Chapter One

Smith Sullivan loved his fans. They’d supported him from the start of his career and had helped his movies gross nearly two billion dollars worldwide. Without them, he wouldn’t be in San Francisco today, about to begin filming the most important movie of his career.

So, even though he had at least a dozen other important things to take care of before filming could begin, Smith headed straight toward the large group of beautiful women gathered outside the barriers his crew had erected around Union Square where they’d be filming today. Some of the women had brought their young children with them, but most of them were alone, and quite clearly available.

As he approached, he said, “Good morning,” with a smile that held even as the crowd pushed in closer to him.

One smile and two simple words was all it took for a woman to reach out to shake his hand. She pressed a piece of paper with her name and phone number on it into his palm. She was dressed in a tight V-neck top and short skirt despite the cool fog hanging over the square.

“I’m so excited about your new movie, Smith,” she purred. She ran her hand up his arm as if they’d met before, and knew each other well enough that he’d want her to touch him.

“Thank you…” He paused for her to fill in her name, since he’d never set eyes on her before this morning.

“Brittany.”

He smiled down at her. “I’m looking forward to you watching it, Brittany.”

“Oh, I can’t wait,” she said in a husky voice. “And I want you to know that I’m free any time while you’re filming, if you want to talk about it. Or—” She licked her lips. “—for anything else you want to do while you’re in San Francisco.”

Taking her lead, one after the other, the women shook his hand and passed him their phone numbers while telling him that he was their favorite actor and they’d seen all of his movies. The same scene had played out hundreds of times over the past fifteen years, and the truth was that if he’d still been in his twenties, Smith would have been more than happy to take his pick of the beauties back to his place for a night, a week, or even longer, if the woman was easy enough to be with.

But thirty-six was a long way from those early, wild years...and he was tired of waking up next to naked women whose names he didn’t remember, who had never made him laugh, whose families he’d never meet. What a contrast it was to the way so many of his siblings had recently found love and were getting married and having children. Every week he updated the screensaver on his phone with a new picture of his little niece, Emma. Soon, his sister Sophie would have her twins, and he couldn’t wait to put a picture of all three Sullivan babies on there.

Still, even after witnessing just how powerful real love could be, and just what amazing things could come from that love, it was hard to stop the cycle. Because without those strangers in his bed, he was alone.

Alone in another hotel. Alone in another city. Alone in another country. Away from his family and friends. Surrounded by people who either wanted something from him, or treated him like a god rather than a man.

Yes, he could have his pick of these women, but he knew what they wanted: to date Smith Sullivan. And as the past couple of years had ticked by, part of him had begun to wonder if he would ever find a woman who not only meant something beyond a few hot hours between the sheets, but who also wanted him for more than his fame.

Of course, Smith was still a man. A very sensual man who adored women of all shapes and sizes. Which meant that even though he knew a few nights of hot sex didn’t add up to much in the long run, Smith would never be immune to beautiful women.

More specifically, he thought as Valentina Landon walked past in a thick, long wool coat to fight the early morning chill, her eyebrows raised as she took in the women gathered and giggling around him, he was drawn to one woman in particular.

“Valentina,” he said, with the intention of making her stop in her tracks.

She turned to look at him without the slightest bit of the flirtatiousness that the two dozen women he’d just been speaking to had been pouring all over him. “Yes?”

“Do you and Tatiana have everything you need this morning?”

“Everything’s perfectly in order, thank you,” she said in a crisp voice. “Do you need anything from us before filming begins in—” She looked at the slim watch on her wrist. “—an hour?”

“Just to let me know if you or Tatiana have any problems, or need anything from me at all.”

She nodded, her pretty mouth softening slightly as she said, “Thanks. We will.” Unfortunately, just then her gaze caught on the clump of telephone numbers that had been pressed into his hands, and her eyes narrowed in disgust.

And yet, even with her lips pressed together in clear disapproval as she walked away, she was beautiful.

Smith turned back to his fans and thanked them all for their support one more time before heading back to the trailer that was doubling as his office during filming. Dumping the women’s numbers on his desk without giving them a second thought, he grabbed his script and laptop and walked back out. He was just sitting down in the makeup trailer as his phone buzzed, alerting him to a lighting issue that needed to be worked out before filming could begin.

It was just the beginning of what would be an incredibly busy day, on a set that was all his this time. And as Smith dealt with the first problem of what would surely be many before the day was through, he knew he wouldn’t want to trade his career for any other. Not for the beauty of his brother Marcus’s winery in Napa Valley, not for the thrill of Ryan’s World Series wins pitching for the Hawks, not for the speed of Zach’s race cars.

Smith couldn’t wait to begin filming Gravity.

The young woman in the middle of the sidewalk was utterly beautiful, and yet, the way she moved, dressed, wore her hair with pink streaks, her makeup artfully smudged and dark around her eyes, gave her away in an instant as an overwhelmed early-twentysomething on her own in a big city for the first time. With wide eyes she took in San Francisco; the buildings, the traffic, the people rushing all around her, the fog that was rolling in from the bay. For a moment, her mouth almost curved into a smile, but a flash of something that looked too much like fear held that smile back from her full lips.

A stray dog skittered over her cheap red plastic boots and the longing on the girl’s face as she squatted to reach out to the mangy animal was almost painful. Instead of coming toward her open hand, the dirty little dog turned and ran as fast as it could in the other direction.