Hollywood Undercover Read online

  Because of the pain tonight, he skipped his habit of doing a room-by-room inspection. It was his way of resetting his mind after the adrenalin rush of fighting a fire. He would normally walk through the place, checking every room for hazards. Twice. From the entry hall with its vaulted ceiling, he would skirt the staircase and step into the living room, through the archway to the family room, hitting every place in between until he got to the door of the kitchen to check the back porch. There were almost never any issues, but the practice would ratchet down his post-emergency, hyper-vigilant state.

  It was probably a touch of paranoia that had him placing his faith in these rituals. The truth was they got him through the tougher days. He was past wondering how weird it might seem to someone not in his line of work. De-stressing was crucial in a job like his, and so were routines. Tonight was just an unusual, but understandable exception.

  He climbed the staircase to the second floor, where four bedrooms and two bathrooms sat empty and unused, waiting for the rare guest. Usually, it was his only brother Sam who would visit from Los Angeles. He took the second set of stairs to his renovated third-floor master bedroom—probably another error in judgment, now that he was injured. He walked directly to his bathroom, and filled the deep soaker tub with steaming hot water. It was time to rid his body of the smell of soot. He shed his clothes, and when the tub was full, climbed into the water.

  His plan was to stay in for however long it took for his restless pulse to steady. Somehow, he was more on edge than usual. It was a pretty stupid move to keep going after hurting himself in that hallway. He dismissed the idea as quickly as it surfaced. He would do it again in a heartbeat. The children had come close to not surviving. They had avoided tragedy, plain and simple. Now those kids were in a hospital, receiving treatment for smoke inhalation, and were likely to be released before dawn.

  Alone with his thoughts now, Aileen was on his mind again. She had really done a number on him. He wondered whether he had been taking bigger risks on the job lately because of his disappointment with how things went down with her, or more generally, how empty his life had become. For now, he blamed it all on Aileen. It was convenient. Grimacing, he stretched out his legs and thought about the coming months. The surgery, the injury, and the recovery weren’t on his mind as much as the number of hours he expected to be bored out of his skull during this extended time off. He was already sick of being alone.

  As Sebastian shifted around, the tepid water splashed over his firm abs. He leaned forward and let more hot water fill the tub, and felt around to lift the drain plug for a minute, letting out some of the water. He settled in more comfortably now. Grabbing the washcloth, he added some soap and scrubbed himself. He rubbed his body in slow, soothing circles, taking extra time with his sore muscles on his chest and arms.

  Even in this tired physical condition, and uneasy state of mind, he felt himself quickly becoming aroused. He pictured his sweet and sexy fantasy girlfriend with him in the tub. She had been etched into his psyche since he was a teenager. She was the girl next door—literally. Alexandra Storme had never stopped invading his dreams. And that was where she would remain.

  She was mega-star Lexxi Rock now. The girl who had already been unattainable back in high school had shot up to an elusive unicorn status—magical, mystical and completely unconquerable for all eternity. It was how most celebrity rock stars became after finding fame. But at least he had her, here in his most erotic thoughts.

  He closed his eyes and pictured her blue, diamond-shaped eyes gazing lovingly into his. It was Alexandra sliding the washcloth along his abs. She kneeled between his legs, ready to pamper and please him. Her arm slid lower, getting dangerously close to his rock hard manhood. He stroked himself as her tiny hands now wrapped around his member. He pictured her lips; lips that could beat out any makeup commercial on TV. She would bite down on her perfectly lush lips, before leaning down to kiss his neck softly.

  Before long, he could see Alexandra resting her hands on his shoulders, and lifting herself to straddle him. Her hips would rock as she started grinding on his swollen bulge. She felt so real, so perfect. And when she slowly lowered her warm, wetness onto him, he could feel her clench around him. Water would splash outside the tub as he pictured her hips rising and falling to take him deeper inside each time.

  Her head would tilt back before long, and she would take his hands and press them to her sensuous breasts. They were close enough for him to caress them with his tongue. She would moan that sultry sound, bucking her hips more intensely as she finally hit her peak. That image was enough to send him reeling over the edge. He let out a groan as he came, almost blinded by the explosive climax.

  Weak from exhaustion, Sebastian relaxed his head on the back of the tub. After a few minutes, he sat up and rinsed the soap from his hands. He turned on the tap and splashed his face and head with warm water, leaving droplets on the tips of his dark brown, spiky hair. With a deep breath, he massaged the kinks out of his neck.

  The only reason he had a hard time shaking Aileen was she had him convinced. Unlike his fantasy of being with Lexxi, Aileen was the first woman he could see himself getting more serious with. Everyone before her—and there were many of them—had been just for fun. Too bad Aileen already had a future with the man she married and cheated on. When Sebastian had discovered she had a husband, he threw himself into his work, and had begun to date casually again. It killed the time, but wasn’t nearly enough anymore. Worst of all, he had gone back to his skepticism about settling down. To him, it was a natural after-effect of unknowingly dating a married woman.

  Tonight was one of those rare moments when he longed for conversation and companionship, two things not likely to be found in his contact list. He got the urge to call Aileen from time to time, just to see how she was doing. They had such a good thing going back when they were together. But in reality, she had a good thing going, while she had her cake and ate it too.

  He had ventured back out on the dating scene since he found out she was married. He was positive he didn’t need to reach out for her at a time like this. It would just be stringing her along…scratch that, it would allow her to string him along. She would get the sex, and he’d get to return to an empty house. He wasn’t going there again. Ever. Aileen was the last in a long line of failed dating mishaps, and her drama finally convinced him that something long-term was probably not in the cards for him.

  Sebastian lingered in the tub until his fingers were wrinkled and the water was beginning to feel cold. The throb in his knee had eased, so he climbed out of the water and dried off. Chest bare, he stood in front of the mirror and studied the stubble on his cheeks and jawline. He could wait to shave on his day off. He walked to his room and pulled on boxers. That’s when it sank in. Every day for the next few months would be a day off.

  Fuck.

  It was a disaster. That realization stole the rest of his energy. It was now too much work to go back downstairs to the kitchen for something to eat. He made a mental note to make the appointment with the day clinic, and walked to his bedroom window.

  He looked out on the normally quiet street—another habit, and something he saw as his contribution to the neighborhood watch. There was an ambulance outside his neighbor, Maxwell Storme’s home. He let the curtains drift closed and limped over to his bedroom, wondering what might be going on next door. If they needed help, Max or his girlfriend Rosa would have called. He had enough on his plate, so he left it alone.

  At the moment, his personal disaster was the idea of recuperating alone. It wasn’t the first time he wondered what it was about him that made it hard to hold down a woman for much longer than a few months. Sure, it was the job, for one thing. Most women he met wanted him in their beds, and many more gravitated to him because he was a firefighter. Sooner or later though, they would discover they couldn’t handle his crazy shifts, or the fact that what he did for a living was dangerous business.

  “Best to just do what we alw
ays do, Bash,” he said to himself. “Soldier on.”

  He turned on the television in his room, lowered the volume to almost zero, and climbed into bed. Again, he wondered what was going on next door, but it was late, he was tired, and news travelled fast on the close-knit street. He would find out sooner or later. He picked up his phone from the night table and searched through his contact list.

  “Tanya or Michelle?” he asked himself, debating who was more likely to be awake and ready to come over tonight.

  He went with Michelle. She gave better head.

  Less than two hours later, Sebastian was down in his living room.

  “Yeah. That’s perfect. Just like that.”

  He leaned back on the sofa, tuning out all thoughts except one—how did this woman kneeling between his legs become so good at sucking him off?

  They had been at it for an hour, and he had already had her from behind against the wall, over the side of the sofa, and with her on top. Now she wanted to taste him, she had said. The blonde bobbed her head with more enthusiasm. He wrapped his hand around the length of her ponytail and thrust harder into her mouth. Her throat tightened and relaxed around him. She didn’t slow down at all, but drove his shaft harder in and out of her mouth. The noises from her wet lips, the erotic slurping and sucking rounded out his pleasure.

  The exhaustion of the day started to weigh on him.

  “Hurry up, sexy,” he urged her on. Her hand gripped him harder and her suction increased to a level that was almost painful, but not quite. When she cupped his balls with her other hand and stroked her fingers across them, he was ready. His manhood was swollen and his balls were tight, preparing themselves to release down her throat with a force she was probably not ready for.

  His phone rang. It was definitely not work, so he ignored it. He growled when the phone rang again, but before he could look over to check the caller ID, Michelle did her special move with her tongue on his cockhead—the move that made him come every time.

  “Yes,” he growled, releasing into her mouth as she continued to suck, lick and now swallow what he had to give.

  After a few minutes, the phone rang again. This time, he saw the caller ID in time.

  Shit. It was his older brother Sam, calling from out west.

  “Want me to leave?” Michelle asked, looking up from her spot on the floor.

  “Yes. Let’s call it a night.”

  He answered the phone, but there was no one on the other end. Sebastian watched as Michelle stepped into her jeans and pulled on her shirt, covering those magnificent breasts. She licked her lips and gave him me a one-sided smile as she leaned forward to give him a friendly hug before heading out.

  He looked into his contact number to phone his brother, but as he felt the soreness return, he decided to try him in the morning.

  Now I can sleep.

  Chapter 3

  ALEXANDRA was exhausted. It was a less-than-satisfying afternoon of retail therapy. She sped up the long, white concrete driveway of her home in her cherry red Maserati sports car. Her shopping trip was less than satisfying because she spent most of the time fending off rabid paparazzo. They all prompted and probed her for a statement about Wilkes’ cheating. By now, she took it for what it was—a neatly executed media stunt by his publicity team, with extra juicy benefits for Wilkes.

  Pressing her remote garage door opener, she parked in the garage. Moments later, she pushed open the door of her Beverly Hills mansion with a sigh of relief. She was happy to be in one of the two places she didn’t have to put on a show. Truth be told, she would rather be with her father at her childhood home in Tucson. For now, this place would have to do.

  Alexandra called out to her housekeeper, Lilly. She was the only other person in the massive, empty house.

  “Did I get any calls, Lilly?” she asked.

  It wasn’t that she was hoping for Wilkes to call her back, but deep down, she was disappointed about how easily he blew her off.

  The short, older woman came in from the kitchen, balancing a glass and bottle of water on a tray. Lilly shook her head. “No, Ms. Lexxi.”

  Alexandra took the bottle and sighed out her frustration.

  Is an apology so much to ask for?

  “You’re home early,” Lilly said.

  The kind woman had a way of knowing how to cheer her up with sarcasm. She had spent the entire day shopping.

  “That’s because I couldn’t find anything I didn’t already have.” She opened the bottle for a sip.

  “Well, you do have it all, love,” Lilly added, smiling pleasantly. “I’m glad I put a casserole in the oven earlier. It’s ready now, if you’d like. Or would you prefer to wait?”

  “Just put aside a plate for me, Lilly. I’ll drum up an appetite at some point.”

  Shaking her head and voicing her disapproval with a “tsk”, Lilly nodded and strolled back to the kitchen. Alexandra smiled as she heard her housekeeper mutter something about her “needing to eat”. She didn’t mind. The woman had become more than her employee over the years.

  She climbed the stairs and walked the long hallway to her bedroom. Once inside, she went over to the center of the room and threw her body back across the massive bed. She stared up at the ceiling, wondering where things went wrong. By all accounts, she had it all, except where it mattered—on the most basic of levels. This was why she wasn’t completely happy with what others saw as her glamorous, flashy life of a rock star. It was because love hurt, and she was sick of being a casualty.

  Only four years before, she was just another girl with a guitar and a notebook full of hokey songs she would sing in coffee shops and at any open mic night that would have her. Now, she was Lexxi Rock, the world-renowned recording artist and songwriter, playing in sold-out arenas all over the world. A row of seven Grammys lined the mantel in her third floor entertainment room. There were two framed platinum albums, and numerous photos taken with her childhood music icons. Some said she was quickly becoming a legend in her own right.

  Popular rock and celebrity magazines had named her Most Prolific Female Rock Performer of the Year, and she had more than a cult following. It was the stuff of her sixteen-year-old fantasies, but she had never imagined it could really happen. At twenty-four now, sometimes she still couldn’t take it all in. Her dream of making it in the music world had come true right before her eyes. Now, she had no good reason to be a brooding, moody artist holed up at home—except for this recent Wilkes chaos.

  Back then, she was the one in her circle of artistic Tucson friends who would speak out against such ungrateful celebrities, portraying fame and fortune as hardship. It turned out she had been wrong. Everybody had their share of problems. People in the public eye were no different. She had been wrong about so, so many things, and so many people.

  Like Wilkes.

  The cold-hearted, cheating bastard.

  “Ugh!” she groaned painfully, taking a pillow and dragging it over her face.

  She didn’t bother turning on the TV. All the mainstream gossip networks were covering her breakup and Wilkes’ cheating. It was hard to believe that after more than a year of dating her, the seemingly wholesome, dreamy-eyed cowboy had the capacity to be this cruel. It wasn’t that he had cheated on her with starlet Lydia Daniels. No, that fact had its share of initial embarrassment, but what got her in the gut was he had orchestrated the breakup just for the media hype. It meant he had likely been dating her for the same reason.

  Just thinking about it made her want to throw a full-fledged tantrum, and crawl into a hole to wallow in depression and angst for a few months. Alexandra had never stooped to that level in her career or dating history. Yet here she was, with another broken heart, now that the fantasy of what she thought was a decent relationship fell apart.

  “This is ridiculous,” she huffed.

  She swiped the waves of purple hair out of her face and sat up. It was time to get over this.

  Not another evening sulking, Lexxi.

 
; If she took an objective look at what had happened, it was probably for the best. Maybe she was turning into a drama queen. Her best friend would agree.

  Grumbling at the realization, she dug around for her smartphone in the ridiculously large bag she referred to as a purse. What she needed was straight up girl talk. The only problem was her best friend was stuck in some small town, filming an upcoming movie. She had been out of touch for the past three weeks. Alexandra had tried phoning her all morning, just like she tried all of last night. Still, it didn’t hurt to try face-time with Evangeline again.

  “Please pick up,” she begged, listening to it ring.

  She gnawed at the corner of her nail, staring at the wall as she waited. Just before she gave up again, Evangeline answered.

  “Hello, darling.” She had a characteristic flare for the dramatic, and Alexandra loved it.

  She squealed with excitement at finally connecting with her best friend, whose face now filled the screen. Twenty-six-year-old Evangeline Reese was from London, England. She had a roasted chestnut brown complexion from head to toe, jet black hair, gorgeous bedroom eyes, a button nose, and plush, full lips. In a word, stunning, and was proudly every bit the diva the media had made her out to be. Her fans adored her for it.

  “Eva!” Alexandra shouted. “I’ve been trying to call you forever, you lousy phone-answerer. Where the hell is your assistant to take my calls when I need you, woman? I mean for Christ’s sake.”

  Alexandra watched as Evangeline placed her iPhone in a cradle and padded around Studio F. She was in house slippers and a red silk robe, smoking a slim cigarette.

  “Darling, it’s the heat! Oh yes, lovely. I’m in the middle of this place that’s desert on one end, and swamp on the other. I’ve got a pack of sexy-as-sin wild boys on set with me, and I am loving the view, let me tell you! But I can’t believe this sun hasn’t fried every component in this expensive piece-of-shit phone. Ahhh, who am I kidding? It’s the hottest set in the most scenic corner of the States imaginable.”