Thursday 6:42 a.m.  The farm, porch

Samantha stepped out onto the porch and tugged the zipper on her track suit's top up a little higher.  It wasn't quite cold enough to see her breath in the crisp morning air, but it wasn't exactly balmy either.  For about the millionth time in her life, Samantha wished she was one of those women who could eat anything and never have to exercise to stay slim.  Sighing at the reality of life, she stretched her arms above her head and took a deep breath, trying to work up the enthusiasm for the morning run she really didn't want to do. 

She dropped her hands to the railing and smiled.  At least the view was nice.  The sun wasn't quite up yet and there was still a little bit of fog clinging to some of the lower spots in the pasture.  It was quiet and peaceful.  Caught up in watching the sunrise, Sam didn't notice Russell come around the corner of the porch.  He grinned when he saw her.  It was much too good an opportunity to pass up.  As quietly as he could, he came up behind her and set his tea on the railing as he pressed a soft kiss to her nape.  "Morning, love," he purred in her ear, enjoying the way she jumped. 

The conversation they'd had with his family yesterday about their budding romance had gone over surprisingly well, but this was the first time he'd kissed her where any one of them might happen to see.  It felt good.  On several levels.     

Without turning around, Samantha closed her eyes and leaned back into his wide chest.  "It would be a better morning if I was still in bed."  She and early mornings had never gotten along and probably never would. 

Russell chuckled quietly.  "I'd agree with that, especially if I was there too."  His voice was playful, but also achingly honest.  The truth was he longed for that intimacy with her.  Sex was a part of it.  He was a hedonistic man with a high sex drive and the idea of making love to her excited him.  But it was also so very much more than that.  He wanted that time with her away from the world where he felt safe sharing the real vulnerabilities, his thoughts and feelings.  He'd always liked that part.  That special time where new lovers slowly began to reveal the deepest most private parts of themselves to each other. 

It was a time fraught with excitement and uncertainty.  Would she like what she learned?  Would he?  As the scales fell from their eyes, would what they discovered about each other bring them closer or make him more guarded?  He knew from experience that sometimes a deeper look at someone only served to illustrate the relationship was better left on the surface.  And sometimes, the more light you cast upon someone, the more beautiful they became.  Would sex ultimately make them closer or drive them apart? 

For that matter, what kind of lover would she be?  Responsive?  Inventive?  Submissive?  Uninhibited?  Could he make her come?  He had a lot of experience; enough to know no certainties came with that no matter how much of it you had.  His inquisitive mind wondered other things too.  What did her cunt look like?  What did it taste like? 

That thought brought him back around to his teasing comment about thinking it would have been a better morning if they were in bed together.  His mind sudden conjured a shockingly intense image of her sprawled on her back in his big bed.  His mouth between her legs.  Feeling her creamy walls rhythmically squeeze tongue while he licked her to yet another earth shattering orgasm. 

Hey-- it was his fantasy, after all.  

And it made him smile ruefully against Sam's hair.  International icon or not, he too felt the odd prick of insecurity and compensated just like any other man, by painting himself as the world's best lover, if only within the confines of his own head.  Giving the girl in his arms a gentle squeeze, he decided that maybe he didn't need to be the best lover in the whole world.  He'd settle for being the best she ever had.  But he shrugged away that thought with a wry grin.  He had another more pressing matter on his mind at the moment.  Russell felt his blood tickle with childish delight.  God, he loved a good surprise.  He couldn't wait for her to turn around and get a good look at him.  He just adored getting a good one over on someone.  And that went doubly so for the women in his life.       

When his arms loosened around her, Sam turned in his embrace but her teasing retort stuck in her throat as she got her first look at him.  Her mouth hung open.  He looked nothing like he had last night.  A clipped squeak of surprise escaped before she could stop it and she jerked back in shock, slamming rather inelegantly into the railing hard enough to knock his tea into the bushes. 

He peered after it.  "Fuck me!  I wasn't done with that."  Despite the loss of his tea, it was clear from the mischievous sparkle in his eyes that he'd greatly enjoyed his little joke. 

"You-  You..."  She sputtered.  He looked every inch the movie star this morning.  He was clean shaven and dressed to the nines.  Sam gaped.  She was used to him in boots and jeans with a scruffy beard and long unkempt hair.  This morning he had on dress shoes and black slacks, a thick green sweater that brought out his eyes and a black greatcoat that emphasized his broad shoulders and hung well past his knees, making him seem almost larger than life.

He raised his eyebrows at her and his playful smile turned into a giggle.  "Well now, that was every bit as good as I'd hoped."  He gave her a mournful little smile.  "All except the tea.  I bloody well wanted to finish that."  He looked at his watch.  "No time for another one though, I've got an appointment in Sydney here in a bit.  You know, bit of press and a photo or two."  He rolled his eyes at her, letting her see what he thought of that, and then he grinned.  "Bloody birthdays." 

His publicist had told him in no uncertain terms that with all the horrifically bad press he'd had recently, he not only needed to dispel rumors he was hiding out on the farm, but that he needed to be as 'presentable' (her word) as possible--and that he had to look as if he was enjoying himself.  She hadn't exactly told him to behave himself, but he knew this trip for what it was.  He had an image he had to maintain.  Most of the time he didn't give two shits about that, but even he knew when something had to be tackled head on.  Life went on despite his very publicly failed engagement and it was better to deal with all that shit now than when he started the press junket for his latest film.  Russell looked at Samantha expectantly.  She still had yet to say a single word about his much altered appearance.      

Samantha was suddenly swamped by a feeling of acute shyness, not just because his appearance was so radically different, but also because she'd just gotten a healthy reminder of the kinds of commitments his day job could entail.  Knowing he was a movie star was one thing.  Actually experiencing it in the flesh was something else entirely.  She could feel her cheeks heat and she dropped her gaze, a bit overwhelmed by everything.   

"What's this now?"  He asked softly, tilting her chin back up with his fingers as he ran his other hand over his smooth jaw.  "You don't like it?"  His eyes searched hers.   

"It's....... different."  She lifted her hand to touch his cheek, but hesitated, unsure of herself with this man who seemed like such a stranger to her.  He caught her wrist and completed the motion, pressing her hand to his cheek.  His skin was warm and smooth under her fingertips and she could smell his aftershave.  "Everything's different," she whispered.  "You even smell different."  Just when he was beginning to think he'd made a big mistake surprising her this way, something wild flared in her eyes.  "Kiss me," she pleaded, still stroking his jaw with one small hand.

He slid his hand up under the back of her jacket and settled it on the small of her back as he pulled her into his body and lowered his mouth to hers.  Sam's eyes fluttered shut at the feel of his mouth, wet and insistent against hers.  This was the Russell she knew, strong and steady and solid.  With a growl, he offered her his tongue, pushing his hips at her when she suckled it.  He tasted like toothpaste and tea and Russell.  The flavor was as familiar and reassuring as the intimate way he touched her.  Her body knew this man's touch.  All shyness gone, Samantha purred into his mouth as his fingers stroked the satiny skin of her back.   

His kiss was warm and playful.  Bottom lip.  Top lip.  His tongue licked into her mouth, teasing against hers.  He rubbed the hardening bulge of his erection against her flat belly and barely resisted the urge to slip his hands under her bottom and hoist her up against him when she moaned softly in her throat.  He chuckled into her hair and then blew out a hard breath when she dipped her head under his chin and licked his throat just once before nuzzling the underside of his jaw. 

She'd intended to tease him back by blowing a raspberry on his neck, but every last shred of reason scattered into the wind and she bit him softly instead, momentarily unable to restrain the hot spur of arousal burning wildly in her blood. 

Hoh....Fuck.  Her uninhibited response seemed to sear a wild path from his brain to his heart and then straight down to his cock... and he was suddenly kissing her again.  Hard.  This time it was intense and demanding.  Her toes curled.  His need for a cup of tea to burn away the morning's chill vanished.  He was suddenly, achingly warm.  And God did it feel good.             

Russell registered the sound of approaching footsteps before Samantha did and gentled the fierce kiss, pulling his hand from under her jacket as he stilled his hips.  It was one thing to be rumbled having a bit of an innocent pash that was all but concealed inside the generous cut of his coat.  It was quite another to be grinding into her while he had his hands on her ass and his tongue in her mouth.  He pulled back and rubbed the tip of his nose against hers affectionately, knowing Mark would soon be appearing around the corner of the porch.  "Everything apples now?"

"Mmmm, yes."  She gave him a soft, happy kiss.  "I just needed a reminder my 'Russ' was in there under all that sparkle and polish."  

He chuckled.  "I do clean up rather well, don't I?"  He turned his face in profile, lifted his chin and struck a ridiculously silly pose.

Sam poked him in the belly with a finger.  "You, sir, are a peacock."  

He tweaked her ponytail.  "No, love, I'm a 'Crowe.'  You of all people should know that."  Russell laughed at his own little joke.

Mark snorted.  "She had the right of it the first time around, mate.  You are a fucking peacock."  He grinned at Sam.  "G'day."  Mark checked his watch and looked back at Russell.  "Bird's in the air.  We're out of here in ten." 

Russell glanced again at his watch, but made no move to pull away from Samantha.  "Got it.  No worries."  He gave a Mark a nod as he disappeared back around the corner and then turned his attention back to the woman in his arms.

"Russ?"

"Hmm?"  He was back to nuzzling her neck and slipping his hands under her top once more.

"The bird's in the air?  A helicopter isn't going to land on your footy field or anything, is it?"

He chuckled against her throat.  "Fuck, no.  That'd scare the piss out of the cows, love."  He gave her neck another kiss and giggled cheekily.  He could be such a boy.  "It lands on the heliport, of course."  It was located at the other end of his property, as far as possible from the livestock. 

"The heliport?"  She echoed weakly.  "You have a heliport?"

He lifted his head, eyes glittering with humor.  "Sure.  Doesn't everyone?"  His smile broadened.  "We usually drive to Sydney, but down and back plus my all my appointments..... that'd eat up the better part of two days and I'd have had to give up our sit in the sauna tonight."  He shrugged casually.  "So I made a phone call and Bob's your uncle."  Russell was clearly enjoying her reaction.  "Sometimes it's bloody good to be me."

That bit of cheek seemed to snap Samantha out of her shock.  "There is not enough caffeine in the world to make this morning any less surreal."  She smiled up at him, eyes full of laughter, but was surprised to see he'd grown serious.

"It's not surreal, love.  It's my life," he said softly.  "And if I didn't already know I was going to spend the day having my bollocks grilled by the press, I'd have invited you to come with me." 

Samantha wrapped both her arms around his neck and rested her head on his chest.  "I'd have accepted.  I can't think of anything I'd like more than to spend the day with you."

"Yeah?"  He grinned.  "Well... keep your phone on just in case.  I might get homesick."  His funny giggle got lower, softer and alarmingly wicked.  "And if you're lucky I might even talk dirty."  He seemed to purr the words in a way that thrummed over her skin and made her shiver.

"Like this?"  Sam leaned closer and whispered something into his ear. 

"Christ!"  He swore and groaned, shaking away the picture her words had painted in his head.  He pulled away and checked his watch again before setting her from him and giving her a good looking at.  He reached his hand out and teasingly tugged at the zipper pull on her track suit.  "You know, Mark told me you got up every morning and went running.  I thought he was pulling my leg.  I know how you feel about mornings."  He snaked his fingers up under the hem of her jacket once more and she shivered when he stroked the smooth skin of her stomach.  Now that he'd been outside a while without his hands wrapped around a cup of hot tea, his fingers were cold.  He warmed them on her belly, giggling as she winced at the cold, but there was something exciting about being held firmly in his grasp even when she tried to wriggle away.  Russell smiled, enjoying the delicate feel of her slender body testing his formidable strength, but she soon settled when he stopped teasing and gently stroked her belly affectionately.  "Do you actually like running?"  The distaste in his voice was clearly evident.

Sam laughed.  "Ugh.  No!  I can't stand it.  It makes me feel like I'm going to be sick."

He shook his head in confusion.  "So why do it then?"  His fingers were warm now, but he still hadn't taken them off her stomach.  

Her eyes twinkled.  "I do it because I like eating.  I also like my bikini-"  

Russell grinned.  "I like your bikini too."  

Sam rolled her eyes at him.  "Anyway, those two things don't necessarily go together all that well without a morning run."

"Fair enough."  He gave her a little squeeze.  "Have a nice run and I'll be back in time to have a sit in the sauna with you tonight.  I'll even give you a good perve, just so you know I appreciate all the effort you put into making your bikini look good," he teased.  Actually, he'd sort of been hoping to convince her to rethink the whole bikini idea.  To his way of thinking, taking the sauna's gorgeous heat in the nude could be incredibly.... satisfying.

She'd given him some hard limits, and he respected that.  But he also wasn't above pushing the boundaries.... to say nothing of defying them outright, if they stood between him and something he wanted.  He was a self proclaimed romantic cunt.  But he was also a doggedly persistent bastard.  He wouldn't force her, but he was long past feeling badly about giving a woman the opportunity to say 'no'.  In fact, he was looking forward to it.  She was sensual and passionate.  And who knew?  Once she had a taste of what he was offering, he may well get that 'yes' after all.      

Russell checked his watch again.  "Nearly time..."  He bent his head so he could whisper in her ear.  "Open for me, love.  Give me something to keep me warm all the way to Sydney."

His hands were firm on her supple body and he held her tightly as he covered her mouth with his.  The kiss was slow and deep and wet.  He controlled it and she let him, wanting him to get whatever he needed from the kiss and then suddenly he was gone.  Sam opened her eyes and smiled.  He was standing by the front door when Mark opened it, bag in hand and ready to go.  Russell stuck his head inside, shouted a goodbye to his parents and followed Mark off the porch. 

Samantha could hear the gravel of the drive crunching under their feet as they made their way to the car.  He waved at her and she waved back, hanging over the porch railing a little.  "Hey, handsome?" she called out.

Russell turned around, walking backwards with a smug little grin.  "Yeah?"

"You might want to rethink the lipstick."  She'd left a slight smear to the left of his mouth.  "Clashes with your sweater, you know."

Mark snickered as he tossed the bag in the car and dropped his heavy bulk into the driver's seat.  

Sam burst into a fit of giggles as Russell spun, affecting a very flamboyant walk and lisped, "You mean this isn't THE color of the season?  What IS a girl to do?"  Wiping at his mouth he swore colorfully.  Impressively.  Inventively.  Sam laughed until her eyes watered and then Russ gave her cheeky wink and climbed in with a flourish and a wave.  Mark was still snickering.  Russell gave him the eye.  "Not a fucking word, mate."

"Yeah?  Then I guess I'll just let the press tell you you've more lippie on your chin, ya cunt."  Mark smiled as he honked the horn and waved at the house as they pulled out. 

"Fuck."  Russell flipped down the visor and shook his head at the image reflected back at him in the tiny vanity mirror.  The color was faint, but it was definitely there.  He wiped at his jaw with the back of his hand and rubbed his fingertips down his neck just to be sure, glancing over at Mark under his lashes, warning him not to say anything. 

Mark just shook his head and offered up a banal, "She seems to like you."  But then he grinned and added, "Though, who the fuck knows why...."  His tone had that teasing implication of 'not sure why they bother, mate.... you're a fucking pain in the arse'.      

"Cos she likes my big dick," he snapped back with a grin, crudely grabbing his groin.  So he had a tender romantic side?  He also had a rude side that he made absolutely no effort to curb among friends.  Besides, he was no different than most men, hiding his true feelings under crude retorts and disgustingly dirty bravado. 

Mark grunted.  Russell just shrugged, his attention already drawn away.  He was looking in the rearview mirror at Sam, who was now bent over the bushes in the front of the house looking for his lost teacup.  He felt a little bad for giving her such a start but it had turned out well enough.  He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, smiling inwardly at the lingering taste of her, and felt his heart glow warmly in his chest.  Russell closed his eyes and sighed, wishing he could spend the day stealing kisses from her instead of having to deal with the press.  Today was going to be exceedingly unpleasant. 

Mark looked over at Russell; a little surprised he hadn't said anything else about Samantha.  He usually nattered on about the women in his life so much so that it drove the rest of his mates crazy.  While he didn't usually divulge many intimate details, especially if he was seriously interested in the woman in question, he did like to talk about his relationships in general, be they bad, good or utterly nonexistent. 

They came to the end of the gravel drive and Mark took the turnoff to the heliport.  He looked over at Russell again.  He had an odd smile on his face and he was unusually still.  It was making him uneasy.  Normally, Russell was so juiced up by this point he was fiddling with damn near everything he could get his hands on.  It was a boyhood habit of his that he'd never really grown out of.  And the lack of his usual fidgeting was setting off little alarm bells in Mark's head.      

"What's the matter with you?"  Mark tossed out casually as they bounced along the rough road.  

Russell's eyes opened.  "Me?  Nothing.  I'm apples."  He paused a minute.  "Why?  Don't I pass inspection?"  His tone said: I shaved and everything.....what the fuck?

"I dunno..... you're all quiet.  Smiling like some fucking nancy.  Where's your game face?  Where's the fucking animal?  The press is going to bloody well rip your bollocks off and feed 'em to you if you walk in there looking like that."  He ignored the snort that comment garnered.    

"Christ.  Don't be shy, mate.  Go ahead and tell me what you really think."  Russell chuckled and then just shrugged.  "I reckon it's just that I'm happy.  For the first time in a long time, things are good."  Better than good.  Hopeful. 

Mark raked a hand through his hair and sighed.  He'd been working for Russ for years now, and they'd been friends longer than that.  He'd seen him through the good.  The bad.  Through crazy shit nobody would believe unless they'd lived it.  Through bar brawls and kidnapping threats and drunken orgies... to say nothing of his string of broken hearts.  "We've been mates a long fucking time and you've been chasing happiness for as many years as I can remember.  Like always, your timing is piss poor.... but you're a lucky bastard to have had this shot dropped in your lap.  Don't fuck it up.  And don't let anyone else fuck it up either."

Russell's eyebrows went up.  He often wore his heart on his sleeve and on occasion spoke candidly about his feelings.  He also found that he often surrounded himself with people who were not uncomfortable with honest emotions, but it was a rare thing to hear it from the mouth of his loyal bodyguard and trusted friend.  "Thanks, mate."

Mark nodded curtly.  "And if she's the real deal, brother, don't even think of letting this one go."  

Russell nodded, still a bit surprised by Mark's heartfelt words.  He didn't usually speak with such emotion.  Russ just clapped a hand hard on Mark's shoulder.  No words were needed.  They understood each other just fine.  The rest of the drive passed in silence.

The trees thinned out around them as the dusty vehicle navigated the bumpy terrain.  Mark grinned as they hit a particularly big rut.  "So, if you're sorted now...."  Russ gave him a look and chuckled, shaking his head in amusement.  "Give me a fucking break and cram all that romantic bullshit down deep and slam the fucking lid on it."  He stopped the car and turned it off.  "Great.  So, you're happy.  You're an actor... act, mate.  This day's gonna suck like a dead bitch from hell and if you don't come out swinging, they're going to rip you apart."  He checked his watch.  "You've got five."         

Russell climbed out of the car and lit a cigarette.  Mark was right.  This day was going to be horrifically grueling and he needed to get his shit together.  He took a brisk walk to the trees at the edge of the clearing and stared up at the sky for a long minute, gathering his thoughts and centering himself.  When he came back, his head was clear and his body crackled with leashed energy.  He was intent, focused and ready to take the world by the balls.      

Mark slammed the car door.  In the distance, the steady thrumming of helicopter was beginning to echo through the bush, growing ever louder.  A few more moments and they'd be able to see it over the treetops.  He gave Russell the once over.  He'd lost the soft look he'd had earlier--the one he'd had at the house with Sam.  The pussycat was gone, replaced by the lion.  He was all business.  There was fire in his eyes and a hard edge to his smile.  His game face was on.  He was ready to play, and play hard.  Thank God.  Mark slid on his sunglasses and grinned at the cocksure, no bullshit Russell who ate reporters for breakfast.  Fucking finally.  "Glad you could fucking make it."      

Russell crudely slung him the bird and grinned, all teeth and attitude.  The trees and brush began to sway wildly as the helicopter approached and the tail end swung around as it prepared to land.  Russell put on his shades and looked over at Mark as he took one last drag from his cigarette and crushed it out before flicking it away.  His smile got wider.  And more predatory. 

Mark knew that signal.  

Russell was about to unleash hell.