by Jane Porter
But those personal heartbreaks were also one of the reasons she’d left Montana. Having grown up in the shadow of five older brothers, Alexandra needed space. Independence. She needed to be her own person and have control over her life.
Playing Wolf Kerrick’s new love interest would strip her identity as well as her control.
She’d be followed, photographed, harassed.
“I’ll make it worth your while,” Wolf said quietly, as if able to read her mind, or the emotions flickering over her face. “I’ve met with Daniel and your studio. They’re willing to offer you a significant promotion if you take the position. And when the assignment ends, you’ll be offered an A.D. position with Daniel.”
“Assistant director?” she repeated under her breath, dazed by the idea of really being involved in making pictures and not just taking coffee orders.
“Yes.”
For the first time since Wolf had presented her with the proposal, she was tempted to accept, she really was. To escape from photocopy hell and actually do something on a film … to leave the office behind and go on location … to be involved with real decision making versus how much liquid sugar was needed to properly sweeten the lighting technician’s doubleshot iced coffee …
But looking at Wolf, she knew her decision wasn’t quite so simple. Wolf was a man. An actor. A very popular actor as famous for his skills in the bedroom as his talent on-screen.
And maybe Wolf was notorious for bedding lots of women, but she couldn’t do that—wouldn’t do that. It’s not who she was.
But what if Wolf expected that?
She shot an uncertain glance up into his face. “Mr. Kerrick, I think you should know right now, up front, that I don’t do the casting-couch routine.” Her heart raced as she considered his hard features, his firm, sensual mouth. “I won’t do it. It’s not how I was raised.”
His lips curled up, a flicker of wry amusement touched his dark eyes before just as swiftly disappearing. “I’ve never needed to convince or pressure a woman into bed.”
“Yes, I know,” she said, pulse still pounding like mad. “But I wouldn’t want you to think that later I’ll do things—”
“Miss Shanahan, rest assured that there’s no risk of that. Forgive my bluntness, but you’re not my type.”
Her face flooded with heat even as her blood turned to ice. Oh, God. How humiliating. But she’d practically asked for that, hadn’t she?
Painfully embarrassed, Alexandra felt her insides curdle and cramp. Of course she wasn’t his type. Of course he wouldn’t want to take someone like her to bed. He could have any woman in the world, why would he want to be with her?
“I’m sorry,” she said, voice noticeably husky, “but I don’t think this is going to work. I’m not who or what you need.” She fumbled for her purse, finally finding it at her feet, next to her chair. “And I’m not about to try to change to please you or anyone else.”
She rose to escape, but Wolf reached out, caught her hand, kept her from fleeing.
“That’s where you’re wrong.” His deep voice, pitched low, vibrated inside her as his dark eyes, a glittering onyx, held her transfixed. “You’re exactly what I want and need.”
His words shook her, but it was his touch, that scalding press of skin on skin, that made her knees buckle. With his hand around her wrist, she felt electric, charged, different. “I know I’m no beauty queen, but there’s no reason for you to be cruel—”
His fingers tightened around her wrist. “Cruel? I’m paying you a compliment. I’ve picked you to play the role of my lover.” His voice deepened, betraying his Dublin roots. “I wouldn’t ask just anyone—”
“And I’m to be flattered by that?”
“Yes.”
She tugged at her hand, hating the ruthless edge in his voice, that raw, hard, male quality that made him want to dominate her and everything else in his world. “That’s where you’re mistaken.” Tears shimmered in her eyes. “Because I’m not flattered and I don’t take it as a compliment that you’ve chosen me to fill a role in your life. I’m not an accessory, Mr. Kerrick. Not for you, not for anyone!”
She stole a quick breath, noticed the diners around them watching in rabid interest. “People are staring,” she said softly, a faint catch in her voice. “Please release me and let me go.”
“I’ll release you, but I want you to sit down and finish this—”
“It is finished,” she flashed furiously.
“No, it’s not. Sit down. Now.” He exhaled. “Please.”
Alex slowly sank into her chair again, her purse falling limply to her lap.
Wolf leaned forward, his dark eyes never leaving hers. “Don’t let your pride get in the way, Miss Shanahan. Your boss told me you’re smart, ambitious. This is an opportunity to make a name for yourself.”
Her nausea had returned, stronger than before. “Make a name for myself as what? Your fake girlfriend?” She stared at him incredulously. “You think I should jump at your proposal, be flattered because I’m a plain-Jane girl and don’t get out much, is that it? And yes, I’m ambitious, but unfortunately not ambitious enough to date you. Not ambitious enough to pretend to be your girlfriend to get a promotion. I find it digusting that I’d gain industry status—respect—simply by being seen around town with you. That’s not the way life should work—”
“Maybe it’s not the way it should, but it’s the way it does.”
“And doesn’t that strike you as immoral? Wrong?”
“No. It’s practical.”
“Of course it would seem so to you. You’re the man that dates married women!” And with a violent jerk, she broke free and rose to rush from the table.
Fighting tears, Alexandra squeezed through the tables lining the terrace, wound her way down a pink painted hallway to the ladies’ room even as his words rang in her head.
Perfect for the job. Damage control. Publicity stunt. Pretend to date me. Practical.
The tears fell even before she’d managed to lock herself inside the bathroom stall.
This was exactly why her father hadn’t wanted her to come to California.
This was exactly what her brothers had predicted would happen.
They’d all said she was too young, too inexperienced to survive in a dog-eat-dog city like Los Angeles, and she’d been so determined to prove them wrong. So determined to make it on her own and do it right.
But playing Wolf Kerrick’s girlfriend would be far from right.
The tears trickled down her face, and she scrubbed them away with a furious fist.
He’d pay her to be seen with him.
He’d make sure she was compensated.
Alexandra’s throat squeezed closed. She felt as though she were gasping for air on the inside, fighting for calm and control.
And then it hit her. She didn’t have to go back to the table. She didn’t have to see Mr. Kerrick again or endure any more of his painful proposal.
She could just go. She could just leave and get her car and return to work.
It was as easy as that.
Calmer now, Alexandra exited the stall, rinsed off her face, patted her damp face and hands dry. The valet attendant had her car key. She had her purse with her. She’d just go now.
Alex left the bathroom but had only taken two steps when she froze, her body stiffening with horror.
Wolf Kerrick was waiting for her. And standing, he was even taller than she remembered.
She felt all her nerves tense, tighten. Even her heartbeat seemed to slow. “The men’s restroom is on the other side,” she said lowly.
“I know.”
“The bar is the other direction—”
“You know I’m waiting for you.”
Alexandra drew a quick, shallow breath. She was exhausted. Emotionally flattened. All her excitement, all her good feelings about meeting Wolf Kerrick were long gone. “There’s no point. There’s nothing more for either of us to say—”
“There’s plent
y. You can say yes.”
My God, he was arrogant and insensitive. “I don’t want to say yes.”
“Why not?”
She flinched at his curt tone. It was clear he was used to getting his way and didn’t like being thwarted. “I’d never sell myself—”
“This isn’t slavery. I’m offering you a salary.”
“And I want to make it in Hollywood my way.”
“And what is your way?” he taunted. “Making copies? Answering phones? Getting coffee?”
Alexandra’s cheeks flamed. “At least I have my self-respect!”
“You might respect yourself even more if you had a job that actually challenged you.”
“My goodness but you’re insufferable. You should fire your managers, Mr. Kerrick. They’ve got you believing your own PR, and that’s a huge mistake.”
He shocked her by bursting out laughing, eyes creasing with humor. “You really don’t like me, Miss Shanahan, do you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me.”
“Why?” she retorted fiercely, spinning to face him, hands balled at her sides. “Does everyone have to be a fan? Do you want everyone lining up for your autograph?”
Still smiling, his dark eyes raked her. “No.”
“Because I’d be lying if I said I liked you. Maybe once admired you, lined up to see your movies, but that was before I met you. Now I see who you really are and I don’t like you or your chauvinistic, condescending attitude.”
He jammed his hands into his trouser pockets, rocked back on his heels. “Your honesty’s surprisingly refreshing.”
“Were you ever nice?”
His lips pursed, black brows pulling as he mulled over her question. Reluctantly he shook his head. “No.” Then the corner of his mouth tugged into a sardonic smile. “But you don’t have to like me to date me.”
“That’s revolting.”
“Alexandra, if you’re not an actress and you don’t date actors and you can’t get yourself promoted out of the copy room at Paradise Pictures, why stay here in Hollywood? Why not just pack your bags and go home?”
She felt a pang inside her, the muscles around her heart tightening. She’d asked herself the very same question many times. “Because I still want to make pictures,” she said softly. “I hope to one day be more involved, hope I can somehow make a difference.”
He studied her a long moment, his expression closed, eyes hooded. “You can make a difference,” he said finally. “You can help make a picture—and save the jobs of dozens of people. We’re to start filming The Burning Shore in a little over a month’s time. Work with me. Let’s get the film into production.”
Alexandra bit down, pinched her lip between her teeth. She’d love to make a difference, do something positive, learn something new. She’d love to be challenged, too, but she didn’t trust Wolf. “You think we could generate positive press together?”
He’d never looked so somber. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here now.”
CHAPTER TWO
WOLF ACCOMPANIED Alexandra to the front of the hotel, where she’d left her car with the valet attendant.
Lush purple bougainvillea covered the hotel’s pink stucco entrance, and the fragrant blossoms of potted lemon and orange trees perfumed the air, but Wolf gave his surroundings scant attention.
Alexandra could feel the weight of Wolf’s inspection as they waited for her car to appear.
The problem wasn’t only the offer. And the issue wasn’t just her morals or her values. It was her lack of experience.
She didn’t know how to manage a man like Wolf Kerrick and couldn’t imagine how one would even date a man like him.
But they won’t be real dates, she reasoned. They’re pretend dates. It’s not as if you’ll really have to kiss him or touch him or be physically involved.
Heat washed through her at the very idea of getting physically close. She really did need more experience. “If you gave me some time,” she said after a moment, “allowed me a chance to think about your offer properly, I might say yes.” She looked up, met his gaze before quickly looking away. “But I don’t want to be pressured.”
She drew another deep breath, flexed her fingers to ease her tension. “And if I did agree, how would this work?”
If he felt any elation or sensed that he’d won, none of it showed on his face. “We’d draw up a contract, include a generous financial compensation, as it’s probable you’ll miss some workdays due to events and premieres, and then begin going places together to be seen.”
He made it sound so simple, she thought, and yet she wasn’t a glamour girl, the sort to be invited to fancy parties or industry premieres. No, she was the girl raised by her dad, grandpa and five older brothers. There hadn’t been a woman in the house, not since her mom died when Alexandra was five. Growing up, she was the original tomboy.
“And what makes you think people will believe you … and I … are together?” she asked, pushing thoughts of Montana and the Lazy L ranch from her mind. “I’m not your … usual choice in dates.”
“Lots of stars date makeup artists, casting directors, the like.”
She hesitated. “Some actors do, but not you.”
“You can’t believe everything you read in the tabloids.”
Maybe, she thought, and maybe not, but she’d seen the pictures of the women he dated. He liked starlets and models, topless dancers and magazine centerfolds, his taste typically running toward women with more cleavage than brains. And Alex didn’t even have to look down at her not-so-impressive chest to know her strength was not in her cup size.
Years ago, back in junior high school, she’d learned that there were only two avenues open for women: the one for pretty girls and the one for smart girls. Even in high school it had been one or the other—cheerleaders and beauty queens or bookworms and future librarians. Girls certainly couldn’t be both. And since Alexandra knew she wasn’t pom-pom-girl pretty, she’d decided then and there to be smart. Damn smart. “We both know I’m not pretty enough to be taken seriously as your new love interest.”
“You could be if you tried to do something with yourself,” Wolf answered with brutal candor. “Alexandra, you don’t even try.”
She bit down, not knowing where to look. “I don’t try because I know already what I am and who I am. And I don’t need makeup or fake hair or nails or a tan to make me something I’m not.”
“Which is what?” he asked quietly.
“A bimbo. I’m not going to be a bimbo. I want to be respected. Taken seriously. And if I change myself—”
“You’re changing your hairstyle, not your soul.”
Her head jerked up.
“You’re smart,” he added. “Serious. And I’m sorry, but that eliminates the bimbo category for you.”
She should have been flattered. Instead his words merely left her even more flustered.
Every time he looked at her she felt sparks on the inside, little bits of hot fire flaring here and there. It was like being a human sparkler, only worse because the heat didn’t die.
“I just don’t want to be laughed at,” she said after a moment. “People can be unkind. I know the tabloids are famous for publishing unflattering photos and pointing out celebrities’ flaws.”
“Before we go public, you’ll meet with stylists, receive wardrobe consultation. I have a team of professionals who will help ease you into the transition.”
Alexandra was intrigued despite herself. “When would that happen?”
“As soon as you signed the contract.”
Alexandra tried to imagine being groomed by top Hollywood stylists but couldn’t. She might have lost twenty pounds since moving from Montana to California, but she still thought of herself as the sturdy country girl who’d worn cowboy boots before high heels. “A beautiful starlet would be far easier to introduce to the public,” she said in a small voice.
&nb
sp; “I’m not interested in squiring around a young actress desperate to make a name for herself—”
“But in real life—”
“This is real life, and I’m quite aware that I’m responsible for dozens of people’s jobs. I just want to get The Burning Shore made and I want to do it without emotional complications.”
She fell silent, digesting this. “You don’t want anyone to fall in love with you.”
His dark eyes creased, his mouth compressed. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Thankfully her practical little blue Ford Escort appeared that moment in the famous hotel drive.
The uniformed valet climbed from the driver’s seat and held the door for her.
Wolf walked her to the car. Alexandra slid behind the steering wheel. “I’ll call you,” she said.
“You’ve my number?”
She stared up into his dark eyes, seeing the hard, beautiful lines of his face, and her panic grew. No one had a face like Wolf. No one had his charisma either.
It’d be suicide to do this, she thought, absolute disaster—if not for him, then for her. She wasn’t as sophisticated as he was, nor did she have his experience.
“I still have the card Daniel gave me. He wrote your cell number on the back.”
Smiling faintly, Wolf closed her door and stepped away from the car. “Take your time, think about your options and call me when you’re ready.”
She hesitated and then leaned through the open window. “You think I’m going to say yes, don’t you?”
His faint smile grew. “I know you will.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re a smart girl and you’ll soon realize this is the opportunity of a lifetime.”
The opportunity of a lifetime, she repeated over and over driving home, her hands shaking on the steering wheel and her insides doing nonstop flips.
The opportunity of a lifetime, she repeated yet again as she parked her car in the tiny garage adjacent to her California bungalow, one of the tiny nondescript row houses built in Culver City during the forties and fifties.
Her house was small, and until recently she’d shared it with another girl. But since the girl had a job transfer to Boston, Alexandra was now covering the rent by herself and it was tight. She’d considered getting another housemate but was so enjoying having the space all to herself that she hadn’t gotten anybody yet.
