by Cindy Dees
She headed for the restroom and was not surprised to spy another pile of clothes folded and waiting on the edge of the bathtub. Her hostess did not miss a trick.
This time Minerva had left her a strapless sundress with a smocked top that hugged the curves of her breasts, possibly more revealingly than the dress from the night before. She was going to wear two dresses in under twenty-four hours? Yup, the world had officially come to an end.
Ana pulled on the sundress and had to admit it looked great on her. The bright cobalt-blue background of the tropical print picked up the color of her eyes, making them look even bigger and bluer than usual. They were her best feature. Those and her cheekbones. She did like her nose, too, but as she got older, its general cuteness and pertness were starting to get on her nerves.
She was twenty-five years old, but she still routinely got carded at bars as if she wasn’t even twenty-flipping-one. In another dozen years, she probably wouldn’t mind being taken for younger than she was. But right now, it sucked.
Jackson was nowhere to be seen as she wandered through the mansion and into the kitchen. Rosie was there, though, kneading a big ball of dough.
“May I help?” she asked.
“Not unless you’ve got a mighty pile of emotion to work out of you,” Rosie replied.
If Ana wasn’t mistaken, that was just a hint of an Irish brogue in the woman’s voice. “I’ve got enough stored up for that dough,” she retorted.
“Sit. Tell me what makes you emotional on a pretty day like this.”
“In a word, Jackson.”
“Ah, well. There’s not enough bread dough in California to deal with that boy.”
“Have you known him a long time?”
“I used to chase him out of my kitchen with a rolling pin when he stole cookies as a boy. I’ve been with Miss Minerva for going on thirty years.”
“What was he like as a kid?” Ana asked as she perched on a bar stool by the counter and commenced snacking on the bowl of red grapes in front of her.
“About what you’d expect. All boy. But a good heart. Excellent student. Star athlete. Never gave his grandmother a minute’s trouble.”
Ana frowned. “Minerva raised him, then?”
“Aye, she raised all her grandkids. Linda, his ma, wanted to be an actress bad. Chased her dream until it killed her.”
Ana stared, shocked.
“She got mixed up with the wrong crowd. Got into partying. Drugs. She OD’d when Jackie was fourteen. Took it hard when she died, he did. I always thought he became an actor to give her dream a happy ending.”
“Did he move in with Minerva, after his mother died?”
“All the kids had been living here on and off for years already. Linda never was very good at organizing a house with five little ones in it. Her husband died when the twins were babies, so that would have made Jackie about four. Didn’t change his life that much when his da died. But when he lost his ma, that hurt his heart bad. You could see it in his eyes. He grew up all at once when she passed.”
“How did his father die?”
Rosie shrugged. “Soldier. Killed in action overseas and widowed Linda with all those babies. That’s when she got it in her head she’d become a movie star.”
“How many kids are there? And where does Jackson fall in the bunch?”
“He’s the middle child. Has two older brothers and two younger sisters who are twins.”
Wow. She’d had no idea....
“What lies is Rosie telling you about me?” Jackson asked from a doorway he proceeded to barge through. Ana glimpsed a garage over his shoulder. “Here are the groceries you asked for, Rosie.” He set several plastic grocery bags down on the counter.
“Thanks, Jackie. I’ve laid out coffee and bagels from Wollenberg’s in the breakfast room. Take your young lady in there and feed her for me, will you?”
“You haven’t eaten?” he asked her.
“I had some grapes. I’ll be fine.”
“Not in this house, you won’t. They live for food around here. Why do you think I have to work out so much?”
Gee. She’d thought he was just staying in shape to do his job. She pursed her lips and followed him to this alleged breakfast room. It turned out to be a sunny, hexagonal nook in the corner tower. Window boxes full of bright flowers under each window lent even more cheer to the space.
As soon as they were alone in the cozy room, he turned to face her. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. Fine,” she answered automatically.
“Seriously. Are you okay?”
She turned away, mumbling, “I don’t usually have nightmares like that. One-time anomaly...”
A big hand landed lightly on her shoulder. “Hey. You were authorized to have nightmares after the day you had yesterday.”
“Just so you know, I don’t do girly emotional outbursts as a rule.”
He stepped so close behind her she could feel the heat radiating off his big body and said, low and sexy, “In case you forgot, I can handle occasional outbursts. I work with actresses for a living, remember?”
And apparently, she was about to be one of those actresses. Although frankly she was in total denial about landing the lead role in his next film.
Blessedly, he changed the subject and commented, “You might as well eat. Minerva and Rosie will bedevil you until you do.”
She took a cinnamon-raisin bagel and commenced nibbling at it pensively. Jackson remained standing, staring out at the ocean, arms crossed. He looked lonely. It was probably just learning about his past that made her think such things.
“I’m sorry about the beach last night,” he said solemnly, his back turned to her. “And, the, um, naked thing. It won’t happen again.”
Seriously? He was going to go all noble and formal on her after he’d had his tongue down her throat and practically had hot sex with her? She responded tartly, “And why won’t it happen again?”
He whipped around to stare at her. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me. Why won’t it happen again?”
“Because...because...we work together. I’m your boss, for crying out loud.”
Dammit. He was right. He was off-limits. Not to mention he was also completely out of her league. Heck, they didn’t even play the same sport. He was a glamorous, sexy movie star with all the polish and packaging of a megastar. And she was a struggling extra wannabe with a pile of debt and a mountain of doubt.
“Is your grandmother okay with me having a room that adjoins yours? She strikes me as pretty old-school. And she’s also an intelligent and observant woman.”
“I’m an adult, and I haven’t asked her permission to date anyone since I was about fifteen. I’m keeping you close by where I can keep an eye on you.” He glared at her a little for good measure.
She couldn’t resist asking in disappointment, “So you think we shouldn’t make out again?”
“We’ll do plenty of making out during filming. The hero and heroine fall in love over the course of the movie.”
She had to shake her head. “And you’re sure you want me for this role? I mean, far be it from me to talk you out of hiring me, but I don’t want to wreck your studio’s first film.”
“I’m sure,” he replied quickly. “I want you.”
She stared as he spun away, his cheeks suspiciously colored. God. If only he meant that in more than just a professional way. She could fall hard for him if he ever said something like that to her for real.
“If you’re uncomfortable touching me or kissing me, we can rehearse that. You will have to get over being hinky before we start filming,” he said a shade awkwardly. “Do you want to make out now, or do you have somewhere else to be?”
She laughed in spite of herself. “Sheesh. You make it sound
worse than a root canal. I didn’t think it was that bad last night.”
“Are you kidding?” he blurted. “It was epic.”
Warmth flooded through her. Really? She’d thought so, too. She said equally awkwardly, “I need to go shopping this morning. Get a few basic supplies, maybe some clothes.”
“Gran’s got closets and closets full. She was saying earlier how glad she is to pass on some of the stuff that’s too young for her.”
Ana cleared her throat and said uncomfortably, “I need bras that fit.”
“I dunno. I liked the results of a tight bra last night.” He shoved a hand through his sun-kissed hair. “Christ, I’m sorry. That was out of line.”
“We’re about to make out all the time professionally, remember? It’s not out of line for lovers to say something like that to one another.”
“Lov—” He broke off, swearing under his breath.
“Pretend lovers,” she corrected hastily. Oh, God. Beyond awkward. She changed subjects and didn’t even try to disguise the awkwardness. “If I’m going to be staying here for a few days, I need to pick up my car. Could I beg a ride over to the motel to pick it up?”
“Of course. Let me know when you’d like to go, and I’ll arrange my schedule to drive you over.”
“I’m turning into a giant imposition here.”
“You’re not imposing on anyone. Get over it, and let me help you.”
Ana frowned until he added, “If it’ll make you feel better, think of it as a business arrangement. A trade, if you will. You work on my film; I help you get your affairs straightened out.”
That, she could do. Business. A fair trade. She nodded her agreement.
He said casually, “I’ve got a meeting with Adrian Turnow today. But tonight, we can start rehearsing if you’d like.”
Gulp. Rehearsing as in making out and putting their hands all over each other. And there went her ability to concentrate on a blessed thing today. He patted her shoulder awkwardly and all but ran from the breakfast room.
Tonight, huh? More making out, huh? What if he didn’t have the strength to stop this time?
Chapter 7
Ana spent most of the morning wrangling with her insurance company. There was confusion over the fact that a full criminal investigation had yet to be filed, but they eventually agreed to send her a preliminary check based on the initial police report. It should be enough to cover a new toothbrush and some new clothes.
It was shocking how getting a few basic items turned into more or less a shopping spree. She blamed Jackson for it. He’d made her nervous about “rehearsing” tonight, and she’d shopped to distract herself from thinking about making out with him...or more.
It had been one thing to be fresh off a bad scare and kissing the guy in sheer relief at being alive. It was even manageable to have woken up disoriented with his delicious body draped all over hers and to have kissed him. But to intentionally set out to snog the guy...that was just weird. She was particularly worried that it was going to be monstrously weird to make out with her boss as an ongoing part of their working relationship.
In celebration of the apparent big movie role she’d supposedly landed, she indulged herself with a few lacy bras and skimpy bikini panties. They made her feel naughty. And feminine. And wanton.
It felt a little like Christmas being surrounded by a bunch of shopping bags and wrapping paper as she sat on the floor of her beautiful room in Jackson’s home. If yesterday’s disasters had accomplished nothing else, they’d been a sharp reminder that the most important things in life weren’t things. But still. It was nice to have a few items to call her own.
A knock on the connecting door between her room and Jackson’s made her look up guiltily. “Come in.”
Jackson poked his head in and looked around at the chaos. He broke out in a big grin. “Merry Christmas.” He held out a small bag to her. She peeked in it and was startled to see a cell phone. Latest model, waterproof case, car charger, and top-of-the-line earbuds.
“You shouldn’t have!”
“I said the studio would get you one so we can always get in touch with you. It’s a tax-deductible business expense for us, so don’t get worked up over it.”
“Thanks.” She ducked her head, ashamed of him having spent so much money on her.
“In all of yesterday’s excitement, I forgot to ask who your film agent is. We need to get going on the contract for you.”
She snorted. “Are you kidding? I’m a nobody. I don’t have an agent.”
He momentarily looked startled but recovered smoothly. “I can recommend a couple of the top folks in the business to you. And I swear I won’t recommend any lightweights whom I can push around. I’ll take care of you.”
He rattled off several names she recognized from the trade papers. Then he looked at her expectantly. “Any preference?”
“Um, not really.”
He hit the speed dial on his phone and murmured as he listened, “Aaron Steinburg is the best. He’s been waiting for my agent to die for years. If she ever does, he’s the guy I’d go to.”
Ana stared as Jackson spoke casually. “Hey, Aaron, It’s Jackson Prescott. I’ve just signed an unknown actress to be the lead in a movie I’m producing. Yes, the one with Adrian Turnow. She needs an agent. You up for taking on a hot new up-and-comer? Great. I’ll have her call you. Her name’s Ana Izzolo. And my lawyer will call you in the morning with the offer.”
Her eyeballs about fell out of her head as Jackson glanced up at her even more casually. “Okay. That’s taken care of. You’ve got an agent. I’ll have my lawyer contact Aaron first thing tomorrow to get the negotiations moving.”
“You do realize I’d take this job in return for room and board—and maybe enough to pay off my student loans—don’t you?”
Jackson grinned. “Rule number one, don’t ever give away that kind of information to the studio executives. They’re sharks. And unless your debt runs into the hundreds of thousands of dollars, we’ll be paying you quite a bit more than your student loans.” His famous dimples flashed as he added, “Take my advice. Insist on a back-end percentage of the box-office income rather than cash up front.”
She winced and confessed, “Actually, I could use some cash up front pretty desperately.”
“Hey, if you get in a cash flow bind what with having to replace your stuff, let me know, okay?”
“Thanks. So far, I’m good.” She’d promised herself this afternoon that she wouldn’t blast through the entire insurance check, but would save enough of it to cover her next student loan payment. She’d kept her promise to herself, barely.
“Enough talk of money. Rosie wanted me to tell you dinner will be ready at seven. And Gran wanted me to tell you she’s going out tonight. It’ll be just the two of us this evening.”
Just the two of— Uh-oh. She wasn’t going to be able to rely on Minerva’s nearness to end that scheduled make-out rehearsal.
“Got any trash I can haul downstairs for you?” Jackson offered.
“I guess so. Those bags over there.” Belatedly, she remembered to ask, “How’d the meeting with Adrian Turnow go? Did he like how my screen test went? At least up until I tried to break your nose?”
“Actually, he loved the part where you clocked me. Cracked him up.” Jackson scooped up the empty bags. “Until dinner, then.”
Dang it. Why did he have to sound so blasted suave and debonair? She could never match all that raging charm and raw sex appeal on-screen. Acting opposite a powerhouse like him was going to be a disaster. Before this crazy train got too far down the tracks, she had to pull the emergency brakes.
Aaron Steinburg her agent? Directed by Adrian Turnow? Leading lady to Jackson Prescott? Oh, yeah. This was sheer madness. Dinner. She’d tell Jackson at dinner that she couldn’t
do this film of his.
At about six o’clock, she started primping for dinner at seven. Which was totally unlike her. She went looking for moral support in a tube of mascara and, shockingly, found a little bit.
If only they weren’t going to be alone. Minerva’s presence would have deflected Jackson’s reaction to her pulling out of the film. He might be a dreamer, but she was not. Her entire life was based on pragmatic, hardheaded practicality. It was the only way she’d survived a dysfunctional family and dismal home life. It was how she’d recovered from nearly being murdered two years ago, and it was how she’d picked up the pieces of her life and gotten an education. A trade. A shot at a stable living.
She stopped putting on eyeliner and stared at herself in the mirror. Who was she trying to kid? She was backing out of this miraculous opportunity because she was scared out of her mind of failing. Spectacularly. And then there was her fear of Jackson himself. Heck, she hadn’t even had a date since the attack. The whole business of making small talk with strangers and praying the cute ones weren’t creepy stalkers made her more nervous than she could stomach.
She’d gotten it so very wrong the last time she actually got involved with a guy. It had landed her in the hospital and sent her into the martial arts training that had ultimately led to her attempt at a stunt career. Yup, that was her, the ole lemonade-out-of-lemons girl.
It had been great to fantasize about Jackson Prescott. But the reality of actually working and living with him...not so much. She couldn’t do this. The guy had shown up naked in her room last night for God’s sake, and she’d done her best to knock his head off before he’d finally subdued her.
Heck, she just hoped he didn’t go crazy when she broke the news to him that she couldn’t do this—no, wait. Tonight would be okay. Jackson was a dependable, safe, charge-to-the-rescue guy. He’d been nothing but kind to her so far. He was famous, for crying out loud. If he had creepy tendencies, the paparazzi would have caught him and outed him long before now, right? There would be a tell-all book or an exclusive interview on prime-time TV. Besides, he was strictly off-limits. He was the boss.
