Lumberjacked Read online

  I got to the hotel in time to order dinner for my room, on Anthony’s dime of course, and ate it in front of the TV.

  The first ad Axel ever did came on a few times during the news hour. In it, he laughed with his friends while some stern male voice talked about erectile dysfunction.

  He still got royalties coming in from it every time it aired, but that didn’t stop the family from ribbing him every time we saw him. I mean, come on, it was a job, but did you really want yours to be the face of limp dick syndrome? He had to expect the laughter from us brothers.

  Just after nine, I was reading through a good spy thriller on my Kindle when my phone buzzed. I ignored it, but it was persistent, so I picked it up to see a stream of texts from Anthony.

  Basically, he was begging me to come out with him. He had somebody he wanted me to meet, and he’d pay me ten grand of Axel’s money if I’d just give it a chance.

  If I didn’t need the money, I would have told him to stick it up his ass right then and there, but ten grand was one step closer to paying off the back taxes.

  And it wasn’t like I was stealing it from Axel; the fucker owed me.

  I agreed to meet him, he sent a car to make it all real easy for me. I found the two of them immediately, and just to stick it to him and the ad exec we were meeting, I ordered the most expensive scotch I could think of before abandoning the two of them at the bar and standing in the corner and watching the crowd.

  I finished my drink and decided for the hundredth time that hour that I was going home, to Alaska. I couldn’t stand the frenetic movements of the people in the club, the bass-heavy music throbbing against my ear drums, and the stink of all those bodies sweating desperation and trying to cover it up with thousand-dollar perfumes.

  I longed for the quiet of my cabin, sipping a good drink by the fireplace on a chilly winter’s night, snowflakes falling fat and soft outside, and the hush of the silence in my head.

  All I needed in my life was a good book, a good drink, and ultimately, a good woman. That’s it.

  Well, that and the money to get the family business back, but we’d hit that bridge when we got there.

  I was about to walk back to the bar to tell Anthony and the TV exec to forget about it when a cute little thing hooked her hand in my arm and mumbled something about showing me to her friend.

  Then she giggled and said I was being lumberjacked.

  That seemed to strike a cord with her, and she giggled until she pulled me toward this incredible blonde sitting by herself against the wall, looking bored and cranky.

  My perfect woman, including the cranky part. I had kind of a thing for feisty girls, and this girl almost shone with electricity like a little fire cracker.

  Everybody else in the club fell away, and she sat there in my vision as if at the end of a tunnel.

  Her sparkling blue eyes locked onto my green ones. She smiled, and I barely heard the conversation between her and her friend. The drunk friend let me go, and I sat on the bench next to the leggy blonde and took a long, hard look at her.

  She was like a drink of water to a man in the desert—she was real in a town that valued the fake over anything else, and her smile could light up the darkest night in Alaska.

  Yeah, roll your eyes, but damn, I had it bad from the moment I met her.

  Reagan, like the president, she told me. I gave her my name and got lost in her eyes until I heard her pitch.

  My hardening cock twitched as my eyes fell to the swell of her breasts, but my brain screamed “retreat” when she mentioned her idea.

  Another fucking TV show, another pitch to keep me stuck in LA, and another phony asshole trying to lure me in and trap me in this god-forsaken city.

  I had to get out before I did something stupid like sign on a dotted line for her project. Her face fell as I walked away, and I fought the urge to turn back and take one last look at her.

  Fuck, she was beautiful. Her image would be burned into my mind and keep me warm through more than a couple cold Alaskan nights.

  But beyond that, she had to be treated like she was dangerous. She was just another TV exec in an ocean of them, and I couldn’t let them overwhelm me, or I’d drown.

  I needed the simple life. I needed home.

  “Where the hell were you?” Anthony asked as I approached them at the bar. The exec he’d wanted me to meet had his face twisted in irritation.

  “Looking around. I need to go.”

  They looked at me like I was a big, dumb, lumberjack, so I might as well play the part.

  “Roger has some paperwork he wants you to look over,” Anthony said, his smile not coming anywhere near his eyes.

  “I’ll look them over and get back to you,” I said, snatching the manila folder off the bar. “I think I ate a bad oyster or something, I really gotta go.”

  I took one long look back at Reagan on my way out. She was staring at me with a hungry look on her face. My cock twitched again, and I felt the urge to drag her out of there, take her back to my hotel room, and bury myself deep inside of her.

  God, I wanted to fuck her.

  But she was the enemy and represented everything I hated. She was part of the industry that had used my brother and turned him to drugs.

  I turned away, took a deep breath, and stepped outside.

  I was going home soon, and no amount of perfect pussy was going to keep me in LA.

  But damn, she was beautiful.

  3

  REAGAN

  I reached for the rock-hard abs of the man in front of me. He had just done a sexy little dance for me, stripping off each item of his clothing one by one. I was almost drooling as I ran my hand across each ridge and groove, marveling that his body was so warm in spite of looking like it was carved from stone.

  I looked up and saw his dark, hooded eyes and black beard, contrasting against the fiery spark in those eyes. I moaned and slid my tongue from his belly button down his treasure trail to where my hand gripped his thick, luscious cock. I trailed my kisses along the shaft and heard his sound of pleasure, a deep timbre, a groan of sexual excitement.

  I closed my eyes and felt him kiss my cheek, run his tongue over it with his warm, wet tongue.

  Alarm bells went off in my head, and I snapped my eyes open, waking up alone in my own bed.

  Well, not entirely alone. Tiger was busily licking my cheek, letting me know he was hungry, and I was sleeping past his breakfast.

  “Jesus, dog, can’t I sleep in a little?” I grumbled, pulling the covers over my head to remember the amazing dream I’d just been having.

  Something about rock-hard abs, a thick…you know…and a beard? Damn, a beard! Lumberjack beard. New TV show. I had to get up and get in touch with Anthony Wexman sooner rather than later.

  I flipped the comforter back, startling Tiger in the process. He gave a little yelp and shot me a look that would probably have killed me if he didn’t need me to feed him.

  “I’m sorry, little dude, but you might have saved my tush. Extra canned beefy delight for you later!”

  He responded to the tone of my voice and jumped up, his little jowls stretching into a smile as he panted at me.

  “Come on!” I called as I slid into my slippers. “We’ve got work to do.”

  He jumped off the bed and scampered around me, his nails clicking on the marble floors of my penthouse apartment. I laughed at his clowning, gave him his breakfast, and texted the concierge to come and take him for a walk.

  I’m going to be completely straight here, as much as I bitched about it, being Pavel Black’s daughter did have its perks, and I took full advantage of them.

  And don’t judge me, you’d do it too if you could. I’d be stupid not to. Besides, I like to think we’re keeping the building concierge staff in a job.

  So it was back to work the moment Tiger left with Carlos. I grabbed my phone and flipped through my contacts until I found Anthony’s number to give him a call. This was too important for a text.

 
He answered on the fourth ring.

  “Who the hell calls anymore?” Shit, he sounded annoyed.

  “Tony, you old bastard, what’s shaking?” I made myself sound light and airy, covering the desperation in my voice.

  “Reagan, is that you? I wasn’t sure I could trust my call display. What’s this about?”

  “What, does there have to be a reason with you now?” I tried to joke as if we were old friends.

  He barked a short laugh. “With you? Yes. So spit it out, I haven’t got all day.”

  “I saw you with a lumberjack last night at Lynx.”

  “Aaron? Oh god, yeah, isn’t he just divine?”

  “He is, and I need him.”

  “Oh honey, need him? Haven’t you heard of Doubler? It’s an app where you can swipe for men, it’s basically sex on speed dial.”

  I reddened at the implication that I would need Doubler. But of course I did, everyone knew I’d gotten the short end of the stick in my last break up. My ex had been dating some barely legal pop star within a week of the split.

  “I know, but I’m talking business here. I need him for a show.”

  “I don’t think he has any pets,” Anthony snickered.

  “You know, that one was cut after that fiasco. I’ll never do anything with any pets again, celebrity or otherwise.”

  “I know, I’m just pulling your leg. Barking up your tree. So what’s the project?”

  “It’s new,” I said, “I don’t have all the details yet.”

  “So brand-new.”

  “Oh yeah, so brand-new I hadn’t even thought of it until I saw your client last night.”

  “Then you might as well toss it in the scrap heap, he’s off to Alaska tonight.”

  “What?” I spat, startled, “Can’t you stop him?”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Tell him you have work. Tell him who I am, that I get things done in this town.”

  “That’s his biggest problem, he doesn’t give two fucks about LA. He’s hell-bent on getting home.”

  “Why was he here in the first place?”

  “His brother is messed up and in rehab. Stole money off Aaron and his family, too, they’re going to lose their business.”

  “How much do they need?” I asked, my plan taking shape in my head as soon as Anthony mentioned it.

  “Too much, really, at least a hundred grand or so.”

  “Let me have his number, I’m going to talk him into this.”

  “Can’t do that, you know it’s against my policy. I’ll send him a message to call you, but that’s all you’re gonna get from me.”

  “At least let me know when and where he’s leaving from.”

  Anthony sighed and said, “LAX tonight, Alaskan Air flight M3216. It leaves from Gate 312 at 5.”

  “Thanks a bunch, you’re a peach.”

  “Don’t thank me, just promise me one thing.”

  “Sure, what’s that?”

  “You make sure I get my cut if you sign him.”

  I laughed and agreed, hung up, and loved this town for the blunt honestly of its people. Money did talk, and only in LA did it speak so loud and clear.

  I waited until Carlos brought Tiger back from his walk and hopped in the shower. I couldn’t help myself, the image from my dream floated through my head as I soaped myself down. Those abs, that…you-know-what…I wondered how close to real life it was. But it couldn’t be. I mean, nobody was that perfectly sculpted in the real world—and I’d grown up in LA, I knew these things.

  My dream was beyond impossible. No man could feel like that, make me feel like that…and yet I still had hope.

  * * *

  Melanie parked her car and I jumped out to grab a parking ticket for the dashboard.

  “Twenty-eight dollars for one hour?” she shrieked when I showed her the receipt.

  “You know how it is, airports love to gouge us suckers,” I said with my brow arched. “It’s like I don’t know you anymore, you seem surprised by this. Where’s my cynical bestie?”

  “I’m still my cynical self,” she assured me with a grin. “I just can’t believe how blatant it is sometimes. Why don’t they just jump out and hold a gun to our heads?”

  “Too much work,” I replied sardonically. “They prefer to make their money while sitting on their ever-widening rear ends.”

  She laughed at the image and followed me through the maze of hallways and passages to get to the main terminal. I managed to follow the signs to security closest to Gate 312 and scanned the waiting passengers for my lumberjack.

  “Oh pooh, it doesn’t seem like he’s here,” Melanie said, blowing a long strand of dark hair off her forehead in a puff of breath.

  “Dammit, this is where Anthony said he’d be.”

  I craned my neck and looked up and down the lineup, but didn’t see him anywhere.

  “Ooh, ten o’clock, look sharp,” Melanie exhaled, and I whipped around to find Aaron striding through the airport like Paul Freaking Bunyan.

  A sexier version, of course. He was tall, taller than I’d remembered, and broad-shouldered. He had confidence in his stride, and his lips were curled into a lopsided smile as he winked at a group of passing nuns. They burst into nervous laughter, and he chuckled to himself as they made their way to another part of the airport.

  I stood dumbly, my mouth half hanging open as I admired the way his body moved, the way his muscles rippled, even under the dress shirt and jeans he was wearing.

  I thought about my dream and had the sudden urge to run over to him and rip his shirt open just to find out if there really was a man who could feel like that.

  Instead I stepped out carefully and caught his eye. He stopped, looked me up and down, and gave me a slow, lazy smile.

  “Now isn’t this a treat, have you come to see me off?” he asked with a little smirk.

  “I’ve come to make you an offer you can’t refuse,” I said. “I have a show I need you for.”

  “Listen, sweetheart,” he said in a deep, rumbling voice. “Unless you’re here to offer me a quick sendoff BJ in the bathroom, I’m not interested.”

  He picked up his bag and stepped around me, leaving me red-faced and flustered. I shook it off and chased after him.

  “No, I’m not here for that. I’m here to talk to you about a show we’re going to make, one that’s completely centered around you. How would you like that?”

  He stopped abruptly, and I came to a skittering halt. I looked up at him expectantly, and he let out a sound that was more of a growl. “Are you fucking kidding me? That’s the last thing on the planet I’d be interested in.”

  He turned and kept walking towards the security checkpoint. I followed him, and Melanie trailed behind me. He stood at the back of the line, and I chewed on my lower lip as I tried to figure out what I was going to do.

  “Tell him about the money,” Melanie hissed in my ear from behind me.

  “We’re willing to pay you fifty thousand dollars,” I blurted to Aaron, hoping to get his attention. I knew he needed more than that, but I’d only been able to get my father to approve fifty grand. At least it was something.

  “Not interested, lady, I’m leaving LA and never coming back,” he said in that growly, low voice again.

  It struck something inside of me—his voice hit just the right note, and I shivered with pleasure. Melanie snickered, and I turned to glare at her. She smirked though, my attraction to Aaron amusing her at least.

  But it pissed me off. I had to focus on getting him to sign on the dotted line and show up when we started filming. “Listen, we’ll film in your location. We’ll bring the show to you.”

  The line moved slowly, and I realized that people all around us were suddenly paying close attention, listening intently as tried to convince him to become the next best thing in reality television.

  Aaron finally reached the point where he would split off into the secure part of the airport, where we couldn’t follow him. I felt my
heart sink as he walked through the metal detector, let the TSA agent run the wand up and down his sexy-as-hell body, and put his bag through the x-ray.

  “You can’t let him go, where the hell else are you going to find the perfect guy?” Melanie hissed, gripping my arm so hard her nails dug in.

  I shot her a dirty look, and she broke into a wide grin. “For the show, I mean, not for you, Miss City Girl. You two would be like oil and water, he’d die down here with no trees to chop and you’d die up there with mud on your Louboutins.”

  “I wasn’t even going there,” I said, and we both knew I was lying. Of course I was fantasizing about life with that gorgeous hunk of a man, but the need for a new show to save my career was a little more pressing.

  I didn’t have anything else I could do, nothing I was good at anyways. I’d always considered being an artist, but my father’s laughter at my attempts to sculpt in our garden shed when I was a kid still rung in my ears.

  I wasn’t good at art, I wasn’t good at business, and I certainly wasn’t the kind of woman who would be good at staying home and making dinners for her husband. I could barely heat up leftover Chinese takeout.

  My father had always said the only thing I could do that would make him proud was producing.

  So a producer I was, and I knew I was good at it.

  Aaron would make me better, though, so as he picked up his bag off the x-ray conveyor and shrugged into his beat-up leather jacket, I let desperation get the best of me.

  “A hundred grand!” I yelled, waving my hand. “I’ll make it a hundred grand, enough to save your family business!”

  I didn’t think he heard me. He took a step, and then another, and I muttered, “Dammit,” under my breath.

  But he stopped, slowly turned around, and glowered at me.

  “How much did you say?” he asked reluctantly.

  “A hundred grand. It’s all yours once filming is done.” Little did he know that the studio had only authorized me to go up to fifty. I’d deal with that when I got to it, though, I’d do whatever it took to get him on this show. He was perfect for it, and of course it didn’t hurt that he made my insides flip-flop and go all warm and liquidy.