She still hadn’t looked him full in the face. Teo cupped his hands over her shoulders. “Your eyes are burning and it’s my fault.”
Of course, her distress brought out all the male protective reactions in him. Here was his chance to score points with a vulnerable female. He puffed his muscles, steered her into the changing room and shut the door.
“I don’t like anyone poking their fingers in my eye except Peter,” she whined. “He does all my makeup.”
Teo’s gut clenched, not liking this Peter already. “I wear contacts too, let me wash my hands.”
She stood still while he washed his hands.
“Open your eyes,” he coaxed her.
“I can’t, they’re burning. I stuck my finger in and made it worse.”
“Let me get it for you.” He feathered his fingers over her smooth skin and gently propped a lid open, but couldn’t get the swiping motion correct since he was only used to removing his own lenses. He also couldn’t help noticing her fine narrow eyes, very Japanese—and very, very alluring.
She pushed his hand away. “Stop it. You poked my eye.”
“I can get it, but only if I pretend it’s my own. Let me try. Stay still.” He was nowhere done with being a hero, especially if the damsel in distress was such a cutie.
Carefully, he stepped behind her and rested her face on the side of his, then wrapped his arms around her.
Yum. Her scent, a hint of coconut sunscreen with floral accents made him want to kiss her, but he’d better control himself and get that contact lens out. After earning her eternal gratitude, she would no doubt reward him.
He could do it. Easy. With his left hand, he opened her eye and rubbed the soft lens gently with the middle finger of his right hand.
“Where’s your case?” He could feel her heart fluttering and her breath tighten in small, nervous pants.
“Just toss it. They’re disposables. Thanks.” She dabbed at her eye, blinking.
“Okay, the other one. It’s hard to prop your eye open, let me know if it hurts.”
The eyelid was so tight it kept slipping, and it was difficult to concentrate with the electricity arcing between them. She had to be feeling it too, the instant chemistry. Teo didn’t believe in love at first sight, but lust at first contact? Definitely. One more lens before the kissing started. Patience.
He murmured reassuring sounds while enjoying the intimacy, trapping her cheek to cheek. After a few more tries, he was able to extract the second lens and toss it in the trash.
Time for the reward. Heat crashed over Teo and he prepared himself for her gratitude. He’d be controlled at first, but before she could take the second breath and pull away, he’d turn her into his arms and kiss her senseless.
“Thanks.” Her voice was small as she dabbed her eyes. “You can leave now.”
Leave? That was it? He’d helped her, and she didn’t even care to ask his name?
Teo wasn’t used to being dismissed by a woman, especially one who treated him like a servant. Did she know who he was, a MotoGP racer and the son of a Greek billionaire?
Gently, he swept her hair from her face and tipped her chin to look at him. She lowered her gaze and sniffed, her lips trembling.
So, she felt the attraction too. Good. Teo caressed her cheek. Her eyes were not heavily made up, and she had a freshness about her, an innocence that sparked his curiosity.
The simple stud earrings she wore and her general lack of jewelry showed she was likely unemployed, a Hollywood hopeful. One of many graduates of fine arts programs who hoped to make it in the movies. A woman like her had no business being on the mean streets of Hollywood, going to casting calls only to find the casting couch awaiting her.
Teo’s thumb slid across her lips. “Let me guess, you’re an actress.”
“I hope to be.” Her voice squeaked like a mouse caught in a trap.
“Recent grad?”
She nodded. “I’ve been to a few open casting calls.”
“I might have something for you.” Teo had resources. He could figure out a scheme to keep in touch with her. Not a problem with the oodles of cash he had.
His heartbeat leapt, and he steadied his breathing. “Amanda Silver, the Hollywood talent agent who owns this house? Her grandson and I are best buds. They’re filming a reality show and I think you’re perfect for it.”
“You’re serious?” Her bloodshot eyes shot wide open, well, as wide as possible given their slender kabuki-doll shape.
“Yes, I can put in a good word for you.” Teo couldn’t help roving his eyes over her assets. She had an innocent beauty about her, definitely someone Oba-chan would approve of. A bit shy, fresh out of acting school, he’d bet she’d even know a few lines of Japanese. “What’s your name?”
“Amy.” A smile slipped on her face. “Amy Suzuki.”
Ah ha. She was interested in him. Her shy, demure smile was designed to entice him and give him confidence to chase her. Make him feel big and strong. And a name like Suzuki, the maker of the best motorcycles in the world? Perfect!
He grasped the nape of her neck. “Now, for the audition.”
Dipping his face toward her, he turned her head and swept his lips over hers.
She gasped and tried drawing back, but he pressed his advantage at the shock that opened her mouth. Suavely, he slid his tongue across the seam for a taste. Spicy. Had she been sucking on Tabasco sauce? His pulse raced, and he dug his fingers into her hair and pulled her up to his height.
Her arms were still stiff, fighting him, but her lips, oh, how sweet they were. She kissed him back, had to be, because a soft moan escaped her throat. And while he’d only meant to test her willingness, he was drawn deeper into her—her flowery, coconut scent swirling around him, her breath feathering between his teeth, and the slurping sounds of their lips suggesting other more heated sounds. A shot of lust ignited in his belly, and his arousal sprang alive.
Holding her away from him so she couldn’t feel the evidence, he released her.
Smack. Her petite palm delivered a stinging slap that whipped his head around.
Shoving him aside, she grabbed the doorknob and opened the door. Her lips curled into a snarl. “You’re just like the rest of them, asshole.”
“Wrong,” he shouted after her. “I’m Teo Alexiou. Look me up.”
“In your dreams.”
Chapter 3
Amy dabbed her eyes and bolted out of the cabana. Unbelievable how arrogant that man was. Just because she was an aspiring actress didn’t give him the green light to molest her. She wiped her lips, still tingling from the kiss that made her knees weak and her insides throbbing to fall at his feet.
Granted he was a hunk, tanned, looking Latin or Mediterranean with slanted eyes suggesting Asian heritage, but what gave him the right to corral her into a lip lock after poking his body parts into hers? Cough. Okay, so it was only his fingertips into her eyes, and she was not turned on, not at all, despite the jumpy unsettled curl in her lower regions.
Her cheeks flushed with anger, definitely not desire, Amy raced to the pool area looking for Peter, her ride home. As far as she was concerned, the party was over. Without her contacts, everything took on a shade of blur. Her makeup was a mess, thanks to that caveman Teo. What kind of name was that?
Amy spotted said caveman swaggering from the cabana toward the sunroom past the pool. He’d pulled on a pair of sunglasses, and even though she couldn’t see his eyes, a tingle of excitement rushed through her veins at how close he’d been, cheek to cheek with his arm around her and his piquant male scent tempting her to lick and yes, fall at his feet.
Snap! Not going there. Hollywood was full of fine male specimens, hot and yummy on the outside, but rotten to the core. Everyone was searching, grasping for that next big chance, ready to step over and onto anyone. Add the sleaze who preyed on newbies, and the waters were positively too dangerous to swim in.
Amy draped a beach towel over her shoulders and wandered to the cov
ered bar made to look like a tiki hut. Peter would be hanging around the models and their makeup consultants, trying to score tips.
She narrowed her eyes at the glistening tanned bodies on display. Racks and racks of breasts, legs, and pierced belly buttons. She didn’t dare parade herself in front of the rows of men idling in the lounge chairs in case another self-important jerk tried to molest her.
Too bad Teo was a waste of a handsome face. He’d been about to introduce her to someone important, but that had only been a pretext. It wasn’t as if she was against kissing a stranger. She’d done it plenty of times on screen, but she’d preferred to be asked, or wooed or at least not be ambushed. Sheesh.
Not finding Peter, Amy got herself a drink so as not to look out of place, and parked herself on a chaise lounge under an umbrella near a group of middle-aged women. From there, she could observe the pool and the patio as well as the sunroom attached to the main house.
A half hour later, Peter walked out of the sunroom and raised his hand for a high-five.
“You’re not going to believe this, but I might have scored a deal for you.”
Amy pulled off her sunglasses to stare at him. “Really? That’s awesome.”
Peter froze and peered at her face. “What happened to all the makeup I put on you? And your eyes are red. You look like a drunk or a preschooler with pinkeye. Yuck! What are you going to do about the audition? He wants to check you out right now at the party.”
“Can we take a rain check?” Amy blinked her irritated eyes. “I can’t even think right now, my eyes are burning. I had to remove my contacts because I got sunscreen in them.”
“Rain check? Are you kidding? This is Amanda Silver’s grandson we’re talking about. Can’t you dip your head in the pool and rinse your eyes out?”
“And his name? It’s not Teo is it?”
“No, who’s Teo? Ronaldo Silver’s going to be handling the casting. This is a big opportunity. He’s talking one hundred grand for three months.”
Amy’s jaw popped to the floor. “One hundred grand for three months. What’s the name of the show?”
“High concept. Documentary. You go on the road with a bunch of motorcycle racers.”
“And do what?” Amy’s bullshit detector clanged like a firehouse bell. “Drape myself over their bikes and look slutty? No thank you.”
She gathered her things and walked toward the gate.
Peter grabbed her arm. “You’re not walking away from a hundred grand. At least speak to the guy.”
“I’m not arm candy. Is this a meaningful documentary or reality trash?”
Peter whistled, throwing his arms up and down. “With your eyes redder than a poisoned apple, you’re not getting a part unless it’s for a zombie bride. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m footing your rent?”
“If you’re so eager to get rid of me, I’ll move out.” Not that she had anywhere to go but home. But after getting manhandled by the likes of Teo, Amy wasn’t about to get auditioned by any of the men at this party. What if they were just like Teo?
“Calm down, will you?” Peter put his arm around her shoulder. “It can’t hurt to talk to Ronaldo. Besides, there are probably other actresses vying for the spot.”
Peter was right. She had to at least consider the one hundred grand. Since she graduated from USC without a job, her parents had cut off funding her apartment. They wanted her to move back home and work in her father’s medical office as a receptionist.
“Fine, but do you think I’ll be okay with these bloodshot eyes?” Amy fumbled through her purse for her compact. “You brought my headshots, right?”
Peter took a folder from his messenger bag. “Everything’s here, including your résumé. Let’s find him before all the other ladies corner him.”
Amy hurriedly applied lip gloss to replace the shine taken off by the caveman kissing lesson. “I suppose you’ll get your agent’s cut? I have to pay you back for the rent.”
Peter wasn’t officially her agent, but Amy wasn’t a freeloader. She definitely didn’t want to stiff her best friend, especially since he also had student loans to pay.
“Just think.” He squeezed her shoulder. “This could be the start of a lucrative relationship. Hollywood agent Peter Stafford and starlet Amy Suzuki.”
“Okay, okay, let’s go find this guy.” She put on her sunglasses while her insides churned and her throat went dry. Getting a real acting job could put her career back on track and show her parents her dream was valid, that she could earn a living as an actress.
Peter tapped a text message on his cell phone. A reply jingled a few minutes later.
“He says to meet him in the game room inside.” Peter guided Amy to a pair of French doors.
They stepped into a den full of pinball machines, gaming consoles, and a pool table surrounded by shelves stacked with Star Trek memorabilia.
A man draped with a towel around his shoulders waved them to the bar. He was surrounded by plastic looking models, their false eyelashes fluttering like moth wings.
Okay, if that was Ronaldo, he was a serious hunk. He wasn’t very tall, but he was deeply tanned with perfectly straight white teeth and a firm build cut with sleek muscles.
“What did you say Ronaldo did? Is he talent acquisition for his grandmother?”
“He’s a racer on the MotoGP pro circuit, but yes, his recommendations carry a lot of weight with his grandmother. This project’s one she’ll let him have full rein on, and if he does well, his father will produce it for network TV.”
“But look at those women surrounding him. He’s obviously got a lot to choose from.”
“Oh, ye of little faith.” Peter rubbed his hands. “Watch this.”
He sauntered toward the bar and reached out to shake Ronaldo’s hand. “My client’s ready for her audition.”
Groan. Peter had already perfected the smarmy agent look with his gelled back hair and cheesy grin. Amy would have been mortified had she actually known anyone at the party.
Ronaldo shook Peter’s hand, then turned to his playmates. “Set up the pool table for a bit of strip pool. I have a business meeting.”
Amy flipped off her sunglasses, blinking to let her irritated eyes adjust to the dim light.
Ronaldo touched the small of her back. “Let’s talk on the bridge of the Starship Enterprise. You’d make a great Uhuru. I should have you suit up.”
“I’d think she’d be Mrs. Sulu, if he had a wife,” Peter chimed in, being the dork he was.
Ronaldo guided them into a circular elevator that resembled the transporter room, including the circles to stand on. The elevator took them up to the red doors which opened to a replica of the starship bridge, complete with red rails, mock instrument panels, and a row of captain’s chairs. Plush leather sofas, not found on the real Enterprise, and a wide flat-panel TV completed the home theatre layout.
A life-sized wax model of Spock stood across from his scanner display. When Ronaldo flicked on the flat screen display to a star field filled with Klingon attack squadrons, Amy half expected Sulu to set the coordinates and go into warp speed.
“Wow, I love this setup.” Peter adjusted his glasses and gawked at the instrument panel.
“Please, make yourselves at home on the couch.” Ronaldo nudged Amy to the sectional sofa and pointed at a small refrigerator. “Help yourself to any drinks. Water, soda, iced coffee.”
She was thankful Peter was present to serve as a deterrent to any aggressive auditioning tactics. Ronaldo was too touchy-feely for her taste, although too metro to be truly threatening. The fact he had no hair on his legs made him look plastic and over civilized.
Peter fetched Amy a bottle of mineral water and sat next to her on the couch.
Ronaldo swiveled the commander’s chair and glanced at his watch. “Let’s make this quick. Give me the headshots and résumé.”
Peter handed him the folder, and they talked about Amy’s experience as if she weren’t present.
It
took all of her self-control to continue sipping the water and acting like she didn’t mind being a nonentity.
After Ronaldo was satisfied with her credentials and degree, he got up from the commander’s chair and perched himself on the arm of the couch, facing her. “Peter will go over the job requirements. You’ll be paid per race you appear at. The races are two weeks apart and held at racetracks around the world. The next one starts in a week in the Netherlands. A private jet will pick you up here in Los Angeles and fly you to location. All your travel and lodging expenses are covered, as well as meals and spending cash. Any questions?”
Amy deferred to Peter, her supposed agent, but he motioned her direction. Of course she had questions. Lots of them. Wasn’t Peter supposed to clear all of this up if he was going to take his agent’s cut?
Amy wet her throat with another sip of mineral water. “For starters, what’s my role?”
Ronaldo threw his head back and laughed, his abdominals shaking. “Your agent didn’t tell you? It’s a reality show. You’re supposed to romance a racer. Change his bad boy ways from partying, strip clubs, and playmates to devoted boyfriend.”
“Are you the racer?”
“Do you want me to be?” Ronaldo scratched the tip of his nose. “Let’s say it’s me. Your role is to be my girlfriend.”
“That’s it? I don’t see the concept. What’s the hook?”
“You have to set up a romantic mood for me at every city I’m racing in and allow my film crews to record our dates.”
“Dates? That’s it?”
“You have to win me over. Remember, I’m distracted by girls and parties. You’re supposed to win a commitment from me. That means playing the part. During the race, you’ll stay in the pit with all of the other wives and girlfriends. Remember to look interested because the cameras will be trained on you. After I race and greet you, take off my helmet and give me your sloppiest and wettest kiss.”
Amy held up her hand. “Whoa, wait. I have to get physical?”
Ronaldo’s left eyebrow hooked up. “You’re an actress, aren’t you? I’m sure you’ve kissed on stage before.”
Roaring Hot! (Contemporary Romance): A Billionaire Biker Romance Page 2
