Let's Misbehave (7 page)

“Yes, ma’am.” She obediently sat across from the actress.

“Do you see what’s going on in this picture?” Imogen held the screen up again.

Holly looked again. “He looks like he’s leaning toward you.”

“Precisely! And because it
looks
like he’s leaning, the tabloids are all over it.”

“Who is he?” she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“The caption says Merrick Graham, bad boy politician.” Imogen glared at the photo. “This conversation was perfectly innocent. I didn’t even know his name. The photo just makes it
look
like there were sparks.”

Holly stretched forward to look one more time. She could tell there was definitely something happening between them, even from the small image. Knowing better than to contradict the person she was working for, she nodded. “Uh-huh.”

Imogen gave her a flat look. “That didn’t sound as reassuring as I’d like.”

“I’m not sure being reassuring is part of my job description.”

“It should be,” the actress said with a faint pout.

She bit her lip, trying to come up with something appropriate to say. Finally, she shook her head. “Do you want me to lie?”

“Has it come to that already?”

Holly shrugged. “Honestly, it looks like there
were
sparks.”

“Damn it.” The actress made a face. “That’s unfortunate.”

“Don’t you like him?” Holly asked uncertainly.

“I like him too much. I just didn’t want anyone one else to know.” Sighing, she tossed her phone next to the book on the table. Then she aimed her intense blue eyes at Holly. “I don’t want you here.”

Holly blinked, not sure what to say.

“It’s nothing personal, but I don’t need the studio to send someone to babysit me.”

She cleared her throat, trying to look like she knew what she was doing. “I’m not here to babysit you.”

Imogen’s brow rose in mocking disbelief.

“That’s impressive,” Holly said. “I’ve never been able to raise my eyebrows like that. It’s quite the effective statement, isn’t it?”

Imogen rolled her eyes. “Let’s stop the act, shall we?”

“What act, Ms. Summerhill?”

“Imogen, please, and give me some credit for knowing what’s going on. Everyone acts.” She looked straight at her. “You’re acting now.”

“I am,” she agreed with a nod. Then, because she figured she had nothing to lose she decided to go with the truth. “I have no idea what I’m doing here. The studio sent me here to help you prepare for your next role, and to handle your media presence, but I’ve never done any of that. The thing is, this is a good opportunity for me. They said if I do well with you, they’ll give me a promotion.”

“Do you have a sick mother somewhere that you take care of?”

Holly shook her head. “My parents don’t talk to me. I had a boy when I was young, and they disapproved.”

Something flickered behind Imogen’s eyes. “How old is your son now?” she asked finally.

“Six.”

“He’s an angel, I’m sure.”

Holly burst out laughing. “Not even gypsies will take him.”

“You love him,” Imogen said softly.

“With my whole being.” She took a deep breath. “I want to send him to a school for gifted children, but I can’t afford it. But if I get this promotion it’ll be so much easier to scrimp and save for it.”

Fist under her chin, Imogen stared at her for a long time. Holly had no idea what was going through the actress’s mind.

Finally, Imogen said, “I respect my privacy. I know they want me to be more prominent in the news, but I pick what’s featured. I’m trying to sanitize my image. Am I clear? I won’t stand for any scandals.”

“Noted.” She’d worry about how she’d do that part of her job later. Now she needed to gain Imogen’s cooperation. “This job is important to me. I won’t fuc—mess it up.”

“No, you won’t.” Smiling, Imogen held out her hand. “Welcome, Holly.”

Smiling, Holly reached for the actress’s hand—

And knocked over the bottle of Pellegrino.

“
Shit
.” She grabbed the book on the table before it was completely doused in sparkling water and wiped it on her skirt. “So sorry. I’ll just—”

“Holly?”

She glanced up.

“It’s just water. It’ll dry.” Imogen stood, taking her hand and drawing her to her feet. “And now our new relationship is anointed, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” She smiled, grateful for Imogen’s grace.

Holly floated all the way to Jamie’s school on a cloud of hope. The future looked so much brighter than it had twenty-four hours ago. She couldn’t decide whether to jump in the air and yawp in triumph or put her head down and weep in relief.

“Holly.”

She whirled, surprised to hear Peter Sands’s voice.

He smiled crookedly as he walked toward her. His hair was mussed, like it always was, and he wore a leather jacket. The only way he could have been better was shirtless, maybe riding through the surf on the back of a horse.

When she’d been a kid, she’d always thought having sex on a beach would be so thrilling. Now any sex would be thrilling, as long as it was with someone other than herself.

“Here to pick up the kid?” he asked, reaching her side.

“Yes.” She stuck her hands in her coat pockets so she wouldn’t be tempted to grab him and beg him to take her. “I probably shouldn’t say this, but I’m grateful he had this after-school punishment.”

“Most parents curse me.”

Most parents weren’t raising a child alone. “It gave me a little space. I was sent on a new assignment today.”

“What sort?” he asked, sounding interested. “You know, I don’t even know what you do normally.”

“I work for a movie studio, mostly doing odd office work. But they just offered me a promotion handling a major movie star. I went to meet her today.” She beamed, hugging her arms to keep from impulsively throwing them around him.

“Congratulations.” He reached out and touched her shoulder. Only it wasn’t a touch—it was a caress. He
lingered
.

She froze, stunned by the feel of his hand on her. No man had touched her in years—seven to be exact. Except for the time a man had grabbed her arse at the Italian restaurant where she’d done a brief stint before going to work at the studio. That probably didn’t count though.

She found herself leaning toward Peter. He smelled so good. She inhaled as surreptitiously as she could, not wanting to seem like she was sniffing him.

“Mum!” Jamie burst out of a room and ran down the hall toward them.

She jerked away from Peter, feeling like she’d been caught kissing in a closet. She glanced at him, sure she’d imagined the whole thing.

But he watched her steadily, his gaze on her like he was imaging stripping off her clothes.

She gasped, shocked, excited—feeling a million things she knew she shouldn’t feel.

“Mum! I got to clean the whiteboards.” Jamie ran into her and held up his palms, which were smudged with different colors. “I did it with my hands.”

She had to clear the lust from her throat before she could reply. “Why don’t you go wash? And then we can go get ice cream to celebrate my new job.”

Jamie faced Peter. “Are you going to wash your hands, too?”

He looked at Holly. “Am I invited to join this private celebration?”

Her cheeks flushed, trying not to picture the sort of private celebration she’d like to have. “Yes, please come,” she said, her voice a shade too breathy.

He chuckled.

Oh hell—that had sounded completely sex-crazed, hadn’t it? She put her hands to her blazing cheeks.

Winking at her, he put a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “I guess I better wash my hands, too, then.”

Peter suggested getting cones and enjoying them in a nearby park. They walked with Jamie skipping between them. It was hard not to imagine that this was what a family would look like.

When they reached the park, she and Peter sat on a bench while Jamie ran around and got ice cream all over himself.

“I should probably make him sit and be proper,” she said, watching him run circles around them, “but I remember how much I hated being told to do that.”

“I don’t think it’s in his nature to sit and be proper,” Peter said dryly.

She laughed, facing him. “You’d know it as well as I do.”

“He’s a good boy, Holly. You don’t have to worry about him.”

“But I do,” she said softly. There was so much to worry about. Whether she’d be able to afford school, or even just trainers and jeans. And what if something happened to her? What would become of Jamie? Her parents weren’t interested in either one of them.

Peter touched her hand. “I lost you.”

She stilled, startled by his touch on her skin. She looked up at him.

His expression sobered. He glanced at her lips. “Holly, I have a confession to make.”

“You’re married.” She gasped, edging away. “You have a beautiful wife and five children you adore. I knew it.”

“I’ve never been married, and before you jump to more conclusions, I don’t have a girlfriend either.” He rubbed his thumb along her palm. “I wanted to make sure you understood my interest in Jamie getting into the gifted program at the Athenaeum isn’t entirely altruistic.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.” But then she wouldn’t have understood one-plus-one, not with him touching her like this. It should have been innocuous—logically she knew that—but it wasn’t at all.

“I like you, Holly.” He looked her in the eye, his gaze direct. “But I don’t go out with the parents of my students.”

She had to swallow a couple times before she could say, “You want to go out with me?”

“Yes.” He frowned. “Unless you’d rather not.”

She burst out laughing. She thought about all the bare horseback fantasies she’d had featuring him and laughed harder.

He smiled ruefully. “Laughing when a man declares his affection for you isn’t good for his ego.”

She sobered. “You have affection for me?”

“Holly”—his gaze fell to her lips—”I’ve been wanting to kiss you since the first time you came into my office at the beginning of the year.”

“Oh.” She touched her mouth. “I didn’t know.”

“But now that you do, am I in danger of being slapped for being forward?”

“That wasn’t my first thought, no.”

“Good.”

She looked down at their entwined fingers, hidden against the sides of their legs. “Today’s been a dream. I keep waiting to wake up.”

“I hope it’s a happy dream.”

“It’s the best.” Though she didn’t think she’d mind waking up—not if he were next to her in bed.

Could she risk it?

She never took chances anymore—she had too much at risk. But—damn it all if she didn’t want to risk everything right now.

Her shoulder angel whispered caution to her. This was how she ended up with Jamie.

Her shoulder devil told her to fuck it.

“Jamie,” she called, getting out her wallet.

Her son ran over to her.

She held out a pound. “For the curse jar.”

His little face lit up. “You said a bad word?”

She glanced at Peter, who watched her with avid interest. The headteacher leaned toward her as Jamie danced away. “I didn’t hear anything either,” he said softly, his breath tickling her neck. “Should I ask you what you’re thinking?”

“No,” she replied quickly.

He grinned. “Holly, I like you.”

She felt the press of his thigh against hers and swallowed. She wasn’t sure
like
was strong enough.

Chapter Seven

Best friend, her ass.

Gigi glared at Merrick Graham’s absurdly handsome face, shining up from her iPad, smiling at his dear Valerie. They were featured in the society column because they’d attended some sort of state function the night before. Merrick looked delicious in his suit. Gigi guessed that the only way he’d look better was naked.

Valerie didn’t look like any best friend Gigi had ever encountered. If this were a movie, Valerie would secretly have the hots for Merrick and want him naked for herself.

The cow.

Gigi punched the button on the treadmill to increase the incline on her brisk walk. It was her fault—she shouldn’t have looked at the society gossip.

But now she knew his name.

She snorted. So she knew what name to call out as he took her to heaven in her fantasies? Like that did her any good in real life. She needed to occupy her thoughts with positive affirmations of her goals instead of dreaming up trouble with Merrick.

She increased the speed on the treadmill for good measure.

She changed websites, going to an industry news site. She clicked through to different articles, until she came upon Delilah Jones’s barracuda face grinning at her. The caption underneath read
Delilah Jones, Hollywood’s next big thing, wooed by Russell Sherman for a Shakespearean adaptation.

Gigi tripped and slid off the treadmill as she grabbed the iPad to get a closer look. The article said that nothing was decided, but Jones was quoted to have said she was excited to work with Sherman.

“Like hell she is.” Gigi grabbed her phone and called Betty, time zones be damned.

Betty answered groggily. “This better be important, Imogen.”

“It’s the most important thing you’ll ever do.”

“Like, on par with yearly health exams?” Betty sighed. “Okay, I’m awake. Tell me what you need.”

“I want Ophelia in Russell Sherman’s
Hamlet
.”

“I thought Delilah Jones was signed for that.”

“Sherman promised me a read as long as I could keep my reputation clean.”

“Well, that’s that then.”

Gigi narrowed her eyes. “Do you know what I’m picturing right now?”

“As your manager, I feel I should tell you to be careful what you say over the phone lines. You know they record everything these days.” Betty sighed loudly. “If I promise to call Sherman and assure him you’re his girl, will you let me go back to sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Fine, then. Goodnight.” Betty hung up.

Gigi tossed her phone aside and began to pace.

Holly strode into the study, a sweet smile on her unflappable face. “Shouldn’t you do that on the treadmill?”