On the Edge

  Blue preferred to watch her hair swing free across her cheek or over his chest. “Why? Because I’ve seen you talking with Lyle? And here I thought my sister was the leak.”

  “I told you he’d come.” The bartender loaded drinks on a tray near Maddy.

  Blue ignored him. “Is Lyle asking about me?”

  “No. He asked if we had a decent Chardonnay.” She leaned in and smelled his breath. “You’ve been drinking. That’s not like you.” She touched his shoulder, platonically, when what he wanted was a touch trembling with heat.

  He didn’t believe the gossip columnist wasn’t asking about him. Lyle Lincoln. Holy hell. How could he be so naïve? He knew better than to trust anyone with a secret in L.A. He’d given her Dave’s footage of him in tights. And yet, this was straight-shooting Maddy. He bit back his fears. “How do you know what I’m like?”

  She propped one hand on her hip.

  Oh, yeah. She knew more than a little about what he was like.

  Inside, he was having a wrestling match with betrayal. He was too used to being pinned to trust completely. Outside, he managed a repentant smile. “Would it help if I apologized and said I had a shit day?”

  “As your producer, yes.” She gave him a look that was all business. “Paul, call him a cab.”

  “Paul, don’t call me a cab. In fact, I’ll have a bourbon on the rocks.” He shrugged when she raised an eyebrow. “Kaya and Jenny showed up at my business dinner.”

  “The pressure’s getting to you,” she said, rubbing his shoulder this time. “You need to go home and go to bed. Everything will be better tomorrow, I promise.”

  “My dad used to say shit like that,” he murmured as she walked away with a tray of drinks. His gaze tracked her as if she had a homing beacon and he was working radar.

  “You’re not a stalker, are you?” the bartender asked, setting a bourbon in front of him.

  “No. I’m the subject of her reality show. And I’m not drunk, either.” Blue took a healthy swig of bourbon.

  The bartender put out a small bowl of pistachios. “It’s bad ju-ju to sleep with someone you’re working with.”

  “We don’t get a paycheck from the same employer.” Blue selected a shell and cracked it.

  “Well, in that case, party on, dude. She’s one hot mama.”

  White blond hair swung into his vision. “Oh, my God. You’re Blue Rule.” The woman was tiny, with too perfect breasts and a too perfect nose. She’d been engineered by the finest plastic surgeon. “I’m a huge fan.”

  “Thanks.” Although Blue wasn’t sure what he was thanking her for.

  She laughed and that was too perfect, too. Calculated. No real emotion. “Can I buy you a drink? I bet you need one. I saw your billboard.” She slid onto a stool next to him and ordered a dirty martini.

  The bartender gave Blue a dirty look.

  “It’s promo for a new reality show.” Blue stuck to his story, watching Maddy in the mirror as she made her rounds.

  Blondie leaned into his space, brushing her shoulder against his. “I’m Kiki. I sing backup for the Blake Project. We’re in town for the jazz festival. Three days and three lonely, late nights.”

  It was a come-on, a cut to the chase, I’m available attack. She was exactly the kind of woman Blue had found attractive a few months ago – beautiful, adventurous, and looking for a good time. He felt no interest. Not even an extra pulse in his package.

  “Sorry, Kiki. I’m seeing someone.”

  Her smile never dimmed. “It doesn’t hurt to ask. I’ll be out on the patio after our show the next few nights if you change your mind.” She took her drink and slid off the bar stool.

  “Friend of yours?” Maddy asked, a serrated edge to her voice when she returned to pick up another tray of drinks.

  He ran a finger beneath the cuffed sleeve of her blouse. “Just asking for directions.”

  “To your house?”

  He leaned in close until their foreheads were touching and he could smell her flowery perfume. “I don’t give out directions to my house.”

  Maddy’s smile was strained. “I know. You blindfolded me with a tie when we left this morning.”

  Guilty as charged. “What did you pawn to get your camera out of hock?”

  “My…” She shook her head.

  He swallowed back his disappointment. “Don’t you trust me, Maddy?”

  “No.”

  “That’s a shame, because I trust you.”

  Her look of disbelief wasn’t meant to hurt, but Blue felt bruised nonetheless.

  Chapter 25

  When Maddy returned to the bar, Blue was gone.

  No deep voice made unjust accusations. No delicious eye candy was propped on the bar. Just soft lighting, soft music, and an empty bar stool.

  She couldn’t stop herself from looking for the blonde who’d propositioned him, but that woman was still sitting in the corner with her bandmates. No Blue.

  That was it. He was finished with Maddy, the bed-buddy. A heavy sensation of loss caught at her limbs, tried to pull her down. She had to stay afloat and cling to the business aspect of their relationship.

  Paul handed her a folded napkin.

  “What’s this?”

  “The subject of your reality show said to give it to you.” Paul held a bottle of tequila in his other hand.

  Maddy unfolded the napkin, revealing a set of car keys and an address. To Blue’s house. He trusted her with this when not even his siblings knew where he lived? This was bigger than the film he’d entrusted her with earlier. She hadn’t believed Blue when he said he trusted her.

  Another night of fantastic sex beckoned. Her heart pounded with joy. Her temples pounded with warning. “Shoot.”

  A familiar feeling swept through her, warm as a summer’s breeze. She refused to name it. It made her tremble. It made her want to dance. It made her want to sit down and review all her bad relationships.

  A bad idea, Producer Maddy thought.

  Thank God, Hopeful Maddy thought.

  “He doesn’t love me,” she said to Paul. “Love is a myth.”

  Paul rolled his eyes. “Tell that to my wife.”

  And then she read the scribbled note at the bottom of the napkin: Tell me what you pawned and I’ll tell you my biggest fear.

  He trusted her. He trusted her with his secrets. Love was built on trust.

  Love.

  “I called him a cab. Am I pouring tequila or not?”

  “No.” Maddy wanted to reject the feeling. She had to reject it. “I’m filming him.”

  “Girl, those sex tapes are bad news.”

  “Funny, Paul. This is a reality pilot I’m shooting.” This morning a blindfold. Tonight his address and car keys? What had changed between last night and tonight? The Avengers had unmasked him and then stalked him at dinner. But why would that matter?

  Because it’s love.

  Maddy sagged onto the bar. “No.”

  “Maddy, he turned down that blonde efficiently, as if she was soliciting for the girl scouts, not the night patrol. He said he was in a relationship. He earned my respect.” Paul set a shot glass on the counter. “Am I pouring? Your shift is almost over.”

  “And how long will my shift with him be? Another night? A week?” Her heart wasn’t built for short, intense love. Maddy looked out the French doors toward the blonde who’d propositioned Blue. “I’d have to constantly compete.” She didn’t have the fashion sense or the physical equipment to be a contender.

  It doesn’t matter. It’s love.

  Maddy pressed a hand to her forehead, trying to silence whatever part of her was talking foolishness.

  “Consider this your mini-vacation, much deserved.” Paul waved the tequila bottle again. “Am I pouring?”

  “No.” She had her career to think of.

  But how would the vulnerable Blue feel if she didn’t show up? His fragile ego would take a hit. She didn’t want him to show up for filming in the morning without his con
fident swagger. She scrunched her eyes shut. What a ridiculous excuse to sleep with him.

  Not if you love him.

  “Maddy, Blue Rule opportunities don’t knock on your door often. You can do anything short-term. It’s like a hall pass. It’s like going to Vegas. It’s like – ”

  “I get it, Paul.” She couldn’t fight it any longer. Love swirled in her veins and sang in her ears. “Give me a shot.” Because rides like this were short, high, and inevitably came crashing down.

  “Atta, girl. Now, let’s close out some of these tabs so you can get out to Mulholland Drive.”

  “You read my note?”

  Paul grinned. “Yeah, but I have a bad memory.”

  Blue drank beer out on his back patio. The night air was hot and sultry. The moon peeked through the mixture of high fog and smog rolling in.

  She wasn’t coming.

  It was nearly one o’clock. Maddy’s bar closed at midnight. He’d taken a risk, having only slept with her once. He’d bet that trust meant something to her.

  She wasn’t coming.

  His chest felt like Ulani had body-slammed him. His pride was injured. Wounded pride and waiting sent a man’s mind into overdrive. Thinking about his empty bed. Thinking about how pathetic he was. Thinking about what he’d say to her in the morning when they started filming. Would he play it like it was no big deal? Kiss an apology out of her? Or dump her?

  He so did not want to dump her.

  Footsteps sounded behind him.

  She’d come.

  Blue’s heart pounded. His erection was instantaneous. “I wasn’t going to wait much longer.”

  “Liar.” She dropped her purse on the tile, hitched up her skirt and straddled him on his lounge chair. Her hips fit over his perfectly.

  “If you hadn’t shown up in ten more minutes I was going to drive by your apartment and throw pebbles at your window.”

  She ran her fingers through his hair, brushed her thumbs over his forehead, soothing him with her touch. “You don’t even know which window is mine.”

  “I might have had to throw a lot of pebbles at a lot of windows. But someone would have given you up.”

  “More likely they’d give you up to the cops.” Maddy leaned in and nibbled on his ear. “There was an accident on the highway. It was backed up for miles.” Her hair brushed his face, bringing with it the familiar smell of flowers. “It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s me.”

  Her admission effectively silenced him. He didn’t do pillow-talk discussions.

  But she didn’t seem to expect him to engage. “I pawned my grandfather’s photo albums. He was an Army photographer in World War II. And when I was a kid, he was my rock.”

  She’d gambled a treasure on him. Blue was humbled. He kissed her tenderly. “I hope I’m worth the risk.”

  “Me, too.”

  She was his kind of hot, but he wasn’t interested in letting her take the lead. He planted a hand on her butt and squeezed. “I suppose you want something along the lines of the missionary position? Something Senge would label repressed?”

  “And I suppose you have something more creative in mind?” She arched an eyebrow at him.

  If she’d noticed he’d unbuttoned her blouse, she kept quiet. He spread the sides apart, exposing her to the air, to him. “When it comes to you, Maddy, I’m at my most creative.”

  She sighed as his hands cupped her breasts. Sighed again as his hands slid behind her to unhook her white bra. “I don’t suppose you have any champagne left.”

  “No tequila either.” He didn’t want her to blame this on alcohol.

  He freed her breasts by lifting her bra over her head until it was banded behind her neck. She was a tangle of clothing – bra straps and shirt sleeves circling her arms, skirt hitched high on her legs. But her breasts were free and demanded his attention.

  “You’re so beautiful.” He suckled one breast.

  Maddy speared her fingers through his hair. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  “Don’t. Baby, don’t joke.” He cupped her chin. “I mean it. You’re beautiful.”

  She had the most wondrous look on her face, as if she couldn’t decide if she was going to laugh or cry. She did neither. She kissed him deeply, an urgent rhythm that simulated his thrusts when he was inside her. She rocked against him, moaning.

  He wanted her to moan louder, to shout out her pleasure. He wanted to sheath himself in her heat and make some noise himself.

  His hand dropped to her bare thigh, following the curve upward to… “You’re going commando?” Nice, girl-next-door, Maddy?

  He almost came in his pants.

  She framed his face with her hands. “I took my panties off when I was stuck in traffic. Just the thought of you waiting…” Her voice trailed off when he slid his finger inside her. She clenched, cried out, clenched again, and drenched him in her juices. She was still cradling his face, staring into his eyes in wonder.

  “God, Maddy. I wish I had handcuffs to chain you to my bed.”

  She laughed as she unzipped his pants, and frantically helped him with one of the condoms he’d put on the table. With one thrust, he was inside, reveling in her most intimate embrace. He reached for her breasts again, but she grabbed his hands and propelled them over his head, as if he was the one being handcuffed. Again, Blue almost exploded.

  “You promised me a Freedom Transformation.” Her voice was husky, wanton.

  She held his wrists in place with one hand, riding him leisurely. With her free hand, she encircled the base of his penis with her thumb and forefinger. With each downward stroke, the pressure on the base of his penis was magnified. With each upward stroke, Maddy arched and slid her clit against her hand and wrist.

  Eyes half closed, hair in disarray, breasts full and free. She was magnificent.

  Her leisurely pace didn’t last long. They were both craving urgency. Her hold on his wrists loosened. He reached around and grabbed the straps of her bra at her back, supporting her in a deeper arch as he thrust harder and deeper and he entered a zone where one touch, one word from Maddy would make him shatter.

  Maddy bucked. He jerked. Their voices blended into a crescending aria as they came together.

  He couldn’t move. Couldn’t let Maddy go.

  Deep inside of her, Blue pulsed and twitched, hungry for more.

  Fuck being fuck-buddies. He was going to have to date her. He wasn’t sure what that meant for a man like him, but he wanted to find out. “You drive me nuts, Maddy.”

  She rolled her hips forward, convulsing around him once more. “If this is how you perform on shitty days, I want you to call me when you have a stellar day.”

  Sex with Blue was everything his exes had promised.

  In his arms, Maddy felt as if she could conquer the world. She felt precious and loved and cherished. She never wanted to leave. Love, budding and fragile, was singing ballads in her heart.

  This was bad. Very, very bad. Avenger prediction-type bad.

  She couldn’t tell him how she felt. He’d run quicker than Usain Bolt for the nearest exit. He was Blue Rule. Leaving women was what he did best.

  They’d made love twice since she’d driven his car here. It was time to redirect and establish space, before she blurted some hint of her feelings and ruined everything.

  Maddy turned in Blue’s arms. His face was illuminated by moonlight streaming through his bedroom window, handsome even in shadow. “Which Dooley Foundation platform will you use for Jenny?” They were scheduled to film Blue coaching her later that morning.

  His arms tensed almost imperceptibly. “You’re familiar with all my father’s life-changing themes. What do you think she needs?”

  “As the show’s producer, I can’t say.” She started to draw back, but he tugged her closer.

  “Is this a test?”

  “No.” Yes. He hadn’t used the Rules at the Freedom Transformation until she’d started him out. She knew he’d been winging it the entire time.
She couldn’t help him a second time.

  “I’m asking your opinion.” His voice was as silky smooth and compelling as his touch on her thigh.

  She had to hold onto her dreams. Sleeping with him, loving him, those were compromises. But the compromises ended when it came to production. She couldn’t interfere or set-up what she filmed. Vera was right. For a woman who didn’t gamble, she’d let the stakes get too high.

  She chose her words carefully. “Do you think that when a man goes overboard on Deadliest Catch a cameraman throws out a life preserver? Do you think that when one of those Real Housewives starts a catfight the producer steps in to break things up? I can’t tell you what I think.”

  His hand stilled. “You mean you won’t.”

  She was in his embrace, but they felt like mannequins left in an intimate pose. Threatened, love barricaded itself deep in her chest, as if that would protect Maddy’s heart.

  “I owe you a confession about my biggest fear.” Blue traced circles on her arm. “My father had a huge Elvis complex. He loved women. But as soon as they got pregnant he lost interest, just like Elvis did with his women. Did you know that Amber, Cora and I are almost exactly a year apart in age?”

  She longed for a camera to record every word, even as she reveled in being his confidante. “That’s a little disturbing.” Especially when she worshipped Dooley’s philosophies.

  “Dad was married three times in just under four years.” He spoke slowly, hurt dragging his words. “Couldn’t manage that today, even with a pre-nup.”

  “Did he ever get married again?”

  “No.”

  “More kids?”

  In his crate in the corner, Mr. Jiggles yawned.

  Blue kissed her beneath her chin. “He had a string of lovers. And when I say a string, it was a very long string. We were never told about any other kids. But sometimes I wonder. We saw him maybe three or four days a month and not always on weekends.”

  Blue was a man with a veneer of confidence, but beneath he was vulnerable – about the Rules, about his image, about his father. Suddenly, it all made sense.

  Gently, she pushed him back, and lay on top of him. “You think you’re like him.” And he didn’t like it.