Date With a Diva

by Joanne Rock

  Take Nico for example.

  Sneaking a glance sideways as the director gave last-minute instructions to Rosaria and Bram, Lainie’s gaze lingered on the strong lines of Nico’s face. Square, stubborn-as-hell jaw. High cheekbones. Crooked nose that reminded her he wasn’t afraid to fight for what he wanted.

  She admired him. Beyond the fact that she wanted desperately to jump his bones, she had to admit that she respected who he was—the kind of guy who looked out for his sister, the kind of guy who put family first.

  The nervous flutter rippled through her again, making her think she’d be better off concentrating on the more simple, obvious appeal of the man. The white-hot sensual experience he could provide.

  A feat which wouldn’t be too difficult given that the director was calling for quiet on the set and the actors were taking their positions. She inched closer to him, shamelessly employing her body in her quest to seduce Nico.

  “You’re not fighting fair,” he whispered in her ear as the director’s slate snapped shut.

  Her heart picked up speed at his proximity, his male warmth seeping through her dress to heat her skin beneath. Stretching up on her toes, she whispered back.

  “So send me to the penalty box. You’re welcome to exact your revenge anytime now.”

  Nico fought for his next breath of air as Lainie settled against him to watch the action unfurling for the camera. Leaving him hot and horny and frustrated. And very ready to take that revenge, curse the woman.

  Sensual scenarios rolled through his mind while Bram and Rosaria danced around the suite in a slow swirl. Nico had missed the first few lines, but he didn’t miss Bram’s hand squeezing the actress’s ass just the way Nico wanted to squeeze Lainie. And Nico caught the dark shadows in the actor’s gaze that probably looked like intensity to another observer, but which Nico knew damn well was anger and frustration and a fervent wish to be with another woman.

  Damn but that sucked.

  Nico, in the meantime, had exactly the woman he wanted in his arms right now. Would he be so stupid as to turn a blind eye to what he really wanted? To let this woman slip away when he was dying for her?

  His gaze locked on the couple’s joined bodies, he knew he’d never survive this kind of torment with his honorable intentions intact. He wondered why he even bothered when fate was pounding on his door with both hands. All this time he’d been telling himself that he couldn’t afford to become emotionally entangled with a woman he already cared about, but seeing the hot frustration etched in Bram Hawthorne’s expression made Nico realize he’d be an idiot if he didn’t act on what he really wanted.

  Lainie.

  “I call it a poor substitute for what we’d both rather be doing.” Rosaria’s throaty voice echoed Nico’s thoughts.

  “Never let it be said I cheated you out of what you really wanted.” Bram halted their dance altogether, his hand moving possessively up the heroine’s arms, over her shoulders.

  Nico saw his own hands on Lainie. His fingers dipping beneath the fabric of her neckline to trace her breastbone down to the valley between her sweetly sloped breasts. To plunder under the cups of her bra and hold those soft mounds in his hands.

  Just the way the hero was touching the heroine right now.

  Nico would have grabbed Lainie and bolted if it wouldn’t have disrupted the filming. He’d been off his rocker to think he could stay away from her. Hell, this heat between them, this undeniable chemistry that blasted through his veins right now, was worth every risk.

  So what if he got his heart checked and slammed into the boards for all the world to see? Wouldn’t be the first time. Unlike her, he didn’t care so much about what other people thought.

  Wondering how he’d make it through the rest of the provocative vignette, he decided it wasn’t too soon to start exacting that sensual revenge Lainie had goaded him with. While Bram and Rosaria tore off one another’s clothes in a brand-new kind of dance, Nico closed the distance between him and Lainie, pressing up against her from behind.

  She stiffened for a moment, no doubt wary of the other guests taking in the performance. No one was that close to them, but Nico backed them up a few feet anyhow, shuffling them quietly to the back of the room so that he leaned against one wall.

  Her body relaxed into him now that their closest neighbors were several feet away and obviously watching the love scene with rapt attention. Nico’s gaze flicked to the set in time to see Rosaria jump up into Bram’s arms, her skirt riding high as her legs locked around his waist. They weren’t naked, but close. Her bra remained, the straps dangling. His shorts were still there, his pants on the floor.

  But Nico had his own love scene to initiate, and one devilish diva that needed a bit of undressing. He studied the long hemline of her skirt and the close-fitting top, pondering how to make his move.

  The zipper on the back of her beaded blouse called to him, urging his fingers closer as he leaned in to bury his face in the clean scent of her shampoo. Lowering the tab silently in the darkened room, he reached beneath the garment to find her skin hot to the touch. Did he do that to her?

  Sliding his thumb beneath the clasp of her barely-there bra, he savored the soft feel of her before slowly unhooking the frothy piece of lingerie. Did he hear her swift intake of breath, or had it been Rosaria who was now backed up to the closet door? Bram leaned into her on the set, the couple making all the right motions for believable, against-the-wall sex.

  The door loomed only a few feet away from where he and Lainie stood. Only that meager space kept him from taking her upstairs, or anywhere else private for that matter. He reached deeper into her blouse, his blood pounding in his head so hard he couldn’t hear himself think.

  Not that he was doing much thinking right now.

  Skimming his hands around her ribs to the front, he cupped her full softness, savored the silken weight of her breasts. Lainie arched back into him ever so slightly, her sweet ass wriggling against him as if to remind him he wasn’t the only one who could cause sensual torment here.

  Wasn’t that the truth? He took a deep breath in the hope of maintaining some oxygen somewhere in his body while he grazed the hardened tips of her nipples.

  Biting back a groan, he was just reaching for her zipper again, to expose a little more Lainie to his gaze when the director shouted.

  “Cut!”

  Disappointment halted him for only a second and then, realizing he’d gotten exactly what he wanted, Nico hustled Lainie in front of him and got the hell out of there.

  13

  DAISY DECIDED SHE’D gladly start a Lainie Reynolds fan club if it meant she could get the hell out of jail. The lawyer Lainie recommended had given her some great advice, but hadn’t been able to waive bail. Now, staring at the odd assortment of down-on-their-luck females sharing her temporary cell, Daisy heard the biggest wake-up call of her entire life.

  Time to grow up, little girl. No more blaming anybody but herself for her problems. And that included Lainie, her mom, her dad—everybody. It was her own damn fault she was in here right now instead of wrapped in Bram’s incredible arms, absorbing the warmth and sincerity in his gorgeous silvery gaze.

  A gaze that lingered on her this very minute.

  “Bram?” She shook herself, wondering if the stale pot smoke wafting off the woman sitting next to her had the power to make her hallucinate. Because there was no way a rising movie star would bother with her after what she’d done.

  He put his fingers to his lips to hush her while a female prison guard yanked open the door of the holding cell. Freeing her.

  Her heart swelled with emotions even though she didn’t deserve to be walking out of jail. Into his open arms.

  That didn’t stop her from stealing the strength of his hug for just a few moments, however. She buried her face in the warmth of his cotton T-shirt, savoring the male smell of him that had become familiar so fast.

  He held her, stroked his fingers through her hair.

  “C
ome on.” He nudged her forward, away from the smelly cell where she’d been sitting in close confines with too many drunk and sweaty bodies for hours. “I’m bailing you out.”

  “No. I can’t let you do this.” She forced herself to step back before she changed her mind, before she could cave in to the selfish part of her that wanted nothing more than to follow him out of here and away from the garish fluorescent lighting. “I can’t let you spend a single cent on me, Bram. I’m guilty.”

  There. She’d said it. Admitted her inner bitch was alive and well and writing mean-spirited “to do” lists.

  Knowing she’d find condemnation in Bram’s eyes, she was surprised to find mild amusement.

  “You did what? Vented a little frustration on paper? Since when was that a crime?” He gave her another nudge away from the jail cell full of hookers, gang members and drug dealers who kept their eyes on Daisy and Bram.

  Well, mostly Bram.

  She stood her ground. “I mean it. You can’t spend hard-earned money to spring me. I wrote those notes, Bram.”

  “Hard earned? Honey, I spit out the words someone else writes and take home a ridiculously fat paycheck because I inherited a few good genes from my folks. Some frigging hard work.” He tugged her hand harder this time, hauling her with him away from the jail cell.

  “You’re out of here.”

  “I’ll pay you back. I promise.” Her voice broke at the thought of him helping her out this way. How could he trust her when he barely knew her? Daisy followed him down a narrow hallway and through a steel-reinforced door only because the lady prison guard glared at them as if she’d personally beat them both with her nightstick if they didn’t hurry up. “And please don’t downplay your talent. You bring entertainment to people who need escape. What you do is important, even if you don’t realize it.”

  He grumbled something unintelligible and hurried her through the police station.

  “Besides, the fact that you could afford to spring me doesn’t take away the fact that I made this mess myself because I was being immature and mean-spirited to write a bunch of stupid stuff about Lainie.” She dodged a pair of cops escorting an old man wearing a trench coat that had been duct-taped shut. “I can’t let you take responsibility for me when I’m the one who screwed up.”

  Bram stopped beside a row of abandoned industrial desks that were probably busy during the day. “Fine. Then how about this—I need you with me tonight. And as a spoiled, selfish product of Hollywood culture, I’m going to get what I want. If you don’t want to be with me, that’s your prerogative. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you go back in that jail cell tonight because the fact of the matter is—I don’t want you there.”

  The dark heat in his gaze caught her by surprise. As did the anger. The raw emotion.

  She’d been so caught up in her own drama, maybe she’d missed out on some of his, because she had no clue where any of this was coming from. Nodding shortly, she allowed him to lead her out of the police station and into a quiet parking lot populated only by a few squad cars and Bram’s Mercedes.

  “Very well then. Thank you. And I appreciate the break.” Skirting around a street lamp, she decided to be low-key until she could get a handle on what was up with the man who’d impressed her as such a nice, even-tempered guy the past few days.

  “You’re welcome.” He pulled open the passenger door to the sleek SL55 and waved her inside. “I don’t mean to be an obnoxious jerk about this, but it sucked doing my scene tonight without you there. Lainie told me if I followed you to the police station it would only ensure your presence on the front page of the paper tomorrow. Even though I knew she was right, I hated staying away from you when all I wanted to do was make sure nobody hurt you.” His silvery eyes turned steely as he stared down at her. “Nobody hurt you, did they?”

  Surprised by a level of fierceness she hadn’t expected, she simply shook her head.

  “Good.” He hustled her into the car before anyone noticed them, then jogged around to the driver’s side door to settle into the rich leather interior beside her.

  “You’ll think I’m a nutcase, but I felt a connection between us last night that—aw, hell. I don’t know. You and me together, it just worked.”

  She knew. Of course she knew. As Bram put the car in drive and pulled out of the parking lot, she just couldn’t bring herself to believe he felt the same way. Since when did a movie star feel connected to her, the high-school dropout with a reputation for being every bit as fast as Bram’s sporty car.

  “I thought it worked, too, but I was afraid it was only me who felt the earth move and all that.” She reached a tentative hand across the plush leather console that divided them, the sleek barrier reminding her she was a trespasser in his fast-track, glitzy world.

  What could she ever offer a guy like Bram?

  On the other side of the console, Bram resisted the urge to close his eyes and soak up the gentle warmth of Daisy’s palm against his cheek.

  “You weren’t the only one.” His words seemed too stark, too barren for what she deserved to hear. Why hadn’t he paid better attention when the heroes he played were professing undying love for their women?

  All right, so it was too soon for undying love. Maybe undying optimism. A certainty that if they worked at this, they could find something real and lasting. Something that wasn’t a synthetic Hollywood gloss-over. He didn’t want this to end when he had to leave South Beach. He wanted Daisy with him, keeping him balanced.

  Too bad she was already retreating to her side of the car. She still wore his sweats and the UCLA T-shirt he’d given her after they’d made love last night. The clothes and the big black leather seat emphasized her petite stature, her delicate features.

  “That’s all the more reason why I don’t want you to get caught up in the mess I’ve made of things.” She flicked a strand of bright blond hair from her eyes.

  “You’re too nice to be mixed up with a girl who’s got a past and may soon be acquiring a rap sheet. You’ve got a reputation to protect and a growing box-office value to consider. For all you know, I could be a gold digger in addition to being a vindictive note writer.”

  Bram swerved the Mercedes out of traffic and screeched to a halt at the end of MacArthur Causeway. “Are you a gold digger?”

  “It just so happens that I’m not, although I’d be lying if I didn’t admit the stardom attracted me almost as much as the rest of you at first. But I’ve learned a few things about myself—and you—since then. And now I can tell you, in all good conscience, that all I’m really interested in is you. But how can you take my word for it?”

  Taking deep breaths, he processed her words and hoped like hell she meant them.

  “Easily. Because I suck at managing money and I’ve got less than nothing to my name.” He would just come clean here and now and get it over with since she seemed so hell-bent to show him all her own flaws tonight. “Don’t think for a minute you’ve got the lock on secrets, sweetheart, because you don’t know me nearly as well as you think you do.”

  She raised a blond eyebrow and leaned closer like a coconspirator.

  “No money?” She glanced around the interior of the luxury car. “Pretty nice toy for a man with nothing to his name.”

  “A gift that I need to sell before I put too many miles on it. Something I should have done the moment it was delivered, but I’ve been dragging my feet. The producer of Diva’s Last Dance gave it to me as a sort of signing bonus.” He clicked the car ignition into silence and whipped off his seat belt so he could face her. He prayed his admission didn’t send her running, but his gut told him she wouldn’t be that kind of girl.

  “The only reason I’m playing the movie-star thing to the hilt is because my sister—Eileen—has some kind of undiagnosed degenerative nerve disease that’s eating away at her every day. She’s got no insurance, no nothing except for me, and I promised her that would be enough to make at least some sort of difference in her quality of
life.”

  Traffic zipped by them as they sat at the end of the causeway, the ocean shimmering in the moonlight and reflected the glow of street lamps just beyond the guardrails.

  He swallowed past the dry patch in his throat. Helping his sister was the right thing to do. The only thing to do. But he would never expect anyone to share that kind of life with him—forsaking the monetary benefits of his career so that his sister might have a few more years. Months. Days.

  “I’m sorry about your sister.” She reached across the car to squeeze his hand and he found he couldn’t let go. “But I’m glad she has you to help take care of her.” She stroked her fingers across the back of his knuckles, her gentle touch soothing old hurts inside him. “You really don’t have any money?”

  “I really don’t have jack shit.” He tried to gauge what was going on behind those wide blue eyes of hers. He could practically see the wheels turning in her head before she nodded slowly.

  “That could actually be good.”

  “No, that actually sucks. When the rest of L.A. heads to Aspen for Christmas every winter, I’m cooking another bag of rice for dinner in a fourth-floor walk-up. But I’m happy as hell when I talk to my family and hear that Eileen is resting a little easier because she underwent a new surgery.”

  “I’m sorry.” She inched closer to him in the dark confines of the car, her expression lit by the electronic glow of the digital dashboard. “I didn’t mean to imply it was great you had no money. And it makes me all the more determined to pay back every cent of that bail money. I only meant that I can see a way to help, if you ever wanted a hand. Thanks to my champagne tastes and generic-brand beer budget, it just so happens I know how to squeeze a nickel until it screams.”

  He didn’t want to squelch that hopeful light in her eyes, but he couldn’t help but think managing his money and his sister’s bills was a far cry from balancing a personal budget. Still, she must have seen a hint of his skepticism since her shoulders straightened.