Written For You

By Robin Bielman

Cam Radcliffe is on a deadline to write his next blockbuster action film, but all he can think about lately is writing romance. And to make matters even more complicated, he’s found the perfect inspiration: his best friend…

Reese Resnick has been best friends with Cam for years. But when her new job means working with him, the line between “friends” and “definitely more than friends” suddenly gets a lot more confusing. And why are there suddenly all these sexy sparks between her and her bestie?

Now Cam and Reese are enjoying an all-new romantic adventure that’s more sizzling than anything Cam could have created. But have they stumbled into the perfect romantic comedy… or will Reese’s biggest secret mean The End?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Aug 23, 2021
• ISBN: 9781649372031

Robin Bielman

Robin Bielman is the USA Today bestselling author of over twenty novels. When not attached to her laptop, she loves to read, go to the beach, frequent coffee shops (and by frequent she means daily but she's trying to break the habit), and spend time with her family and friends. Her fondness for swoon-worthy heroes who flirt and stumble upon the girl they can’t live without jumpstarts most of her story ideas. She writes with a steady stream of caffeine nearby (see above) and the best dog on the planet, Harry, by her side. She also dreams of traveling to faraway places and loves to connect with readers.

Book preview

At Entangled, we want our readers to be well-informed. If you would like to know if this book contains any elements that might be of concern for you, please check the book’s webpage for details.

https://entangledpublishing.com/books/written-for-you

For Charlene Sands, your friendship is one of the best things to ever happen to me. Thank you. I love you lots.

Chapter One

A deadline loomed over Cameron Radcliffe’s head and the one thing he thought he could count on had just been yanked away. By the two most important women in his life, no less.

Reese is in the guesthouse? he asked his mom, a little cranky and a lot surprised Reese had arrived this soon. He’d spent the last eight hours on the road, many of those hours spent driving at a snail’s pace due to traffic on the two-lane stretches of highway from Los Angeles to Rustic Creek, and now fatigue seeped into every muscle in his body.

Julia Radcliffe, mom extraordinaire and affectionately known around town as Pixie, returned his surprised look. I assumed you knew. Besides, it will be nice having you under the same roof for a change. She stood behind the kitchen counter and poured him a glass of iced coffee. She had his favorite at the ready every time he visited. If I’d known you were under a deadline, I would have had Reese stay upstairs instead. But she’s got a lot of work to do, too, and she’s still getting over a broken heart. I thought some space to herself would be nice.

All of that was true, but Reese knew the pressure he was under, too. Then a thought struck him. You set her up there so you could escape and have girl time with her, didn’t you?

I might be planning a sleepover or two with my goddaughter. A head tilt and fond smile accompanied her statement. I’ve missed her. Texts and FaceTime aren’t enough.

Hard to be upset about that. His mom and Reese’s mom were best friends, had been since they were kids, and Pixie loved spending time with Reese as much as he did. Their families might not be related by blood, but they were family. And when Reese was around, Pixie loved doting on her, especially given she was the only girl in the family.

Still. He only had twenty-six days. Twenty-six days to turn in another action-packed screenplay or… He didn’t want to think about or. The fact that he came home every year for the month of July, and that this year marked the 100th anniversary of the town his great-grandfather had founded, were the reasons he hadn’t backed out. He’d tried. Picked up his phone half a dozen times then put it down. Founder’s Day was a big deal every year and Cam had no one to blame for his lack of written pages but himself. Thinking he had the guesthouse to lock himself in had been his saving grace.

Reese being there complicated things, the unwelcome rush of heat to his chest confirming what he’d tried to ignore. Something had changed for him over the last few months, and she was completely oblivious to it. A good thing, considering their friendship—not to mention their families—meant more than any misguided daydream of seeing her naked.

Pixie passed him the glass of iced coffee. She seemed out of sorts when she got here. I think working a new job and then having that jerk break up with her is a lot. She’s my girl, and I want her to enjoy her stay. Your brothers rarely use the library, so mark that as your territory.

His stomach twisted knowing Reese might still be heartbroken. He hated seeing her sad, but she was better off without the guy. And he hoped the work thing lasted. Reese normally flitted from job to job. Boredom set in quickly and more times than he could count, she moved to something new. She gave her two-week notice with such a sunny disposition, though, that there were never any hard feelings with her employers. When a well-respected agent at the Beverly Hills agency Cam was with needed a new assistant, he’d suggested that Reese interview and she’d landed the job. She loved movies as much as he did, and he hoped she might finally stick with something for longer than usual. Today’s date floated through his mind. She’d been at Creative Talent Collaboration for about three months now, meaning her internal expiration date was about to surface.

He drank down the cold java his mom handed him. The library was a decent alternative as long as his brothers left him alone. They both here?

Upstairs. She smiled at him. Nothing made her happier than having her three boys home.

Dad?

In his office.

Cam slung his duffel bag over his shoulder as his mom came around the counter. She wrapped him in another bear hug, the top of her head not even close to reaching his chin. I’m so glad you’re here.

Me too. He walked away, then remembering what he forgot to say, turned around to add, Happy Family Day.

Happy Family Day, she echoed around a tender smile. Best twenty-four years of mine and your dad’s lives.

Thank you. Two words not nearly powerful enough to express his gratitude and love, but Pixie knew that. After two dozen years, she knew how much he and his brothers never let a day go by without appreciation for what Pixie and Paul Radcliffe had done. Adopting three boys—best friends who had lost their parents in one horrific accident that destroyed all three families—had been no easy task. Pixie, a good friend of Cam’s biological mom and an acquaintance of Nash and Gael’s biological moms, had taken one look at the three orphaned seven-year-olds and known she had to keep them together. Unable to have children of her own, she’d loved on them from the second she took them in and created a new family. It had taken him time beyond their adoption before he called Pixie and Paul Mom and Dad, and he’d never forget the look on Pixie’s face when he finally did.

He took the curved staircase leading upstairs two steps at a time. Once at the top, he glanced right, toward his dad’s office and parents’ bedroom. The closed office door signaled his dad probably didn’t want to be disturbed, so Cam headed down the longer hallway to the left.

Years ago, his parents had turned his and his brothers’ bedrooms into guestrooms, creating a space comfortable for an adult. This will always be your home, Pixie liked to say. A sentiment he never tired of hearing or took for granted. He shook the thought aside at the sound of Nash’s voice. You’re not getting tired, are you?

I can go all day. Gael’s breathless din indicated otherwise.

That’s not what she said, Nash fired back.

A smile tugged at Cam’s lips as he reached the doorway of Nash’s room and watched his brothers’ pushup contest. The fact Gael thought he could beat Nash proved how competitive and bullish the guy was. Your recycled comebacks need some work, Gael said.

Keeping it real, Nash said. Then, to prove how real his strength was, he did a few one-armed pushups.

You suck, Gael stated before collapsing onto the Berber carpet.

Gael, tall and lanky, was a mechanic with a talent for renovating classic cars. Nash, big and strong, dominated a football field as one of the best quarterbacks in the NFL. Ergo, Nash didn’t lose any physical contests.

I don’t know why you think you can beat me. Nash popped to his feet with ease, then extended a hand to help Gael up.

Gael swatted Nash’s arm out of the way and stood on his own.

My thoughts exactly, Cam said, drawing his brothers’ attention.

Grins broke out on both their faces. Cam’s, too, as he stepped into the room. They hugged it out, together for the first time in months.

It’s good to see you, man, Nash said. Gael nodded in agreement.

You guys, too. Better than good. Best friends since they were three years old and brothers since they were seven, he hadn’t realized until this moment how much he’d missed them. Texts and occasional phone calls kept them connected, but nothing beat face-to-face time.

Is that my lucky shirt? Gael asked.

Cam looked down at his vintage Earth, Wind & Fire T-shirt—his being a relative term considering he’d borrowed it without asking.

I’ve looked everywhere for it, Gael added.

Here was the thing about this particular shirt: Gael bought it when the three of them went to an Earth, Wind & Fire concert in high school. Every time he wore it, something great happened… He won the Congressional Art Competition, landed the girlfriend he’d been crushing on, sold his first restored car for a decent amount of money. The list went on. So when Cam or Nash needed some good fortune, they snagged the shirt. It didn’t fit Nash anymore (a point of annoying pride for the QB), so it fell to Cam to steal some lucky mojo, and he needed it this month more than ever.

It landed in my bag last time I was here, Cam said.

Both men narrowed their eyes at Cam. You having trouble writing? Gael asked, always the first to dive right into the crux of the matter.

If you need hero inspiration, I’m your man, Nash said, puffing out his chest.

Cam hated the idea of admitting aloud that yeah, he’d struggled the past several months. Coming off the high of being the screenwriter of the biggest blockbuster in the past two years, he’d taken his five minutes of fame to celebrate his success. Dinner parties, lunches at the Ivy with bigwigs, actresses on his arm. Then he’d crashed and burned in spectacular fashion when he’d sat down to write the sequel, his confidence and capability suddenly plummeting.

Hello writers block. For the first time in his career, he feared people would see his success as a fluke. Compare the next film to the first, and when did a sequel ever garner as much positive attention as the original? He’d worked hard to play in the big leagues. Put in his time and pushed himself until he’d given 110 percent. He’d earned industry recognition fair and square, but now he wanted to write something different. Something that had been percolating for a while and had recently taken root in his mind and wouldn’t leave him alone. But in Hollywood, success came down to one thing: money. His agent—and the studio—wanted more car chases, more explosions, more action, and that’s what he’d agreed to.

He glanced back down at his shirt. He’d worn it a ridiculous number of times over the years and believed in its magical power. And now he was going to wear it every day he was here.

I’ve got zero words so far, he admitted. A confession he’d only tell them—and Reese. When Leo had called to ask for progress notes, he’d lied to his agent and said, It’s coming along great, and then felt like crap for lying. Desperate times apparently called for him to make stuff up. Pun intended.

Don’t worry about it, they’ll come to you, Gael said.

Easy for him to say. He’d never struggled with his work.

A good sweat may be just what you need, Nash said. Work out with me in the morning. It’ll free your mind. He gave Cam’s biceps a squeeze. Besides, you’re looking a little soft.

Shut up. Cam had plenty of body muscle; it was his mental muscles that needed help. There was so much pressure to make this next screenplay exactly to spec and bigger and better, he couldn’t get out of his own head. Writing had never been this hard before and he hated it.

You could try drinking, Gael joked. Who was it that drank while he wrote? Faulkner?

Among others, yeah. Cam ran a hand across the back of his neck. But I need a clear head when I write.

Nash crossed his arms over his chest. What you need is sex. When was the last time you had some action?

Too long. Or maybe not long enough, considering the last woman he’d dated turned out to be a selfish liar. That’s the last thing I need.

Gael and Nash’s eyes widened in disbelief. Is there something wrong with you? Nash asked, like sex was as important as breathing.

"No. I just meant women are a distraction I don’t need right now." Especially given his trust in the fairer sex was shot. The liar he’d dated? She promised to keep his story ideas to herself then turned around and sold his limited series proposal to Netflix for six-figures. The woman before that? She had a boyfriend back in Nashville she’d neglected to tell him about.

He pictured Reese, laughing across the table from him at their favorite sushi place last week. She’d proven to be the only woman he could trust.

You at least jerking off regularly? It relieves stress and boosts immunity, you know. Nash raised his eyebrows at Cam. His brother loved to put his biology degree to good use whenever possible.

So you’ve said. Reese flashed through his mind. He had jerked off the other day, imagining her in nothing but… He blinked and shook his head to get rid of the sexy image. I’ll catch you guys a little later. Right now, he needed to stretch his legs. Breathe in some fresh air. Swim a few laps in the pool before they all sat down for dinner.

He dropped his bag in his room, changed out of his jeans and into swim trunks, and then slipped into the backyard. It was still warm out even though the sun had maybe thirty minutes of shine left, the lights on the property flickering on as evening shade took over. The house stood on several acres—acreage he and his brothers had run wild around as kids. At the far end of the property ran the Miwok Creek. Closer to home, green grass covered a good portion of the land. The cool blades felt good between his toes as he made his way toward the pool. To his left, a cobblestone walkway led to a basketball and tennis court. To his right, the cobblestones led to the guesthouse, out of sight from his current position.

The pool came into view, along with the backside of a woman standing near the edge. She wore a slip of a dress over her toned body. Her auburn hair fell in loose waves to the middle of her back. She appeared to be staring at the water with her arms wrapped around herself.

Beautiful.

Alluring.

His breath caught before he reminded himself Reese was one of his best friends and he’d never do anything to mess that up. His brothers would kick his ass right now if they knew the thoughts running through his head.

He didn’t exactly sneak up behind her—okay, he did—and so when she suddenly turned in surprise and grabbed the front of his T-shirt to keep from losing her balance, he should have been prepared to steady her. Instead, she shrieked in alarm, tugged hard enough on the thin cotton material of his shirt to rip it, and the two of them tumbled into the pool with a splash.

Not his finest moment. Not by a long shot. At least the water was warm.

They surfaced at the same time, his first thought to help her get a hand on the side of the pool since they’d fallen into the deep end. He also readied himself for her wrath, an apology all set on his tongue.

Instead, she gripped the edge of the tile with one hand, swept the hair off her face with the other, and cracked up.

She had a nice laugh.

The kind that had him forgetting apologies and enjoying the moment with her.

"Cam! she finally said. What the heck was that?"

For a moment, he was completely distracted by her full lips, almond shaped eyes, flawless skin.

Surprise, he offered, hoping he sounded contrite.

She gave him a playful splash. "Duh. And I guess I surprised you, too."

Yeah, thanks a lot for driving with me, he teased. I didn’t think you were coming up until Founder’s Day weekend.

Shay has me reading a gazillion scripts and at the last minute suggested I take time out of the office to do it so I’m not distracted.

A gazillion, huh?

She rolled her eyes. You know what I mean. A ton. So here I am! You know you’re happy to see me.

He edged closer, an involuntary reaction he didn’t try to fight. Here you are. He had a feeling there was more to the story, but he didn’t press. He was tired. Hungry. And truth be told, more than happy to see her, even if she’d stolen the guesthouse from him.

She kicked away and he followed her to the shallow end of the pool. They kept eyes on each other the entire way, like two people caught in a friendly battle of wills. She broke the connection first.

Standing so the water reached his waist, he easily pulled off his shirt considering the neck had been torn down the middle.

Oh no. Not your lucky shirt. Keeping only her head above water, she watched him toss the shirt onto the ground, where it landed with a splat. I’m so sorry, she said to his chest before raising her eyes back to his. I’ll buy you a new one.

You can’t buy a new lucky shirt, he said lightly, even though he was pretty bummed about it.

Well, it’s not really my fault, Mr. Sneaker Upper. You startled me, and I had to grab something. Your shirt was it.

She had him there. It’s okay.

I feel terrible.

Don’t.

It’s been in your family for like fifteen years.

He shrugged a shoulder at the same time something sparkled in her blue-gray eyes. I know! I’ll be your good luck charm, she said.

He raised his eyebrows.

You’ll see. I’ll help you finish your screenplay before your deadline.

Thanks, but that’s not necessary.

I think it is.

It isn’t. He worked best locked away in a room by himself. More importantly, Reese was a distraction he couldn’t afford, for more than one reason as of late. He thought back to the moment these new feelings for her had taken hold. She was talking to Pixie after her breakup. Messy hair, stain on her T-shirt, sitting on his couch with her legs crisscrossed, one wing of the butterfly tattoo on the top of her foot peeking out. She’d looked up at him after putting her phone down and said, I love your mom. That should have reminded him he shouldn’t—couldn’t—do anything to upset their relationship, but instead he’d latched onto the fact that she was single again and had sworn off men until she was thirty. Hearing the conviction in her voice and knowing her as well as he did, he’d thought, Bet I could change your mind.

We really need to work on your excessively orderly way of doing things. Her easygoing voice brought him back to the present.

If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

She opened her mouth to take in some chlorinated water then made fish lips to squirt it out at him. Sorry, Charlie, but aren’t you a little broken lately?

At his narrowed eyes she added, I’m just saying changing things up might help with the writing.

He dropped down to her level with his shoulders barely above the water and reached for her ankle to tug the Queen of Change under. Her arms flailed as her pretty face disappeared beneath the surface. He let go and two seconds later she popped back up, standing and sputtering.

You are in big trouble, mister.

He definitely was, but not because he feared retaliation. The sheer material of her dress clung to her breasts. He’d never seen her quite like this before and his dick stirred.

She didn’t have a modest bone in her nubile body, which completely wrecked him in this moment. She stood above him, hands on her hips.

Hello! Eyes up here. It’s like you’ve never seen boobs before, she said so nonchalantly that any embarrassment on his part quickly fled. Not the mental picture he’d taken of her, though. He’d keep that forever.

He forced his eyes up. Not yours.

She splashed him. Whatever. Pixie told me I had free rein of the property. I thought that came with a guarantee of my safety. Her pillowy lips twitched in amusement.

Oh, I’m harmless. Mostly. He couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from lifting even if he tried. Reese drew people to her like a birthday cake with candles drew wishes, so he cut himself some slack. Anyone attracted to a smart, fun, carefree person would find her interesting.

Well, you better watch your back, she