by Joanne Rock
“You’re hardly a journalist. Your sources aren’t protected.”
“If you become a client, you will appreciate our commitment to discretion at Sphere.”
“I won’t if it violates my privacy.”
“Mr. Fraser—”
“Trey,” he corrected.
“Trey,” she relented. “Anything we discover in our research goes no further than the agent who makes a pitch for your business. In this case, Fawn.”
He leaned forward in his seat, determined to impress upon her how much he had riding on this business plan remaining confidential.
“Based on a professional move my father made yesterday, I have to question if the information has already spread further than that.” He stared into her eyes and willed her to understand. “If there is a leak among the few people who still work for me, I need to know.”
She peered down at the floor, her lips twisted in indecision. He pounced on that moment of hesitation.
“Courtney— Can I call you Courtney?”
At her brief nod, he continued.
“My father is as ruthless a businessman as you’ll ever meet. Sure, he puts on a charming public facade in this town, but he’s got a shark mentality when he sees blood in the water, and right now, he sees mine.”
“Wow.” She gave a lopsided smile, their knees so close they were almost touching. “I guess I’m not the only one with a parent who doesn’t believe in coddling.”
“You could say that.” He returned her smile and felt strangely honored to know something personal about her. She didn’t strike him as the kind of woman who would be easy to get to know. “I would have been wise to choose a profession far outside of Hollywood, but I ended up really enjoying the movie business.”
She watched him with cool gray eyes, but a small tic started at the blue vein in her temple. He could see her heart beat in a quick rhythm that matched his own.
“You make a convincing case, Trey.” Her voice hit a throaty note that made him think of long nights rolling around in bed.
His bed. Her bed. Didn’t matter.
Maybe he would only be wasting his time to try and find out the whereabouts of Natalie Night. Maybe he should be seeking out Courtney Masterson’s adventurous side instead.
“I’m willing to put all my persuasive skills to work.” He wanted to drag her closer, lift her out of the wingback and into his lap. “It’s that important to me.”
* * *
I NEEDED TO take deep breaths.
Really, really deep breaths.
Because if I didn’t get some air soon, I would melt at Trey Fraser’s feet for the second time in twenty-four hours. And while it was one thing for dancer Natalie Night to flirt brazenly with this well-known Hollywood insider, it wouldn’t be a possibility for me. At. All.
“That’s not necessary,” I informed Trey. “No more persuasion needed.”
Although I might require mouth-to-mouth resuscitation if Trey got any closer in his Italian silk suit with his tanned, oh-so-capable-looking hands resting on his knees. I definitely felt a fainting spell coming on.
Trey equaled too much of a good thing for a girl with the most modest of romantic aspirations. Right then, I would have settled for getting him out of my office before he discovered my real identity. From my seat by the window I saw a few pieces of damning evidence that could betray me if he noticed them. One was a VIP pass from Backstage that I’d kept like a freaking trophy to remember my triumph last night. It wasn’t super visible, but stuck out of my purse near my chair.
I’d also kept a white feather that was currently draped over my desk blotter—front and center. Yes, I was truly an idiot.
“Really? You’ll tell me where you found the information?” He straightened and I wondered if he employed seduction as a coercive technique very often. Just the mere thought of it was enough to make me concede whatever he wanted.
Besides, the sooner he left Sphere, the better.
“Well.” I licked my lips because my mouth had turned dry. Amazingly, I hadn’t stuttered, though. Somehow, I’d maintained my composure and my words flowed with only little halts in between. “I actually farm out the most rudimentary of research, so I didn’t personally unearth the news that you may expand your talents into your own film company.”
His hands tightened and his mouth drew into a flat line.
“So I need to convince someone else to talk.”
“No.” I wouldn’t part with the person’s name or she’d never help me with my profiles again. “I’m familiar with her methods and I can guarantee that news like this came from unsecured cyber data online.”
Trey sprang out of his chair. “You paid someone to hack my computer?”
“Of course not.” I couldn’t help a sigh. Sadly, most people were unaware how vulnerable their data was when they stored it online. “You probably have outdated internet storage. I happen to know she saw your business plan in a visual presentation piece that came up in a routine search.”
“Routine?” He started pacing around my office, running a hand through his hair. “You call invasion of privacy routine?”
“Our searches are aggressive, but never unethical.” I firmly believed this or I wouldn’t have patronized the research company. “You can’t expect us not to look for clues to a client’s business online. It’s like you’re posting information on a public bulletin board and then asking people not to look.”
Sort of like me putting a stupid white feather on my desk and hoping against hope that Trey wouldn’t see it. But who would have thought he’d show up at Sphere today, asking for me of all people?
He stopped beside my desk, so close to the feather, he could almost touch it. I tried to maintain eye contact and not give away the clue to Natalie Night’s real identity. But it was impossible not to look at the elephant in the room.
Nervous sweat broke out along my forehead, and although my hair covered it, I wondered if my cheeks were also bright red. Just thinking about it made me flush more.
“I see.” His fingers grazed my desk, resting lightly beside a photo of my home after I fixed it up. “Perhaps you could tell me how to secure the information better in the future? I’d like to get rid of all traces of any business plans.”
His beautiful, dark eyes met mine, and I got lost for a minute. Trey was unbelievably handsome. He had shades of the whole Latin-lover thing going on, but he also had a warm attentiveness about him that would flatter any woman. Geesh, to him I was just a random research accountant who had come in contact with his world and he was making me feel like the center of his undivided attention. It was a heady thing.
“Courtney?” he prompted.
“Um.” I tried to stop thinking about the washboard abs Fawn promised he had, but I’d been secretly eyeing his midsection, looking for traces of those muscles in the gap of his unbuttoned jacket. “I’m not really the best person to advise someone on digital security.”
“I’m sure you know enough that you wouldn’t make the same mistakes I have.” He didn’t seem dissuaded in the least.
And then it happened.
Trey looked down at my desk. His eyes landed on the feather.
I’m pretty sure an audible gasp escaped my lips because he looked over to me abruptly.
“I-in that case—” I stammered at first, so I rushed my speech to put the words out there before I could bungle them more. “I’d be happy to give you some tips on safeguarding your information online. I’ll send you my notes at the end of the day.”
He still stared at the feather. Oh, crap.
I stood, hoping it would signal the end of the meeting so we could go our own ways. Instead, he picked up the sleek white quill and gave me a long look.
My heart raced. I was dead if he recognized me. Memories of twining myself around the pole last night came roaring back in vivid detail. I’d danced for him. No one else. How on earth could I expect him not to know it was me?
“Courtney.” His attention returned
to the feather. He smoothed the soft fibers between his thumb and forefinger, a slow, deliberate touch.
Intended to taunt me with a dangerous knowledge he could now hang over my head?
Or was that careful masculine attention designed to remind me how seductively persuasive he could be? I didn’t know whether to be scared or...excited. Right then, I was caught in a frenzied place somewhere in the middle. I couldn’t catch my breath. My mouth went so dry that speaking was no longer an option.
“Mmm?” I stuffed my hands in my blazer pockets before I made a mad grab for him.
“Would you consider meeting with me privately?”
I looked around my office, all too aware of the closed door.
“I mean,” he clarified, “would you be able to meet with me outside of Sphere?”
“I’m not a client rep. Actually, I don’t usually meet with clients.” The suspense was killing me. If he knew my secret alias, why didn’t he just say so? Why not simply run to my boss and put me out of my misery?
“Then I appreciate you seeing me outside of work.” He waved the feather, almost like it was a teeter-totter, between two fingers. Then he set it down. “Thank you.”
Was he thanking me for seeing him last night at the club? Or was he assuming I would agree to the meeting he’d just requested?
His expression gave away nothing.
But no matter that there was a fifty percent chance he’d recognized me and could blackmail me forever, he was still the most compelling man I’d ever laid eyes on. Furthermore, he’d noticed me yesterday, even before I dressed up in showgirl clothes to take Natalie’s place at Backstage. I couldn’t forget the way he’d invited me into the conference room, his eyes gazing into mine as if I was an attractive woman and not just a Sphere employee.
“I suppose I could find time during a lunch break.” I would keep this professional. Expense the company. There was nothing in my contract that said I couldn’t bring in new business. If anything, there were financial incentives to do just that.
“Today?” he prompted. “I’ve got several things I’d like to discuss with you.”
Such as? I wanted to shout, my nerves stretched to the breaking point. But if what he wanted to say was in any way related to last night’s moonlighting, it would be better to meet outside the office. Maybe I could convince him to keep my secret.
If nothing else, I could indulge in the heated attraction I missed out on the night before when I gave him the slip. It only seemed fair to have that chance back if I was going to lose my job for the sake of one mistake.
“I’ve got a lunch meeting in-house today.” I had to step closer to him in order to peer down at the weekly calendar open on my desktop. “How about tomorrow?”
I felt incredibly aware of him standing next to me, a little closer than was strictly professional. My thighs shifted beneath my skirt in an effort to quell the sudden heat, but that only intensified the feeling.
“How about tonight?” he pressed, lowering his voice so that he spoke in close proximity to my ear.
A sweet shiver swept through me. It was all I could do not to close my eyes and tilt my head back to grant him full domain over my neck. Shoulder. Anything else he wanted.
“A lunch meeting would probably be more appropriate.” I sounded like a prude, but I clung to the hope that he didn’t recognize me. That my guilty conscience played tricks on me and saw danger where there wasn’t any.
He nodded but still didn’t step back. The feather remained on the desk in the narrow space between us.
“If you insist. Can I pick you up at noon tomorrow?”
Bad idea. This would only lead to trouble. Yet just like the previous night, I found I couldn’t refuse him.
“S-sure.” I swallowed hard. “I hope I have enough to offer to make it worth your while.”
It was the sentiment of an insecure woman and one that I shouldn’t have spoken aloud. I knew better than to undercut myself.
“More than enough.” He smiled like the big, bad wolf might have done after polishing off grandma. “See you then, Courtney.”
He turned on the heel of one polished leather loafer and I thought I might be able to take a deep breath again. But he paused by my bookshelves to pick up the silver-framed photo that I’d noticed him eyeing from across the room earlier.
It was that picture taken at our receptionist’s bachelorette party last year—the party that had first introduced me to pole dancing. I wondered why he wanted a closer look.
He set it down and departed before I could ask. When I took another peek at it, however, I got a damned good idea.
The dancing pole wasn’t all that obvious in the background since it could be mistaken for a ceiling support or the base of a tall floor lamp. Yet there could be no mistaking the logo on the back wall of the dance studio. If you looked close enough, you could see the name Naughty by Night painted on the brick.
My heart lodged in my throat as I wondered what he thought when he’d looked at that.
Did he know my secret?
5
THE NEXT MORNING, Trey wandered across the grounds of the Spanish-style villa where he’d spent his childhood whenever one of his parents wasn’t carting him around Europe or New York for their careers. He had a question for his father, so he’d come to the source. Not that he was looking forward to their meeting.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Trey’s father greeted him outside the converted art studio on the back lot of the elder Fraser’s expansive Malibu beach property.
A big, robust man in his seventies, Thomas Fraser II had a grizzled beard and a shock of thick white hair that currently stood up in all directions. Behind him, sculptures in clay and marble in various stages of creation crowded the tile floor. In addition to being a famous producer, the older man was a sculptor in his spare time. Personally, Trey had always thought his father might have ADD, since he could never sit still for more than a minute at a time and he always needed something new to hold his attention. He was a creative genius in a lot of ways, but his follow-through sucked. Trey had hoped when they first went into business together that their opposing styles could balance each other out. He had overlooked the fact that his father also liked to have his own way at all times.
“Hello to you, too.” Trey stepped past his father into the open-air ground floor of the studio, where a long panel of windows slid aside to allow in breezes off the Pacific. When he was a kid, the art studio had been the pool house. “And believe me, I wouldn’t be here if I thought you’d give me a straight answer over the phone.”
Better to see his father’s face in person. That way he could distinguish fact from fiction when he questioned him about his latest deal. Trey wouldn’t have risked a confrontation if he didn’t need the truth. Courtney’s research had given him a lot to think about.
“Bah,” his father grumbled, turning his back on Trey to wash his hands in a utility sink against one wall. “As if you’re entitled to straight answers. What right do you have to question me about my business anyway?”
“Who said it was a business concern, Pop?”
Trey ran his hand along the graceful lines of an unfinished marble horse. The piece was a favorite of Trey’s, originally intended as a tribute to his mother, but that romantic notion was quashed when his dad took up with someone else. Trey’s actress mom hadn’t spent much time with her three sons when they were young, but she had taken them to the Tuscan countryside every summer to stay with their maternal grandparents, a welcome respite from their self-involved father. Damien and Lucien, his younger brothers, had moved out of the L.A. area as soon as they turned eighteen, ready to put some space between themselves and their overbearing dad.
“Since when do you have any concerns but work-related ones?” His dad yanked a linen towel off a rack and gave him a sharp look as he dried his hands.
Trey wandered over to a sculpture of a woman’s torso, the high, taut breasts directly at the viewer’s eye level, thanks to a
raised pedestal. The arched spine and flared hips made him think of Courtney.
And Natalie. “Since I learned I need to watch my back twice as much when I do business with family.”
“Nonsense.” His father made a dismissive gesture. “Your problem is that you haven’t had a personal life since Heather. That’s why you’re too intense. A man needs a woman.”
Trey refused to discuss his romantic entanglement with the only woman he’d ever fallen hard for. A woman who been more romanced by the idea of being married to a Fraser than the reality of loving Trey.
His dad might be a pain in the ass, but he had personal magnetism to spare. The old man’s shoes were damn big to fill and Trey sometimes wished he hadn’t put himself in the same arena as his father.
“You certainly haven’t deprived yourself of women,” Trey observed lightly, anxious to get off the subject.
Ignoring the comment, Thomas walked to a bar off to one side of the room and took out a heavy crystal decanter.
“Drink?” he asked, filling a glass with amber liquid.
With his father, there was no telling if it was the best Scotch or a new dandelion wine recipe he’d whipped up in the same damn utility sink where he washed his stone-cutting tools. His father liked to think of himself as a Renaissance man, but his skills as a vintner were sketchy at best.
“No.” Trey moved toward a tall chair near a pub table in the middle of the room and took a seat. “This isn’t a social call.”
He needed to see his father’s expression when he asked him about the film rights he’d obtained to a story suspiciously similar to the one Trey had tried to make while working for his dad’s company. He needed to understand the guy’s intentions. Sure, his dad had always been ridiculously competitive, especially with Trey. But would he really make a film just to spite his son? Trey felt as if he was missing something and he hoped that this face-to-face time would help him figure out why his father had moved to a new level of aggression in the ongoing family war for Hollywood fame.
