Free Not a Fairy Tale: HarperImpulse Contemporary Romance by Romy Sommer Page A

her off the bike and looked up at the unassuming mid-century stucco building. “I’d have thought after four seasons on a successful TV show, you’d have gone for something fancier.”
    “It’s not all about money,” she said, with a small smile. “I bought this place the first time the show was renewed and it still suits me fine. I don’t need anything bigger and it’s easy to lock the door and leave if I go away on a shoot.”
    And the heavy security ensured at least a modicum of privacy.
    Her muscles had already begun to seize up and she needed Dom’s help to remove the helmet, too. Her arms ached too much to hold up. “Besides, I won’t be on top forever, and when the day comes when I’m no longer relevant, I don’t want to have blown everything I ever earned on a lifestyle I don’t need.”
    No matter how great the temptation, she’d never over-reach herself and risk being homeless again.
    Dominic looked impressed. Wasn’t that just typical? She finally got the man’s attention and she was too tired to capitalize on it. She stood awkwardly beside the bike and glanced around. Looking the way she did right now, she didn’t want to hang around on a public sidewalk any longer than necessary. “Do you want to come inside?”
    “Sure.”
    He followed her inside, through the security gates with their keypad access, past the guard, and across the cool, quiet lobby to the elevator. They rode up in silence. She let him into her unit, a tight knot forming in her stomach as he looked around without a word.
    “Stylish,” he said. But it didn’t sound like a compliment. “How long did you say you’ve lived here?”
    “Six years.” Compared to his homely bungalow, her apartment looked unlived in, even clinical. But it was her safe place, her refuge from the constant bombardment that followed wherever she went these days. Very few people were ever admitted past the door.
    “You take minimal to a whole new level.” Dom followed her into the open-plan kitchen and leaned against a granite-topped counter as she opened the fridge.
    She shrugged. “I don’t like to get attached to material things.” Or to people.
    She pulled a bottle of beer out the fridge; one she hadn’t even remembered was there. “I also don’t have much to offer you. Will this do?”
    He nodded, took a bottle from her and popped the lid. She watched as he drank, swallowing hard against the tug of desire that shot through her. God! It was like watching beer porn.
    Now that she had him here, she didn’t quite know what to do with him. She was too tired, too achy, and too dirty to make any attempt at seduction. Thank heavens there was no one else to see her and judge her in this sorry state. Dom seeing her like this was bad enough.
    “So, when do I start my training?” she asked.
    His eyes glittered. “You already have. But I’m wondering if you even need me at all. We just need a video of you doing what you did this afternoon and we can send it in as your audition tape.”
    “Nice try, but I’m not letting you off the hook that easily.”
    He smiled, moving closer, to stand right in front of her so she was forced to look up at him. “I won’t let you off the hook that easily, either. I’m going to make you work. First, we’re going to need to build your core strength and improve your endurance. I want to teach you some basic tumbling and martial arts, and I have friends who can teach you the other skills you need: firearms training and driving.”
    “I drive,” she said defensively. Though not often since she’d become famous. The day after she’d stopped for gas and been mobbed at the gas station she’d offered the super- organized production assistant on her current movie a job. Wendy had driven her car ever since.
    “A stick shift?” Dom asked.
    Slowly she shook her head. She hoped he couldn’t read her thoughts because he did not want to know what image had just popped into her head at the thought of handling a