Hold Me Until Morning Read online

  With fake nonchalance she placed her carryall and case on the end of the antiqued brass framed double bed and pulled off her sunglasses. “No. I bought a few things at a couple of auctions last month and had them delivered here. This is kind of like my secret project.”

  So secret, even her mom didn’t know about it.

  At least she’d bought two beds in that last lot she bid on. Somehow she couldn’t see Cooper getting comfortable for the night on the charming, overstuffed loveseat she’d acquired for the front room.

  He strolled to the French doors, leaned one hand against the doorframe, and surveyed the view. Paris checked out his delectably tight butt encased in faded denim.

  This week was going to kill her.

  Cooper stared through the glass, but it wasn’t the overgrown back yard or the hazy, blue-tinged mountains in the distance that captured his attention. Because his attention was all tangled up by the gorgeous green of Paris’s eyes when she’d pulled off her shades.

  Fuck, he needed to get out of this room. All he could think about was that bed. And Paris.

  Concentrate. What were they talking about? “You went basic for a weekend retreat.”

  “Not really a five-star hotel, huh?”

  He watched her ghostlike reflection in the glass as she opened the designer carryall she’d dropped onto the bed. Get back to business.

  “Scott wasn’t clear about the extent of my duties. Do they include bringing you breakfast in bed each morning?”

  Why doesn’t my big mouth ever listen to my brain?

  “Yes, I definitely expect breakfast in bed each morning. And don’t forget the freshly squeezed orange juice.”

  He swung round to face her. “You bring a juicer with you?”

  For a moment she stared at him. It was obvious she had absolutely no idea whether he was pulling her chain or serious, and while he’d been kidding about the whole breakfast thing, he was starting to change his mind.

  “No, but there might be one in the kitchen. I had a box of stuff delivered a couple of days ago.”

  That must have been when Scott had called him and said Paris was exhausted and needed a break. According to the online gossip, she’d collapsed on set. Until now, it hadn’t occurred to him to question it.

  But if that was the real reason, wouldn’t she be better off in some luxury retreat where she wouldn’t have to lift a finger? Something didn’t add up.

  “So what’s with—” The words died in his throat as she pulled off her hair.

  She tossed the black wig onto the bed and shook her head, and her familiar red-gold curls tumbled over her shoulders. She plunged her fingers through her hair and gave it a good ruffle.

  He stared at her, transfixed. She looked as though she’d just been thoroughly fucked.

  Why the hell had he offered to bring her breakfast in bed? He was asking for trouble. Why couldn’t she have been the spoiled brat he’d been expecting?

  She let out a blissful sigh that didn’t help the state of his erection at all, and looked at him. “What? Did you think that was my real hair?”

  He hadn’t thought about it at all, except to think it didn’t look anything like her. “Guess it works,” he conceded. “But I prefer your natural look.”

  “Flatterer.” There was a mocking note in her voice, but she didn’t look pissed off by his remark. “Just so you know, I’m immune to all that crap. It won’t get you anywhere.”

  “Babe, I’m wounded you think I’m just trying to flatter you.” He slammed his fist against his heart in the hope of detracting attention from his unruly cock. Not that she appeared the least bit interested in checking him out there. “I’m telling you the truth. No strings—or crap—attached.”

  She laughed. “That’s a change. Okay then. Thank you.” She gave an elaborate curtsey. “Babe.”

  “You don’t like me calling you babe?” He seriously needed to get out of this room while he was still capable of walking straight, but the smile on her face and the flirty glitter in her eyes were just too damn irresistible. “How about honeybee? Or sweetie-pie? Got to call you something when we’re out in public.”

  “How about I call you my cuddly bunny?”

  “I’m not the one going undercover.”

  She sighed. “Fine. Babe it is, but the point is to not draw any attention our way in the first place. So the less we actually say in public the better.”

  It wasn’t worth telling her she would turn heads no matter what disguise she tried to hide behind. There was just something about her that made you take a second look.

  “I won’t let you say a word. You can count on me.”

  Instead of her laughing again, a strange, pensive expression crossed her face, and then she raked her gaze over his body, and lingered on his crotch.

  Heat seared through him. Fuck, he was not blushing. No girl had made him blush in living memory, and he definitely wasn’t starting now. He strolled with pained indifference toward the door but had an absolute certainty that Paris’s gaze never wavered from his butt.

  A long week? It was going to be a long fucking day.

  Chapter Two

  A persistent knocking penetrated Paris’s sleep-bound mind, and she squinted at her cell. What the hell? It was only seven in the morning. She rolled onto her back and pulled the sheet over her head. It was way too bright.

  Then reality hit her.

  She wasn’t at home. She was in her cabin. The only other person here was Cooper.

  And he was knocking on her door.

  She shot upright and dragged her hand through her hair. Ever since he’d caught her staring at his package yesterday afternoon, she’d hardly been able to look him in the eye. It hadn’t been too hard to keep out of his way, since she’d had to unpack. And when she’d driven to the local town for provisions, she had put her favorite rock band on full blast, which kind of killed any conversation stone dead.

  It appeared Cooper had no intention of taking the hint and keeping his distance. Was it possible he hadn’t seen her checking him out?

  I wasn’t checking him out. Her gaze had just sort of…slipped.

  Besides, it wasn’t as though he’d been entirely uninterested. Even now, hours later, the memory of his obvious erection straining against his jeans was enough to take her breath away.

  “Hey, Paris.” His sinfully sexy voice from the other side of the door was enough to cause goose bumps to chase over her bare arms. “You awake?”

  Of course she was awake. She would have to be dead to sleep through the racket he was making.

  “What do you want?” She sounded grouchy. She always sounded grouchy in the morning before her first cup of coffee.

  “Open the door.” It sounded like he gave it a kick. “Or I can come in. You decent?”

  She stared at the door in disbelief. He really couldn’t take a hint. On the plus side, perhaps it meant he hadn’t seen her drooling yesterday. Come to think of it, she wasn’t sure why she felt so awkward. If anything, he was the one who should be embarrassed. And clearly he wasn’t.

  “Yes, I’m decent.” But as the door opened, panic hit her. Nobody ever saw her first thing in the morning, before she’d even had time to wipe the sleep from her eyes. Image was everything. She’d had that drummed into her from the moment she’d signed her first contract at the age of twelve. Even Hudson fucking Bartholomew, the supposed love of her life, had only ever seen her once before she’d had the chance to make herself look presentable.

  The look on his face had been more than enough to convince her that guys simply didn’t want to see her looking like her normal rumpled self. Even after spending the night with her. Even if they supposedly loved her more than life itself, all they really wanted was the image.

  It was too late to stop Cooper coming in now. She tugged the sheet up to her chin. She wasn’t sure why. The sleeveless cotton top she wore covered a lot more than some of the skimpy things she’d had to wear as Lola over the last couple of years, and unle
ss she pulled the sheet over her head she hadn’t exactly hidden herself.

  Cooper entered the room carrying a tray. He’d brought her breakfast in bed? Seriously?

  With a flourish he placed the tray across her lap. There was a plate of pancakes, a quarter glass of orange juice and—thank God—a mug of coffee.

  “There was no juicer,” he said as he sat at the end of her bed as if this was a perfectly normal morning for them both. “I had to hand-squeeze those oranges.”

  She looked back down at the glass before he could see the stunned disbelief in her eyes. She hadn’t thought twice when he’d bought the bag of oranges yesterday. He’d bought them so she could have freshly squeezed orange juice?

  He really was taking his bodyguard duties above and beyond.

  She cleared her throat. “I didn’t know you could cook.” He was built, he was sexy as hell, and he could cook. Did he have a girlfriend?

  “Yeah, I can cook.” He sounded amused that she might think otherwise. Would he find it funny when he discovered she didn’t have a clue when it came to the kitchen? They’d ordered takeout yesterday and brought it home to eat. She’d planned to survive on fruit and salad. He didn’t look as though he could survive on salad.

  “Well, thanks.” The aroma of the coffee made her fingers twitch. She couldn’t live without her coffee and had brought her own machine with her. “Aren’t you having any?”

  He grinned. His hair looked damp and a shower fresh scent vied with the coffee for her attention. What time had he gotten up?

  He looked good enough to eat. She dragged her fingers through her hair again, and by the feel of things she had a horrific case of bedhead. Inside she cringed—until she forcibly reminded herself that he was highly unlikely to take a photo of her looking like a witch and sell it to the highest bidder.

  Of course he won’t. He was Scott’s best friend. Even so…

  “I’ve already eaten. I thought I’d let you sleep in for a while.”

  He called seven a.m. on a non-work day sleeping in? With difficulty, she untangled her fingers from her hair and attempted to find some dignity. “Thank you.”

  She waited for him to take the hint and leave. Instead, he leaned back against the brass rails at the foot of her bed. Did he intend to watch her eat? Nerves spiked in the pit of her stomach as she picked up her cup and took a reviving gulp of coffee.

  “No problem.”

  She peered at him over her steaming cup and tried to unscramble her brain. She looked hideous first thing in the morning, but this didn’t appear to bother him. Of course, she hadn’t just spent the night with him, which might account for it. On the other hand, there was a definite spark between them, which meant he found her hot.

  At least, he’d found her hot yesterday when he’d brought her luggage in. She refused to let her gaze slip southwards now. Not that she’d see anything in any case, given the way he was sitting.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and almost managed to convince herself the heat coursing through her was due entirely to the coffee flooding her system and absolutely nothing to do with Cooper Grayson and his dimple.

  Cooper couldn’t tear his gaze away from Paris. He’d known it was a mistake, bringing her breakfast in bed, but he’d set himself up to the dare, and thought he could handle it.

  Seeing her in bed, all messy-haired and sleepy-eyed, was giving him ideas that only belonged in the dead of night. Was it because he knew she was strictly off-limits? He’d found other girls hot before now without following through into a wild night of frenzied fucking.

  Hadn’t he?

  Whatever. None of them had been the sister of a friend, and when Scott had called last night, checking that everything was okay, he’d been forcibly reminded of that.

  Not that it made much difference. Even if she hadn’t been Scott’s sister, and he hadn’t been hired to protect her this week, she was way out of his league.

  She was giving him a wary look. He could either leave her to eat, which was the rational option, or continue this weird-ass conversation.

  He’d never been one for rational. In any case, there was something that had been bugging him ever since Scott had asked for this favor.

  “If you wanted to buy a place to get away from it all, why’d you pick somewhere so close to home?”

  Her nose twitched. He couldn’t figure out whether it was because of his question or the steam from the coffee.

  “It’s easy to drive here if I just want to get away without flying somewhere.”

  As she spoke, her fingers tightened around the sheet she still held. Why was she clutching it to her throat like that? Christ, she wasn’t naked was she?

  His dick stirred. Fuck, he hadn’t been this horny since he was a teenager. It didn’t help knowing she felt the same way.

  At least, that’s what he’d thought when she’d given him that sexy once over yesterday afternoon. Then she’d gone all frosty for the rest of the day, barely answering him when he’d spoken and acting as though they didn’t know each other in the grocery store. He hadn’t managed to squeeze in a single babe. As soon as they’d arrived back at the cabin, she’d plugged in her earphones to eat their takeout before disappearing into her room.

  It was only now, as he saw the defensive way she clutched both her mug and her sheet, that an entirely different thought occurred to him. Heat seared through him. Fuck. She didn’t think he was trying to hit on her, did she?

  He had to clear things up with her. He racked his brain to come up with something completely ordinary to say, with no sexual overtones at all. Surprisingly, the answer came to him without any trouble.

  “Since we’re here for the week I can do some work in the yard for you. Might as well earn my keep.” He offered her a mocking smile. Scott had insisted he pay his going rate, even though Cooper had told him where he could stuff the money. In the end, Scott had been persuaded to accept a discount, but it still stung.

  Paris blinked her long, black lashes. His grim determination to look at her as nothing more than a kid sister died in a blaze of despicable lust. “Some work in the yard?” she echoed, as though she had no idea what he was talking about.

  “It’s a mess. When I’m not fighting off the paparazzi, I’ll give it a makeover.”

  She still appeared to be having trouble processing his comment.

  “But why would you want to do that? I’m pretty sure that’s not part of the job description Scott gave you.”

  “What’s that got to do with it? You’re like the little sister I never had. Can’t a brother help out without getting grilled?”

  That was his cue to leave her bedroom, but before he could put his escape plan into action, a delicate blush spread over her cheeks. It stopped him in his tracks.

  “Okay.” Her voice sounded strangled. She dropped her gaze to her plate of rapidly cooling pancakes. “I hadn’t planned on starting on the yard yet, but why not? I have some ideas for it. If you’re sure you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind getting down and dirty for you.” Well, shit. Why couldn’t he ever think before he opened his big mouth? Sure, the comment could be taken to mean nothing more than backyard mud. Except the way she licked her lips and still refused to meet his gaze told him she’d instantly jumped to a different conclusion.

  You wish.

  “I’ll see what I can come up with.” Her voice was husky, and so damn sexy that all his good intentions gave him the bird and flew through the door.

  Bringing her breakfast in bed hadn’t been one of his best ideas. He wouldn’t be doing it again. With difficulty, he eased himself off her bed.

  “Look forward to it.” As he reached the door, he couldn’t resist glancing over his shoulder. She was looking at him, and there was no hint of the ice princess from the previous evening. Instead she smiled at him, and he didn’t know whether it was because her hair was all messy and she still had a sleepy glow about her, but that smile kicked him right in the gut.

  He closed the d
oor and leaned against it as he took a deep breath. No way was he entering her bedroom again until it was time to move her luggage. He just hoped taming the jungle she called a backyard would leave him so exhausted that by the time he fell into bed, all he’d be good for would be passing out.

  Like that was going to happen.

  Chapter Three

  Paris peered into the small mirror in the bathroom. It was steamed up, like the rest of the room, and she rubbed a circle clear with a corner of her towel.

  Her mom would pitch a fit if she saw how basic this bathroom was. The shower had run hot and cold at random intervals, and only as she stepped out from the shower had she noticed the large spider that had been watching her from the ceiling.

  She’d nearly screamed before she realized Cooper would probably break down the door to see what had happened. For some reason she didn’t want him to know she was scared of creepy crawly things. And I really don’t want him seeing me dripping wet from the shower. She eyed the spider. It didn’t look as though it was about to pounce on her.

  Of course, she hadn’t planned to actually stay at the cabin until it was all done up. She’d bought it so she’d have a little getaway within easy reach of Beverly Hills, but without being in the spotlight.

  But when the perfect opportunity to tell her mom she needed time on her own to think had dropped into her lap—more like burned her eyeballs, ugh—who was she to complain about a little hardship? Her mom had been so mortified at being caught in the act with Paris’s last bodyguard, Anson, she’d hardly raised a word of protest.

  Paris tried to block the vision from her mind. It was bad enough to discover her mom still had sex. It was pretty horrifying to know her mom had been screwing her bodyguard.

  But all of that faded into insignificance at the actual sight of the pair of them going at it like desperate eighteen-year-olds. There should be a law against it or something.

  She pulled a disgusted face at her reflection. The affair had been top secret. Not even her brother knew about it, and Scott knew about most things that went on at home. Since he’d been telling her for over a year that she needed to sort out her head, he’d been only too happy to help her misdirect their mom so she could escape for a few days.