My fork makes a dull thud as I drop it into the empty plastic resealable container it was delivered in. I sigh and stare down at the bowl in disbelief as my stomach growls in protest. That wasn’t a meal! It roars at me angrily.

I don’t disagree.

The studio has generously paid for me to have healthy meals delivered to my house so I don’t need to measure food or count calories. Just like the trainer, the acting coach and the bodyguards, they have been treating me like royalty, all on their dime.

That is, if you starve royalty, force them to exercise until they vomit and have a couple of men who follow them around, that drop like flies the first time they actually need to fight.

I look over at my clock and get up, plucking the evidence of my unsatisfying lunch from the table, I stuff the container and fork in the dishwasher and realize that Gabe will be here any minute. It’s not like someone is going to buzz me to announce his presence at my gate. I scan my modern, open, ranch-style bungalow. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve done well to buy this new build in Mar Vista. It’s a beautiful house with a nice in-ground pool and I’m in a safe neighborhood, but this isn’t exactly West Hollywood. No TMZ bus tours are going to be stopping at the end of my driveway for a chance to catch a glimpse of an A-list celebrity.

I rush into my master bathroom and brush my teeth. I don’t want any of my mixed greens salad stuck in them when Gabe shows up. I open my lips and look at my pearly whites just to make sure I’m good and then reapply my pink lipstick. I know I’m primping and worrying too much. I’m offering him a job, not a date. Yet, just the idea stirs something powerful inside me, making me feel fluttery and nervous. I mean, it’s not like I’d be opposed to a date …

“Okay, focus,” I lock eyes on myself in the mirror and take a deep breath like I’m doing one of the twisted up pretzel moves from my yoga class.

Ding-dong.

My eyes grow wide and I jump a little. That’s him.

It’s got to be.

“Chill Vanessa,” I pat my fingers over my tied up hair and twist my body to the side, giving myself a once-over before I head out.

Bang-bang-bang! I hear a brusque knock at the door as I make my way over to it.

“Coming!” I yell out in a sing-song voice that reminds me of my mother’s weird ability to answer the phone is an eerie falsetto, no matter what was going on in our home. Her children could literally be slaying each other and she’d still manage to answer our telephone with a vibrant and bright, “Hello!”

I cringe at the idea that I’m waking up every morning just twenty-four hours closer to becoming my mother but push the thought from my mind as my hand circles my door knob and pulls it toward me, revealing him.

My God, he’s every bit as sexy as I thought, except, even more so because I’m not drinking and not nervous to be in a sex club. I let my eyes wander his frame shamelessly even as I step to the side and offer for him to come inside.

Is it weird that saying the words “come inside,” two completely innocent words on their own, suddenly make me blush furiously? If it isn’t, I’m not sure why I’m suddenly acting like I’ve never let a man step into my house before. I keep stepping my feet up too high when I walk, like a cat with paper shoes attached to its feet, as I repeatedly tuck my hair behind my ears like somehow, somewhere, a tendril escaped in the last ten seconds.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Gabe moves his head from side to side, scanning the room. Although I can’t see exactly what he’s looking at since his aviator sunglasses are shielding his eyes.

“Thanks,” I smile and close the door behind him. “I saved money from every role I’ve had, so I could get a house. I grew up in an apartment as a kid, so I really had this thing about a backyard of my own,” I admit.

“Every role? I thought you said you weren’t an actress?” I can see his eyebrows knit together in confusion over the brim of his sunglasses.

“No, I just said I’ve lived here a while. I’m just like every other chick in LA. An actress. But, I’ve done enough movies now that I don’t need to do the jaded waitress thing anymore,” I echo his words from last night.

“Ahh, okay then. In any big movies? I’m not up on all the new films, I stick to the older stuff I guess.” He tilts his head at me.

“Yeah, I’ve been in a few hits, but not in a leading role. I’m always the smart-ass sidekick or the funny friend, I mean until now. Come on into the living room, let’s…” I almost said, ‘get comfortable’ but I bite my tongue and rethink my words. I don’t want to lead him on, into thinking this is a date. I mean, if I’m honest, part of me wants this to be a date that never ends, but that’s not going to happen and I know it. “Let’s go sit down and talk,” I finally finish my thought.

“Yeah, okay, so this is for you,” he hands me the bottle of bubbly that he was casually hiding behind his leg and I gasp when I see the label. It’s a bottle of Dom Perignon. He must have spent at least two-hundred dollars on this!

“Oh, you really didn’t have to do that,” I stammer and wave my hand at him.

“No, I insist. I figured you might want to actually enjoy some later, either in a glass or, you know, off me,” his full lips twitch up into a smirk and my entire body feels like it’s blushing.

“Thank you,” my voice is tight. The image of him in his transparent underwear, dripping with champagne sends a wave of scorching heat over my skin as my pussy clenches tight with desire.

“No, thank you,” he answers, hot on my heels as I walk into the living room. “I just wish those two assholes’ hadn’t interrupted us last night, I was having a lot of fun getting to know you.” Gabe sits down on the white leather couch next to me. Luckily it feels cool, helping me get the heat radiating from my body under control.

“I really enjoyed it too,” I lick my lip and put the bottle down on the coffee table in front of us. “So, about those guys, sorry I had to run off like I did when you guys all got into it. I had to get out of there though. The men you fought are my bodyguards. Were my bodyguards,” I correct myself.

“Oh really? Shit,” he folds his arms over his chest and leans back.

“Yeah, they came to tell me that the paparazzi had tracked me down and I needed to get going,” I explain.

“I thought you said you haven’t had any big parts? Why is the paparazzi following you?”

“I just accepted my first lead. It’s a huge role, the studio is already putting a lot into building buzz and the filming hasn’t even started yet. It’s probably going to have at least a sequel too, maybe even be a trilogy,” I gush excitedly. “Anyway, they hired those bodyguards for me, probably more as a publicity stunt than anything, I think they wanted people to notice that I had them with me so they’d think I’m important and ask me questions about the movie. But I fired them after last night because they’re useless.”

“I don’t disagree,” Gabe answers and finally removes his sunglasses. I pause for a moment and get lost in his beautiful blue eyes, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I also notice the scar tissue around his eye too. It’s deeper and more profound than I could see in the club last night with raised tissue rippling back to his scalp and disappearing into his light brown hair. The prominent semi-circle forms a mountain ridge around his left eye, speaking to horrors he’s lived through and come out the other side stronger from. I don’t find the scar takes anything away from how hot-as-sin he is. I could get lost in his bright blues all day and never even care about the scar.

I bite my lip and make myself stop staring like a love-struck school girl. I swallow hard and manage to get my thoughts back on track even as he watches me so closely. “I would really like if you would be my bodyguard instead,” I look down at the bottle of Dom and then up to him, wondering if he’s going to take this as an insult. I mean, I don’t even know if he already has a job, he evaded the question when I asked him last night. “If you’re available, of course, I understand if you can’t or don’t want to,” I begin to overexplain.

“You want me to … work for you?” I can see a flash in his eyes and I can’t tell what it means.

“Well, technically you’d be working for the studio to keep me safe, I guess,” I feel silly saying the words. I don’t think of myself as someone who needs protection, yet it’s in my contract so I need to find someone to fill the position.

“So, you want someone to show up in the morning and follow you around all day while you make the movie?” He frowns and his voice sounds tense.

“No, not exactly,” my lips tug down as I look to my hands nervously. He doesn’t seem to like the idea at all.

“Well, what then?”

“I would need you to live here with me.”