Only the Brightest Stars

by Andrew Grey

Genres: Contemporary Romance; LGBT & Pride

Synopsis

The problem with being an actor on top of the world is that you have a long way to fall.

Logan Steele is miserable. Hollywood life is dragging him down. Drugs, men, and booze are all too easy. Pulling himself out of his self-destructive spiral, not so much.

Brit Stimple does whatever he can to pay the bills. Right now that means editing porn. But Brit knows he has the talent to make it big, and he gets his break one night when Logan sees him perform on stage.

When Logan arranges for an opportunity for Brit to prove his talent, Brit’s whole life turns around. Brit’s talent shines brightly for all to see, and he brings joy and love to Logan’s life and stability to his out-of-control lifestyle. Unfortunately, not everyone is happy for Logan, and as Brit’s star rises, Logan’s demons marshal forces to try to tear the new lovers apart.  

 

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Release date: May 9, 2023

Publisher: Dreamspinner Press

Print pages: 235

Sample

CHAPTER 1

 

 

“LOGAN!” HIS manager called, his footsteps echoing through the house the pain in the ass had convinced him to buy. “Where the fuck are you?”

Logan Steele sat up with a groan as he turned to the guy sprawled out on the sheets next to him. He tried to remember what the hell had gone on last night, but his mind was a blank. It had happened before, and it would probably happen again. His mouth tasted like death, but he managed to get out of bed and onto his feet. He had just reached the bathroom to get a drink of water when Carlton’s voice drew nearer.

Logan didn’t bother answering. Carlton would find him eventually. He thought about reaching for the half-full Stoli bottle beside the sink, but he got some water instead, rinsed his mouth, took a few painkillers, and brushed his teeth before starting the water for a shower. With any luck, that would make him feel less like he’d been run over by a truck.

He stepped around the tiled wall and into the huge shower before switching the flow to the myriad of jets in the walls and from overhead, pelting himself with hot water. He blocked out everything but the water, wishing it would wash away the dirt that he felt clinging to his very soul. Wait, that wasn’t possible, because he had sacrificed that on the altar of Hollywood career success years ago. There was nothing left on the inside, and no one seemed to give a damn.

Not that they were supposed to. Logan had found out pretty quickly that he could pay people to do just about anything he wanted. He had an assistant who answered his mail and ran his social media. There were people to handle publicity, and he had Carlton to manage his life and schedule his days, making sure he showed up where he was supposed to be on time. He had a person who managed his money and paid his bills. Basically, he didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to.

But none of them gave a damn about him, a kid from a dinky farming town in western Michigan who had just happened to be in the right place at the right time.

The water switched off. Logan turned and blinked at Carlton.

“You have to be at the television studio in less than an hour.” Carlton tossed him a towel and turned away. “I already sent last night’s diversion on his way.” He shook his head as he stared at his phone.

“Who the fuck is it today?” Logan asked. His head still ached. He wished he could crawl back into bed and sleep for another few hours.

Carlton ignored him. It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard Logan say worse things. “Monica West. Remember her?” He lifted his gaze. Logan groaned and reached

for the vodka bottle, but Carlton got to it first. “I see you do.” He held the bottle. “I promised her there would be no repeat of the shit show that was your last appearance, and I mean to keep my promise. No drinking, and for God’s sake, do you think you could make it through a single day without looking like a train wreck?” He left the room, and Logan ground his teeth together, his anger at himself rising.

“Do you think you could not be a giant pain in my ass?” He probably would have fired the guy a dozen times already, except Carlton was the closest thing to a friend that Logan had—which he knew was just as pathetic as the fact that he wanted a drink so fucking bad right now, he could taste it. But he knew he had to be sober and on his best behavior to promote Knockout, the movie he had releasing in less than a week. Somehow he had to find the energy to be charming and witty while he talked about a movie he barely remembered making.

Carlton laughed as Logan wrapped the towel around his waist and returned to the bedroom, where his clothes had been laid out on the bed. Without thinking, Logan dropped the towel and began dressing. “Drink this. It will help you feel better.”

Logan sniffed and downed the glass of purple liquid. “What the hell was that?”

“A protein shake. It will give you something to counteract the booze and whatever else you’ve got in your stomach.” He shook his head while Logan shrugged on his shirt and tucked it in, then pulled on socks and boots. Logan checked himself in the mirror and thought he didn’t look half bad. Carlton shook his head. “I’ve set up an appointment with your personal trainer, Erik, for every day this week. You’ve been putting on weight, and we need to get it off and have you in shirtless shape for when you start shooting again in two weeks. You might want to spend some time in the pool to burn off a little around the middle.” He patted Logan’s belly as though he had a gut.

“There’s nothing the fuck there,” Logan snapped. “I look fine.”

Carlton stepped in front of the mirror. “You do not. You have bags under your eyes, a

nd your skin….” He shook his head. “I’ll get your facialist and have Erik get you in the sauna and steam room to sweat out all the crap. Maybe that will help. Tomorrow you don’t have anything until the afternoon, so you can sleep in, and then we’ll get you whipped back into shape.” Carlton sighed. “I’ll make sure you have a pill you can take when you go to bed to help you get some rest and be ready for a full day. You’re well over thirty, and I don’t care if you’re a man or a woman, young and pretty is what this town goes for.” He looked Logan over and then pulled open one of the dresser drawers, grabbed a bottle, and dabbed a little makeup under Logan’s eyes before smoothing it in. “That’s better.” He stepped back and nodded to himself, then checked the time and got out of the way as Logan strode out of the bedroom and down the plushly carpeted hallway to the stairs. He descended quickly and didn’t pause in the hall before pulling open the front doors and heading down the walk, right into the waiting black stretch limousine.

He sank into the back seat, and Carlton got in as well. The driver closed the door, and a few seconds later they were on their way. The two of them were in their own private area. A partition separated them from the driver. Carlton pressed a button and gave instructions that Logan paid no attention to. He watched out the windows as Bel Air mansions slid past outside. Logan released a deep breath, trying to remember back to before his life had spun so profoundly out of control.

“We’re running slightly late, but with a little luck with traffic, we’ll get there in plenty of time and you can have a few minutes to yourself. Do you remember what you’re going to talk about?” Carlton asked. “The movie, your costars, and how great it was to work with them?”

“The usual load of shit,” Logan retorted.

“No. That would be when they say good things about you. That’s the pile of crap,” Carlton told him flatly. “They were good people and did their best. You were the one who threatened to use your costar as a stunt double and set them on fire. So you say nice things about them because you owe them for keeping their mouths shut.”

Carlton went back to his phone, and Logan once again turned to the window as they glided upward and onto the freeway. Logan continued watching the scenery pass as they made their way into traffic.

“Do you ever wonder what life would be like if you hadn’t gone into this business?” Logan asked. He wasn’t sure if Carlton was listening.

“What life? You were on some farm in Loganville, population just above the Walking Dead. There was nothing there for you or anyone else.” Carlton lowered his phone. “I went back there with you last year after your mother died. I saw the place, remember? There was very little there.” And what little Logan might have had there was gone now. His mother had been his biggest fan and the one person he knew was always in his corner. Now there was no one left. Sure, the town had made a huge deal about him returning and had welcomed him like he was the greatest thing ever, but it felt hollow. They wanted Logan Steele, but no one remembered Wally Padgett—or cared to, for that matter. Wally had lasted a year after he’d left school and made his way to Hollywood. He’d lived on his last few pennies and gone to every audition he could find, and he’d gotten lucky. A bit part on a drama series had turned into a huge deal and gotten him his first movie, which struck low-budget gold. Everything rocketed upward from there—agents, publicity, red carpets, talk shows, the big screen, people screaming and stopping him in the damned bathroom asking for an autograph. His life had been turned on its ear overnight, and he’d been on top of the world.

Until everything changed… or maybe he was the one who changed. Logan wasn’t sure. Maybe he’d never been anything at all and what he’d thought was success had been an illusion. Hollywood was so filled with magic and sets that weren’t real, it was hard to know what was.

“Now there isn’t anything for me anyway,” Logan said softly. He tried to think of the people he’d known then, but Logan had been a theater kid in a high school without a drama department. A gay kid who didn’t fit in no m

atter where he turned.

Carlton set aside his phone. “What’s gotten into you?” he demanded. “You have a life all of those people can only dream of. One almost anyone would give their teeth for.” He sat back and looked at Logan with eyes that Logan sometimes swore saw everything, and yet other times Carlton was completely blind to the truly important things.

Logan opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of Evian. He eyed the bottle of vodka, wishing he could drown himself in the release it offered from all this turmoil in his head. Nothing seemed to help. The best he could do was drown his disappointment in alcohol or sex—both if he could get them. “I’m fine, just thinking about shit is all.” He took a drink of the water and then set the bottle in one of the cup holders.

Carlton frowned and reached into the bottom of his case. “Do you want something to calm you down?”

Yes, yes, yes. Sometimes Logan thought he just couldn’t do this anymore. He held out his hand, and Carlton placed two pills in it. Logan stared at the valium and held them for a few seconds, looking at them like they were his nemesis, but he knew that wasn’t the case. What was wrong? What he was fighting was inside him. Still, if they helped him get through this damned thing….

The limousine pulled to a stop, harder than normal, and the pills went flying. They sailed through the air and landed on the floor. “I’m sorry,” the driver said through the intercom.

“What the hell happened?” Carlton demanded.

“Take it easy,” Logan said, suddenly able to breathe. It was almost like he had taken the damned pills. “We’re fine.”

“An accident happened just in front of us. I was able to avoid it,” the driver reported, and then they slowly made their way forward. The accident looked bad, with three cars, one accordioned badly in the middle. A

man stood outside one of the cars, blood running down the side of his face.

“Tell the driver to stop,” Logan said. “Now!” The back seat seemed way too fucking small, and he needed fresh air right the fuck now. The calm from a minute earlier shattered like glass, and the shards were all coming at him like missiles. He was suddenly sixteen again and in the thick of the car accident that had taken away his father.

“Why? The police will handle it, and we have to be at the television studio in half an hour,” Carlton said. “Driver, please continue.”

“Stop now!” Logan said earnestly. He made sure the driver heard, and they pulled off to the side. Logan opened the door and stepped outside into a cacophony of noise and confusion. People were yelling and crying. His hands shook, and he looked up and down the street as people slowly got out of the smashed-up cars. What shocked him was how no one had bothered to stop to help. Cars slowly continued on without anyone paying attention.

“Mr. Steele,” the driver said softly as he came to stand next to him. “You should get back in the car. I’ve called the police and they are on their way.”

A man ran up to him, his brown eyes huge as saucers, jet-black hair so dark it had hints of blue. He was on the edge of panic. “Please help. My mother is in there and I can’t get her out.” The pleading in his eyes touched Logan deeply. The man’s hand shook, and something inside Logan snapped.

“Show me,” he said without thinking and grabbed the driver. “You can help too.”

Logan reached the passenger side of the middle car and looked inside. A woman of about sixty sat behind the wheel, deflated air bags around her.

“Are you all right, ma’am? Can you breathe?” She sighed and nodded. It looked like the entire front of the car had shortened, pinning her in place. “Are you able to move at all? Are you hurt?”

“My head?” she said and turned to look at him. She gasped. “You’re… you’re….”

Logan knew that moment of recognition and nearly backed away, but he also knew what was at stake. He had watched his father slip away from him while they waited for the emergency crew.

“I’m just trying to help.” Logan reached around the steering wheel, found the lever, a

nd pushed it up. The steering wheel moved forward a few inches, and then he pressed it up as far as it would go. “Can you move now?” he asked. “Unbuckle the seat belt…. That’s it. Now, are you hurt? Can you move?” She slowly slid toward him, and he half lifted her out of the car and into his arms before carrying her away from the car. “Are you able to stand?”

She looked up at him with the same eyes as the young man. “Yes, I’m okay. But just think about it—I’m being held by Logan Steele.” Her eyes got a little dreamy, and she flashed a bright smile. She rested her head against his chest, and he gently set her on her feet. She stood and got her balance. “Thank you,” she said, patting his cheek.

“Mom,” the young man said, hugging her fiercely. “You’re okay?”

“You should all move away. I smell gasoline,” Logan’s driver said just as the car Logan had pulled the woman out of burst into flames.

“We need to leave now or we never will,” Carlton said, already tugging Logan back toward the limousine. The driver hurried around as the crowd moved away from the fire. Carlton practically pushed Logan into the limo before he climbed in himself and told the driver to get them out of there.

The limousine began to move away from the scene. It wasn’t until they were moving that Logan began to shake as the adrenaline drained out of him. What the hell had he been thinking? He wasn’t the fucking hero of one of those damned movies he did. Not in real life, and that fucking car had caught fire for real. This hadn’t been a movie set.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Carlton asked. “You could have been hurt, and then what the fuck would have happened? You have to start shooting in two weeks, and if you’d been in that car when it caught fire….” He left the rest of his thought hanging ominously in the air.

Logan did his best

to tune him out. They were minutes from the studio, and he needed to get himself into the right frame of mind—and Carlton wasn’t helping.

“Just shut up,” Logan snapped and reached for one of the bottles clinking in the bar. He held the fucking thing like the damned vodka bottle was going to give him the escape and comfort he needed. He was going to go on a live show that would be seen by millions of people, and he needed to be able to prepare himself, but he couldn’t center his mind. He kept seeing his father slipping away next to him, and it felt like he was doing the same thing all over again. In his mind, the line between the here and now blurred with the past. He needed to try to sort it out, and that had to happen in the next few minutes.

“We’re almost there, and you have to be ready…,” Carlton was saying.

Logan turned away, trying to get some control once again and feeling it slipping away. He held up his hand, and finally Carlton stopped. Now only the sound of the tires on the road intruded on the space. He closed his eyes, fighting for control of the turmoil at the worst time possible.

As the car pulled to a stop, he looked out the window. Then the door opened, and Logan got out and strode up to the door being held by a man with a clipboard. He didn’t pause and continued inside, past a number of people who stood out of the way. He did his best to paste on a smile, all the while his head screaming for a drink, anything to take the edge off.

“This way, Mr. Steele,” a stunning Black woman in a red dress said. She gave him a smile, and her bright eyes and posture told him she’d brook no nonsense. She motioned to a dressing room, and he went inside and sat in one of the chairs in front of a set of mirrors. “You’ll go on as the final guest of the show. We want to be able to build up to your appearance.” Again, her voice was solid, and he needed that. “You’re going to do a great job.”

He turned in the chair. “You know, I really hate doing these things.” He was an actor, and he should be able to get in front of people and just do his 

thing. He had done it all his adult life. This was just another scene he had to play.

“Yes. I’ve heard that.” She stepped closer, her heels clicking on the tile floor. “But just talk to Monica. Don’t even think about anything or anyone else. She wants her show to go well. We have a great teaser clip from the film, and she’s going to ask you the basic questions.” For some reason her voice soothed him, and he cracked his eyes open and actually smiled. “Can I bring you anything?”

Logan swallowed hard. “I’d kill for a triple vodka right now, but maybe a diet soda with ice.” He gripped the chair arms to keep his hands from shaking. Early on in his career he had done things like this all the time and had never given them a second thought. Maybe then he’d had nothing to lose so he’d gone for it. But now he had a ton of people depending on him to deliver, and he felt every ounce of that weight. Or maybe that was all a crock of shit and he truly was washed up and the last one to realize it.

“Thank you,” Logan said and held out his hand. She shook it and then stepped away as Carlton charged into the room like the proverbial bull in the china shop. He was followed by the makeup artist, who placed a paper around Logan’s collar to protect his clothes and silently went to work getting him ready, with Carlton issuing instructions. Now all Logan had to do was sit and pray that this segment was good and that he could pull himself together for long enough to make a good impression—to make the audience happy enough to want to see a film that he’d been too out of it to remember.

 

 

He’d done it. That was all he could think about once he was back in the limousine. The weight was lifted. Logan could hear the audience roaring their excitement when he’d come on stage, and that had energized him. He told a few stories he’d remembered about shooting and enthused about his costars, putting them in the best light. In the back of his mind, something had switched on as soon as he sat down, and he had all this energy. He and Monica had laughed and acted like they had little inside jokes, and Logan had smiled and even brought the other guests into the conversation. In short, he’d killed it.

“That was okay, but you seemed a little hyped up,” Carlton said. “I doubt anyone else noticed it. Monica sure seemed to be having a good time.” In three seconds, Logan’s good mood slipped away, flowing out of the car and drifting away on the wind passing outside. Carlton patted his knee twice. “It was a good spot, and online it’s getting good comments.”

“Then we’re done for the day?” Logan asked. What he needed was a day of peace and quiet.

“Yes. Your trainer will be at the house at three this afternoon. Other than that, there’s nothing for the rest of the day.” Carlton settled back in the seat, and Logan stayed quiet. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. Logan pulled out his phone, checked the time, and answered a few messages from his agent as well as one from his business manager.

“I want something to eat,” Logan said. “Maybe we could stop….” God, he wanted a burger so bad. Maybe something familiar would soothe his jangled nerves. What he wouldn’t give for a Big Mac and fries right about now.

“Already set. I have lunch waiting at the house when you get back so you can be ready to go with your trainer.” Fucking hell, he couldn’t even eat what he wanted to. “You have to get in shape, and that’s going to take some effort. You asked me to make sure you were ready for this part, and I promised to do my best.”

Logan knew that was true, but what he really wanted was some real food and a chance to be around a few real people, talking about real things and not this eternal Hollywood bubble that warped everything until it was unrecognizable. Rather than fight Carlton, who was only doing what Logan had asked, he once again looked out the window, right leg bouncing slightly as they rode.

After they arrived at the house, Logan had lunch, watched the entertainment news, and finally poured himself a drink. He savored the cool, clear liquid. Ice clinked in the glass, and he tried to relax. It didn’t take long for th

e drink to turn into a second one, and then Logan put the bottle away. The jitters had subsided, and he didn’t feel like he was going to climb out of his skin. Switching to water, he changed clothes and was ready when Jason arrived for his training session.

“You’re doing well,” Jason encouraged as he put Logan through his paces. “We want to work you good, but not push it too much.”

Still, Logan worked hard. That had never been his issue. Hard work was something he’d been brought up with, and once he started the workout, he threw himself into it. Sweat rolled down his back and chest as he went through Jason’s nearly sadistic routine. Once that was done, he spent half an hour on the treadmill, watching television to take his mind off the time. Then he showered and changed, figuring he’d relax out by the pool and give himself some down time.

The water shimmered in the southern California sunshine, and he sat back on the lounge under the pergola with a bottle of water, his mind clear and finally quiet.

“I thought you could use one of these.” A martini slid into his field of vision.

He set the glass aside. “What are you doing here?” Logan asked Grant, a neighbor and friend of sorts, who stood next to the chair in one of the smallest bathing suits known to man. They had had a thing—very short-lived—maybe a year and a half ago. Nothing had come of it, but that never stopped Grant from hanging around.

He plopped himself down on the other chair, making sure his ample assets were on display. “I heard that a certain movie star was all alone and might need some company.” Which was code for he’d seen the car pull in and figured Logan was home so he popped over. “I asked a few friends over this afternoon, but since you’re alone….” He leaned back.

“Grant, I need a day of quiet.”

The gate swung open, and a group of guys strode into the yard before he could finish his thought. He should have known. This was Grant, a force of nature, the ultimate party boy, and he definitely knew how to get things

started.

“Don’t worry. I figured you wouldn’t want to come over, so we brought the party to you.” Grant grinned as the guys all approached carrying something in their hands. Food, bottles—everything for a party came through the gate, along with a parade of some of the hottest men ever, who slipped off their shirts and shorts before wandering around the pool. Music started, and Grant directed everything with ease, though he hardly moved from his spot.

“Do I ever let you down?” Grant flashed Logan his biggest smile, and Logan sighed. What the hell, it was a party. He took the icy glass that Grant offered and downed half of it in a few gulps. The warmth spread through him. Then he finished the drink and reached for another.

CHAPTER 2

 

 

“ARE YOU sure you’re okay?” Brit Stimple asked quietly, standing off to the side and out of the area being used for shooting. He didn’t want to talk very long because his mother thought he was waiting tables rather than as crew for adult films. Hopefully they were done for the day and he could go on to his real job—or at least what he thought of as his real job. This one paid the bills, but it was also his big secret and one he had no intention of adding to his résumé.

“I’m fine, honey, so stop worrying. I already called the insurance company, and they’re taking care of everything.” At least she sounded all right, and that alone calmed Brit down after the terrible morning they’d had. A man hadn’t been paying attention and had rear-ended their car hard on Beverly Drive, and that had pushed them into the car in front. Brit had been able to get out, but his mom had needed some help. And man, had it shown up—in the form of Logan Steele. He’d gotten Brit’s mom out of the car, and Brit vowed to see every one of his movies at least twice just to say thank you. “It’s all under control, and I got to cop a feel of Logan Steele.” She giggled, and Brit knew she was back to her old self. “I’ll talk to you later. I have news to spread.” She hung up, and Brit put his phone back in his pocket and turned toward the director as he quickly reviewed what they’d shot. He declared they were done for the day, and Brit grabbed his jacket and snagged a few power bars off what passed for the catering table, ready to get out of there.

Brit scooted out of the building and to his car, then hurried away from the San Fernando Valley as quickly as he could. He always felt dirty whenever he was done, but it paid the bills and allowed him to keep his tiny apartment in West Hollywood, which was where he was heading. Brit had managed to get a part in the West Hollywood Players all-male version of Oklahoma!—or Oklahomo!, as he referred to it in his mind. His phone rang through the car while he was on the freeway, and Brit answered it.

“Hey, Clive, what’s going on?” he asked.

“Oh, honey. I just heard. Are you okay?” Clive gushed a million miles an hour. He and Clive had been neighbors and best friends since they were five. They’d each lost their father, Brit’s to cancer and Clive’s to a divorce and remarriage to a girl three years older than Clive.

“I’m fine,” he breathed. “I’m on my way to the theater now. Things ran over, and I’m trying to get there. Don’t let any of those queens snap a garter because I’m not there yet.” Acting and theater were the things he loved, and he wouldn’t miss a performance if his life depended on it.

“Okay. I’ll tell them,” he agreed. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Brit rolled his eyes and slowed as he came upon heavy traffic. “What do you think? I spent the morning dealing with an accident, but managed to get to the day job on time, and there I spent the day watching eight guys suck and fuck in every position known to man while Harvey, the director from hell, enlisted me to be the voice of one of the guys because

I can apparently fake complete and total ecstasy better than anyone on the damned planet.” Brit was wrung out.

Clive snickered and then lost it on the other side of the phone. “I’m sorry, honey, but that’s what you get when you’re the king of porn voice-overs.” He continued laughing.

“It’s not funny.” Traffic started forward. “Do you know how frustrating that is? I’m there just off camera. ‘Oh baby, that’s it. Yeah… fuck me harder… oh yeah… fuuuuccckkk… oh yeah, oh yeah… fuuuccckkkk….’ And I don’t even get to do the fucking. Not that I’m ever letting anyone film me having sex, because I don’t want to break the cameras.” He was well aware that he didn’t have the body or the internal fortitude it took to act like getting rammed up the ass by the biggest dick on the planet was an experience that completely rocked his world… on camera. “But still, hours of it, and one of the guys is great. You’d swear he was over the moon—until he opens his mouth and blows the illusion, if you’ll pardon the pun, completely to hell.”

“And that’s where you come in… sort of,” Clive chimed in. “Do you at least get paid for the voice-overs in addition to what else you do?” He was having way too much fun with this.

“Yeah, I do. But I keep hoping something will happen and I won’t need to do the porn thing anymore.” Though he liked eating, and this paid the bills and allowed him to do what he really loved—theater. Still, he shrugged and breathed a sigh of relief as he merged over to take his exit. “Anyway, I’m getting off the freeway. I’ll be at the theater in, like, ten minutes.”

“I saved you a place to park,” Clive said, still chuckling as he hung up.

Brit knew that sometimes life was stranger than fiction; he only wished that someone else’s life would take center stage in that category for a few minutes. He wasn’t a complicated person. Brit’s greatest wish was to be able to make a living doing what he loved—preferably in front of the camera and with his clothes on. A chuckle rose up as the thought flashed through his mind. That was something he didn’t have

the balls for, and he laughed at his own internal pun. He liked to think he had a gift, but then so did every other actor in Hollywood. No, Brit had seen tons of movies where the part of a lifetime came with strings that cost someone more than they were willing to pay. Brit hoped to hell that if he got the chance, he’d be strong enough to resist temptation and stay true to himself. But then again, he would only ever know if opportunity actually came knocking, and so far it hadn’t.

 

 

AN ALL-MALE version of Oklahoma! He supposed there were worse ways to kill a little time until the clubs really got going, and the theater had a bar. Logan sat, and one of the servers took his martini order. Of course he’d be recognized, but the staff must have been trained well enough that no one bothered him or asked for an autograph.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked Grant, who sat next to him. He’d brought a couple of the boys along too, but they seemed deep in their own conversation.

Grant shrugged and hefted his glass. “What does it matter? If it’s bad, we’ll drink a little and then head out. It’s not like we have to actually stay.” He downed his cocktail and ordered another as the curtain went up.

The costuming—what there was of it—was basic and a little cartoonish, which made it charming. Logan raised his drink to finish it and got ready to go as Curly came on. Most of the cast had a community theater vibe about them, but not this guy. He had intensity and a flow to his movements. It took Logan just a few seconds to recognize the guy from the car accident. He set his drink on the table, smiling at Curly’s antics, unable to take his eyes off him.

“I think we can go,” Grant said, but Logan waved him away, not saying a word or taking his gaze from the stage. “Logan….”

He waved his hand again without turning, and Grant grew quiet. Not that Logan would have noticed or cared. He smiled and laughed with the man’s c

omic timing. The other actors didn’t take themselves too seriously and had fun with the story, which made it all the more enjoyable.

The first half ended, and Logan realized his drink sat untouched and that he was smiling. He pushed the glass away, ready for more of the show.

“I think we’ve seen enough,” Grant said.

“Then leave,” Logan said more sharply than he intended. But on second thought, he didn’t really care. He’d spent over an hour without worrying about movies or box office receipts or anything else, and he wanted to hold on to that if he could.

Grant left the table, and Logan just sat still. When Grant returned with more drinks, he set one in front of Logan, who sipped it absently until the curtain went up again. He promptly forgot about it as soon as Curly returned to the stage.

 

 

THE PLAY was a hit, at least as far as the audience was concerned. The house was packed, and the applause went on and on. Brit was sweaty and sticking to the cow-patterned chaps he wore in his part as Curly. The company had camped it up big-time, and the laughter told them all that it was working. The play wasn’t art and never would be, but the audience had a good time, and the actors always made a point of responding to their reactions in order to bring everyone into the experience.

“Guys,” Clive breathed as though he were about to either pass out or plotz at any second. “You’ll never guess who’s out front.” He practically bounced from foot to foot. “Logan Steele and a bunch of his friends. Jan in the box office said they just showed up, and she made special room for them.” He rubbed his hands together.

“He must be here to see me,” Joshua said. He’d played Lawrence, Curly’s love in

terest.

Clive flounced over. “Sorry, Miss Thang, but everything is not about you.” He bumped Brit’s hip. “He asked to talk to Curly.”

Joshua rolled his eyes. “My ass.”

“And maybe he’d be asking for you if you had one,” Clive retorted, and a chorus of ooooohs went through the entire cast as Clive pressed Brit to his seat. “Now you, honey, get that costume off and into some cute clothes.” He rummaged through a suitcase and came up with black jeans and a light blue T-shirt. “Grease yourself into these if you have to and get out there pronto. I don’t know how long he’s going to stay.” Clive practically tugged off his costume, and Brit changed as quickly as he could, sucking in his breath and everything else to get those pants on.

“There’s no way I’m getting into this shirt.” His arms were stuck over his head, but Clive pulled it down. “It’s too small. Everything is.”

“Honey, this shows off all your assets, so you just go with it. Now put some shoes on and get out there before he leaves.” Clive waited three seconds—just long enough for Brit to get his shoes on—and then he was pressing him out of the room and down the hall to the side door.

Brit pushed it open and stumbled right into Logan Steele’s arms—strong arms. Brit’s breath hitched as he was surrounded by the manliest scent he had ever inhaled. He lifted his gaze and stared into the same blue eyes he had seen on the screen in the theater—except these were filled with loneliness and yearning that hit Brit in the gut. That was something he hadn’t seen at the movies.

“Umm, thanks,” Brit said as he got his feet under him. “I’m okay.” He turned to glare at Clive just before the door closed behind him. Brit pushed past the flutters and stood taller. “I wanted to thank you for helping my mom and me this afternoon. I really appreciate it.”

He seemed a little taken aback for a second, before composing himself. “How is she?” Logan asked, his gaze burning into Brit like a blazing fire, radiating heat that started at the base of his spine and went up and down his entire body in seconds. “I’m sorry we had to leave in such a hurry. Did everything work out?”

“Yes. Everything is fine,” Brit answered, his throat dry.

“Logan, are you going to introduce us to your little friend?” a man asked from one of the front tables near the stage.

Brit bristled and was about to cut the guy to shreds, but Logan beat him to it.

“No, I don’t think so, Grant,” he snapped and then turned back to Brit with a smile that would melt butter. “Do you have to stay here? Can you leave?”

Brit nodded and was swept away. “What about your friends? And you don’t even know my name.” He was a little confused and overwhelmed.

“They are perfectly capable of getting a ride home, and they’re not my friends. They’re more hangers-on.” He continued heading for the door, holding Brit’s hand. “And I know your name. Your friend told me what it was. Is Brit short for something?”

Brit found himself being dragged along in Logan’s wake, like iron flakes to a magnet.

“Brighton Stevens,” he answered. “But everyone called me Brit, and it just stuck.”

“Logan,” Grant called as he strode up, “what’s going on? We’re planning to head on over to a club a few blocks away. You should come with us and bring your new friend.”

Brit narrowed his gaze. “What’s with you?” he asked, moving away from Logan. “I’m right here, and I have a name, and I’ll decide where I go and what I do.” He looked the guy over. “No one’s telling me that. Certainly not some eunuched Ken doll wannabe, all primped and pressed, but with nothing to offer where it counts.” He turned away and headed for the door, not looking back to see if Logan or anyone else followed him. He figured he’d get in his car and drive home.

“Brit,” Logan said as he approached from behind him.

Brit stopped again. “Why don’t you just go with your friends?” It had been a long day, and he was tired and had put up with all he could.

“I’d rather go with you,” Logan said in his aged-whiskey-rough voice.

Brit still resisted. Things like this didn’t happen to him. Movie stars didn’t just walk into his theater and take him by the hand.

“I need to tell my friends,” Brit told him. Maybe he was a fool for even thinking of goi

ng with Logan at all.

Clive hurried out from the back, with half the rest of the cast following behind him. “We’ll get your car to your place for you.” Clive hugged Brit. “Go and have a good time. It isn’t every day that a movie star takes a shine to you.” He patted Brit on the back and then herded the other guys away. “Call me tomorrow!” he threw back over his shoulder with a smile.

“Shall we go?” Logan asked, practically sweeping Brit off his metaphorical feet and out of the theater to where the same limousine he’d seen at the accident waited. The driver got out, but Logan waved him away and opened the door himself. Brit slid into another world, and then Logan climbed in and closed the door, and the car glided away, almost like it wasn’t moving at all.

“This is something else,” Brit commented, trying not to sound like some hick, even though he was surrounded by automotive luxury he’d never even dreamed about.

“Would you like a drink?” Logan pulled out a bottle from the rack and poured himself a glass. Brit shook his head and then changed his mind and took a water. He didn’t want to drink anything else. This would be over as soon as the sun came up, and he wanted to remember every second. “Do you want to go somewhere?”

“I am hungry. I don’t usually eat before shows…,” Brit started, and Logan pressed a button.

“Please call in an order somewhere—steak, salad, the works. And have it delivered to the house. Thank you.” Logan let up on the button, and they continued their ride.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I didn’t expect to see you again after this morning,” Logan answered as he stretched out his long legs. “Then one of the guys suggested we go out, and he had tickets to the show, so we went. He figured it would be a hoo

t, but then I saw you.”

“I heard the guys talking and being snarky.”

Logan nodded. “But I shut them up because you were good, and I couldn’t take my eyes off you in those silly cow-print chaps.” He finished his drink and poured himself another. Brit reached for the bottle, and when Logan handed it to him, he recapped it and put it back in the bar. Logan stared for a second and then continued, “You had real presence. Just like this morning. My manager had to drag me away.”

“I can’t believe it was you who came to the rescue.” Brit was going to have a hard time forgetting that. It had been worthy of a movie scene. “Mom is fine and just as feisty as ever, thanks to you. But I’m wondering why you’re doing this with me.” He took a sip of water. “I’m just some guy in the play you saw tonight. You helped me, and I’m grateful, but that isn’t a reason to take me on the great limo ride back to your house.” He was really trying to figure this out. “What is it you want?”

Logan set his glass in one of the holders. “I don’t know. Maybe some time with someone who isn’t part of the business.” He leaned forward, those intense eyes meeting Brit’s. “Why did you come with me? Was it because you wanted something from me?”

Brit shrugged. “No.”

“Why not? Everyone wants something—the studio, managers. Hell, my gardener once asked me if I’d look at his script. In this town, every single person is looking for something or wants something. A leg up, a word, something.”

Brit shook his head. “That must be one fucking lonely life.” He drank some more water, still unable to believe he was in a limousine with Logan Steele and trying to figure out what about him had caught his attention. “Yeah, I want a career and to stop having to do production and voice-over work for adult films. And I’d like to be able to get parts where my wardrobe wasn’t sewn, duct-taped, and pinned together from fabric bought down at the mall because it was on sale. But not at any cost, and I’m not going to sell myself or my soul to get it.” He sat back in the seat, figuring he might as well enjoy the ride. “And I’m not going to… I don’t know… parlay a limousine ride into a career move.” He knew he had talent, but so did most of the other p

eople scraping to try to get noticed in this business.

Logan turned to look at him, staring into Brit’s eyes as he reached for the bottle again. Brit placed his hand on Logan’s, and he set his empty glass aside. “I don’t understand you,” Logan admitted.

“What’s not to understand?” Brit asked. “I’m a guy who works hard for what I have, and I don’t think that someone is going to just come along and give me what I want on a silver platter. And I don’t want anything from you.” He smiled and slid closer to Logan. “Besides, I wasn’t the one who came up to you, remember? I seem to recall that you were the one who latched on to me and asked me if I wanted to go.” He held Logan’s gaze, those huge, incredible eyes staring back into his. “I think I should be the one to ask you what it is you want. I have nothing to give a guy like you.”

Logan lifted his hands and slid them along Brit’s cheek, then tugged him down and into a kiss that sent electricity coursing through him. Ten minutes ago, Brit had been tired and hungry; now, in seconds, he was energized and on fire. Logan tasted of alcohol sharpness, which quickly faded to the deep, rich, mellow taste of the man underneath. Brit returned the kiss, passion hitting him like a freight train. He had been with guys before—more than he wanted to admit to—but none of them had set him on fire with just a kiss.

He was tempted to press Logan back on the seat and take everything he could possibly get, but instead he pulled back as the limousine made a turn and slowed. Brit blinked as the world around him righted itself and returned to focus, centering on Logan, who still had his hand on Brit’s cheek. “You’re something else,” Logan whispered.

Brit shrugged. “I’m just me.” He started when the door opened, not even realizing they had stopped. Man, how had he missed that, and what the hell had happened to him? For a few seconds it felt like he had been pulled into another dimension containing only him and Logan.

Logan didn’t move, and the door stayed open. Maybe he’d felt the same way. Brit didn’t know. But then the spell broke, and Logan climbed out of the c

ar and extended his hand. Brit took it, and Logan led him up a cobbled walk with lighted landscaping all around. It looked like a fairy-tale scene, with a riot of color everywhere. The air carried the sweet scent of the flowers, and Brit couldn’t help pausing to inhale.

“Come inside,” Logan whispered, guiding him through the front door and into a house that took Brit’s breath away.

The entire back wall of the main floor was glass looking out over the pool, which shimmered with light. Palm trees lined the yard, carpeted with a perfect lawn and still more flowers. Logan walked over to the bar just off the kitchen. “What can I get you?”

“Nothing, thanks,” Brit said, still captivated by the modern yet surprisingly warm space. He liked it.

A cork popped, and Logan handed him a glass of sparkling wine.

“We have to have something to make this special,” Logan said. He took a sip from his glass as the back door opened and the driver came in and placed a bag on the counter.

“Thank you,” Brit prompted, bumping Logan’s shoulder.

“What?” Logan asked.

Brit shook his head. “He was nice.”

“Thank you,” Logan said with a smile, and the driver left.

“Do you know his name?” Brit asked as he started unpacking the food.

“I use a limousine service, so the drivers vary. But you’re right. That was good of him.” Logan drained his glass and poured himself some more, then got plates and silverware and took a seat at the bar, patting the chair next to him. Brit climbed up and opened the packages. His mouth watered at the perfect steak that awaited him. This was no regular takeout container, that was for sure, because there was a pack in the bottom to make sure the meat stayed hot. Logan plated the food and slid Brit’s over to him.

He took a bite and rolled his eyes, it was so good. Logan chuckled next to him. “What did you do before you were a movie star?” Brit asked.

Logan took a bite of his salad. “I was a mechanic for a while. Terrible at it. I waited ta

bles. I think I was awful at that too, because I kept getting the orders wrong. I always wanted to be an actor, but I got lucky as hell. One of my auditions got me a small part in a TV series. That episode had a guest director, and he offered me a part in his next movie. From there, everything took off.” Logan slowly continued eating while Brit dug in.

“Family?” Brit asked, and Logan shook his head. “I see.”

“You?” Logan asked.

“I have friends. You saw Clive tonight, and you saved my mom this morning.” Brit placed his hand on Logan’s shoulder. “I don’t think I will ever be able to thank you enough for what you did. My mother is going to tell all her friends that she got to spend her morning in the arms of Logan Steele.” He lightly stroked down Logan’s rock-hard arm. “That was really brave of you.”

“No.” Logan drank some more and poured himself another glass. Brit got up and grabbed a bottle of water, pushed the wineglass away, and handed Logan the water instead. The stare he fixed Brit with could have frozen the water in the bottle solid, but Brit pretended not to see it. It wasn’t as though he had anything against alcohol, but the way Logan seemed to suck it down was concerning. Brit had seen what alcohol could do to a person. His father had left, but before that, it had been months of his parents fighting and plenty of alcohol-fueled rages that had left Brit hiding under his bed while his father ranted at his mom. After that, he’d grown up without a dad, and as he looked back on it, he and his mom were both better off.

“Sore topic?” Brit asked. “It was just Mom and me. Dad found a younger model and left the two of us high and dry.” He finished the steak. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

“I’m supposed to be watching my weight for a role that starts in a few weeks.”

Brit reached over and stole the potato off Logan’s plate. “There. Now it’s diet. So eat.” He got the feeling that a lot of Logan’s calories came in liquid form, which wasn’t a good idea as far as he was concerned.

“What about you? Will you eat all that?” Logan asked.

Brit dug right in. He finished his steak, the vegetables, and part of his own potato. He left the one he nabbed on the plate. “I need my energy.” He grinned and tapped Logan’s plate, pleased when he started eating. He gave

Logan a glare when he stopped, and Logan finished the steak. Brit placed the dishes in the sink and looked around again. “I love the tiger,” he said, pointing to a large sculptural piece of a tiger stalking its prey.

“I do too. Art isn’t something I know anything about, though. My decorator helped me pick it out.” Logan took Brit’s hand again, and Brit slipped off the stool. Logan slid open the glass doors, and they stepped out into the night. He led Brit to the lounge chairs beside the pool. Brit stretched out, and Logan did the same on the one beside him. “I love it out here. I just wish there were stars. It’s about the only thing I miss from Michigan.” Brit held Logan’s hand and stayed silent. “Well, that and my parents.”

Brit squeezed his hand. “I grew up here, and I know how you feel.” He kept his eyes directed toward the sky, which glowed with the lights of the city, only a few stars bright enough to shine through. He concentrated on those few.

Logan sat up on his lounger, and Brit did the same, turning to face him, their knees alternating. Logan leaned forward, and Brit did too, as though he were on a string. The kiss was just as hot and intense as it had been in the car. Logan knelt down and drew Brit closer, holding him tightly, as though he expected Brit to bolt.

Brit slipped his fingers through Logan’s soft hair, cradling his head, deepening the kiss to the point he could think of nothing else. He knew he was already in trouble with the intensity between them. This was overwhelming, and he needed a chance to think—but Logan only pulled back far enough for them to inhale before slamming their lips together once more, stealing Brit’s breath and wiping aside his better judgment.

Logan stood and tugged Brit to his feet. Brit gripped him tighter, practically climbing Logan. He was so turned on he couldn’t think straight, and when Logan moved, they went together.

“Where are we going?” Brit asked through his lust-induced haze. Logan felt so go

od against him, holding him with hot, solid, powerful arms, and yet there was something almost desperate in him. Brit could feel it. The thing was, it wasn’t the usual kind of desperation, but something Logan was looking for so hard and yet seemed unable to find. Brit knew that feeling. It had been a constant part of his life since his father had left him behind.

“I thought we could go upstairs.”

Brit backed away. “I don’t think so.” All his friends would think he was crazy for turning down sex with Logan Steele, but something in the back of his mind told him that was not a good idea. At least not now. He gazed into Logan’s searching eyes. “Look, it’s been great hanging out with you. Thank you for dinner. And if I can make my brains work after the way you kissed me into next week, I’m going to ask you if someone could drive me home. I can get an Uber otherwise. It’s no big deal.” Maybe he was making the biggest mistake of his life.

Logan backed away. “I see.”

Brit smiled, keeping his eyes on Logan, holding him without touching. “I don’t think you do. But that’s okay.” He closed the distance between them. “You’re a great guy, and I thank you for what you did for my mom… and for giving me a night I’ll remember forever.” He took Logan’s hand. “But I think it’s best if I say good night and go on home.” He squeezed Logan’s fingers.

“I’ll drive you home,” Logan offered, but Brit shook his head. “Then just a minute.” He pulled out his phone and texted, then waited a few seconds. “They’ll be here in a few minutes. The driver will take you wherever you want to go.” The energy inside Logan seemed to have drained away, and his eyes had lost some of the sparkle from earlier.

Brit slipped his arms around Logan’s neck and pulled him down, planting one on him that left him shuddering and had Logan quivering in his arms. Then he drew back, smiling at how huge Logan’s eyes had grown. His cheeks were flushed, and his lips were swollen and oh-so-kissably succulent. Damn, it was so hot that Brit was able to do that to him.

“Will I see you again?” Logan whispered.

Brit let his hands fall back to his side. “That, Logan Steele, is up to you.” He stroked Logan’s cheek, holding his hand there just long enough for Logan to lean into the touch, and then he slowly walked to the door, stepping outside just as the car pulled into the drive.