“It was all right,” he muttered.

I knew he was lying. I gave him a smirk to let him know I wasn’t buying it.

He pursed his lips. “I kept messing up my lines. I had a hard time concentrating today.” He shook his head in disgust.

My hands massaged his shoulders. “Today is over. Put it behind you. Things will be better tomorrow, you’ll see,” I whispered in his ear.

He gave me a brief smile, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He ran his warm hands over my back.

I found myself getting aroused by trying to get him in a better mood. I nibbled his ear. He let out a pleasurable moan.

His hands slid forward over my ribs; his thumbs rubbed over my breasts. My body instantly tingled from his touch.

“Mr. Christensen,” I murmured on his lips, “your presence is requested in the bedroom.”

He smiled before locking his lips to mine.

Twenty minutes later I resumed my position behind the bar with a smug smile on my face. When I left Ryan, he still had his jeans wrapped around his left ankle and he was lying flat on his back on the bed.

I was pleasantly surprised when Ryan came down to the pub a little while later. He was wearing my tattered Mitchell’s Pub baseball hat and a satisfied grin. It pleased me to see him wearing another one of my possessions.

He took a seat next to Kyle and never took his eyes off of me for the rest of the night. Kyle stopped every girl that stepped up to Ryan and politely asked them to leave Mr. Christensen alone. Kyle also shooed away every girl that was brave enough to approach him as well. I had a new appreciation for my bodyguard. So did Ryan.

The next morning, Kyle arrived exactly as scheduled to drive me to the lawyer. He placed the box of evidence Ryan and I had gathered from our stalker in the trunk of the car before escorting me out of the pub safely. I felt his hand press in my lower back as he held the car door open for me.

His cologne was soft and masculine and wrapped my head in confusing thoughts. The paparazzi thoroughly loved the new image in their lenses.

Once I was finished meeting with our new lawyer, Kyle drove me back to the pub and escorted me into the building. The paparazzi were relentless with their aggravating questions, although I think it was apparent to them that Kyle was a bodyguard by the way he shielded me.

Kyle did a safety sweep of the pub, the bathrooms, and my apartment before leaving me alone for the afternoon. He would return before four o’clock when I opened to the public.

After Ryan came home and we had dinner together, I resumed my spot behind the bar. Ryan eventually came downstairs into the pub and sat next to Kyle. My bodyguard was excellent at keeping the unwanted women at bay. Finally Ryan was able to just hang out and drink a beer while watching sports on the big screen… just like a normal person. That still didn’t stop women from taking pictures of him with their camera phones.

Ryan was in mid sentence, telling me a funny story about what Kat did on set this morning, when I noticed a group of women walk into the bar.

One particular woman stood out – the one with kinky-curly hair and eyes like the devil.

“Oh my God, Ryan!” I gasped. “She just walked in! Run!” I ordered.

“Kyle! That’s her!” Ryan breathed out as he stood up; his haste caused his barstool to tip back and tangle in his legs. Ryan’s body stumbled backwards into mine. I caught him ineptly in my arms as his off-balance body weight pushed me back into the wall. We both looked on in terror as Angelica made her approach.

She was heading straight for Ryan and me; her eyes never left us. Her skin was sallow and the dark circles under her eyes made her look even more menacing in the dimmed pub lighting. She was on a mission and nothing was going to stop her.

Kyle moved so fast that it was hard to discern his actions. With one precise strike, he placed her in an arm and headlock; a split second later she was face down on the ground. With expert movements, he had her hands restrained behind her back.

“Ryan! Why are you doing this to me?” Angelica cried and screamed. “I love you!” she yelled. “That bitch has brainwashed you! I’m gonna kill her!” My fingers trembled as I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed 911.

Ryan was granted the morning off from filming on the day of the court hearing. He put on his suit jacket and I wore my nice dress pants and a cream colored sweater underneath my black suede coat. I knew we’d be photographed and filmed relentlessly. Ryan’s manager arranged to have a security team escort us in and out of the courthouse.

Ryan and I scurried into the large, black SUV that waited for us in the alleyway. Kyle and Mike, our bodyguards, shielded us as we climbed into the vehicle. Directly behind our car was another black SUV with additional security guards. Ryan’s Publicist, Marla, was already seated in the other car.