Carter
I’M HIDING IN the shadows of the hotel’s courtyard, unsure what to do next and trying to understand Tori’s appeal.
I’ve done some stupid shit in my life.
Kissing Tori was not one of them.
Not telling her who I am before I kissed her, however? Dumbest shit yet.
Let me explain.
When I was twelve, I told my parents I wanted to be an actor. They smiled and shipped me off to a summer talent camp in Upstate New York, figuring the combination of being away from home for six weeks and attending nothing but acting workshops would cure me of my pie-in-the-sky dreams. Contrary to their plan, I returned from camp with a four-year action plan for achieving my career goal.
One of the workshops at the camp focused on emotions and how to make them believable in a scene. The teacher’s point was simple: If a scene calls for a specific emotion, the actor should draw on personal experiences to bring that emotion to life. It’s a fundamental technique for people who practice method acting, and those who apply it well are said to have “emotional range.”
Years later, I auditioned for a made-for-television movie pitched as a dark and sexy thriller about a rookie detective whose objectivity is compromised by his growing obsession with a key witness. Unfortunately, my audition, like my parents’ plan to steer me away from acting, was a bust. The actress and I had zero chemistry, and I couldn’t conjure a single emotion to mimic the state of being consumed by someone. At the time, not even acting had consumed me in the way the role demanded. I simply had no frame of reference.
Well, I have one now—after the kiss.
Don’t misunderstand me, I’m no stranger to lust, but what just happened between Tori and me falls outside my range of experience. The minute her lips touched mine, I wanted from her what I’d never wanted from anyone else: anything and everything she was willing to give me. And it’s freaking me the fuck out.
I’ve been in the business since I was sixteen. Aside from my family, most of the people I interact with daily know me only as actor Carter Stone. I have plenty of acquaintances but few friends—by design.
Julian’s my best friend for many reasons, but chief among them is that I trust my relationship with him isn’t about what I can do for him. He knew me well before I became Carter Stone, and although he does a kick-ass job as my agent, he does it grudgingly, not because he hates it but precisely because he doesn’t want to blur the lines.
And now there’s Tori. She has no agenda. Yes, it’s because she doesn’t know who I am, but the effect is still the same. For the first time in my adult life, a woman I’m attracted to wants to hang out simply because she enjoys being with me.
It’s a heady experience, and I want more of it. But I can’t explore my feelings for Tori if she doesn’t know I’m Carter Stone. See? I’m screwed.
So I’m going to be smart about this and tell her who I am. That’s what I should have done from the beginning. I’ll explain that I was wary of introducing myself as Carter Stone because I’m supposed to be incognito for the duration of this trip. I’ll explain that I hadn’t anticipated going any further than enjoying her company while I was here. I’ll explain that I want to explore our friendship and figure out if we could have more.
Still, I suspect I’m going to need a shitload of luck to get her to understand why I concealed such an important aspect of my life.
I plod back to the restaurant bar and survey the area. My heart slows when I realize Tori’s no longer there. But then a flash of yellow whirs past a few tables, and I spot Tori ducking into the ladies’ room. I relax my tense shoulders and claim a stool at the bar, angling my body in the direction of the restroom entrance.
A middle-aged man wearing a navy blazer and jeans drops into the stool next to mine, blocking the view of Tori I’d hoped to have when she reappears.
He greets me with a nod and raises his finger to get the bartender’s attention.
Damon ambles over. “Hey, Carter. Need anything?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
While the man orders, my phone pings, alerting me to a text. It’s from Jewel.
Hey, Carter. Received a strange call today. I accidentally mentioned you’re still in Aruba. Maybe it’s nothing but . . . give me a ring when you’re free.
I’ll call her in the morning. Right now, my mind is focused on making things right with Tori.
Damon sets a beer bottle in front of the guy.
“This is a great place, isn’t it?” the man beside me asks.
“Yeah.”
“You here for some R & R?”
I turn and give him a once-over. “Yeah, something like that.”
I’m not in the mood to talk to anyone except Tori, but this guy doesn’t appear to be going anywhere soon.
He eyes me over the rim of his bottle. “That’s quite a beard you’ve got there.”
I laugh at his observation. It’s a pain in the ass, and I want it gone yesterday. “That’s putting it kindly, I’d say.”
He leans into me, and I rear back. Is this guy making a move on me?
“You don’t like it?” he asks as he wiggles his brows.
“I like it fine. It just takes a little getting used to.” My monotone voice should give him an indication that I don’t want to be bothered, but he continues to stare at me. He reminds me of Skeevy. “Look, I’m not trying to be rude, but I’m waiting for someone, and I don’t want to be distracted by”—I point a finger between us—“whatever this is.”
He takes a swig of his beer and sets the bottle on the counter. He again leans in close. “I’m going to be up-front with you. I know you’re Carter Stone.”
Shit. My jaw clenches. What the hell is the point of the beard if it doesn’t keep a slimeball like this one away from me? “Listen, I’m not sure who you think I am, but I’m sorry to disappoint you. I’m no one.”
“No ones don’t have someone else change their hotel reservations at a moment’s notice.”
Well, there’s no big mystery there: My freaking driver ratted me out. And Jewel mistakenly confirmed I was here.
“We can make this easy,” the guy continues. “Or you can make this hard. I’m just trying to make a little money for my family, okay? Just one pic and I’ll be out of your hair.”
“This is ridiculous,” I say through gritted teeth. “You’re harassing me.”
A pop of yellow registers in my peripheral vision, alerting me that Tori’s headed over. My stomach knots, and I blow out a few breaths to calm my nerves. Do not hit the guy, Carter. Do not hit the guy. “C’mon, man, give me a break here. How about you come back another day? This shit isn’t cool.”
“Have it your way,” the guy says.
Then he pulls out a professional camera and snaps a photo, but I cover my face to mar his shot.
“Give me one shot, Mr. Stone, and I’ll be out of your hair. What’s the harm?”
Dammit, I can’t think straight, but I know I don’t want Tori to find out about me like this. Unfortunately, this is an instance when I’m not going to get what I want.