LOVERS & LIARS
Hollywood Hearts 6
Jean C. Joachim
Sensual Romance
Secret Cravings Publishing
www.secretcravingspublishing.com
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A Secret Cravings Publishing Book
Sensual Romance
Lovers & Liars
Copyright © 2013 Jean C. Joachim
E-book ISBN: 978-1-61885-957-0
First E-book Publication: November 2013
Cover design by Dawné Dominique
Edited by Tabitha Bower
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Dedication
To my readers, you keep me writing.
Thank you: Larry Joachim for legal advice, Marilyn Lee, JJ’s Book Buddies, Kathleen Ball, the Tuesday Tales writers, Tabitha Bower, my editor and Sandy Sullivan, my publisher.
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LOVERS & LIARS
Hollywood Hearts 6
Jean C. Joachim
Copyright © 2013
Chapter One
Erica checked her lip gloss in the rearview mirror and patted the bun that camouflaged her sexy, thick, blonde hair. How to avoid passes from Mr. Gunther Quill, seducer producer, my new boss? Dress like a man.
She changed her appearance to conceal her curvy body and stunning blonde locks. The white shirt from the thrift store was two sizes too big, hiding her breasts. No cleavage. Look dowdy. Is that even a word? She was swimming in the severe, man-tailored, navy blue jacket of her second-hand suit. I look like a prison matron. A pair of fake glasses added to the effect, though nothing could disguise her large, luminous, sky-blue eyes. Some people never look beyond the eyeglasses. Hope he’s one of them.
For her new job, Erica was being forced to live with one of the biggest lies of her life, and she was damned uncomfortable about it. Amy, her roommate and Quill’s former assistant, had convinced Erica to lie on her resume, claiming she had graduated from an Ivy League college. In the interview, Erica had convinced Gunther that she had no interest in acting, even though a career as an actress was her heart’s desire, and she had talent.
He was adamant about not hiring someone who would use him as a stepping stone. Which is exactly what I plan to do. She remembered Amy quoting him—‘I’m not paying someone to use my contacts to build their career. I’m paying them to be my assistant. That’s all!’
Amy had convinced Erica that Quill was a bad guy, a mean slave driver who deserved to be duped. Erica had no cash, no connections, and no way to get her foot in the door. Until now.
Lying wasn’t her style. Her late mother had often said her daughter was too truthful for her own good. But her inability to find work had made her desperate. Amy was moving out soon. Erica had to earn money fast or be thrown out on the street. Gunther Quill was her only chance. When she got the job, humiliation and shame had filled her heart, along with relief. Thank God Mom isn’t here to see this.
Amy gloated over her plan to trick Quill, saying Erica could pull it off because she was such a good actress. But on her first day, the butterflies in her stomach felt more like snakes, and her underarms grew damp. What’s the difference between acting and lying? Acting is lying on the stage, right? Then this is just lying?
Unlike a little white lie about liking a friend’s ugly new dress, this was big time lying that could have serious consequ
ences. What if he catches on? I’m fired. If I lose this job... Erica couldn’t bear to think about what might happen. Maybe if I work really hard, I can keep the job. I just need one break.
The sound of her sensible shoes on the pavement beat a rhythm. Take it, take it, take it. This is your chance. Your one chance to make it. You have to take it. Work hard. I can’t go home. She took a deep breath as she pushed through the doors of the office building, entered the elevator, and hit the button for the tenth floor. Now to face Amy’s monster, Gunther Quill.
But he hadn’t appeared to be a monster to Erica when she’d interviewed with him. One look at the man had sent a sizzle through her body. Dark hair with a few gray ones at his temples, and dark eyes that left a burn wherever they stared, took her breath away. He was tall, lean, and sexy as hell.
She had been expecting a hulking figure of a man, with giant eyebrows, a fierce scowl, and dirty fingernails. Maybe drooling. She had been taken off guard by the gorgeous, impatient man firing questions at her.
Erica gritted her teeth, preparing herself to deceive the devastatingly attractive Gunther Quill and make a connection with a casting director to secure herself a movie role. Her breath hitched in her throat when she eyed the door. The sign read Gunther Quill Productions in large brass letters. She gripped the handle, took one more deep breath, and pulled it open.
“There you are. Right on time. Good. Here’s your desk. Grab a notebook and pen and come into my office.” Gunther’s gaze barely swept over her as he uttered the order and disappeared behind the big door.
Erica hurried to the desk, dropped her purse in the large drawer, took out her pen and notebook, then scurried into Gunther’s office. She sat in a modern, leather chair facing his huge glass desk, which housed an appointment calendar, computer, and one folder. Gunther stood outlined against two giant windows.
She was taken off guard by the tall, broad-shouldered man with the trim waist. His brown eyes seemed to change color as he moved around the room. In some light they were like dark Hershey’s Kisses. In the sunshine by the window, they were more milk chocolate. His scruff was perfect. His white shirt and gold tie were perfect. The charcoal gray suit, tailored to his body, fit him like a glove. And when he flashed his thousand-watt smile at her, she melted inside.
He looked gorgeous as he paced back and forth with the power and grace of a panther.
“Do you take shorthand?”
She shook her head. He frowned.
“Okay, I’ll speak slowly. Make this an email. Max Webster. The usual greeting. Check my old emails. ‘Have a new project. Can you do lunch Thursday? The Satin Club at noon?’ Sign my name.”
The next hour was spent furiously taking notes. Gunther fired instructions, lists, and questions at her, all the time pacing and running his fingers through his hair. Erica kept up, writing fast and training herself to remember whatever she couldn’t jot down.
When he finally took a breath, and stopped talking, he strolled past her to the black carafe on the teak credenza. A tantalizing whiff of expensive, French cologne or aftershave—she couldn’t tell which—captured her senses. Damn, he smells good. Looks like he hasn’t shaved in a day or two. Nice!
He poured a glass of water then offered her one. She declined. His long fingers wrapped around the shimmering crystal. She wondered what they would feel like touching her. He brought the drink up to his sensuous lips. His mouth drew her gaze, the pout of his lower lip making her breath hitch. So incredibly kissable. She ran her tongue over her own, not realizing what she was doing until she noticed Gunther’s stare.
The panther never misses a single move of his prey. Keep your tongue in your mouth, girl.
The phone rang, jarring them both.
“Hi, Whit. What’s up?” He motioned her to leave.
A private conversation. I need to pick up on that myself and leave without his asking. Making a mental note. On her way out, she noticed another door near the window. Wonder where that leads? She didn’t want to be nosy and quickly set about doing all the tasks he had given her.
There was a short manual on her desk that included the computer password and where things were. It was incomplete. Put together by Amy, no doubt. She wasn’t as efficient as she claimed.
She pulled up Microsoft Word and began to type. The light on the intercom for Gunther’s phone glowed for a long time. Other lights, presumably for two other lines, went on and off randomly. The man handles three phones at once?
She kept working, terrified he would come roaring out of his office and she wouldn’t be finished. It was lunchtime when he finally emerged. He stood at her desk, adjusting his tie, which he had obviously undone while he was talking.
“Hate these things,” he muttered. His hair was mussed. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Bet he looks just like that after he’s made love. Heat from embarrassment crept up her neck, but if Gunther noticed it, he didn’t comment.
“Get anything done?” His sardonic tone and cocked eyebrow challenged her. She picked up her notebook.
“Let’s see, Max Webster said ‘yes’ to lunch Thursday. I called him to change the reservation to twelve-thirty, since your regular table isn’t free at noon. Dusty Carpenter’s office is sending over three actresses, instead of two, for the role of Cindy in Strange Bedfellows. Armin Cutter’s secretary emailed. He wants to take a meeting. Charlotte Grim’s office sent the press releases you wanted for Hustle and Dance. Here they are.” She handed the hard copy to him.
“Armin Cutter from Worldwide?” He raised his eyebrows.
She nodded.
“Is that all?”
“I confirmed lunch with Claude Reisse today at one. Dinner with Dorrie Rodgers and her husband is confirmed for tomorrow night. I sorted that huge pile of scripts by type. You know, thrillers, outer space, guy stories, chick flicks, and so on. What’s next?” Gunther looked at her, a small smile on his lips. You thought I couldn’t do it, didn’t you? She tried to keep a smug grin off her face, with little success. I’m not Amy.
Gunther’s gaze connected with hers. A jolt went through her body. Erica shifted in her seat, hoping to cover up her response.
“Are you going to wear that…that…old-fashioned suit every day?”
She nodded.
“It doesn’t even fit you.” He examined her curves, bringing color to her cheeks.
She tugged at the bottom of the jacket then the hem of the skirt. Does he have x-ray vision? “Not everyone can afford fancy clothes, Mr. Quill.”
“Gunther, please. Mr. Quill was my father. I hope after a paycheck or two, you can afford a more appropriate wardrobe. This is a movie production office, not a jail. I like my assistants to dress reasonably well. I guess it’s okay for now. In two weeks, after you’re paid, I expect to see something more…uh…fashionable. Did you sign the paperwork? I’m going to lunch now. If you have some free time, read some of those scripts and tell me what you think.”
Two weeks? I need to pay my rent now. Erica tried to smile, but anxiety gripped her.
“Don’t worry. You did fine. Very good, in fact. Distinct improvement over Amy.”
With those parting words, he was out the door in a flash, leaving her dazed and worried. Erica filled a cup with water from the cooler and opened her small sandwich. She picked up a treatment that caught her eye and read while she ate. Looks like I’ll have plenty of free reading material.
The story pushed her worries about rent out of her mind for a bit. When she finished, she started a new page in her notebook and jotted down the title of the script. Then, she sat back and picked up where she’d left off while polishing off an apple.
* * * *
She was still reading when Gunther returned at two-thirty. He noticed the scrunched up brown bag. She’s on a tight budget. That awful suit and the shirt. Damn thing doesn’t even fit. What’s she hiding under there? She brings lunch, too? She’s beyond broke.
His mind flashed back for a moment to his first job on Broadway as a pr
oducer’s assistant. Laurel, his live-in girlfriend, had always packed him a lunch. They had watched every penny, saving what they could for an occasional meal out at Sardi’s or another fancy restaurant. They had kept a joint savings account, too. Their dreams had been big in those days.
Then, Laurel had gotten badly burned, her career had stalled, and she had committed suicide. The memory slid from nostalgic to painful in seconds. He gave his head a shake and returned to the present. Brown bagging it by yourself isn’t so romantic.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” He watched her closely.
She closed the script and avoided his gaze. “Not at the moment.”
“Good. Lots of overtime in this job. Movies aren’t made from nine to five. You get extra pay for it. I don’t have to worry about some sex-starved guy coming in here demanding I let you leave? Works for me.”
Her eyes widened. He looked her over again. Those lousy clothes don’t fool me. You’re not ugly. Not at all. A little makeup and the right clothes, and you could be passable. Maybe even hot under that crappy suit? Gunther wasn’t interested in passable, only in gorgeous.
Dorrie, his former fiancée and now friend, had warned him about making passes at his assistants. He could get into a lot of trouble, sued even, for sexual harassment. He’d have to work on toning down his interest in what lurked under Erica’s clothes. The way she looks, no temptation. Perfect. I’m not good with temptation. But still, I’d like to get a look.
“When you finish, come into my office with your notebook,” he said, yanking at his tie.
Erica balled up the empty tin foil from her sandwich, tossed it in the trash, and then followed him in and shut the door. Again he paced, pulling his tie off and draping it across his big desk chair as he spoke to her, dictating letters and emails.
Lovers & Liars Page 1
