If I Loved You (Hollywood Hearts 1)

by Jean C. Joachim

  Chaz pulled her into the shadows and pressed his lips to hers. He threaded his fingers in her hair while he deepened the kiss. The moment the tip of his tongue touched hers a tingle shot all the way to her toes. When he finally let her go, Megan could barely breathe.

  “I wish I could make it better…” She mumbled, cupping his face with her hand.

  “You just did.” A grin tugged at one side of his mouth.

  He’s not the guy I thought he was at all.

  “Don’t know why I’m trusting you with that…I hardly know you.” His brows knitted.

  “I wouldn’t disclose that to anyone…on pain of death.”

  “Maybe you don’t have to go that far. Just don’t post it on Facebook, okay?”

  “Never.” Megan stood close enough to feel heat from his chest.

  “Thanks.” He brushed his fingertips across her forehead. “Guess if I’m going to trust you with seven million dollars, I can trust you with my most precious secret.”

  They continued out of the park and up Central Park West, walking through shadows and the light from streetlamps.

  Business, Megan!

  The pair stopped to linger in front of her building. She didn’t go inside. He didn’t leave.

  “You can call me any time you want to know how your portfolio is doing. We issue monthly reports, but I’ll be available to you twenty-four/seven.” She shifted her weight.

  “Oh?” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Can I call you at three in the morning for…advice?”

  “It might not be worth much at that hour but…sure.” She grinned.

  “What if you’re not alone?” A naughty grin spread across his face.

  “Oh, I’ll be alone.”

  “Sure about that?”

  “Sure. And you?” She leaned against the building.

  “I’m on my own now, too.” He braced himself against the building with his hand.

  Megan stared.

  “Glad to hear you’re…unattached.” His eyes glowed in the light from the street lamps.

  “Oh?” She cocked an eyebrow at him.

  “I like to come first with the women in my life.”

  “Now I’m a woman in your life?” She stood up straight.

  “Of course. You’re my financial advisor…and a woman.”

  “You might not feel that way about me after I get through going over your spending habits.” Megan covered a smile with her hand.

  “You’re going to do what?” Chaz raised his eyebrows.

  “I’ll make recommendations on how you can cut back on your expenses and save more money…like maybe getting rid of your chauffeur.”

  “Bobby and I grew up together. Bobby’s got my back. I’ve got his. He straightened me out when I needed it. When I’m not here, he uses the car to run his own car service. He supports his wife and kid. You might hire him, too, if you need a car.”

  “Bobby stays. Got it.”

  “Are you going to look over every expense, every check? Makes me feel a bit naked.”

  “Hiding hooker expenses you don’t want me to see?” Megan raised an eyebrow.

  Chaz turned bright red. “No…but it does seem…intrusive—at best.”

  “All part of Dillon and Weed service. I analyze how you’re spending your money, suggest ways to either cut down or spend more wisely.”

  “Hmm. Didn’t know that was part of the deal.”

  Megan placed her hand on his arm. “Hey, if you’re uncomfortable, then I’ll skip it. This isn’t a doctor visit. You have to agree…you’re in charge.”

  “Good.” A look of relief relaxed Chaz’s features.

  “No problem. Only want you to be sensible.”

  “Are you ever…not sensible?” He cocked an eyebrow at her.

  “Rarely,” she admitted.

  “I’m going to see if I can’t find a few less sensible things you should indulge in.” His eyes twinkled as he turned a warm smile her way.

  Megan tried to look away but his expression was so sexy, so alluring. His dark eyes were sparkling, the shadow on his cheek inviting her touch, and his lips so tempting she couldn’t drag her gaze away; or herself, either. She hung around in front of The Royal, staring at her feet then looking up at the stars, anywhere but in Chaz Duncan’s eyes.

  “Can I take you upstairs?” Chaz took her elbow.

  “I’m safe from here on…”

  “I’d like to see where you live. I might want to get a place in Manhattan…”

  Megan motioned for him to follow her. He tagged along as she walked through the door.

  “Hi, Briny,” Megan greeted the burly doorman, who was holding the wrought iron and glass door open.

  He nodded to her before breaking into a huge smile.

  “Yes, this is Chaz Duncan. Chaz, Briny.”

  Chaz shook the man’s hand. A pug rose from a sleeping position next to the doorman’s desk and stretched his front legs.

  “Can’t believe Grady Spencer is right here in my building.” Briny tipped his hat.

  “Onward, Lieutenant!” Chaz gave the salute he used playing Grady Spencer in his movies. Briny saluted back.

  “What’s Baxter doing here?” Megan asked, stooping to scratch the pudgy pug behind the ears.

  “Mrs. Bender is in the hospital, so I’m taking care of him until she gets back.”

  “Nothing serious, I hope.”

  “The family hasn’t told me,” Briny explained.

  The elevator door opened. Megan took Chaz by the arm as she punched the button for the fourteenth floor.

  “Fans everywhere, huh?” Megan leaned against the back of the elevator.

  “It never gets old.” Chaz smiled at her.

  She opened her front door, turning on a light as Chaz followed her in. Dropping her keys in the silver bowl on the credenza, Megan toed off her shoes and wiggled her toes.

  The spacious apartment had a small foyer opening onto a large living room.

  “The kitchen is through there,” she said, indicating an archway to the left.

  “Your bedroom?” He asked with a snicker.

  “Down the hall, with the other bedrooms,” Meg gestured to the right, ignoring his insinuation.

  The living room had windows eight feet high. A large black leather sectional—dotted with red, orange, and white throw pillows—hugged one wall. An impressive flat screen television faced the sofa. A chrome and glass coffee table fit perfectly into the right angle of the couch. In the opposite corner sat a round, glass table and four ebony and chrome chairs in a modern design. A few smoky black plexiglass book cubes were artfully stacked, filled with books and art objects. Five large, modern oil paintings hung on the bright white walls, bringing warmth plus a splash of color to the room…the perfect finishing touch.

  “Wow, did you decorate this room?”

  “With Penny, Mark’s wife.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  A few feet beyond the foyer sat a black upright piano with a black piano bench tucked under the keyboard. Chaz went over and lifted the keyboard protector. He ran his thumbnail over the keys. Megan jumped as the sound echoed through the empty apartment.

  “Who plays?” Chaz turned to her.

  “Penny and I do.”

  “Play something.”

  Megan opened the music book she had left out. Chaz moved to stand behind her. She selected the song “If I Loved You.” Standing behind her, he started to sing. His beautiful baritone voice was perfect for the song. He rested his hand on her shoulder. The heat from his body warmed her. As he sang, the words reverberated in her head, describing how she was beginning to feel about him. If she loved him would she be able to admit it, or would she feel shy, like the song said? Would he think her simply another groupie, another woman out to bask in reflected fame?

  When the song was over, Megan blew out a breath and closed the songbook. He can’t know what I’m thinking. Cool down, girl. You don’t know him well…remember, he’s a client.

 
; “I’d better go.” Chaz removed his hand from her shoulder.

  She followed him to the door.

  He turned toward her. “Can I ask you a favor?”

  “Anything,” she replied.

  “Anything?” He got a sexy gleam in his eye as he raised his eyebrows. His kissable lips curled in an inviting smile.

  Megan smacked him playfully on the shoulder. “Almost anything…you know what I mean. What?”

  “You play so well…I’m auditioning for a Broadway musical…”

  “Broadway?”

  “I have to sing for the audition and need a place to practice…”

  “You want to practice here? With me playing?” She folded her hands together in front of her chest.

  “It’d be hard work. I’ve been taking voice lessons, but I’m far from Broadway quality. This means endless repetition…”

  “Yes!” Megan clapped her hands together. Okay, now you’re officially a groupie.

  “I won’t take my business away from Dillon & Weed if you say no. This is strictly personal…it’s okay to…”

  “I’d love to! How exciting…training a Broadway star!” She clapped her hands together.

  “I don’t have the part yet,” he laughed.

  “You will.”

  “Thank you so much. Can we start in a couple of weeks, as soon as I finish this PBS series?”

  “Of course. By the way, when was the last time you had a home-cooked meal?”

  “I don’t know…maybe ten years ago.”

  “Oh my God. First session, I’m making you dinner.”

  “Can’t wait.” He stepped closer to her. Chaz brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. He leaned over to kiss her tenderly. “Good night, Meg.” His breath tickled her.

  “Good night.” She touched his cheek for a moment.

  Megan watched him walk down the hall. The elevator arrived quickly. She smiled to see it was empty before he got in. No one to make him uncomfortable. With a quick wave of his hand, he was gone. The hall seemed to shrink after the elevator doors closed. The lights in the apartment appeared dimmer when she went inside. The lack of his presence made her home feel empty.

  Meg undressed and slid into bed. Even after several drinks, she didn’t feel tired. Her mind was spinning. I’ve got to practice. How can I be good enough to rehearse with Chaz Duncan? Gotta get the piano tuned. As she started to make a mental to-do list, sleep overtook her.

  * * * *

  May was a beautiful month in New York City, but Chaz did not see the sun because he spent his days inside a studio. Filming twelve episodes of the American History program went on until nine o’clock every night. The compressed schedule was necessary, since the show was scheduled to begin airing on July fourth. Bobby had the limo at the studio door at rehearsal’s end, waiting to drive Chaz to The Wellington Arms, Quinn Roberts’ posh building on Central Park West at Seventy-Fourth Street.

  Quinn—standing over six feet tall with brown hair and blue eyes—was between films and lounging at home. When his film series The Adventures of Joe Martin was on hiatus, Quinn relaxed in his roomy apartment. He welcomed Chaz’s company, and Chaz saved money on a hotel by staying with Quinn. Besides, he enjoyed hanging out with his old friend. Chaz trusted Quinn…they had been through adventures together.

  “Beer?” Quinn asked Chaz as he closed the front door.

  “Got something stronger?”

  “Absolut?”

  “Perfect. Rocks?”

  Quinn gave him thumbs up before disappearing into the kitchen. Chaz leaned against the front door for a moment then made his way to the chocolate brown suede sofa. He plopped down. Quinn returned with a glass of vodka on the rocks in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other.

  “Tough day?”

  Chaz nodded as he took a big swig of his drink. “‘Mrs. Jefferson’ doesn’t know her lines.” Chaz toed off his shoes.

  “Who is it?” Quinn raised the beer bottle to his lips.

  Chaz put his feet up on the oak coffee table. “Anna Jason.” He sighed.

  “I know her. Hey, it’s her damn job. It’s frickin’ annoying,” Quinn said, placing his bottle on a coaster on the coffee table.

  “A coaster? Do you still have a dick or did you turn into a woman?”

  “I carved this table myself. Not gonna let a dumb ass beer bottle fuck it up.”

  “Right, right. Forgot that.”

  “Tell me about your new chick.” A grin stole across Quinn’s face.

  “She’s not a new chick, she’s my financial advisor. You should go to her, too.”

  “Is she hot?”

  “Yeah, smart, too.”

  “She’s your new girl, Chaz, come on. It’s me here.” Quinn took another swig of beer.

  “No, really, business. Strictly business.”

  “Kiss her yet?”

  Heat rose to his face.

  Quinn gave a short laugh. “That’s what I thought. Your new girl.”

  “I’m leaving to do the next West of the Sun flick about two weeks after I finish this shoot. So, it can’t go far, can it?” Chaz gulped down the rest of his vodka then ran his hand through his hair.

  “Another short term chick? Don’t you get tired of all the wooing before bedding?”

  “The bedding is always worth it.” A Cheshire Cat grin crossed his face.

  “Not last time.”

  “Okay, okay, Rhonda was a bad idea.” Chaz shrugged.

  Quinn laughed.

  “Disaster is more like it.”

  Chaz threw an evil glance at Quinn. “This one is different.”

  “Oh?” Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Haven’t I heard you say that before?”

  “She isn’t in the business. She’s smart and funny.”

  “I thought you said you’d never date anyone not in films.” Quinn tried to hide a smile.

  “Meg is…she sees me as a regular guy. She’s not star struck. Her brother is Mark Davis…” Chaz sat forward on the sofa.

  “Mark Davis of the Delaware Demons?” Quinn sat up.

  “Yeah.”

  “Hell, did you get tickets? When are we going to a game?”

  Okay, Meg. I get it. Must be tough to be his sister. “She’d kill me. Every guy she’s ever dated has asked about her brother. She’s sick of it. Reminds me of us.”

  “You mean, ‘what’s it like to work with Chaz Duncan?’” Quinn imitated a woman’s voice while batting his eyelashes.

  Chaz snorted and laughed at the same time. “We can buy tickets if you want to go so bad.”

  “She hot?” Quinn took a gulp of beer.

  “She’s hot and doesn’t know it.”

  “The hot ones always know it,” Quinn scoffed.

  “Not this one. Honestly. Meg has no idea how hot she is. She wears these low cut sweaters to work and then bends over the desk in front of me—and not on purpose, like she forgot what she’s wearing. Great rack. She doesn’t even know she’s flashing me.”

  “A hot babe who doesn’t know it? How do you find these women, Chaz?”

  “Dumb luck.”

  “Does she have a friend?”

  “What happened to Selena?”

  “Didn’t work out.”

  “Sorry. She was hot…a stick of fire.”

  “Stick of dynamite is more like it. What a pain in the ass. She was demanding and always needing attention…constantly. Geez.” He shook his head.

  “Meg’s independent. Maybe too independent.”

  “Thought she was only a financial advisor.” Quinn turned a probing gaze on his friend.

  “Wish it were more.”

  “When do I get to meet this perfect woman?”

  “Why would I introduce her to you?” Chaz cocked an eyebrow at his friend.

  “Thought you wanted me to use her services?”

  “Not that type of service, bonehead!”

  “Afraid of a little competition?” Quinn straightened up.

  “Not stupid’s all.”


  “Don’t want to screw things up with the ‘love of your life’ here.” Quinn placed the bottle back on the coaster.

  “Shut up, Quinn.” Chaz rifled a throw pillow at his friend.

  Quinn returned the pillow. Within seconds, a full-fledged pillow fight blossomed in the living room.

  * * * *

  “Megan Davis.” Meg answered the phone using her business voice.

  “You sound so…so official.”

  “Yeah. Business office, remember.” Megan smiled at the sound of his voice.

  He chuckled.

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Duncan?”

  “You can have dinner with me tonight. I have tomorrow off…they’re shooting a different scene with an actor who has other commitments. So, since I’m free tomorrow, I can stay up late tonight.”

  “Late? What did you have in mind?” Meg raised her eyebrows.

  “Dinner. Just dinner.”

  “Really?” She chuckled.

  “Days I’m shooting I have to be at the studio by five, so I go to sleep very early. Since I’m not done until nine at night, I usually grab something quick, de-stress a bit, then go to bed. But tonight, I can be…uh…social.”

  “In that case…sure. What time?”

  “Hmm, how about nine fifteen?”

  Megan burst out laughing. “Dinner after nine?” She put her coffee down.

  “Oh, I forgot. Normal people here.”

  “Maybe dessert?”

  “Great! Dessert! Wear jeans. Bobby and I’ll pick you up in front of your building at nine fifteen.”

  “Is this business?”

  “Uh…not really. Does it have to be?”

  “Well…you’re a client…and…”

  “I want to know why you picked The Gregory Company stock over Colorado Mining. Does that qualify?”

  “Perfect…uh…fine. See you later.”

  She hung up the phone, rested her chin on her hand. A date. She smiled.

  “Dreamy eyes…must have something to do with Chaz Duncan.” Brielle leaned against the doorframe, her blonde hair sparkling and her lips rouged to perfection.

  Anger caused heat in Megan’s cheeks. She hated Brielle second-guessing her. Brielle made her jealousy of Megan obvious unless Harvey Dillon or Carleton Weed was around. Then, she’d be singing Megan’s praises. Moreover, having Brielle’s office directly across the hall made it impossible to work unobserved. Megan glanced down at her computer screen. “If you can call it dreamy-eyed to be happy the stock market is up, then I guess I am.”