Modern Fairy Tale: Twelve Books of Breathtaking Romance Read online

  It better be Jenna.

  I sling a towel around my waist and walk down the stairs to the door, look through the peephole, and smile when I see Jenna’s sweet face staring back at me.

  Cross-eyed.

  I open the door and watch her jaw drop as her gaze automatically travels from my feet to my eyes. She swallows hard, then takes a sip out of the coffee mug in her hand.

  I wish I was Felicia. She’s always going somewhere.

  I smirk at the funny mug and step back, ushering her in so I can shut the door and cut off the cold air.

  “Sorry for interrupting,” she says as she follows me to the kitchen. “I was about to go to town and thought I’d see if you were around and wanted to join me.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Well, you can’t just be a hermit up here, no matter how pretty it is.” She sits on a stool and sets her mug on the countertop. “I have a couple of errands to run, and I thought we could get a coffee at Drips & Sips. It’s better than Starbucks.”

  “That’s a bold claim,” I reply and soak her in. She’s fucking beautiful, and I’ve seen my fair share of gorgeous women. Touched them. Kissed them.

  Made it look like I was fucking them.

  Hell, I did fuck some of them.

  But I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anyone quite like Jenna. Maybe it’s the gorgeous face, sexy figure, and long, blond hair mixed with the confidence. That doesn’t happen often.

  “Why didn’t you tell your friend that I’m here?” I ask and watch her frown.

  “Because that would be an invasion of privacy.”

  “So?”

  Her brows climb into her hairline, and then she sips her coffee, watching me. “Well, I’m not a jerk. I can’t just advertise who’s staying at my place. That’s not cool. Also, it’s not my business to tell my friends that you’re here.”

  “I met Jacob today,” I inform her and lean on the counter. “He told me you’re a good friend of his wife.”

  “Grace and I are good friends, yes,” she says with a nod. “And I know that she’s a fan of yours.”

  “But you didn’t call her.”

  “Christian.” She takes a deep breath. “Like I said, it’s not my place. If you told me it was okay, I would probably tell her, but I wouldn’t volunteer the information.

  “My brother is Max Hull. You may not know him—”

  “The software genius?”

  She nods.

  “The one who sold his company to Google for like fifteen billion dollars?”

  “I think it was just one billion,” she says with a laugh. “But, yeah, that’s the one. He isn’t famous in the same way you are, but he has his challenges with it, too. And I am fiercely protective of him. I protect all of my clients in the same way. You’re my client. And maybe my friend, but we’ll see.”

  “I like you,” I admit and then narrow my eyes. “Trust isn’t easy.”

  “Not for most of us,” she says with a shrug. “So, you don’t have to join me today. You can tell me to go mind my own business, and you won’t see me again until it’s time to check out of here.”

  “I like you,” I repeat, surprised to find that it’s completely true. What I don’t say is that I’m so fucking attracted to her, it may not be a good idea to hang out together because I want to bend her over this counter, and I’m only here for a month.

  But along with that, I enjoy her company. Her quick wit.

  And she’s not an asshole.

  “Let me get dressed, and I’ll go with you.”

  “Yeah, don’t wear the towel,” she says, rubbing her chin as if she’s thinking it over. “Famous or not, you’d draw a lot of attention, and I forgot to take a security class to keep the women off of you.”

  I smirk and shake my head, walking to the stairs.

  “You’re a smartass, Jenna.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  * * *

  Cunningham Falls is tiny. For a guy who grew up in L.A., it’s the size of a postage stamp. But it’s also quaint and quite beautiful.

  “We have a few stoplights,” Jenna says as she drives us into the heart of downtown. “Main Street is a whole three blocks long, so don’t blink or you’ll miss it.”

  She winks at me, and I want to reach over and tuck her hair behind her ear. So, I do. She glances over at me in surprise and keeps talking.

  “We also have amazing restaurants and fun shops. We are definitely a resort town, but I don’t think it’s cheesy.”

  “It doesn’t look cheesy.”

  “Believe it or not, winter is my least favorite season,” she says as she parks her SUV in front of Drips & Sips and cuts the engine, then turns to me. “I don’t enjoy winter activities as much as I do summer. Construction is difficult in the winter, so much of my business slows down on that front. And, it tends to be long for us here because we sit in a valley so we’re socked in a lot. By February, I’m longing for sunshine.

  “But I can’t deny that it’s beautiful, especially before Christmas.”

  “You should be a tour guide for a living,” I reply, and she laughs.

  “I do know a lot about this town. If you ever have a hankering to know which houses are haunted, and who owns what, I’m your girl.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  We climb out of her vehicle and walk into the coffee shop, and I immediately sweep the area, taking in the number of people, and how many of them look up to see us walk in.

  There are two whose eyes light up when they see me, and I know they recognize me, but to my relief, no one makes any moves to rush over to us.

  Jenna leads me to the counter where she orders a decaf mocha, and I order a chai tea latte. When our order is ready, we find a table in the back of the shop and sit, shedding our coats.

  I sit with my back to the room.

  Jenna smiles and takes a sip of her drink.

  “Do you drink coffee all day?” I ask.

  “Only until about two, and I cut off the caffeine at noon.” She shrugs. “I know it’s not great for me, but it’s my one vice. I don’t drink much, just when I’m with my girlfriends. I don’t spend a million hours on social media. I work, and I drink coffee.”

  “That’s it? No hobbies?”

  “I do like to travel now and again,” she says, then glances down and smiles at her coffee. “Oh, they made a snowflake in the foam.”

  She pulls her phone out and takes a picture, and I tense up. Her gaze whips up to mine.

  “I just took a photo of the coffee.”

  “I know.”

  “I won’t take your photo unless you say it’s okay,” she adds and slips her phone back into her pocket. “You’ve been screwed before, Christian.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “I won’t do that.”

  Her voice is soft and sweet, and everything in me longs to believe her. I just met her yesterday, and I’m pulled to her in ways that surprise me. This doesn’t happen. I don’t let it happen.

  “I hope not,” I reply and take a sip of my tea. She laughs when I pull the cup away. “What?”

  “You have foam on your lip.” She leans over the table and wipes it away with her fingers, and I feel her touch all the way to the pit of my stomach. “There you go.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Do you want to walk around town a bit?” she asks. I don’t want to wander out in the cold. I spent all morning in it. But I also don’t want to go back to the tree house by myself, as stupid as that sounds.

  I don’t want to end the afternoon with her.

  “No.” I shift in my seat. “Is there a movie theater in town?”

  “Of course.” Her eyes widen. “You want to go to the movies?”

  I nod, eager to sit in a dark theater with her, to watch magic happen on the screen as she sits next to me, munching on popcorn.

  “Which one?”

  “Any one.”

  She immediately pulls her phone out again and scrolls around for a mom
ent, and I can’t help but watch her fingers, remembering how they felt on my mouth.

  I’m not going to be able to keep my hands off of her for long.

  She checks the time. “They’re playing the new Star Wars movie in thirty minutes.”

  “Let’s do it. Unless you had other plans?”

  “Nope. I like the movies.” She smiles, almost shyly, and I can’t help but reach over and smooth a lock of hair behind her ear again.

  “Me, too.” I stand, gather our empty cups, and wink at her. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Three

  Jenna

  “Hi,” Christian says to the young woman selling tickets at our small theater. Her brown eyes widen, and I think she might have just swallowed her tongue.

  “Are you?” she stutters.

  “Nah,” Christian replies but then winks at her. She blushes. “Two for Star Wars, please.”

  She just nods and takes his cash, hands over the change, and then the poor thing walks over to the concessions counter to continue waiting on us.

  “Are you sure?” she asks and bites her lip.

  Christian just laughs and shakes his head. “I’ll take a large popcorn and a bottle of water. How about you?” he asks me.

  “Are you going to share your popcorn?”

  “Absolutely not,” he replies.

  “A small one for me, then.” I laugh and slip my hand through his arm, just in support. He glances down at me and smiles softly. It’s interesting to watch his face harden in front of strangers when they recognize him and soften when he looks at me.

  Is this what his life is?

  “Would you like a drink?”

  I blink, pulling myself out of my thoughts. “A diet Coke, please.”

  It’s a quiet afternoon at our theater, which is good for us. We have our pick of seats when we walk into the auditorium, and Christian leads me halfway up and to the middle.

  “This is the best spot,” he says with a happy smile.

  “I’m surprised you want to go to the movies.” I sit beside him and take a bite of popcorn.

  “Why?”

  “It’s like someone who works at McDonald’s doesn’t want to eat at McDonald’s. They get sick of it.”

  “Not me.” He shovels a handful of kernels into his mouth and chews loudly, making me giggle. “Love this.”

  “You’re disgusting.”

  He opens his mouth, showing me his food, and I throw a piece of popcorn at his face, hitting him in the nose.

  “Thanks,” he says, plucking the kernel from his shirt and popping it into his mouth, smiling as he chews. “What’s your favorite movie?”

  “Steel Magnolias,” I reply immediately, and he scowls at me. “What?”

  “That’s your favorite?”

  “Pink is my signature color,” I reply with a deep southern accent. “It’s a classic.”

  “Hmm. I might have to rethink this entire relationship.”

  “Okay, movie expert,”—that earns me a smug smile—“what’s your favorite?”

  He sighs and shoves another handful of popcorn into his mouth, thinking it over. God, he’s something to write home about. That square jaw, the way his hair curls slightly over his earlobe. His muscular shoulders in that sweatshirt.

  Sitting this close to him is bad for my libido.

  “Holiday Inn,” he says at last, and to say I’m surprised is an understatement.

  “With Fred Astaire?”

  “Yep.” More popcorn is stuffed into his mouth.

  “Why?”

  He shrugs and takes a sip of his water. “Because the dancing is amazing. Old movies are magical. Innocent in a way. The talent is just out of this world. I can’t imagine the number of choreography hours they invested.”

  I turn in my seat to watch him. I’ve seen him dance on screen. Christian is talented in his own right.

  “You’re a good dancer.”

  He glances down at his popcorn. “Thanks. I enjoy it. I’ve always enjoyed everything about musical theater, the singing, the dancing. I trained for a lot of years.”

  “It shows.”

  “And I’m lucky that it comes pretty naturally to me.”

  “You are lucky. I have zero rhythm.”

  He scoffs and takes another drink of his water. “I don’t believe that. Everyone has rhythm. We just have to find it.”

  I feel my eyes widen and shake my head. “I’m not dancing with you.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “No.”

  “Come on.” He nudges my shoulder with his. I look up into happy, blue eyes. “You’re among friends.”

  Thankfully, the previews start, and I’m saved by darkness and advertising. We are the only ones here, in the dark, and the screen is a riot of color as we chew on our popcorn and enjoy the show.

  I can’t help but glance over at Christian and enjoy the emotion rolling over his face. His eyes never leave the screen. He’s soaking it all in.

  An alien jumps across the screen and I startle, letting out a squeak. Christian laughs and rests his hand on my thigh, patting me gently.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, damn alien.”

  He laughs again, and we’re lost in the story once more. When his popcorn is gone, he reaches into my bag for a handful, brushing his fingers against mine.

  Jesus, I feel the intensity of his touch down to the pit of my stomach. How can a simple touch ignite every nerve ending in my body?

  And why does he smell so damn good?

  I simply pass him the bag. I’m finished with it anyway, and I can’t have him touching me like that. He has a damn girlfriend.

  We’re just friends.

  Actually, we’re acquaintances. He’s a client. I’m a tour guide.

  But damn, it doesn’t suck to hang out with him.

  And it has nothing at all to do with his celebrity status. He’s funny. And sexy as hell. If he lived here and didn’t have a girlfriend, I would ask him out.

  I sigh, determined to focus on the movie and not on the irresistible man to my right.

  When the credits finish rolling, we gather our trash and leave the theater, and once we’re in my car, I turn to him.

  “What did you think?”

  “I’m still processing,” he replies. “And I think you should have dinner with me so we can discuss it further.”

  I cock an eyebrow. “Are you asking me to dinner?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because it sounded like a statement.”

  “Will you please have dinner with me?” He bats his thick, dark eyelashes and I can’t help but laugh. I put the car in gear and pull away.

  “Yes. As long as you’re not tired of me.”

  “Definitely not. Maybe I’ll get a couple of drinks in you and talk you into dancing with me.”

  “Not gonna happen.”

  No way, no how.

  He just shrugs and watches the town pass by as we drive toward the mountain.

  “What should we have for dinner?” I ask him.

  “Not picky,” he says.

  “I have salmon and salad stuff in the fridge in the Ponderosa,” I say, thinking aloud. “I think that’s the last of my groceries up there.”

  “Do you live there full-time?”

  “No, I’ve just been staying there for the past week or so, selfishly enjoying it now that the units are finished. I have a place in town.”

  He nods.

  “Do you want to see it?”

  “Your place? Sure.”

  I turn the corner and drive to my little house that’s tucked away in an older neighborhood in town. I love it.

  “I see my brother Brad came by to shovel,” I comment as I pull into the garage and cut the engine. “Come on in.”

  Christian follows me into the house, walking close behind me. I can feel the heat of him.

  I have permanent goosebumps from this man.

  I flip on the lights in the mudroom, and then the kitchen.

&nb
sp; “This is really great,” he says, looking around the space. “You’ve remodeled.”

  “Of course, I have,” I say with a laugh. “It’s what I do. The house has been completely renovated, inside and out. But the original structure was built in 1904.”

  He glances over in surprise. “Wow, it doesn’t look that old.”

  “I know.” I sigh and rub my palm over the molding surrounding the doorway to the living room. “It did when I bought it. I had to replace the plumbing, the electrical, the roof. I did salvage the floors.”

  I glance up to see him watching me, his face completely sober. His hands are in his pockets, and he looks…delicious.

  “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

  “It’s your passion,” he says simply, and I nod.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Your face lights up when you’re talking about your projects,” he says and slowly walks toward me. I’m caught up in his eyes, unable to walk away. He stops about two feet in front of me and lifts his hand, drags his knuckles down my cheek. “You’re a beautiful woman, Jenna Hull.”

  I swallow, my cheek buzzing from his touch. His eyes are on my lips now, and I instinctively lick them.

  “Damn it,” he mutters before he cups my face and neck in his hands. His lips are suddenly on mine, smooth and sure, taking me from quiet yearning to blazing fire in one-point-six seconds.

  I grip his sides as he devours me. He nibbles the corner of my mouth, then plunders again as if he’s memorizing every inch of me.

  And, suddenly, a voice in my head reminds me.

  He has a girlfriend.

  I pull back, panting, wanting, and stare up at him as he also tries to catch his breath.

  “Christian.” He makes a move to go in for round two, and I press my hand to his chest. “No.”

  He stops immediately and pulls away, taking his hands completely off of me.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to start anything you’re not comfortable with. I thought we were on the same page.”

  I push my hand through my hair and turn away to pace back to the kitchen.

  “Oh, we’re on the same page.”

  “Then what—?”

  “You have a girlfriend,” I blurt out and turn back to him, holding my hands out at my sides. “You’re splashed all over every cover of every magazine, Christian. And I’m not the girl who poaches another woman’s guy.”