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“Let me see what I can whip up.” She raided his freezer and found only old chocolate ice cream, which she tossed in the trash, and a bag of meatballs. The meatballs held possibilities. Turning to the cabinets she searched and discovered a box of whole wheat pasta and a jar of marinara sauce. It wasn’t the gourmet fare Max was used to, but it would have to do.
She located a pot for the pasta and another for the sauce and wondered who’d bought the items. One of his women? He didn’t usually date the domesticated variety. He went for the leggy, actress wannabes who had banned carbohydrates from their vocabularies and their diets. Not that he practiced the old clichéd casting couch—she’d learned from observation that sleeping with him pretty much guaranteed a woman would never work with him. That didn’t stop them from lining up.
She shoved the pot under the faucet and turned on the water. “Do you think you have everything you need to complete postproduction?”
“If I don’t, then the second unit will deal with it once I make a list of my requirements.”
The second unit filmed establishing shots that didn’t require the principal actors. They’d make clips of the chateau or the landscape or distance pieces in which less expensive doubles could fill in for the actors.
With Max’s editing talents and the magic of colored filters and computer software, those clips could be cut in between closeups and no one would ever know the scenes hadn’t been filmed in sequence, in the same month or even on the same continent.
Dana had never been around for the second-unit shooting, since, like this time, she was usually sent home to clean up what had accumulated while they were away and to prepare for his return. She’d love to see how the second unit worked.
As producer, Max was usually the first on the scene and the last to leave. But with Honor, because he was also the film editor and the family wanted him to assure quality by doing the postproduction himself, he’d left the location before the second unit came in.
She loved the way Max gathered all the pieces of the movie puzzle together to make the final product seem like a seamless picture, and she’d learned a lot watching his process.
“Max, I know you like to be there till the last clip is filmed, but the rush job on the editing is forcing you to be here. I could go back to France to oversee the second unit filming for you.”
“You’re needed here. What’s the status on the sound stages?”
From practice, she followed his jump in topic and poured the jar of sauce into the smaller pot. “They’re ready for anything you might need. I checked and the sets look exactly like the photographs of the interior rooms of the chateau.”
It always amazed her to see how the prop master and set dressers could identically re-create any place by using film, photographs and measurements. If she hadn’t driven herself to the studio yesterday and fought the obscene Burbank traffic, she would have sworn she was still thousands of miles away in France when she’d toured the sound stages. But the real rooms of the chateau didn’t have the soundproofed panels that the imitation sets on the movie lot had. Audio recorded here would be much clearer and have fewer outside interferences like airplanes flying overhead.
“Good. Have you eaten?”
His question surprised her. “No, Max. I jumped and came running the moment you called.”
Like she always had. It was not as if she had a Friday night date to cancel or anything. Her feelings for Max had killed her dating life for the most part. She tried every now and then, but what was the point in dating a man who could never measure up to her boss? That was going to change. As soon as this movie was finished she would date again—lost cause or not.
“Make sure to fix enough food for two.”
His consideration made her heart squeeze up into her throat. He was a nice guy, charismatic and confident…when he wasn’t being a demanding perfectionist.
“You’ll need your energy,” he continued. “We’ll probably be up all night. And keep the coffee coming.”
Her hopes and optimism crashed. She turned away to hide her disappointment. She should have known Max’s concern for her wasn’t personal. All he cared about was work—the only mistress, other than his late wife, to whom he’d ever been faithful as far as she knew.
Would she never learn?
She couldn’t bend over backward to please him at every turn the way she used to. That wasn’t her job anymore. She had to find a way to remind him—to remind both of them—of the boundaries of her new role as associate producer.
And then once Honor was completed she would tender her resignation. Again. This time she wouldn’t let him talk her out of it. She had more important things to accomplish in her life than being someone’s invisible assistant, and wasting her time pining for her boss was not going to get those items checked off her list.
She squared her shoulders and stared at the man who’d played the starring role in her fantasies for the past few years. Beginning now, her actions were going to be all about her. Her life. Her dreams. Her success. She was going to go after the family and career she craved.
And no one was going to stand in her way. Not even Maximillian Hudson.
Two
Max fought the sensation of being trussed up in an invisible straitjacket Sunday morning. Having a woman move into his house even temporarily broke his twenty-four-hour rule, and he had that rule for a reason. Never again would he allow a woman to be more than a one-night stand.
But when Dana had fallen asleep sitting in the spare chair in his study just before sunrise yesterday he’d realized he couldn’t ask her to work eighteen-hour days and then make the drive home. It wasn’t safe. Instead of waking her and sending her on her way he’d let her sleep and left for the office so he wouldn’t be around when she awoke. He’d barricaded himself in his office at Hudson Pictures all day Saturday.
He would not be responsible for another woman falling asleep at the wheel and ending up dead. His gut clenched as the memories rained down on him. His wife was gone, and he knew from experience that rehashing and regretting that night would not bring Karen back. Nothing would. He slammed the floodgates on the past the way he always did.
Reminding himself that his cohabitation with Dana was a temporary measure and nothing more than a way to squeeze more working hours out of each day, he brushed aside his disquiet. He wasn’t doing this for Dana’s benefit. It was a purely selfish action. If something happened to her, it would be close to impossible to finish editing Honor on time.
He shoved open the door to the first-floor guest suite, entered and dropped the small suitcase he carried beside the bed. “Leave your stuff in here.”
Dana rolled her shoulders stiffly and yawned as she followed him into the room. She covered her mouth and the muscles in her arms shifted, revealing her excellent physical condition. He’d heard that she, like several of the employees, often made use of the personal trainers Hudson Pictures had on location for the lead actors. It showed.
Why had he never noticed that before?
He yanked his gaze back to her face. She looked tired. Not surprising since he’d called and woken her far earlier than most people got up on Sunday morning and demanded she pack a bag and get over here.
He should be exhausted, too, but he was charged by adrenaline, too much caffeine and too much to do. He’d snatched a couple hours sleep here and there, but he’d have to wait to catch up once he had the first cut of the film put together.
There were a lot of pieces to this project that would normally be farmed out to others, but the family wanted tight control on the finished project. That meant he had more responsibilities than usual. But thanks to digital nonlinear filming he could do most of the work here on his computer instead of in the office where constant interruptions would slow him down.
He caught his gaze wandering over Dana again. Her usual work wardrobe was professional, conservative. Today’s snug, ribbed orange tank top clung to her breasts, and she’d cinched her low-rider jeans with a wide leather belt, drawing attention to her rounded hips. She’d dressed too casually for the office, but they weren’t going leave his house today, so he wouldn’t waste time complaining or waiting for her to change.
She usually wore her long, dark hair up in a neat, no-frills style, but this time she’d clipped the strands up in one of those messy, I’m-getting-ready-to-shower styles that left her neck dusted with loose tendrils—the kind a cameraman loved when shooting a love scene or any other scene requiring a shot of a woman’s vulnerable nape.
She hadn’t bothered with makeup, but her smooth olive skin and thickly lashed dark eyes made cosmetics unnecessary. A makeup artist would love her, and if the male crew members saw her like this they’d be salivating over her. She looked approachable instead of her usual cool as ice.
Despite her skills in the office, Dana could easily be in front of the camera instead of behind it. Another thing he’d missed.
The fact that she had never used her womanly shape, big chocolate-brown eyes and lush red lips to wheedle her way out of hard work was a point in her favor. He’d experienced enough vain, demanding actresses to lose patience with high-maintenance attitudes long ago. The last thing he needed was more behind-the-scenes melodrama. Movie sets were always full of drama of the unscripted and unwanted variety. The Honor set had been no exception.
During the winter his younger brother Luc had become engaged, knocked up his fiancée and decided to leave Hudson Pictures for a horse ranch in Montana. In the spring his cousin Jack had discovered a son he didn’t know he had and married the kid’s mother. About the same time the family had learned of their grandmother’s cancer after she’d had a frightening collapse. And then this summer his cousin Charlotte had become pregnant by the owner of the chateau where they’d been filming Honor.
If Max had his way, autumn would not yield any more real-life drama for the cast and crew and definitely not for him.
He shook off the past and focused on Dana. “I want you staying here until we finish the locked cut.”
Her eyes widened and then her teeth pinched her bottom lip. “But the final cut could take months.”
“We don’t have months and you asked for this position. I warned you that you’d be working around the clock.” He regretted letting her back him into a corner. But he hadn’t had a choice. He needed an assistant to pull this off, and he didn’t have time to train someone new on his methods. Dana knew how he worked. “If you can’t handle it, speak up.”
Her chin rose at his challenge and her cheeks flushed peach. “I can handle it. But when you said pack a bag I only packed enough clothing for a couple of days. I’ll have to swing by my apartment and pick up more later.”
“Fine. Let’s get started.” He headed for the stairs, hoping the climb would chase away his grogginess.
“Max, I need coffee first. It’s not even six yet. And in case you don’t know it, I stayed here until ten last night.”
Thanks to his security system’s ability to text his cell phone he knew how late she’d stayed. He’d deliberately avoided coming home until after she’d left, and then he’d rolled in around midnight. The pile of completed work she’d left on his desk proved she hadn’t been sleeping on the job all day. But then Dana had never been one to shirk even the dirtiest assignments.
“You know where the coffeepot is.”
“I left messages with the caterers and the housekeeper and asked them to resume services immediately,” she said from close behind him. “They should return first thing Monday morning. Hudson’s personnel director is trying to hire my replacement. In the meantime, unless you quit being so critical of every résumé you receive, you might have to work with a temp.”
He stopped and turned on the stairs. From the tread above her he looked down at her upturned face, and against his will the swell of her cleavage drew his gaze. The sight hit him with an unexpected punch of arousal.
What the heck?
Dana worked for him. That made her off limits. He ripped his attention from her smooth skin. Only then did he notice she carried several canvas bags looped over her wrists in addition to her ever-present briefcase. “Is there a reason why you’re telling me this?”
“Yes. I’ve run your office without a glitch for five years, Max. You need to know the effort that goes into that because you’re going to notice some rough spots during the transition. I’ll do my best to smooth them out, but you might just have to suck it up and deal with a few irritations.”
The fire in her eyes and voice surprised him. Had Dana ever talked back to him before? He didn’t think so. In fact, she’d almost been invisible in getting things done without drawing attention to herself. More than once he’d almost run into her because she was by his side before he even called for her.
“Nothing can slow us down.”
“Max, I can’t guarantee that, but I’ll try to make sure nothing does. Let me unload the groceries and then we can get started. You may be able to work without breakfast, but I can’t.”
A subtle floral fragrance reached his nose. Dana’s perfume? Why had it never registered before? And why was it intruding now? Not intruding, just distracting. She smelled good. He shook off the unnecessary awareness. He didn’t have time for distractions.
“Give me those.” He pulled the bags from her arms, carried them to the kitchen and set them on the counter. She immediately withdrew a covered rectangular dish from one and popped it into the microwave.
“What is that?”
“A breakfast casserole. I made it last night.” She methodically unpacked the remainder of the bags while the microwave hummed, and she stored each item in the cupboards or fridge—fruits and vegetables, juice, milk, bread, eggs, a wedge of the cheese he preferred, two thick T-bone steaks, his favorite cut of meat.
The other night he’d had to escape to the balcony while Dana cooked the spaghetti. The domestic scene had brought back too many memories. Karen had loved to cook. During their brief marriage they’d spent many hours together in the kitchen of their old house laughing, loving and eventually eating whatever she’d whipped up. That was back in the day when sharing a meal with his bride had been one of the highlights of his day, second only to making love with her.
Damn.
Karen had never set foot in this house, but he felt her presence everywhere he went these days. He blamed the disturbance on the script. Shooting the story of his grandparents falling in love reminded him of falling for his wife and the despair of losing her. He’d known he wanted to spend the rest of his life with his red-haired beauty within three days of meeting her, but he’d had only three years—years that had passed faster than a blink.
And now she was gone.
And it was his fault.
“When was the last time you ate?” Dana’s voice plunged into the depths of his dark memories and yanked him to the surface.
He drew air into his tight lungs and searched his mind. “I don’t know. Your spaghetti, I guess.”
She scowled at him. “Max, that was thirty-six hours ago.”
He shrugged. “I was working.”
She rolled her eyes and made a disgusted sound. “And you always forget to eat when you’re working.”
Did he? Was that why she was always shoving food in front of him?
She filled a tall glass with ice and some of the pineapple juice she’d brought with her and set it on the counter in front of him. He sipped the sweet liquid while she bustled around. Moments later the scent of coffee brewing filled the kitchen.
“You don’t need a new executive assistant. You need a keeper,” she muttered under her breath as she banged more items into cabinets.
The quiet anger in her tone raised his hackles. “What did you say?”
She turned, brown eyes flashing with temper, and parked her hands on her hips. “I said you need a keeper. I have your food and dry cleaning delivered and your house cleaned. I run your office, pay your bills and schedule your car maintenance and even your dentist and doctor appointments. You’re a brilliant producer and film editor, Max. You can schedule a multibillion dollar project down to the dime and edit it down to the second, and heaven knows, you can work miracles with film and the cast and make sure everyone else’s needs are met. But you can’t manage your own life.”
“What?” Karen had often said the same thing. That without her he’d be lost. She was right. That’s why he had Dana.
Dana pushed her bangs off her forehead and sighed. “That’s not your fault. You’ve never had to. You had your family and an army of servants and then your wife and now me to do all that for you. But you’re going to have to learn. Your next executive assistant may not be willing to manage your personal life, and I won’t be around forever.”
“We’ve been over that. You can’t quit.”
Her gaze met his dead on, steady and determined, dark brown and serious. “I promised to see you through the end of Honor. And I am leaving Hudson Pictures once we’re done. I negotiated the noncompete clause out of my new contract. You can’t give me what I need, and I’m not going to let you hold me back anymore.”
Her comment took him aback. Man, she was full of surprises today. None of them good. “I’m not holding you back.”
“Yes, you are.”
The sadness in her voice caught him at a loss. He didn’t understand all this emotional crap, and he was too tired to try to figure it out. Was she PMSing or what? “What exactly is it you want, Dana? I gave you the promotion you demanded.”
She glanced toward the doorway and shifted on her feet. “I need a life.”
“You have a life and a job most people would kill for. You travel the globe and frequent five-star hotels and restaurants. You wear designer clothing to premieres and work with movie stars others only dream of meeting. The films we create make history, damn it.”
“No, Max. You make history. I just watch from the sidelines.” She dug in her briefcase, extracted her PDA, a pen and a pad of paper and then rapidly filled the page with her neat script. When she finished she pushed the sheet toward him.
“What is this?” Whatever it was, he knew from her expression that he wasn’t going to like it.
“This is a list of people who make your world turn. Your caterer, dry cleaner, housekeeper, dentist, doctor, barber and the like. Until your new executive assistant is hired, you’ll be dealing with these people yourself.”
“Why won’t you?”
“Because it’s not my job anymore.”
Speechless, he stared. Where was the efficient, quiet woman who’d worked for him for the past few years? “What in God’s name happened to you in France?”
“I had a wake up call from my brother. He made me realize that my life was passing me by while I ran yours.”
“You have a brother?” How could he not have known that? Come to think of it, did he know anything about Dana’s personal life? He searched his mind and came up with a blank slate. She didn’t share; he didn’t ask. He liked it that way.
But then he realized he didn’t even know where she lived or where she was from originally. Going by the slight accent that slipped out now and then he’d guess she’d come from a southern state. He’d have to have personnel fax over a copy of her résumé.
“My brother, James, is two years older than me. He’s a football coach at the university back home. Coaching was his dream, and he didn’t let anything stop him from attaining it.”
She pulled out a manila folder and slid it across the countertop. “Here’s the schedule of your current appointments and a selection of the caterer’s sample menus. Mark your choices, add anything else you want and then fax the sheets to the number on the top of the page. They’ll coordinate the delivery times with Annette.”
Confused, he frowned. “Who is Annette?”
She sighed as if she’d lost patience with him. “Your housekeeper. She’s worked for you for four years.”
He should have known that. But when was he ever home during the day? “What in the hell is going on, Dana?”
“I’m your associate producer now, Max. I won’t be your caretaker anymore.”
Caretaker.
He stiffened at the insult. “I’m thirty-three years old, not a child who needs a nanny. I can take care of my own damned needs.”
A daring sparkle glinted her eyes and the edges of her mouth slowly curved in a mischievous smile. One dark eyebrow rose. “Really? Care to wager on that, Hudson?”
Something inside him did a queer little twist. He’d never seen this side of Dana before, and he wasn’t sure what to make of the change or if he liked it. “Oh, yes, I’ll bet on it. Put your money where your mouth is, Fallon.”
She shook her head. “Money means nothing to you.”
Drumming his fingers on the folder, he ticked through the possible stakes. What did she have that he wanted? The answer was obvious. “If I handle all my personal junk without asking for your help, then you’ll stay on as my assistant after we wrap Honor.”
She bit her lip and shifted on her feet. “Your executive assistant, not an associate producer?”
“That’s right. After this project you return to your old duties.”
“And if I win?”
“I’ll give you the best damned reference you’ve ever seen. I’ll even make a few calls to help you get your next job.”
Her lips parted and her chest rose as she took one deep breath and then another. Her bright orange top kept drawing his attention to her breasts. Her sedate, conservative clothing had never had that effect on him. He forced his gaze back to her face. Should he insist she go back to her professional clothing? No. That would be a sign of weakness.
“Be sure you want to wager this, Max. Because you won’t win.”
He was sure he didn’t want to have to train someone new. Dana might have been around for a long time, but he remembered how many assistants he’d hired and fired before finding her. As she’d pointed out, she made his life run smoothly. She’d fit in from the first day she stepped into his office.
“I’m sure you won’t win. Do we have a deal?”
He’d give her the responsibility she wanted with this picture, and if he played his cards right and showed her the harsh reality of an associate producer position, she’d see her job as his executive assistant involve a hell of a lot less work and stress. She’d beg to have her old job and her old hours back. Then his life would run smoothly once more.
She held up one finger. “If you win, I’ll stay on for one year. That’s the most I’ll promise. Not that it’s going to happen.”
His competitive spirit kicked in. She ought to know better than to back him into a corner. He thrived on working under pressure. And he would do his best to change her mind about the one-year stipulation. “You have yourself a deal, Dana.”
He held out his hand and she put hers in it. The contact of her warm, soft palm and long slender fingers against his sent a surge of electricity up his arm. He’d felt that jolt only once before.
The first time he’d kissed his wife.
He yanked his hand free.
Man, the Honor script was messing with his head.
He didn’t have those kinds of feelings for Dana. Or anyone. And he never would again. Because the last time he’d let himself care about a woman she’d ended up dead.
Three
Max pulled away from Dana so abruptly he yanked her off-balance. “I’m going for a swim.”
“What about work? You’re the one who called me before sunrise and said we needed to get started. And what about breakfast?”
The microwave dinged as if to reinforce her point. Glad to have a distraction from the residual tingle in her palm, Dana wiped her hand on her jeans and then opened the door. The delicious smell of the ham, zucchini and mushroom strata filled the air.