Tasha stared blankly out the darkened car windows as she tried to register where she was. She was tired to the bone, pulling in double duty at her ad agency day job and at the lounge at night for the last week as well as prepping for the Showcase. Right now, all she was looking forward to is getting to the hotel and collapsing until tomorrow.

Unfortunately, they were stuck in Friday evening traffic on the Pacific Coast Highway so her goose-down-feather dreams were going to have to wait. She sighed and leaned back on her seat.

Damon, an imposing, almost scary giant of a man, looked at her from the driver’s side and raised an eyebrow. He had greeted her at the airport with a sign that only read “Tasha Callaghan” and looked like he was about to fall asleep standing there. After she introduced herself, he looked at her, grunted twice and turned to walk toward the car, leaving her to run after him with two heavy pieces of luggage.

He had gestured to the front seat as he dumped her bags into the trunk of the SUV without effort at all. She wondered if he was mute or just generally not very chatty as she got into the car.

The silence started to become unbearable and after prodding and prying, she not only managed to get his name out of him but the fact that he was one of the three security guys that have been with Nick since he was fourteen.

After all that, the car was shot back into silence. Damon was a good driver, but not much of a talker.

“We’ll be there soon,” Damon grumbled, in response to her sigh.

She looked over to Damon with a smile. “Oh hallelujah, Big D. Talk to me. Please.”

He gave her another eyebrow raise.

“Where are we going? Nick didn’t tell me what hotel he booked me in. How far are we to Malibu? Oh my, is that the ocean? And why is Los Angeles so….bright?” She closed all her questions with a smile and then added demurely, “Your turn.”

She didn’t know Damon very well but she could SWEAR he was trying his hardest not to laugh.

“We’re going to the Compound. You’ll be staying at the Artist House with the other performers joining the Showcase tomorrow.”

Compound? Artist house?

“And Los Angeles is not bright. It only seems bright because you’re from Baltimore.”

Tasha feigned offense. “For your information, Baltimore is a thriving metropolis with...” The sound of a phone ringing interrupted her good-natured rant. Looking down at the blinking screen on the radio display, Damon pressed a button.

“You’re on speaker, Nick.” Damon half-growled. This man really needed to enunciate.

“Hey D. Tasha, you there?” Nick’s  voice sounded like he had just woken up. Oh the visual his voice planted in her mind made her heart palpitate.

Tasha thanked the gods for darkened interiors so Damon didn’t see her blush. “Right here, Nick.”

“Welcome to LA. How was your flight?”

“Bumpy but otherwise good. Your air here is different.”

Nick’s deep laughter made her smile. “I hope that’s a good thing. Fresh sea air will clean up the damage that Baltimore air’s done to your body in minutes, I promise.”

“Are you hatin’ on Baltimore too, because you know it’s...”

Damon cut her off, “A thriving metropolis, we know.”

Nick laughed some more. “Arguing about Baltimore already, are we?”

“Oh, I’ll change your opinion on Baltimore yet, Damon. I have a whole weekend,” Tasha pronounced, giving Damon a serious look.

Of course, Damon grunted.

“Where are you guys?”

“Just turning into Cliffside from PCH.” Damon answered as he turned into a smaller stretch of road.

“Oh good, just in time for dinner. D, I just got a call from Leigh saying the Artist House is full tonight. Bring Tasha up to the house, she can stay in the Marilyn room.”

Damon grunted his agreement.

“And Tasha, I’ll see you in a few minutes.” With that he hung up.

In less than a minute, Damon turned into a driveway that could easily have been missed, it was so hidden. As the gates opened, the road seemed to stretch for miles uphill. Damon took to the gas and floored it, reaching the summit in seconds.

It was at that point Tasha’s eyes widened, spotting what seemed to be the most sprawling set of buildings. And lights. So many lights.

Tasha perked at the sight of abundant trees, a massive pool and…was that a waterslide coming from inside one of the buildings?

“Oh jeebus.” She didn’t realize how fast she got out of the car to look at the resplendent structures in front of her. She was staying HERE this weekend?

Tasha took in all the details with suspended breath. Amidst the lush greenery and hillside cottages on one side and a fantastic view of the Pacific Ocean in the other, she spotted four buildings made mostly of glass and clean modern lines. The driveway was packed with cars and event trucks, presumably preparing for tomorrow night’s party. A small sign to her right pointed to the direction of where the Studio was (to her left), the Artist House (to her right), the Sports Complex (They had a sports complex?!), the main building (she assumed it was the shiny and bright two floor structure in front of her)  and the beach.

She must have been staring for a while because the next thing she saw was Damon carrying her bags straight to the side of the main building…a good half a mile away, it seemed.

She was nearly out of breath by the time she caught up with him.

“Damon, for a big guy, you sure move fast,” Tasha heaved. “Where the heck are we?”

She turned as they walked up to a secluded two floor  house tucked right behind the main building. Compared to the modern look of the rest of the property, this one seemed lived in, a classic beach house with a wrap-around balcony and steps that presumably led to the beach. It was signature California architecture, with oak and glass and beautifully crafted wooden patio furniture.

Damon walked through the heavy doors and dropped her bags in the foyer, with Tasha hot on his heels.

The entryway took Tasha’s breath away. High ceilings, curving steps to the second floor and a warm eclectic decor that showed taste that ranged from exotic to silly. Spying the living room a few feet away, she caught her breath at the wall to wall view of the ocean. It was breathtaking.

“We’re not in Oz anymore, Damon,” she breathed.

Before Damon could answer, something small (and blue?) whipped past her and made her lose her balance.

She hadn’t even registered a scream of surprise when she landed butt-first onto the hardwood flooring. Disoriented as she was, she heard shouting from behind her and Damon breaking out to a dead run after the small blue thing.

“Holy…Tasha, are you alright?” The voice was unmistakably Nick’s. He came from behind her and gently held her arms to assist her off the floor.

“I’m okay, just…” she turned and saw his concerned blue eyes. “I uh. Hi.” She so needed to figure out how to talk to Nick without sounding like an idiot.

He smiled. “You’re alright?”

She nodded. “I think so. What was that?” she asked, hearing Damon’s shouting in the distance.

He laughed. “That speed demon was my son. He discovered running about a year ago. He’s now two and he hasn’t stopped since.” He ran his hand through his already tousled hair. “And we just woke up from a nap, so he’s extra energized.” He shook his head and heard Damon shout “Got him!” He relaxed a bit more.

“So how are you liking California so far?” he asked, noticing belatedly that her perplexed look hadn’t changed. “Tasha?”

She was distracted by his powerful presence. Even in jeans and a t-shirt, he looked larger than life. She looked at him for a few more seconds before asking, “Did you say son? You have a two year old boy?”

“Yes, he just turned two about three months ago.” He smiled as he took her purse and coat from her hands. “His name is Matthew...Matty. I’ll introduce you to him later, when he, you know, stops channelling Speedy Gonzales.”

As soon as Nick left the lounge a week ago, she researched him and the label with a tenacity and thoroughness that was her nature. Nothing in those pages said anything about a son. And so young too. “I...okay, so I didn’t know you had a son.”

He shook his head and laughed. “Tsk tsk. We both know the real dirt about me isn’t on the Internet.” His grin widened as he saw her blush. “I’ve been flying so low under the radar these last few years, I’m not surprised TMZ’s missed this.”

“But single fatherhood, that’s big,” she contended.

Nick shook his head as he picked up her two suitcases from the floor as Damon did earlier, without any effort at all. “It’s not really. Not when you have all the help I have.” He looked around then smiled at her brightly, clearly wanting to change the subject. “How about I show you to your room? I’m just getting started on dinner so you have time to freshen up.”

And he cooks too. She promptly pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. The man of her teenage fantasies not only charmed her effortlessly in Baltimore but now admitted to being a single father and being a cook. Good lord, did she get teleported into a romance novel? Because really, this was ridiculous.

They went up a staircase and Tasha started to sweat at the image her eyes followed. The jeans he was wearing was doing him all sorts of favors. And her, really. If she had the guts, she would raise her hand and---

 What the hell was wrong with her? He was her host, for crying out loud! It didn't matter that he was Nick Carter, the object of all heartbreaking delusional affections of her youth. He was still all business. So should she.

But dammit if his ass didn't make concentration difficult.

“This isn’t funny,” she whispered to the ceiling, to anyone punking her, if she was being honest.

Nick stopped abruptly as he got to the landing and turned. “I’m sorry?”

Tasha smiled quickly, “Oh nothing. Just talking to myself.” She then noticed the subtle opulence of the second floor hallway they were walking through. Fabric wallpaper lined the corridor so she cautiously touched the subtle print. “This is gorgeous, Nick. This whole place is gorgeous. This is your home?”

He nodded. “It is. I bought the whole property about eight years ago, when the label was just starting up. The guy who owned it was a movie producer back in the day, so I kept it pretty much how he left it, doing small renovations here and there. I just added the main building, the studio and the Artist House five years ago and since then, it’s become The Compound.  The label rents the space from me when they need it.” He pointed to the other side of the house, where a low partition, presumably a childproof gate, kept it separate from the rest of the floor. “Matty and I stay on that side of the floor so I apologize now if he wakes you up with his crying in the middle of the night. He’s been good the last six months but sometimes he has nightmares and seriously, that boy has major pipes.”

He stopped in front of the last room at the end of the hall. "I think you’ll like the Marilyn room," Nick told her with a tinge of pride in his voice as he opened the door.

"The Marilyn room?" she couldn't resist asking, quickly following behind his long strides. Then she didn’t really need an answer because her mouth gaped open as she stepped through the threshold.

The room was just about the size of the Carlton lounge and then some. Definitely five times bigger than her own room and with a seemingly endless view of the ocean. The bed…the four poster bed was the stuff dreams were made of. King sized and draped with billowy light green and white fabric, it complimented the light green décor yet had enough character that it stood out as almost otherworldly.  A sitting area and a bar were situated just by the French doors that seemed to house a generously sized balcony.

And then she spotted the reason it was called the Marilyn room. One whole wall was adorned with enormous black and white photo of her, on the beach, wallpapered unabashedly from floor to ceiling.

It was beautiful.

She heard Nick place her bags right beside…oh my. Were those walk in closets? “I’ve been told Marilyn Monroe stayed in this very room while she was on break from filming ‘Some Like It Hot’.”

She turned to him abruptly but stopped to catch her breath. She didn’t realize he had whispered that little tidbit to her. “Really?” she said breathlessly, his face mere inches from hers.

He grinned. “It was on the listing.” He casually put an arm around her shoulders and walked her to the massive glass floor to ceiling windows. Pointing to French doors that led to the balcony, he opened them with flourish. “And this, my beauty, is all yours.” He took her hand and pulled her out so she could see the view. “You can’t see much of the view in the dark but I wanted to show you that you get your own steps to the beach if you want, so you don’t have to go through first floor balcony.” Pointing to a wooden structure at the base of the steps four floors down, he added, “Shower’s down there as well as towels and sunscreen. Did you bring your suit?”

Tasha couldn’t keep up. She was still stuck on the fact that he was holding her hand. “Suit?”

“Swimsuit? If not we have tons of options for you down there too. Take your pick.”

“Oh I don’t...I don’t swim, really. I never learned how.”

He crossed his arms and regarded her with interest. “Oh, well then, we’re going to have to teach you. Maybe before you go back to Baltimore, I can give you a few pointers. Make sure you pick one of the really SKIMPY  bikinis.” At that point his eyebrows gave her a playfully lecherous wiggle.

Why did she keep blushing around him? “Oh shut up, I’m not wearing a bikini around you. The world isn’t ready for that side of me yet.”

He laughed. “You girls and your self-consciousness. You’re beautiful in whatever you wear. Or don’t wear.” At that, he gave her a wink.

She started laughing. “You know what, this pervy side of you is pretty hilarious.”

His face showed mock surprise. “But I practiced that line all day.”

And charming. His pervy side was VERY charming.

“So, dinner? Do you need help? I’m pretty handy in the kitchen,” she said, deftly trying to get the attention away from her perennially flushed face.

He shook his head. “No, I got it. The grill’s on and I have some fish waiting. We’re in the back patio next to the kitchen.” He smiled and said, “Okay, don’t freak out but I’m going in for a hug.”

He enveloped her in a tight (and very much platonic) embrace, making her feel comfortable all at once. “It’s great having you here, Tasha, really.” He turned and started walking out the door. “Dinner’s in half an hour. Don’t worry about changing, we’re very casual around here.” With a sly smile, he closed the door behind him.

She collapsed on the settee behind her. Good lord, she was going to be seeing that smile all weekend. How was she going to survive?

**********

JC was curiously watching Nick as he closed the door to the Marilyn room behind him, and bit into an apple.

“Was that Tasha?” he asked as he walked down the hall next to Nick.

He nodded. “Fresh from Baltimore.”

“She seemed nervous.”

“Really? I thought she was just jetlagged. It was a long trip.”

Nick made his way down the stairs to the kitchen, JC following close behind.

“Nah it was more nervous. Why is she nervous around you?”

Nick turned to his brother-in-law curiously as he reached the fridge. “She isn’t. It’s just a lot to take in, this place.” He opened the fridge door and ducked to pull out a couple of slabs of marinated sea bass.

“I think she’s nervous because she wants your bod. Are you two sleeping together?”

Surprised, Nick looked up from the chiller and hit his head against the freezer door. “Goddammit, C. What the hell.”

JC started laughing. “Relax, Carter. I was just teasing.” He sat down across from him on the marble countertop. “You do need to loosen up, bro. You’re starting to look your age, and that’s no good. I’m three years older than you and I still look like I’m in my twenties.”

Nick laughed out loud. “Who’s been feeding you those lines, C? You look so jetlagged, I swear no amount of botox is going to cure those eyebags.”

JC tossed the apple core to Nick’s head. “Jackass. I meant you need to start getting laid again, man.”

Nick ducked just in time. “Again with the sex, dude. I’m fine. You go work on your own sex life. I’m busy.” He walked out of the kitchen to the hot grill waiting for him on the patio.

“You’re not busy, you’re avoiding it.” JC grabbed a beer from the fridge and ran after Nick. “Having a life outside the Compound IS allowed, Nick.”

“Dude, seriously, you need to stop talking. Don’t piss me off.” Nick said as he placed the fish on the grill as well as some cut vegetables.

JC looked at him for a while, noticed the slump of his shoulders and shook his head. “Nick, it’s been two years. You need to move on.”

Nick pretended not to hear him.

“It doesn’t even have to be a relationship. Have a crazy affair, a one night stand. Heck, even a quickie in the broom closet next to the kitchen. Those closets are surprisingly roomy.”

Nick’s raised eyebrow belied the fact that he was trying not to listen.

JC sighed. “Okay, sorry, man. But I worry about you. My parents worry about you. The Boys worry about you.”

“I’m fine. I’m trying to be a good dad. And producing isn’t a cake walk you know.” He closed the grill and looked at JC. “I appreciate your concern, I really do, but I’m too busy to have crazy monkey sex in broom closets. Seriously. But if I do, you’ll be first to know.”

JC laughed. “Good lord, did I just sound like my father just then?” Opening another bottle of beer, he handed it off to Nick. “Let’s just goddamn drink, man. This maudlin talk is making me crazy.”

They clinked bottles and sat down, enjoying the silence, at least until Matty found them.