We drive the short distance toward the brightly lit, huge barn, capable of holding hundreds of people. Will there be that many, I wonder nervously.

“What should I expect at a barn party?” I ask.

He turns to me with a crooked grin. “A hog-killin’ time.”

I crinkle my nose at the description.

Lars laughs. “That’s country talk for a blast.”

“Oh yeah?” I say doubtfully.

“I swear, it’s just good clean fun. Food, beer, and a bit of dancing.”

I chew my lower lip. “What are the chances of anybody in there recognizing me?”

He stops smiling and throws me a serious glance. “Do you want to be recognized?”

I shake my head vigorously.

He grins. “I can’t be a hundred percent certain, but it’s a pretty safe bet that no one in there has heard of you.”

A great weight falls from my chest. No one in there knows about the bad reputation Tamara has in L.A. I can just relax and be myself. “How many people come to these parties?” I ask as Lars parks and kills the engine.

There is music coming from the massive building and shadows dance across the ground. I have yet to see any bodies, but judging from the pickups parked all around us, I know they’re all inside. Lars comes around, opens my door for me, and offers a hand to help me down from the truck.

“It’s hard to say. I never really know what to expect. This party should be smaller than most, since five families are on vacation and some folks couldn’t make it. I expect around seventy-five to turn out, but I could be wrong. There could be a lot more, or less, depending on the guests they bring.”

I go to open the truck’s back door, but Lars gently tugs me in the opposite direction.

“The food. We need to carry it inside,” I remind, turning to look up at Lars.

The shine of his eyes halts me in my tracks and my jaw drops. That simple gaze from him does something amazing to me. I’m seriously in trouble of falling hard for this man.

“Since we brought the food, somebody else will come and get it,” he explains, but his voice is much deeper than before and his eyes are dark.

“Okay, let’s go then?” I say slowly, trying to make sure I don’t stutter or skip any words.

“In a minute.” He reaches behind me and pushes the door closed before sandwiching me between it and his body. His hard thighs brush against my naked legs.

“Yo, Lars!” someone yells from the barn.

A small, growl-like sound emanates from Lars’ throat.

“Saved by the bell,” I croak, and push at his chest lightly, but my fingers want to curl and clutch his shirt.

He takes a respectful step backward and raises his hand to the man walking in our direction.

“Who is that?” I ask.

“I have no idea. Must be a guest of one of the men,” he says.

“Man, you threw a real banger this time. This might be one of the biggest yet,” the man shouts, slapping Lars drunkenly on the shoulder. Lars’ easy expression makes it look as if he knows the man, but the way he stands angled directly in front of me as if he is shielding me from him, tells a different story.

“Are there a lot of people in there?” Lars asks.

“Barn’s packed to the rafters.”

So, the party is a lot bigger than Lars was expecting.

“Well, why don’t you go tell them that the food’s in my truck and needs to be carried inside?” Lars asks.

The man grins, then tips to the side before overcorrecting his movement and flinging himself in the other direction. He just barely stays on his feet. Laughing, he chugs the rest of his beer before discarding the empty bottle on the ground and smiling glassily at us.

As the man staggers into the barn, Lars turns back toward me, wraps his arms around my waist, and plants his lips directly on mine. The kiss is sweet and gentle, and I melt as the delicious warmth of his body seeps into my skin.

He raises his head reluctantly. “You’re staying by my side all night. No exceptions and no questions, understood?”

My head is swimming and I don’t think I am able to deny him anything. I simply nod and allow him to pull me toward the barn. How strange. I feel like I belong in his grasp. As we get closer, the sounds grow louder and the smell of alcohol and hay grows thicker.

Lars opens the barn door and a dozen laughing people file out. They are on their way to get the food and carry it inside. They wave and greet Lars and he returns their greetings. Inside, there are groups of people gathered around, drinking and talking. The middle space has been reserved for dancing, and I see Chance leading a dark-haired girl in a long skirt and cowboy boots in a country style dance. He looks up, spots us, and waves. I wave back.

Lars moves through the crowd with ease, all the while keeping a tight grasp on my hand. Soon, we stop to talk to a group of guys in Stetson hats almost identical to Lars. Of course, none of them have hair as nice and well-maintained as his, or look as handsome as he does. A man with a long gray beard and red cheeks tips his hat to me and grins.

“Well, I’ll be a billy goat. I’m thinkin’ Lars jes’ found himself a sweet huckleberry to marry him. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

I feel my ears begin to burn. “Tamara.”

The man nods sagely. “That’s a mighty fine name for a purdy gal.”

“Cut your wobblin’ jaw, Chester. She’s with me,” Lars says, pulling me into his side.

He just told everybody I’m with him. Something inside me leaps with joy.

Chester laughs jovially. “Don’t dig for your cannon, son. I’m not one to go milkin’ my neighbor’s cow.”

“Hold up,” one of the other men in the group interrupts, “ain’t you that celebrity? Tamara Honeydew or something?

I can feel my brain swirl as I try to find words. Even though I hate the idea, I am Tamara Honeywell for another nine days.

Lars chuckles. “What would we do with a hot shot celebrity on this ranch, Vernon? Get her to clean out the horse pins?”

I almost crack a grin. Cleaning horse pins is exactly what I’ve been doing and Lars knows it. Is he hiding my identity to protect his own reputation, or mine?

“Great, you guys just carry on talking as if I’m not here,” I say.

Chester’s eyes twinkle as he cackles heartily. “You got yourself a live one here, son,”

“Don’t I know it?” Lars says and pulls me even more snugly into his side. I look up at him and see pride in his eyes. My heart swells with happiness. He is proud of me.

“See you later, guys,” he says, not taking his gaze off me. With me glued to his side, we walk away from the group of men.

“You look so sexy,” he breathes into my ear.

My spine straightens involuntarily and I turn my eyes to his. He’s trying to look innocent, but we both know that he is the furthest thing from it. Daringly, I reach up and pull his head down until his ear is inches away from my lips. “Guess what?” I whisper.

“What?”

“I look sexier without my clothes.”

He is still trying to assimilate my words when I break from him and move into the crowd. I’m not typically a tease, or overconfident, but I feel like I can be anything with him. I turn back to look at him and he is still staring at me with an intrigued expression. “Where are you going?” he mouths.

“Wait there. I’ll get us a couple of drinks,” I mouth back.

As I turn back to walk toward the bar, I bump into a huge, burly man. He has a receding hairline and beady black eyes. I apologize swiftly. He looks at me funny but doesn’t say anything, and I continue pushing through the crowd. Suddenly, a large hand latches onto my arm. I whirl around. It’s the same man I bumped into seconds earlier.

“Well, I’ll be darned. You’re Tamara Honeywell, aren’t you” he says, his eyes full of admiration.

“Oh, uh, yeah.”

“I’m Steven. Steven Robert Hallivel.” He shakes his head in wonder. “I can’t believe it. I come to hillbilly country on a visit and meet you here. I’m a huge fan of everything you do. I might even be your biggest fan. I’ve seen both your movies, and I’m looking forward to the one you have coming out soon. Don’t be surprised if I’m the first one in the theater.”

“That’s great. It’s really nice to meet you,” I say nervously. I did not count on meeting one of Tamara’s fans here. I didn’t even know that Tamara was working on a movie. This man obviously knows more about Tamara than I do, which is a dangerous situation, to say the least.

“It sure made my year,” he says heartily.

I chuckle politely. “Yeah, I love all my fans too. Enjoy the party.” Flashing a big, fake smile, I turn around to leave

The man grabs my wrist once again and pulls me closer into him. He smells of sweat and cheap beer and it causes my gut to tighten even though I know I have nothing to fear. It’s not like he’s going to try anything in such a big crowd. He’s just an over enthusiastic fan of Tamara’s.

“Hey, what’s the rush?” he asks.

I jerk my head back. “I’m here with friends and they’re waiting for me to join them.”

He moves his mouth closer to my ear. “I’ve seen every part of you in your sex tapes,” he says, looking me up and down.

I try to pull my wrist from his iron-tight grasp, but he doesn’t budge.

He smiles and locks his gaze on my breasts. “They looked bigger on the screen, but no matter. I know you like it kinky. So do I. And that scene with that Chinese chick? Whoa! That was epic, man,” he says and groans. I can tell he’s getting turned on by his own dirty thoughts. I’m so embarrassed and humiliated that I just want to run away and hide from everybody, but he tightens his grip on my wrist. I glance around wildly to look for a means of escape.

Everyone around us is oblivious to my distress, and I’ve gone too far from Lars for him to see me. I was told to stay by his side, and I should have listened. Now I have to deal with this big pervert on my own. I take a deep breath. I didn’t come this far to allow someone like him to make me feel like a worthless slut. I’m not Tamara, and I wasn’t the star of the sex tape he watched, so I’ve nothing to be ashamed of.

“Let me go right now or I’ll scream,” I grate through clenched teeth.

His eyes flash with even more interest. “Why don’t we get out of here? I promise you I can fulfill your every fantasy.”

I realize that his alcohol-induced brain is telling him that I’m game. He is so utterly convinced that my reluctance is a prelude to sex that I might have to knee him in the nuts or something equally painful to get out of this one.

“Look, buster. I’m not interested,” I shout over the noise. If this doesn’t work, it will have to be the knee, but if at all possible, I’d like to avoid a scene.

“I know you’re interested,” he insists. “You wouldn’t have bumped into me if you weren’t.”

“It was an accident!”

“Let her go,” I hear from behind me. I’ve only ever heard this cold tone one time, and I thought then that I’d be happy never to hear it again.