He was so distracted trying to place her that he hadn’t even minded signing autographs for fans. He’d needed those couple of minutes to gather himself.

It wasn’t until he’d seen her up close, her hair all mussed and cheeks flushed like a woman after a night of pleasure, that he suddenly remembered her. Maddie from the party. Oh, yeah. That chick.

If he remembered correctly, that party was before he’d even signed with Stu. He had to be careful or she’d want to hook up again. Women from his past didn’t ever want anything except his fame and fortune. Hell, women in his present only wanted that. He decided it best to pretend he didn’t remember her at all.

She remembered him, though. It was obvious. Recognition spread over her face the minute he said her name. Her eyes glimmered with hopefulness.

Then the spark left and letdown settled on her features. He could have thrown her a bone then, given her a hint that he knew her, but he didn’t.

Yeah, he was an asshole.

Then he was stuffed in the SUV with her, drowning in her unique smell and memories of their evening together crashed over him like a giant wave—her tentative flirting, his smooth moves, that apple-pear body spray she used, the one she still wore now. He hadn’t done anything big yet. She hadn’t even known he was an actor. And still, she’d let him kiss her and touch her. Very intimately.

Was she the last woman he’d kissed before he’d become known? Too many years and women had passed for him to be sure. Maybe she wasn’t, but she reminded him of that time. Before he doubted the sincerity of every compliment. When his pick-up lines were meant to start relationships, not just get some for the night.

Now no pick-up lines were necessary at all. He could bag a girl with a flash of his famous smile. And though having models and costars and willing fans lined up at his bedroom door was out-of-this-world awesome, it got boring. Hot sex wasn’t the same as just talking and flirting and connecting with a woman. How long had it been since he’d done that?

What if he could recapture those days? With her. With Maddie. They still had chemistry. He could cut the sexual tension in the backseat with a knife. He felt her lean into his leg. He got it. He wanted to touch her too. And he did—a brush of her cheek, a hand on her knee. It wouldn’t take much to get her alone and underneath him.

But then she flirted with that overly chipper, butt-kisser Sam and he remembered—he wasn’t that guy. He wasn’t the guy who was in it for the long haul. Micah was a movie star. He was into girls for a minute. He couldn’t recapture the days before his fame and that was the price he’d paid. Even if he tried to get involved with a woman, he could never trust their intentions with him. He’d chosen this life, made a very deliberate decision of career over love.

And getting tangled up with a girl like Maddie Bauers, a girl from the days when he was that guy, wasn’t what he needed.

What he needed was to get to his room and take a cold shower. He crossed his hands low in his lap to hide his stiff bulge and shut his eyes, attempting sleep. Or, at least the pretense.

“Hey, Micah.” Fudge paused. “Dude?”

His bodyguard’s insistent tone pulled Micah out of his pretend sleep. “What?”

“Look out your window. The mountains are dope. Why do we only come out here in the winter?”

“Because you think sliding down a mountain on a surfboard is fun.” But he leaned forward to look at the scenery through the front window. Fudge was right, it was gorgeous. “We’ll do some sightseeing while we’re here, okay?”

“You should invite Lulu.”

He swallowed a sigh. “Maybe.” Lulu was his mother. Lucille, actually, but he and his friends had always referred to her as Lulu.

“Come on, she’d love it out here.”

“I’ll think about it.” She would love it. His mother had a thing for nature and Micah flew her out to many of his more picturesque locations.

It was just that, though he adored his mom, she also brought him down. She’d remained single since she’d flown off to California when he was twelve and Micah worried about her being by herself. He couldn’t help but fear that she was sad and, well, lonely.

Sometimes that made him question his own decision to be alone.

But then he’d remind himself that he was nothing like Lulu. She’d given up love for a career and it hadn’t worked out. Micah’s sacrifice had worked out. He had the life most people only dreamed of. He had the life he’d dreamed of. He didn’t want for anything.

Well, almost anything.

He snuck a peek behind him at Maddie. He’d moved nearer to her to look out the window, but didn’t have the luck of brushing against her again. Now he saw why. She was leaning against her window, her beautiful body pressed against the door, away from him. Thick irritation emanated from her like a barrier between them. So thick it bordered on loathing.

Good. Hate him. It would make it easier to avoid her if she was also avoiding him.

He sat back in his seat and closed his eyes again. It was simpler now to fight any urge to make amends with Maddie. Now that he saw how turned off by him she was, he had no desire to ease the tension between them.

He closed his eyes again and succeeded in putting her out of his mind until they pulled up in front of his hotel. As Sam retrieved his luggage from the trunk, Micah stole one more glance at the brunette beauty beside him before he stepped out of the car. Only then did he realize that Maddie’s expression didn’t read as angry—it read as hurt.

Aw, shit. That wasn’t what he was going for at all.

He should have left it at that, painful as it was to see her distressed. But he couldn’t stand it. He swallowed. “Hey, Maddie Bauers.” She looked up at him, her eyes big with curiosity. “I got to know Adam when we were filming in L.A. He’s the best cameraman I’ve ever worked with. You must be pretty stellar to get his recommendation. Welcome aboard.”

“Thanks,” she said softly.

That wasn’t so bad. He remained professional yet seemed to lift her spirits. Problem was the smile she gave him had his cock jumping again. He shifted, hoping she didn’t notice as he stepped from the car.

Fudge joined Micah at the bellhop station. He chuckled as Micah watched the SUV pull away down the mountain.

“What?” Micah asked.

“Nothing.” But the amusement remained on his face.

Damn. Fudge knew Micah too well. He was much more than an employee. The two had met in middle school when Fudge stood up for Micah after a bully had teased him about a commercial he’d appeared in. They’d been good friends ever since. Half the reason Micah employed him was for the company. The life of a famous Hollywood bachelor wasn’t as friend-filled as many people thought.

Not much later, Micah tipped the bellhop and closed the door behind him in his room. He threw his jacket over a chair and crossed to the large windows. The small town didn’t have the luxury hotels Micah usually stayed in, but the view from his room—a breathtaking landscape of mountains and wildflowers—couldn’t be topped. He took a moment to memorize the scene, wondering if Fudge had a similar view across the hall.

Maybe he would invite Lulu. She’d go gaga over this place.

And maybe being with her would make them both feel less lonely.

With a sigh, he drew the fire curtains. Heavy window coverings were one of his best friends. They shut out zoom lenses and the prying eyes of fans.

He rummaged through his carry-on for his iPad and stretched out on his king-size bed. Checking his email, he found his schedule for the next day. Seven a.m. call time. That left almost thirteen hours before he would see Maddie again.

Had he really just calculated that? Yes, yes he had.

He ran his hand over his stubbly chin, debating how to handle his Maddie thoughts. The night was still young. He could try to find a pretty young fan in the hotel bar, someone willing to suck off a star just so she could brag to her friends.