Chapter 32

When Adam stepped out of the shower the next morning, Chloë was already dressed. She sat at a dressing table applying make-up. “Hurry up, Ads. This morning is the only free time I’ve got this week. I don’t want to waste it.”

He walked up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “So why are you already dressed?” He slid his hands down her front and cupped her breasts.

She giggled and pushed his hands away. “I didn’t mean that—although it’s not a bad idea. I meant that I want to go shopping. It’s not every day a girl gets to visit Rodeo Drive.”

“Oh. Shopping. Does this mean I get to carry all your bags?”

“Stop moaning. I’ll buy you something nice. A pair of designer jeans or something. I need you looking smart when we go to lunch.”

“Aren’t my clothes smart enough?”

She turned to face him. “Adam, we’re having lunch with Sam Bradwell and Michelle Adams. Two of the coolest people on the planet. I don’t think there’s such a thing as smart enough.” She put her hand on the back of his neck and pulled him towards her for a kiss. With her other hand, she removed the towel from his waist and grabbed his cock. “I suppose we’ve got time for a quickie. What do you say?”

“Oh, okay, if you insist.”

Adam didn’t feel completely relaxed in his new jeans, but they had cost Chloë almost three hundred dollars, and he didn’t think he could tell her his tattered old Levi’s were more comfortable. The limo stopped outside an imposing metal gate, beyond which was a long gravel driveway. After the driver had spoken into the security intercom, the gate swung open and the limo rolled through.

Samuel Bradwell’s house was very impressive. A cross between an English country mansion and a Roman villa, it was the biggest house Adam had ever seen. The limo stopped under the concrete canopy built at the entrance to shield visitors from the Californian sun. Sam was waiting for them in the doorway and came to shake Chloë’s hand when she got out of the car.

“Chloë. At last! I was beginning to think that the first time we’d meet would be on set this April.”

“April? I thought filming started in the summer.”

“That was the plan. I’ll explain inside. Don’t worry. I know we have to fit things around your studies. They are the most important thing after all.” His smile and tone were warm and welcoming.

“And you must be Adam.” He held out a giant hand as Adam came around the car to stand with Chloë. “You’re a lucky man. I tell you if was twenty years younger—or even ten—I’d do my best to steal this beauty from you. But, as it is, I’m too old for that sort of thing.” He clapped his hands. “Come in. Come in. Michelle is waiting in the orangery.”

“The orangery?” Adam whispered to Chloë. “Why would you need an orangery in this climate?”

Chloë shook her head and said nothing. It was the first time that Adam had seen her intimidated by a fellow actor. They followed Sam through the house to the back garden—a landscaped oasis the like of which Adam had only seen at old stately homes in the south of England. The orangery turned out to be a separate building about two hundred yards from the main house. It was one storey tall, made of white hardwood and glass, and at least twice the size of Chloë’s house.

“After we graduate,” Adam whispered, “you have to buy a house with one of these.”

The orangery was home to a large swimming pool, a small bar, an eating area and lots of exotic plants. Adam understood why Sam had chosen it for their lunch. It was bright inside thanks to the numerous skylights, massive windows and one whole wall made of glass, but was air-conditioned and cool. Michelle Adams was waiting for them inside, sitting by the bar and sipping a cocktail. She stood up when the three entered, walked across the room and offered Chloë her hand.

“Chloë Goodman. Well, well, well. It’s about damn time. I thought we’d never get you out here. Welcome to L.A., baby. Welcome to Hollywood.”

Chloë shook her hand and smiled nervously. “Th ... Thanks.”

“Aww, ain’t that cute? Sam, I believe our little star is nervous. Trust me, Chloë, there’s no need. We don’t stand on ceremony here. Come on, I’ll get you a drink. What would you like? Vodka and tonic?”

Chloë shrugged.

“Good. And your hunky young man here? Adam, isn’t it? Beer?”