Starstruck - Book Two

STARSTRUCK:

BOOK TWO

GEMMA BROOKS

   Copyright 2014 Gemma Brooks

    All Rights Reserved

    DISCLAIMER

The characters and
events portrayed in this book are purely a work of fiction and used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental
and not intended by the author.

   MATURE CONTENT

This short story
contains sexually explicit material and is intended for persons over the age of
18 only. By downloading and viewing this book, you are stating that you acknowledge
that this book has mature content. All of the characters involved in the sexual
situations of this story are intended to be at least 18 years old or older,
whether they are described as such or not.

The STARSTRUCK Series

Book I

*Book II

Book III

Book IV

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    DESCRIPTION

In less than a week, Brynn Dawson’s life has been turned
upside down. A chance encounter with a hunky actor turned into a whirlwind
romance as he whisked her from the confines of her small Iowa town to the
cityscapes of L.A.

Leaving behind everything she’s ever known and everyone
who’s ever meant anything to her, she soon learns that dating Hudson comes with
certain…complications…and happiness always comes at a price.

At the mercy of the ruthless tabloids and with friends back
home who can’t look past her newly made over façade, Brynn must navigate her
new life in the spotlight with Hudson while struggling to make everyone happy.
But can she do it? And is it even worth it?

 TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

We picked up our luggage from the baggage carousel at LAX.
The swarms of people around us were nothing short of overwhelming. I’d never
been around that big of a crowd before. I kept looking around, half hoping to
see another famous face, but all I saw were older men in business suits, surfer
dudes, and tall, skinny, big-breasted blondes. It was exactly what I expected
and exactly what I wasn’t prepared for.

I felt so frumpy next to all of them. I was quite sure no
one around me had a purse that cost less than $1,000 or sunglasses that cost
less than $300. Everyone was well-dressed and well-coifed, and the line of
shiny, luxury imports outside in the pick-up lane peppered between taxies and
limousines was nothing short of intimidating.

I felt like I was on some alien planet, and it didn’t help
that Hudson was still giving me a bit of a cold shoulder. Ever since he saw the
text from Luke, his whole demeanor had changed. All I knew was that I was
already here, so I was going to give this a shot. If it didn’t work out, then
I’d worry about Luke. As far as I was concerned, Luke was a day late and a
dollar short. I had made my choice. I had boarded the plane. I had left Rock
River.

“Watch out for the vultures,” Hudson growled.

I soon realized he was talking about the paparazzi that hung
out outside the airport. As soon as we emerged from the building, flashing
cameras and men with handheld cameras swarmed us, yelling out so many questions
and comments my head was spinning. Hudson ignored them all like the professional
he was and eventually they left us alone when they realized they weren’t
getting anything worthwhile.

He wheeled our suitcases out to long-term parking where we
quickly found his black Range Rover. The car was steaming hot and filled my
nostrils with the smell of baked leather and new car scent. I climbed in and
buckled up as he loaded our things in the back.

“No driver?” I teased him, trying to break the awkward
silence.

“Everyone drives themselves out here,” he said. “This isn’t
New York.”

“I was teasing,” I said. I almost reached down into my purse
to pull out my phone out of habit, but I stopped myself. It wasn’t the right
time, and I needed to be present.

He aggressively pulled out of the airport parking lot and
headed straight for the freeway where we merged and spent the next hour
battling stop and go traffic. I’d never seen so many cars in my entire life,
but none of it seemed to daunt Hudson. He was used to it.

“Hudson,” I said as I finally broke the silence an hour
later. “I’m here with you, and I don’t regret this.”

He turned towards me and looked me deeply in the eyes for a
second before reluctantly reaching his hand over and resting it in my lap.

“I won’t lie. This scares the shit out of me,” I said with a
nervous laugh. “But I’m here.”

I interlaced our fingers together and he gave my hand a good
squeeze, still saying nothing.

Hudson turned off a busy road and towards a residential
neighborhood. Signs indicated we were in Brentwood.

“Is this where you live?” I asked.

He nodded.

“I would’ve taken you as more of an ocean kind of guy,” I
said. “I figured you’d be right on the water.”

“I have another place in Malibu,” he said. “But this is my
primary residence.”

We drove under a canopy of thick, tree lined streets and rode
past low lying houses that were hidden behind tall, private gates. It was
nothing short of beautiful and unlike anything I’d ever seen back home in Iowa.

He turned into a narrow driveway surrounded by thick shrubs
and clicked a button near his visor. The private gate opened to let us through
and we pulled forward onto a paved driveway.

The outside of his house was covered in white stucco and
topped with a red tiled roof. Palm trees and various green shrubs lined his
property, providing the perfect amount of shade. A bubbling fountain next to
his front door served as a nice resting spot for two little brown birds, and
his grass was manicured and lush.

“Here we are,” he said as he gently placed his Range Rover
into park.

I couldn’t take my eyes off his beautiful property. It was
so simple yet so private and serene. It was exactly the kind of place I
imagined someone famous living.

I climbed out and headed back to help with the luggage, but
Hudson did it all. I didn’t have to lift a finger. He rolled our luggage
towards his garage and entered some code to open the door. We walked in through
the garage entry and stepped into the most luxurious kitchen I’d ever laid eyes
on.

Marble counter tops, staggered white cabinets, and some sort
of glass backsplash all contrasted against the dark, Jacobean wood floors. A
fresh basket of fruit sat neatly on the center of the oversized island while a
large flower arrangement took center stage on the nearby kitchen table. I’d
never seen anything like it before.

Across from his kitchen was a family room with floor to
ceiling built in shelving and an enormous flat screen TV. Oversized furniture
was arranged ever so perfectly for both conversation and relaxation.

Behind the family room were floor to ceiling sliding glass
doors that led out to a covered patio and the most beautiful pool.

“You okay?” Hudson asked. He had probably noticed I was
slightly in shock.

“Yeah,” I said with a smile. “It’s just all so beautiful.”

“I’ll be right back,” he said as he rolled our bags down the
hall.

I leaned up against the big kitchen island and ran my
fingers along the smooth, cool marble. Every vein was perfect, and I loved how
it felt under the palm of my hand. I glanced up and looked out the picture
window above the farmhouse sink. His back yard was nothing but lush, green
grass, exotic, flowering bushes, lemon trees, and palms.

“Want to go sit outside?” Hudson asked as he came back.

I nodded.

He walked over to an intercom along the wall.

“Flor,” he called over the intercom.

“Yes, Mr. Smith,” a woman with a Hispanic accent soon buzzed
back.

“Can you come to the kitchen please?” he asked.

“Be right there, Mr. Smith,” she replied.

“Flor is my house manager,” he said. “She cooks, cleans, and
does laundry. You name it, she does it. Don’t know what I’d do without her.”

A middle-aged woman with dark hair wearing jeans and a
t-shirt walked into the room holding a bucket of cleaning supplies. Her hair
was swept back into a low pony-tail and her t-shirt was dirty and stained with
bleach.

“Cleaning day,” she said to me, as she appeared somewhat
embarrassed. “I don’t always look like this.”

“Flor meet Brynn,” he said. “Brynn, this is Flor.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said with a slightly cool smile. She
had intense, brown eyes.

“Same here,” I said as I shook her hand.

“I met Brynn out in Iowa,” Hudson explained. “Thought I’d
show her how we live out here.”

Flor smiled and her eyes sparkled when they met his. She
turned back to me, her sparkle dulling a bit before she muttered a forcibly
cordial, “Welcome, Brynn.”

“Would you mind making us a batch of your amazingly
exquisite fresh lemonade?” Hudson asked.

“Not at all,” she said as she reached into the bowl of fruit
on the island and pulled out a few fresh lemons. “Just give me a second.”

“We’re going to head outside for a bit,” he said. “Just
bring it out there when it’s ready.”

“Yes, Mr. Smith,” she said as she pulled out a pitcher from
the cabinet.

Flor would’ve done anything to make him happy. He told her
to jump and she seemed to ask how high. I supposed that’s what she was paid to
do though. I’d never imagined anyone to get so excited over making someone a
batch of lemonade before.

Hudson motioned towards the sliding doors, and I followed
him outside to the covered patio. Pale gray wicker chairs with thick,
linen-colored cushions lined a long, glass outdoor dining table as the whirring
and rushing of the waterfall above the pool splashed in the background.

“This is beautiful, Hudson,” I said as I pulled up the chair
right next to him. “I might never want to leave.”

He cracked a smile, the first one I’d seen since we’d left
Des Moines, and a rush of relief washed over me.

“Here you are,” Flor said as she burst through the doorway
carrying a tray of lemonade towards us. She sat it on the table before placing
coasters in front of us and sitting icy cold glasses of yellow, muddled liquid
on top of them.

Hudson wasted no time in taking a sip.

“Aah,” he sighed as he smacked his lips. “I’ve missed this
so much, Flor.”

I could tell she was tickled as she giggled, thanked him in
Spanish, and went back inside the house.

I took a sip from my glass. Lemonade was usually lemonade to
me, but I had to admit Flor’s lemonade was nothing short of amazing.

“Wow,” I said. “You weren’t joking. Are those mint leaves?
Basil? What is that?”

He leaned back and closed his eyes, looking deep in thought.
I wondered if he was still upset about what happened earlier or if he was just
at home in his element and this was the real Hudson Smith.

“Is everything okay?” I asked. “With us, I mean.”

He opened his eyes and sat straight up, turning towards me.
“Of course.”

“Okay, you’ve just been really quiet,” I said. “Since
earlier.”

He shrugged and placed his hand over mine. “You worry too
much, Brynn.”

“You’re not regretting this are you?” I asked, eyes wide.
“Bringing me here?”

He laughed. “No, not for one second. Don’t think that.
Please.”

“What are you thinking about?” I asked. “A quiet mind is a
busy one. That’s what my dad always said.”

“Everything,” he sighed. “I’m leaving for another movie
shoot in a few more weeks. I’m just trying to think of all the things I want to
show you before I leave. And all the things I want to do to you.”