Blurring the Lines

  After we’d made love in the shower, I held her in my arms, not wanting to let go.

  “We’d better go pack,” she said quietly after a few minutes of silence. I nodded, not wanting to make this any harder for her because she was obviously struggling with the fact that she had feelings for me. I could see how torn she was inside, and her internal conflict made my heart ache. “Ashton, when we get home…” she trailed off, looking at her feet as she wrapped the towel around herself.

  “Yeah, I know, you don’t need to say it,” I said honestly. I could tell by her face what she was going to say, and that was fine, she needed time after what she’d been through.

  She looked up at me, her eyes full of sorrow. “Okay good. Let’s go pack then, we need to leave in an hour or so, right?” she replied, changing the subject.

  “Yeah we need to be at the boat in an hour and twenty minutes,” I confirmed, looking at my watch. She turned her back on me and walked out of the bathroom. Once I was alone, I closed my eyes and prayed with all my heart that she was strong enough to let herself love me. I’d wait as long as it took.

  Chapter Nine

  ~ Anna ~

  I felt slightly awkward after the talk, or I should really call it the ‘non-talk’ because he knew what I was going to say before I opened my mouth. Frankly, I was grateful, because saying the words would have felt like cutting my heart out. We fell back into the usual friendly routine pretty easily as we packed and joked around and he seemed to snap his business head back on as soon as we stepped out of the villa with our luggage. He was making sure I was close to his side and moving me so I was half a step behind him. The chilled and relaxed version of the bodyguard was completely gone now. I missed him already.

  The flight was good. Long, but good. After hours and hours of doing nothing on a plane, we finally touched down. The stewardess came up to us immediately. “Excuse me, sir, I have Dean Michaels on the phone for you,” she said to Ashton, leaning closer to him than necessary and putting her hand on his shoulder. I tried my hardest not to get jealous, but I just couldn’t help it.

  “Stay right there, Anna,” he instructed, looking at me sternly. I fought a smile; he really was sexy when he was all bossy like that. I nodded and he hurried off to the front wall of the plane, not taking his eyes from me once as he spoke quietly on the phone. He pulled out his cell from his pocket and looked at it, frowning. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he looked worried and slightly annoyed. After a minute or so he came over to me, his eyes tight with stress. “Right, Baby Girl, there are some reporters waiting for us just outside arrivals. Apparently, the paparazzi found out where we were staying, and somehow they’ve gotten hold of some photos of us on the beach,” he explained, watching me as if I was about to go into meltdown.

  “Okay, and?” I prompted, waiting for him to continue. There had to be more, this wasn’t enough for him to look this troubled.

  He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. “They know about the names we booked in under, and there have been a couple of stories in the papers today about our secret wedding,” he stated uncomfortably. “I’m sorry we’ve only just found out but my cell’s not working,” he said apologetically.

  I gulped as every hair on my body stood on end. My mind was whirling a mile a minute. The air in the cabin seemed to be getting thicker as I looked at Ashton with wide eyes. “Why would they even print that? It’s not true! They can’t print stuff that’s not true!”

  He sighed and cupped my cheek gently. “I don’t know, Anna. They’re paid to sell papers, that’s all. Everything’s fine. We’ll get all of this sorted out. All we need to do is show them we’re not wearing wedding rings,” he smiled reassuringly as he took my hand. “Dean and Peter are meeting us at the gate. Our bags will be collected after, so all we need to do is get to the car. Apparently there are a lot of reporters.”

  I nodded in acknowledgment, trying not to worry as he led me out of the plane. As soon as we stepped out of the exit tunnel and into the arrivals lounge, Dean and Peter strutted over to us quickly. Both of them were wearing a professional black suit and white shirt, and looked every inch of secret service agents.

  “Hey, happy new year,” I greeted, forcing a smile.

  “Happy new year,” they both replied.

  Then it was down to business. They both looked to Ashton for guidance. Although they took a couple of steps away from me, I could still hear them planning. My name was mentioned a couple of times, but I tuned them out and looked out over the runway, watching the planes line up and taxi along the tarmac as I tried not to panic.

  After a minute or two, Ashton’s hand closed over mine, squeezing gently. “Okay, we’re ready to go. The reporters are just outside the lounge so we have to walk past them to get to the car out front. You stay with me. I’ve called in Airport security; they’re going to walk us to the car too. If there are any problems, then you go with Dean,” he ordered in his stern SWAT voice.

  I smiled and nodded as six burly security guys stepped through the side door, they walked over and Ashton relayed the plan again before nodding for one of them to open the double exit doors.

  As soon as the door opened, all I could see was flashing lights. People were shouting our names from all directions. It was almost deafening. Ashton’s arm snaked around my waist tightly. “Everything’s fine,” he whispered. As one, the airport security, my two far guards, and Ashton and I took a few steps out of the door. I tried to smile, but the thirty or so cameras and reporters were overwhelming. Some of them were even on stepladders and chairs so that they could get a better shot.

  My mouth went dry as Ashton smiled down at me reassuringly. It all went quiet for about two seconds and then the questions started all at once, people shouting louder and louder, trying to be heard over the din. The questions were all jumbled into one, but were all essentially the same. “Were we married? What was the ceremony like? What designer did I wear? Were we going to sell the photos? What did my father think?” It was endless.

  Ashton held up one hand and they all stopped talking immediately. “Anna and I aren’t married. We went on vacation, that’s all. We changed her name to get a little privacy. It was a private joke between the two of us, this is all a misunderstanding,” he said calmly. People immediately started shouting questions at the same time so all we could hear was a buzz of noise. He held up his hand again. “Look, we’ll answer some questions, I guess, but you need to go one at a time,” he suggested, laughing.

  “You’re not married?” one reporter shouted quickly.

  I shook my head. “Nah, he’s too pretty for me,” I joked, trying to sound blasé when all I wanted to do was run. I didn’t like this confrontation. I didn’t like people assuming I was married, even if it was to Ashton. Marriage was a serious sore spot for me. The freedom that I’d felt over the last two weeks as Annabelle Taylor was now long gone.

  “Why did you book the vacation under the name of Mr and Mrs Taylor?” another reporter asked.

  Ashton shrugged. “We were just fooling around; it was a private joke which we don’t really want to explain. Nothing was meant by it, so please don’t read anything into it,” he answered. He was so calm; this didn’t scare him at all.

  “Are you two expecting a baby?”

  I gasped at the question. “What? No!” I cried, shocked. Ashton laughed wickedly and kissed the side of my head affectionately.

  “You’re not pregnant and you’re not married?” someone clarified.

  Ashton shook his head. “No baby, no wedding. Sorry guys, this is all just a misunderstanding,” he stated easily.

  “How was your vacation?”

  I looked at Ashton, signalling for him to answer. I wasn’t nearly as cool and collected as he was, in fact, I could feel the sweat breaking out on my forehead because of the pressure. “Fantastic. Shame to be back,” he answered, tracing his hand up my back softly.

  “Do you think you two will get married? Ashton, do you want to m
arry Anna?” one guy shouted.

  Ashton laughed and looked at the reporters. “Who asked that?” A guy that looked to be in his mid-thirties raised his hand. Ashton grinned at him wickedly. “Well look at her, wouldn’t you want to marry her if she was your girl?” he replied, grinning. All of the reporters laughed as I gasped and elbowed him in the ribs in reprimand. Thankfully, at that moment Dean walked up, standing in front of us as he motioned for us to start walking again, signalling that question time was over. Ashton’s arm snaked around my waist again immediately as we were marched to the exit. Reporters ran alongside us, cameras snapped and they shouted last questions, but airport security and Peter held them back as Dean led us along quickly.

  As we slid into the back of the waiting car, I blew out a big breath. “Damn, that was a lot of people!”

  Both Dean and Peter slipped into the front seconds later, and as we pulled out of the space, Dean twisted in his seat. “Want to see these?” he asked, holding out three tabloid newspapers.

  I nodded and took them off him. We were on the front page of each one: ‘Annaton Secret Marriage And Baby Shocker’ and ‘First Daughter Elopes’ and ‘Shotgun Wedding Shock’ were plastered across the papers.

  “This is just stupid!” I huffed, scanning over the first one. They were basing everything on the fact that we had booked our hotel and plane tickets in the name of Taylor. I looked over the photos that they had of us. There were a few different ones: us lying on the beach drinking cocktails, us swimming in the sea and playing around, Ashton rubbing sun cream onto my stomach whilst kissing my shoulder. There was even one of me lying on top of him on the sand; he had his hands on my derrière as we laughed about something.

  They all seemed to be taken on the same day because I was wearing my red bikini and had my hair tied up. “Was this yesterday?” I asked, looking at Ashton.

  He nodded. “Yeah, I think so,” he agreed. A smile broke out on his face. “Nice photo,” he added, pointing to the one of his hands on my butt.

  “Yeah, way to get us in trouble, Pretty Boy,” I teased.

  He shrugged unashamedly. “You shouldn’t have such a nice ass, maybe then I’d be able to keep my hands off it.”

  I rolled my eyes. “How did they get these photos anyway? I didn’t see any photographers.”

  Ashton shook his head, frowning, and looking quite annoyed about it. “There weren’t any. They must have had a boat or something with a long lens camera. Reporters and photographers aren’t allowed on the resort.”

  I silently sent up thanks that they hadn’t managed to get any photos of us in our villa, or even worse, doing naughty things in the sea. A blush spread across my face at the thought of those kind of pictures being in the papers. I turned to the next page to read what they had written about us.

  Clearly, they still adored us as a couple. They speculated that I was pregnant, which was the reason for the young marriage. As evidence of me being ‘with child’, they reprinted the picture of Ashton rubbing sun cream on my stomach, pointing out how he was ‘caressing it lovingly’.

  I ground my teeth in annoyance. “Jeez, I know I’ve put on a couple of pounds in the last couple of months, but pregnant?” I grumbled.

  Ashton burst out laughing. “Don’t start with that! You don’t have an ounce of fat on you,” he chimed in, shaking his head, chuckling. I closed the paper, not wanting to read anymore.

  When we finally arrived home, Ashton and the far guards were talking and planning in the kitchen, so I strutted into the bedroom and over to the full length mirror that hung on the wall. I lifted my top, turning to the side, squinting and trying to see why they had printed that I was pregnant. Since Ashton had stopped me running like a crazy person I’d put on a few pounds, but I hadn’t thought it was noticeable.

  The door clicked open behind me, but I wasn’t fast enough in pulling my shirt down before Ashton groaned loudly. “Anna, be serious! You don’t look pregnant. You’re perfect and beautiful and girls would kill to have a body like yours,” he scolded, looking slightly annoyed.

  I sighed, defeated. “Well, where the hell did it come from then?”

  Before I knew what happened, my feet were knocked out from under me as he pulled me into his arms. I squealed and threw my arms around his neck as he carried me bridal style over to the bed, sitting on the edge and settling me in his lap.

  “People make stuff up in the papers everyday. It’s probably our age; pregnancy is a reason some people get married young. They’re just clutching at straws. That photo probably just added fuel to the fire. If I’d been rubbing cream on your back or shoulders then they might not have even printed it. Trust me, you are just perfect, I promise,” he vowed, kissing my nose.

  I sighed and tightened my arms around his neck breathing him in. “This will all die down, won’t it? All of this attention.”

  He rubbed my back gently, soothing me. “I’m sure it will after a few weeks,” he replied, his voice soft and tender. I pressed myself closer to him and tried desperately to ignore the way my body was reacting to the contact with him. “You tired?” he asked, as I failed in stifling a large yawn. I nodded and glanced over to the clock, noting it was almost midnight. “Let’s go to bed then,” he suggested, helping me off his lap. “I’ll be right back.” He headed out of the room to check the doors, the same as he did every night. I grabbed a pair of pyjamas and headed to the bathroom to change and wash my face.

  Once I’d changed, I stopped short with my hand on the door handle. Ashton was probably waiting in bed for me. Tonight was going to be hard because we had to get back some semblance of normal. But, however hard it would be, it needed to be done. I needed to at least try and limit the damage he would do to my heart when he left.

  After taking a couple of deep breaths, I tugged the door open and forced a smile. I was right. He was sitting up in the bed, his chest bare. Oh God, please let him be wearing shorts or I’m done for!

  He watched me as I walked over to the bed. “Hey,” he smiled.

  “Hey,” I replied as I climbed in next to him. When he didn’t make any moves to come to me, I scooted closer to him. His arm immediately lifted and pushed under my neck, hugging me to him tightly. I sighed contentedly as I snuggled against him, loving how our bodies fitted together as if they were designed that way. Ashton kissed the top of my head softly, sending a wave of desire through me that made my whole body ache. Over the last two weeks, we had barely made it a few hours without making love; the physical contact was going to be a hard habit to break. I bit my lip and closed my eyes tightly, praying for sleep to take me quickly because the desire for him was almost too much to bear.

  Within a week of being home, the attention surrounding us started to die down. The press had finally realised that we weren’t married or expecting a baby, so they started to lose interest a little. Well, only a little, because we were still plastered all over the papers and magazines. The girlie magazines in particular liked to feature Ashton, he’d clearly woven his spell over them too because he’d actually been voted torso of the week in one magazine. He actually seemed pretty proud of himself when he saw that.

  School was awkward again for a couple of days, but even people there were getting used to who we were again.

  Today though, we had something different to worry about, other than just what magazines we would be featured in. Today was the day that Ashton was going with his friends to use his driving day experience. That was if I could calm him down from his latest panic attack about leaving me in someone else’s care.

  “You sure you can’t come with me?” he asked, shooting me the begging eyes that usually made me melt inside.

  I forced a smile. We’d been going over and over this all week long and he still didn’t like the idea of it. “I don’t want to go. Besides, you’ll have a better time without me being there. You’ll be able to relax with your friends and not have to work all the time. I’ve got Cohen here now, and Dean’s moving into the other bedroom,” I assured
him.

  He groaned and set his head on my shoulder. “I hate this,” he mumbled.

  I giggled at his overprotectiveness. “Look, just chill out. Nothing’s gonna happen. You go have fun with your friends and enjoy your Christmas present, okay? If you need to, then you can call me,” I suggested, wrapping my arm around his shoulder and stroking the back of his hair.

  He looked up and his pained eyes met mine. “But what about the lawyer guy? You sure you can’t reschedule him coming over so I could be here for that?”

  I sighed. The prosecution lawyer for Carter’s case had called and was in town this weekend. He wanted to talk to me and go over a few things in case I was actually called up to give evidence at Carter’s retrial. This was the only weekend that he had free to see me before then, and Ashton knew that too.

  “I told you, this is the only time he has before the trial. I can’t reschedule.” I frowned, actually wanting to give in and just go with Ashton or let him stay here with me like he was trying so hard to convince me on. I didn’t want to see the lawyer guy again on my own. A deep frown lined Ashton’s forehead and I reached out, smoothing it away with my thumb. “Careful, wrinkles,” I joked. “Just go, I’ll be fine.”

  “You’ll call me and let me know what he says?”

  I nodded in agreement. “Promise.”

  His heavy sigh blew across my cheek. I could see his internal struggle brewing in his eyes. “Be safe this weekend. If you go anywhere, then stay with Dean. No doing anything stupid like going off without a guard, okay?”

  Without answering, I cupped his face in my hands, leant in, and kissed him. The heat of his lips felt like he’d set me on fire. I’d avoided kissing him whenever possible this week because it just reminded me how good it would be with him. He kissed me back, moaning in the back of his throat as the kiss deepened. My hands tangled in the back of his hair, pulling him closer to me and showing him how much I was going to miss him as our tongues tangled together.