Personal Assistant Read online

  Thinking better of the decision to keep touching him, she got up, pulled the comforter away from the empty side, and covered his body. It was already cooling from the air conditioning. She shivered from the cold as she walked out of his room and into the office.

  Frankie tried, but failed, to resist the urge to touch his things. She ran a finger along the bookshelf and read the titles. She wondered if he had read them all, if they were passed down from his parents, or if he simply stocked them for aesthetic purposes. She recalled an article in which he had responded to a reporter’s question stating he had recently read a book about pepper. She didn’t see that book on any of the shelves, but then she didn’t climb the white ladder attached to the wall to see what books were out of her reach.

  A few phone calls later and it was already time to wake him.

  Frankie walked quietly into his bedroom and found him just as she had left him, face down, covered, and deep into sleep.

  “Sir,” she said a little louder than she intended. He didn’t seem to hear her. She took a step closer, then another, finally she decided she would just get right next to the bed and try again. “Sir.”

  “Mmmm?” Was his reply.

  “Sir, it’s time to wake up.” Frankie stood unsure of what to do next. Should she shake him by the shoulder? Pull the blanket away? He was eating up precious minutes now. She had anticipated his eager response to waking and getting ready for the award show. After all, it was an award show.

  Her phone began to vibrate in her pocket and it scared her half to death. Before working for Jonas, she hardly had a phone call. They agreed to let her keep the phone number, but it would be shut off when she left the assignment. Additionally, she was given the latest and greatest phone on the planet. She had been on the job less than twenty-four hours and the calls going out and coming in were steadily increasing.

  The news she was hearing was not good news. His date had canceled on him at the last possible minute. Apparently, she had come down with some sort of illness her assistant was not willing to discuss in detail. “Shit!”

  Frankie didn’t mean to shout, but it sure got his attention. He was sitting up in the bed looking at her with his sleepy expression. His hair was pointing in a variety of directions upon his gorgeous head. He was adorable. Frowning at her he said, “Jesus, Frankie. Did you have to shout?”

  “No. I’m sorry.” She waved her hands in front of her. “I…well, Mathis just called and…”

  “She bailed on me. I figured it was going to happen sooner or later.” He scrubbed his chin and the sound of his fingers against the stubble must have reminded him it was there. “I wonder if I should shave for this thing.”

  Frankie didn’t respond as he turned his blue eyes on her. His hand still at his chin he opened his fingers and slid them down his neck, rubbed his thumb across his collarbone, watched her watching him.

  Frankie could hardly breathe. She wished she had a voice to say something. Anything. Instead she tried to will her heart to slow down and prayed he didn’t see it thumping out of her chest in a way that reminded her of a certain cartoon skunk whenever he fell in love.

  “Well?” He scratched his chest. The crisp hair covering his body only distracted her farther. His hand slid lower, gripped the comforter.

  Frankie looked suddenly at the painting on the wall across the room as he pulled back the white cloud of blanket and swiveled to set his feet on the floor. In a rush she said, “Either way. It looks fine either way.”

  “You’re just saying that because you don’t want me to take up more time.” He stood up, blocked her view of the painting. “You’re not uncomfortable are you? I mean, part of the job involves the occasional undressed conversation.”

  “No,” she lied. Her gaze steadily fixed on his face, afraid to let her eyes drop lower and gage what they never showed in the movies. “Of course not. I just noticed that painting over there.”

  “Uh, huh.” He stretched, shifted his head to one side then the next. “It feels much better, thanks to you.”

  “It’s my job.” She nodded.

  “Is it your job to be ambiguous about my facial hair?” He smiled at her and headed to his bathroom.

  She didn’t follow him, but he didn’t shut the door. Where she stood she could hear him, and he could hear her, but fortunately she could not see him. The moment the sound of liquid against liquid began she spoke up to hide her embarrassment. She was in his bedroom listening to him pee. Surreal was the only word that came to mind.

  “I’m not being ambiguous. You’re one of the lucky few who can wear a clean shaven face and a well groomed, short I might add, beard and still look…”

  She heard the commode flush and then the spray of the shower. He wasn’t in it yet. He called out to her, “Go on, I still look what?”

  Her feet were super-glued to the carpet. Unable to move, unable to think quickly and backtrack out of there she seemed frozen in place. She cleared her throat and said, “Sexy.”

  “Interesting,” he replied. “Glad you think I’m acceptable with the beard, Frankie because I don’t have time to shave. Call Griffin and tell him to bring you something to wear.”

  “Your tux is already here, sir.” Professional, just stay professional. He is your boss, he is not hitting on you, he is a notorious flirt, and you should be so lucky to be this close to him. Keep it together, Frankie, just keep it together.

  “I know.” He poked his head around the corner. “But my date cancelled on me and I don’t like going alone. You’re my assistant, Frankie, call Griffin, pick a dress, and assist me.”

  Her mouth dropped open. She couldn’t help it. Half of her was giddy with the opportunity to go sit in the audience and watch the show. The other half was paralyzed with fear.

  Apparently he enjoyed keeping her off balance. He winked and said, “You’re wasting time. We’ll be late.”

  Spurred into action by the challenge she searched through her contacts, a whole new list of people she didn’t know from Adam, for Griffin’s number. He was Jonas’s personal stylist. By the time she explained the situation, the man was in an uproar and apparently on his way. Before anyone arrived, Jonas was showered and dressing.

  Jonas popped a button on the insanely expensive white shirt and called for her. “Can you fix it?”

  “Do you have a sewing kit around here?”

  He shrugged.

  Frankie huffed in frustration. How could he not know? She located her purse and dug into it for the tiny emergency kit with four pre-threaded needles and prayed one of them was white.

  She returned with the needle and thread and said, “Take it off. Let me see it.”

  His eyebrow quirked and he bit his lower lip. “Don’t tempt me.”

  “Sir.” Frankie tried to sound frustrated but she sounded breathless even to her own ears. He was flirting again. She could barely contain her hormones when he gave her that look. Pulling herself together she cleared her throat and demanded, “The shirt, please.”

  He pulled the shirt off and handed it to her. She looked around the large bathroom and settled her eyes on the commode. He pushed the lid down and she took a seat while he washed his hands. Frankie was nervous. Sewing one of her buttons on a shirt wasn’t a big deal, but sewing a button on a shirt that might cost as much as her rent was a big deal. She was careful in her stitches, her focus completely on the task at hand. Probably why she jumped at the sound of the doorbell. The needle penetrated her finger and up off the commode she stood, tears threatening her eyes. She pulled the needle from the offended finger. Holding the needle and shirt in one hand she put the offended finger in her mouth and tried to fight the urge to cry. It hurt.

  Jonas calmly took the shirt from her hand, bit the string. He placed the shirt on the sink counter and tossed the needle in the trashcan next to the sink. “Let me see.”

  She shook her head no. The doorbell sounded again.

  “You don’t have time to tell me no, Frankie, let me see it.” He p
ulled her hand away from her mouth, looked at it carefully, then pulled her finger up to his lips and kissed the stinging tip. “There, all better, now.”

  Frankie was sure the finger was not all better, but she was too distracted by the other feelings now flooding her body to care. The doorbell rang again and she opened her eyes wide in awareness. “Griffin.”

  She took off running,

  “Be careful, the floors are slick.” She heard him call after her.

  Frankie made it to the front door and opened it to find a very peeved stylist and a crew of three others.

  “Let’s go.” Griffin ushered them in. He was in charge now, no doubt about it. “You said you were a size nine or ten.”

  “I am.” Frankie took a step back as the men and women went to work dragging in trunks.

  “Not by Hollywood sizing you’re not.” He turned to a woman with long blonde hair pulled back into a sever ponytail. “Grab the peach one. It’s likely the only one left that will fit you. I warn you my dear, its designer is not kind to those who treat her clothes unkindly. I’m sure it costs more than he’s paying you. I wouldn’t put you in it, but I have nothing else to fit. You got boobs.” He walked around looking her over. “And a nice ass. Starlets might have one or the other, but those who have both, get dresses in advance. Fortunately for you, a particularly musical one likes to order more than one style and pick last minute.”

  Frankie was flustered. The man had surveyed her body and possibly given her a compliment, if it wasn’t laced with so much agitation. “Grab the kittens, by the look of what she’s got on her feet now, those stilettos will be dangerous.” Griffin looked up to the top of the stairs and said, “You need to sign for the jewels. I’ll need them back by Monday.”

  Jonas nodded and said, “Just get her ready. We have to leave here in less than an hour, right?”

  Frankie stood stunned. She really was a plastic doll to him. He was having her dressed and ready to take off to some place he could play with her and then drop her back into her life and her plain shoes and clothes and jewelry she could wear without fear. She looked up at him, hoping she didn’t sound as frightened as she suddenly felt and asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to call another woman to go with you?”

  He looked angry for a moment and then said, “Out of the question. Get dressed, you’re wasting time.”

  Griffin clapped his hands and she was ushered into the massive living room where people began taking her clothes off, putting clothes on her, sewing in a few stitches to make the dress flawless, pulling at her hair, and then painting her face with more make-up than she would normally wear. She had no idea what she looked like. The kitten heels were not exactly what she thought of when she used the name. Her kitten heels were three inches high, but with a sturdy heel. The shoes she stood in were around three, maybe four inches high and had a much slimmer heel.

  The dress, once she saw the label coming towards her, caused her heart to soar. Frankie suddenly thought of the days she had pretended to be a princess. Tonight, she was dressed like one, wearing a dress from a brand new collection created by one. The weight of the earrings was unlike the disposable costume ones she normally wore. When the clear pink diamond ring was slid on the middle finger of her right hand she gasped.

  “You look amazing. I hope someone notices.” Griffin patted her hand and then as quickly as the crew had shuffled in, they shuffled out. Her things were neatly folded in a nearby chair.

  She stepped out of the living room and into the great foyer just in time to see Jonas at the top of the stairs. He was the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on. He stood there a moment, staring at her. Suddenly self-conscious she said, “I know I need to be careful in this dress and with the earrings and the ring. I promise I won’t ruin them.”

  She could have sworn he said ‘that makes one of us’, but he was too far away and it sounded like a whisper by the time the words hit her ears across the distance.

  The doorbell rang again and she looked around for her phone; it was time to leave and she needed the phone. It was the one indisputable point in the contract. She had to keep that phone on her person or accessible to her at all times. She spied a delicately jeweled bag next to her pile of clothes. She took careful steps to the chair and picked up the bag. Inside were her phone, a tiny powder case, and lipstick. When she returned to the foyer, he was there, waiting for her.

  Frankie looked at him in all his gorgeous state and fumbled for words.

  “You trying to steal my thunder?” he asked with a wink of his eye.

  “Impossible,” she breathed the word.

  “Yeah, well, you haven’t looked in the mirror yet.” He held out his arm and she looped hers through it. “Lady MacBeth, I would like to apologize in advance for dragging you out to this thing.”

  He opened the door and they were off.

  Chapter Four

  Jonas had to admit, she was gorgeous. More than she realized. He explained what her role would need to be in order to keep her out of the tabloids, especially now that she was dressed to kill. The limo pulled up to a secluded entrance and waited in line until they were at the door. A man opened the door and leaned down to look in.

  “Jonas Gunner. This is my personal assistant, Francesca MacBeth, please see her to my table,” he said. The man nodded, held out a hand to Frankie, and the moment she took it Jonas wanted to bypass the red carpet and escort her to the table himself.

  “Frankie,” he called after her unable to stop himself. She leaned over to look at him and the sight of her cleavage made him gulp. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “No worries, sir.” Frankie flashed him a real smile and his heart thumped with appreciation. The door closed, the limo moved. He thought about the second he’d seen her from the top of the stairs. His dick would have pulled him down the stairs to get to her if he let it do all the thinking. Instead, he collected his thoughts, his motives, and decided that he would not treat her like a date at this event. It wouldn’t be fair to her. Not when the media would plaster her all over the place. He dropped her off safely, made his way through the interviews, and dodged questions about the ex-girlfriend, the one who was supposed to be sick, walking a few media outlets behind him with her newest co-star.

  “I’m happy for them,”he said and realized he wasn’t lying. Sometimes people fall for one another when they work together on set for too long. It’s easy to do when the characters are intimate, the stars single and bored, and somewhere the line blurs and it becomes hard to tell if the character is attracted or if the real person is. He had vowed not to get involved with another co-star when the last relationship began to sour, when the real character surfaced and he knew at once, his sister was right, that girl was only in it for the headlines. Ivy wasn’t like the other girls. She was still a virgin, desperate to make her way in this town, and he had agreed to let people believe what they would about their relationship. It was really just a friendship that he knew would have to come to a public end sooner or later.

  He skipped a few television cameras and other media outlets that were busy with interviews already. His agent would likely send him an e-mail on that, but no one was asking about the upcoming project. It was all about the award he was presenting, the one he was up for, or the woman trailing behind him on the media circuit. Besides, he had Frankie waiting on him, and she had been waiting over an hour at this point.

  He walked in and was escorted towards his table. Halfway there he saw her talking to a well-known young football player. The guy leaned in a little closer than Jonas’s newly embedded possessive streak approved of. He leaned back with a loud laugh and a blushing face. Frankie had that effect on people. Maybe she was oblivious to the natural sex appeal she practically oozed by existing. Maybe she knew, and she enjoyed lording it over everyone. Either way, she was his, his assistant at the very least, and hitting on her was unprofessional, except when he was the one doing it.

  “Hey,” Jonas said as he approached
them. “What’s so funny?”

  “Oh wow, you’re Jonas Gunner.” The guy looked from him to Frankie and back. “Ms. MacBeth, you didn’t say you were here with Jonas Gunner.”

  The guy looked so confused Jonas almost forgave him for occupying his seat and his date…his assistant’s…time. He had to stop thinking date. “You two know each other?”

  Great, now he was competing with a professional football player for the affections of an English teacher.

  “Yeah,” he said. “She was my lit professor my sophomore year. You don’t forget teachers who make a difference in your life.”

  Before Jonas could respond, the guy’s date, a delicate young girl in a dress someone must have painted on her body, approached and called for him. The girl looked at Frankie. As if to remind the kid of her assets she pulled at the top of the dress she was wearing and whined. Jonas remembered girls like that. Gold Diggers, easily tossing themselves at guys they thought would take them somewhere. It was girls like that who had made him think dating actresses was a better idea. After three failed and one fake relationship with actresses, he was convinced he was destined to be the next long-term bachelor.

  Then Frankie walked in and turned his world upside down. What was worse, the woman had not a clue she had done so. Jonas took the empty seat next to her and grabbed the glass of water on the table. “This is mine, not his, right?”

  She laughed. “Of course it’s yours.”

  After he had started to drink the much needed liquid she said, “I only let him have a sip of it.”

  Jonas slowly pulled the glass from his lips and sat it on the table. He looked at her. She pulled her glasses off again. He realized she could not see as well without them, but she seemed to be concerned about wearing them.

  “Wear your glasses, Frankie. I didn’t take you to be vain.” He reached across and grabbed her glass of water and started drinking it.

  “I wasn’t keeping them off for my sake.” She put them on and sighed. She looked at him and then past him. Her hand went up in the air and motioned for someone. He looked around to see a waiter heading towards them. “You must be thirsty after all that talking out there. Is it still hot out?”