He was standing on her rear patio when Dahlia slid the glass doors open and stepped outside, two cups of steaming coffee in hand. She passed a large mug in his direction, her eyes smiling as she welcomed him to her home.
“Good morning,” Dahlia said softly.
Guy leaned in and pressed a light kiss to her cheek, his lips lingering lovingly. “Good morning. This is beautiful,” he said, his gaze sweeping over the landscape before landing back on her smiling face. “Although not as beautiful as you,” he added.
Dahlia laughed, a soft chuckle that radiated from deep within her stomach. “You’re silver-tongued and we haven’t even had breakfast yet. What is a girl to do?”
Guy lifted his eyebrows in jest. “Just let a man do his magic,” he said playfully. “So, what’s for breakfast?”
She laughed again. “Whatever you’re cooking. I told you last night that I don’t cook.”
He shook his head. “A woman who doesn’t cook. Lord, have mercy!” he exclaimed, smiling brightly.
Dahlia stood with her hands on her hips, the sexy stance giving Guy reason to pause. Her hourglass figure tapered down to a slim waist and tight, rounded rear end and full hips. Her casual attire, a terry crewneck sweatshirt and matching shorts, showed off what even Guy could not fail to notice, a perfect bustline and a superb pair of legs. With her well-toned thighs and strong dancer’s calves it was clear that she took very good care of her body; every one of her curves was tight.
She was barefoot, her toenails painted a vibrant shade of pink. Her bare café au lait complexion was sun kissed, and she looked incredibly healthy and toned. Instead of her usual conservative updo, her luxurious hair cascaded over her shoulders, the lengthy, reddish-brown strands framing her delicate face nicely. Dahlia’s casual look was a striking contrast to the fashion-forward styling he’d become accustomed to seeing her in.
In that moment all Guy really wanted to do was to hold her in his arms like he’d held her the night before, to feel her body pressed tightly to his. He suddenly imagined what it might be like to have her naked before him, her flesh dancing hot against his own. As the lust-filled image clouded his thoughts there was little he could do to stall his want for her—it seeped from his eyes like water from a faucet.
Dahlia became visibly nervous as he stood staring at her intently, raging desire glazing his stare. With her knees beginning to shake ever so slightly, she wrapped her arms tightly around her torso. She cut her own gaze away from his and turned to stare out over her lawn. “Well, now,” she muttered beneath her breath.
Guy shook his head, attempting to remove the sensuous thoughts he was having about her from his mind. “Let me get the groceries out of the vehicle,” he said, quickly heading back in the direction of his car.
Dahlia watched as he strode confidently away from her. The testosterone in the air was palpable, his masculine aura like a thick blanket that had been wrapped around her shoulders.
Minutes later the two stood in Dahlia’s oversize kitchen as Guy explained the nuances of beating fresh eggs.
Dahlia laughed out loud. “Do you approach everything so methodically?” she asked.
He nodded. “One must be precise to achieve near perfection,” he answered.
She smiled sweetly as Guy gestured for her to take the whisk he held out.
“You want to whip air into them so they’ll fluff up when you cook them,” he said as he leaned to peer into the oven, eyeing a pan of biscuits inside.
As Dahlia began to beat the bowl of breakfast ingredients Guy shook his head. “Not so rough!” he exclaimed, stalling her hand with his own.
Guy moved in behind her, his body so close to hers that Dahlia would have sworn that she could feel the outline of every sinewy muscle of his broad chest pressing against her back. She took a swift breath, overwhelmed by the sensation of his sudden touch. Her body reacted with a mind of its own, her nipples blooming full beneath her top, the hardened buds pressing tight against the lining of her undergarment.
Her reaction seemed to encourage him. Guy moved even closer against her, cradling his pelvis tight against her buttocks. He nuzzled his face into her hair before whispering into her ear, “It’s always better when you take it slow and easy.” His voice dropped to a low murmur. She suddenly felt him harden in his slacks.
The heat wafting between them was combustible, drawing the air from her chest. Heat raged from the center of her feminine core, igniting a flame between them. It was suddenly so intense that Dahlia would have sworn that she’d stopped breathing and gone straight to heaven.
Dropping the cooking utensil into the bowl, she spun around in his arms. His lips were bent in the faintest of smiles and Dahlia was suddenly consumed with having them, wanting to taste him again. She lifted her face to his and kissed his full mouth. Their lips touched softly at first, then their tongues, both battling for dominance. Guy encircled his tongue with hers, and Dahlia yielded, moaning gently at the sensation. She sighed with pleasure as his hands came to a rest around her waist, his fingers sliding around to her buttocks as he pulled her tight against him. There was no denying that she loved the feeling of his hands on her. His hands were firm and strong, yet soft and gentle.
The moment was interrupted as Dahlia’s house phone rang sharply for attention. As quickly as she’d kissed him, she pulled away, gasping lightly for air. They locked gazes, both in awe of the sensations sweeping between them.
“You’re burning my breakfast,” Dahlia muttered as she moved to the other side of the room and reached to end the shrill ring echoing around the space. “Hello?”
Reaching for a pot holder, Guy pulled the biscuits from the oven, saving them from the trash bin by mere seconds. Taking a deep breath, he watched Dahlia while eavesdropping on her conversation. The delight that had previously painted her expression suddenly transformed into worry and anxiety, and it was apparent that something or someone had shifted her good mood drastically.
Dahlia dropped the receiver back onto the hook. Tossing him a quick look, she moved into her family room, grabbed the television remote and turned it on. Following behind her, Guy watched as she changed the channel, eagerly searching for something.
As Dahlia dropped the remote to the table the station’s commercial came to an end, flashing the station’s call sign across the screen. A much-beloved newscaster appeared on the monitor, promoting the morning’s entertainment news flash. Both Guy’s and Dahlia’s eyes widened as they stood and watched images of them together flashing across the screen; the newscaster’s narration filled the surround sound.
“In entertainment news, everyone is asking if Oscar darling Dahlia Morrow and actor Guy Boudreaux of the famed James Bond franchise are an item. There was no straight answer to be had from either’s camp this morning, so for now paparazzi photos of the two in a steamy embrace at dinner last night will have to speak for themselves. Spokespersons for both had no comment, but we certainly didn’t hear a no from anyone. The two have been spotted dining together more than once recently, and sources say this leading man may be starring in more than just Dahlia Morrow’s next film.”
The segment ended with a picture-perfect shot of Dahlia and Guy in the previous night’s lip-lock. The cohost of the segment chimed in with her own cheeky assessment as she fanned herself with her hand.
The two TV personalities laughed. “We’ll keep you posted. Up next, James Cameron takes a pass on directing the sequel to his blockbuster film, The Miracle Codes!”
Dahlia switched off the television as she sank into the cushions of her chenille sofa. Guy dropped down onto the seat beside her. Neither said a word as they sat staring into the blank television screen. Dahlia finally broke the silence.
“I’m sure this will all blow over in a day or so. But from this point forward we need to maintain a strictly professional relationship. I don’t want anything to inte
rfere with the production of my movie, and gossip about us will deter everyone from focusing on what’s important, and that’s Passionate.”
Guy nodded his head slowly. He shifted forward in his seat, his elbows resting against his thighs, his hands cupped together in front of him. He shifted his gaze to meet hers. “Is that what you really want?” he asked.
Dahlia took a deep breath. “It’s for the best.”
“I don’t agree,” Guy said. “I really like you, Dahlia, and I would like for us to get to know each other better. I think you feel the same way, or at least when I kissed you I did.” He dropped a gentle palm against her knee; his touch sent a shiver up her spine.
“I don’t know if what you or I might want is relevant. I have a movie to make, and right now that takes precedence over everything else. Even what I might want or might be feeling. And while I’m trying to make my movie a success I don’t need to be distracted because everyone else is focused on my personal life. So, from this point forward we will be nothing but professional with each other.”
Guy continued nodding, saying nothing. His hand was still pressed against her bare knee, gently kneading and caressing her flesh. There was nothing casual about the gesture—his touch was deliberate. Dahlia felt herself becoming aroused beyond measure. The sensation electrified her but also made her very nervous.
Guy leaned toward her and spoke gently into her ear. “No,” he said defiantly. He straightened his back, staring into her eyes.
His voice was quiet, his posture commanding, and Dahlia felt herself tense, something undeniably provocative about his breathy voice. “What do you mean ‘no’?”
“I mean no. I mean I want you and you want me and I don’t care what anyone thinks about it. I’m not going to let rumors or the press or your damn movie keep us from exploring just how far we can go. That’s what I mean.”
Dahlia shut her eyes tightly. She wanted to agree with him, but something inside was holding her back. Her eyes opened, and she shook her head hastily, needing to stall the wave of emotion flooding her spirit.
“You can take your hand off my leg now,” she said, hoping she sounded forceful and convincing. Hoping he couldn’t hear the wanting in her voice.
Guy gestured with his head. “I could,” he said as he continued to tease her, caressing her skin gently. “But you don’t want me to.” He slowly massaged her muscle, sweeping his fingers across her kneecap and up toward her midthigh.
Dahlia was desperate to say something, anything, but couldn’t. The words were lost to her. Her stomach was tied in knots, and she felt thrilled and petrified at the same time. Never before had she wanted any man’s touch as much as she suddenly wanted Guy’s.
As if he could read her mind Guy leaned over and kissed her, a soft, gentle glide of his lips over hers. Without a moment’s hesitation Dahlia found herself returning the kiss, wanting more, her hunger for him rising as if she were a woman who was starved for affection. And she was. She leaned into him as his fingers gently stroked her neck and his other arm snaked around her waist, drawing her tightly to him. Pulling his mouth from hers he moved his cheek against her cheek, caressing her flesh. He pressed a damp kiss behind her ear, tightening the hold he had around her as he wrapped both his arms tightly around her torso.
“What we will do is take it slow,” he said, his voice so suggestive that Dahlia could feel a tingle of energy run down her spine. “We’ll take it slow and focus on the movie, but we are not going to let this opportunity bypass us. Not until we both decide that it isn’t going to work out between us. Deal?”
Closing her eyes, Dahlia allowed herself to fall into his chest, easing into the warmth of his embrace. She couldn’t begin to fathom how they were going to make anything between them work, but she had to admit that she wanted to try. Because Guy was making her feel like she had never felt before. She finally responded. “Fine,” she whispered softly. “It’s a deal.”
The words brought a bright smile to Guy’s face. Lifting himself from the sofa, he extended his hand in her direction, pulling her to her feet. “We still have to finish breakfast. I’ll cook the eggs. You set the table,” he commanded as he kissed her cheek one last time before heading back to the kitchen.
Dahlia stared after him. A state of confusion washed over her face as she tried to make sense of what was happening, tried to figure out when she’d relinquished control to the man who was puttering around in her kitchen. Unable to discern an answer that made sense to her, she hesitantly followed behind him.
Chapter 11
As Guy pulled into the studio lot he noted the nameplate that marked his parking spot and grinned broadly. The first day of filming for Passionate had come faster than he’d realized. Almost two whole months had passed since he and Dahlia had negotiated their relationship. Two whole months since his life, and hers, had changed, the duo giving new meaning to the word slow.
His grin widened. As agreed, the two had been taking things slow, building a beautiful friendship. Despite the occasional speed bump, they’d been having a lot of fun together. Their friendship was only challenged when they found themselves alone, his lips pressed to hers, his body wanting more and Dahlia seeming to want more, too. There had been many a moment when he had wanted to toss caution right out the door, rip her clothes away and ravage her sexy body. But each time the thought crossed his groin, Dahlia had held him at bay, drawing a line in the sand that she adamantly refused to cross.
On more than one occasion he’d left her in frustration, a rock-hard erection like steel in his pants, every one of his nerve endings on fire. But Guy respected her wishes, not pushing for anything that she’d not been willing to give freely. Unfortunately, Dahlia was adamant about them not taking their relationship to a place of no return. She was also overly concerned with the media making more of their situation than was necessary. Despite his protests that no one would know what they were doing behind closed doors, Dahlia remained steadfast in her convictions. And despite his own desires and frustrations, Guy was determined to give her whatever her heart desired, even if she didn’t know what that was.
Guy felt right at home as he entered the studio. The stagehands were putting the final touches on the sets; teams of people bustled about. Guy saw Dahlia before she saw him, and he stood watching her as she bellowed out instructions, pointing everybody in the correct direction. She was impressive to watch, clearly in full and total control. It was an extremely sexy quality in a woman. As he thought about her, Guy felt his chest push forward with pride.
He’d stood staring for some time before he caught Dahlia’s eye and she waved excitedly, rushing to his side. Guy hugged her warmly as she threw herself into his arms, her exuberance igniting his own.
“You’re early!” she exclaimed, smiling brightly.
“I’m being professional,” he said as he kissed her cheek.
“Well, your costar arrived just minutes before you did. She’s already in hair and makeup. I’ll walk you down and introduce you,” she said.
Guy nodded as he trailed along beside her. “So do we know why our illustrious lead didn’t make it to the table reads?” Guy questioned.
Dahlia shrugged. “I’m discovering that your leading lady is a little temperamental.”
He rolled his eyes. “An actress with a diva attitude. Just what a movie needs!”
“She just requires a lot of attention. She likes to have her ego stroked. Tell her she looks great and she’ll be like putty in your hands.”
Guy laughed. “Do you really want another woman being putty in my hands?” he said as he pressed a warm palm against the center of her back.
Dahlia shook her head. “I’ll make an exception for this woman as long as you both deliver on film.”
With a raised brow, Guy nodded but said nothing, intuition telling him that the next few weeks with the film star would prove
to be more of a challenge than he could ever begin to anticipate.
Zahara Ginolfi was a fountain of complaints when Dahlia and Guy entered the space that would serve as her trailer for the duration of the film. The stylist who’d been hired to work with her was visibly frazzled, not having expected to be inundated with a wealth of unhappy so early in the morning. And Zahara Ginolfi was clearly unhappy.
“It’s a horrible color,” Zahara whined. “I can’t wear red. Red will wash out my complexion. You’ll have to do better than that!” she exclaimed, snatching the dress from the other woman’s hands and throwing it on the floor.
Dahlia shook her head as she reached down to pick the garment up. “You don’t get a say in wardrobe,” she intoned. “Maybe on our next film together but definitely not this one.”
“Well, I should,” Zahara pouted. She reached for a cigarette from the pack that rested on the makeup table and then pulled a box of matches from a nearby drawer.
Reaching out, Dahlia eased the tobacco stick from her fingers. “There’s no smoking here. This is a smoke-free facility. Sorry.”
Zahara rolled her eyes back into her head, throwing the box of matches to the floor. “Unbelievable!” she exclaimed loudly as she snatched the cigarette back. “Do you know who I am?”
Dahlia took a deep breath and ignored the woman’s tantrum. She gestured in Guy’s direction. “Zahara, I want to introduce you to—”
Before Dahlia could complete her sentence Zahara leaped from her seat, eagerly extending her hand toward Guy’s. “Guy Boudreaux. What a pleasure! I’m so excited to be working with you.”
Guy held her hand gently, his fingers caressing the palm. He then leaned down to press a light kiss to the back of it. “The pleasure is mine, Zahara. I have a good feeling about us,” he said, his bright eyes staring into hers.
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