“To my living quarters. If you don’t mind, I’d like to eat my dinner in solitude.” And in peace and quiet.
He grabs a couple of fries. “That’s not going to work. We need to make this a working meal. I have a lot of catching up to do. Now take a seat.”
“Are you going to pay me overtime?”
“Yes.” His voice borders on a growl. “Now, please take a seat.”
Well, at least he said please. I search for a good place to sit, the farther away from him the better. I head toward a corner chair. His voice stops me in my tracks.
“No. I want you to sit next to me. There’s a lot to go over.”
Grrr. Reluctantly, I meander back to the couch and plop down on the leather cushion beside him, curling up in a cross-legged position. He stretches his long legs out on the coffee table in front of us. My knee brushes against his rock-hard thigh and my eyes glimpse the sizeable package between his legs. It’s quite a chunk of meat. My hunger consumes me. I take a bite of my pathetic burger.
“What exactly do you have in mind?” I ask after swallowing. The Protein Burger isn’t as bad as I thought. It’s pretty juicy.
“I thought we’d screen some episodes of my show, mainly from this past season.”
My insides light up. I love Kurt Kussler and could totally binge on it. I’ve been watching the series since the day it premiered. I’ve seen every episode a dozen times and, with my crazy memory, know many of them by heart. When I found out from the job recruiter that I’d be working for the superstar, I practically drove my car off a cliff. I should have. Little did I know at the time what I had in store.
“Sure,” I say casually, masking my excitement as he presses the remote with one of his long tapered fingers. Just like the rest of him, his hands are beautiful, sculpted works of art. The action-packed opening credit sequence set to the pulsing theme song instantly plays on the built-in big screen TV. A fast-paced montage of memorable clips culled from various episodes, each ending with Kurt in a sexy pose. Kurt Kussler is hot. So scorching hot. My heartbeat speeds up and a heat wave melts my entire being. I feel like the deconstructing Wicked Witch of the West. All hot molten liquid.
Brandon presses a button on the remote and the opening credits speed up.
“What are you doing?” I yell.
“Fast forwarding. We don’t need to waste time.”
“Stop! I love the opening credits.” I snatch the remote from him and slow down the credits to normal speed just in time to see Kurt do his signature line at the end. Lunging, he aims his big gun straight ahead and says:
“Get it. Got it? Good.” I say the words with him.
Brandon gives me an odd look as Kurt pulls the trigger and a loud BOOM! fills the room. I gasp. There’s something about Kurt holding that big gun and looking directly into the camera with those fierce violet eyes that makes my heart ricochet out of my chest every time.
“Are you okay?” asks my companion.
Is it that obvious I’m totally in love with Kurt Kussler? Just like every woman in the world. “Yes,” I pant out and then chomp into my burger to satisfy my carnal craving.
“Have some fries,” he orders after I gulp it down. He holds out the bag.
Without losing eye contact with the TV, I lose my willpower and dig in. God, they’re good. Crispy and lightly salted. Worth every sinful calorie.
The opening credits segue right into the episode. Holy moly! It’s one of my favorites. The one in which Kurt doesn’t know he’s standing right next to The Locust, Alisha’s killer.
Every inch of me clenches while my eyes stay glued to the TV. Oh God! The way he swaggers in those tight jeans! Snarls his lush lips! Smolders his violet eyes! Every word that comes out of Kurt’s mouth sets my body on fire. The suspense is killing me. I gasp when the disguised assassin almost runs him off a cliff. Kurt can’t die! And then toward the end, up comes my favorite scene of all—a flashback to Kurt and Alisha’s nuptials. The perfect church wedding, the beautiful, happy couple surrounded by loved ones. My heart pounds madly. I just hope the sound of the TV drowns it out so Brandon doesn’t hear it. I glance at him. He’s into it as much as I am. I can tell by the intense, unblinking expression on his face. I return my attention to the TV. Thanks to my eidetic memory, I know every line.
The Pastor: “Do you, Kurt Kussler, promise to love and cherish this woman for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”
Kurt: “I do, sir. I will love, cherish, and protect her forever.”
Oh my God! The passion in his sultry voice! The love and lust in his eyes!
The pastor asks Alisha the same question. She holds Kurt in her impassioned gaze, whispers her vow, and finally says, “until death do us part.”
I softly say the words with her. Tears well up in my eyes. Knowing the cruel fate that awaits Alisha, her vow gets me every single time. By the time they embrace (oh, what a kiss!), tears are streaming down my cheeks and I’m heaving.
Brandon turns to me. “Jeez Louise. What’s the matter?”
My tear-stained lips are quivering. Words are trapped in my throat. Snot is dripping from my nose. I’m a blubbering mess.
Finally, I get my mouth to move. “It’s so sad. I can’t take it,” I splutter as the show fades to black and the closing credits come on. “He’s going to lose her!”
Brandon turns the TV off and hands me a paper napkin. “Here. Blow your nose.”
I gratefully take the napkin from him and put it to my face. I honk into it.
“Thanks,” I stammer, totally embarrassed.
“It’s just make-believe.”
I sniff. “I know, but still…”
Brandon’s eyes don’t leave mine. “You like my show?”
Duh! “I love it! I love you!” Gah! “I mean, I love Kurt Kussler.”
His brows lift. “Really?”
“Totally,” I say convincingly, moving past my slip-up.
“What makes him appealing?”
He seriously doesn’t know? He must have major brain damage. “Isn’t it obvious?” I ask, my tears subsiding.
He draws in a sharp breath. “With this damn amnesia, nothing’s obvious.”
Obviously. So, I tell him.
“First of all, he’s sexy as sin—”
He cuts me off. “You think I’m sexy—”
I cut him off. His pending question unnerves me. “No!” Big fat liar. “Kurt’s sexy as sin.”
The conceited egomaniac looks a little deflated. “What makes him sexy?”
“He may think with his cock like most men, but he’s ruled by his heart.”
Clueless Brandon screws up his face. “What do you mean by that?”
“He’s damaged but so passionate. I mean, just look at his abiding love for his wife, Alisha. He won’t stop until he finds her killer.”
Brandon is all ears, listening intently. I continue.
“Every woman wants a Kurt Kussler to love, protect, and cherish her.”
“Yes, don’t we all.” A sardonic breathy voice enters the room. I look up. My stomach churns. It’s Katrina. The temperature in the room drops ten degrees as the willowy blonde stomps toward us in her gazillion dollar stilettos.
“Well, if it isn’t little Miss Chubster.”
My boiling blood heats my skin. “Hi. Nice to see you again too.”
I remember the first time I met her. I thought she was here for a business meeting with Brandon and Scott. She acted like I was invisible and then had the nerve to tell me to take her Mercedes for a car wash. As if I were her servant. I told her to take a hike—no pun intended—and pissed her off royally. Until I started seeing pictures of them together online and in various tabloids, I had no idea they were romantically involved. And truthfully, knowing Brandon’s reputation as a player, I thought it was just another casual hook-up. His latest conquest. You can only imagine my shock when I learned of their engagement—the news broke just hours after Brandon’s horrible accident. It was bad enough that the gorgeous man I worshipped was lying in a coma but then to find out he was engaged sent my emotions into a tailspin. I cried for hours, knowing that even if he lived, I was losing him to America’s It Girl.