Free Duchess by Susan May Warren

Hollywood will break it to pieces .”
    Rafe Horne would break it to pieces.
    Besides, it was all a fantasy. As soon as they finished shooting, he’d fly away.
    She’d return home to reality. To Dash and the Studio’s mechanisms.
    And, Dash was right. She couldn’t divorce him. The press would find out. Her public would turn on her. Would think she slept her way to a role via the casting couch.
    Thank you, Dash.
    Even if she did divorce him, he’d keep the studio and her contract. Who knew where he’d loan her out next. Mozambique, maybe, for a Tarzan remake. He’d put her in a sarong and make her swing from vines.
    Rafe’s hands slid over her shoulders, wrapped around her, and he began to hum. She recognized the song.
    â€œLove me or leave me, let me be lonely. You won’t believe me… .”
    â€œI love you only,” he said into her ear, his voice turning her body hot under the cool breezes of the evening. The waves rolled onto the shore like applause in the swaddling of the night.
    She hooked her hands onto his arms, let the rest of the song seep into her, whispering the words. “I’d rather be lonely than happy with somebody else.”
    He hummed a few more bars. Then, “There’ll be no one unless that someone is you…”
    She closed her eyes, let them burn, and tasted salt on her lips.
    â€œWhat’s the matter, Roxy?”
    She shook her head as she opened her eyes and stared out into the ocean. On the other side of the bay, the starlight of San Francisco glittered.
    She sighed against the loneliness hollowing her through. No, no, she couldn’t let herself fall for Rafe. Not really. “The movie’s nearly in the can. I—I don’t want it to end.”
    He turned her. Met her eyes. Oh, he had the power to unravel her, especially with the waves reaching for them, the cool ocean breezes tickling her skin.
    He tipped up her chin and kissed her.
    She should have put her hands to his chest and pushed him away. Should have listened to Clara’s words.
    Maybe should have even remembered that she vowed to belong to another, in word and deed, and that briefly, she and Dash had become man and wife.
    But it didn’t feel like it.
    She forgot it all as Rafe wove his hands through her hair, angling her head, deepening his kiss.
    Rafe.
    She wound her arms up around his shoulders and sank into him, letting herself relax, letting his arms curve around her back, pull her to himself.
    He tasted like the wind. And the night. She wanted to hide here forever.
    He lifted his head, found her eyes. “Roxy—I—after this movie, I want you to come away with me. I want to marry you.”
    Marry. The word slapped the sense right back into her. Marry. See, this was what happened when she let her heart venture too far out of her grasp. She backed away, pressed a hand to her face. Shook her head.
    His expression fell. “What—I’m sorry. I’m moving too fast—”
    â€œNo—” She held up her hands. “Just…”
    â€œWhat is it?”
    She stared at him, the moonlight on his face, enough of a five o’clock shadow to turn him into a bona fide war hero, so much emotion in his eyes, he could make her hand over her heart.
    No.
    She couldn’t do this again. Not only was she not free, but a man like Rafe, a stunt pilot, just might end up in a fiery wreckage.
    And then she’d have nothing left of her heart. She couldn’t be the girl who cared about marriage or a family or a ring on her finger. That was her life with Guthrie.
    That was the life of Rosie Worth.
    She never needed Roxy Price more than right now.
    â€œNo, Rafe. You don’t want to marry me.” She flicked her hand across her cheek, found a dangerous smile. “Trust me.”
    He stood in the sand, frowning as she walked toward him. The wind had her hair, pasted her dress to her body.
    â€œI—I think I