Kissed Blind (A Hot Pursuit Novel Book 2) by Emerson Shaw Page B

because she’s getting old and fat.”
    I laughed and slapped a hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry, but Camille looks amazing. She’s nowhere near fat, and she’s worried about looking old? I should be so lucky to look half as good as she does at her age.”
    “Don’t fool yourself. You’re stunning now, and I have no doubt you’ll continue to be.”
    A flash of heat exploded in my body and filled my cheeks. I glanced down, hoping my hair would fall and cover my face. “Thank you, but I’m nothing compared to her. She’s beautiful, but she’s also incredible on the screen. I fell in love with her in Acts of Desperation .”
    “Yeah, you and the rest of the world. If people only knew.” His last words trailed off, and he stared blankly at the city beyond the windows.
    “I know. That movie made her career, but I’ve watched all the behind the scenes stuff about her career and yours. Neither of you had an easy ride to the top, but I guess that’s probably true for half of Hollywood.”
    He sat quietly for a moment, pressing his fingertips together. “We’ve made sacrifices to get here, some bigger than others I suppose.”
    “I can understand that. You sacrifice a lot more than people realize. It has to be annoying to not be able to go to the hospital when you should because pictures will be splashed all over the news. And then the made up stories over why you were there. I’m sure it gets old.”
    “Yes, exactly. There are times where I wish we could just disappear, but we’ve made our beds and there’s no going back now. It would be magnificent though—just once—to walk across the street and grab a cup of coffee and not be mobbed by hundreds of people.” He paused again and a second wave of exhaustion hit him. His shoulders sagged a little lower, and he closed his eyes. He laughed to himself. “I must sound like an ungrateful ass, don’t I?”
    “No, not at all. It can’t be easy.”
    “It isn’t, but for all I have, I have no room to complain. I have more money than most people dream of. I can have anything I want. Hell, I can call the best doctor in the city and have him at my door in minutes. I can have someone hop up and run errands for me and get my wife soup. I can…” He sighed. “Oh never mind, you get the point.” He hopped off the sofa and went over to the wet bar. “Can I get you a drink while we wait for them to get back?”
    “Oh, no thank you. I can’t drink on the job.”
    He glanced at a fancy clock on the wall. “You’re off the clock. I won’t tell if you don’t.”
    I smiled, and as much as I would have loved to sip whiskey next to Oliver Pierce and chat about the little things in life, it was against company policy. However, nowhere did it state I couldn’t hold a glass of whiskey and pretend to drink while discussing life with Oliver Pierce.
    “Okay, sure. Just a small pour, please.”
    “On the rocks?”
    “Sounds great, thanks.”
    He plunked a few ice cubes into two glasses and poured the amber liquid. The ice cracked and popped in the glasses. He moved so smoothly back to me he must have floated across the room to hand me the glass.
    “Cheers,” he said, tapping his glass against mine and raising it to his lips—his perfect actor lips. When he lowered the glass, it was half empty.
    I pretended to sip, but who was I kidding? I wasn’t a hard liquor girl. Wine and beer were my poison, but when Oliver Pierce offers you a whiskey, you take it.  “It must be incredible to do what you do.”
    “I’m not sure I would call it incredible, but it’s a privilege.” He drank again and released a soft moan. “A good whiskey is hard to come by but worth every penny.”
    I smiled and “sipped” again, sloshing the poison against my lips. A rich vanilla-caramel scent tickled my nose, deceiving me into believing the contents would be sweet, but the trace amount that entered my mouth tasted burnt and bitter. I would never acquire a taste for whiskey. “But