Author’s Note: Right, so here is another short story. Well, some people may laugh when I say “short” because it is seventeen pages long on my word processor, but the fact of the matter is, it’s not a novel and there will be NO more chapters to this story… so it’s a short story. Rated for, well, a sexual scene, but if any of you have read my short stories, well then most of the time it’s expected, isn’t it? This one is not sad or bittersweet. It’s just fluff like all my others. As for Tears of Blood readers, I may be suffering from a mild case of I-don’t-want-to-write-my-story so I am plying you with short stories in hopes I don’t get yelled at, but I WILL finish that story, don’t worry about that. Anywho, Please read and review my story, but also enjoy it!

Hollywood Fairytale

            Life as a public relations director is hectic, but I’m used to hectic. Chaotic, disordered, frenzied, messy; all of these words could describe an average day of an elementary school substitute teacher. Kids throwing paper airplanes, pinching or biting other kids, throwing temper tantrums, using cuss words, wailing over a scraped knee and oh, here’s one of my personal favourite nightmares, picking their nose and chasing other children with the bugger on their outstretched finger.

            So right, hectic… bring it on. People wonder how I could have gone through such a transition in careers. I mean, how often does an average, run-of-the-mill teacher hop on a plane and start ordering around the stars from Tinsel Town a.k.a. Hollywood? Everyone thinks Hollywood is this great, modern-day, fairytale kingdom. Boy, are they ever wrong. Fairytales don’t exist in Hollywood. Tinsel Town can be downright dark and depressing at times, it’s why so many people are hooked on Zantac.

            People’s dreams are crushed, they are used, married for money and unless you are somebody big with crowds of fans, then you are nobody. It was my job to turn those no bodies into some bodies. Either way, I went from teaching bratty, snotty children in a private school to helping make their narcissistic, egocentric parents richer and more famous. To tell you the truth, it’s not so different from teaching.

            At school, you keep the kids busy. If they are busy, they won’t get bored and into mischief. Actors and actresses are older, that means mischief for them often results in them going to court or getting arrested. So I keep them busy. I have them booked for talk shows, radio shows, appearances at concerts and the occasional book signing. Apparently anyone can write a book these days. In the evening, there are galas, premieres, must-attend parties, award shows and etc. Even these I can deal with, but it’s the after parties that are killer.

            It’s like letting the kids go out to recess. You warn them to behave themselves and keep their hands to themselves or else. If the kids didn’t follow the rules, they’d have detentions. If actors didn’t follow the rules, they’d be defending themselves against drug related charges or assault. But the one important thing you teach kids is to treat others the way you wish to be treated.

            With stars, you only get this treatment when the camera is rolling or the press is around. Otherwise, most of them are too far gone to understand this concept. Many of the actresses treated me as the help. A little minion who would scurry around her to keep her face plastered on billboards, magazine covers, and newspapers. The actors treated me like a nag. I was someone who forced them up at ungodly hours, heaven forbid they wake up before noon, someone who counted their every drink and scolded them for touching an under-aged girl.
            Alright, I must make this clear. Not all actors and actresses are like this. Most of them are, in their own way, almost normal. They aren’t all disagreeable, bitchy and self-absorbed. However, the ones I get settled down with normally are. See, Jared, my boss, noticed that I was really good with the fussy actors and actresses. The ones who thought they were divas and the actors who thought all women worshipped the ground they walked on. I would simply try different tactics and go with the one that worked. It’s something I learned from being a teacher. With a class of about thirty children, you need to find out who the rowdy students are and how to settle them down fast.

            And how has this ability come back to bite me in the ass? Simple, now I am in charge of the Black Files. These are the actors and actresses that are every PR director’s nightmare. Think about that one snot-nosed kid in the neighborhood who went through dozens and dozens of babysitters. If someone babysat them once, they would never think about doing it again. They’d sooner book themselves into a mental asylum than go back to baby-sit that Hell demon bent on destruction for a paltry ten bucks. Yes, those are the kind of people I get, the Hell demons.

            There was Jessica Marsh. She was a brilliant actress. She won an endless number of awards. She always got the character down to a T. She was like Play-Doh, moldable so she could play any part. She would spend six months before shooting the film in complete character so she could be realistic on the silver screen.

            While she was my nightmare, she was working on a movie And Then There Was One. It was about a fictional female psychopathic killer. I recall waking up at one in the morning to find her standing above my bed with scissors in her hands. Her character really liked cutting people up. She called it “research”.  She’s dead now though. She was doing “research” for a movie about a recovering drug abuser and overdosed.

            Oh and then there was Callum Edwards. Now, Callum was a great man to work with. He was easy going and listened to everything I said. That man was going places. Then why was he on the Black Files? Because of Manny. He wasn’t an actor. He was Callum’s brother. Always went wherever his big brother went. Which meant in order to keep Callum out of trashy tabloids, we had to watch his brother as well. I can’t even count how many fifteen year old girls I had to pry out of his clutches. Callum finally sent Manny home and another PR director is now handling him.

            So now one must wonder, who is my current nightmare? He was supposed to meet me in my office before lunch, the office I barely use since I am, more often than not, chasing down my AWOL actor or begging the police not to arrest my actress. Anyhow he’s two hours late. I normally give them three hours and if they aren’t where they are supposed to be… I hunt them down. But this actor is normally punctual. He normally does what I tell him to do without a qualm, too. And no, he doesn’t have a brother Manny chasing after girls in training bras either.

            So why is Kiernan Maitland on the Black Files? Just because most of the PR people are afraid of him. In most of his movies, he plays the villain and he is really, really good at that. He has the ability to stop you in your tracks and make your blood run cold with a single look. Indeed I believe those were the very words of a bank robber who aborted his robbery attempt when he became victim to the ‘Maitland stare’.

            Not that Kiernan always plays the villain. He was the good guy in a couple of flicks too. Yes there was the one where he was a Scottish warlord, who with the aid of a handful of his trustworthy men, slaughtered English opponents and saved his clan. There was also Avenging Angel where his six year old daughter, Angel was killed because she witnessed a mob hit. Kiernan goes in with his Uzi and methodically kills every last man, or woman, who was tied in with the mob.

            Mostly Kiernan sticks to horror movies. I normally try to watch the movies of my clients. They have a tendency of asking me about their work, whether because of uncertainty of their talent or just the need to hear someone flatter them. Either way, I couldn’t watch most of Kiernan’s work. I’m still trying to stop the nightmares from the one movie of his I did have the misfortune of seeing.

            He has never asked though. I only really talk when I have to tell him his schedules and other things he ought to know and he only really talks to me when there are conflicts in his schedule or other things he thinks I ought to know. Otherwise we are often at the same show, same party, same event, but doing different things. I keep an eye on him of course, but I never have to tell him that he should start drinking water instead of liquor or that maybe he should consider leaving now. He does it all on his own. He may not talk to me or really acknowledge my presence, but I know he is always aware that I am there.

            He’s not condescending where he doesn’t acknowledge me because he believes I am beneath him and I cannot say in all honesty that he ignores me. Sometimes I swear I can feel his gaze on my back, but when I turn around, he isn’t watching me. Curse all actors, but I often wonder if he does stare at me or if it is simply a case of an overactive imagination.

            His first name means ‘little dark one’ and it suits him except for the ‘little’ part. Kiernan is six-foot-four and has a muscular body, but not to the point where he had to have his clothes custom tailored to fit over his biceps or quads. He was strong and male. He could easily break an arm or snap a wrist, but his strength was toned down and he didn’t come close to resembling those big, bulky men who attended those weight lifting competitions.

            His hair was… five points to whoever guesses it… yes, it was black. He had glorious, thick jet hair that made one want to run their hands through it. His facial features were often described harsh, yet it was attractive in a primitive way. His full, supple lips hinted at gentleness lurking beneath the surface, but that was overshadowed by his molten grey eyes. One couldn’t imitate the ‘Maitland stare’ because those grey eyes were a big part of it.

            At times, I will admit I find it unnerving to stare into those eyes. There is always some unknown emotion there, but veiled so you can’t identify it, just be aware of its presence. I sometimes wonder if he purposely looks at me with those eyes to see if I will be frightened away. I’ve watched him with others and he doesn’t look at them like that. Not in the same way. However, from watching the trailers of his movies, I knew that he could drain away all emotion from his eyes, leaving them cold, vast and empty and that was just downright terrifying.

            I continued to wait and still, he decided to not show up. I picked up my phone and dialed Jared’s number and then haggled with his secretary. It didn’t matter if Jared was busy or not, anyone who wanted to talk with him had to haggle with his secretary. She was an ancient old crone. Mean, I know, but no other words described Loretta better. I think she lived for the haggling so I played my part. Five minutes later, I was talking to Jared.

            “Maitland has gone AWOL,” I informed him.

            There was silence. “Shit… Madilyn, he can’t miss the charity gala tomorrow.”

            “You think I don’t know that?” When one is a PR director, they live and breathe off the life of the client. Literally because if the client is ruined, so is the PR director. So having someone ask a question like Jared’s question can make one just a little irritated. Jared knew that so he apologized profusely.

            “You are right, stupid comment. Of course you know that, but you also know what you have to do,” Jared bluntly added.

            I sighed. “Hunt him down.”

            “That’s my girl. There hasn’t been an actor yet that you haven’t been able to track down,” he said and then added, “Funny, a little slip of a woman like you, hunting down a man known for his countless murders, brutal rapes and endless torture techniques.”

            “That’s all up on the silver screen,” I reminded.

            Jared laughed. “I hope for your sake that he doesn’t ‘research’ his characters like that Jessica Marsh--” I shuddered as he chuckled “—woman. Happy hunting!”

            “Evil,” I muttered, but he had already hung up. Did I mention that the bosses of PR directors are often sadistic? But I had more important things to do than ponder Jared’s twisted pleasures. I had less than forty-eight hours to find Kiernan and get him back here. He could be anywhere in the world at this moment, literally. First things first, I had to call his personal pilot and make sure Kiernan didn’t fly to Bermuda or Tokyo or anywhere else where I would have to follow him.

            After spending all day trying to track him, I had to rush home, put on a dress, put on make-up, do something with my hair and rush back out for a date that I couldn’t get out of. I didn’t know him very well. We had been set up by my friend, Annabelle, who persisted I spent too much time worrying about my client’s life and not enough time living mine. I can say that my date was not very impressed with me.

            I stayed for barely twenty-minutes when one of my sources called me back with a lead on Kiernan. I resisted the urge to run out of the restaurant and said an apology and goodbye to my date. Shit… what was his name? Well, his name wasn’t important. I rushed back to my apartment and got my copies of Kiernan’s keys.

            Since most of my clients have a habit of O.D.-ing or going AWOL, Jared decided to ask for the keys of all their houses. Push comes to shove, I could walk into their house and yell at them if they wouldn’t pick up the phone or let me in. I made another call and told Jared to make sure the company plane was gassed and ready to soar.

            That tricky, conniving, sneaky bastard! He had taken a train—a normal, run-of-the-mill train that ordinary, mundane people took—and left for his home halfway up a mountain in Colorado. I would have to fly to the base of the mountain and drive up. I hesitated before leaving and grabbed a map of Colorado. Why did I have on hand? I have a map of every state, the Canadian provinces and even some small countries that my clients tend to frequent. It pays to be prepared. The flight was only about an hour or two, but night had fallen.

            It would only make the drive up the mountain more difficult. Not to mention scary. Had I mentioned earlier that the movie I had watched had been about a woman, played by Jennifer Lopez, stuck in a mountain with a serial rapist turned murderer? I thought about staying in a nice cozy inn for the night, but time was ticking away so I got into the rental car that Jared assured me would be waiting for me and began the drive up the mountain that was probably scenic in daylight and just a frightening mass of shifting shadows at night.

            After two detours, four wrongs turns and an endless amount of time regretting having not stayed in that inn, I passed the turnoff for his house twice before I found it and winded up the driveway. The house was actually a huge chalet with a good portion of it made with glass walls and ceilings. The lights were all off which made it look cold and intimidating.

            I parked in front and hurried up the front steps. It was much colder here, probably because I was halfway up a mountain. I still only wore a light jacket over the dress I had worn to that sad excuse for a date. I began going through the keys. I could recognize some of them, but tried all of the ones I didn’t recognize in the keyhole. When none of those work, I started over again going through all the keys.

            It was cold enough to see my breath and I was dressed for a night out in Hollywood. I cursed the man and the keys as I started over again. Surely one of these keys had to fit! I couldn’t just stand outside freezing to death at night, vulnerable to anything or anyone looking for mischief. A scene in Kiernan’s movie flashed through my mind. Jennifer Lopez had been struggling to open the door while Kiernan crept up behind her with a gleaming scimitar in his hand.

            “None of those keys will fit,” a familiar voice stated. It washed over me like velvet on skin, but I still jumped and let out a startled shriek. Okay, it was more of a scream as I whirled around to look for Kiernan and the scimitar. “No, this way,” he drawled. I picked up on something different in his voice, but didn’t think about it overly much.

            I turned back to the house and looked up to find him leaning out of a window grinning down at me, shirtless. It was then I realized why he sounded different. It was there in his grin. I’m not sure why, but the only thing you need to see to figure out if a man is drunk is his grin. There is a more boyish quality to it.

            “Seems kind of like a backwards scene from Romeo and Juliet. With me hanging out of a window instead of a balcony and you traveling oh so far just to find me,” he mocked. His eyes were so bright; they were almost glowing orbs in the dark night and I was going to get a crick in my neck if I continued to crane my neck to stare at him.

            “If none of these keys will open the door are you going to let me in or watch me freeze to my death?” I asked.

            The impertinent man shrugged. “I didn’t tell you to come out here. If I did, I probably would have told you to wear more than a slip of black spandex.”

            His sadistic smirks and Jennifer Lopez’s anguished screams evaporated out of my head. I had paid a hand and a foot for this dress and it was a Vera Wang. Hardly just any slip of spandex. It’s wasn’t even made out of spandex, rather a silky material. Hell, it was a provocative dress that could have easily passed as lingerie or a sexy nightgown.

            Calling upon my best teacher voice, I ordered, “Kiernan Maitland, you come down here and open this door right now!” He didn’t look at all inclined to do as I ordered. In fact, he decided to test out the ‘Maitland stare’. “I’m not afraid of you so kept gawking and open the door.”

            “You’re shaking,” he had the gall to point out.

            “I’m contracting hypothermia!” I gritted through my teeth.

            He let out an exaggerated sigh. “Well, fine. I suppose I should let you in. It would be bad publicity if my PR director turned up dead on my doorstep. But then again, any publicity is good publicity. Isn’t that what you people always say?”

            “I haven’t said that before, Maitland. Open the door.”

            “Yes ma’am,” he replied meekly which automatically made me suspicious and disappeared back into the house.

            A full two minutes later, the door opened and Kiernan ushered me in. He offered to take my jacket, but I shook my head. First of all, I was still cold. The inside of his chalet wasn’t much warmer than outside. Second of all, Kiernan and I have always been on business terms. It would kind of be awkward if I sat around wearing something resembling lingerie and he wore… Oh dear God.

            He was clad in a blanket. Yes, the blanket he had wrapped around himself was riding low on his hips, but other than that he appeared naked. He clutched the blanket to prevent it from falling with one hand and held a nearly empty bottle of alcohol in the other. Well, it seemed staying on business terms went flying out the window. I was well aware that my face was heated and probably had turned fifteen different shades of red by now.

            He closed the door and noticed my embarrassment and questioned, “What’s wrong?” I gave the blanket a very pointed look before returning my gaze to the wall behind him. “Oh, are you cold? Do you want it?”

            He whipped it off dramatically revealing himself in all his glory before I could shout out my protest. Not that I looked. I refused to look. In fact, I childishly screwed my eyes shut. I know that in Hollywood naked is no longer a shocking aspect. Call me modest, but I don’t believe business acquaintances should strut around naked in front of the other.

            He chuckled and I felt the blanket being wrapped around me. It was nice and warm, I will admit, but then I thought about why it was so warm and where it had been and felt my face go bright red again. If I blushed any harder, my head would surely explode.

            “You can open your eyes. I’m not naked… yet,” he said as I did open my eyes, but kept them firmly fixed on his face. He was grinning, that same silly, drunken grin. His eyes looked like liquid silver as he watched me with a rakish gleam in his eyes. Oh yes, he was having loads of fun preying on my sensibilities. There are some actors, Kiernan obviously being one of them, that are like wolves. Never show them weakness because at the first sign of vulnerability, they’ll go in for the kill.

            I took a quick peek downwards and saw that he was not in fact naked. He had navy blue boxers one. That still meant he was scantily clad, but I think I could deal with that. I frowned at him to show him I was displeased. “You did that on purpose.”

            “Not at all. I just thought that it might be a good idea to grab something warmer. It’s damned cold outside. I didn’t want to get sick or, oh I don’t know, contract hypothermia,” he stated. He had quite obviously gone back to mocking me.

            I glared fiercely at him. He winked and left the foyer, leaving me to follow him. He lead me into a room, with the exception of one wall, was made entirely with glass. Well, the walls and ceilings anyway. The floor was a hardwood floor and the furniture was all white including the luxurious, furry rug that lay before the fireplace. There was a fire roaring away too.

            Kiernan went over and laid down flat on his back on the rug. He lifted himself on one elbow and looked at me. It would have been perfect for an underwear commercial or even promoting the scotch he was drinking. I would have loved to sit down next to that toasty fire, but Kiernan tried his hand at a drunken come-hither look. The sad thing was that I was tempted, which was why I decided I would be safer sitting on a chair. The closest available one was halfway across the room, well away from the fireplace’s warmth. I pulled the blanket tighter around me.

            “I thought you said you weren’t afraid of me,” he asked with a yawn. He went back to lying on his back and looking at the stars through the glass ceiling. It was a very romantic room.

            “I’m not,” I lied. I wasn’t… most of the time, but to be entirely unafraid of Kiernan seemed like a foolish idea. I wasn’t a fool. Not that I feared him as I feared the characters and roles he played. I wasn’t sure why, but I knew without a doubt that Kiernan would never hurt me or stand by while another tried to hurt me. In a demented way, being with him was comforting. Was it weird that I felt safe with the man who haunted my nightmares?

            “Then why don’t you sit down here with me?” he asked. He turned his head and his smile would have made any shark proud. “I won’t bite.”

            “Look, I just have to quickly discuss something with you and be on my way,” I announced confidently in my I-mean-business voice.

            He let out a shout of laughter and his eyes sparkled with genuine humour. “You really think you are leaving tonight? Oh, and pray tell, where do you plan on going?”

            “To stay at an inn for the rest of the night and then come back here tomorrow to pick you up before we head back to LA for the charity gala,” she replied calmly.

            He shook his head. “First off all, there are a bunch of college students heading up the mountain to ski or do some rock climbing, I’m not entirely sure which on. So that means the two closest inns will be at full vacancy. All the others inns or motels, you will never find except for maybe one, but you won’t want to stay there.”

            “Oh and why not?” I challenged.

            He grinned again. “Because that’s where we filmed Until Dawn. I overheard you mentioning that it was the only movie of mine you watched. It’s the motel where Jennifer thinks she’s gotten away from me. She bandages her wounds and goes to sleep. Then she wakes up to darkness to find me right there, about to finish what I had started before. All the rooms like the one we filmed in. I suppose you could go to that one, if you really wanted to.”

            I swallowed. I really, really didn’t want to. “You can be a real jackass, did you know that?” I asked, trying to rub the goose bumps on my arms away.

            He took a swallow of scotch. “Yes,” he replied, unperturbed. “Want a drink?” he said, offering his bottle to me.

            “No, thank you.”

            “Okay. Oh and I’m not going to the gala.”

            I narrowed my eyes at him. “Yes, yes you are.”

            “I’ve decided against it.”

            “You can’t decide against it, Maitland,” I argued.

            He wasn’t smiling anymore. He looked angry. I told myself not to tremble. His scowl could incite a real murderer to tremble. I was so proud of myself when I didn’t tremble that I smiled. He glowered. It was nice to change things up a bit. “It’s my life. I decide where I go and where I don’t go.”

            Ah, so that was the root of this problem, I thought. No problem, I knew how to deal with this one. “Now, Kiernan, when you decided to become at actor, you knew fame and fortune would follow. However, with fame and fortune also come responsibility and the press. I know it’s hard, honestly I do, but—”

            “But I can’t just give up because that would mean failing. Hollywood is a competitive world where everyone is waiting for me to fail. I have to rise above them all and show them I am stronger than that, right?” he queried innocently.

            I blinked. That was exactly what I was going to say, but I could swear I had never given him that lecture before. I never gave the same lecture twice to the same person. It would diminish the meaning. They, like Kiernan, would then know that I wasn’t actually having a heartfelt talk with them, but reciting lines that usually worked. Damn this man to Hell.

            He chuckled and took another drink from his bottle. “I heard you say the same to Edward Forrester when he wanted to leave Hollywood and go back to some no-named town of Brampton. What happened to him, anyway?”

            “He finished everything I had scheduled him for, went back to Brampton and married his lawyer. She was an Asian woman, really pretty and tall. Last time I talked, his wife had just given birth to triplets,” I replied with a smile.

            “I don’t plan on getting married or giving birth triplets,” he stated.

            I rolled my eyes. I didn’t bother trying to explain men couldn’t give birth. In his intoxicated state, who knew where that would lead? “That is a good thing to hear because your schedule doesn’t allow for it, anyway. Kiernan Maitland, you have to go to this charity gala. Are you really going to turn your back on thousands of little orphans in Third World countries and make them suffer more hardships just because you don’t want to go there and raise money that may be a paltry sum to you, but life and death for them?”

            It was his turn to roll his eyes. “Yeah, and I bet if I attend the Golden Globe Awards, I’ll be doing my part to ensure world peace.”

            I smiled. “You never know. Come on, Kiernan, why don’t you tell me what this is really about?”

            “Do you know you only say my first name when you want something from me and my last name when you are mad at me? And you say my full name when you are ordering me around. You really are quite bossy.”

            “I do not,” I retorted, choosing to answer his only question and ignoring his statements.

            “You don’t think you are bossy? Don’t worry,” he said in a soothing voice which quickly dropped to what could only be called a ‘bedroom voice’, “I like aggressive women.”

            “Oh lord,” I muttered. “Are you going to tell me why you don’t want to go to this gala? If you have a substantial reason, I may be able to get you out of it without having Jared fire me.”

            “Jared won’t fire you,” Kiernan replied with more insight than I had expected… and this was when he was drunk. “You’re his favourite PR director. Come to think about it, you are my favourite PR director, too.” I was privileged to another one of his come-hither looks, but chose to remain where I was.

            “Stop twisting everything around and tell me why you don’t want to go to the gala, Kiernan Maitland,” I said when I got fed up of his come-ons.

            “Yeah see, full name and you are ordering me around. If you want to know, then come over here and sit with me,” he propositioned.

            “I hardly think--”

            He raised his hand, palm outward like he wanted me to take his hand. “Don’t think. Just come here.”

            Well, at least I would be warmer, I reasoned. Because of the fire of course. Not because of Kiernan because that would just be silly. As I approached the carpet, I saw a paw and then a … head! I froze and looked at him. “Is your rug a polar bear?”
            He showed me his shark smile again. “It used to be.” I turned on my heel and tried to walk away, but he was close enough to grab my hand and forced me to stay. “I was just joking. It’s not real. I thought it would kind of be weird, so the interior designer assured me this wasn’t a real polar bear.”

            “That’s good to know,” I said and tried to sit down on the corner, which I guess would be the fake bear’s hind leg. However, Kiernan was having none of that and yanked on my hand which he was still holding. I ended up sprawled on top of his chest. I immediately tried to get away, but his arms came around to imprison me there.

            “Let me get up,” I demanded, pushing my hair away from my face. My face was going red, of course. Our bodies were pressed against each others and although I was clad in my dress, jacket and blanket, he was still just in his boxers.

            “No, I kind of like you where you are,” he teased. He then rolled so I was before the fire lying on my back and he was next to me, lying on his side. “Besides you are cold, like an ice cube… no, you’ve surpassed ice cube. Now you are like an iceberg… in Antarctica.”

            “Thank you. I’m so very flattered that you think I’m like an iceberg in Antarctica,” I said dryly. I wasn’t blushing at this comment, but then again, icebergs don’t blush.

            The look he was giving me could only be described as hot and heavy. I realized then that the blanket was beneath me and my jacket was lying open. One of his arms was pillowing my head while his other hand drew erotic little circles on my stomach. Okay, so maybe only I found them to be erotic.

            I began to feel uncomfortable. By that I mean I was uncomfortable by how comfortable I was really feeling in his arms. Does that make sense? Anyhow I was going to pull away when he shattered the budding tension by preening, “Did you wear this for me?”

            I laughed. “Not in your dreams.”

            The hot look returned. “You have no idea what goes on in my dreams, lady.”

            “I think I prefer it that way.”

            He chuckled. “Who did you wear it for then? It’s not something that you customarily wear.”

            Well, no, I didn’t often wear dresses that looked like they came off of the pages of a Victoria Secret catalogue. “I had a date earlier this evening. Is it still evening? It must be what? One, two in the morning.”

            Kiernan’s frown was fierce. His hand had stopped drawing circles and foolish as it was, she missed the touch. “It’s one-thirty. Did you like him very much then?”

            My first thought was to ask who, but then I remembered the date. “He was very nice.” He was. He had been very accepting that I would have to cut the date short—really short.

            “So I guess nice guys don’t always finish last,” he huffed. I wasn’t sure why, but he was angry. It was there in his eyes. It was suddenly cold again and I didn’t think the jacket, blanket or fire could warm me up from this kind of cold.

            He looked almost jealous, but surely he wasn’t. I mean, he couldn’t possibly be. People may be frightened of him, but he could still have any woman he put his mind on having and he certainly didn’t have his mind set on having me. I hesitated. “I’m not following here.”

            He leaned close and I had to fight the urge to shrink away. “The only time a woman wears a dress like that is when she wants to get fucked.”

            I wasn’t sure if it was from surprise from his crudity or just downright anger, but somehow I found I had enough strength to push him away and stand to my feet only to glare down at him.

            “You ass! You unmitigated ass!” I shouted. “How dare you criticize me about what I wear or question who I sleep with!”

            “Why not?” He demanded as he stumbled to his feet. When he staggered, it reminded me that he was still quite drunk, but that didn’t lesson my anger. He was just as angry. “People criticize what I wear and who I sleep with all the time. I’m supposed to take that all in stride. You, Miss. PR Director are the one who ensures my name is out there and those press and tabloid vultures are constantly picking at my corpse. So why can’t I say something about someone else for a goddamn change? I thought turnabout was supposed to be fair play!”

            “If you are quite done, I have to leave. I’ll be here at eight-thirty in the morning. Try to be sober by then,” I said tightly.

            “You can’t go anywhere,” he stated matter-of-factly.

            I whirled around. “Oh? And are you going to stop me?”

            “I don’t have to. I have already taken the precaution of hiding your keys and gee, I’m just so drunk, I think I forgot where I hid your keys,” he snapped. “Maybe at eight-thirty in the morning I’ll be sober and remember.”

            My hands clenched and unclenched until I balled them up into fists. The urge to throw something at his thick head was overwhelming. “Bastard,” I hissed. For the first time this evening I wondered if perhaps he wasn’t drunk at all, but no, I had seen the earlier with a nearly empty bottle and he drank almost another full one in front of me.

            “Do you want to hit me?” He taunted. “Go right ahead. I might not even hit you back. After all, I’m not a nice guy. You’d never wear that dress for me. I guess letting you hit me is the only way I could get you to touch me. I’m such a horribly twisted man. I mean, I pretend to kill people for a living. Not like your Mr. Nice Guy. What does he do for a living? Play Prince Charming in Disneyland? If I was Prince Charming, would you wear that dress for me?”

            “Damn you! I wore this dress for Annabelle,” I blurted out.

            He blinked and his face twisted in what could only be described as appalled. “Ah Hell, a guy I can compete with, but a girl? Yeah, I guess I can see how you are a lesbian. You never were like other women.”

            This time I didn’t bother trying to resist the urge. I just looked around for something to throw at him. He must have seen something in my face which hinted at what I was going to do because he quickly plucked the vase I was going for and put it out of reach. “Now, now, I won’t tell anyone if you want to keep it all hush-hush.”

            “For God’s sake! I wore the dress because Annabelle was there when I bought it and told me to where it to the date today because she set it up. Might I add, this was also the date that you screwed up by up and disappearing like that!”

            When I stopped yelling and saw the pleased look on his face when he realized I hadn’t worn the dress for another man, not really, and I wasn’t a lesbian, I made another grab for that vase. He stopped me with his next words.

            “I don’t want to go to the charity gala because of women,” he stated.

            My head was starting to ache from trying to follow this convoluted conversation so I just froze. “What? I can’t ban all women from the gala. Hell, the chairman for the charity is a chairlady. Are you gay? Well, not with your legion of lovers, you can’t be gay. Are you bi?”

            “What the hell?” he looked affronted. I was going to remind him that it was the twentieth century when he said, “I didn’t say because of all women, only two are the problem.”

            “Tell me who they are. I can see if I can get them to miss the gala,” I offered.

            He shook his head. “I just want one to leave me alone. I want the other to pay attention to me.”

            I gave him an incredulous look. “I can try to deal with the one who won’t leave you alone, but I can’t play cupid or matchmaker. If the lady doesn’t want you, there isn’t much I can do.”

            “Diana Landers, she thinks I’m going to marry her and help her have babies. I went out with her once and she’s convinced we are soul mates. She’s not only clingy, but downright stalkerish,” he said with a mock shudder. Or at least I thought it was a mock shudder. The bad part about working with actors is always having to wonder if the person is being sincere or pulling off another performance.

            I nodded. “Okay and the other woman?”

            “Never you mind the other woman,” he ordered.

            “If I am supposed to help you--” I started.

            His lips cut me off in mid-sentence. It was a chaste, sweet kiss, not at all what I expected, not that I expected him to kiss me. Before I knew it, I was in his arms, pressing against him with my arms wrapped tightly around his neck while he deepened this kiss. His tongue explored my mouth as I clutched him tighter. The kiss grew hotter until small whimpers were escaping my throat. I pressed myself closer yet, trying to get inside him if I could, telling him with my body that I wanted more.

            Just as abruptly, he pulled away. He took my arm and started walking up the stairs. My heart was pounding so loud, I wondered if he could hear it. Still in a daze, I simply followed him, hoping my knees wouldn’t give out. Finally as my senses drifted back to me I said, “Kiernan, I--”

            He stopped at a doorway abruptly. “This is the guest room, your room for tonight. It has its own bathroom with towels and a bathrobe in the closet. If you need anything else, my room is just down the hall. Goodnight.”

            With that over and done with, he nearly shoved me into the room and closed the door behind him. I opened it up only to find him stumbling down the hallway to his own room and closing the door after him. I was left to stare into the darkened hallway, wondering what the Hell had gone on.

            Still shaking slightly from the aftermath of one very delicious kiss and because there was no fire or Kiernan to keep the cold out of the hallway, I entered an equally cold guest bedroom. I didn’t have a change of clothes and couldn’t sleep naked or in the offered bathrobe, so after shedding my heels and jacket, I crawled under the covers in my Vera Wang dress and tried to ignore the fact I was still shivering because of the cold. It didn’t matter at that point; my face was still on fire. I couldn’t believe I had shamelessly kissed him back like that. What had I been thinking?

            I had been thinking it had been a long time since I had had sex, too long. Surely that explained my…eager reaction. But I could no longer deny that I was attracted to Kiernan. I had been attracted to other clients as well. Hollywood is full of beautiful people, but Kiernan was different. It disturbed me at times and it was why I never really talked to Kiernan as I did with other clients.

            Not that my feelings toward Kiernan mattered anyway. I may have thought that kiss was great, titillating and earth-shattering, but he quite blatantly didn’t. I must have done something wrong in the kiss because one second he was kissing me back and then next he was acting like a grade school student, shoving me away like I had, dare I say it, cooties! The thought was utterly depressing.

            But then again, maybe it wasn’t me. Before the kiss, he had been talking about that woman he wanted, so maybe he just got caught up in the moment and kissed me. He was drunk after all. Maybe he was kissing me and the remembered that other woman and that was why he pushed me away. That thought was slightly better, but still just as depressing.

            I sighed and then cursed him. I probably was never going to get any sleep to night. I’d probably spend all night thinking about what went wrong in our kiss that would cause him to push me away. I’d also make a mental list of all the woman going to the gala that I knew of and considered the possibility that maybe they were this mystery woman that Kiernan wanted. After that, I’d most likely wonder what that woman had that I didn’t.

            Working in Hollywood, meeting all theses wonderful people who easily outshone you was a depressing line of work. Kiernan wasn’t helping much. It was enough to drive a sane person on Zantac. No, I wasn’t going to get any sleep that night. I might as well have come to terms with the knowledge I’d spend the rest of the night staring at the ceiling or tossing and turning wallowing in my depressed thoughts. Within minutes, I was fast asleep.

            Being aware that I am having a nightmare, doesn’t ever really make the nightmare less scary. It increases the fear, if that makes sense. Maybe it doesn’t, maybe it is just me. Either way, I awoke in my nightmare in a sparsely furnished motel room. My body ached from injuries that I had attained earlier, but were all bandaged up now. My mind simply replayed the scariest, most frightening part of the movie and instead of Jennifer Lopez lying in the bed, it was me. And I knew I wasn’t safe.

            I was awake, but my eyes remained tightly shut. I never once opened my eyes in my nightmare. I was too petrified to do so. I may have known it was a nightmare, but I could never shake myself out of it or dispel the terror that overcame me. I would hear the floorboards creak right behind me and start shaking because I knew he would be behind me, ready to kill me the minute I opened my eyes.

            This is where the horror escalated to a fevered pitch. I’d be shaking like a leaf, gasping for air, curled up in a ball with my eyes tightly screwed shut praying to God that he would just leave or the nightmare would just end. I spent the entirety of the nightmare both dreading the end and hoping for it to come quickly. Dreading it because I knew I would feel his icy hand close around my shoulder and know that this is where I would die if I opened my eyes and anticipating it because as soon as he would, I would be jolted awake and be blessedly free from the nightmare.

            I felt those cold fingers gliding slowly up my arm where they finally closed around my shoulder and tightened like a vise. The hand jerked me onto my back and in real life, my entire body would jerk and in that one sweet moment, the nightmare would relinquish its hold on me. My eyes would still be closed, but I would let out a shaky sigh of relief.

            Some fear would still linger. Fear that would remain until I gathered up enough courage to open my eyes, sit up, glance around the room and assure myself that it was exactly what it had been, just a dream. Taking another deep breath, my eyes opened to find those familiar grey eyes staring back. That same face that I dreaded seeing. With a cruel twist of fate, the nightmare had not ended but continued, all the more petrifying because this had never happened before!

            Before I could come to my senses, I let out a bloodcurdling scream and continued screaming as I bit, clawed and kicked at the root of my nightmare. All of a sudden, he disappeared, but the lamp by the bed was turned on, blinding me and in a flash, he was back, holding me, cradling me, soothing me. The man who was the source of all my terror was comforting me and, God help me, I clung to him.

            “I hate you,” I whispered hoarsely after I stopped screaming, “I really, really hate you. This is entirely your fault!” He held me tighter and I was thankful, though I was never going to admit I was. We were lying on the bed on our sides, facing each other, clutching each other. My arms were tightly wrapped around his waist while one of his hands was buried in my hair and the other rubbed my back in long, calming strokes. One of his legs had also wrapped around mine and my head was buried in the curve of his neck. I felt entirely protected in this warm cocoon.

            “How is it my fault?” he asked, eventually when he had felt the stiffness seeped away and I had eventually relaxed.

            “How is it your fault?” I repeated incredulously and lifted my head to look at him. “First, your damn movie won’t stop giving me nightmares and then when I open my eyes to make sure you aren’t lurking in my room, you are! You are scary, Kiernan and don’t pretend you don’t know it!” I probably ruined this by snuggling closer to him, but the man was emanating heat and I was apparently the iceberg from Antarctica.

            “Poor baby,” he cooed. “You don’t seem to be afraid of me now.”

            I wasn’t, but rather than concede that point to him, I demanded, “What are you doing here anyway after ending the evening on such an abrupt note?”

            “You were whimpering in your sleep,” he stated.

            I flushed slightly with embarrassment. “You couldn’t possibly hear that from your room.” How pathetic would it be if he did?

            “No, I came because I was afraid you were cold,” he clarified.

            “Oh…” What more could I really say? He went from being plain old drunk to angry to passionate to insulting (shoving a woman away after kissing her is insulting) to haunting and now, he decided to turn sweet on me? And they say women were a confusing lot. “So you came to bring me more…blankets?”

            He grinned. “No, I thought we could share body heat.”

            Well, to be honest, I didn’t want to stop sharing body heat because it was a hell of a lot better than freezing. So I didn’t say another word, I just rested my head back in the curve of his neck. I could hear the steady beat of his heard and let his heat wash over me. I was slowly lulled back into sleep. I was still somewhat awake, though mostly asleep when I felt him shift. His lips brushed lightly over my neck, making me shiver over the delicious contact. I sighed and tilted my head to give him better access to my neck.

            His lips wandered along my jaw and then to that soft just behind my ear. I sighed again. He licked, sucked and nibbled where my pulse beat erratically and that spot where my neck met my shoulder. I moaned. I still wasn’t entirely awake, but I knew I didn’t want him to stop.

            Blindly, I turned my head and sought out his lips. The kiss wasn’t sweet this time. He drove his tongue into my mouth and tasted fleeting resistance and surprise and then the surge of acceptance and my own desire. I kissed him back with my whole being, holding nothing back. The kiss was intense, intimate and a hell of a lot hotter than the last one.

            He kissed me as if he was trying to devour me and I wanted nothing more than to be devoured. His hands moved along my body in caresses that set my nerves on fire. I nipped his lower lip and then soothed the bite with small flicks of my tongue. I heard him gasp and was very pleased with myself. He must have seen my expression of smug, female satisfaction because he rolled us over so I lay on my back with him on top of me.

            I could feel his lower body pressed against me, very hard and very male. I was gasping for breath. Hot sparks shot out wherever he touched me and all headed down lower to that one spot that ached for his touch. I arched against him, begging with my body for him to touch me there. Pleaded with every moan or whimper I made. All that separated us was my flimsy little dress because…

            “Christ, you’re already naked aren’t you?”

            He let out a low chuckle. “My name is Kiernan, darling, not Christ and yes, I do have a habit of sleeping naked. You, however, are a bit overdressed for the occasion.”

            He raised up on his arms to look me up and down. This time I felt my face heat up, not from embarrassment, but from the warm pleasure I felt from the expression on his face after his frank appraisal. He grabbed the hem of the dress in a tight fist and slowly began pulling it up my body. He kissed my thighs, my flat stomach, abdomen and stopped right before he pulled it over my breasts.

            “You aren’t wearing a bra.”

            It was a statement rather than a question, but I shook my head anyway. He pulled me up for another long, hot kiss before he removed the dress completely and stared at my breasts. After a moment or two, I grew embarrassed and shifted. His eyes met mine and I saw desire so hot, barely contained that after he placed an almost chaste kiss on one breast and then the other, I was at a fevered pitch, but he was hardly done.

            He drew my nipple into his mouth and sucked hard. “Oh God,” I cried. “Kiernan, now! Please now.”

            “Patience is a virtue.”

            I growled. “I’m not virtuous.”

            As punishment for my impatience, hit bit down softly on my flesh. I cried out and arched off the bed. “That hurt, Kiernan!”

            “Baby, you don’t even know what you like,” he told me in a husky whisper and did it again. I moaned and bucked my hips against him. He groaned. I felt his hand slide downward and cup that place I wanted him to touch, caress so bad. I pressed against his hand in desperation. His finger slid into my wet heat.

            “Kiernan.”

            “Don’t you know that anticipation on makes it sweeter? But, God, you are so ready for me,” he smugly declared, as his finger moved in and out of me, only imitating what I yearned for. I was panting. It was so hard to draw a breath. All sense and coherency fled leaving nothing but need and passion in their wake.

            “Kiernan Maitland, if you don’t come inside of me right now, I swear I am going to—Oh Holy Mother of God!” I screamed.

            In the middle of my demand, he thrust in hard, immediately filling me, stretching me with his scorching heat. I almost came right there. I was convinced that nothing could have possibly feel better than having him inside me, but then he moved and melted completely for him.

            “You used my full name to order me around,” he informed me. “Like I said, bossy.”

            He was teasing me. My whole world was falling apart and he was teasing me. I grabbed fistfuls of his hair and brought his head down. “Shut up and kiss me.”

            “Yes, ma’am.”

            The kiss was intense, oh so passionate. I could die a happy woman if I died in Kiernan’s arms. As our tongues warred for control of the kiss that really neither of us could control, because it was need controlling us now, he moved inside of me with long, hard thrusts and I raised my hips to meet him every time.

            Everything began spinning out of control. White hot, searing pleasure raced through my veins, leaving my body scorching hot as I writhed beneath him. The pleasure kept building and building until it was almost acute pain. I knew Kiernan was going through the same feelings I was because he kept whispering hot words in my ears. I only caught half of them and they too, brought my higher.

            “—I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you. You were always so reserved, so contained. I wanted you in my bed, beneath me, arching, bucking and writhing. I wanted to drive into your sweet little body and hear your scream my name as I watched you come. God, this is better than I could possibly imagine and I did imagine this. Played this out a hundred times over again in my head, but this is better. So much better. I’m never going to let you go. You’re mine. Do you hear me, Madilyn? You are mine and I’m all yours. Tell me your mine, I want to hear the words, tell me.”

            It kept building and building and I couldn’t take the pleasure anymore. It was too strong. I finally reached that sublime, pinnacle moment and he stopped. Stunned, desperate I grabbed for him.

            “Tell me, Madilyn. Tell me that you are mine,” he whispered. He was straining above me, shaking from the strength it took for him to stop. Perspiration beaded on his forehead. “Madilyn,” he whispered in a desperate plea.

            “Yours, all yours,” I shakily told him. We both knew we were talking about a hell of a lot more than sex. It was scary, but exhilarating and just seemed so… right. My hands rose to frame his face. “I’m yours and you’re mine. I won’t let you go, either.”

            “I wouldn’t want you to,” he said and plunged back into me for one final time. That pinnacle moment shattered, shattering me into a million pieces. I screamed out his name and hung onto him for dear life. He let out his own shout as he buried his head in my neck and I felt his hot seed surge inside of me. We both lay there in the aftermath of, well for me anyway, the best sex I had ever had in my life.

            He got off of me, murmuring something about he didn’t want to crush me with his weight. I honestly hadn’t noticed. It all felt just so good. We lay on our sides, still entangled and I couldn’t resist touching him. I loved touching him. We had come along way from business acquaintances in just one night.

            “I wasn’t drunk,” he blurted out.

            It took awhile for the impact of his words to reach me. I stiffened. “What?”

            He lifted my chin so he could see my face. “I wasn’t drunk at all. The bottle you saw me carrying at first had been empty when I picked it up and although I did drink the second one, it was hardly enough for me to get drunk or lose control. I pretended I was drunk.”

            I should have been mad. I should have been furious and hurling things at him, but I wasn’t. In the after effects of the greatest sex in the world, I couldn’t be mad, but I didn’t let him know that. “You bastard. Why?” I demanded from him.

            He didn’t shrug as I expected him to. “Because if I had come on to you while you believed I was completely sober, you would have left. You would have been scared and you would have backed off and we would have never ended up as we are now and that would be a shame.”

            It would be. A terrible shame, but I asked him, “That’s your excuse, Maitland?”

            He actually flinched because I used his last name only which he had mentioned I only did when I was angry with him. He began dropping kisses along my neck and on my face. “I know, I’m sorry. It was absolutely shameless.”

            “It was.”

            “I’ll make it up to you,” he promised as he nipped her ear.

            “You are on the right course now,” I told him. He looked up at me surprised and the grinning when he saw that I wasn’t actually upset.

            “You aren’t mad? You made me believe you were at first.” He took the earlobe into his mouth and sucked. I murmured in pleasure.

            “You are not the only one who can act.” He laughed and moved lower. “Kiernan!” I cried as I tried to push his head away and close my legs. He wouldn’t let me, instead he began ‘making it up to’ as I gasped for air.

            It’s safe to say, he made it up to me. Even if I had been mad, I couldn’t be afterwards. Kiernan was a very thorough man. We did go to the gala. Kiernan said he would only go if I promised to keep Diana Landers far, far away for him. As for the woman he wanted, I think it was quite obvious that said mystery woman I was worried about was none other than me. We did arrive late for the gala, though. We got a bit… preoccupied at the chalet and had to hurry back home.

            However the gala seems like ages ago. Afterwards, we got officially engaged. We were sort of unofficially engaged that night when we vowed we belonged to each other and would never let go of the other. Planning the wedding was even more hectic than being a PR director or elementary school teacher, but like I said, I’m used to hectic. What more can I say? That we lived happily ever after? We did. I guess fairytales do come true in Hollywood.

Right, I was going to call this Falling Star, but I didn’t have him fall…. So I changed it last minute. But yes, did you like it? I’ll apologize for any typing errors, but I just wanted to get this done and tried to edit some of it. But it’s up here for you to read… isn’t that worth something? Sorry to Izzy, Anne, Mo and Fareh to whom I kept saying I was almost done my story and took almost a full week to get it done. I ACTUALLY thought I would have it done earlier. But yes, writers, like actors, are in constant need of flattery…. So please review… lol you don’t have to flatter me though, just tell me what you thought. Okay, I’ll stop talking now. Thank you for reading. Flawless Storm.