Authors: Inara Scott
“It isn’t funny,” Lena snapped. “Why do you have to try to
turn everything into a joke?”
“So I don’t kill you,” he replied calmly, though a muscle
jumped in his cheek.
“Didn’t you say we were wrapping early today?” Lena asked
Ryker. “I have some calls I need to make.”
“Fine.” Ryker sighed. He introduced her briefly to the row
of people behind him. She nodded and waved at each, knowing she’d never
remember their names. “Now, you can all go, except Amir.” He pointed to a
dark-skinned lanky man with a goatee and row of hoops protruding from his
eyebrow. “Alix, this is my assistant director, Amir Madani.” Amir grunted
amiably at Alix. Ryker continued, “Amir, I need Gunther’s viewing room set up
with those clips we talked about earlier today. And make sure Alix has a car
and hotel information. Eight a.m. call, Jake and Lena.” He shook a threatening
finger at the two of them. “I expect something much better tomorrow,
understand?”
Lena started to reply, but evidently the thundercloud on
Ryker’s face convinced her otherwise. She nodded and flounced off the set.
Jake shook his head. “Glad to have you here, Alix. Hope
you don’t mind if I corner you sometime to ask about your films. I really am a
fan.”
“It would be my pleasure.”
Jake waved and headed out the door.
Alix swallowed as one by one, the rest of the group
followed him out. Finally, she was alone with Ryker. She squared her shoulders.
She was in a movie studio, for heaven’s sake. It wasn’t as if he was going to
make a pass at her here. Especially not when she was wearing a gray T-shirt
that was two sizes too big for her and jeans that ended somewhere around the
ankle.
Ryker surveyed her, his attention lingering on her
glasses. “I’m not sure which I liked better, the gigantic sunglasses or those
monsters. Pilfer them from your grandfather’s closet, by any chance?”
“I have a very strong prescription,” she snapped. “I spend
enough on the lenses; I don’t need to spend more on the frames.”
“Of course.”
She turned away from his probing stare and made a point of
walking around the set. “So this is Salva’s apartment? Looks about right.
Middle-class comfort, with a touch of desperation.”
“You read the script.”
“Of course. I liked it. But you didn’t tell me our leads
were at each other’s throats. It doesn’t take an
expert
to see that.”
She picked up a heavy glass ashtray and hefted it in one hand, feeling the
weight. Later in the film, Salva would use it to knock out an aggressor. It was
good to know Ryker was paying attention to details.
She stole a glance over her shoulder. He was intent,
staring at her back as if he expected to find the answer to some mystery there.
With a tight shake of the head, he refocused on her face.
“This is the worst I’ve seen them. They’ve been bickering from the start, but
it’s getting uglier by the day. I thought they’d be able to get past it. I
guess I was wrong.”
“Get past what?”
“Jake and Lena? You don’t know their history?”
She sat down on the sofa. “Nope. Should I?” Thanks to
Gunther, she was actually more up to date on Hollywood gossip than she wanted
to be. But she had no intention of letting Ryker know that. Besides, it would
be interesting to hear his version of the story.
Ryker barked a laugh. “I suppose I should have expected
that. Jake and Lena were a serious item about ten years ago, when he was still
a model and she had just made her first feature. The tabloids had them secretly
married, or at least engaged. But then Jake got caught with a wardrobe girl
from one of his modeling gigs. The break-up was nasty, to say the least.”
“And you cast them as lovers?” Alix raised a skeptical
eyebrow. “That hardly seems wise.”
He brushed aside her words. “They’ve been in a couple of
movies together since then and did fine. Besides, Lena’s perfect for the role—she’s
at a crossroad in her career, right on the cusp of being recognized for her
acting and not just her looks, and Salva’s at the same crossroad. She realizes
in the film that she’s relied on her looks all her life, and that doesn’t work
with this guy.”
“Hmm. You said they were in a couple of movies together.
Were they romantic leads?”
Ryker paused, considering the question before he answered.
“One was an ensemble piece. They were a couple, though to be honest, there
wasn’t any serious onstage affection. In the other, they were both married but
kept up a flirtation through the film. Their chemistry was exceptional. I
didn’t think their past would be an issue.”
“I would call what we just witnessed an issue.”
He flopped down on the sofa next to her. He looked tired,
the lines around his eyes more pronounced than the last time she’d seen him. He
dropped his head on the back of the couch. “That’s putting it mildly.”
“So we’ve got thirty days to get two people who hate each
other to make hot, sweaty love for the camera, and make it believable and
emotional?”
Ryker closed his eyes. “That’s about it. Oh, and did I
mention I want the Oscar this time?”
“I seem to recall something about that.”
“Well, in case I wasn’t clear, let me say it again.” He
turned his head to study her. “I want that Oscar. Understand?”
The intensity of his gaze trapped her. She nodded mutely.
Abruptly, his expression changed, and he said with an easy
smile, “But enough about that. Are you ready for dinner?”
“I thought Amir was setting up some scenes for us to
watch.” She put her hands in her lap and tried to ease the rest of her body farther
away without catching his attention.
Amusement flared in his eyes. He leaned toward her. “They
can wait. I don’t want to look at anything related to
Salva’s Revenge
for at least two hours. We’ll have an early dinner and watch the clips later.
Don’t worry, I’ll still get you to bed at a reasonable hour.”
Every word from his mouth seemed like some kind of sexual
innuendo. He was close enough now that she could smell a hint of spicy cologne
and feel the warmth radiating from his skin.
She resisted the urge to jump up from the sofa. “I’d like
to check into my hotel, if that’s okay. Get settled a bit.”
“Fine with me. That will give you time to change into
something a little more…hmm.” He curved his fingers around the frayed edge of
her T-shirt. “More, feminine, shall we say?”
Alix grabbed the fabric from his hand. “I’m not one of
your actresses,” she said. “There’s a reason I’ve made my career on the other
side of the camera.”
“But that’s just it. I’ve seen you without the glasses,
remember? You’re beautiful. Just as attractive as any of my actresses.” He took
one of her hands and slid his fingers around her wrist, taking their measure
with his thumb and forefinger. “Fine bones. I take back what I said about you
being like a Labrador. That’s just what you want people to believe. I think
there’s a greyhound hidden somewhere beneath all these clothes.”
She tugged at her wrist, but he didn’t let go. “I think
you’ve got an active imagination.” A quiver of reluctant pleasure tightened her
stomach as she took in his words. He was too sensual, too damn intelligent to
be shrugged off like she expected. “Where do we eat?”
Just as the tingles from her wrist were growing into
electric currents, he released her. She fell into the cushions and rubbed her
wrist.
She hadn’t been with a man for a very, very long time.
Perhaps that explained why her body was demanding that she fall into Ryker’s
arms without a second thought.
“I’ve got reservations at Tiger Lily’s, in West Hollywood.
It’s a long drive, but lately it’s the only place I can go and not be
bothered.”
Alix grimaced. She had forgotten that they were in
Hollywood now, and Ryker Valentine was a household name. There would be
reporters, paparazzi, and pictures. She hated pictures. She would be the
“unknown guest” accompanying Ryker to dinner. Tabloids would speculate as to
who she was and why they were together. Though she had avoided pictures when
her movies were released, a few always slipped out. Eventually someone would
connect her face with the name Alix Z. And then the stories would get even
racier.
Something of the horror of the situation must have shown
in her face, because Ryker cocked his head in surprise. “It’s part of the game,
Alix. You know that. They’ll take a few pictures, gossip about it for a few
weeks, and then it will be forgotten.”
“Of course you’d say that. Every time someone gossips
about you, your asking price goes up ten grand.”
He shrugged. “That’s the way the business works. If you
can’t handle a little gossip, you can’t handle Hollywood.”
Alix gritted her teeth. She
couldn’t
handle
Hollywood. That was precisely why she’d left. “Fine. But I’d prefer to arrive
separately. Call Tiger Lily’s and describe me for them, but don’t give my name.
I’d like to try to keep out of the press if I can. I’ll meet you there at six?”
He didn’t move from the sofa, just studied her with that
inscrutable black gaze. “All right,” he said finally. “But if you really want
to draw attention to yourself, wear that outfit. They’ll love it.”
“Ryker, darling! So lovely to see
you.” Tiger Lily’s was a tiny restaurant with only a handful of tables, located
on the edge of West Hollywood and Beverly Hills. Everything in the restaurant
had been designed for privacy and comfort, from the silky gold drapes covering
the tall windows to the private tables, each with its own flickering candle.
Its host and namesake, a leggy blonde with velvety brown eyes, was the daughter
of a Mitch Lily, a well-known director and producer. Tiger Lily had the fortune
to know most of her clientele well before she opened and used her familiarity
with the movie scene to quickly make her establishment a favorite among those
more interested in a good meal than a night of seeing and being seen.
Tiger kissed Ryker on both cheeks before leading him to
his favorite table, tucked into a dimly lit corner in the back of the room.
“Is my friend here yet?” he asked.
“Not yet.” If she noticed that he hadn’t left a name for
his companion, she was far too discreet to mention it. “I’ll keep my eye out
for her.” She seated him at the table and handed him the piece of handmade
paper that served as a menu. At Tiger Lily’s, the menu changed daily, depending
on what sort of fresh produce and seafood were available. “She’s about five
foot one or two, you said? Brown hair, glasses?”
Ryker nodded. “She’s a bit shy, so please don’t advertise
the fact that we’re together, if you know what I mean.”
She gave him an understanding pat on the shoulder. “No
problem. I’ll take good care of her.”
Ryker picked up a water glass and took a long drink. He
wondered what Daisy would wear to dinner. A fifties housedress? A burlap sack?
He’d never seen such an attractive woman look as unkempt as she’d looked today.
That T-shirt…those pants…and the glasses. A smile crossed his face. They were a
stroke of genius. There was something defiant about the whole outfit, like she
was determined to prove something by making herself as unattractive as
possible.
His smile faded as he recalled the atmosphere she’d walked
into. Lena and Jake had been in rare form, and he was at the end of his rope,
barking out orders like a general. Daisy had clearly been dismayed by the
scene. He wondered how tomorrow would go. As sexy as her films were, he simply
couldn’t imagine her on the set, interacting with the actors and convincing
everyone of her vision. He only hoped Gunther wouldn’t be disappointed if she
wasn’t effective.
He heard Tiger greet someone in front. “He’s in back.
Follow me.”
“Thanks.”
Ryker turned in his seat, unable to keep his mouth from
dropping open when he saw the transformation. Alix’s long hair fell loose
around her shoulders, sparkling with color from golden brown to strawberry to
chestnut. The glasses were gone, and her eyes, surrounded by thick dark lashes,
glittered in the dim restaurant light.
She wore a clingy, emerald green dress the exact color of
her eyes. Spaghetti straps exposed lightly tanned shoulders, and a pair of full
breasts swayed as she walked. The dress hit her at mid-thigh, exposing sleek
legs and sculpted calves above impossibly high silver heels. She moved like a
fairy, floating above the ground with her silver shoes and leafy-green dress.
“Ryker,” she murmured.
For a moment, he was too stunned to move. Tiger Lily
cleared her throat quietly and then faded into the background. Ryker continued
to stare at Daisy until he realized she was waiting for him to rise and greet
her. With a quick mental shake, he took her golden elbow in his hands and
leaned forward to press a kiss on each cheek.
“Daisy.” His lips burned where they met her flesh, and he
had to catch himself from trailing his lips down the hollow of her neck. He
breathed deeply of her smell, earthy and musky, and an unexpected sensation
rippled from his stomach to his groin.
She froze. “Alix,” she snapped. “My name is Alix. I
thought I made it clear that I leave Daisy behind when I come to LA.”
“Of course. I wasn’t thinking. My apologies.” He gestured
toward her dress. “You changed, I see.”
“I decided you were right. I’d attract less attention like
this. If anyone sees us, they’ll think I’m one of your usual tarts. They won’t
bother to investigate.” She surveyed the room, hand on hip. With perfect ease,
she gave a regal smile to the few who caught her eye, and then sank into the
seat across from his, where the candlelight caught fire in the thick gold hoop
earrings that tangled in her hair.
“You’ve done this before,” he accused, ignoring the
slight. “Where did you get that dress?”
She shrugged. “Gunther and I go out when I’m in town. I
have a few dresses that I bring when I come to LA.”