I shrugged behind his back. To me, the eyes and the small mouth looked adorable.
Unlocking the doors, he leaned in and reached for something behind his seat.
A gray t-shirt.
“Take off your shirt,” he said, straightening up and turning to me.
“What?” I gaped at him.
His fingers reached out to lift the hem of my shirt, but I slapped his hand away.
“What are you doing?” I hissed quietly as two girls hurried passed his car, their phones glued to their ears.
“Olive,” he started. “I need to see how bad it is. Take it off.”
His hands came at me again. I slapped his hand harder.
“You want me to take off my shirt out in the open?”
He met my eyes. “We’re in the parking lot. No one who isn’t supposed to be in here is allowed to be in here. No one will see you between the SUV and my car. Go on.”
He reached at me again.
So, naturally, glaring at him, I slapped his hand even harder.
This time he laughed.
“Don’t make me take it off for you, Olive. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Your car doesn’t even reach your chest, Jason. I doubt it will do much to hide me from sight.”
“Face the SUV. I’ll turn around and cover your back. Or we can go straight to the ER. Your choice.”
“No,” I snapped.
“Then do as I say.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re annoying.” After a short staring contest that only ended up making me hot, I was the first one to turn away.
Grumbling under my breath, I gingerly lifted my shirt off of my stomach and took it off. It wasn’t hurting as much as it had a few minutes before, but I wouldn’t say no to rubbing some ice cubes on my chest either. Dropping the shirt to the ground, I…
Shit! The extra shirt was still in his hands.
“Hand me the damn shirt,” I whispered, looking to my left to see if anybody was walking around.
“Why are you whispering?” he asked right over my shoulder, his hot breath tickling my neck.
The annoying-hot-jerk chuckled when I squealed and jumped around.
“You were supposed to turn around,” I accused him hotly.
His eyes dropped to my chest. His jaw hardening, he quickly looked up and away.
“What is that?” he gritted through his teeth.
Covering my breasts with my forearm, I snapped, “They’re breasts. What does it look like?”
Did he think they were too big? He probably did. I definitely didn’t have those small elegant breasts where you could go to bed without wearing a bra.
“Why aren’t you wearing something white and simple?”
Despite the stupid situation, I looked down at my chest and laughed. “Why do you care what I wear? And what is wrong with this one?”
He looked up at the sky. “It’s…it doesn’t…do anything. You can see through it.”
“So?” I asked.
“You aren’t supposed to wear stuff like that.”
“Says who? I’m sure you must’ve seen much better stuff than this.” I took a deep breath and let it out. “Just give me the damn shirt, Jason,” I said impatiently. “It wasn’t my intention to disgust you or embarrass you or whatever it is happening right now.”
“Disgust me?” His eyes shot back to my eyes. “Olive,” he said, taking a step toward me.
I cut him off before he could tell me something brotherly and piss me off, or—even worse—break my heart even more.
“Jason, there are people around. Please give me the shirt so I can cover myself.”
His jaw ticked, but he handed me his shirt, and I quickly pulled it over my head.
“Thank you.”
He took yet another step and I plastered my back against the SUV behind me. He lifted the shirt up, just a little. This time I didn’t slap his hand away. He’d already seen more of me than I’d been ready to show him.
He gently touched my stomach, then started running the back of his knuckles over my slightly irritated skin.
That thing that resides in your chest? Took wings and flew away.
The other thing that was in my skull? Turned to complete mush.
I sucked in a breath, my heartbeat suddenly slowing down to the point where I wasn’t sure if I was still alive or had stepped into heaven. When I lifted my head up, he was staring down at me—right into my eyes.
By then I was the perfect example of one of those ‘My body is ready’ gifs.
“It doesn’t look as bad as your…chest area,” he said, softly dropping the shirt over his hand.
He didn’t back away.
I didn’t look away.
His hand was still in there.
On my stomach.
Under my shirt.
Then he sighed and pulled it away. Suddenly I could breathe again.
Instead of begging him to take me right against the car like I desperately wanted to, I said, “I’ll be okay. I’ll put something on when I get home. It’s not as bad as it looks.”
He wasn’t happy, but he opened his car door and helped me get in.
Jason Thorn, my childhood crush and now movie star, had touched my stomach, gently, and I wasn’t hyperventilating.
Huh…
Maybe I was getting the hang of this obsession/love thing.
Chapter Thirteen
Jason
It had been one hour since I’d dropped Olive off and I was once again sitting in Megan’s office, working on damage control. So far, I’d looked through twelve headshots, recognizing some of the girls while having no idea who the others were. The one thing I knew for certain: I didn’t want any of them.
“I’m starting to doubt your PR skills, Megan,” I said after dropping the photographs back on her desk.
She stared at me blankly as she took a sip of her green tea and slowly put it down on her desk.
“It’s been what? A month? Two months? You still haven’t decided on a girl, Jason. I’m not asking you to make a lifelong commitment here. Pick one so we can draw up a contract and move on from this.”
“I’m not marrying some bloodthirsty new actress who will be in this just to get more exposure. I’m not signing on to carting her around to events and all this publicity crap. Marrying her will be enough torture on its own.”
She tilted her head. “Why exactly do you think we’re doing this, Jason? It will be a win-win for both sides. Why else would they marry you?”
Ouch.
“In your case, you need the positive exposure. You need to remind the public and frankly everyone in the movie industry that you’re not just some exhibitionist and in fact a damn good actor. In her case, whomever you decide to marry, she’ll use you for her own gain, whatever that is. That’s how the game is played.”
I rubbed my forehead and leaned back in my seat. “I don’t like this, Megan. I don’t like it at all.”
“Look, Jason,” she started, leaning over her desk. “You’re an amazing actor. You have the potential to become one of the bests in this industry, but that’s not what the media is circulating any more. Have you read the tabloids lately?”
“You know I don’t touch those.”