Two weeks. She'd promised him two weeks and he should have given them to her. He couldn't. The need to see her, to hold her, to make love to her, had been too strong and had taken him halfway across the world. Thankfully Australian grocery stores carried many of the same ingredients as American stores, and the chocolate cookies in his bag would go a long way toward soothing her.

A skinny, awkward-looking young man ran up to the trailer door. Ignoring Remy, the kid chatted into a cell phone, talking about where to find organic bon bons and kona coffee for some diva who was throwing a fit on set. The lackey paused long enough to open the trailer door before rushing away.

Remy stepped inside the trailer, wondering if the kid had been talking about his Sylvie. He shook his head and pulled the door closed behind him. His Sylvie wouldn't act like that. Besides, he'd never once seen her drink coffee. And if she liked bon bons he'd have his grandma make her good chocolate cream mini pies, and Sylvie wouldn't want for candy ever again. He grinned and set down his bag.

It took only a moment for him to arrange the no-bake cocoa cookies on a plastic tray and strip off his clothes. The trailer held a small sitting area, a bedroom visible through an open door, and a little kitchenette. Certainly not the palatial digs he expected a star like her to have. Naked, he strode into the bedroom, pulled back the sheets and sat there with the plate of cookies balanced in his lap.

His mother's Gator Shit Cookies. Remy grinned, thinking of all the Sunday afternoons spent in the family kitchen stirring the recipe, then dropping the batter in spoonfuls onto waxed paper to cool. The liquid batter splattered when it dropped from the spoon, looking completely inedible, but tasting oh, so good. Unable to resist, he picked up a cookie and nibbled on it.

The trailer door opened.

Remy held his breath. He listened, the footfalls sounding soft enough to be Sylvie. The door closed. Only one person appeared to have entered. Probably her, but she might have an assistant or something.

A soft sigh filtered through the open door.

Remy relaxed against the bed. Yeah, it was his Sylvie. His cock hardened thinking about her coming back here and finding him naked. He wondered if she'd have to choose which she'd eat first: the cookies or him.

A cell phone rang.

"Damn it. I'm not talking to you." Sylvie's tired-sounding voice held a rough edge. She must have silenced the phone because it went dead. "If we do three more takes I can get out of here and go back to Remy."

He opened his mouth, intending to say something, when she stepped into the doorway. Dirt smudged her face. Her hair had come loose from its tight updo, and her golden bikini showed off her toned and sweaty body. Her nipples poked against the shimmering fabric. Beneath the tray of cookies, his cock leapt to full attention.

Sylvie gasped. A huge smile spread across her face. "Or," she said with a seductive pout, "Remy could come here." She reached behind her head to undo the band holding back her hair. A gentle swing sent it tumbling down her back, and she sighed as she massaged her scalp. "Oh, that's so much better."

"Have a cookie. Chocolate will make it all better." He lifted the tray, giving her a good look at his erection.

Sylvie chuckled. "I'll be right back." She disappeared long enough to duck back into the other room, and he heard the lock click on the trailer door. When she returned, she pulled the string securing her bikini top free. A tug at her hips had her bottoms falling to join the top, and, naked, she strode over to the bed.

"You look good enough to eat," Remy said.

"So do your cookies." She grabbed one off the tray and stretched out beside him on the double bed. Closing her eyes, she brought the morsel to her lips. She bit and chewed, a low moan rumbling from her throat. "Oh, God, I think I've died and gone to heaven. You, naked in my bed, and chocolate. What are these?"

He turned his head and kissed a crumb from the corner of her mouth. "Gator shit cookies."

She coughed, laughing, and stared at the plate he held. "They're what?"

"Gator shit cookies." Remy held one up. "Because they look like, well, what the name implies."

Sylvie snatched the cookie out of his hand. "Maybe if the gator is sick. You forget that I work with them on a regular basis. Gator shit isn't usually flat, round discs." She devoured the offered snack and grinned.

"Should I be offended? This is my mother's recipe."

She laughed. Falling back on the pillow, she squeezed her eyes closed and laughed some more. "Then she should definitely know what that looks like." Opening her eyes, she picked up the tray and set it on the bedside table. "But I don't want to talk about gator crap. You're here. I've been busting my ass to finish this shoot and I have a few hours until our next take. I just want to spend that time with you." She curled into his side, splaying her palm across his stomach.

Remy reached for her. Outside the sounds of a set filtered through, from the shouts of orders being given to equipment being moved. Someone laughed. A car engine sounded awfully close. Wrapping his arms around her, he tucked her against his chest, loving the way her breasts pressed against him. Their legs tangled. Breathing deeply, he smelled the glorious mixture of sweat, sun block, and Sylvie's own unique fragrance. She murmured something nonsensical against his skin, and her hand swept down his thigh before sweeping back up to rest over his breastbone.

Her cuddle caught him off guard. His plan had been to arrive with cookies and invite himself into her trailer where they'd have sex until she had to go back to work. A smile lifted the corners of his lips. With her nestled against him like this, he could think about the two of them, back in Florida, lazing about in the sun like two gators.

The scent of them clung to her. Dipping his head, he sniffed her skin, camouflaging his actions with a kiss against her shoulder. Other male alligators, most likely the ones she worked with, had rubbed against her arms and legs. His cock swelled, a definite need building inside him to mark her and claim her as his own.

Apparently she had similar thoughts because her hand caressed a trail down to the root of his shaft. Her thumb brushed his length, and he drew in a sharp breath.

"Want another cookie?" Remy reached behind him to the plate he'd set on the table and picked up a cookie. He offered it to her with a smile.

"I'd prefer to eat you."