mind. Who’s Josh? It didn’t matter who Josh was because this date was not happening. And too bad about the redhead thing because she was a brunette for this movie. Normally she was blonde.
“You’re a redhead,” Julia said to Hailey.
“She’s strawberry blond,” Mad said in a chirpy impersonation of Hailey. The women snickered. She really did sound like Hailey.
Hailey shot Mad a quelling look, which Mad responded to by blowing her a kiss.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” Claire said firmly. She could already see the headlines that would ruin her movie buzz—Claire Jordan splits with costar Blake Grenier to sneak off in disguise with secret lover! Damon and Mia break up! (Damon and Mia were their characters’ names in the Fierce movies, and they still had two more to film.) Or some catchier but equally damaging headline.
She’d never get to have normal. The book club was as close as she’d get. She got all mushy, taking in her new friends. Their friendship over the last month meant so much to her. They eased the empty ache of loneliness she used to desperately try to fill with parties and work and shiny people. She was saved from the dopey, “I love you, guys,” on the tip of her tongue when Hailey ordered, “Someone pass the tequila to Claire.”
The nearly empty bottle made its way around the circle to her.
“Eat the worm,” Hailey said.
Claire stared at the curled-up disgusting worm at the bottom of the bottle. What kind of crap tequila was this anyway? She’d never seen a worm in the tequila bottles at any of the parties she’d been to. Must be some kind of off brand.
“You eat the worm,” Claire returned.
A rare silence fell over the usually chatty group.
Hailey’s blue eyes held a challenge. “Eat the worm and I’ll drop the date thing.” It suddenly occurred to Claire that Hailey wasn’t all pink fluff and determined cheer. There were claws.
Claire had never backed down from a challenge. She grabbed a nearby empty water glass, poured the tequila out, and snagged the worm with two fingers. Someone gasped.
It was so mushy. She felt queasy.
Hailey narrowed her eyes.
Claire tilted her head back, opened her mouth, and—
Threw it at Hailey.
Unfortunately she missed and it landed on the floor in front of Hailey, who scooped it up and stood, holding it high in the air. “Behold the worm of fate!”
“Eat it, eat it,” Mad chanted.
Hailey threw it at Mad, who quickly tossed it at Julia. The women shrieked as the worm got tossed around like a gross potato before it finally landed on Charlotte, a personal trainer, who had no qualms about picking it up and tossing it in the trash.
“The worm of fate is heading to the dump,” Claire said with a laugh, hoping that was the end of this date nonsense. The women laughed along with her, except for Hailey, who looked determined to help Claire.
“Chill,” Mad said to Hailey. “Geez, you look like a nutty general staring her down like that. You can’t make someone go on a date. It’s a free country.”
Hailey’s gaze never faltered.
Claire grabbed the water glass with tequila and took a swig. “So your plan is to send me into the woods alone with some strange guy?” she asked in the tone of duh, serial killer.
“It’s not some strange guy,” Hailey said. “It’s Josh.”
Claire’s natural curiosity won out. “Who’s Josh?”
“Mad’s older brother,” Hailey said, hitching a thumb at Mad. “Actually I don’t know if that’s a selling point.”
“Ooh! Dagger to the heart!” Mad exclaimed, miming a knife to her heart and then making dramatic, jerky death throes before collapsing to the floor.
The women applauded. Claire too. Mad lifted her head with a grin.
“Ha-ha,” Hailey said. “Mad, please don’t tell Josh who Claire really is.”
“Why would I do that?” Mad asked. “Claire’s my friend.” She raised a fist, leaned over, and gave Claire a fist bump.
“Because he’s your brother,” Hailey said in an exasperated voice.
Mad rolled her eyes. “Hey, if he wants to go on a bunch of blind dates set up by you for the idiotic reason of making you jealous, then he deserves what he gets.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Hailey said, smoothing her hair. “Josh and I have an understanding. He’s part of my business plan.”
“Moron.” Mad stood. “Excuse me while I take a wiz.”
“My Lord, it’s like she was raised by wolves,” Hailey muttered.
“Just about,” Mad said and headed to the private bathroom on the far side of the lounge.
Hailey gestured for Claire to come closer. Claire shook her head and got woozy. She might’ve had a swig too many with her spit sisters.
Hailey huffed. “Fine! I’ll tell everyone. I’ve never had any complaints from the women Josh takes out. They all say he’s a perfect gentleman and never makes a move.” She paused, a puzzled expression on her face. “That’s weird, isn’t it? Now that I think about it. Why doesn’t he make a move?”
“Maybe he’s gay,” Charlotte said, stretching out her long legs. “All the hot ones are.” She turned to Claire. “He’s a bartender at Garner’s back in Clover Park. Majorly hot.”
Hailey flushed. “No, he’s definitely not gay.” Her brow furrowed as she continued the conversation with herself. “Not one of those women ever appealed enough to make a move? Unlikely. I’d better call and find out what’s up with that.” She grabbed her purse and headed out of the lounge.
Claire suspected there might be something to Mad’s theory that Josh only took the women out to make Hailey jealous. That would explain why he kept the date platonic. Besides, if he was majorly hot, why would he need to go on blind dates at all?
Claire took that opportunity to get the bag she’d stashed behind the bar with all the signed Fierce Longing books. She headed to the table on the far side of the room and stacked all the books. “I brought you ladies a present. Signed by me and Blake. After Julia signs them as Catherine Cliff, they’re all yours.” That was Julia’s pen name.
The women cheered.
Julia beamed. “Let me get a pen.”
“This is so cool!” Charlotte exclaimed. “The trifecta! Ladies, keep your signed book in a safe place. It’s going to be worth millions one day.”
Claire smiled. Doubtful. But it would be a very special memento of their brief time together. She snagged a book for herself. “I want you all to sign mine.”
Mad returned a few minutes later and grabbed a book for herself, peeking in at the signatures. “Awesome. Thanks, Claire.”
“You’re welcome,” Claire said. “Make sure you sign mine. It’s making the rounds.”
“You’re okay,” Mad said with a big smile.
Her heart squeezed, her eyes suddenly stinging with unshed tears. “You too,” she managed.
Hailey returned, cell phone in hand, and stopped next to Claire to announce, “He says the sex is free, but they have to ask him. He wants a clear affirmation of desire and consent.” She flushed bright pink. “So that’s the deal. That’s nice, I think.”
“Oh my God,” Charlotte exclaimed. “He seriously said that?”
Claire had no idea what to say to that. She stared at Hailey blankly.
Hailey cleared her throat and then coughed. “Those were his exact words.”
A disturbing thought suddenly occurred to Claire. “Wait. The sex is free? What isn’t free?”
“Uh…” Hailey looked around like someone else might answer.
“Did you offer to pay him to take me out?” Claire asked, incredulous. Not only was this a setup, but Hailey had to pay the guy to take her out? Unbelievable!
Hailey put her hand reassuringly on Claire’s arm. “He’s the warm-up guy. I have to give him some incentive.” She smiled brightly. “Anyway, you’ll like him. I’m sure you’ll be thanking me later.”
Julia looked up. “I’d give Josh my book club stamp of approval.” She stamped the table with an imaginary stamper.
The women all followed suit, stamping an imaginary stamp in their palm. Even Mad.
Book club approved.
Claire slumped in her seat. She could have anyone. There was no door closed to her.
Except for the door with a regular-guy date behind it. Could she really have a little fun adventure and no one would get hurt? She missed being her old self, missed not worrying about what she said or how she looked. And she really missed moving freely without the paparazzi, enjoying nature. She looked up to find the women all smiling encouragingly at her. She so wanted to say yes.
No, it was impossible. She was tequila dreaming. The rational part of herself knew better. She could never have the regular-girl experience and definitely not with a paid escort.
“I can’t go out with someone paid to be with me,” she finally said, and the women sighed in disappointment. “You see how that could look bad if it got out?”
Hailey worried her bottom lip. “I’ll see if I can work something out. No, I know I can. Don’t worry, Claire, I’ll take care of everything.”
Claire rubbed her forehead. Two (or was it three?) swigs of tequila made thinking tough. “Let me think it over.”
Mad produced a second bottle of tequila from her bag—no worm in this one—and started a game of “Never Have I Ever” that had them rolling on the floor. Because Mad had done some weird-ass things—setting up plastic pink flamingos on the principal’s front lawn, dressing up like Darth Vader for prom, disguising herself as a boy and kicking ass on the Police Athletic League’s baseball team. At the time, they’d wanted girls to stick to softball. She was tough and smart and Claire had a bit of a girl crush. Not the sexy kind, just the let’s hang out kind. And because she liked Mad so much, she was warming to the idea of a fun date with her brother. Sight unseen.
Yikes! She must’ve had too much to drink.
Finally, it was late and they were all fighting back yawns. They said their goodbyes. Everyone left with a signed book, and Claire had her own signed memento clutched to her chest to ward off the returning ache of loneliness as she watched the group leave without her. The women chatted; occasionally one would grab the other’s arm, smiling and drawing close as they spoke. She swallowed down the familiar feeling of being on the outside. She had grown up a military brat, transforming herself to fit in at whatever new school she found herself in. Great training for an actor. Hard on her tender heart.
“Ciao!” she called. “Thanks for coming.”
“Ciao!” a chorus called back, sounding exactly like her. She smiled. She liked that they felt comfortable enough to joke around with her now.
The door clicked shut behind them, the room quiet and empty. Her smile dropped. She turned and headed for the private door in the back of the lounge, where her bodyguard, Frank, an enormous Hawaiian man with a shaved head and stone-faced expression, waited. She’d had to hire full-time security after Neighborly Attraction came out last year. She’d played the virginal heroine, who takes her sexy neighbor up on his offer for lessons in seduction. Too many fans had tried to get close enough to teach her more sex lessons. She’d nearly had a heart attack when she’d discovered a strange man naked in her bed in her San Francisco home. Fortunately he’d stayed in the bed, trying to coax her to join him with lines from the movie, while she ran to the safety of her car and peeled out of there.
She went to her penthouse suite, her buzz from the tequila and being with her friends fading. Her huge silent shadow, Frank, followed close behind. There were no adjacent rooms. She had the entire top floor, with Frank in the room directly below hers nearest the stairs. After he did a quick check of her rooms, she told him goodnight and stepped inside the marbled foyer. She moved through the suite, making herself stop and appreciate the opulent accommodations, all done in shades of white and silver with royal blue accents—two bedrooms, each with a king-size bed and walk-in closet, a living room with a big-screen TV and modern geometric paintings, a dining room with seating for eight, a kitchenette, and the best, a private outdoor terrace with a spectacular view of the city.
She told herself to shake off the melancholy. Sure, fame had a price, but she had all of this. And a career she loved. She kicked off her pumps and padded in her bare feet to the master bathroom to get ready for bed. She made herself admire the oversized tub with jets, separate double shower stall, and the long marble counter, stopping when she caught her reflection in the mirror. She almost didn’t recognize herself for a moment. Her shoulder-length hair was dyed dark brown for the movie, and it made her hazel eyes look more brown than green. But it was the haunted, fatigued expression on her drawn face that made her gut twist. She looked as unhappy as she felt. Something she could never, ever let show in public.
She turned her back on her reflection. She could never admit it to anyone.
It was damn lonely at the top.
Her cell vibrated and she pulled it from her jeans pocket. A text from Hailey with the address for the picnic date. She sighed. She had to put an end to this silliness.
Another text came through. Meet him Monday at three.
Hey, she hadn’t agreed to that.
Hailey texted an emoticon blowing a kiss. Claire found herself smiling. She knew Hailey meant well.
She texted back a smiley face. It all felt so normal. Texting silly things with friends. Claire could do that.
Jenny Coleman could do that and more.
Did she dare risk it? The idea took hold, blooming in her mind, filling her with giddy anticipation. He was book club approved. He was Mad’s brother. He always took out women as part of Hailey’s business plan in a perfectly gentlemanly way. The circumstances couldn’t have been more ideal. It was practically risk-free as Jenny. Even if he recognized her in disguise, she could trust him by association not to spill her secret. Probably.
She quickly texted Hailey that she’d be there, turned, and caught her flushed happy expression in the mirror. She would take a chance on being her old regular self. She just hoped she remembered how.