Vance a movie star roman.., p.1

VANCE: A Movie Star Romance, page 1


VANCE: A Movie Star Romance

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VANCE: A Movie Star Romance


  A Movie Star Romance

  Lucy Lambert


  About This Book

  VANCE: A Movie Star Romance

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26


  Thank you!

  Italian Kisses

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23


  About the Author

  About This Book

  He needs a new girlfriend for the cameras. She's just doing her job. But sometimes fake love can turn into the real thing...

  Vance Tracker has a PR problem. He's Hollywood's most famous bad boy, but breaking up with his last girlfriend on live TV wasn't exactly his most popular moment. Now he needs a whirlwind romance with a good girl to get the public back on his side.

  Erin Paige is nobody's damsel in distress. Even when she's falling off of a ladder and right into the arms of the most arrogant alpha movie star in the business. But when he offers her a job as his private assistant, he won't take no for an answer. And when that offer turns into something more, she can't help but feel like there's something deeper in the attraction that starts to sear both of them.

  Will she still feel the same way when she finds out the real reason Vance is flirting with her?

  His mouth fit so perfectly against mine.

  His palm burned against my cheek. His other hand held me hard against him. I could feel the hardness of his body through his shirt.

  I thought I knew something more about the real Vance now, after he told me that story. And at that moment, I wanted to know the real Vance as well as I could.

  I climbed onto his lap, for once looking down into his face instead of up. I took that face in both my hands, his stubbled cheeks rough against my palms, and kissed him again.

  He held me close, arms wrapped around me.

  His mouth slipped away from mine and found my throat. He kissed his way down it, pausing briefly at the sensitive hollow at the bottom, then starting back up.

  I pushed my hips down against him. He thrust back up against me, the ridge of his desire making my breath catch in my throat.

  “Tell me again,” I said, “tell me you’ve been thinking about me.”

  “Since the terminal,” he said, his breath hot against me. “Since that weekend. Since the first time I saw you.”

  His hands moved up between our bodies, cupping my breasts. He squeezed, lightly at first, then harder. I ached for him, inside and out.

  Then he pulled off my shirt, exposing my heaving chest and shoulders. He kissed and nuzzled down along my throat and shoulders again, the heat of his mouth teasing along the tops of my breasts.

  I pulled off his shirt, eager to run my hands along his sculpted pecs and shoulders. His skin was so smooth and warm, and when I felt those muscles clench at my touch I throbbed for him, deep inside.

  Quivering heat filled my stomach. Excited heat that shivered up my back, down my arms to my fingertips, down my legs to my toes.

  We kissed again, this time so hard our teeth clashed. Neither of us minded. The moment of pain made the pleasure all that much nicer.

  When he slid my bra off his hands once again found my breasts. He squeezed them. His fingers found my nipples and squeezed those, too…

  VANCE: A Movie Star Romance

  Chapter 1


  Climbing higher, I found the next finger hold in the cliff face. I slowly put my weight onto it, wondering if this would be it. The moment when the gritty surface gave way in a dusty shower and sent me flying.

  It wasn’t.

  I looked up to the blue and cloudless sky.

  “Come on, not too much farther now,” I muttered. Some of the dust got into my face and I gritted my teeth against it.

  Linda, climbing beside me, glanced over. Her harness clung tightly to her body, outlining the swell of her breasts and hips.

  I wish we were horizontal instead of vertical.

  “Less talking, more climbing,” Linda said, whipping her head back to focus her attention on the climb. Her long blonde hair, pulled into a ponytail for convenience, danced across her shoulders, which themselves glistened with beaded perspiration.

  She wore a look of hard determination on her face.

  I looked up along her path. “Watch out, that next handhold might be tricky.”

  She glared at me. I smiled in retaliation.

  “Don’t worry; I know what I’m doing!” she said.

  She didn’t.

  She dropped her hips, tightening her body like a coiled spring, about to make a leap for that next grip.

  “Wait!” I shouted. Too late. I saw the cracks and fatigue in the spot she intended to use.

  She launched herself upwards, crying out in victory when she grabbed onto the next ledge.

  That cry of victory turned to a sudden, confused squawk when the ledge crumbled.

  She fell.

  “No!” I shouted. My heart thrummed. I tasted copper at the back of my mouth.

  Her safety line tightened when the slack went out. Her whole body jerked from the force of it. Then she swung back against the cliff.

  She looked up at me, her face full of blanched fear. “Help!”

  “I’m coming!” I shouted. I started down. Then I saw the safety hook to which her line was attached begin backing out from the spot she’d hammered it into moments before. She saw it, too.

  “Hang on!” I screamed.

  Not fast enough! I thought, moving towards her, scurrying across the cliff face.

  Her hook flew out of the cliff face, and she fell.

  I leapt for her, reaching out. I grabbed her hand and we both slammed against the cliff. I flinched at the pain in my shoulder.

  “Don’t let go!” She said.

  But then her fingers began to slip. I reached and grabbed for her with both hands, but then felt my own safety line begin sliding. I looked up at the hook, saw it backing out the same way hers had moments before.

  She saw, too.

  “Hang on,” I gritted out, straining with one hand to hold onto the cliff and with my other to hold onto her.

  “Just get to the top,” she whimpered.

  “Wait!” I grunted, seeing what she meant to do.

  She let go and dropped.

  I stared after her.

  “Cut!” the director, a Spielberg-wannabe with his glasses and baseball cap named Troy Sanders, shouted. “That was good, guys. Finally!”

  I relaxed.

Down below, about twenty feet, Linda looked up at me from the huge air mattress she’d landed on. It was green, so that they could take it out in post-production.

  “Good,” I said, “because I’m not doing this scene again! Now, someone get me down from here.”

  The PAs who held the other end of my safety line glanced at each other and started lowering me. I pretended not to notice. The girl PA was a cute little thing, and I caught her looking at me every now and then.

  Like at that moment. I let my eyes slide past her, as though I didn’t even notice her. Her own eyes dropped.

  I didn’t need to care what they thought. They were lucky to be here from whatever film schools they came from in the area. I didn’t even know their names.

  But they knew mine. And that was the way it should be.

  Besides, I was Hollywood’s bad boy and I had a reputation to uphold. It wasn’t my problem if they couldn’t deal with it.

  I touched the pavement of the exterior soundstage. We were on the studio lot, surrounded by various sets and warehouses. Somewhere nearby I heard the whir of an electric golf cart.

  The California sun beat down on us from just over the edge of the fake cliff. I needed a drink.

  I went over to the air mattress where Linda still lay. I reached out. “Let me help you off there.” Women loved a little chivalry. Especially when they didn’t expect it.

  She crawled over and took my hand. I thought again of the look of sheer terror on her face when she fell. She was a good actress.

  Jealousy twinged in my chest. I’m still better. I know I am.

  I helped her to her feet and she glanced at me and then away again, a blush in her cheeks. She knew I wanted her, and that familiar pulse of desire electrified me.

  Troy came up to me, flipping through the clipboard he always toted around. He was short and a bit pudgy, and he could never hide his jealousy when he stood next to my trim, muscular form.

  “Take fifteen, then be back here. We’re going to do scene 13 next…” he started.

  I held up a hand, silencing him. “What I have in mind is going to take at least 30 minutes.”

  He frowned and glanced at the chunky watch on his wrist. “But the schedule…”

  “Just deal with it, Sanders. You know where I’ll be,” I said.

  Then, without asking, I took Linda’s hand again. Her pulse beat quickly against my palm. “I think we could both use some refreshments after that one. Don’t you?”

  “Yeah…” she said.

  She was a relatively new starlet. An up-and-comer, as they called them. Not jaded yet. And still a little star-struck when she met real celebrities. Like me.

  It was adorable. And also a huge turn on.

  Although the way her climbing harness showed off her lithe body helped in that department.

  “My trailer is this way,” I said. I’d been waiting the entire shoot, which had been going on for three weeks now, for the right opportunity. And finally, it presented itself.

  Chapter 2


  “Can you believe this guy?” I asked, while I wound the rope we’d been using to hold Vance up. I made big loops around my arm, the nylon biting into my skin.

  I watched Vance Tracker lead his co-star away, the two of them hand in hand. I rolled my eyes.

  “Bit full of himself, isn’t he?” My fellow PA, a lanky guy named Danny, said. He didn’t help with the rope or the rest of the safety equipment.

  “So full I’m surprised he doesn’t burst,” I replied.

  “So you're saying that you’re the only woman in existence who doesn’t have a crush on him?” Danny teased.

  The stage manager glanced over in our direction. Danny saw. He bent over to grab the coils of rope I’d already dealt with.

  “Of course not,” I said with a huff that was far too theatrical.

  I used to be one of those girls. And even now, I couldn’t deny just how hot the guy was. But looks only got you so far.

  And the real Vance Tracker was the not characters he portrayed on screen. I knew that now.

  This summer internship had seemed like a great opportunity at the time. It gave me credit towards my program at UCLA, not to mention experience and the chance to rub shoulders with some real players in Hollywood.

  And it also shattered dreams. I’d been helping Vance out for weeks now, and he couldn’t even remember my name.

  I looked around the set, gazing up at the fake cliff face with the big fans on the one side to simulate wind.

  I’d wanted to drop Vance right on his pompous ass. Let him fall into that air mattress. I could have gotten away with it, too. Blamed it on the equipment.

  The only thing hurt would have been his pride. And I think everyone from the director on down would have liked to see that.

  “Uh oh,” Danny said, knocking me from my fantasy.

  “Hmm?” I followed his line of sight.

  Troy Sanders stood at the other end of the lot, arms crossed, talking to the stage manager. They both looked over in our direction.

  Danny and I both recognized that look. In the film industry, as in many others, all the work rolls downhill. And as production assistants, Danny and I stood at the very bottom of said hill.

  And right about then, we could both tell that the higher-ups wanted to roll a nice big boulder our way.

  Sure enough, Mitch, our shaggy-headed stage manager, headed towards us.

  “Wonder what’s up now?” I mused.

  Danny didn’t answer.

  He didn’t answer, because he wasn’t there.

  I looked back in time to see him disappear around the corner of the warehouse of Stage 12. He waved at me as he did.

  “Of course,” I muttered. I wished I’d been the one with the presence of mind to abscond.

  I looked up and saw Mitch again, his eyes locked firmly on me. Too late for that.

  “Hey, Erin,” Mitch said. He wore a forced smile. I braced myself. Whatever he wanted me to do wasn’t pretty.

  I wondered what it could be. Janitorial duties? Probably it, I thought.

  “Hey, boss,” I said. I leaned casually against the edge of a wooden packing crate. A lock of my curly black hair fell across my face so I jutted out my lower lip and blew it back into place.

  “Good job on that last scene. You and Danny are some of the best PAs I’ve…” Mitch started.

  I held up my hand. “You can stop blowing smoke, boss. What do you need?”

  When I wasn’t dealing with Vance, I loved the job. I loved watching a film come together. And I don’t know how to describe how excited I was about seeing my name in the credits at the end.

  It would be one among hundreds, tucked away in a long list that most movie-goers wouldn’t bother to sit around and read. But it meant something to me.

  “Right to the point. I like that,” Mitch said, “We need you to go tell Vance and Linda to get back here ASAP.”

  My lunch, which consisted of an amazing ham sandwich from the craft service table, suddenly wanted to leap out of my throat.

  And the worst part was, it wasn’t all fear. Some part of me still became excited at the prospect of interacting with a real movie star.

  “I… I don’t understand. Don’t they have their own assistants?” I said.

  Mitch shrugged. “Can’t find ‘em. Look, you want to get ahead in this business, you gotta learn to start doing people favors. You do this, I’ll tell Troy. He’ll know your name. That’s worth more than you might think.”

  I flushed at the prospect. This could be it, I thought. My opportunity knocking. An opportunity to stay in sunny SoCal and not move back to the sleepy small town in Maine where I grew up.

  “I’ll get them here,” I said, suddenly happy that Danny ran away before I could.

  I turned to go, but then Mitch put his hand on my shoulder.

  “Hey, kid, don’t let Vance get to you. He’s a prick, but there’s a lot of pricks in this business. If you can work with him, you can
work with anyone. And people notice that sort of thing, too.”

  “Don't worry. I have thick skin,” I said.

  Besides, how bad could it possibly be?

  Famous last words, those. Right up there with, Hey, hold my beer and watch this.

  I made my way over to the trailers, passing by most of the sound stages and sets on the lot. I dodged several golf carts that whirred by, passing a line of women in gruesome zombie makeup smoking outside a set.

  My heart thumped as I thought about what to say. Sweat started up under my shirt, not all of it thanks to the hot the sun. I stopped at an intersection to let another golf cart pass, and my legs trembled.

  Finally, I made it to the corner of the lot where several large and luxurious trailers housed the stars in between takes.

  Vance had the largest one, of course. A huge thing, so white it hurt to look at. Curtains blocked its windows. Music poured out from inside, some club beat meant for dancing.

  I took the two stairs that comprised the stoop in one step. Taking a steadying breath, I tried to ignore the rushing sound of my pulse.

  Be firm. Tell them they’re needed back on set. Invoke the director. The director was God, as far as the movie was concerned. Vance might talk a big game and test just how much slack he could get, but the director could rein him in.

  Especially with all the bad PR Vance had been getting lately. He couldn’t afford to be kicked off the film.

  That gave me some courage. Not much, but enough.

  I lifted my hand to knock.

  Chapter 3


  Linda lay on my bed, sans climbing harness. Soon sans clothes, too. She rolled onto her side, propping her head up with her hand. The pose showed the feminine curves in her body in a way that left me warm, low in my stomach.

  “I was wondering when you were going to ask me to come here,” she said.

  “You were welcome anytime,” I replied. I grabbed a couple Yeunglings from the mini fridge, the narrow brown necks of the bottles slick with condensation between my fingers. “Heads up.”

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