I grip her thighs around my waist as I press the pretty little blonde up against the door of my trailer. I slide my hand under her tank top and yank, pulling it down over her full double-Ds. I find her pebbled nipple and pinch, massaging it with my fingers until it’s erect and hard. I duck my head and take her breast in my mouth.

“Yes, more…”

I tease her nipple with my tongue, grazing it with my teeth.

“Tate!”

I twist her around, lean back, and slap her bare ass hard with my palm. She pouts at me over her shoulder.

“You want more?” I ask.

“Mhmm.”

I smirk. “Your wish is my command…”

I’m tugging off my shirt when there’s a knock at the door. “Tate? It’s Kevin.”

Crap.

I turn around and pull the producers assistant from the door. “It’s been real fun, but my agent’s here, and—”

“But we barely got started, baby. Should I come by another time?” She simpers at me. “Help you go over lines?”

“Hello? Can I come in?”

“Just a second!” I turn back and tackle the elephant in the room. I want to let her down easy, but I’m not sure how I’m going to break it to her that we won’t be going steady anytime soon.

“Who knows?” I say, glancing around my trailer for her panties. “We’ll see each other on set, right?”

“I’m waiting out here!” Kevin yells.

There they are, laying on top of my couch where I’d tossed them after I dragged them down her legs. I grab them, handing them to her as I try to usher her out. “Now put these on and I’ll get back to you.”

Her coy smile is eclipsed with fury. Not my smoothest letdown…

“Tate—”

“I’m coming!” I yell to the door. I turn back to the producers assistant. “Sorry. I just really need you to, um, leave.”

Yup. Another fail.

She snatches the panties out of my hands, shoves them in her pocket, and stomps toward the door. “Do you even know my name?”

“Katie.” I may sleep around but I never forget a name.

“Good guess, but you’re still an asshole!” she shouts, right as she opens the door. Kevin jumps out of the way as she marches down the steps and onto the pavement. “And we’re totally through!”

Kevin slowly turns to face me, his face seething with anger.

“I can explain,” I begin.

He holds up a hand. “Don’t. I’m sure it’s going to be some bullshit excuse that doesn’t come close to an apology.”

“Apologize? This is my trailer.”

“Maybe you should be working instead of playing around,” he hisses.

“I’m in between takes. It’s fine.” I turn around and stroll over to my couch. What’s up his ass today?

Kevin climbs up the stairs, takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly. “I’m not here to argue over how you spend your downtime. I’m here to talk about your future.”

I laugh. “Okay, Dad.”

“Cut that shit out.”

“Hey—you work for me, remember?”

“Not for long,” he mutters.

“What?”

Kevin starts pacing the tiny space. “I said not for long. I’m here to tell you there’s no work. It’s dried up.”

“You’re not looking hard enough, then.”

Kevin stops and stares at me. “Don’t try that shit on me. I’ve scoured this city for gigs. I’ve found plenty.”

“Then?”

“But they vanish the minute I say I’m representing you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re toxic,” he says, pointing a finger at me. “No one in this town wants to touch you.”

I jump to my feet. “What are you talking about? I’m Tate fucking Gunner, Hollywood’s most sought-after—”

“Not anymore,” Kevin interrupts. He takes my seat on the couch and buries his face in his hands. “Your reputation precedes you. It’s that ego of yours. No one wants an actor with a shit-ton of baggage.”

“Baggage? What are you? A therapist?”

“No, I’m your agent, so I know what people are saying.”

“And what are they saying?”

Kevin sticks out a hand and starts listing. “Arrogant, rude, womanizer, partier, egotistical—”

“Whoa!”

“—hothead, difficult, a bad boy.”

I smirk. I kinda liked that last one.

“Basically, every director’s nightmare,” my agent finishes.

“I thought all press is good press?”

“Only people with bad press believe that.” Kevin laughs. “I swear, the only thing missing is a sex tape…uh, you don’t have one, do you?”

I rub the back of my neck. “Not that I know of?”

“Great,” Kevin mutters, leaning back into the couch. “So there’s a possibility.”

“So what? A ton of celebrities have them, and I’m not the first bad boy or hothead in Hollywood.” Although I may be the first celebrity to hold up a certain high profile award ceremony because I was in someone’s dressing room.

“So you’re not the first asshole to line the boulevard, but you’ve burned enough bridges to put yourself out of work.” He shakes his head. “You’re on the wrong side of the fence, Tate, so wake the hell up.”

“Okay, I’ve been a little pompous lately.”

“A little?”

I shoot him a scathing look. “Or a lot. But what if I said I don’t care? I’m a talented actor. People know that. Cream rises, Kev.”

Kevin sighs. “Would you get your head out of your ass?”

“Excuse me?”

“That you’re not the only talented actor in Hollywood. If you don’t straighten out, you’ll be a has-been at the peak of your career. And don’t tell me that’s impossible,” he adds as I open my mouth. “People a lot younger than you have fizzled out in this town before their prime.”

I start pacing. Kevin’s right, even though it kills me to admit it. This city’s brutal, cruel. It makes or breaks people. And it can do that at any stage of your career—multiple times. Just look at Robert Downey Jr. or Rob Lowe.

But they both made it back. Could I?

I face my agent. “Alright, so I have an image problem. What do you do about it?”

“Me? Ah, no. I can’t rehabilitate something this far gone.”

“You’re kidding me. So you came here to tell me I’m screwed?”

“No.” He stands and goes to his briefcase near the door. “I have a solution, but you have to agree to it.”

I shrug. “Sure, whatever it takes.”

He gives a small laugh. “Glad to see you’re throwing yourself into this.” He turns and hands me two headshots. “You’re going to need it.”

I stare at the pictures in my hands. The women look identical with their strawberry blonde hair, fair skin, and delicate features. The main difference is their eyes: one has green, the other has blue.

“They’re hot,” I admit. “Am I going to co-star with them or something?”

“In a way…”

I look at the pictures again. I’m a little peeved I don’t recognize either of them. I usually prefer A-list actresses as my leading ladies. “When’s the production start?”

“As soon as possible,” Kevin says slowly. “But first, I need to confess something.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“One of these women is going to star with you, but…as your girlfriend.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I held an audition today for the role of your girlfriend.” Kevin pauses. “These are the finalists.”

“One of these women is going to be my girlfriend!?” I glance down at them again. Hot, but not my thing. “I don’t have girlfriends.”

“Exactly! That’s why it’s brilliant.” Kevin rests a hand on my shoulder. “I’m not saying you have to marry this woman, just date her. Show the press you’re leveling out, settling down. This is how we’re going to resuscitate your bad boy image, Tate.”

I wrench my shoulder away. “Not happening.”

“It’s the only thing I can think of.”

“Then think harder!” I shout, dumping the pictures on the couch. I’m not shacking up with some ball and chain for the cameras. To date is to die, and at twenty-eight, I’m way too young to settle down.

“Fine. Then you’re officially out of work after this movie.”

“What if I don’t want to do movies anymore?”

Kevin jerks his head around. “What?”

“What if I wanted to try something other than the screen for a while…” I lean against the wall. “Something like the stage.”

Kevin stares at me for a moment and then laughs, doubling over as he gasps for breath. “You want to…act on Broadway?”

“Shut up, Kevin. You don’t have to be an ass.”

“Phew,” he says, clutching his side. “That made my day.”

I scowl at him. “And why is this so hilarious to you?”

“It’s not your talent. It’s that New York is more uptight and image-conscious than L.A.” He shakes his head. “They won’t put up with your image, Tate. You’d be more unemployable there than in Hollywood.”

Something tells me he’s right. That serious New York directors wouldn’t turn a blind eye if I got into a little fun while rehearsing.

I slam my fist into the wall. “Dammit!”

“I know this is hard to accept, but you can come back from this. There is one option…” Kevin nods to the couch.

I grimace at the two pretty faces smiling up at me. Two pretty actresses hoping for the break of their life. I bend over and scoop them up, dragging my eyes across their faces. They’re beautiful. I bet that skin would feel soft under my hands.

I frown. “Hold on. Kevin, please tell me you didn’t cast my exact type.”

His shrug confirms my suspicion.

“You son of a—”

“Whoa, hold on. I’m just doing my job. If you’re going to be stuck with his girl, then why not make her someone you’d actually go for?”

My eyes drift to the girl with the sparkling blue eyes. They’re mesmerizing, even in a matte photograph.

“Okay. I know when I’ve lost.” I hold the photos out to my backstabbing, no-good agent. “What’s next?”

He pushes them back to me. “You choose one.”

“I’m surprised I get a choice in this screwed-up arrangement,” I mutter.

I look down and find myself gazing back at those blue eyes. They’re beautiful, kind, gentle, determined. I don’t think I’d mind seeing those every day.

“This one,” I say, thrusting it at Kevin.

He looks at it and nods. “That was my first choice.”

“Why?”

“She talked back to me,” he says with a shrug.

I arch an eyebrow. “And that’s good because…?”

A smile gathers on his lips. “That means she can handle your shit and hopefully dish it right back.”