Camden

There are many important questions in this world: Which came first, the chicken or the egg? What is the meaning of life? How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop? But for me, at that moment, my most pressing question was: How the hell does one safely unravel himself from a woman he absolutely despises, the morning after what he sincerely hopes is a one-night stand?

I know—you have little to no sympathy for me. Your allegiance no doubt lies with the doe-eyed blonde who presently has me vised between her perfectly tanned thighs and is quite literally crushing the circulation out of my arm with her giant head of clip-on hair. I’ll admit, I fully deserved this conundrum. It was entirely my fault that I was trapped there, but that didn’t make the situation any less irritating. It was 8:45 AM on a Saturday, and the last thing I wanted that morning was to be forced into reassuring this “Kyrsten with a y” that I planned to call her later that week. Definitely wasn’t happening—especially when all I could think of at that moment was driving over to Abbot Kinney and grabbing a breakfast burrito at Erewhon. I could almost taste it.

My stomach growled as I stared at the clock helplessly. I shifted my gaze to Kyrsten and her perfect tits just peeking out from under my overpriced Pratesi sheets, but even that was no consolation. I wanted her gone, but the thought of carrying on a conversation with this daft woman in daylight was not appealing. I really could not hear another word about the couture line of kitty sweaters she planned to launch at some ridiculous boutique on Melrose. Kill me.

I closed my eyes and released a long, pained breath as I stared out at the small patio attached to my master bedroom. I could picture myself sitting there with my cup of coffee in hand and that delicious breakfast burrito, just enjoying life—alone. As I stared back at the nymph who had unceremoniously invaded my bed, my arm began to prickle incessantly. With immeasurable irritation, I carefully tried to shift in the hopes of regaining circulation without awakening the beast.

Then suddenly, as if in answer to my silent prayer, a small miracle occurred: the doorbell rang out a deafening chime. Thank fucking God! I smiled pleasantly as Kyrsten began to stir.

“Is someone at the door?” she mumbled groggily as she nestled in closer. “At this hour?”

I sat up with a note of faux frustration and shook my head ruefully. “I’d better go see who it is,” I told her as I unceremoniously slid myself out from under her, eliciting a whiny protest from her as I hastily elbowed her in the cheek before making my way out of the room and toward the stairs, not even stopping to throw on a t-shirt. Freedom!

Padding down the hallway overlooking my modern, Spanish-style great room, I took in the glorious view of the Pacific Ocean. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the open water like commissioned works of art. Massive skylights in the vaulted ceiling above allowed the early morning sun to pour into the great room. I headed down the stairs and through the living room, which was essentially a page right out of a magazine. No, seriously…I had actually just ripped out the page and handed it to my decorator. The job had required little creativity on her part, much to her disappointment, but within forty-eight hours she had turned an image from an arrogantly trend-conscious magazine into my ill-suited reality. The look was made complete by oversized, white lounge sofas and rustic, reclaimed wood tables, right down to a smattering of vibrant green potted plants that had somehow remained alive under my less-than-watchful eye.

As I approached the front door, I took in discarded stilettos and clothing strewn about the floor. I shook my head, disgusted with myself. It had been amateur hour here last night, and I knew it.

The doorbell chimed again just as I reached for the doorknob. With a hint of irritability, I opened the door and found myself staring at the back of a sleek mane of glossy chestnut hair that dominated a lovely petite frame and flowed downwards toward a perfectly rounded ass.

“Damian, you would never pull this shit with my boss,” the woman belted into her mobile tersely as she combed her fingers through her lustrous mane. “If you’d rather deal with her on this, I’m more than happy to connect you.” Pausing to listen for just a moment, she then continued, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

When she finally turned to face me, I was met with a pair of the loveliest, emerald green eyes, that were momentarily fired up to pounce but quickly cooled as she took in my attire…or lack thereof. She blushed apologetically. I could tell that she liked what she saw, though, and I enjoyed her slow perusal of the washboard abs that I had honed with my trainer for a recent movie role. Even after the picture wrapped more than a year ago, I’d found that the eight-pack was most definitely an amenity worth maintaining given the hungry looks it always drew from women.

A lawnmower suddenly fired up violently next door, forcing the captivating creature before me to motion for permission to come into my home so she could continue her call free of noise. Before I realized what I was doing, I found myself politely stepping aside for her as though it had been my mistake for not letting this perfect stranger into my home sooner.

“I want a retraction, Damian. I’m serious.” She paced my foyer for a moment. “Like, TODAY,” she said firmly as I closed the door behind her, doing my best not to disrupt her call. “Thank you,” she finally said. “You are officially back on the Christmas list. Talk soon.” She quickly ended the call and took a deep breath as she turned to me with a brilliant but hesitant smile. “Hi, I am so incredibly sorry about that, I’m…”

“Who the fuck is that, Camden?” a shrill voice spat out from above me.

I looked up in time to see Kyrsten glaring down at us from the upper balcony in a barely there, pale pink slip. Bloody hell! I clamped my eyes shut in sheer exhaustion, sighing as I remembered the mouth that this girl had on her…and not in a good way. She had a sense of entitlement like no other and spoke rudely to everyone, from the bartender to our waitress and even the homeless man on the street who had wanted her doggie-bag the night before. When I opened my eyes, my gaze met the brunette’s, who shook her head in mild amusement as she took in the clothes lying on the floor and the scantily clad blonde on the balcony. She looked at me once again and said in a whisper so soft that I could barely hear, “Just give me a wink, and I’ll make her disappear.”

The edges of my lips curled curiously upwards as the unexpected offer registered. Had I heard her correctly? I stared at her mischievous face for a moment as I threw on a discarded T-shirt that lay on the floor and soon found myself winking out of sheer mirth as Kyrsten slowly made her way down the stairs.

“Camden, who the fuck is that?” she repeated, crossing her arms in an angry pout as she stared at me expectantly.

Just then, the brunette rounded on me, sliding her hands slowly up my chest and wrapping her arms around my neck. “Darling, I’m so sorry to have woken you,” she purred in a perfect British accent oddly matching my own to a tee, which instantly puzzled me since I could have sworn she had been decidedly American just a moment ago. She stroked either side of my face with her thumbs and instantly put my cock on high alert. “I’ve forgotten my keys again, like an idiot,” she said, smiling sweetly and toying with the hair at the nape of my neck. The slightest hint of arousal unexpectedly began to stir as I responded instantly to the intimacy of her touch. Steady, Atwood.

“I’ve missed you so much, darling. Tell me you’ve missed me,” she said playfully as she stared at me expectantly.

I found myself getting momentarily lost in those lovely green eyes of hers. They were so piercing that it was like she was looking right through me…that is, until they widened insistently, immediately snapping me back to reality.

“What? Oh, yes—yes, of course, darling,” I said stupidly as I tried to remind myself that as an actor, I was paid astronomical sums every other day of the week to deliver the sort of performance that this mystery woman was trying to coax out of me in my own foyer.

Diligently, I snaked my arms around her waist, pulling her closer, and slowly nuzzled into her neck as I inadvertently drank in her scent. She smelled faintly of—what was that? Mmm…apple blossoms, a fragrance which had the unexpected effect of disarming me yet again. Dear God! She was such a beautiful distraction from the drama imminently unfolding. We fit together perfectly, like two puzzle pieces that had found their mate, and I loved the feel of having her in my arms. I couldn’t help but cast a naughty grin her way, but she attempted to rein me back in by coaxing my head upward to meet her gaze, smiling at me wickedly.

“Darling, I plan to have you at least twice before I let you take me to brunch. So, what do you say I go make us some coffee while you take out your trash?” she said turning toward Kyrsten unkindly as I held her in my arms, not feeling any real desire to let her go.

The blonde’s jaw dropped at the implication. “Are you fucking kidding me, Cam? Who is this person?”

The mystery woman snaked her arms tightly around my waist and rested her head on my chest as she turned to Kyrsten matter-of-factly. “Who I am isn’t important. All you need to know is that I’m the woman he always comes back to…. Isn’t that right, darling?”

I smiled wickedly down at her, more than willing to play along with her little performance and nodded conspiratorially before dropping a kiss on her nose–an action that felt oddly natural to me.

Kyrsten’s face fell a bit at the perceived intimacy as she regarded us inquisitively. She turned on me in confusion. “Cam, what is this? Are you like—involved with this woman?”

Mmm, most definitely, I thought to myself stupidly, but the silent plea in the mystery woman’s eyes urged me on. “Uh—yes,” I spat and cast my eyes downward, trying to look tortured and forlorn about our situation. “I’m afraid so, Kyrsten,” I said somberly. “We’ve— tried desperately to deny our—intense feelings for one another—because of the—uh—distance. She lives—far, far away, you see—across the pond.” The mystery woman’s brow furrowed. There’s a reason why my lines are generally written for me. “We just can’t seem to escape the incredible connection that we have,” I said as I stumbled onward. There was a deafening silence in the room. Fuck! I could do better than this. I’m Camden fucking Atwood, damn it!

Attempting to reset the scene, I pulled my faux wifey closer to my body and stroked her hair lovingly as I looked into her eyes. “I didn’t think you’d come back to me, darling, but now you’re here, back in my arms, and I can’t bear the thought of ever letting you go again. Tell me you’ll stay this time, love.” I stroked her hair gently, lulling her into submission, and I could just see that slight hint of surrender register in her eyes.

“I will,” she said in a slow, dreamy tone with just a hint of disbelief in her eyes.

And because the scene called for it, I gently took her face in my hands and dropped the most tender kiss on her lips. I could feel her grasp at the fabric of my shirt with need as she melted ever so slightly into my embrace—just for a moment before she covertly pushed me away. She cleared her throat as she tried to regain her composure, but the dazed look in her eyes told me that I’d had her. I’d like to thank the Academy.

My new soulmate and I emerged from our imagined lovers’ cocoon and turned to Kyrsten for a review of our command performance. It had been a direct hit, and we both knew it. I almost felt bad for the girl and apparently, my faux wifey did, too, since she softened a bit as she released herself from my arms and walked over to Kyrsten and said, “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. You seem like a lovely girl. I’m sure you have much better things to do with your time than to get caught in the middle of our ongoing soap opera.”

Kyrsten had clearly been shell-shocked for a moment but summoned her composure and looked up into the other woman’s eyes defiantly. “Well, I am launching a line of couture sweaters this summer at Fred Segal.

“Kitty couture,” I corrected pettily under my breath as Kyrsten glared at me momentarily.

“Anyway, I do have quite a lot on my plate presently. You’re right; it’s probably not the best time for me to be involved anyway. I have to put my fashion career first, you know,” she declared matter-of-factly.

I tried desperately not to roll my eyes as my pretend girlfriend gave Kyrsten a brilliant smile. “Oh, my God! I just knew you had an entrepreneurial look about you,” she said excitedly. “I can totally understand your wanting to focus on that now and not some guy who didn’t even have the decency to make you a coffee this morning.” She eyed me in faux disgust. My brow furrowed at the mild insult until I saw Kyrsten brighten a bit.

“I know, right? Men are such pigs,” said Krysten.

“Tell me about it,” the mystery woman said conspiratorially.

What was happening here? This woman had now begun to spin herself as Kyrsten’s ally, and Kyrsten was clearly buying right into it as the two now chatted like girlfriends, leaving me and my subpar gender out in the cold. Fuck! It was disturbingly chilly out here without my new paramour in my arms; I thought as my gaze followed her as she commanded the room.

“You know, you’re right! I do have better things to do,” Kyrsten said with renewed confidence as she shot me a glare.

“Of course, I’m right,” said the brunette. “Now, Camden, be a gentleman and help her with her things so she can attend to more important matters whilst I deal with the coffee.”

Whilst? I mouthed to her when Kyrsten wasn’t looking. She shrugged, acknowledging that perhaps she had gone a little too Jane Austen with that one. Nevertheless, it all seemed to be working to this brilliant woman’s plan. Kyrsten was beginning to collect her belongings. I cast a grateful glance at my mysterious savior. When our eyes locked, she stifled a grin. Kyrsten had obviously picked up on the moment and turned to me.

“You know, I can tell you two have something incredibly special. This is going to sound crazy, but I actually hope it works out for you guys.” Kyrsten smiled sweetly without a hint of her usual venom.

The mystery woman wrapped an arm around my waist and smiled up at me as she caressed my chest gently, making us the very picture of a happy couple.

She was good. Very, very good.

---

Once I had helped Kyrsten find the bra that had somehow magically wound up floating in my aquarium and the thong hanging from the ficus tree in my living room like a damned Christmas ornament, I walked her out of the house, hugged her, and sent her on her merry way. It was all somehow completely civilized.

The moment the dust had settled though, I made the journey to the kitchen with a bit of trepidation. I had gotten rid of the devil I knew but couldn’t be sure if what awaited me in the kitchen was a good witch or a bad witch.

The mystery woman was busying herself in the stainless steel and white marble mecca that was my virtually unused kitchen, fiddling expertly with my Nespresso machine. She turned to me and asked innocently, in a now unmistakably American accent with just the sexiest hint of rasp to it, “Wanna latte?”

I nodded in agreement as an amused smile crept to my lips. “You know, you’re quite the little spin artist.”

She tried to stifle a grin of her own. “I suppose you could say that,” she said smoothly as she drew a sip from her mug, allowing a mildly awkward silence to envelop us.

I crossed my arms expectantly as I regarded her. “Are you literally not going to tell me who you are, then?”

The woman smiled coquettishly as she took another sip from her mug. “Now, where would the fun be in that?” she said slyly. As soon as my mug had finished filling, my peculiar guest walked over to hand it to me. “I have to say, I’m rather enjoying having the ‘great’ Camden Atwood at a bit of a disadvantage. How many women can ever say that?” she said with a grin. I smirked at the thought, and our eyes met for a moment; both of us clearly enjoying the game of cat and mouse that was already well underway.

The mood, however, was quickly broken by a ruckus in the living room as my publicist, Evelyn Masters, stormed into the kitchen. Despite her designer, all-black wardrobe, there was always a look of exhaustion and general sloppiness about her that made her expensive outfits look frumpy, but she was the best publicist in Hollywood. The whole world was petrified of her, which in my business was a luxury your entourage couldn’t afford to be without.

“There you are,” she roared as she bypassed me and approached the woman that I had just been pleasantly eye-fucking. “Honestly, Katherine, why is it so hard for you to follow simple instructions? I told you to wait outside until I arrived,” said Evelyn. For the first time that morning, that infectious grin dropped off the mystery woman’s lovely face.

She rolled her eyes, obviously irritated by Evelyn’s aggressive interruption. “Calm down, Evelyn. I saw a black Audi in the driveway when I arrived and assumed it was yours, so I rang the bell, thinking I was late. We were supposed to be here at nine for the meeting, weren’t we?” she gently reminded the older woman as she checked the time on the microwave, which now read quarter-past.

Evelyn ignored her and now turned her concerned gaze onto me. “There was another car in the driveway this morning? Do I need to worry about that?”

Evelyn Masters always had a way of making you feel like you had a loaded gun pointed at you whenever she looked at you. It was something to be avoided at all costs.

“No, Evelyn, everything’s fine,” I soothed. “Katherine actually helped me out quite efficiently with that…” I said, eyeing her to offer my support.

“It’s Kate, actually,” she smiled shyly.

Evelyn sighed with exasperation. “Please don’t tell me she came in here and made herself at home and didn’t properly introduce herself?”

“Of course, she introduced herself,” I said, not wanting Kate to have to suffer the further wrath of Evelyn Masters; I owed her at least that. “It—would have been odd if she hadn’t, I suppose,” I continued as I shot Kate a playful grin that elicited a beautiful pale rose blush from her cheeks. “I’m just terrible with names. You know that, Evie,” I said attempting nonchalance.

“I was just about to explain to him that I was the newly assigned junior publicist on his account when you arrived,” Kate explained in exhaustion. I offered her a conspiratorial smile as she leaned over the counter–the tension in her petite frame releasing just a bit as she mindlessly snagged a mint M&M out of the candy bowl on the counter.

Evelyn stared at her incredulously. “Can we make you a sandwich, or perhaps an omelet, Kate?”

Kate popped the candy in her mouth, undaunted. “No, I’m good,” she said. “I had a breakfast burrito before I got here.” The smug reply gave me a jealous chuckle as my stomach quietly growled again. This woman was fan-fucking-tastic.

Evelyn huffed in exasperation. “Can we get this meeting started, please? I have things to do today,” she said not waiting for a reply as she headed off to the great room and plopped herself down on my leather sofa. She immediately began arranging papers on the coffee table—presumably for our impending discussion—whatever that was.

I turned to Kate and whispered, “I don’t suppose you could tell me what this meeting is about?” Kate smiled gently as she returned the milk to the sub-zero.

“Evelyn has the proposed Due North international publicity tour schedule from the studio,” she said as she grabbed her purse off the counter and slung it over her shoulder.

Due North was my latest film project, a modern retelling of a classic Hitchcock film, and if I was being honest, it was a brilliant movie. Amazing director–classic story with an unexpected twist, and a cast that was a list of Hollywood’s top earners. There were no bullshit superheroes or CGI monsters. If this film wasn’t ripe to be a critical hit, I didn’t know what was.

“She wants to go over the schedule with you, so you can decide which cities to make stops in and what press you should do,” Kate explained.

I nodded, vaguely remembering my assistant mentioning it, though I’m sure I hadn’t registered the hour it was to take place. As was often the case with Lizzy, she had forgotten to put the meeting on my iCal. I rolled my eyes at the thought as I watched Kate preparing to leave the room, her curvaceous form drawing me in once again. One thing was clear: she was as gorgeous going as she was coming. Hmmm, coming, I thought with a grin as I reached out for her arm, fulfilling some deep-seated need to touch her smooth, olive-toned skin. “One more thing, did you really have a breakfast burrito before you came here this morning?”

Kate’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, why?”

“Well, I thought you said you planned on having me at least twice this morning before brunch?” I said playfully, hoping to open the door to a different type of interaction between us.

Kate cocked her head, seemingly unamused and smiled politely as she pointedly released her arm from my gentle grip. “In the words of the great poets known as Destiny’s Child, ‘I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly,’” she said as she patted my chest in consolation. “Besides which, from the look of things around here this morning, you should give that thing a rest,” she said, cheekily glancing at my boxer-clad package.

Kate was clearly not interested in succumbing to my ploy—a ploy that would have had a lesser woman slipping me her phone number for a later romp in the sheets. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her as she walked away from me and certainly couldn’t shake the idea of looking down at that mischievous smile laying beneath me as I slowly pounded my cock into her curvaceous little body. At that moment, I knew I was most definitely hooked.