by Cindy Dees
A thunderous realization struck her. Maybe that was why she was so stuck on him. He was safe to like. No way could there ever be anything between them. He was a movie star who blasted through women like rocket fuel—women totally different from her. And, he was apparently an honorable and conscientious boss. Yup, a nonstarter as a love interest.
More nervous than she could believe at having to quit this job, she randomly picked one of the half dozen dresses that had appeared like magic in her armoire while she was out today. Minerva really was quite the schemer, loading her up on feminine, sexy clothes like this. Too bad it was all for naught.
The dress Ana chose was short and sassy, its wispy, floaty material skimming the tops of her thighs. It was more girly than anything she’d ever worn before. By a lot.
It was pale silver-gray that made her caramel tan and blue eyes pop like crazy. Her hair even looked more blond in contrast. It was as if the garment had been made for her. She had a hard time believing Minerva had bought this hot little number for herself. One of the spaghetti straps slipped off her shoulder, and she pushed it back up nervously. This dress was too much. She should default to the jeans she’d bought today and one of the simple T-shirts she’d picked up.
She glanced at her cell phone and gaped at the time. Crud. Five till seven. No time to change. She would just have to brazen it out in this outfit.
Her feet dragged as she descended one of the grand staircases. She hated to disappoint Jackson and she dreaded his reaction to her announcement. Her father tended to react first with his fists. She prayed Jackson wasn’t the same.
When she rounded the corner into the family room, she stopped in her tracks. Jackson was wearing tailored slacks and a polo shirt that clung to every powerful muscle in his back. He looked every inch the movie star that he was. His hands were jammed in his pockets and he stared out at the sea, which was a brilliant orange as the sun, low in the west, bled across its glassy surface.
He must have caught her reflection in the window because he turned around as she stepped fully into the room. “Wow. You look great, Ana.”
“Thanks. You don’t clean up too bad, yourself. You know,” she commented lightly, “you might make a half-decent leading man.”
He smiled wryly in response. The swelling in his eye had come down and only a little purple around it announced that she’d clobbered him yesterday. His nose was still swollen, but he wore the hawk-nosed look better than any man had a right to.
He asked, “Would you like to eat inside or out? Rosie set both the dining room table and the one on the veranda. She wants to serve dinner before she leaves and needs to know where to take the food.”
“Outside if you don’t mind.” Frankly, she was feeling a little claustrophobic around him and all his flesh impact. No need to close herself indoors if she didn’t have to.
He nodded and stepped into the kitchen. While he was gone, Ana used the time to breathe deeply and slowly. Not that it helped her nerves one tiny little bit. She could do this. It was just dinner. A business discussion. And then he’d throw her out on her can. As unappealing as that was, it was better than the alternative. Yup, staying here and making out with a famous celebrity hunk would suck....
Hoo baby. Her breathing accelerated and her pulse jumped like crazy as he stepped back into the family room. She spun on the platform sandals Minerva had left for her and, on cue, tripped. He made a quick grab for her that kept her from face-planting on the floor at his feet.
Her face hot, she mumbled, “Great reflexes you’ve got there.”
He chuckled. “Walk much, Grace?”
“Yup, and I hope to jump off tall buildings and play with explosives for fun someday,” she retorted.
His smile lingered as he offered her his forearm. “Shall we?”
She stared down at his arm’s muscular sculpting and light covering of sun-bleached hair. Oh. Right. The girl was supposed to take the guy’s arm. She wasn’t accustomed to chivalrous male behavior, and certainly not from her boss. Who looked totally hot.
She laid her palm on his arm and was chagrined to feel her hand trembling. Please, please, please let him not notice it.
“You okay?” he murmured low.
He noticed, dammit. Too flummoxed to think up a lie, she admitted, “You make me nervous.”
“Good nervous or bad nervous?”
“Both.”
He held her chair for her and pushed it in as she sank into it. “Why bad nervous?” he asked as he sat down in the chair beside hers.
“Long story.”
“We’ve got all night.”
He poured her a generous glass of wine and she took a big gulp to fortify herself. “I haven’t had great luck with men over the years.”
“Hard to fathom that.”
“It’s true. I went out with a guy a few years ago who tried to kill me.”
“What?” Jackson lurched forward in his seat. “Jeez. And I thought women constantly trying to trap me into marrying them was rough.”
She shrugged. “He didn’t rape me or anything. He just tried to strangle me. His buddy was driving and we were in the back of a pick-up truck. I managed to get loose long enough to fall out onto the road. Hit my head. Knocked me out. Luckily, a car stopped to help before he could stuff me back in the truck and finish the job.”
“Christ.” He took a big gulp of wine. “How did you end up in the movie business?”
She shrugged. “After the attack, I went looking for training in how to defend myself and how to get out of a moving car safely. It led me to some stunt classes, and here I am, a wannabe stuntwoman.”
“So you really weren’t interested in landing an acting role when you auditioned yesterday?”
“Well, a girl can always dream. But I’m totally unquali—
He cut her off briskly. “Let’s not talk business. Rosie’s enchiladas are best eaten hot.” He served her a plateful of chicken enchiladas smothered in a cream sauce to die for. If she was not mistaken, he’d sensed where she was going with that last remark and had derailed the conversation intentionally. What was up with that?
“How are you not the size of a house with food like this to eat?” she demanded a little while later.
“Lots and lots of exercise,” he replied, grinning.
The sun blinked below the horizon, and the glow of the pillar candle in its glass globe on the table took over lighting their meal. The ocean murmured and chuckled quietly below and the setting was so romantic she could hardly bear it.
Jackson pushed his plate back and took an appreciative sip of his wine. “So, I met with Adrian today.”
“And?”
“He loved your screen test. He’s fully on board with bringing you in as the female lead.”
“Seriously?” she blurted, startled.
Jackson frowned. “Is it so far-fetched to believe that you might have talent and that he and I might have spotted it?”
She had no idea what to say to that. Silence fell between them, filled only by the rhythmic wash of the ocean.
“I’ll admit it’s a calculated risk to hire an inexperienced unknown for a major movie. But I want to make a movie that’s never been seen before. That means faces that have never been seen before.”
“I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Your instincts during your audition and screen test were spot on. Trust them.”
Trust her instincts? The same instincts that led her to go out with a murderous psychopath? The instincts that led her to panic when Jackson had put his hands around her neck? That wasn’t acting. That was real.
“Jackson, I can’t act. I don’t know how to put it any more clearly than that.”
“Want in on a little trade secret? Very few actors can act.”
“But—”
He waved off her protest. “I don’t act. I find truth—a piece of myself—in every character I portray. Then, I’m just that part of myself on-screen.”
He wasn’t listening to her. It wasn’t just about the acting. It was about fear. Insecurity. Complete lack of faith in her instincts. Frustrated, she tried, “What does Adrian think of having a rank amateur forced upon him?”
Jackson grinned. “He says he can teach a chimpanzee to act if it will do what he tells it to. He’s pretty adamant about wanting you. He saw something in you, and he wants to start shooting immediately. We can go into full-blown production as early as next week.”
“What kind of acting will this role entail?”
“Dialogue. A few love scenes. Several fight scenes. A fair bit of green-screen work. Adrian’s gonna do CGI enhancements in postproduction to make us look alien instead of messing around with a lot of prosthetics and makeup.”
That was a relief. She’d heard horror tales of actors spending hour upon grueling hour in the makeup chair for a few seconds of camera time. It dawned on her abruptly that she was actually considering going through with this insanity. How had he managed to deflect all her arguments?
“I don’t want to let you down,” she tried. “I can’t have a huge movie depending on me. You can’t depend on me.”
He was out of his chair and kneeling beside her before she could blink. “You won’t be alone. I’ll be with you. And Adrian is the best in the business. He will teach you what you need to know, and he’ll get the performance out of you that he needs. I promise. Just trust him. Trust me.”
“I suck at trust.”
“You’ve got good cause. But I’m not homicidal.”
She stared at his face, so open, so earnest. So...real. Was he acting? Or was this the real man giving her actual honesty? God. If only she could tell. She whispered, “How do I start to trust you?”
“In acting classes, we do trust exercises. Maybe we could try a few of those.”
“Do I have to fall backward into your arms and let you catch me?” she asked skeptically.
He smiled. “Well, that’s a classic, but no. You don’t have to fall into my arms.”
“It might help if we knew more about each other,” she suggested.
“You mean like those ‘your lover’s favorite things’ quizzes in magazines?”
Her lips twitched humorously. “You read women’s magazines?”
He snorted. “No. I get interviewed for them. And I check out my articles when they’re published.”
Her lips broke over into a full-blown smile. “That’s your story and you’re sticking to it, I gather.”
“Darn tootin’, I am.”
“So how does this work? Should we come up with a list of questions? Stuff we’d want to know about each other if we were dating?”
“Sure.”
Silence fell between them as her mind went completely, totally, blue-screen-of-doom blank. What on earth would she ask him if she was dating him? She’d read the women’s magazine articles about him already. When’s your birthday, Jackson? Oh, wait, she knew that one. July 4th. How could anyone forget that? What’s your favorite color? Nope, she knew that one, too. Same as hers. Green. What’s your favorite food? Barbecue chicken pizza and a cold beer. Hobbies? Working on and riding his Harley.
How about, what on earth do you see in me as a woman? That one would send him screaming for the hills.
Freaking out, she changed subjects in barely contained panic. “Is there a script for this movie of yours?”
“I can have Adrian send over the working draft for you to read tomorrow.”
“Is it good?”
Her gaze snapped to his. His hazel eyes were grim. Determined. “It had better be. The future of our company depends on it.”
Gee. No pressure there. All her doubts came flooding back, threatening to drown her.
“Don’t make that face,” Jackson warned. “You’re doing this movie, and that’s that. End of discussion.”
“But why?”
“Because Adrian and I agree you’re the best person for the job. And we both know what we’re doing.”
“So I’m gonna be in the movies, huh?” she muttered.
Relief relaxed his features into the handsome face women the world over knew and loved. “Looks that way, kid.”
Wow. “Now what?”
“Now I take you inside because I can see the goose bumps on your arms from over here, and then we practice making out and building some trust.”
Dammit, did he have to be so blasted single-minded? He was already back to the making-out thing. She looked back at the house in alarm. “What about Rosie?”
“She left right after she brought out the flan. Went to see a movie with her sister. Won’t be back for hours.”
“I’d accuse those two women of throwing us together if they were here.”
He rolled his eyes. “You would not be wrong.”
“I’d be scared silly of going inside with you if this weren’t just business,” she confessed with a shaky laugh.
An expression of...surprise, maybe, or perhaps that was determination...crossed his face. He stood up and held his hand out to her. “C’mon. This won’t be so bad. I promise I won’t try to strangle you.”
“Gee. Thanks.” Then why did she feel like he was leading her to her freaking doom?
Her knees all but knocked together as she stood up. He was a trim man, but he was also strong, athletic and a lot bigger than her. If this making-out thing went psycho, there was no way she could fight him off. Had their fight scene two days ago been real, he’d have killed her. Easily.
The house’s warmth was comforting. Like a badly needed hug. He picked up a remote control, and quiet music floated out of unseen speakers, as tranquil as the ocean below. He came to stand behind her as she stared unseeing out the big windows, and ran his palms lightly up and down her arms.
“I know I’m asking a lot of you. Doing this film with me is going to push you way outside your comfort zone. Especially after you told me about that attack. But the film needs you. I need you.”
She was already way outside her comfort zone, but not in the scared way he meant. She’d had no idea she could be this attracted to any man. Not even a hunk like Jackson Prescott. All these girly feelings roiling around in her gut were totally foreign to her. “I got over the attack a long time ago.” If you could call walking away from all men and never looking back being over it. “My attacker has been in a mental institution for years and won’t get out for a very long time, if ever.”
“Still. If you ever need protection or don’t want to be alone late at night when the boogeyman comes calling, you call me. Anytime, day or night.”
“That’s very sweet of you.”
“I’ve got your back. Understood?”
She smiled gratefully at his reflection in the glass. “Thanks. Really.”
His reflection smiled back at her, and something melted inside her. Was he as heroic as the characters he played in the movies? Her own smile faded as it dawned on her that maybe she was projecting pretend characters onto the real man. How was she supposed to separate the two?
As she stared at his transparent reflection, a frown of concentration took over his forehead. He announced, “After what you told me about being attacked, I think you should take the lead tonight. I don’t want to scare you.”
“I don’t know exactly what I’m supposed to do here,” she mumbled, flummoxed.
“Well, you can start by giving me a hug.”
That sounded innocuous enough. Okay. She could do that. A little in disbelief that she was hugging a movie star, she looped her arms around his waist. His arms came around her in a loose circle, and her head naturally came to rest on his chest. His heart thudded
slow and steady beneath her ear. Gently, he tightened the embrace until she was plastered against his muscular chest.
“This is nice,” she admitted.
“Yes. It is.”
She gulped against his soft shirt. “Now what?”
“Tilt your chin up. Smile a little at me. And, when you’re ready, invite me to kiss you.”
She glanced up at him sidelong, shy. “Like this?”
“The woman is a born flirt. You sure you haven’t had acting lessons?”
It wasn’t hard to act like she wanted him to kiss her when she’d been secretly fantasizing about it for years. She shrugged and let a little more heat creep into her come-hither gaze.
He crooked a finger lightly under her chin and lifted her mouth to his. He leaned down and brushed his lips across hers once, twice. His mouth touched hers lightly, and it was as if he paused, waiting for her to signal that it was okay to continue. Her nervousness sloughed away. This was Jackson. Sweet, safe, responsible Jackson who’d been frantic at the hospital and had kissed her last night like he really gave a damn about her. The same Jackson who bolted into her bedroom naked to save her from a nightmare.
She kissed his delicious mouth experimentally, savoring its warmth and firmness while he stood still and let her do whatever she wanted to it. Eventually, though, something restless unfolded inside her.
“Kiss me back,” she finally muttered.
His mouth surged against hers, taking over the kiss in an instant. She’d had no idea how tightly he’d been holding himself back until he loosed the reins of his control. His arms tightened around her, lifting her against his strength and size. She stood on tiptoe as her arms crept up and slid around his neck. He felt good against her, all hard and protective and sexy hot.
Something crackled abruptly between them. Not heat. Not electricity. Something sharper. A driving need that vibrated all the way to her core. She reveled in the hardness of him against her belly. The way he pressed her hips more closely against him. The way his hands roamed her back in search of...something.
