Chapter Two

Edward watched the house for several minutes, wondering for the hundredth time what the hell was he doing there. It had taken some diversion tactics by his friends for him to slip unseen by the paps near the entrance of gated home. Could he walk a hundred yards without being spotted? The house wasn't big—modest most would say—easily the most colorful house on the street. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, meeting his reflection in the rearview mirror. The darker shade of his hair helped disguise him somewhat, as did the color contacts, but his scruffy jaw was still easily spotted.

A movement across the street caught his attention, his gaze landing on a beautiful woman standing on her tiny porch, staring in his direction. His eyes roamed over her curves as her hands rose to sit on her hips. The move drew his gaze there, and he wanted to know what it would feel like to hold her there, too. It clearly had been too long.

His untraceable, disposable cell phone vibrated on his thigh. It shouldn't have surprised him to find her name on the screen with a text message.

You planning on staring at my house for much longer? I have work to do.

He chuckled, finding her honesty and tenacity refreshing. His net worth and A-List status would prompt most people to kiss his ass, something he often found worked in his favor, until it got boring.

"On my way, Ms. Swan," he said, locking up and pulling the bill of his baseball cap lower. He purposefully hunched his shoulders and relaxed his posture so as to not to look so damn tall; another recognizable trait. At six-four, he stood over a lot of people, even the lithe Ms. Swan, coming in at just under five-nine.

If she recognized him, she didn't show it. "Play along," she said, greeting him with a hug as if he visited often. She gestured for him to walk inside her house while she looked around under the guise of watering the plants on her porch. The door clicked shut behind her a minute later, followed by the turn of three deadbolts. He stood awkwardly in the middle of her living room, his eyes having a hard time settling on anything for long. Her furniture was dark, simple with clean lines, her hardwood floor a few shades lighter. Jake had said she was a mixed media artist, and dabbled in just about everything. It was the artwork covering the walls from floor to ceiling that caught his particular attention, including an altered poster of him.

Damn it.

.

.

.

Bella wanted to pat herself on the back, since she had figured out who her new client was before he arrived. He'd given her all the clues during their brief phone call, including the fact he was highly recognizable and had taken some time off for the next year. His quote of "taking some time off" made headlines for a few weeks. She had told him point blank during their call that the chances of someone not figuring out who he was at Comic Con wasn't high, unless he covered his face. When she tried to tell him what it was like, he simply stated he attended the event before and had been on several panels. It didn't take much research for her to figure it out, his voice being the most important clue. She had recognized it before, just couldn't pinpoint it while they spoke on the phone.

Now she had to make sure she didn't scare him away; the fact he was glaring at his poster made her cringe. She wasn't a fan of him, at least not in the same way some of his fans were nowadays. But she loved the show that had catapulted him to fame. And he was ten years older than her, though he still looked to be in his mid to late twenties.

There had been conflicting reports about him as an actor, as it was with most in the industry. The people who had nothing nice to say about him were likely the ones he refused to fuck. The rest were mostly crewmembers, who remembered how Edward Cullen took the time to learn their names and had an excellent work ethic.

Having worked on several productions in theatre and film, Bella had her fair share of horror stories and only a handful of experiences she'd say were pleasant. Blacklisted for refusing to suck some producer's dick, she still managed to keep herself busy. After winning several accolades in the cosplay world, she had a loyal list of clients willing to pay for some of the more elaborate pieces for their costumes and she had a knack for photographing them.

"You're a fan." He said it with some anger, but also fear. "Was some asshole pap outside to take pictures of our hug on the porch?" She understood his trust issues; she had seen some of the pap videos of various celebrities. "This isn't a good idea."

Bella crossed her arms over her chest, cocking an eyebrow and waiting for him to look at her. When he finally did, he stepped back a little. She had been told when she was pissed, she looked scary as fuck, none of that cute shit with her. Good. "What?"

"I didn't call anyone," she said in a soft tone in an attempt to keep him calm, but her voice started to rise. "I kissed your cheek in case someone was watching. Remember, I asked you to wear jeans, a grey t-shirt, and cap for a reason. My ex is of similar build and height, anyone watching wouldn't think anything of him visiting again."

The scowl he'd worn since he walked inside intensified. "I remind you of your ex?"

"Not really." Dismissing it quickly. "Anyway, I signed an NDA and agreed to be the only one working on the costume. Not even my assistant knows about it, and he's a nosey little shit, but I love him. Please put away the attitude and let's get those measure –" Her phone decided to interrupt her, and the sound was coming from where else?

Her bra.

The bastard was trying hard not to smile or stare at her chest. "Are you going to answer with your nipple this time?" She rolled her eyes. "I don't mind if you answer." He offered her a smile, one she couldn't help but stare at—he had such pretty teeth. And lips. She had hoped he'd at least be a gentleman and turn around, but no, he only grinned, his thumbs hooking into his jean's pockets, looking edible.

Damn him. His hair was considerably darker than his unusual bronze hair, but it was still the same just out of bed look he always had. Dressed in dark washed, perfectly fit jeans, a light grey t-shirt, and blue hoodie, he looked like he had just stepped out of a dirty dream.

Not one of hers, honest.

"Excuse me," she said, shoving her hand in her shirt and pulling out her phone. Another pat on her back was deserved for the sudden shifting in Mr. Cullen's stance and his poor attempt of covering up a groan.

She had an excellent rack and they were real, thank you very much.

It was Seth again. Her studio was on the back end of her property, so she had him take work home and transferred any studio calls to him to maintain her client's privacy. So why was he calling her for the third time in the last hour? Since it was the first day off she'd had in the last three years, he was probably dying to know what the fuck was going on and she wasn't about to tell him.

She typed out a quick message to his number, earning a chuckle from her guest. Client, she had to remind herself.

"Tap any harder and you might crack your screen."

"It's my nosey assistant. I need to nip his need to know everything I'm doing now, before he stops by for something."

"It's not a good idea for your boyfri…assistant to see me here." The anger was back in his voice, but it couldn't be helped. She was just being honest.

"He won't since I just asked him to drop off something to Tanya Kane, the fashion and makeup vlogger." He looked utterly clueless. "Anyway, he loves her. And Seth is not my boyfriend."

His eyes narrowed for a moment, but a second later, he simply nodded. "Where do you want me?"

Her eyes roamed over his chest and flicked to his amazing thighs in those sexy jeans, but only for a second. The answers she had to his question would undoubtedly send him running. "That's a loaded question."