They'll bitch about anything, sweetheart. I seem to remember one such article that said you were ripped when the paparazzi caught you jogging.

[If it were up to Richie he'd write paragraphs about the dust of freckles on his nose and the dimples on his cheeks when he smiled but Hollywood was a cruel mistress and an even worse nine to five. These were exactly the kind of things that needed to be taken in stride.

Once again, Eddie knocks his breath out of him but there's no complaint just an easy grin at the comfortable weight in his lap. The kissing, well, that's a surprise. It had been a while, and the tightness in his pants betrays him.]

God, look at you - you're horny. That's why you flew out here, don't try to butter me up about my cooking now you little slut.