Already Famous Read online

  No, I just want you, thank you very much. I smile at the thought of her naked and writhing beneath me. I need to leave the room before I do something stupid. “Sure thing, Sydney. Sushi sounds great.”

  Fire, living room, stop thinking about sex, dumbass.

  I head out of the kitchen to try and tame the erection growing in my pants. I haven’t had to work this hard to get a girl in almost ten years, and this moment makes it totally worth it. Women agreeing with everything I say, sucking up, trying to take their clothes off five minutes after meeting me… I think I prefer the building tension that’s happening between me and the secretive girl in the other room.

  Sydney’s fireplace is wood burning, but it has a gas starter. Thank god. I won’t have to look like an idiot if I can’t get it started with just matches. It only takes a few minutes to get a good fire going. Working with the fireplace proves to be a good way to calm my dick down enough to keep her from seeing a giant bulge in my pants.

  Sydney strides purposefully through the living room into what I assume is a bedroom and comes back with a huge quilt. She spreads it out on the floor in front of the fire and shrugs saying only, “Picnic-style,” and produces a bottle of wine and two glasses.

  We end up drinking wine and eating sushi on the floor. She ordered a bunch of different types for us to share and her concierge brought them to her door. She lets me feed her from my chopsticks, and watching her open that luscious mouth is enough to make my pants uncomfortable again for another twenty minutes.

  We laugh and talk about random things. I stick to safe topics, nothing personal about her or me. I still want to know about that asshat Adam Reynolds and the Warren Hotel, but I’ll have to wait, even though thinking about him makes me want to punch his face repeatedly.

  My need to take her here on the quilt in front of the fire is another story altogether. I can’t stay here much longer and not try to get her into bed. When she gathers up her dishes and brings them to the kitchen I decide it’s time to leave, but not without a promise that she’ll see me again tomorrow.

  We place our things by the sink and head back toward the living room. It goes against every instinct I have to get my coat out of the closet by the door and put it on. She stops and looks at me, pressing her lips together tightly. “I’d better be going, Sydney. It’s pretty late.” I can see the disappointment in her eyes, she wants me to stay and fuck her. I can practically smell it coming off of her.

  Without thinking, I step towards her and she instinctively backs up into the door. So fucking hot. When she lets out a little pant at my proximity, I reach out and stroke her soft, lightly freckled skin from her cheek down to her collarbone and lean forward to breathe in her scent. Everything about her draws me right in, I can’t help myself.

  Struggling to contain the lust coursing through my body, I force my brain to win out, refusing to let her get away. I will get what I want and I want her, all of her. “Can I see you again?” She closes her eyes and parts her lips, waiting for me to take her against the door.

  No, not until you answer me, Miss Allen.

  After a few seconds, Sydney blinks open those big blue eyes. “What? Am I wrong to expect a kiss goodbye?” she asks, somewhat confused and upset. I think she’s disappointed that I won’t make a move.

  You’re going to get kissed Sydney, as soon as you give me what I want.

  I lean in just a little more so I can inhale the scent of her soft hair again, already addicted to it. “I’ll kiss you. As soon as you say that you’ll see me again.” I pull back so I can see her face, once again resisting the overwhelming craving I have to rip off her clothes and sink into her wet heat.

  She tilts a tiny bit toward me and whispers, “Yes, I’ll see you again Drew. Now please, kiss me.”

  Fuck. I snap. My control evaporates when she says that to me. One step forward is all it takes to press into that soft, hot body. My mouth crashes over hers and I run my tongue over her luscious lips to see if they taste as good as they look. When Sydney moans and opens her mouth, my dick takes the driver’s seat. I grab her tight ass and pull her against my hard cock in an attempt to get some badly needed friction. Our mouths clash together and I get even harder.

  Trying to calm down, I run my teeth down her neck and put some space between us. I can’t take her to bed tonight. Sydney is definitely not like any of the other women I’ve had and I’m not going to treat her like a groupie. I’m going to get her number. “Give me your phone, Sydney.” She stands there with a blank look, her lips swollen and wet from our kisses. “Your phone. Please.”

  Her eyebrows pinch together in confusion as she reaches for her purse, pulls out her phone, and drops it into my hand. Good, now I’ll have her phone number. I hastily send a text message from her phone to mine and hand it back to her.

  Beep

  Smiling, I pull my phone out of my pocket and wave it in front of her. “Well, well. You texted me and asked me to dinner tomorrow night.” I type out a response and her phone beeps almost immediately in her hand. I slide mine back into my pocket and look right at her. “I said yes.” I reach up and hold her face, giving her a quick kiss, any more than that and I won’t stop. “I should go, Sydney. It was great seeing you again. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  She nods and steps aside so I can leave. “Yes. Tomorrow.” Sydney is adorably disheveled. She’s as dazed as I am.

  I grin at the thought of her wanting me. “I can’t wait.” Kissing her cheek, I force myself to walk out of the loft.

  Thank god the elevator is slow. By the time I reach the lobby I’m able to walk without a tent in the front of my pants, but not without the huge, stupid smile on my face. I met a girl, and not just any girl. A gorgeous, interesting, secretive, sexy girl who’s been living two blocks from me for six years and has never heard of Andrew Forrester. She likes Sam Adams and coffee, hates movies and television and Adam Reynolds interviews.

  I think I’m in love.

  CHAPTER 4

  “OhmyGODyou’reAndrewForrester!”

  I hear the squeal from two girls that are rushing towards me as I walk home from Sydney’s place. I automatically reach up to pull my hat over my face. Shit, I left my hat at Sydney’s.

  I try not to cringe as they rush up to me and one of them grabs my arm. Whoa! I smoothly remove myself from her grasp. I try not to be an asshole about it, but don’t fucking touch me. Ten years of strangers trying to grab your package and your ass makes you rethink letting people put their hands on you.

  “Good evening ladies,” I say, turning up the charm so I can keep walking and hopefully they won’t realize they’re being blown off.

  “You’re so hot!” the one who grabbed my arm screeches. What in the hell do they feed young girls that makes their voices so irritating?

  “Could we get a picture with you, please?” the other one asks politely. At least one of them was raised with manners.

  I stop, sighing before turning around to face them on the sidewalk. “Sure,” I say with my best fake Andrew Forrester grin. The girls squeeze in next to me and the courteous one snaps a selfie with her cellphone. I need to keep moving before more people notice me. It’s dark and it’s late, but even the indifferent citizens of New York City can turn batshit crazy if they spot me.

  “Have a nice evening, ladies.” I quickly spin on my heel and take off, walking as quickly as I can without flat out running.

  I reach my brownstone and duck inside, having lost the fans a few blocks back. My street is pretty quiet, it’s strictly residential so there’s not a lot of foot traffic on a normal day. Definitely not at eleven o’clock at night on a Thursday so I’m able to get home without anyone else seeing me.

  I get inside and go straight up to my office on the third floor. Throwing my coat on the leather couch, I collapse into the chair at my desk and think about tomorrow night, twisting the chair back and forth slowly. How in the hell am I going to take Sydney on a date? I can’t go out with her in public. Those girls are just
the tip of the giant screeching iceberg that makes up the Andrew Forrester fan club.

  I groan and run my hands through my hair. This is one of those times that I wish I could be a normal guy. Damien was right, I haven’t met a woman that I’ve been interested in for more than a quick fuck for longer than I can remember.

  The last semi-serious relationship I was in ended very badly when I found her passed out in a bed with Adam fucking Reynolds. She came to visit me in L.A. while I was filming my first big movie, got drunk at a party and disappeared. When I finally found her, it was in a bedroom and that douche was zipping up his pants. I failed to keep her safe at that party and let her wander off drunk. That hurt more than anything else, the guilt, the feeling that it was my fault.

  My fame shot off the charts shortly after that, and I had Reynolds blacklisted from the film industry. He fucked my almost unconscious girlfriend with me right downstairs. That asshole got exactly what he deserved and I learned not to get close to anyone after that, that way I couldn’t let them down and they couldn’t let me down.

  After a few painful early experiences, I learned not to trust actresses either and that fans are just too irritating to date, stealing your shit for trophies to show their friends. That leaves very few options for me when it comes to women. Hooking up with a crew member works best. You get a few weeks together, then they go back to their lives when we wrap and I go back to mine. No gossip, no problems.

  Until now.

  Sydney Allen. Everything about her is perfect for me. What could she be hiding? Why would someone be so scared of finding out an acquaintance is a celebrity? Did she used to date someone famous and get dumped? Maybe her last boyfriend was in the business and he used to smack her around. My hands are hurting and I realize that I’m gripping the armrests of my chair so severely that my fingers are gouging the wood.

  The thought of someone hurting Sydney makes me so angry that I can barely think. Calm down, Forrester, you’re being irrational. I don’t even know this girl, how can she cause such a profound response in me? I shake it off and focus.

  Okay, date, tomorrow night, with Sydney. Where can I take her? Looking out the window of my office, I have only one idea. I whip out my cellphone and dial up Jane, my assistant. Jane’s been with me for a long time. She pretty much runs my life. I can’t even imagine doing what I do without her. She makes sure everything goes smoothly, in my professional and personal life.

  It’s only eight thirty in L.A. where Jane is spending the weekend visiting her daughter. Since I’m between films and promotion for A Soldier’s Burden hasn’t really ramped up yet, I gave her a long weekend out of town. But she knows that I’ll still bug her once in a while.

  “Drew, I just left yesterday. You can’t live without me, can you?” she says when she answers her phone.

  I laugh. She’s like my sister and my mother rolled into one. “You know it, Janey. I need your help.”

  “When do you not need my help? I’m the best and you know it.”

  “Yes, I do know it. I worship at your feet, my dear.” I love playing around with her. She doesn’t take my crap and doesn’t act like a fan. I’d probably do anything to keep her happy. She’s family as far as I’m concerned. “Listen, I have a date tomorrow night and I need to take her somewhere private. Where no one will recognize me or treat me weird. Do you have any ideas?”

  There’s dead silence on the other end.

  “Jane? Did I lose you?” I check the screen, it’s still connected. “Jane?”

  “I’m sorry Drew. Did you say you have a date? Like a real date?”

  I’ve rendered Jane speechless. Not an easy feat, and now I’m embarrassed. I’m not good with talking about shit like feelings. I drag my free hand through my hair nervously. “Yes, a real date. And I don’t want to screw this up. I really like this girl and she doesn’t know who I am. I’d like to keep it that way. So where can I take her? You know all the good places in this city.” Jane was born and raised in midtown, so she knows everyone and everything.

  “What? Did you say she doesn’t know who you are?” Jane’s tone indicates that she’s not sure if she believes me.

  “I know,” I chuckle. “I thought she was full of it too.” I explain to Jane what happened at the café with Sydney and the GQ article and how Leah recognized me but didn’t say anything to Sydney.

  “Adam Reynolds? Seriously? That guy is going to haunt you until you die,” Jane says sarcastically. “Okay, Drew, I have an idea. They’re still open so I should be able to get someone on the line. I’ll call you right back.”

  “Thanks Jane.” I disconnect and toss the phone onto the desk. I look around my office. It’s huge for a home office. Because I don’t live in L.A., it’s the home base for the monster that is Andrew Forrester. I keep all of my important awards in here, two People’s Choice, a SAG, and a Golden Globe, plus a bunch of other random shit.

  Lining the wall behind the couch are photos of me with different celebrities and politicians. Of course, my favorite is the one of me taken with the Sox after they whipped the Yankees in the ALCS. My New York buddies hate that picture. That makes it even sweeter.

  The ringing of my phone snaps me out of my daydream. “Hey Jane, give me good news.”

  “You owe me Drew,” she pouts. I can tell she’s just pretending to be upset so I laugh at her. “Tomorrow night, 9pm at the Sunset House. I got you one of their private dining rooms. They’re very discreet. I told them you don’t want the staff to say anything in reference to who you are and they understand. They get celebrities all the time, so you should be fine.”

  “I don’t want ‘should be fine’ Jane. I want perfect. I don’t want them fucking this up by asking for an autograph or some shit!” I bark into the phone.

  “Listen here, Drew Forrester, don’t you dare swear at me!” Crap, Jane can’t stand cursing. It makes it really hard to be around her sometimes since my first word as a baby may as well have been ‘shit’. “I did you a huge favor here, buddy! Bruce will be there to get you at eight-fifteen. If you want to clarify your demands with the restaurant, I’ll email you their info. Speak to Clarence, he’s the manager.”

  Great, I pissed her off. My life does not go well when Jane is pissed off. “I’m sorry, Jane. I’m just nervous. I really like this girl.”

  She pauses before answering. “Wow… you have definitely got it bad. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.” She takes pity on me and my bizarre behavior. “Alright, I’ll call them back. What’s the girl’s name by the way? These fancy places like to have all of their ducks in a row when you arrive.”

  I give Sydney’s name to Jane and thank her profusely, telling her how great she is and how much I’m forever in her debt before I disconnect.

  I have until I see Sydney Allen tomorrow night to figure out how to make her mine.

  CHAPTER 5

  After wiping the sweat out of my eyes with a towel, I take a long drink of water. I need to catch my breath for a minute before I can speak, so I hold up a finger to Damien Spader, my best friend and trainer, to let him know I need a break. It’s already been a long day and it’s only ten in the morning. I had to be up early to call in for an interview with Entertainment Weekly. I love talking about the movies I make, but they always try to pry into my personal life and it gets really tiresome.

  “What’s with you today, Forrester? Are you trying to kill me?” He’s panting too. We’re sparring at the gym Damien owns, the run down hole in the wall in Hell’s Kitchen where Sydney came stumbling into my life.

  I’ve been practicing Muay Thai and Ju Jitsu here for about eight years, ever since Damien was hired to get me in shape for a movie. He introduced me to both of the sports to prepare me to play a disgraced UFC fighter. We’ve been friends ever since.

  Usually, we’re pretty even when we spar, although I’m sure he could take me down every single time if he wanted to. He knows not to hurt me badly enough to do it. I sign contracts that require me to show up f
or filming in one piece, I can’t turn up with a dislocated shoulder or a broken nose. It makes me feel like a pussy sometimes, that we can’t just go at it, but I have to make a living and a lot of other people depend on those paychecks too. Damien hates it, but he understands. There are times when I think he really wants to kick my ass though.

  “Sorry, D,” I huff, throwing down the protective head gear and bending over to catch my breath. “I have a lot on my mind.”

  Actually, I was thinking about whoever made Sydney such a nervous wreck, and how I would pound the shit out of them if we ever met. I might have taken some of my hostility out on Damien. I may have also pictured that ass Adam Reynolds every time my fists and feet made contact.

  “Whatever, dude. Just know that I could totally smash your pretty face into the mat,” he says, but his expression tells me he’s just kidding. I did hit him harder than usual, so maybe he’s pissed and hiding it well.

  Laughing, I point at myself. “Damien, this face makes millions of women drop their panties faster than you can blink. We can’t destroy their dreams now, can we?”

  I give him a shit eating grin and he smiles. He knows me well enough to know that I can’t stand the attention from the fans, especially the female ones. When we go out, he gets downright infuriated at all of the interruptions from people coming up to me, bugging me for an autograph or a picture or a date. He sort of acts like my anti-wingman, keeping the adoring fans away so we can relax. Usually, I just wear my ‘human-repelling’ costume, as Sydney put it. It’s easier when you’re not spotted in the first place.

  “Guess we can’t. How could I sleep at night knowing that women all over the world are mourning the loss of your beauty? But it would be a hell of a lot easier going out for a few beers if you did fuck up your face.” He punches my arm and we call it a day.

  Normally, I just walk the six blocks back to my place in Chelsea, but I don’t want to waste time getting stopped by fans today. I shaved this morning before I left, to keep the pads from irritating my face, so I actually look like Andrew Forrester today. Bruce is waiting for me out front with the car when I dart out the front door of the gym and hop in the back seat.