This A list athlete and B- mostly movie actress were seen in a foreign country getting cozy with one another. There was an explosion on set over their love affair with an A- list director currently directing her film. The A list athlete was ultimately banned from set after a physical fight broke out between the two men. One of the two men walked away with an injury. Production on set is shut down for two weeks.

She squirms beneath his gaze. He likes the way she seems bothered, but not necessarily in the worst way. She doesn't look uncomfortable. In fact, she looks rather confident despite him openly staring at her. So she stares back at him with those deliciously brown eyes and slightly pouty lips. It feels like hours have gone by without either of them saying anything, but it's only been a few short minutes.

"Where are you staying?" She says, practically choking on her words. There is nearly an entire trailer between them as he hasn't moved from his spot by the door. She's leaned back on her hands. He thinks she looks amazing.

He swallows thickly and scratches at the back of his head. He slowly shoves his hands into his pockets. He says with a shrug, "I'm not sure."

"Well, that's just no good," she comments with a grin. His resolve melts away and he steps cautiously towards her. His hands tap against his thighs, a tired tongue slides over his lips, absently wetting them. She says, "Surely you can stay with your-"

"I can find a hotel," he interjects, "That isn't a problem."

She smirks there. She says, "It's nice that they still like each other, isn't it? How long has it been?"

"Twenty-three years," he answers. He tilts his head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He doesn't understand why he's asking. Truthfully, he didn't think this through. He bought a plane ticket, but didn't make any hotel arrangements. He sighs in defeat. "Look, maybe I should just go."

"Nonsense," she replies. He watches her practically jump to her feet and cross the trailer, extending her hand and lightly touching his wrist. He twists his wrist beneath her fingers, lightly touching her hand with his. "Follow me."

She can hear his steps heavy behind her, the weight of his bag crashing into his thigh with every step he takes as he follows her down the hallway of the hotel. The hotel is a good half hour away from set, the drive long and consisting of awkward, idle conversation. There's a lot she wants to ask him (like "What the fuck, Harvey?!"), but she wants privacy away from the cab driver. She wants privacy and it isn't likely she's going to get it.

The man in the hotel lobby looks at her and her guest with such wide eyes that the suggestion he get his own room in a different hotel was sitting on the tip of her tongue, but she just couldn't ask him to. He'd flown thousands of miles, blown off his training, just to see her and she had to give him that chance. For some stupid reason she wanted to give this man she barely knows a chance to redeem himself.

She slips the key into the door and pushes her door open, pressing her back into the heavy metal to open the door for him. She makes room for him and he slips into her hotel room. The closeness of his body to hers almost makes her abandon all reason.

"Have a seat," she suggests, gesturing to the room. The door slams shut behind her, the echo piercing her ears and she silences it with the flick of her turning the lights on. She watches him as he looks around the room, probably for the most appropriate place to sit. "It isn't much."

"I like that about you," he admits, voice so silky that she almost thinks she heard him incorrectly. He turns back toward her and offers her a small smile. She can't help but feel slightly offended by his statement. "You don't do everything for the appearance. You're real, like you still believe in the world."

"Why are you like that?"

"What?" He asks with a shrug, setting his bag on the floor at his feet. Reluctantly, he sits on the edge of the bed. She realizes there isn't really anywhere else for them to sit.

"Like you've lost all hope," she muses.

He smiles softly. He says, "I came all of the way here to see you. I must have some kind of hope."

She stares at herself in the mirror, her hair still wet from her shower and a fluffy white towel wrapped around her. He's in the other room, quietly entertaining herself as she washes her day off of her. She's almost afraid to face him.

The reality is that she liked him, probably even too much, and she had gotten her hopes up a little too high. He hadn't called or even texted since she'd left. Part of her wonders if she did forgive him, if he would do something like this again. He's a good man, but she can't be hurt by him right now. He obviously has some things to work through.

She makes herself presentable before leaving the bathroom to face him again. She doesn't even know what's left to say. Has too much time passed for them by now? She sighs and opens the bathroom door. He's still sitting on the edge of the mattress like he doesn't belong. She never imagined he would be uncomfortable anywhere.

"You could have made yourself comfortable," she says.

"I know you don't want to forgive me," he starts, "But I've been thinking a lot about why you should."

"Why is that?" She hums.

"Because I do like you, Donna, and unless I've just made a fool of myself, I think you like me too," he replies. He stands in front of her, all gusto that was missing when she'd first seen him suddenly returned to his demeanor. She feels his hand touch her hips and her breath catches in her throat. How is he doing this? "And because I'm sorry."

She feels herself nodding slowly, stupidly, like every bit of her is being magnetically pulled to him. She had really thought after everything, she wouldn't fall so quickly for someone. She likes him way more than she should after just meeting him.

She swallows thickly. Her hands wrap around his forearms. He looks genuinely sorry but she is extremely curious about why he just disappeared. She's scared. But the rational part of her says that he wouldn't risk his career not showing up to practice and being seen in a country all of the way around the world if she didn't mean something to him. She is always a sucker for romance.

"You coming all of the way here to surprise me is kind of romantic," she absently agrees. He smiles shyly, the look on his face making a grin spread across her own. She's going to forgive him. "Are you going to kiss me now or what?"

He feels a weight on his torso as he peels his eyes open to a room that is particularly brighter than he'd expected. Not that he doesn't have an extremely bright apartment back home. He squints and looks down at the weight on his chest. Her red hair is disheveled, but her arm is tucked around him in such a protective manner that he doesn't even want to try to move anymore than he already has.

They'd kissed for a little bit, talked for a little bit, and she'd fallen asleep on his shoulder even though he was extremely tired from the flight and the time zone change. He couldn't fall asleep before her. He needed to be sure that she actually forgave him.

Her head is on his stomach, hair tangling in with the material of his shirt. He leans his head back on the pillow beneath him, bracing himself for what could be a long wait before she wakes. He releases a heavy breath, nearly panicking when she immediately moves in response. Her thumb digs into his skin and it stings for a quick moment. He hisses quietly, swallowing as much of the sound as is possible.

"What time is it?" She grumbles.

He sighs, feeling a panic rise in his chest. He scans the room for the time, but doesn't immediately spot anything. He reaches for the nearest phone and hits the button to light up the screen, and he's met with an abundance of notifications beneath the time. It's nearly noon.

He swallows. He says, "It's almost noon."

"Shit," she mutters.

"Yeah," he absently agrees, "Your phone has been blowing up."

He extends her phone to her but she doesn't take it. She stretches out across him, her forehead nestling into the crook of his neck. He smirks and sets her phone back down on the bed behind her. He slips his arm around her back, fingers sliding onto her hip.

"I'm very, very late," she says, slipping her hand beneath the hem of his shirt, "And Mitchell is not going to be happy."

"Mitchell?" Harvey mulls, "This the Mitchell guy?"

"You don't have to worry about him," she assures all too quickly.

"I know," Harvey says with a smirk, "But does he know that?"

"I already told him I'm not interested," she says.

She's losing her mind. She's blowing off work for a guy she barely knows, a very important leading role being put on the back burner for a man who literally blew her off for weeks. She's stupid, and she fell hard for this man after 3 days. She's never fallen for anyone. She's always been extremely smart about men except for that one lapse of judgment she had.

Her back is against the wall, her legs draped over his lap, and she pops a cherry into her mouth. She squishes it between her teeth and grins at him. His hand settles on her knee and slides down her thigh. She shivers beneath his fingertips, leaning forward and holding a cherry against his lips. His lips part and he takes it into his mouth, swallowing it just as quickly.

He looks adorably tired, and she should really pick up her phone to let someone know that she over slept, that she will be there soon. She should really let him sleep. She hasn't said as such. She's given some small indication that she's going to be in trouble, but she doesn't want to leave when she knows that he's so unsettled with Mitchell. Plus, she needed something to eat.

"You don't have to be jealous of Mitchell," she finally says, leaning back against the wall.

"I'm not," he reassures, "I just heard he's been after you for awhile."

"He wants us to stage a relationship," she admits, "But I don't want that. I want something real."

"What's real to you?" He asks.

He's really trying to step outside of his comfort zone, she can tell. He almost looks shy with this boyish flavor in his features. His lips are curled ever so slightly at the edges, hair sticking to and running from his head. But she still doesn't want to answer him. With all of his charm, she knows she will scare him away even after his grand, romantic gesture.

She hums absently for a few moments before she grins wanly, like she's pondering telling him every single one of her deepest, darkest secrets. She has many. She doesn't have any. She toys the line between being coy and being honest at any given moment.

"Wanting to be with someone so bad that you think beyond all reason," she says softly. She can't look at him, like she's afraid of what he will say or do. Her fingers find a loose thread on the bed and absently toy with it to distract herself. "Being open and honest. That undeniable attraction."

"I can relate," he says. His voice is low in the back of his throat and it commands her attention. She has to look at him now. She wants to know his every thought, see his every emotion on his face. "I've never liked someone as much as I like you."

"Oh yeah?" She asks, voice teetering on the edge of teasing. Her breath hitches in her chest instead.

"Yeah, you're real," he says, taking a moment to reach for her hand and tug her towards him. He meets her more towards the center of the bed. His boyish charm has evaded him and that raw manliness has taken over his rugged features. He says, "I like everything about you."

And she can't contain her giddiness anymore, her body arching towards his in such an awkward way but she's too busy passionately meeting his lips with her own to notice the cramps in her bones. Her body slides over him, knees instantly parting to settle on either side of his hipbones, and she lowers herself onto him.

She can feel his erection through his pants. She inhales upon the contact and she feels him smirk against her mouth. The taste of his tongue is sweet, warm, inviting like a cup of hot cocoa on a cold, December night. She is elated by him, the sharpness of his tongue slipping between her slightly parted lips taking her by painstaking surprise.

His hands push up her thighs, fingers slipping between them in an effortless search of her center. She feels the pads of his fingers press hard against her panties, the coyness of his touch lingering there as her heart practically stops beating. Her hands brace themselves on his shoulders, fingers squeezing him so tight that he winces in pain. She loosens her grasp, making herself breathe normally again.

He kisses her deeper, nipping at the corner of her mouth with his teeth. The distraction leaves her thoughtless as he slips a finger beneath her panty line, drawing just barely between her lips. She sighs, smoothing a hand down his chest to unbutton his pants and unzipping them with ease. She lowers herself more, his fingers pressing more into her.

She pulls her mouth from his, moan falling from her mouth. Her fingers push on his boxer briefs and he lifts his hips off of the bed to give her a little help. He releases an equally luscious groan as his erection is freed from its constriction. She slips her fingers into his hand, pressing against his palm to move his hand from inside of her.

Part of her hesitates because she knows they should use some kind of protection, but the other part of her just doesn't care. She lowers herself onto his length so slowly that he lifts his hips to meet her in the middle. He groans as he drops his forehead against her chest, seemingly using her to brace himself.

"How's that?" She mutters.

"Really, really good," he replies. He presses a kiss against her exposed cleavage. She shudders beneath his kiss, slowly rocking her hips back and forth. He sighs and presses his fingers against the small of her back. He moans a hearty, "God."

She grins and buries her head into his neck. They rock like that for a few minutes until she feels his hand drop between them and his thumb draw circles against her. She feels a warmth rise in her stomach until her uterus contracts around him, which prompts him to stop breathing against her skin for a moment or two before he follows quickly behind in his own orgasm.

They both sit there for a good half a minute attempting to catch their breaths before either of them move. She hesitates again, knowing that she really needs to leave. She wants nothing more than to stay in bed all day with him though.

He made a few phone calls when she finally (it was a begrudging thing where she dragged her feet and he did everything he could to keep her from leaving) left to face the real world. And he knows without a doubt that she's going to be gone for quite some time, if not all night. Especially after delaying filming for nearly all of sunlight. She had explained that it's a setback but not one that can't be overcome.

His phone calls consisted of him facing the real world, too. He knows that the truth of his whereabouts will come out, especially because he wants nothing more than to parade around the city holding her hand. He knows how delicate relationships are in Hollywood, including timing and placement, but for once he doesn't care. He doesn't want to overthink his feelings for her, just wants to act on them.

But he uses his time wisely in cleaning up a few loose ends. The repercussions include him not getting to start opening day. And it's the first opening day that he hasn't thrown the first pitch in 4 years. He will just have to get over it. And he thinks for a certain fiery redhead he just might be able to get over it rather quickly.

He joins Jessica and his father for dinner at some restaurant in the middle of Adelaide. Jessica raved about the food all of the way from the hotel to the restaurant. He watched as his father nodded along, chiming in every once and a while, and he absently wonders if that's what a long term life together is. The closest thing he ever had to a relationship was Scottie, and they mostly just played head games with one another. They were never really going anywhere together.

He takes the booth across from them and instantly feels like the third wheel. But he knows that as soon as their drinks are ordered it will become something else. They have questions and they won't stop without any answers. He will hesitate to give them but he ultimately will because they are really the best parents a guy could have.

The waitress takes their order, obviously awestruck by Jessica as most people who aren't sports fans (or Americans) are, and quickly returns with a bottle of wine from the bar like it's a peace offering. His father will, of course, leave a larger than life tip because he doesn't like frivolous and expensive gifts being given to his woman by anyone other than him. Not that the above and beyond treatment at restaurants isn't always nice, but they do all have a reputation to uphold.

With the bottle corked and glasses poured, Harvey braces himself for the inevitable line of questioning to come. Appetizers are on their way and the kitchen has their order with strict instructions not to start cooking it until their appetizer is completely gone. He never understood the long process of dining that Jessica and his father take, but he doesn't question it. He supposes everything is different when you enjoy the company of your dinner companion.

"So, what happened?" And it's Jessica who asks first. She never breaks the ice like his father does. She just barrels right into the conversation head first.

"Uh..." he hesitates there, not sure just how explicit he should get. He shrugs then and takes a sip of his wine. A glance around the room suggests they may be a tad bit over dressed, but they always must be. He swallows the liquid and says, "We just talked."

"No you idiot," Jessica bites, lovingly of course, "We introduced her to you because we thought you were perfect for each other. Why'd you nearly screw that up?"

He sighs there. He already told his father what happened so surely Jessica already knows everything. He debates even delving into it at this point. Reluctantly, he concedes. He says, simply, "Mom."

"What about her?" Jessica asks, but he knows it's a rhetorical question. He watches her long, delicate fingers peel at her glass but never grasping it for a drink. Growing up with Jessica was no small feat. "She's not an excuse, boy."

"I know," he says, like he's a small child, "I just..."

"I raised you better than that," she says, voice stern. And although Jessica wasn't his mother, she is the closest thing to it that he's ever really had. She's never let him go a day that he isn't felt loved or respected. He doesn't know why he even lets his mother get into his head still. "Your mother doesn't deserve you, but I love you. And any woman would be lucky to have you if you just let them."

"I'm trying," he says with an affirmative nod.

"Good," Jessica says, finally picking up her glass, "Because I like this one."

He feels his mouth stupidly spread into a grin. Jessica takes her sip and he decides that he's just going to tell them everything he can get away with. He says, "I really like her, too. She's everything that Scottie could never be."

"A decent human being?" His father mutters under his breath.

Harvey shrugs carelessly in response. He says, "She's real."

And somehow, they both get it.

Lucky for him, Jessica was requested back on set as an emergency right at the end of dinner. Although he's pretty sure that she had tossed back most of that wine, she's still on the top of her game. Come to think of it, he doesn't think he's ever seen her not at the top of her game. And he realizes that Jessica sets an extremely high standard for women all around.

She didn't have to be the best mother the universe has to offer to him or his brother, but she continues to be. And she didn't have to support him and love him and care for him just because he was the kid to the man she married. No, he always felt genuinely cared for by her not just because he was Gordon's kid. She disciplined him without hesitation and gave him those stern talks when they needed to be done and, most of all, she was there when Tracy Abernathy broke his heart in the 9th grade.

He really doesn't even understand why his mother even warrants trust issues with women when he's had Jessica to pick up the slack. And Jessica has made his father an extremely happy man. It's almost as though Gordon and Jessica were always destined to be together. And if that's the case, she really wasn't kidding when she repeatedly told him that he and Marcus were bonuses for them - they were little gifts that she thought they would have missed out on if they'd met just a moment sooner. She once told him she felt so lucky to call him her son, and he believed it because she never said anything that she didn't mean (including that time she said she would put him on house arrest if he sneaked out one more time, he was grounded for a month with no ifs ands or buts).

He follows behind the extremely happy couple as Gordon kisses Jessica's temple and watches her rush off to set. When he saddles up to his father's side, the lights are shining bright down on a school of people and Harvey really can't even tell who is who anymore. He will never understand this side of show business. That's why he turned down that one commercial they asked him to do a few months ago. It's been 5 years and he's still warming up to photo shoots.

Jessica disappears behind a wall for a few minutes and returns looking like a totally different person. She's two people. Harvey has never personally seen his mother figure in action, but he's absolutely floored.

But he hears the woman before he sees her. In fact, her voice is buried deep in the crowd and he can't even see her if he squints. So, he waits patiently for whatever is happening to unfold before he jolts into any kind of action sequence. He's tired by the time someone yells cut so loudly that it almost brings him back to life. And he didn't even do anything except pace in circles and sit in chairs with other people's name on it.

He feels himself perk up as her familiar face cuts through the crowd of people. She must see him almost immediately because she starts heading in his direction. His insides swell at the idea that she sees him and might want to be near him. He really likes her. She's going to get him into trouble.

"Hey," she greets his father, "Gordon, it's great to see you again."

Harvey feels a smile spread across his mouth as his father opens his arms in a wide embrace and Donna steps into them without hesitation. His father never seemed so warm and inviting with Scottie, not even after years of him and Scottie being whatever him and Scottie were. Donna has the approval of everyone, and being with her makes him feel really special. He watches on with his hands buried in his pockets like he's just waiting his turn.

"And you," she says, turning her attention to Harvey, "You look handsome."

Her hands wrap around his forearms and slide down to his elbows. She smiles widely, and he knows that he has a stupid smile on his face. He takes a quick look at her and notes that her attire today is very different than her attire from the day before. She looks great no matter what.

She's forgetting her lines. She's incredibly distracted by a man who is not her boyfriend, but willingly flew thousands of miles without being asked to just so he could say sorry. And she likes him so much despite the fact that she told herself many times that she shouldn't, that she doesn't even have time for a boyfriend. He makes her feel so giddy inside. And she loves it.

Mitchell yells cut, aggressively frustrated. At her, no doubt. But her head is just so cloudy with thoughts of a man who has been in her bed every night for the last 3 nights. Well, not her bed, but in the hotel she's been staying at. Leaving every day has been incredibly difficult. And despite all of this, the moment Mitchell angrily yells for a break, she turns into a school girl.

Her usually calm and collected demeanor turns into a bundle of reckless emotion as she breaks out into a near run. Her feet carry her so rapidly that her brain doesn't even have time to catch up. She jumps into his arms and, thankfully, the beautiful man is waiting for her with possibly the largest grin she's ever seen. It's been 3 blissful days and she thinks she's just a fool in love. Every moment with him is absolutely amazing.

"You're amazing," he says, like he's reading he thoughts or something. She feels herself blush as the toes of her shoes touch the ground. She tries to tell herself that when he leaves in a few days, it's all going away with him. "You're killing it out there."

"I'm not," she disagrees with a light shake of her head, "I'm forgetting my lines. I'm so flustered."

"Nah," he says, "My girl is amazing."

She feels a warmth in the pit of her stomach at the thought of being his. She's always been a woman who refuses to belong to any man, but there's just something about the way he says it like he's so sure of what he wants. She kisses him and immediately feels his hand against her jaw. His fingers are soft, so soft for a man who uses his hands every day.

"Donna," she hears behind her. She reluctantly pulls away. She looks Mitchell square in the eye, her hands still tightly wrapped around the bunched up material of Harvey's shirt around his hips. "Oh, I see."

"Mitchell," she says calmly, "This is Harvey."

"I know who he is," Mitchell bites, "I just didn't realize you were fucking him, too."

"Too?" She repeats. She turns around in front of Harvey, pressing her back against his front like she's trying to keep him from going anywhere. She hasn't known him long, but she knows him to be passionate about everything he cares for. "Mitchell, you and I aren't having a fling."

"We just agreed to go public with our relationship," he says. He's full of shit. She's not happy and with every passing second she can tell that Harvey is becoming increasingly angry. "And now you're going behind my back with this guy?"

"It's hardly behind your back," Harvey comments with a snort and a smirk.

"Harvey," she warns while biting her tongue. A smirk is threatening her own lips. She slaps Harvey's hip lightly before looking at Mitchell again. "I told you I didn't want to fake a relationship with you. I want something real."

"You think this guy will give you real?" Mitchell says, "This guy is a player. He can have any woman he wants, why do you think he would settle for you?"

"Enough!" Harvey interjects, taking a forceful step around her to close the space between him and Mitchell. "You don't know me. And you certainly don't deserve her."

"Me?" Mitchell starts laughing there, "What about you? You were out hitting on some girls just last week."

She's stunned. He couldn't call her but he could go hit on some girls. Someone somewhere must have done her a solid and kept her from seeing it. She can't even imagine who would have known about her and Harvey in the first place.

"Is this true?" She asks.

He hesitates. She doesn't like the hesitation and it's just long enough to really make her mad. She huffs and storms off.

"Donna!" He says while knocking against the door of her trailer.

A gust of wind picks up for a nanosecond and it's just enough to make his face sting. At least the other guy looks worse...kind of. Things got out of hand so fast.

He pushes the door to her trailer open and lets himself inside. He knows she's in here and she didn't lock it which means she doesn't hate him. He sees her sprawled across the bed, barely breathing. He locks the door and crosses to her. He spreads across the bed beside her.

"You can't keep doing this to me, Harvey," she says, "You didn't call but you were taking some girls home?"

"I never took them home," he replies. He knows it isn't the point, but he feels like she deserves to know the whole story. "My mom showed up at my house and I didn't want to see her. I went to the bar with some of my teammates and these women kept coming up to me. I didn't even want to be there but I didn't know if my mom was still loitering outside of my apartment."

"Harvey," she says, softly and reassuring. He should have called her.

He sighs. He says, "I should have called you, but she just makes me so crazy. I think all women are going to do to me what she did to my dad."

"Your dad didn't dwell on it, neither should you," she says.

She has a point. He knows that there isn't any excuse for why he's got mommy issues. He has Jessica and he's always really considered her a mom. For as long as he can remember she's been the mom he could count on.

"You'll just have to forgive me," he says, "Because if you don't, Jessica is going to kick my ass."

She looks at him then and he feels a sense of warmth, a reassurance, but the grin that was gracing her features is instantly gone at the sight of him. He realizes that this is the first time she's even looked at him since he entered her trailer.

"What the hell happened?" She nearly shrieks.

"Words were exchanged. He hit me. I hit him. It was real manly," he admits. He rolls over then, wincing slightly when he applies pressure to his hand. He rests on his back and lifts his hand above his face. "Broke his nose though."

"You didn't," she says, low and guttural. She sits upright and gets a closer look at his temple closest to her now. He nods right before she can touch him. When her fingers press against his face, a sting rushes through him. "I've never had anyone fight for my honor before."

He shrugs and she leans down to kiss him. When her lips touch his, there's a relentless banging on the door. She smooths her hand over his shoulders and searches for his hand. It stings. He wouldn't be surprised if he broke a knuckle, which is a shame because he needs that hand.

"I want him off of my set! Now!"