One Wild Night Read online

  One Wild Night

  A.L. Jackson

  Rebecca Shea

  Contents

  Copyright

  1. Kaylee

  2. Paxton

  3. Kaylee

  4. Paxton

  5. Kaylee

  6. Paxton

  7. Kaylee

  8. Paxton

  9. Kaylee

  10. Paxton

  11. Kaylee

  12. Paxton

  13. Kaylee

  14. Paxton

  15. Kaylee

  16. Paxton

  17. Kaylee

  18. Paxton

  19. Kaylee

  Epilogue

  Show Me the Way

  Prologue

  1. Rynna

  2. Rex

  3. Rynna

  4. Rex

  5. Rynna

  Fault Lines

  Prologue

  1. Present Day

  2. Frances

  3. Cole

  4. Frankie

  About A.L. Jackson

  About Rebecca Shea

  Also by A.L. Jackson

  Also by Rebecca Shea

  Copyright © 2018 A.L. Jackson Books Inc. & Rebecca Shea Author LLC

  First Edition

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the publisher.

  A.L. Jackson

  www.aljacksonauthor.com

  Rebecca Shea

  www.rebeccasheaauthor.com

  Cover Design by RBA Designs

  Editing by Kara Hildebrand at KLH Consulting

  Formatting by Mesquite Business Services

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Names, characters, places, and plots are a product of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Print ISBN: 978-1-946420-11-4

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-946420-12-1

  Chapter 1

  Kaylee

  “Please tell me you’re joking.”

  “Um…because this is a laughing matter?”

  I almost laughed. Not because I was amused. Oh no. I was not.

  More like horrified.

  Because here I was, sitting in a limo. Alone. Staring out the window at the red carpet that loomed ahead. A red carpet littered with celebrities who milled around like it was commonplace and not some kind of alternate universe.

  Somebody kill me now.

  I pressed my cell a little harder to my ear, head beginning to shake as my stomach flopped with nerves. “Are you crazy? There is no way I’m going in there by myself.”

  “Oh, come on, Kaylee. It’s not any different than going to the movies on a Friday night.”

  Elle’s voice took on that casual tone she used whenever she wanted to get her way, the words missing the frantic edge they’d held when she’d first called me to tell me she wasn’t coming.

  To her father’s directorial premiere.

  Okay. So, it wasn’t his first movie. Eleanor Ward had grown up in Hollywood, her father directing and producing some low-budget, albeit freaking fantastic movies. There was hardly any shame in that.

  But this…this was the big one, an A-list cast and a budget to match.

  So yeah. It was a Friday night.

  And I was at the movies.

  But come on. Who was she kidding? We both knew there was absolutely no comparison.

  “Don’t do that,” I hissed.

  “Don’t do what?” she returned, all kinds of innocent.

  “That thing you do. Where you act like nothing is a big deal when you know as well as I do it’s a really big deal.”

  Exasperation blew through the words.

  Ugh.

  Elle.

  She just had this way about her, always going about life as if nothing in the world mattered. Everything a game. No consequences or feelings or fears involved.

  Easy.

  It was as if she held the entire world in the palm of her hand. Every room she walked into, she owned. Every conversation, she commanded.

  All of it with a flick of her hand and a twitch of her smile.

  Magnetic.

  I’d recognized her type the second she waltzed into the dorm we’d shared our freshman year at UCLA.

  Gorgeous.

  Spoiled.

  Rich.

  Sucking on a silver spoon when I’d worked my fingers to the bone for every scholarship I could possibly win. She had been subjected to dorm life because her daddy wanted her to experience real life, sent to slum it up with the common folk for an entire year.

  Poor thing.

  But I soon discovered beneath all that entitlement was a girl who would drop it all on a dime for those she cared about. Without a second thought.

  So maybe we were polar opposites, but it didn’t take long for us to become attached at the hip.

  That was ten years ago.

  In all that time, she’d never let me down.

  Not until today.

  “Please, Kaylee,” she whispered, and that desperation was weaving its way back in. “I already hate that I’m doing this to Daddy. Both of us can’t not show. He’ll be devastated.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And this is important.”

  What could be so important that she wasn’t here?

  I pressed the heel of my hand to my eye, probably messing up the thick liner and black mascara I’d spent way too much time fretting over. “I don’t understand how you could do this to me or to him. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “I’ll explain it all later. I just...” There was rustling in the background, muffled voices, before her attention came back to me. “I have to go. Just…please do this for me. Please, Kay Kay?”

  I could almost see her big, brown puppy dog eyes pleading from across the space.

  Wherever the hell that was.

  Surrender.

  It was there in my sigh.

  “Fine. But you owe me big.”

  She gushed in relief. “I know. I know. Anything, and it’s yours. Tell Daddy I love him, and I’m really sorry. I’m sure he’ll be over to kick my ass in the morning.”

  “You know he will.”

  The limo, the one Elle had sent for me, mind you, after she’d begged and pleaded and convinced me that I had to be here with her, inched forward. She’d been adamant that I couldn’t miss this, that I was family, and it didn’t matter that I didn’t belong here at all.

  And here I was.

  Nervous energy prickled across every inch of my exposed skin as the attendant opened the door, that red carpet now right at my awkward feet.

  I sucked in a breath and pasted on a fake smile, praying I could pull this off.

  One night.

  I could do this.

  I could pretend as if I didn’t wobble on my five-inch heels as I stepped out into the night. Pretend I felt confident in this over-the-top, super-sexy dress with the slit running all the way to the top of my thigh. One I’d borrowed from Elle because God knew I couldn’t afford it on my kindergarten teacher salary. Pretend the flashes of cameras didn’t blind my eyes.

  I kept my head down as I moved forward.

  “Julianne. Julianne Hough. Over here.”

  Um. What?

  Wide-eyed, I looked back over my shoulder. Yeah. Not so much.

  I bit back a cringe when the reporter, one whose face I’d seen plastered too many times on my TV because Elle was addicted to celebrity TV, mouthed, “Oh sorry,” and turned away in favor of someone much more interesting.

  God.

/>   Could anything be more humiliating?

  I had the urge to kick off my heels and run. Cower and hide and slink into my safe little world where I’d be curled up on my couch with a glass of wine and a good book.

  I glanced to the right.

  A hundred feet ahead, the darkened double doors of the theater teased me with the promise of its sanctuary. All I had to do was make it inside unnoticed. I’d slip in, be present for Elle’s father, Roger Ward, who was one of the nicest guys I knew, and then as soon as the credits rolled, I’d get the hell out of Dodge.

  I tucked my chin to my chest, eyes trained on my feet, my uncoordinated, clumsy, strides just short of a run.

  Just get inside. Just get inside.

  A gasp of shocked air shot from me when I slammed into a wall.

  A very, very hard wall.

  A wall made up of flesh and muscle, and my feet were sliding out from under me as I went reeling back. Strong hands darted out, cinched around my upper arms to keep me from falling, drawing me up close.

  So, so close.

  I had the sudden, overwhelming urge to bury my nose deeper into that big wall of chest because it just smelled so damned good.

  Or maybe I only wanted to bury my face in it, so I’d fall in and completely disappear. Because this had to rank up there as one of the most mortifying moments of my entire life, second only to the time my shorts caught on the slide in fourth grade and they split right up the middle.

  Warily, I peeked up at my savior.

  Breath gone.

  Eyes wide.

  Stomach a mixed-up pool of desire and embarrassment on the floor.

  An earth-shattering smile full of bright white teeth had my heart rate shifting into high gear, but it was the playful brown eyes full of mischief and sex that had my knees knocking.

  Oh, God.

  Yes, yes, I had my answer. Things could be so much more humiliating.

  Because I’d just run headfirst into Paxton Myles.

  Chapter 2

  Paxton

  The look of sheer terror on her beautiful face makes it hard to contain my chuckle. My fingers wrap around her thin arms as she struggles to find her feet and tries to balance on her ridiculously too-high heels. I can feel her body tremble under my fingertips, and her lips form a perfect O as recognition flashes across her face.

  I smile down on her, and she slams her mouth shut just as her cheeks fill with color. I usually have that effect on women. Glad to see she's not any different.

  It was impossible not to notice her the moment she stepped out of that limo. Her long blonde hair, her petite frame, and the anxious way she ran from the paparazzi and fell right into my arms.

  My thumbs rub the soft skin of her arms, and the scent of her floral perfume is intoxicating.

  “Hey, hey, easy now,” I joke with her as she presses her hands against my chest and regains her composure. Her eyes flutter closed, and she takes a deep breath, but I can't help but notice her hands shaking and her full lips twitching nervously.

  Realizing what's just happened, she exhales softly. “God, I'm so sorry,” she mumbles under her breath, shuffling from foot to foot as she tries to straighten her long, black dress that has shifted during her stumble.

  “The cameras can be intimidating.” I try to calm her and ease her obvious anxiety. “But I'm pretty sure that stumble is going to make the highlight reel on tonight's tabloid television.”

  I laugh openly and her cheeks turn a darker shade of red. “I'm Pax.” I grin, holding out one hand for her to shake while my other still holds her upright. “And you are?”

  Her eyes fall to my outstretched hand only she doesn’t reciprocate. “I know who you are,” her voice rattles. “I'm not a celebrity. I’m a kindergarten teacher.”

  She finally manages to shrug out of my grip, and I hold both hands up in a show of surrender. She lifts her chin and finally holds eye contact with me in mock confidence. I can see how fucking nervous she is by the little dance she’s doing and it’s making my dick hard. I love it when I can make women squirm.

  The flush from her cheeks is now crawling down her neck and onto her chest. It's hard not to follow those red splotches down to her perfectly lifted tits—tits that would fit nicely in the palm of my hands.

  “Name. What's your name?” I lift my head from her breasts up to her face as I wait for her to answer. She fumbles around awkwardly, juggling her small clutch from hand to hand.

  “Kaylee. Kaylee Rose.”

  I see Kendall Scott, my publicist, over Kaylee's shoulder, one of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows arched in curiosity, but a look of warning shoots from her bright blue eyes. A look she’s always giving me.

  I give her a little wink and decide to ignore her non-verbal warning, turning my attention back to Kaylee.

  “Nice to meet you, Kaylee Rose.”

  She inhales sharply at the sound of her name rolling off my tongue. I've yet to lose the Southern accent I acquired growing up in Texas. It's my secret weapon. Women find it hard to resist that accent, and it's helped me more often than it's hurt me.

  My agent has spent thousands on dialect coaches, telling me it'll make me more marketable when I'm able to ditch that light Southern drawl, but I know when to use it, and when I need to turn up the charm. I hold my hand out again for her to take and she hesitates for just a moment before sliding her soft hand in mine.

  Kaylee is adorable and horribly uncomfortable, and I can't help but find it perfectly amusing. She nods her head frantically as her eyes dart around me and toward the large theater doors she was so adamant to get to when she fell face first into me.

  Pulling her hand from mine, she fakes a smile. “Nice to meet you too,” she mutters as she scurries away, glancing back over her delicate shoulder at me.

  “Enjoy the movie, Kaylee.” I laugh openly as she hurries inside.

  “What the hell was that?” Philip Montes asks as he sidles up next to me, sipping a glass of champagne. He's breaking public relations cardinal rule number one; don't be photographed with alcohol. He catches me looking at the crystal glass in his hand and shrugs before taking a sip of bubbly.

  “I'm not entirely sure, but I'm about to find out.” I see the large double doors close behind her.

  “She's not Hollywood,” he scoffs and steps aside as Jenna Berg and Ashton Walters make their way toward us down the red carpet.

  “No. No, she's not. Which makes me all the more interested,” I reply, also stepping aside. Jenna and Ashton are the new “it” couple in Hollywood. Cameras flash, blinding me. I take this as my cue to get the hell inside and away from this red carpet.

  “I give them five months,” Philip says under his breath, his eyebrow rising as we watch the power couple work the red carpet. “I'm ninety-nine percent sure he plays for both teams.”

  I openly laugh, because I'm ninety-nine percent sure Philip is right.

  Philip has been my best friend and confidant in this wild business. We've co-starred in three movies together, and both of our careers took off simultaneously. We've been dubbed the modern-day Matt Damon and Ben Affleck—a whole lot to live up to, but we're definitely up to the challenge.

  Philip and I follow the growing crowd toward the dark theater. After we check our phones in, protocol for all screenings and premieres, we find our way toward the assigned seats that await us in the front row.

  It's hard not to notice Kaylee, sitting in the roped off area just across the row from me, where typically only actors, directors, and producers are allowed. She sits with her legs carefully crossed and her hands resting on her knee—so proper.

  It's when I see Roger Ward, our director, approach her with a smile before leaning down and pulling her into an embrace that my curiosity is even more piqued.

  She knows Ward.

  Interesting.

  Ward’s wife, Lindsay, also greets Kaylee warmly. All three share in conversation, laughing before Roger Ward points to the seat next to Kaylee. A moment passes betw
een them before the smile suddenly falls from Mr. Ward’s face. It’s a look of disappointment. I’ve seen it many times, only this time it’s not directed at me.

  Kaylee cringes, as she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. Both Mr. and Mrs. Ward look upset, but not at Kaylee. A few more words are exchanged and another brief embrace before they sit down in the row directly in front of her. They both occasionally turn around to make small talk before the lights begin to flicker, and it's easy to see Kaylee begin to visibly calm.

  Philip and I take our seats as the lights begin to dim and then rise again in an effort to get everyone to quiet down, but I can't help but notice the empty seat next to Kaylee.

  A round of applause fills the theater as Roger Ward stands and makes his way to the front to address the audience.

  I try to sit still as the movie starts, as the scenes play. It’s impossible. I decide to make my move. I nod my head toward Kaylee and Philip rolls his eyes, but not before he fist bumps me.

  It takes me three steps to get to her. Three steps before her bright blue eyes look up at me. Three steps is all it takes for me to decide that this girl is going to be mine.

  Chapter 3

  Kaylee

  That accent.

  God.

  That accent.

  It was nothing less than a weapon, and I couldn’t help but feel as if I’d been slayed. A steel blade straight through the heart. Or maybe I’d been struck by an arrow from one of the super cute cupid bows. With the way things were going down right now? Anything was possible.

  I stumbled the rest of the way into the theater. I made sure to keep one eye open, footsteps cautioned, because I sure as hell didn’t need a repeat of five seconds ago. As it was, my insides were already twisted into a million unrecognizable knots, and I was pretty sure there was only one thing that could get them undone.

  This mess of embarrassed nerves? They had amplified into a bundle of this throbbing, unrelenting attraction that shivered across my skin.