by Jamie Wesley
***
Without a backward glance, Fliss exited the kitchen and climbed the stairs. The sway of her hips, the ass that had dominated his dreams since that night, the determination that made her one of the world’s biggest stars—they all enthralled him and grounded him to the spot long after she’d disappeared from view. The hiss of running water didn’t help his predicament.
Explicit images of Fliss taking the poor excuse for a bikini off and standing naked under the spray of water, washing herself, touching herself, bombarded his brain. A low moan escaped before he could stop it.
The pathetic noise jolted him back to reality. What the hell was wrong with him? She was Keith’s.
Not anymore.
Damn it.
The kiss had changed everything. He only thought about it a million times per day. Which was not how he worked. He thought about work a million times a day, not a woman. Especially not a woman who drove him crazy.
Her actions didn’t please him, regardless of the good points she made. He didn’t like being manipulated or feeling out of control. But he shouldn’t be surprised. Fliss didn’t know how not to jump without looking when she saw something she wanted. The complete opposite of him. Fliss was flash and bright colors and disorder. Order and quiet ruled his life. He calculated every move he made. It was the only way to survive a childhood encased in chaos and emerge as a functioning adult.
He had to find a way to convince her to sell her stake to him, because he didn’t know what he would do if she didn’t. Fliss wouldn’t be content to be a silent partner like Keith. She was too inquisitive and stubborn to let that happen.
As selfish as it sounded, making Crescendo successful by himself was his ultimate dream. He wanted to prove that he didn’t need help to thrive. That his past didn’t have to define him. Once he reached his goals, maybe then he could slow down and think about his personal life. Only when he reached his goals would he have something worthwhile to offer a good woman on a permanent basis.
He had a plan and Fliss was fucking it up. In spectacular fashion.
The ringing of his cell phone stopped him, temporarily, from contemplating finding the nearest brick wall to bang his head against. He checked the number. He didn’t recognize it, but it had a Los Angeles area code. “Graham here,” he answered.
“Alex Graham?” a man with a Midwestern accent asked. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but Alex couldn’t place it.
“Yes.” The water shut off. He looked up, a vivid image of a naked Fliss getting out of the shower and wiping her luscious body with a towel that had no idea how lucky it was filling his brain. Damn it.
“This is Phillip Mansfield.”
It took a second for Alex to refocus on the conversation, another for the name to register. When it did, he snapped to attention. “Yes, sir, what can I do for you?”
Phillip Mansfield was more than just some guy from Chicago. As one of the most celebrated record producers in the world, he’d received more thank-yous in album liner notes and Grammy acceptance speeches than Alex dared to count.
“I hear you’re interested in telling my wife’s life story.”
“Yes, sir, I am.” As the numerous emails and letters Alex had sent Mansfield and his manager had mentioned. Communication Mansfield had ignored until now.
“So are a lot of people.”
“Yes, but none of them will be able to tell the story as well as I will.” Alex heard the sniff through the phone, but he refused to be cowed. He didn’t know why Mansfield was calling him now, but he wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip away. “I’d love to meet with you to discuss what I have in mind.”
“I’m sure you would.” Mansfield’s amusement was clear. “What do you say we meet next week?”
“That sounds great.”
“Good. I can’t wait to meet you and see your business partner again.”
Alex blinked. “Sir?”
“Felicity Chambers is your business partner, isn’t she? Who do you think sent me the proposal?”
Alex cleared his throat. “Yes, of course. Excuse the momentary lapse. The partnership is so new.”
“Hmm. Give her my love. I’ll have my assistant contact you to set up a meeting.”
“Looking forward to it. Good-bye.” Alex disconnected the call and stared at the phone. Unbelievable. Phillip Mansfield had called him. He had a successful career, no doubt, but this project was extra special to him. Mansfield’s wife, Farrah Blake, had never let adversity stop her from reaching her dreams. She’d overcome a childhood rooted in economic hardship to become one of the world’s most renowned soul singers during the 1960s. Despite an ongoing battle with alcoholism, she’d sustained a successful career for fifty years before her death two years ago from breast cancer.
She’d proved that your origins didn’t have to define your future.
He always tried to include that message in his movies, but this would be the first time he would tell a true story about an American legend, someone with whom he felt a personal connection. He hailed from the same Philadelphia neighborhood as Farrah.
The biopic would be a radical departure from the films he usually produced, but he felt compelled to tell the story. Now it appeared he might have a chance to do it the right way—with the full cooperation of Phillip Mansfield, who knew Farrah best and would be an invaluable resource to making the story as accurate as possible. Plus, Farrah’s music, which Mansfield owned as executioner of her estate, was the key to the film. Producing the movie without her songs would be an inauthentic, unsatisfying task. Now, he was one step closer to making the movie of his dreams a reality. He pumped his fist. “Yes!”
“What are you so excited about?”
Alex whirled. Fliss descended the stairs, looking sexier than she had any right to. At least she no longer wore the bikini. Thirty minutes ago, he would have paid good money to make that happen, but now he had to concede it would’ve been in vain. She still exuded the sexiness and sophistication that were an intrinsic part of her, despite her casual attire. A silk T-shirt slipped off her left shoulder and short khaki shorts showed off smooth, toned legs. Her feet were bare, her fire-engine-red toenails taunting him. Her hair was still damp, but she’d pulled it back into a ponytail. It didn’t look like she’d put on any makeup. She didn’t need it. She looked like a college student on her way to the library to study on a random Wednesday night. The sexiest student on campus.
Damn her for breaking down the walls that had always existed so naturally between them. They were now gone forever thanks to the kiss that had shown him in the most detailed fashion all that was possible between them. All that would never happen because it made no sense. Everything he did made sense.
He stared at the phone in his hand. “I just talked to Phillip Mansfield. He wants to meet next week.”
“Oh, my God. He called!” She bounded down the last few stairs with her arms opened wide like she intended to hug him. A step away from him, she jerked to a stop, her arms dropping to her sides. “That’s…terrific.”
Disappointment—inconvenient, unwanted, and baffling—crashed through him. He pushed it aside. “Yeah, I’m excited about the prospect of optioning Farrah’s life and music rights from Mansfield. Which I have you to thank for.” He frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Care to explain?”
“Sure, but let’s go sit in the living room. You have too many inches of height on me. I don’t like you glaring down at me. You should work on that. Frowning causes wrinkle lines. You don’t want to age before your time.”
“Fliss…” he warned. No doubt she was trying to drive him insane, but he was not in the mood.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she said over her shoulder as she walked down the hall to the living room. She settled into the oversized butterscotch leather sofa and tucked her legs underneath her. He took the more sensible option and sat in the matching armchair. The last time they’d sat on the same sofa… Well, no need to think about that again.
“When you were telling me about the project, you were so excited about it, but you hadn’t convinced Phillip to option the rights to you yet,” Fliss said. “So I called him the next day. He produced the soundtrack to a movie I did a few years ago. He spent some time on the set, and I got to know him a little. Delightful man.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you knew him when I told you I was working on this?”
“I wanted to make sure I could get somewhere with him before I got your hopes up. I wasn’t sure he would listen to what I had to say or even remember me, for that matter.”
Not remember Fliss? Fat chance. “Yeah, well, he seemed enamored with you. I was instructed to give you his love.” Alex glared at her. “Why haven’t you said anything before now?”
“Well, after that night, I was busy finalizing the divorce, and the right time never presented itself,” she said. “Plus, I had no idea he’d read the proposal.”
“I guess I have to thank you.” Alex sucked in a breath, doing his best to rein in his annoyance. To rein in the little ball of insecurity bouncing in his stomach. She’d succeeded where he hadn’t.
Fliss laughed, immune to the turmoil enveloping him. “Don’t sound so excited about it. Besides, it wasn’t my word alone that got him to call you. He has good relationships with tons of people in Hollywood who would kill to produce the Farrah Blake movie. He told me he planned to take a closer look at your other projects before he made a decision. He must have liked what he found, which I’m not surprised about. Your work speaks for itself. It’s first-rate.”
A rush of pleasure zoomed through him at the unexpected compliment. Compliments weren’t a customary part of their relationship.
“I strive for that same level of excellence in my own work,” she added, beaming. “Which is why we’re going to make great partners.”
And right when he started to forget about how much she drove him to search out the nearest bar for a shot of vodka, her willful stubbornness rose to the surface. She claimed it was the reason she’d made it in Hollywood, but it had made him grit his teeth more than once—like when she’d insisted on trying to make her marriage work when it was obvious her husband wasn’t interested. Or showing up at an awards banquet even though her risk of embarrassment was high because she wanted to make a damn point. And now.
“We’re not going to be partners,” he said through clenched teeth.
“You know that’s one of the things I admire about you the most,” she said, wagging her index finger at him. “Your stubbornness.”
Alex pointed at his chest. “I’m stubborn? You’re the stubborn one.”
She shrugged. “Maybe. Why don’t we discuss our strategy for the meeting?”
“Our strategy?” She truly was the most maddening person he’d ever met.
Her eyes widened. “Yes. You don’t think I’m going to let you plan everything by yourself, do you?”
CHAPTER THREE
“Hello? Anyone here?”
Fliss closed the door with her hip and stepped farther into the room, clutching a white, grease-stained box.
Despite housing one of the “it” production companies in Hollywood, the Crescendo office wasn’t big or fancy, which was how Alex wanted it. He cared about producing movies, not feeding his ego. Which meant he wasn’t a total lost cause, right? They’d make this work, right? Right. She hoped.
She took a quick look around. A maze of cubicles filled the room. Posters of Crescendo’s films hung on the white walls, including one of The Last Night, starring none other than her ex. Keith held a gun near his face and wore intimidating black sunglasses and an even more intimidating scowl. Men had wanted to be him. Women had wanted to be with him. The movie had earned sixty million dollars in its opening weekend. Champagne had flowed in their home.
A lifetime ago.
With a derisive snort, Fliss went searching for human life. Her ex-husband was history. She was here to claim her future.
She grinned, stifling a childlike squeal. Despite the nondescript furnishings, the room had an undeniable aura. It was a proven beacon of creativity, and she wanted in. Now she had her chance. She’d make this work if it was the last thing she did.
Even if nerves were threatening to put the smackdown on her joy.
But that was normal, right? She was stepping out of her comfort zone into a place where her welcome wasn’t guaranteed. It wasn’t like she’d ever produced a film before. And she had basically forced her way in, after all. A twinge of guilt pinched near her heart, but she pushed the unwanted emotion aside. Crescendo needed her and she needed Crescendo.
Fliss bit her lip. Plus, she had donuts. Everyone appreciated free food, right?
Was anyone here, though? It was a little after nine o’clock, not exactly an unnatural start time to the business day, and yet she hadn’t heard or seen anyone. She took a few more steps, but still, no one appeared or made a sound. Right as she opened her mouth to call out another greeting, a man stepped out of a doorway toward the back of the office. The break room, from what she recalled. He jerked back when he spotted her. She’d never seen him before. He looked to be in his early twenties. Medium height and build, brown hair, blue eyes, the pallor of someone who didn’t get much sun.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t hear you come in.” He moved closer. It took him a second to recognize her, but he did. The helpful, polite look on his face froze, then morphed into astonishment. It took him another beat to wrestle it back into polite inquiry. She’d seen the sequence plenty of times. It always amused her.
He cleared his throat. “Ms. Chambers, how can I help you?”
“I’m here to get started,” she said with a smile.
He blinked twice, then cocked his head to the side. “I’m sorry?”
“I said I’m here to get started.”
Shock swept across his face. “I thought…”
“You thought I’d be a silent partner like my ex-husband was, but that’s not the case.” She maintained her smile and upbeat tone despite her increasing uncertainty. Alex hadn’t mentioned she’d be starting today?
“No, I-I…” Now he looked like a frightened rabbit, like he had no clue what to say or do next. “I’ll just…”
“What’s your name?” she asked, taking pity on him.
“I’m-I’m Tim.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Tim. You can call me Felicity.” She offered her hand.
He shyly grasped it and offered a tremulous smile. “Hi…Felicity.”
“I’ll take it from here.”
At the sound of the new, unamused voice, Tim dropped her hand like he’d learned it was infected with cooties. Fliss stepped to the side and looked behind him. Alex stood at a door, his office if she recalled correctly, about twenty feet away. He crossed his arms, pulling his blue button-down shirt across a wide chest and muscled arms. He looked good. In control. No surprise there. He didn’t look happy to see her. Definitely no surprise there. It didn’t matter.
“Thanks,” she said to Tim. “See you later.”
She strode toward Alex and walked past him into his office. Took a seat in the chair in front of his desk and deposited her belongings on the floor. Released a silent sigh of relief when the door shut behind her. “I see you told your employees I was coming. No, make that our employees.”
Good. She sounded confident. In control. No need for him to know butterflies were performing triple somersaults in her stomach.
“I wasn’t sure you’d show up, so I waited.” He stood next to her chair, looming over her. No doubt hoping to intimidate. It wasn’t working. Much. No, she wouldn’t let it work at all. You’re an actor, Fliss. So act.
She stood, bringing their bodies temptingly close. She ordered herself not to step away. Not even when she noticed that, once again, he smelled terrific—spicy and all Alex-y. A scent she’d have no trouble picking out even if blindfolded. Not when she could conjure up at a moment’s notice how it had enveloped her that night. His hard body
, too. And that was enough thinking about that. She met his chocolate eyes and let her lips curl into a slight smile. “More like hoping I wouldn’t show up, I’m sure. But that’s not like me, as you well know. So stop glaring at me, and let’s get to work.”
She reached up to pat his arm, but he shied away from the contact and retreated around the desk. He dropped into his chair. “Why are you here, Fliss?”
“I already told you. I want to help.” She leaned forward, pressing her hands down on the wooden desk. “You need my help.” Alex opened his mouth, but she held up a hand. “Don’t bother arguing with me. You know it’s true.”
***
Yes, he knew it was true. That didn’t mean he had to like it. He’d tried unsuccessfully for almost a year to set up a meeting with Mansfield. She’d snapped her fingers and made it happen in a matter of weeks. He didn’t like relying on others. He didn’t like others having control over his dreams. He didn’t like the way her alluring scent made him want to lick and nibble her skin. Which, in turn, made him question his sanity. No, he didn’t like it.
Any of it.
He glared, but she didn’t so much as flinch. She obviously meant business and wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. Well, he’d defined “meaning business.” Time to get some answers. “Why are you here, Fliss?”
“I already told you,” she said through gritted teeth. “I want to take control of my career.”
He didn’t care if she was mad. He wanted the truth. Was she here because this was a diversion? Something “fun” to do until something else caught her interest? “That’s it?”
Her eyes flashed. “Yes! What is your problem? I did something good. Got you this meeting. You should be thanking me.”
