Praise for
Trish Wylie:

‘Trish Wylie…pen[s] an unforgettable romance that’s hilarious, tender, heartwarming and absorbing from the word go. Trish Wylie gets better with every single book she writes, and readers looking for a romance that is funny, exotic, enthralling and simply irresistible to put down ought to put THE MILLIONAIRE’S PROPOSAL at the very top of their list!’

—Cataromance.com

Trish also writes for Modern Heat™

‘Charming, romantic and fabulous, HIS MISTRESS, HIS TERMS is another novel by Ms Wylie with keeper stamped all over it.’

—Cataromance.com

There he was: the infamous Will Ryan.

Pathetically, her palms felt clammy. Though that could just be the horrible cold she’d picked up on her way to California, she supposed…

But, truthfully, Cassidy Malone couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so nervous or so self-conscious. Or so completely incapable of fooling people into thinking she was more self-confident than she actually was. She really needed the latter if she was going to stand a chance of working with Will. And if she couldn’t do it in the land of make-believe, then where could she?

Do you ever wish you could

step into someone else’s shoes?

IN HER SHOES…

Modern-day Cinderellas get their grooms!

Now you can with Mills & Boon® Romance’s new mini-series brimming full of contemporary, feel-good stories.

Our modern-day Cinderellas swap glass slippers

for a stylish stiletto!

So follow each footstep through makeover to marriage,

rags to riches, as these women

fulfil their hopes and dreams…

This month step into Cassidy’s shoes

to find out if this L.A. Cinderella

meets a movie-star-gorgeous prince in:

HIS L.A. CINDERELLA

by

TRISH WYLIE

TRISH WYLIE tried various careers before eventually fulfilling her dream of writing. Years spent working in the music industry, in promotions, and teaching little kids about ponies gave her plenty of opportunity to study life and the people around her. Which, in Trish’s opinion, is a pretty good study course for writing! Living in Ireland, Trish balances her time between writing and horses. If you get to spend your days doing things you love, then she thinks that’s not doing too badly. You can contact Trish at www.trishwylie.com

HIS L.A. CINDERELLA
BY
TRISH WYLIE

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For my new friend Lisa from Warner Bros. Studios

for the behind the scenes tour.

CHAPTER ONE

THERE he was: the infamous Will Ryan.

Pathetically, her palms felt clammy. Though that could just have been the horrible cold she’d picked up on her way to California, she supposed…

But, truthfully, Cassidy Malone couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so nervous or self-conscious. Or so completely incapable of fooling people into thinking she was more self-confident than she actually was. She really needed the latter if she was going to stand a chance of pulling off the deception of a lifetime. And if she couldn’t do it in the land of make-believe, then where could she? If she just didn’t have this stupid cold to add to everything else. Who flew halfway across the planet to a place twenty degrees warmer than home and ended up with a cold? She felt awful. So much for the theory that she would feel more confident away from home, where nobody knew her…

But therein lay her immediate problem. Because the man making his way across the beautiful lobby of the Beverly Wilshire knew her all too well. A decade ago he’d known every inch of her body intimately, and had held her heart in the palm of his large hand—the same heart that now jumped in joyous recognition and then twisted in regret at how comfortable he looked in their surroundings.

Cassidy was incredibly jealous of that.

Will didn’t so much as bat an eyelid at the white marble, the large chandelier, the carved wooden elevator doors or the polished brass and black accents. I belong here, his confident stride said silently. But then Cassidy couldn’t remember a time when there’d ever been a place he hadn’t had that air of self-assurance. He’d always had a way of carrying himself that practically dared people to say he was somewhere he didn’t belong.

That confidence, and the hint of potential danger if pushed, had added to his potent sexuality from the very beginning as far as Cassidy was concerned. Add boyish good-looks and a smile that could genuinely melt female knees…He’d been the flame and she the moth. But to see him so at home in a place where she felt so very lost…Well, it just widened the already cavernous gap between them, didn’t it?

Ridiculously, it hurt. When it really shouldn’t have. Not after so long…

His bright green gaze sought her out and brushed nonchalantly from her head to her toes and back up again, forcing her to suck in her stomach and silently pray that he couldn’t see any sign of the foundation underwear she’d struggled her way into. Like every woman Cassidy knew, every inch counted in times of crisis—even though she had absolutely no idea where those missing inches had been relocated to. With any luck Will would keep their meetings to places where there was air-conditioning, so she stood a better chance of not passing out in the California heat and the thin air of Los Angeles. Restricted circulation plus bunged-up nose didn’t exactly give her a head start…

Mentally she crossed her fingers.

‘Cass.’

He held out a ridiculously large hand when he got to her, and for a second Cassidy looked down at it with an arched brow, as if confused by what she was supposed to do with it. They were shaking hands? Like complete strangers? Really?

Okay, then.

Surreptitiously swiping a clammy palm on her hip, she placed it in his; the heat of long fingers curled around her cooler ones, sending another jolt of recognition through her veins to her heart. Good to know her body hadn’t forgotten him either. She tried to think professional thoughts. It wasn’t easy. But she had to work with this man.

Will let go of her hand somewhat abruptly. ‘Recovered from your flight?’

‘Yes. Thank you. I think it’s easier this way than going back.’

‘Happy with the hotel?’

‘How could I not be?’ She glanced around, but couldn’t stop her gaze from shifting back to study him. Still boyish. He hadn’t aged a day. How was that fair?

Will nodded, and glanced around him the way she had. ‘It has a history firmly tied up in Hollywood. Dashiell Hammet wrote The Thin Man here. Elvis lived here while making movies at Paramount, and they’ve had everyone from members of the British royal family to the Dalai Lama stay at one time or another.’

‘That’s nice.’ Inwardly she rolled her eyes as the words slipped off the tip of her tongue. Eloquent, Cassidy. Way to go. But, however foolish she felt, it was nothing in comparison to how stunned she was by his coolness. It was like talking to a tour guide. An uninvolved, unattached and in fairness disgustingly good-looking tour guide. But nevertheless…

‘I thought you might appreciate it.’

Cassidy lifted a brow again. Meaning what? That she should be thanking her lucky stars she was here in the first place? True. But she didn’t need to be made to feel as if she’d been invited to Tinsel Town by some miraculous accident. Some timely miraculous accident, she corrected. Because she couldn’t have needed a break more if she’d tried.

He was right, though. She’d been as thrilled by the hotel as she had by her first glimpse of the Hollywood sign on the hill. Located only a few steps away from the glittering shops of Rodeo Drive, she knew the famous hotel’s ornate European façade, with its distinctly rounded awnings and rows of sculpted trees, was straight out of the pages of Hollywood history—not to mention being the site of one of her favourite films of all time. It was just a shame she wasn’t going to be there at Christmas, when they reportedly did an outstanding job of decorating, transforming its exterior into a dazzling display of twinkling lights.

By then she’d probably have been discovered as a fraud and sent home with her tail between her legs—back to eating rice and pasta like she had in her student days, while she’d waited for her grant money to arrive. Only this time she’d be waiting for meager pay-cheques that couldn’t support the debts she had after caring for her father before he died. Well, now, there was something to look forward to.

‘Ready?’

She nodded as Will swung a long arm in invitation and allowed her to step ahead of him. Squinting at the bright light outside, she took her sunglasses off the top of her head moments after Will donned his. A California necessity, she’d discovered since she’d landed. And as much of a status symbol as everything else, judging by the designer wear everyone but her had shading their eyes.

Silently, they turned right—Will matching his longer stride to hers—then right again at a major light, until they approached a strip of nice-looking semi-casual restaurants. Will’s choice was an ivy-covered courtyard, where the maître d’ greeted him by name and held out chairs for them before unfurling linen napkins onto their laps and handing them leather-bound menus with a flourish and a small bow.

Cassidy fought the need to giggle like a schoolgirl. At the grand old age of thirty, she should be more mature. ‘Well, this beats cheese sandwiches in the park.’

Thick dark lashes flickered upwards from their study of the menu. They brushed his deeply tanned skin once, twice, and then he quirked his brows a minuscule amount and continued reading. ‘That was a long time ago.’

Seeing him again, it felt like yesterday to her. But she didn’t say that. Instead she allowed herself a moment to surreptitiously examine him while he made a decision on what to eat. Had he got sexier as he’d got older? Yes, she decided, he had. Darn it. Men were known to do that. Wasn’t the fact he was more successful than her, richer than her and plainly more confident than her enough? At least one of them had got it right. Small consolation, though.

It was tough not to be as mesmerised by the sight of him as she had been at twenty. And twenty-one. And twenty-two. From the thick dark hair that curled disobediently outwards at his nape, all the way down the lean six foot three of his body, he was one of those guys blessed with the ability to mesmerise woman. Who could have blamed her for the crush she’d had from a distance for over a year? Or for how shy she’d been when he’d first talked to her during a group project in their screenwriting class? Or how…?

‘Do you know what you want?’ Will asked, in a low rumble that sent a sudden shiver up her spine.

The spine she straightened a little in her chair. Because, yes, actually—she did know what she wanted. She had a list, as it happened. High up on it was the ability to make the most of an opportunity when it came e-mailing her way, without blowing it by drooling all over the man who had long since left her behind. So now he’d given her an opening, it seemed as good a time as any to ask:

‘A better idea of what the studio expects from me would be nice.’ She even managed to tack on a smile when he looked at her again. See—she could do confident if she tried.

Will took a breath and closed the menu, calmly setting it down on his side-plate as he glanced around at the lunchtime crowd. ‘They expect what they paid us that hefty advance for back in the day. We both knew what we were doing when we signed on the dotted line.’

Did we? If she’d known the heartache signing that contract would bring her way she wasn’t so sure she would go back in time and sign it again. But Cassidy let it slide. ‘So, after all this time they suddenly want script three? Just like that? When movie number two pretty much fell flat on its face…’

‘At the box office. But thanks to a rabid internet fan base it made money on long-term residuals. You’d know that from the fact we still get royalty cheques. This time we have the opportunity to be one of those sleepers that might well prove an accidental tent pole, with a good script and the right budget.’

Cassidy blinked at him for a moment, and then confessed, ‘I have no idea what you just said.’

He almost smiled. ‘Hollywood speak.’

‘Is there a dictionary?’

‘Not that I’m aware of.’

‘Pity.’ She tried another smile to see if it had any effect. ‘You’ll have to translate for me, then.’

‘Bottom line?’

Oh, please, yes. ‘That might help.’

Something resembling amusement glittered across his amazing eyes. ‘They want a script yesterday, and as you and I own the rights jointly to the original copyright we’ve both got to do it. We’re joined at the hip till it’s done and they’re happy…’

‘No pressure, then.’

The wide shoulders beneath his expensive dark jacket lifted and fell in a brief nonchalant shrug. ‘We did it before, Cass. We can do it again.’

The tiny word ‘we’ seemed to tug on a ragged corner of her heart every time he said it in his deep rumble of a voice. Not that it meant anything any more. He probably didn’t feel the pressure she did. Why would he? He’d been writing scripts ever since he left—had success after success to his name: award nominations, contracts and his own production company. Whereas she, his former writing partner…?

Well, she had a knack for getting seven-year-olds to stay quiet, but that was about it. The closest she’d got to writing was putting her lessons on a blackboard…

Automatically she reached for iced water the second a waiter poured it, swallowing a large gulp to dampen her dry mouth. A cold dew of perspiration broke out on her skin while she wondered when was a good time to confess how long it had been since she last written a single original word. Maybe just as well she hadn’t unpacked properly yet.

The waiter smiled at her as if he felt her pain. So she smiled back.

Will’s voice deepened. ‘Have you done much writing?’

Oh, come on! How could he still read her mind when it had been so long since he’d seen her? It was the perfect opening for honesty; yes. But since she already had a shovel in her hand it seemed a shame not to use it.

‘Not much scriptwriting. I’ve dabbled with other stuff.’ In that she’d read instructional books—lots of them—to no avail. ‘You know how it is. Use it or—’

‘Lose it.’ He nodded, the corners of his wide mouth tugging in a way that suggested he was fighting off one of the smiles that would addle her thoughts. ‘This shouldn’t take long, then. If you were rusty it might have taken a while to get you back up to speed.’

Cassidy swallowed more water to stop a confession from slipping free. Had it got warmer all of a sudden? She suddenly felt a little light-headed.

Out of nowhere he added, ‘We made a good team once.’

She almost choked, her eyes watering a little as she looked at him and he finally let that smile loose. Oh, that was just unfair. She instantly hated him for it. With the white-hot intensity of a million burning suns she hated him for the fact that smile could still knock her on her ear. But even more than that she hated him because she’d been waiting for it to appear and knock her on her ear. She’d known! Had known from the second his name appeared in her Inbox that he would have the capability to do damage to her self-control all over again.

But then being attracted to him had never been a problem. It had been his complete lack of availability to commit that had. She wasn’t ending up the fool twice. She darn well wasn’t!

Lifting her chin an inch, she set her glass safely on the white tablecloth and dampened her lips in preparation for saying the right words to make it plain to him it was strictly business between them this time round. After all, if she wanted to be made to look a fool she could do it all by herself. She didn’t actually need any help.

But her resolve faltered in the sight of that smile. Light twinkled in his eyes, fine laughter lines fanned out from their edges, the grooves in his cheeks deepened, and his lips slid back over even teeth that looked even whiter than she remembered when contrasted with the golden hue of his Californian tan.

Put all those things together and it was infectious. Cassidy could even feel the reciprocal upward tug of her own mouth. No, no, no—she mustn’t smile back. That was how it had started last time.

Will’s deep voice added words husky with appreciation. ‘You look beautiful—as always…’

The woman inside her so lacking in self-confidence blossomed under the simple, if unfounded praise. She could feel her skin warming, could feel her heart racing—could feel her smile breaking loose…

Then a sultry female voice sounded above her head. ‘As always flattery will get you everywhere, Irish boy…’

Whipping her head round, Cassidy found herself staring up at a face she recognised from movie billboards and TV screens. The woman wasn’t just beautiful, she was perfection. Even without airbrushing.

When Will pushed his chair back, the actress stepped over to him and kissed each of his cheeks, European-style. ‘I heard you got a green light for your pet project. Bravo, you!’

‘You know what I had for breakfast this morning too?’

‘Not in a long time.’ She aimed a wink at Cassidy, who smiled weakly in return. ‘Not that you haven’t been invited often enough…’

Will remembered his manners. ‘Angie—this is Cassidy Malone. Cass, this is—’

‘Angelique Warden. Yes, I know.’ Cassidy made the smile more genuine as she stood up and stretched a hand across the table. ‘It’s nice to meet you. I loved your last movie.’

‘Shame the box office didn’t feel the same way. But thank you.’ Her eyes narrowed momentarily. ‘Wait a second. You’re not Cassidy Malone as in Ryan and Malone?’

Cassidy’s gaze slid briefly to Will and then back. ‘A long time ago…’

‘Then the rumour is true? They picked up the option?’

Will nodded, and glanced around him as if it was a state secret. He even lowered his voice. ‘It’s not been announced yet, so—’

‘Oh, you don’t have to tell me, you idiot. How exciting!’

Suddenly Cassidy was much more interesting to her than before, and a matching set of European cheek kisses were bestowed on her before Cassidy could warn her of her cold.

‘So nice to meet you. Make him bring you to dinner. I have a million and one questions to ask about the Ryan and Malone years. Will thinks being enigmatic makes him more interesting.’

‘Not everyone likes their every move reported in the dailies.’

Still blinking in stunned amazement at having been kissed by one of the highest paid actresses on the globe, Cassidy found her attention caught by the drawl of Will’s newfound American twang. The words made her scowl in recrimination. He’d been many things back in the day, but cruel had never been one of them. The famous Angelique Warden had hardly had an easy time with the press in the last year.

But Angelique laughed huskily and batted his upper arm with her designer purse, pouting and rolling her eyes. ‘Yes, but it’s such a joy for the rest of us. Dinner. Saturday. Bring your partner. I’m going to learn all your darkest secrets.’

‘No, you’re not.’

‘I’ll ply her with alcohol if I have to.’ She winked at Cassidy for the second time and Cassidy was immediately charmed by her.

In fairness, if she plied the only Irish native on the planet who couldn’t hold her drink with alcohol then she would get everything she’d probably never wanted to hear. Half a glass of wine and Cassidy’s tongue tended to take on a life of its own.

‘No, you won’t. I need her lucid for the next few weeks.’

‘Was he always so serious?’

Cassidy looked at Will, found him staring at her with a disconcertingly unreadable expression, and her answer kind of popped out. ‘No. He wasn’t.’

He stared at her until she could feel her toes curling in her shoes.

So she bravely lifted her chin in challenge.

After what felt like a very long time, Angelique laughed musically. ‘Okay, then. Well, you two kids have fun. I can highly recommend the scallops. Saturday, Irish boy—you hear me?’

‘I hear you.’

He waved an arm to indicate Cassidy should sit back down, and she was glad of it. She really was starting to feel light-headed. Maybe she should have dragged herself out of bed for breakfast after all?

‘I’ll call on Saturday and tell her we can’t make it.’ He re-opened his menu. ‘I think we should start brainstorming tomorrow and get something down on paper over the weekend.’

That fast? Great. Now she felt nauseous as well.

Hiding partially behind her auburn hair as she lowered her chin to scan the menu, she cleared her throat and asked, ‘You have any ideas?’

‘A few.’

It was like pulling teeth. ‘Any you’d care to share?’

When she glanced at him she saw the slight upward pull on the corners of his mouth before he answered. ‘Not here, no.’

Cassidy’s gaze moved from side to side and she lowered her voice to a stage whisper. ‘Are they watching?’

‘They?’ His gaze rose, curiosity lifting his brows.

‘The script gremlins…’

There was a second of silence, and then a brief rumble of low laughter broke free. ‘Haven’t changed, have you?’

Oh, how little he knew.

They managed small talk after that. The latest movies Will’s company had produced, the differences in living in California compared to Ireland…They even segued from there to the weather. But she couldn’t help missing the ease they’d once had with each other. Angelique was right—Will had got serious with age. It made Cassidy feel like even more of an idiot. She couldn’t seem to manage a conversation without a wisecrack or teasing him the way she’d used to, and it added to her feeling of awkwardness. Then she hit rock bottom in the embarrassment stakes when he walked her back to the hotel.

The air really was thinner in California. And it really was incredibly warm. Food hadn’t got rid of her light-headedness. Her nose felt more blocked than ever, her throat hurt, and her voice was beginning to fade…

Then, back in the foyer of the beautiful hotel, surrounded by beautiful people in expensive clothes, Will turned to say goodbye and the world began to spin. The edges of her vision blurred—she swayed. And, as she had figuratively speaking so many years ago, Cassidy fell at his feet.

She came to with her head resting against Will’s hard chest, his warmth surrounding her. He must have sat her up. He had his arm around her. Blinking the world into focus, her eyes immediately sought his.

He was frowning. ‘What happened?’

‘If I had to guess, I’d say I fell down,’ she informed him dryly.

‘Are you sick?’

‘Bit of a cold. I spent the morning in bed.’

His mouth narrowed into a thin line as he held a glass of water to her lips. ‘You should have said something.’

Allowing the water to wash the dryness from her mouth and throat, she glanced around at the sea of interested bystanders and immediately felt colour rising in her cheeks. Great. The never-ending humiliation continued. It reminded her of that time in high school, before she’d had laser surgery, when she’d forgotten her glasses and got into the wrong car outside the school gates. She’d held a five-minute conversation with a complete stranger before she’d realised what she’d done…

Irritation sounding in her voice, she tried to push up on to her feet. ‘I’m good now, Will. Thanks. Let me up.’

But he held her in place. ‘Give it a minute.’

When he held the glass back to her mouth, her sense of mortification was raised several notches. She pushed his hand away. ‘Stop that. I can do it. I don’t need a minute.’

Taking the glass from him, she struggled anything but gracefully to her feet, splashing water onto her hand and the floor. Once she was upright, she swayed precariously. Will stepped forward—one hand removing the glass, one arm circling her waist as he calmly informed her, ‘That went well.’

Cassidy scowled at the grumbled words as he handed the glass to a hovering concierge before demanding, ‘Key card.’

‘What?’

‘Give me your key card.’ Lifting his free hand in front of her body, he waggled long fingers. ‘Hand it over. You’re going back to bed.’

‘I don’t think—’

‘Good. Run with that. Key card.’

While her brain tried to think up an argument against the new and not necessarily improved attitude he seemed to have acquired with age, her traitorous hand reached into her bag for the card. Apparently the best she could come up with in reply was, ‘I don’t remember you being this bossy.’

‘Comes with the territory in my job.’ His fingers closed around the card.

‘Can we get anything for the lady?’

Will nodded at the concierge’s question. ‘You could send up some chilled orange juice to room…?’

When he lifted his brows at Cassidy, she sighed. ‘Ten-twenty-eight.’

‘And send out to the nearest pharmacy for cold medicine of some kind.’

The concierge nodded. ‘Of course, sir.’

Completely out of nowhere, Will did the last thing she’d expected and bent at the waist, scooping her into his arms like some kind of caped superhero. The man would put his back out! She was a good twenty pounds over the weight she’d been the last time he’d pulled that stunt.

A part of her curled up and died even as her arm automatically circled his neck. ‘Put me down, Will. I can walk.’

As she whispered the words her gaze met that of several fascinated observers, and a couple of women who looked distinctly as if they were swooning. Now her cheeks were on fire. ‘Will, I’m serious! I’m too heavy.’

‘No, you’re not. Shut up, Cass.’

She wriggled, and felt her lunch rearrange itself inside her stomach, drawing a low moan from her lips. If she threw up in public she was taking the next plane home. It would serve Will Ryan right if she threw up over him!

He walked through the remainder of the foyer as if she weighed nothing, and then turned to hit the elevator button with his elbow. Adding even further to her nightmare, he then moved the hand at her waist and dropped his chin to frown at her body. ‘What are you wearing under that blouse?’

Oh. Dear. God.

‘I think you’ll find we’re eight years too late for a conversation about my underwear.’

When he looked at her, she summoned a smirk.

His green gaze travelling over her face, he took in her flushed cheeks and the way she was chewing on her lower lip before he looked back into her eyes. ‘Wearing something so tight that it restricts your breathing is hardly going to help any, is it?’

‘It’s not like I planned on falling at your feet.’ Oh, she just didn’t know when to stop, did she?

Amusement danced across his eyes. Before he could say anything the elevator doors opened, so he turned sideways and guided her inside. ‘Push the button, Cass.’

She did. Then Will took a step back and lifted his chin to watch the numbers as they lit up above the doors.

‘You can put me down now. Seriously.’

‘That’s not happening.’

Cassidy sighed heavily. His stubborn streak, she remembered. When Will had dug his heels in over something he’d been an immovable object. It had led to more than one heated debate when they were writing, but back then they’d had one heck of a good time making up afterwards. Naturally now she’d thought about that her body reacted. So she tried to think of the names of all of the seven dwarfs to distract herself—there was always one she couldn’t remember; now, which one was it? Scrunching her nose up while she concentrated didn’t help. Nope still couldn’t get him. Elusive seventh dwarf! She sighed again.

‘Huff all you want, Cass. I’m not putting you down.’

The elevator pinged and the doors slid open while she informed him, ‘You’ll have to put me down eventually. It’ll make it a tad difficult to do the basics, lugging me around like a sack of spuds all day.’

When he turned from side to side to search for the plates on the wall that would indicate where her room was, she waved a limp arm. ‘That way.’

‘Why didn’t you call and say you weren’t feeling well?’

Because a part of her had been looking forward to seeing him again, that was why. Her curiosity had been getting the better of her ever since his e-mail had arrived. Only natural considering their history, she’d told herself. What girl wasn’t fascinated by how her first love looked years after the last time she saw him? It was one of those things that never completely went away. Along with the associated paranoia of wondering whether time had built her memories of him into some kind of magical figure he couldn’t possibly live up to, or whether he would have aged much better than she had.

In the face of further humiliation, she lied, ‘I felt better when I got up.’

‘Liar.’

Cassidy sighed louder than before. ‘I hate that you can still do that. Fine, then—I wanted to know why I was here.’

‘Yes, obviously. Because I didn’t explain it in the e-mails I sent you…’

Was he fishing? She lifted her chin and frowned up at his profile at the exact moment he chose to lower his dense lashes and look down at her. It made her breath catch in her lungs. One man should not look that good! It took every ounce of strength she had not to drop her gaze to his mouth. Then she had to dig deeper to make herself breathe normally again.

She should never have made the trip over. ‘It wasn’t like you picked up a phone to discuss it.’

Broad shoulders shrugged before he slotted her key card into the door. ‘Different time zones. And my schedule has been crazy.’

Cassidy lifted a brow. ‘Liar.’

‘Nope.’ He shouldered the door open. ‘You’re seven hours behind over there. I’ve been dealing with a movie that’s running over budget every second. Any time I had to call you would have been during school hours your end. Plus, if you were worried about making the trip and wanted me to call you, you’d have said so in your e-mails—wouldn’t you?’

She hated it when he used reasoning on her. And when she couldn’t read him the way he did her. Back in the good old days the former had been useful mid-debate, and the latter had been endearing as heck—especially when he’d told her what she was thinking in a husky voice, with his mouth hovering above hers. But now? Now it just kept on making her feel like even more of an idiot than she already did for not realising the physical attraction she’d had for him would be as uncontrollable as it had been before. There was no fighting chemistry. When the pheromones said it worked, it worked. It was up to the brain to list the reasons why it couldn’t.

Setting her gently on her feet by the giant bed, he leaned over to drag the covers back before standing tall and letting a small smile loose. ‘Take it off.’

‘Excuse me?’

He jerked his chin. ‘That industrial-strength whatever-it-is you’re wearing. What is it with women and those boned things, anyway?’

A squeak of outrage sounded in the base of her sore throat. ‘You’re unbelievable. Go away.’

‘I’ll go when you’re all tucked up in bed. Anything happens to you within twenty-four hours of hitting L.A. I might feel guilty for bringing you here…’

Somewhere in the growing red mist of her anger came a question that temporarily made her gape at him. ‘You brought me here? I thought the studio brought me here? Are you telling me you paid for all of this—the flights and the limo pick-up and the fancy room and everything?’

Say no!

‘Yes.’

Uh-oh. Room swaying again. But when his hands grasped her elbows she tugged them away and managed to turn round before she flumped down onto the mattress. Automatically toeing her shoes off her feet, she shook her head and blinked into the middle distance. ‘I thought the studio paid for it.’

‘They paid for a script. We took the money. Now we have to deliver.’

What had she got herself into? She couldn’t be beholden to him. It wasn’t as if she had the money to pay him back—not until they were paid the balance of their advance for the last script. Even then. Every cent was precious. There was no guarantee she could start writing again without Will and make money at it. Not that she’d tried the last time…

A crooked forefinger arrived under her chin and lifted it to force her gaze upwards. Then he examined her eyes for the most maddening amount of time while she held her breath. ‘You need to sleep. I’ll come back later and check up on how you’re feeling.’

‘You don’t have to.’

‘Go take that ridiculous thing off while I’m here—in case you pass out again.’

‘I won’t pass—’

‘Humour me.’

Pursing her lips, she reached for her pyjamas from under the soft pillows, pushed to her feet and scowled at him on her way to the bathroom, ‘I don’t know that I can work with this new bossy Will.’ She lifted her chin. ‘I don’t like him.’

Closing the door with a satisfyingly loud click, she took a second to lean against the wood until the world stopped spinning again. For a long time she’d told herself her life was a mess, but it was a glorious kind of mess. Now she felt very much like dropping the ‘glorious’ part…

She had to sit on the edge of the bathtub to struggle her way out of everything without another dizzy spell. Then she hid the offending underwear under a pile of towels, in case he decided to use the bathroom before he left. Stupid cold! That was what she got for working in a room full of children—she must have incubated the germs on the plane. So much for being considerate and taking the time to see the children through the last term, postponing her trip by a couple of weeks until the summer holidays. They’d repaid her in germs. Bless them.

‘You okay in there?’ He sounded as if he was standing right by the door.

When she yanked it open, he was.

‘You can go away now.’

Will blocked her exit and took his sweet time looking her over from head to toe and back up again, for the second time in as many hours. Only this time it left her skin tingling with more than the cold sweat from her cold. Just one comment about her two-sizes-too-big pyjamas and he was a dead man.

Then his gaze clashed with hers and her eyes widened. What was that?

He stepped back. ‘Bed.’

Cassidy made a big deal about making sure she patted the covers down the full length of her legs when she was between the cool cotton sheets. The room was wonderfully cool too. Had he turned on the air-conditioning for her? Then she saw the glass of water on the bedside table, alongside the remote control for the television, a box of tissues and the large folder with all the hotel’s numbers in it. He’d thought of everything. It was amazingly considerate, actually. It tempered the sharpness brought on by her humiliation, and her voice was calmer as she snuggled down against the large pile of cushions.

‘There. Happy now?’

When she chanced another look at him he had the edges of his dark jacket pushed back and his large hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. He seemed so much larger than she remembered—as if he filled the room. And yet still with those boyishly devastating good looks and that thick head of dark hair, with its upward curls at his nape, and the sharply intelligent eyes that studied her so intensely she felt a need to run and hide…

Half of her silently pleaded with him to go away.

The other half probably wished he’d never left to begin with.

‘I’ll be back later.’

‘You don’t need to. Call in the morning if you like. I’ll sleep.’

The green of his eyes flashed with determination. ‘I’ll be back later.’

The balance of power within Cassidy swayed towards ‘go away’. ‘I won’t open the door Will.’

‘I know.’ He took his hands out of his pockets and backed towards the door, his long legs making the journey in three steps. Then he lifted a hand and casually turned something over between his long fingers like a baton, ‘That’s why I’m keeping your key card.’

Cassidy could have growled at him. But instead she rolled her eyes as she turned away and punched the pillows into shape, hearing the door click quietly shut behind her. After counting to ten, just to be sure, she fought the need to cry. Oh, how much easier it would be if she could hate him…

He was way out of her league now. Way out.

She wanted to go home.

CHAPTER TWO

THE dream was feverish. In the no man’s land between deep sleep and consciousness came vivid images that were a mixture of the past, the present and some imaginary point in time real only in her mind. The sheets knotted around her legs felt cumbersome, still heavy, even though she’d long since kicked the blanket to one side and damp strands of her auburn hair were stuck to her cheeks and her forehead.

She felt awful.

But she was old enough and wise enough to know she was at the sweating-it-out stage. She just had to let it run its course and her body would fight it off. It might mean she was looking at a few days holed up in the hotel room, but it wasn’t as if it was the worst hotel in the world, was it?

The low light from her bedside lamp shone irritatingly through the backs of her eyelids, and voices sounded from the television she had on low volume to help lull her to sleep. She’d never been particularly good with silence. But then neither was she accustomed to the noises of a busy American hotel. So keeping the TV on had seemed like a plan—especially when she’d discovered a channel that showed the familiar programmes she was used to watching at home. That was why it took a moment for her to drag her mind out of its half-slumber into a cognitive state. The door had to have been knocked on several times by then, she figured—with increasing levels of volume…

‘Cass?’ It was Will.

She groaned and croaked back at him. ‘Go away, Will.’

Please go away. Don’t make it worse. Let me die in peace. Then if he wanted to he could come and take her body away and donate it to medical science. She was beyond caring any more.

‘I’m coming in.’

The man had no idea when to take a hint! The next thing she knew the door was open and he was walking in, with a large paper bag in his hand. So she did the mature thing and grabbed a pillow to hold over her face with both hands. Maybe she could suffocate herself…

‘How’s the patient?’

‘Not in the mood for company,’ she mumbled from under the pillow.

‘You have a pillow over your face, so I couldn’t quite hear that. Here, let me help you.’ He pried her fingers loose and removed the pillow. Then he waited for her to squint up at him through narrowed eyes. ‘Hello there.’

Cassidy silently called him a really bad name. ‘Please go away Will.’

Setting the pillow on the other side of her head, he laid the backs of his fingers against her forehead and frowned. ‘When’s the last time you took tablets?’

‘I don’t know—half an hour after you left…maybe…’

‘Time for more.’

Struggling her way into a sitting position, she accepted the tablets he dropped into her palm and washed them down with what was left of the glass of juice on her side table. Then she set the glass back down and lifted her heavy arms to try and tidy her hair before looking up at him from under her lashes.

‘I appreciate what you’re doing, Will. I do. And whatever it is you’ve brought me in the paper bag. But I just need to sleep it out. It’ll be some kind of freaky twenty-four-hour thing, that’s all. I’ve taken my tablets and had some juice, and now I’m going back to sleep. If you leave a number I’ll call you when I wake up. I’m not that bad. Really.’

She then ruined the effect by sneezing with enough force to make it feel as if she’d just blown the top off her aching head. She moaned. Someone should just shoot her.

Will calmly handed her a tissue.

She decided to disgust him to get him to leave, blowing her nose loud enough to alert all shipping routes of an incoming fog.

Will had the gall to look vaguely amused. ‘You need to eat something. I brought you chicken noodle soup.’

How could he? As he reached a large hand into the bag memory slammed into her frontal lobe and ricocheted down her closing throat, wrapping around her heart so tight it made it difficult to breathe. Because he’d done this before, hadn’t he? Only she’d had flu that time. They’d been in the tiny bedsit they’d shared for a while instead of living in halls of residence. As well as bringing her everything she’d needed to feel better, and heating endless pans of chicken noodle soup, he had sat up with her, watched television with her, held her in his arms, smoothed her hair until she fell asleep…

It wasn’t that she’d forgotten. It was just that the memory hadn’t been so vivid in a long time. There had been so many different memories to overshadow it. Heartbreak had a tendency to do that—taking the best of memories and tingeing them with a hint of painful regret for the fact there wouldn’t be more memories made in the future. But right now he was adding a new one. One that was surrounded in bittersweetness because it wasn’t one she could hold onto the same way as the first.

It hurt.

Removing the lid of the soup carton, he wrapped it in a napkin and handed it to her along with a plastic spoon. ‘Here…’

Dampening her lips, she hesitated briefly before reaching for the carton. She had no choice but to slide her fingers over his during the exchange, and a jolt of electricity shot up her arm. Her chest was aching when he slid his fingers away. It would have been easier if he’d just set the carton down. Darn it.

Purposefully she took the spoon from him by grasping the opposite end from his fingers, croaking a low, ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’ He inclined his head.

When she blew too hard on the soup, and splattered just enough hot liquid on the back of her hand to make her frown, she glanced up at him and found amusement dancing in his eyes again. He truly was the most irritating man in the world.

Then he sat on the edge of the bed and turned towards her. ‘If you’re not better tomorrow I’ll get a doctor to come see you.’

‘I don’t need a doctor; it’s a cold—not bubonic plague.’

‘And they say men make lousy patients…’

Cassidy shook her head. Then leaned in and blew more gently on her soup to cool it. When she looked up, Will was studying her intently—almost as if he’d never seen her before. It made her sigh for the hundredth time that day. ‘What now?’

‘You changed your hair.’

The words surprised her, but as usual her sarcasm kicked in. ‘Yeah. Women tend to do that a couple of times in eight years. We’re fickle that way.’

‘Still have a smart mouth, though.’

Which apparently gave him leave to drop his gaze and look at it as she formed another pouting ‘O’ to blow air on the soup. She immediately pursed her lips in response. When his thick lashes lifted she scowled at him. ‘Your good deed is done for the day now. You can go and do whatever it is you normally do at this time of night. Wherever you do it and with whomever you do it.’

‘Whomever?’ The corners of his mouth tugged again. ‘Nice use of the English language. Fishing for details, Cass?’

Cassidy had never wanted to scream so much in all her born days. ‘Writers are supposed to have a good grasp of the language. Not that you’d understand that. I spent half our time together correcting your spelling mistakes…’

She really had. It wasn’t that he couldn’t spell, it was just that sometimes his mind worked faster than his typing fingers.

Then she addressed his cockiness. ‘And I’m not fishing. It’s none of my business.’

‘You could try asking me.’

‘I’m sorry. Wasn’t “it’s none of my business” clear enough?’

‘Not the littlest bit curious?’

‘Why would I be?’

The beginning of one of those smiles started in his eyes. And if it started in his eyes first it was devastating when it made it to his mouth. She knew. So she stopped it happening by throwing out somewhat desperate words. ‘Even if you’re free as a bird it doesn’t make any difference. You and me? We’re workmates. Business partners, if you like. Barely platonic ones. We’re like two people stranded on a desert island who have to make the best of it till the next rescue boat arrives—as good as strangers. You don’t know any more about who I am now than I know about—’

‘You’re babbling. You always babble when you’re nervous. Why are you nervous, Cass?’

Screwing up her face, she set the soup carton onto the side table and slid down under the covers, lifting them and tucking them over her head. ‘I hate you. Would you go away? I’m not up to this. You’re still the most annoying man I’ve ever known.’

‘Makes me memorable…’

Cassidy growled, and promptly ended up coughing when the vibration hurt her raw throat. Somewhere mid-cough she heard what sounded like a low chuckle of laughter. She peeked over the edge of the covers ready to scowl at him and found him lifting his brows in a question, a completely unreadable expression on his face. It made her narrow her eyes.

‘You know we need to get on better than this to work together, don’t you?’

She did, and immediately felt like a fool again. ‘Can we try and get on better when I don’t feel like the hotel fell on me?’

‘When you’re weak is probably the best time to talk this through.’

‘That’s evil.’

Will had more difficulty stifling his smile than he had so far. ‘True.’

He wasn’t apologising for it, though, was he? The rat. Cassidy tried hard not to be charmed by it; she did. But a small sparkle-eyed smile was apparently nearly as effective as a killer one, and before she knew it she was smiling back at him. Then she shook her head. ‘I hate you.’

‘Mmm.’ He leaned forward, his large body distractingly close to hers and his familiar scent somehow making it through her blocked nose. ‘You said.’

When he lifted the soup carton Cassidy lifted her gaze to his hair. He had great hair. The colour of dark chocolate, thick enough to tempt a woman’s fingertips, and distinctly male to the touch when she touched it, but soft enough to encourage her to slide her fingers deep…She wished she didn’t remember so much…

Will leaned back. ‘You need to eat.’

‘Bossing me again, Ryan?’

‘Necessary, Malone.’

Without comment she went ahead and sipped at the soup, her gaze flickering to his often enough for her to know he was still watching her. Not that she needed to look to confirm it. She’d always known when Will was looking at her. In the same way she could feel the newfound tension lying between them.

Thick lashes blinked lazily at even intervals, and then he asked, ‘Good?’

‘Mmm-hmm.’ She nodded. ‘Good.’

Looking around the room for a moment, Will folded his dark brows in thought before he took a deep breath and focused on her again. ‘I think you should stay at my place while you’re in L.A.’

Cassidy almost choked on her soup. He had a knack of doing that to her. But he couldn’t be serious! There was no way she could go and stay at his place—be under the same roof with him twenty-four-seven. They were barely managing to make civil conversation between his short sentences and her loose tongue. And now he wanted them somewhere they couldn’t escape from each other? Oh, yeah. That would help.

Then she thought about the fact he was paying for the hotel room she was in and felt guilty. Maybe if she found a computer and checked her meager bank account she could discover somewhere cheap and cheerful to stay? It didn’t need to be fancy: a bed, a door that locked, a shower, a minimal number of cockroaches…

Will continued while she blinked at him, ‘We need to spitball ideas and get to work. And we never used to stick to a nine to five, so if we’re working through the night it makes sense to be somewhere we can do that. I’ll come get you in the morning.’

Cassidy wondered if there was ever going to be a point where she got to make decisions on her own. ‘Don’t you have an office?’

‘I have one we can work in at home, yes.’

Not what she’d meant, and he knew it. ‘In the city. You can’t run an entire production company from home.’

‘I probably could. But, yes, I do have offices in the city. Still the same problem there—this makes more sense.’

It didn’t matter if it made sense. Surely he remembered that about her? But before she could even string together a thought, never mind form the words to argue it out, he was pushing to his feet. ‘While you’re not feeling well you can take a break to sleep any time you need to. I’ll come get you at nine.’

Cassidy watched him get halfway to the door before she managed to open her mouth. ‘I’m not comfortable with the idea of living in your house—or apartment—or whatever it is you have.’

‘You’ll forget that when you’ve been there a few days.’

‘Damn it, Will!’ She frowned at him when he turned round. ‘You can’t keep riding rough-shod over me like this. If I don’t want to stay in your house I don’t have to. And if it’s because you’re paying for this hotel then I can find somewhere—’

Lowering his chin, he lifted his brows with amused disbelief. ‘You think paying for this room is a problem for me?’

‘That’s not the point. Whether or not you can afford—’

Will shook his head, smiling incredulously. ‘It’s got nothing to do with money. It’s got to do with practicality. Man. I’d forgotten how stubborn you can be.’

Swallowing down another pang of hurt that he’d forgotten anything about her when she remembered everything about him, Cassidy arched a brow. ‘Pot, meet kettle. Regardless of whether or not you can afford to pay for this room, the simple fact is you shouldn’t be. I’ll pay you back whatever you’ve already forked out. I don’t want to owe you anything. This is business and we both know it. Whatever we once had doesn’t matter any more. We’re not even friends now.’

‘And blunt. That part I hadn’t forgotten.’ He lifted his chin and frowned at a random point in the air while taking a deep breath that expanded his wide chest. Then he dropped his chin and looked her straight in the eye. ‘You’re right. It is business. You have a job back home. I have a job here. So the sooner we get this done the sooner we can get back to work. If we dig in, and eat, drink and sleep this script for the next few weeks, we can nail it.’

It was all about the script; of course it was.

Will quirked his brows. ‘Well?’

‘It’s business.’

‘Exactly.’

‘Right.’ She didn’t have the energy to keep fighting with him. ‘Fine, then.’

With his mouth drawn into a thin line and a frown darkening his face, Will swung round and tugged on the door. ‘Nine o’clock.’

When the door closed behind him Cassidy blinked at it. For a brief second he’d almost looked angry. How on earth were they supposed to communicate well enough to write a script if they couldn’t even hold a conversation? She flumped further down on the pillows and put what was left of her soup on the nightstand before tugging the covers up over her shoulders. She felt cold again, she was shivery—and suddenly she had an incredible sense of loneliness to add to her feeling homesick.

Her first trip to Hollywood should be a fairytale experience. It was a dream she’d had since childhood, when the magic of movies had sucked her into the kind of imaginary worlds that had enthralled her for most of her life. Everything about it had fascinated her as she got older: the sets, the effects, the lighting, the locations, where the words the actors and actresses spoke came from. The latter had then become something she wanted to do—she wanted to put those words there. To watch a movie on a big screen and hear words she had written on a flat page spoken by an actor or actress who could add depths and nuances she might never even have thought of.

When she’d got her dream the world had become the most amazing place to her. And she’d got to share that magic with the man she loved. It had been perfect. She had been so happy.

But there was no such thing as perfect happiness. Life had taught her that. Failure had taken the sparkly-eyed wonder from her eyes. Then she’d had to give up her dreams, her confidence shattered, her heart broken, because Will had gone and she’d had no choice but to watch him walk away. The last time she had seen him was indelibly imprinted on her brain, and in the empty part of her heart that had died that day…

Cassidy had felt as if all the magic had been sucked out of her life. And she’d never got it back. Just small pockets of happiness ever since. But then that was everyone’s life, she had told herself. She just needed to get on with it. One day after another.

Even if for a very, very brief moment on her flight over she’d allowed herself to dream again. Not so much of Will, but of the other great love she’d lost. She’d foolishly allowed herself to think about what might happen if she rediscovered her muse and decided to take a chance in Hollywood for a while. But this script was simply something to get out of the way. Then she would go home. End of story. No pun intended.

Then she would have to decide what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.

At nine she’d been in the foyer for ten minutes, glad of the concierge to help her with her bags and glad at how easy checking out proved to be. Still a little light headed, she found a plump cushioned chair and waited…

Will was outside at the stroke of nine. Something else that was new about him. He’d once been the worst timekeeper she’d ever known.

‘You’ll be late for your own funeral,’ she would tell him.

‘Ah, now, that’s the one time I can guarantee I’ll be on time,’ he would tease back with a smile.

Cassidy missed that Will.

The new Will was frowning behind his designer sunglasses the second he got out of his lowslung silver sports car. He said something to the uniformed man in charge of valet parking as he slipped him a folded bill, then pushed through the doors and removed his sunglasses before seeking her out. Four steps later he had his hand on the handle of her case.

‘Did you check out?’

‘Yes.’

‘Any problems?’

‘No. They said it was taken care of.’

With a nod he stepped back, watching her rise. ‘Feeling any better?’

It was said with just enough softness in his deep voice to make it sound as if he cared, which made Cassidy feel the need to sigh again. Instead she managed a small smile as she stood. ‘Yes. Thank you.’

Somewhere in the wee small hours of the night she had decided the best way not to be so physically aware of Will’s presence was to avoid looking at him whenever possible. So she didn’t make eye contact as she waited for him to load her case into the boot of his car. Instead she smiled at the liveried valet as he opened the passenger door for her—though she did almost embarrass herself again by trying to get in the wrong side of the car…

When Will got into the driver’s seat and buckled up she looked out of the side window to watch Rodeo Drive starting to think about coming to life. But they had barely pulled away from the hotel before he took advantage of the fact she was trapped.

‘Want to tell me what’s really bothering you about staying at my place?’

Not so much. No. She puffed her cheeks out for a second and controlled her errant tongue before answering. ‘We don’t know each other that well any more. It’s going be like spending time in a stranger’s house.’

There was a brief silence, then; ‘I disagree.’

Well, now, there was a surprise. They worked their way through intersections and filtered into traffic while Cassidy noticed all the differences that indicated she was in a different country from home. Larger cars, palm trees, billboards advertising things she’d never heard of before, different shaped traffic lights…

Will kept going. ‘We’re not strangers. People don’t change that much.’

She begged to differ. And if she hadn’t had living proof in herself then she had it in the man sitting so close to her in the confined space of what she now knew was a Mustang something-or-other—she’d seen a little tag somewhere. Not that she was going to turn her head to look for it again, if it meant she might end up catching a glimpse of him from her peripheral vision. Just being so close to him, so aware of every breath he took and every movement of his large hands or long legs, was enough for her to deal with, thanks very much.

‘Yes, they do. Life changes them. Experiences change them…’ She had a sudden brain-wave. ‘It’s exactly the kind of problem Nick and Rachel will have when they meet again.’

The mention of their fictional characters momentarily silenced Will. Then she heard him take a breath and let it out. ‘That’s true.’

So it was true for their fictional characters but not for them? How did that work? It was enough to make her turn her head and aim a suspicious sideways glance at his general gorgeousness. ‘It’s not like they’re going to trust each other either.’

‘Well, she did steal the artifact from him.’

‘No—she took it to give it back to its rightful owners. There’s a difference. He’d have sold it on the open market for whatever he could get.’

‘She lived off the money they made doing the same thing in the past. You can’t use that as an argument against him.’

‘Oh? Now we’re saying there has to be moral equivalency?’

Will shot her a quick yet intense gaze as they waited in traffic, his deep voice somehow more intense within the car’s interior. ‘It’s not the best plan to alienate everyone to the hero and heroine before we even get started, is it? There are always two sides to every story. You want to make him into a bad boy then you have to make the audience understand why his morals are lower than hers.’

‘Bad heroes sell. You can’t tell me they don’t. Bad heroines are universally hated.’ Cassidy lifted her chin, but she could feel the smile forming on her face. It was like one of their debates of old. ‘Unless you’re thinking of turning her evil—which, incidentally, you’ll do over my dead body. The audience needs to empathise with her. That’ll sell.’

‘Actually, I can tell you exactly what sells these days. Right now its superheroes and family-friendly.’ His long fingers flexed against the steering wheel. ‘The real money can be found in family-oriented movies, where good is good and bad is bad. It’s black and white. Moral equivalency needn’t apply. Last year seven films with a G or PG rating earned more than one hundred million at the domestic box office, and three PG-rated films were among the year’s top ten earners. Only one R-rated film was in the ten top grossing films—and there was no moral equivalency in that movie, I can assure you.’

The smile on her face faded and was replaced with blinking surprise as he recited it all in an even tone, negotiating increasing traffic at the same time. It seemed everyone in Los Angeles had a car.

He knew his stuff, didn’t he? Who was she to argue? Not that it stopped her. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but haven’t you just proved my point on moral equivalency?’

Silence. Then to her utter astonishment a burst of laughter—deep, rumbling, oh-so-very-male laughter—then a wry smile and a shake of his head. ‘It’s been a long time since anyone spoke to me the way you do.’

Cassidy blinked some more. ‘Maybe people should do it more often.’

‘If they did they’d get fired more often.’

The corners of her mouth tugged upwards. ‘Wow. Who knew you were a tyrant in the making, back in the day?’

‘I’m not a tyrant.’ He seemed surprised she thought he was.

‘No?’ Turning a little more towards him, she leaned her back against the passenger door and angled her head in question. ‘What are you, then?’

‘The boss.’

‘So no one can correct you when you’re wrong?’

‘They can put forward a different point of view, if that’s what you mean.’ He was forced to break eye contact with her to concentrate on where they were going. ‘No one ever does it the way you do, though.’

Cassidy couldn’t help but allow the chuckle of laugher forming in her chest to widen her smile. ‘So no one actually looks you in the eye and tells you you’re wrong?’

‘Not in so many words, no.’

No wonder he’d got so arrogant over the years. If no one ever stood up to him, or gave as good as they got, it would be a breeding ground for arrogance. Irrationally, it made her feel sorry for him. Everyone needed someone who cared enough about them to be brutally honest when it was needed. No one was ever right one hundred percent of the time, after all. Being blunt on the odd occasion to demonstrate another point of view showed you cared enough about them to try and save them from the kind of mistakes arrogance might make. To Cassidy, knowing no one did that for Will made him seem very…alone…

‘She’ll probably feel awkward when she sees him again.’

Huh? Oh, he meant Rachel, didn’t he? Right—script stuff. Stay with the flow of conversation, Cassidy. ‘I doubt she’d have sought him out voluntarily.’

‘So we need something that brings them together.’

Cassidy arched a brow. ‘You’re going to want him to rescue her, aren’t you?’

The one corner of his full mouth she could see hitched upwards. ‘Who doesn’t like it when the hero swoops in to rescue the heroine?’

‘Sexist. Why can’t the heroine rescue the hero? Or rescue herself? Or just be in the same place as him searching for something when they both get in trouble and have to work together to get out of it…?’

Will shot a brief, sparkle eyed glance her way. ‘Okay, then. He has to rescue her from something when they end up in the same place hunting for something.’

Cassidy rolled her eyes. ‘Fine. But I’m fighting for a later scene when she has to rescue him right back.’

‘We’re not making Nick look weak.’

‘Vulnerable—not weak. Women find vulnerability sexy in a strong male. You should try it some time. Might get you a girlfriend…’ The reappearance of her errant tongue made her groan inwardly and avoid his gaze when he looked her way again.

‘You don’t know I don’t have a girlfriend.’

‘I told you, it’s none of my—’

‘I don’t have one right now. But all you had to do was ask.’

Oh, for crying out loud. Not only had she just caused a self-inflicted wound at the idea of him with another woman, but now he’d managed to slip that little piece of unwanted information into the conversation it was only a matter of time before—

‘What about you?’

Yep. There it was. Well, if he thought for one single, solitary second she was discussing the disastrous attempts she had eventually made at having a love life—long, long after he’d left—then he had another think coming. Not that it would be a long conversation.

Lifting her chin, she smiled sweetly. ‘I don’t have a girlfriend either.’

Will chuckled for the second time.

The sound was ridiculously distracting to her. How did it do that? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t heard him laugh before; she’d heard him chuckle, laugh softly, laugh out loud—had felt the rumble in his chest and been in his arms when his body had shaken with the reverberations. She knew how the light would dance in his eyes, how he would smile the amazingly infectious smile that gave everyone around him no choice but to smile along with him. For a long time Cassidy had believed she’d fallen for his laughter first. Yes, his boyish looks, height, gorgeous hair, etc., etc. might have been what had initially caught her eye. But it had been the sound of his laughter and the first glimpse of that smile that had drawn her heart to him.

Since she’d got to Los Angeles she’d wondered if she’d imagined the effect his laughter had on her. As if her memories were tangled up on some mythical pedestal she might have elevated him to over the years. But it was having exactly the same effect on her as before: skin tingling, chest warming—as if the sound had somehow reached out and physically touched her…

Forcing her gaze away, she turned forward in the seat to look out through the windscreen, and was surprised to see the ocean beside them. ‘Where are we?’

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