What happens in Tofino, stays in Tofino.

Scandal-plagued actress Simone Farrell thinks she's found the perfect fling: He's hot, he's a thousand miles away from her fishbowl existence in Hollywood, and the best part? He doesn't know who she is. Jason is the perfect escape from the losing end of a custody dispute, a career that's on life support, and an alcohol-blurred string of affairs.

Excerpt: He was precisely what she needed to satisfy her. If his kiss was any indication, Jason Connor was scorching hot in bed.

But if her past was any indication, her newfound friendship with Jason would end just as badly as every other relationship she'd ever had. There was no such thing as a harmless fling that involved Simone Farrell. She sighed and rubbed her forehead. Call and cancel. This is a mistake. A huge mistake.

No good could come of this. More distraction. Another heartache to give her a reason to dive into the bottle again. More ammunition for the paparazzi to tear her apart.

The paparazzi weren't here, though, she reminded herself. She hadn't seen a single one; the only camera she had seen in three days, besides some random, oblivious tourists' was Jason's.

She winced at the memory of what happened on the dock, when he tried to take her picture. Christ, he must think I'm an idiot. Who could imagine? A camera shy movie star. And how could she explain it to him? "Look, I work in front of a movie camera all day long, but cameras like that have damn near destroyed my life, so would you please put it away and take me to bed?"

This was definitely a bad idea.

She looked at his phone number again.

There was just one problem: she really liked him, and not just because of the magic he worked on her body. He talked to her like a human being, not a movie star. He wasn't trying to rub elbows with her. His face was nothing if not sincere and his mere presence put her at ease. It had been so long since she'd been with someone so genuine. Even after she freaked out about the camera, he'd still asked her to come over to his place. He'd still kissed her like he couldn't get enough of her.

She swallowed.

Maybe he genuinely liked her. Or maybe he was just a sleazeball looking for another notch in his bedpost. Her thoughts drifted to the tattoos sneaking out from beneath his taut shirt, the way his fingers nimbly manipulated the camera lens, the ripple up his arm, the casual way he touched his tongue to his lips when he was thinking. His soft, tantalizing touch. The way his kiss sent tremors up and down her spine.

After what he did to her on the pier, she'd carve the notch in his bedpost herself if it meant getting to see what else his fingers could do, and what his tongue would feel like-

"Simone!" She scolded herself. Her face must have been cherry red, judging by the way it burned just then. But that wasn't the only place feeling some heat. She couldn't help but wonder what his tattoos looked like, how their edges would feel against her tongue.

No men! Anne-Marie's voice echoed in her head.

But the more she thought about Jason, about the way his mouth tasted and his fingertips brushed her skin, Simone realized that "no men" was an entirely different proposition than "don't fuck Jason Connor"

"If you saw him, you'd understand, Anne-Marie," she said aloud. She pushed herself out of the chair and snatched a halfway decent blouse and pair of jeans off the bed. Whatever happened . . . happened. She wouldn't let it consume her. She could control herself, just have some fun, and go back to L.A.

"What happens in Tofino," she said, pulling her T-shirt over her head, " stays in Tofino."