The Hudsons: Max, Bella and Devlin
Bargained Into Her Boss’s Bed
Emilie Rose
Propositioned Into A Foreign Affair
Catherine Mann
Seduced Into A Paper Marriage
Maureen Child

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Bargained Into Her Boss’s Bed

About the Author

Bestselling Desire™ author and RITA® Award finalist EMILIE ROSE lives in her native North Carolina with her four sons and two adopted mutts. Writing is her third (and hopefully her last) career. She’s managed a medical office and run a home day care, neither of which offers half as much satisfaction as plotting happy endings. Her hobbies include gardening and cooking (especially cheesecake). She’s a rabid country music fan because she can find an entire book in almost any song. She is currently working her way through her own “bucket list” which includes learning to ride a Harley. Visit her website at www.emilierose.com or e-mail EmilieRoseC@aol. com. Letters can be mailed to PO Box 20145, Raleigh, NC 27619, USA.

To LaShawn, a woman who truly embodies the phrase

“dance like nobody’s watching.” You go girl!

One

“What is this?”

Dana Fallon flinched at the irritation and impatience in Max Hudson’s voice. She couldn’t blame him. Hudson Pictures was up against an immovable deadline in shooting their current project, and her leaving now wasn’t the nicest thing she could do to them.

But she had her reasons. Good ones.

Stand by your decision. Execute your plan. Her big brother’s booming “coach” voice echoed in her head even though he was on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean.

She reined in her retreating courage, brushed the dark curtain of overgrown bangs out of her lashes and tucked the ends behind her ear. Her gaze bounced off the disbelief in Max’s vivid blue eyes and focused instead on the V of tanned, muscled chest revealed by the three unfastened buttons of his white Joseph Abboud shirt. Dangerous territory.

“It’s my resignation. I’m quitting, Max. You’ll need to advertise for my replacement as soon as we return to the States. I’ve already drafted the ad for your approval.”

“You can’t quit.” He wadded the paper one-handed and pitched it toward the trash can in the corner of the hotel suite he’d been using as a temporary office for the past several months. He missed. In the five years she’d worked for him, Dana didn’t think he’d ever managed to hit a wastebasket with a paper ball regardless of which continent they were on. Max might be a creatively brilliant producer and film editor, but despite his killer body he had no athletic talents of the team sports variety.

She loved him anyway, and didn’t that make her an idiot since her attachment was completely one-sided and unlikely to ever be returned? It was time she admitted Max would love his deceased wife until he joined her in the grave and move on.

He went back to shuffling papers as if his pronouncement settled everything, and she was tempted to scuffle back to her hotel room with her metaphorical tail between her legs. But she couldn’t. Not this time.

When a job offer from a friend had coincided with the anniversary of her brother’s accident, Dana had realized she was no closer to attaining her goals today than she’d been when she’d taken this job. Her brother had never quit pursuing his dream despite setbacks and staggering odds, and she owed it to him to find the same courage.

That morning she’d promised herself that as soon as she left France behind and returned to California with the rest of Hudson Pictures’ cast and crew she’d seize control of her life and go after the career and family she wanted.

“I have to go, Max. I want to produce my own films, and you’re never going to let me do that here at Hudson. Like my letter says, I have an opportunity with an indie film company—”

“You misunderstood me. You can’t quit—not to work for another filmmaker.” His inflexible tone warned her not to argue.

She’d known this wouldn’t be easy. That was the main reason it had taken her weeks—until the day before her departure from France—to work up the courage for this conversation. “I’m not asking your opinion.”

“Because you already know what I’ll say. It’s a stupid decision and a step backward to leave a major player like Hudson to go to a fly-by-night independent studio. That aside, read your contract. You’re forbidden to work for another film company for two years after you leave us.”

Surprise snapped her shoulders back. She didn’t remember signing a noncompete clause, but she’d been so thrilled to be offered a position at Hudson that she hadn’t read the contract as carefully as she should have. The document in question was in her file cabinet at home. She couldn’t verify or disprove his words. “Two years?”

“Yes. It’s a standard clause in Hudson contracts. It keeps people from taking proprietary information with them when they go.”

He stabbed his fingers through his short dark hair and moved a pile of papers on his desk as if he were looking for something and was irritated at not being able to find it. She fought the urge to spring forward and locate the missing item for him the way she always had in the past.

Helping him and taking care of him wasn’t just her job, it had become something of an addiction—one she needed to kick.

“The timing of your tantrum sucks,” he added without looking up.

She gasped and tried to put a lid on her anger. Hasty words and emotional outbursts never solved anything, and it wasn’t like him to be rude. But then he wasn’t often under this much pressure. The film had to be wrapped and ready before his grandmother Lillian Hudson died from the cancer consuming her body. They were getting close to completion since they’d already begun the postproduction phase, but the clock was ticking. Time was short and Lillian’s remaining days were limited. Everyone involved was working around the clock and tense enough to crack.

Still, anger flushed any lingering reservations Dana might have had about hurting Max’s feelings from her system. When she’d taken this job five years ago she’d intended only to get her foot in the door, gain a little experience and then move onward and upward in a year or two. She was overqualified to be the executive assistant to a producer and film editor—even one as acclaimed as Max Hudson. She had credentials—even if they were of the East Coast variety instead of the West Coast.

She’d always dreamed of producing her own films. But then Max had turned out to be an amazing boss. She’d found herself learning more from him than her years at university and her internships back home had taught her.

And then like a dummy, she’d fallen for him, which made leaving impossible. Until now. After watching him waltz off with yet another blonde last week, she’d realized that if the romantic setting of Chateau Montcalm in Provence, France, couldn’t make Max see her as a woman instead of just an office accessory, then he never would.

She had put her life on hold to be near him for too long. She had to move on. Her brother often said that treading water did nothing but maintain the status quo, and she’d been treading and going nowhere. That had to end. Now.

She struggled to get control of her emotions so she wouldn’t end up shrieking at him, and when she thought she had, she took a deep breath. “This is not a tantrum, Max. This is my career.”

He looked up from his desk, his blue eyes glacial. “You’ll have no career if you try to find work elsewhere in the film industry.”

Shock slipped beneath her ribs like a sharp sword. Shock, hurt and betrayal. Max had a reputation for being ruthless in pursuit of his vision for a film, but he’d never been that way with her. “After all I’ve done for you, you’d blackball me?”

“In a heartbeat. Your leaving now would destroy our chance of finishing before—” He bit off the words and turned his head toward the storyboard hanging on the wall. But she didn’t think he was focusing on the graphic depictions of each scene from the movie.

His jaw muscles bunched and his lips flattened. Watching him struggle with his feelings gripped her in a choke hold. She knew he was crazy about Lillian. They all adored the Hudson matriarch. And the knowledge that they would soon lose her was difficult to handle. But Dana knew Max was wrong about one thing. He could finish this film without her.

He visibly pulled himself together and his eyes found hers again. This time they were hard with determination and devoid of emotion. This was the face of the man she’d seen reduce misbehaving cast or crew members to Jell-O with a few terse lines. She locked her knees to prevent the same thing from happening to her.

“Dana, I won’t let you make me fall behind schedule. My grandmother wants to see the story of her romance with my grandfather on the screen. I will not disappoint her. And I will do whatever it takes to prevent you from sabotaging this project.”

“Sabotaging!” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She’d known he wasn’t going to take this well, but to threaten her? When she’d started working for him five years ago he’d still been reeling from his wife’s death. She’d done everything except breathe for him until he’d surfaced from his grief. And she’d continued to be his right hand ever since.

This was the thanks she got?

Fury simmered inside her. If she stayed in this suite one more minute she was going to say something she’d regret.

“I am going back to my room.” It had taken everything she had to work up the nerve for this confrontation, and she’d crashed and burned because he was being an idiot. She needed to regroup, to replan. Because she couldn’t go on. Not like this.

She pivoted on her boot heel and stomped out of his suite. A stream of Max’s muttered curses followed in her wake. He called her back, but she didn’t stop and she didn’t go to her room. She couldn’t. A sense of claustrophobia engulfed her. She bypassed the elevator, jogged down the emergency stairs and slammed out the side exit of the hotel. Her long stride covered the parking lot as she headed…somewhere—she didn’t know where, but anywhere away from the infuriating, selfish bastard in the hotel was preferable to here.

“Dana,” Max called from behind her. She ignored him and lengthened her stride. “Dana. Wait.”

She heard his footsteps quicken as if he’d broken into a jog and then he caught her elbow as she reached a corner, pulled her to a standstill and swung her around to face him. “Give me a couple of months. Let me get Honor in the can. And then we’ll talk.”

“There’s nothing left to talk about, Max. I’ve asked you for a bigger role and been refused so many times I’ve quit wasting my breath. I didn’t spend all those years and all that money getting a degree in filmmaking to be an executive assistant.”

“I’ll give you a raise.”

She tilted her head back and glared at him. He could be so obtuse sometimes she wanted to scream. “It’s not about the money or even the project. I believe in this movie with all my heart, and I want to help you finish it. But the chance to produce the indie film won’t wait for me. My friend’s company needs me now. The only reason I have this opportunity is because their last producer died unexpectedly. I’ve already made her wait three weeks for a decision. If I turn them down or try to stall them any longer they’ll find someone else. If anyone understands budget and time constraints as a producer, you should, Max. You know I have to move now.”

She could practically see the wheels turning in his brain. His hand slid from her elbow to her bicep to her shoulder, his long, warm fingers infusing her flesh with heat that seeped through the fabric of her blouse and straight into her bones. It wasn’t a sexual thing on his part. But it was on hers. She felt the noncaress deep inside.

She had a love-hate reaction to his touches. She loved how each caress made her feel all excited and jittery and breathless, but she hated how a simple brush of his fingers could weaken her knees—and her willpower—and turn her into putty in his hands.

And he didn’t even notice.

Talk about adding insult to injury.

“Stay, Dana. I’ll give you associate producer credits on Honor. That will give you better credentials whenever you decide to move on. Not that I intend to make it easy for you to leave. You’re the best assistant I’ve ever had.”

His praise filled her with a warm glow, and then reality hit her with a cold, sobering shower. He was talking about her work, not her personally. He’d never see her as anything more than a coworker. And she wanted more—so, so much more. But right now, with his fingertips gently massaging her shoulder, she was too addled to make a decision.

She shrugged off his hand. “I’ll think about it and get back to you before we touch down in L.A.”

“I won’t be returning with you tomorrow. I need another week here, maybe two or three. I want your decision now.”

Frustration and a sense of entrapment made it difficult for her to breathe. He knew if she agreed she wouldn’t go back on her word. Unlike most of the inhabitants of Hollywood, her word was her bond. But if she stayed with him…how would she ever get over him and move on with her life? And if she couldn’t do that, how would she ever have the family or the career she craved?

James, her older brother, her idol, would be so disappointed in her for waffling.

“We both know ‘associate producer’ is a pretty useless title, often no more than a boon given because someone did somebody a favor. I want more than credits, Max. I want hands-on skills. And I know you. There’s enough control freak in you that you’d give me the title but none of the producer’s responsibilities. I’d come away with a slightly better-looking résumé, but without any new abilities.”

A nerve in his upper lip twitched, drawing her attention to the mouth that had monopolized so many of her dreams—a mouth she had yet to feel against hers in her waking hours. A September breeze cooled her skin and stirred his thick hair. She fisted her fingers against the need to smooth those dark glossy strands back into place.

“With the deadline we’re facing, you’ll be working around the clock if you take this position, and I promise you, this won’t be a meaningless title. You’ll get your new skills.” And you’ll regret it, his challenging tone implied.

She could feel herself slipping toward acquiescence and tried to pull back from the ledge to weigh the positives and negatives. As he’d said, any Hudson Pictures product carried clout and a guaranteed cinematic release. An indie film did not. The best she could hope for was acclaim at the Sundance or Toronto film festivals and possible success if that happened and the movie got picked up. But the market for independent films was exceptionally tight right now. Few were selling without big name stars. Her friend’s flick had no box office draws in the cast.

Slim-to-none chances versus a sure thing. Some choice.

Focus on the outcome, her brother always said. In this case, the outcome was a chance to get named credit for working on a major feature film, one she truly believed in, and a credential for her résumé.

She sighed in defeat. She was only twenty-eight. Her dream of a family, of someone to come home to and a career she could be proud of, could stand a few months’ delay.

Although she’d probably live to regret it, this was a chance she just had to take.

“I’ll do it.”

Friday evening Dana palmed the key to Max’s Mulholland Drive house in her damp and unsteady hand, but she hesitated to slot the key into the frosted-glass-and-iron front door.

It was stupid to be nervous. She’d been to Max’s house dozens of times since he bought the place four years ago, but never while he was here. He usually sent her to pick up or drop off something while he was tied up at his office, on a set or away on location. She’d been here several times since the day two and a half weeks ago when she’d left him in France. But tonight felt different.

Should she let herself in or ring the bell? He had to know she’d arrived. Not only had he summoned her the moment his plane landed and told her to drop everything and get over here, but she’d had to stop at the end of the driveway and punch in the security code to open the electronic gates. Whenever the gates were activated a chime sounded in the house. Had he slept through the summons? Or was he working? Either way, she didn’t want to disturb him. She lifted the key.

The door opened before she could shove it in the slot and her heart tripped. Max, with a dark beard-stubbled jaw, a faded blue T-shirt and a pair of snug, worn jeans, stood barefoot in front of her. She’d never seen him dressed this casually before. He tended to dress for success at work, and he’d always demanded the same of his staff. Today’s sleepy-eyed, just-out-of-bed look made her want to drag him right back to the rumpled and possibly still-warm sheets.

Don’t go there.

She dragged her brain back from taboo terrain and studied his pale, drawn face and mussed hair. His body was probably still nine hours ahead on French time and thought it was the middle of the night. After several months in France it had taken her a few days to adjust. “Jet lag?”

“I’m fine. Come in. We have a lot to do.”

Typical male. Refusing to admit weakness and stupidly ignoring the fact that he needed rest. “I take it you didn’t sleep on the plane or nap when you got home?”

“No time. I could use a pot of coffee.”

“You don’t drink coffee, Max.”

“I will tonight.”

“I’ll make it.” She instantly wanted to kick herself. Taking care of him was her past role, not her current one. If she wanted him to give her new duties, then she had to stop doing the old ones.

“Thank you.” He turned and headed back into the house, leaving a subtle trail of his cologne, Versace Eau Fraîche. She knew because she’d had to buy a bottle when he’d forgotten to pack his for a previous trip, and she loved the lemon, cedar and herb notes.

Her gaze traced the tired set of his broad shoulders. When she caught her eyes taking the old, familiar journey down his straight spine to his tight butt, which looked totally yummy in the jeans, she abruptly averted her eyes, tightened her grip on her briefcase handle and mentally shook herself.

Get over this obsession already. He’s not yours. He never will be yours. Move on.

The two-story marble foyer echoed her footsteps as she followed him toward the elevator with her gaze firmly fastened on the back of his head. The doors enclosed them into the paneled space. She focused on the numbered panel until he leaned against the wall—another testament to his exhaustion. Max never leaned on anything. He was too dynamic for slouching.

“Max, you’d think more clearly if you slept a few hours.”

“Later.”

The doors opened onto the second floor. His multilevel house clung to the side of a hill. She knew the layout from her previous visits. The kitchen, living and dining rooms were on this level. His office, the screening room and his private den occupied the third. His massive bedroom and two others sprawled across the fourth floor.

She’d had a few brief stints in his bedroom, but sadly only to pack his suitcase or retrieve a file or a forgotten PDA. She’d never even dared to sit on his king-size bed, let alone crawl between the sheets the way she did in her dreams. And she knew from being asked to pack for him in the past that he didn’t own any pajamas. Did he sleep nude or in his boxer briefs?

Not a journey her mind needed to take.

When she reached the sunlit kitchen she headed straight for the high end stainless-steel coffeepot sitting on the black-marble countertop. She’d overheard Max tell one of his brothers that he’d bought the appliance because most of the women who slept over couldn’t wake up enough to leave without their caffeine. She didn’t want to think about the parade of anorexic blondes through his life. Or his bed. They were a reminder that with her dark hair and eyes and olive skin she could never be what he desired.

“Where’s the coffee?” she asked.

“Freezer.” He sat in a chair at the glass-topped table with his back to the extraordinary view of the city, the distant ocean and the heated pool and spa below the window. Most of the rooms in his house overlooked the same spectacular vista. He dropped his head into his hands, exhaustion dragging his frame downward. The evening light streaming through the glass highlighted every tired crease in his handsome face.

She squashed the sympathy rising within her. He was the one who’d chosen not to sleep. But honestly, sometimes he reminded her of her two-year-old nephew who pushed himself harder when he started to tire rather than risk collapsing if he stopped moving. “The filters?”

He pointed to a dark wood cabinet above the machine and massaged the back of his neck. She yearned to step behind him and do that job for him, to tangle her fingers in his short dark hair and massage the warm skin of his neck. But she didn’t dare. She’d done a lot of personal stuff for him as his assistant, but nothing that personal.

Instead, she retrieved the coffee and then opened the cabinet and located the paper filters. Within moments the energizing aroma of coffee filled the air. She heard the rumble of his stomach from across the room over the gurgling pot.

“Have you eaten, Max?”

“On the plane.”

Apparently, even first-class food hadn’t sated his hunger. “Can I fix you something?”

Old habits died hard. She’d have to work on breaking them after he recovered from his trip. Better yet, she’d hand those duties over to her replacement, if personnel ever found someone who could meet Max’s exacting standards, and then she wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore. That thought made her stomach twinge in an odd way. Who was she trying to fool? She’d always worry about Max.

“There should be some food in the fridge,” his deep voice rumbled without its usual resonance.

“Max, we’ve been out of the country for months. I canceled your catering service, remember?And when I left you in France, you weren’t sure when you’d be home. Since you didn’t let me know you were returning until your plane touched down today, I haven’t reinstated the caterers.”

She checked the Sub-Zero refrigerator even though she knew she’d find none of the precooked meals she used to have delivered on a biweekly basis. As expected, the unit was empty except for condiments and a few bottles of beer. Nothing edible occupied the shelves or bins. The cleaning crew would have followed her instructions to remove any perishables the day after the film team left for France.

She’d have to take care of reinstating the caterers and the maid first thing in the morning. For money, which Max had in abundance, anything could be had—even on a weekend.

“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.

“Later.”

New job. New rules. No more passivity. She was part of his team now—not his support staff—not his gopher.

She grabbed his forearm before he could escape. His muscles knotted beneath her fingers. Heat seeped from his skin to hers. How would she ever get over him if she couldn’t stop this instant awareness? She’d have to find a way. Somehow.

“Listen, Max, if you want to starve yourself and go without sleep when you’re alone, that’s fine. But hunger and tiredness make you cranky, and that makes dealing with you less than pleasant. When I’m around, you need to eat and sleep.”

The stunned expression on his face made her want to take the words back. She’d jumped so far across the line of proper boss-employee conduct that she’d be lucky if he didn’t fire her. But something her brother had said in his pep talk about putting up with the garbage you had to endure and eliminating the annoyances you could had struck a chord with her.

If she couldn’t leave Max, then she had to make an effort to make her remaining time with him bearable. What did she have to lose? She’d already given up on winning his heart. “You can swim after breakfast.”

He pulled his arm from her grip. “That’s not safe. It causes cramps.”

“Oh, please. That’s an old wives’ tale, and you know it. Stop making excuses. Sit down. I’ll get you a plate.”

She watched him mentally debate his reply and then, surprisingly, he nodded. “Let’s eat outside.”

A victory of sorts. She’d take it. She grabbed a tray and piled on the dishes, flatware, coffeepot and casserole. Max took the tray from her and headed outside to the wide patio.

After taking a moment to admire the flex of his thick biceps, she raced ahead to open the sliding-glass door and then closed it behind them. Today he looked more like the smartly dressed, composed boss she was used to seeing in his crisply pressed Pal Zileri trousers and a short-sleeved shirt. Thanks to dealing with his dry cleaning, she knew more about his favorite designers than she needed to.

A steady breeze blew her bangs into her eyes. She impatiently brushed them aside. Now that she was home she needed to make time for a trim. “You should probably find time to visit your grandmother today. She’s asked about you.”

He set the tray on the table and shot her a questioning look. “You’ve talked to her?”

The cool morning air smelled fresh instead of smoggy. She caught a whiff of his cologne and inhaled deeply before she could stop herself. “Of course. I’ve visited Lillian twice since we’ve been back. She’s a bit frail, but her attitude is good, and she’s as sharp and witty as ever.”

He gave her a strange look. Dana shrugged and sat. “My family is on the other side of the continent and I miss them. So excuse me if I’ve adopted some of yours.”

“Where?”

She blinked in surprise. “Where is what?”

“Your family.”

How unusual. Max didn’t ask personal questions. He kept the lines between business life and personal life very clearly drawn. “North Carolina. My father teaches filmmaking at the university in Wilmington and my brother coaches there.”

“That’s where you caught the movie bug.”

“From my father? Yes. He always talked about coming to California and making movies, but family obligations kept him on the East Coast.” Why was she blabbering this stuff? Max hated useless chitchat.

“So you’re doing this for him.”

“No, I’m doing it for me. He and I used to edit our old family movies together. It was a hobby we loved and shared. During high school and college I used to write screenplays, but—”

Shut up, Dana. You’re blabbering again.

“But what?”

“Screenwriting’s not exactly a secure occupation.”

“Nothing in the entertainment industry is.”

“No.” That was why she’d been so thrilled to land a job with a heavyweight like Hudson Pictures.

She lifted the serving spoon to dish up the food, but hesitated when she realized she was about to fill Max’s plate. It was a bad habit—one she had to break. How many times had she fixed his lunch when she prepared hers? In fact, if she knew he was going to be working at his desk instead of out schmoozing for lunch, then she usually spent the evening before preparing something special and then packed enough for two the next day. No more of that.

She served herself and set the spoon back in the casserole dish, letting him get his own.

He did so. “You’ll have to send your family tickets to the Honor premiere.”

Her fork stopped short of her lips. Who was this man? Usually exhaustion made Max grumpy. It never made him likeable and approachable. “They’d like that.”

“I didn’t know you and my grandmother kept in touch.”

A chuckle escaped before she could stop it. Lillian had been a regular contact since the first day Dana set foot on Hudson property as Max’s executive assistant. The eighty-nine-year-old might be subtle, but she was effective.

“Are you kidding me? I run your world and she checks to make sure I’m doing it correctly and to her standards. She has a soft spot for you. Don’t tell her I said so, but I think you might be her favorite grandson.”

A tender smile curved Max’s lips and the love in his eyes made Dana’s breath hitch. If he ever looked at her like that, her new resolution to get over him would crumble.

No, it won’t. You’re past that. Remember?

Right. She’d promised to say yes to the next guy who asked her out. She might even sleep with him because it had been…forever since she’d had sex. Well, a couple of years anyway.

Step one in her twelve-step guide to getting over Max Hudson was to immerse herself in another man…or three.

Yeah, right. You never learned to juggle men.

Maybe it was time she tried. At least her heart would be safe that way.

Except for one fizzled relationship, she hadn’t dated all that much since taking the Hudson position. Luckily she lived in an apartment building populated by attractive actors waiting for their big break. When she had to attend a Hudson Pictures function she asked one of her neighbors to accompany her. That way she always had a good-looking guy on her arm, and she did them the favor of giving them exposure and introducing them to a few powerful people in the biz. A win-win situation.

She pulled herself back to her present. “In all the years I’ve worked with you, you’ve never worked with an associate producer. What will my duties be?”

He seemed to ponder as he ate. “You’ll liaison with the cast and crew.”

“I’ve done that before.”

“You’ll be responsible for checking location details, making sure each of the cast has what he or she requires and you’ll be troubleshooting.”

Not what she had in mind. “This is beginning to sound like my old job.”

“And until I have a new executive assistant it’s my job. I’m delegating.”

“Max—”

“Don’t ‘Max’ me. You asked for this, Dana.”

“If you’d look at the résumés piled on your desk, you might find a new E.A.”

“I have looked and none of the applicants has your qualifications.”

“That’s because I was overqualified.”

He frowned. “I don’t have time to train anyone right now, and neither do you.”

“But—”

“I’ll also need you to check the log sheet.”

She blinked at his change of subject and nearly groaned. Writing down each scene as it was filmed was mind-numbing. Checking it against the film was doubly so. She sighed. “What else?”

“Make an edit script.”

Boring desk work. But, okay, she knew that was part of the process. She forced herself to keep eating although he was killing her appetite.

“Capture the footage and back it up. You do know how to work the editing software, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

She’d spent a lot of her nonwork hours learning the computer program that stored the dailies digitally on a hard disk. A good producer knew how to get his hands dirty in every phase of production. Putting the clips in order was busywork, but at least she’d get to see the raw footage and get a feel for how the film might come together. That part was exciting.

Max’s vision for the story would determine the final product. His editing would set the pace, tone and emotional impact of the film and a million other things simply by the clips, shots and angles he chose to include or cut. Even the sound he chose would affect the final product. While editors might not get much of the credit, the editor could make or break a film.

And then something struck her. “Wait a minute. This is beginning to sound more like editing than producing. And why are you giving me the tedious jobs?”

Max didn’t even blink at her accusation, nor did he deny it. “Because right now that’s what I need you to do. The producer’s primary job is to keep everyone happy, on schedule and under budget. Someone has to do the grunt work, and you need to learn from the bottom up.”

She sat back, her appetite and her enthusiasm gone. “I have a degree in filmmaking, and I served several internships with Screen Gems at the Wilmington studios.”

“You haven’t used any of that knowledge since you graduated, and the technology has completely changed in what? Six, seven years?”

“About that. But I’ve done my best to keep up.”

“Good. Then maybe you won’t slow me down. We’ll move faster if I don’t have to stop and explain things every step of the way.” Max took a few bites of his breakfast. “I’ll also want you checking for continuity errors, specifically the clocks, candles, setting, cigarettes or anything else that might be an issue. Make sure they haven’t changed from shot to shot. No short candles that suddenly get tall.”

“That should have been done during filming.”

“Right. And yet slipups make it into even megabudget films—even the ones that aren’t rushed through postproduction. But I won’t have them in mine.”

He finished his breakfast and rose. “Time for that swim.”

She watched him climb the outdoor, circular iron staircase in the corner of the patio to the master suite and exhaled a pent-up breath when he disappeared inside.

He’d finally given her the job she wanted. But he wasn’t going to make it easy. But if he thought he was going to force her back into her old job he was going to be sorely disappointed.

Because like her brother, she was no quitter. She might have gotten sidetracked from her goals for a while, but once she set her mind to something she stuck to it.

Like saving Max. Or saving herself.

Dana turned away from the sight of Max’s tanned, muscular shoulders and arms cutting laps through the long pool below the window. No way could her brain function with that kind of distraction.

She was determined not to let Max or herself down, but when she stared at the overwhelming mountain of work on her desk and the long list she’d made of her assigned duties, she had to wonder if she was up to the task. Sure, she’d asked for the responsibilities, but Max had piled them on. His pointing out that she was a bit…rusty in her production skills hadn’t helped her confidence any.

But she wasn’t above cheating by calling on an expert for guidance if it meant keeping on top of her workload. She picked up the phone, dialed and pressed the receiver to her ear.

“Y’ello?” The deep southern drawl comforted her almost as well as one of her daddy’s big bear hugs.

“Hi, Daddy.”

“How’s the new job, sweet cakes?”

She wished she could lie and say work was a breeze. “I’m feeling a little overwhelmed at the moment. I’ve e-mailed you a list of the duties Max has assigned me. Have a minute to take a look?”

“You betcha. Hold on a sec.” She heard him tapping on the keyboard over the phone line and then the greeting from his e-mail provider.

Seconds later he whistled. “You’re going to be earning that pay raise.”

“It looks like I’ll doing mostly grunt work and a lot of editing tasks.”

“Yep. But you wanted to polish your skills, and he’s going to make you.”

“I have a question for you. What do I need to do next to keep ahead of things?”

She’d kept him posted via e-mail every step of the way because he was living vicariously through her. Today’s list was just an update. She knew that if she failed in this position he’d be just as disappointed as she, maybe more so.

“You’ve been his right hand for years, so this isn’t too different. Put every tool Hudson needs at his fingertips. With him juggling two jobs—producer and editor—his time is going to be tighter than ever. Help keep others on schedule for him whenever you can, and run interference with the troublemakers and squeaky wheels. Every project has them. Identify ’em as soon as you can and be proactive, otherwise their poison can spread.”

“Got it.”

“When you finish the capturing he’ll start editing, and remember, an editor’s job goes faster if he doesn’t have to wait for the components.”

She scribbled as fast as she could and hoped she could decipher her notes later. “After the basic editing the next editing components he’ll need will be…” she searched her mind, “Sound, right?”

“If he’s not calling in an independent sound designer, that’s it. And you know where to find what you need, don’t you?”

“I do.” During college she’d been shocked to discover that most of the movie’s soundtrack was added during the editing phase. Quite often the audio recorded on location wasn’t up to par and dialogue or sound effects were added later.

There were audio libraries where film companies could buy or rent the sounds or background ambience they needed for a film. The roar of a passing subway train or the hum of a busy city street corner might be used in a dozen other films, but the typical moviegoer would never recognize it as one he’d heard before.

“I’ll get right on it, Dad.”

“That’s my girl. Give him what for. Show him that a steel magnolia can whup a California girl any day. Have they hired the composer for the musical score yet?”

“Yes. It’s not anyone I’m familiar with.”

“Get familiar. You want to be on a first-name basis, so that glitches can be smoothed over quickly and painlessly.”

“Got it.” She wandered to the window and looked out to see if Max was still in the pool. He was pulling himself out, his muscles flexing under wet, tanned skin. Using both hands, he slicked back his hair. His wet trunks clung to him like a second skin, outlining his masculine attributes in excruciating detail. Her mouth dried and her pulsed skipped.

“Miss you, sweetheart.” Her father’s voice pulled her out of the lust zone. She turned away from the window.

“I miss you, too. Thanks for your help.”

“Make sure home is your first stop after you put this one in the can. You’re due a vacation, aren’t you?”

She smiled. He father had never been anything but supportive of her career choice. Of course, that might be because they shared the same dream.

“Past due. I’ll come home for a visit after this is all over. I’ll see you then. Love you, Daddy.”

“Love you back.”

She disconnected and headed for the spare desk in Max’s office. Thirty minutes and six phone calls later she had a list waiting when Max walked in. He looked refreshed from his swim. His dark hair was still slightly damp, and he’d donned her favorite DKNY outfit of gray pants and a white shirt with subtle gray stripes.

She rose and handed him the pages and a memory stick containing the audio files from the library. “I’ve contacted the sound library and found the items on your list. They’re downloaded onto your flash drive. I also have the Foley artist on standby. I’ll call when you’re ready for him.”

She loved watching Foley artists work. Once they opened their little briefcase of “toys” the sound specialists could re-create just about any noise to be perfectly synced to the audio tracks and inserted during the editing phase. Dubbing in voice audio wasn’t nearly as interesting, but it still beat the monotony of logging and making edit scripts.

Max paused, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Thanks. You’ve been busy.”

She shrugged. “That’s my job.”

“Yes, it is.” But there was a new respect in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. His approval made her stomach turn somersaults and her entire body flush with pleasure.

Uh-oh. Getting over him wasn’t going to be nearly as easy as she’d hoped. She’d just have to try harder.

“You have to trust me, Max. I won’t let you down.”

“We’ll see about that.”

And that’s when it hit her. Max might be extremely charismatic, but he was also a loner. He didn’t let anyone in, not even her. If he couldn’t trust her after five years, would he ever?

“Give me ten minutes,” Dana said over her shoulder Monday morning as Max followed her into her apartment.

He ripped his gaze from her butt, but not before registering her nice shape in a pencil-slim black skirt.

What was his problem? Finding her in his kitchen early this morning wearing skimpy shorts-and-camisole pajamas with her dark hair rumpled and streaming over her shoulders had clearly messed up his thinking. She’d been waiting for the coffee to brew or, more likely judging by her worshipful expression, praying to the coffeepot gods to send deliverance from her boss’s brand of evil.

Maybe having her stay at his place wasn’t such a good idea. He liked his space and his privacy. But they were getting more accomplished than they would have in the office.

He checked his watch. “We have a conference call in two hours.”

“Max, I’ll have my suitcase packed in no time.” She dropped her purse and keys on an entry table made from glass and irregularly shaped but sturdy grayed branches. Driftwood? “Come in and make yourself comfortable.”

He did a whip pan of the apartment, soaking up details in a flash. He never would have taken his superefficient executive assistant for the relaxed beach-cottage type, but her rustic white-painted furniture with its bright blue cushions and citrus colored pillows combined with the box-framed seashells and artwork on her walls definitely looked as if he’d just walked in from the beach. Even the straw mats on the hardwood floor resembled the types he’d seen in coastal homes.

Not that he’d had time to see a vacation home recently.

He tried to sync the casual decor with the woman he knew and it didn’t work. He was used to seeing Dana in conservative suits with her hair tightly pinned up—like she was now. He crushed the memory of her long, bare legs, flushed cheeks and heavy-lidded eyes. But damn, she’d looked sexy in his kitchen.

Forget it, Hudson.

Easier said than done. No matter how hard he tried to erase the memory, it kept popping up on his mental movie screen.

He ran a finger under his tight collar. “Did you rent this place furnished?”

She turned in her small living room, her brown eyes finding his. “No, it’s all my stuff. Did you want something to drink while you wait?”

She spoke quickly, as if she were uncomfortable having him in her home. They’d decided to carpool today, since her apartment complex was on the way to the Hudson Pictures studios. It was too hot to wait in the car, so he’d followed her in.

“No thanks.”

“Have a seat then. I’ll be right back.” She hustled down a short hall, and his gaze stayed focused on her hip-swinging gait until she turned a corner out of sight.

The golden, orange and red hues of a large beach scene hanging behind the sofa drew him closer. He could practically feel the warmth of the setting sun reflecting off the water and glistening on the ivory sand. He moved on to a second painting on an adjacent wall of a bright yellow hang glider sailing above the blue ocean. A third picture had caught the infectious grin of a child in a ruffled orange swimsuit playing on the beach with buckets and shovels beneath a colorful umbrella. The pictures, similar in style and technique, were well executed and looked so real he could almost hear the waves and smell the salt air.

He checked the artist’s signature. All three were by a Renée Fallon. Fallon? A relative of Dana’s? He’d have to ask.

A cluster of twenty or so framed photographs drew him to the opposite wall. He recognized a much younger Dana with an older man and woman and a preadolescent boy. She looked enough like the trio that he guessed they were her family. He turned back to the painting of the child, noting the similarities, the same big brown eyes, same smile and same coltish legs and long, dark hair. Dana without a doubt. So the artist did know her.

He scanned each photograph, and it was as if he were watching a much less serious Dana grow up in front of him. It wasn’t until she hit what he would guess were her college years that her expression turned serious and her smile looked forced. What had caused the transition from carefree girl to serious woman?

In the next photo a group of young men in football jerseys surrounded a guy in his late twenties or early thirties. The guy grinned up at the camera, a trophy in his hands. He had Dana’s coloring and a more masculine version of her features. She’d said her brother was a football coach. This had to be him. And then Max realized the boys crowding around him almost obscured a wheelchair. Her brother was disabled? She’d never said.

His gaze returned to the previous pictures where the guy had been a tall, muscle-bound athlete wearing a football uniform. What had happened?

You don’t need to know. Your employees’personal lives are none of your business unless they impact their work.

But Dana had said a wake-up call from her brother sparked her decision to leave Hudson. That made the topic fair game.

A yawn surprised him. He blamed it on lack of sleep combined with Dana’s decor. The space with its pale blue walls and beachy furniture made him think of kicking back barefooted with warm sand trickling between his toes and a cold tropical drink sweating in his palm. The room was surprisingly soothing.

Exhaustion hit him hard and fast. When had he had a vacation last? Maybe after Honor was finished…. No, after his grandmother…He snuffed the thought, rubbed a hand across his face and sat on the sofa. He didn’t want to miss any of his grandmother’s remaining days.

He glanced at his watch and leaned his head against the tall backrest. He’d give Dana two more minutes and then he’d yell for her to hurry up.

But visiting her apartment had stirred his curiosity. Who was the real Dana Fallon? The hyperefficient quiet assistant in business suits or the sexy, mouthy, tank-top-and-jean-wearing woman who’d arrived at his house on Sunday?

He suddenly had a strong desire to find out.

The urge to kiss Max awake was almost too strong for Dana to resist. Too bad almost didn’t count.

“Max,” she called quietly.

He didn’t stir.

Two hours ago she’d come out of her bedroom and found him asleep. She couldn’t remember ever having seen him so relaxed before. He’d practically dissolved into the cushions of her couch. But she shouldn’t be surprised. She’d be shocked if he’d had more than two hours’ sleep last night. He was pushing himself too hard—exactly the way he had after he’d lost his wife.

Why did men always think drowning themselves in work would cure a problem? It didn’t. It only delayed dealing with the issue. And exhaustion made any problem much harder to handle.

While watching Max sleep, something inside her had melted, and she’d known she was in trouble. She’d wanted to cover him, tuck him in and kiss his smooth-for-the-first-time-in-forever forehead. Instead, she’d studied the shadows beneath his eyes that even his tan couldn’t hide and decided not to wake him. She’d known he’d be irritated at himself for falling asleep and even more irritated with her for not waking him, but too bad. He’d needed the rest. Everyone at the studio would benefit if he had a nap, and he’d be sharper for the upcoming meeting.

She told herself she had nothing to feel guilty about, and it wasn’t as if she’d been wasting time. While he’d slept she’d worked from her laptop at her kitchen table. But now his respite was over.

“Max,” she tried again, a little louder this time. He still didn’t stir. Dana dampened her lips and eased onto the cushion beside him. The warm proximity of his leg beside hers made her heart race. Touching him both appealed to her and repelled her. She flexed her fingers. She wanted to stroke his smoothly shaven jaw—ached to actually—but that would only make leaving him all that much harder. And she was going to leave. Eventually.

She debated her options. Shake his leg? She checked out the long, muscular thigh beside hers and discarded the idea. Tap his arm? No, she’d always hated being poked awake—her brother’s favorite method when they were schoolkids and had to catch the bus.

She cupped a hand over the shoulder closest to her and gently shook him. “Max, wake up.”

His eyelids slowly lifted and his unfocused gaze found hers. His mouth curled in an easy, delicious, breath-stealing smile. “Morning.”

The groggy, rough timber of his voice made her stomach muscles quiver. Wouldn’t she love to wake up to that every day?

“Good morning.” Had he forgotten they’d already played out this scene in his kitchen? She hadn’t. How could she forget his catching her looking like a shipwreck victim washed up on the beach? She’d been embarrassed to be caught in her pj’s, but she’d thought he was still sleeping when she’d staggered toward the coffeepot. He might survive on a couple of hours sleep, but she couldn’t—not without a few gallons of coffee to lubricate her mental wheels.

His hand painted a hot path up her spine. She gasped. Then his fingers cupped her nape and he pulled her forward. Too stunned to react, she let him move her like a rag doll. Warm lips covered hers. Her heart stopped and then lunged into a wild beat as his mouth opened over hers.

Shocked, but thrilled, she responded, meeting the slick, hot glide of his tongue as he stroked her bottom lip for just a second before reality smacked her upside the head.

Who does he think he’s kissing? One of his blondes? His dead wife? She jerked free.

Max stiffened and blinked, the fog vanished from his eyes instantly and clarity returned. His hand fell away and his lips compressed. “I apologize. That shouldn’t have happened.”

She fisted her fingers and fought the urge to press them to her tingling mouth. “It’s okay. You must have been dreaming.”

His jaw shifted. “Must’ve been.”

He lifted his arm, checked his watch and swore. “I’ve missed the conference call. You shouldn’t have let me sleep.”

Coming on the heels of her fantasy desire to kiss Max coming true, his accusatory tone rubbed her the wrong way.

“You needed the rest. I’ve called everyone involved and rescheduled the call until noon. It was no big deal, and no one was inconvenienced. If they had been I would have woken you. That’s why I’m waking you now. We need to go.”

She stood, removing herself from the temptation of kissing him again even if he did think she was someone else, and pressed her hands to her thighs to still their trembling. “I’ve left you a new toothbrush on the bathroom counter if you want to freshen up.”

Not that he needed to. He’d tasted delicious.

Stop it, Dana.

He rose, standing so close his scent filled her lungs and his body heat reached out to encircle her. She told herself to move away, but her legs refused to listen. Instead, she found her head tipping back and wished he’d kiss her again, this time fully awake and cognizant of what he was doing and who he held.

As if he’d read her mind, his gaze dropped to her lips. Her pulse rate skyrocketed and her mouth dried. His eyes returned to hers, but while his pupils dilated, his lips settled into an almost invisible line of rejection. “Again, I apologize. It won’t happen again.”

Disappointment settled like a fishing weight in her stomach. “I—it’s okay, Max. No harm done.”

His gaze bounced to her wall of photos. “Is that your brother?”

Another abrupt subject change. But then he did specialize in them. It had taken her a while after she first started working with him to keep up. “Yes.”

“What happened?”

“You mean what put him in the wheelchair?”

He nodded.

“James went swimming at a rock quarry with his college teammates. He dove in where he shouldn’t have. We’re lucky he’s alive. He’d planned to play pro football after he graduated and then coach. He had to abandon the first part of his dream, but he never gave up on the coaching part, and he didn’t let his disability stop him. He’s the defensive coordinator and has plans to keep moving up.”

“And the paintings? Who is Renée Fallon?”

He’d been busy while she’d been packing, and why did he have to ask personal questions now when her brain was still too stuck on that kiss to function? “My mother.”

“She’s very good.”

“Yes, she is. We’re all very proud of her.”

Without another word, he swept past her and down the hall.

Dana quit fighting and pressed her fingers to her mouth.

Forget that kiss happened.

He wasn’t kissing you. Not in his head, anyway.

But that kiss, accidental or not, wasn’t something she could ever erase from her memory.

In fact, she wanted another one.

And that blew her goal of escaping Max and getting a life of her own right out of the water.

Four

Hudson Pictures’ studios in Burbank reminded Dana of home.

The property had a forties vibe that was both nostalgic and quaint. She loved everything about the place from the large, well-maintained buildings housing the sets and equipment to the small bungalows that made up the offices. It was the architecture of those bungalows that reminded her of her grandparents’ waterfront community in Southport, North Carolina, which had been constructed in the same era.

She squashed a wave of homesickness and reminded herself she was living hers and her father’s dreams. Not many people got a chance to do that.

As she hustled through the studio grounds beside Max she couldn’t help getting mushy and emotional. When Dana had first started at Hudson Pictures, Lillian had personally guided her through the maze of buildings recounting the story of her life with Charles Hudson.

Oh, sure, Dana had recognized the subtle grilling the older lady had hidden behind the fairy-tale romance, but she’d been too enthralled by Lillian’s exciting past to resent the inquisition. Lillian’s blue eyes, eyes so like Max’s, still came alive when she’d talked about those days.

Lillian had told Dana that it had been Charles’s dream to make the story of their lifelong romance into a movie, but he’d died back in 1995 before seeing it to fruition. And now Lillian had adopted her husband’s dream as her own—one last gift to him before she joined him, she’d told Dana over their last tea. She wanted the world to know what a wonderful man Charles had been.

Looking at the Hudson matriarch now, no one would guess the older woman had led a secret life as a spy masquerading as a cabaret singer in France during World War II. That’s how she’d met Charles and their courtship had begun, and it was where they’d secretly married. When France was liberated, Charles had been ordered to fight in Germany, but he’d promised to return for his bride as soon as he could. He’d kept that promise, and then he’d brought Lillian here to the home and studios he’d built for her and made her a star. Lillian in turn had made Hudson Pictures a megasuccess, a privately owned filmmaking dynasty.

Dana sighed and pressed a hand to her chest. Every woman should have a larger-than-life romance like that. Her eyes grew misty just thinking about a lover who would cross the globe for her or stand by her through the difficult challenges of life. But so far, she hadn’t been that lucky. She’d had boyfriends in high school and college, but nothing with forever written on it—not even close, but not for lack of looking. She found either friendship or passion, but she’d never managed to find a man who brought her both. And that was what she wanted more than anything.

She was determined to hold out for a true love like her parents’, her brother’s or Lillian and Charles’s. With three excellent examples you’d think she’d have better luck.

“Dana.”

She startled at Max’s firm tone. “What?”

He stopped outside their office bungalow and stared down at her through narrowed eyes. “Did you hear a word I said?”

Her cheeks burned. “Um…no. I’m sorry. I was thinking about the Honor script and how lucky you were to convince Cece Cassidy to write it. She did a great job.”

“Jack convinced her.”

Upon Lillian’s request, Max’s cousin Jack had approached his former lover for the job. “He ended up with a great screenplay from her and found a son he didn’t know he had—a double blessing.”

Jack and Cece’s romance was just one of several connected to Honor’s cast and crew. Was it too much to hope for one of her own before they wrapped? Apparently.

And then she noticed Max’s scowl. “Lillian is thrilled to have a great-grandchild.”

His frown deepened. “Is there anything else you’d like to share with me before we go into this meeting?”

She winced at the bite of his sarcasm, and then she wanted to smack her forehead. Duh. She’d forgotten that according to the Hudson rumor mill he and Karen had been trying to get pregnant when Karen died. Mentioning his younger cousin Jack’s son had not been a good idea.

“No. I’ve made a list of bullet points that require attention and action right now, but I’m not exactly sure why your uncle David is calling this meeting, and he wouldn’t say. I don’t know if what I have is relevant.”

She hurried through the door he opened for her and bolted toward her old desk, where she dropped her briefcase and withdrew a folder, which she passed to him. They had yet to sort out a new office for her, and since her replacement hadn’t been found, there was no rush to vacate the space. Max had rejected each of the applicants’ résumés personnel had sent over. He’d yet to call one single person in for an interview.

“Everything you need should be in here. Do I get to sit in on the meeting?”

“Yes. But I’ll do the talking.”

“Understood.”

He’d barely spoken on the drive in. Was he still thinking about the kiss that, she suspected in his opinion, shouldn’t have happened? She couldn’t stop rehashing it. If only she hadn’t jerked away…

What would he have done?

Nothing. He wasn’t kissing you. He was kissing whomever he’d been dreaming about.

But what if she was wrong? What if he had known it was her?

Excitement made her shiver.

Get real.

All right, so chances were he hadn’t been thinking of her.

Should she tell him she’d enjoyed the kiss? Probably not. If she played her hand and he rejected her, it could get uncomfortable. Would she be able to handle the humiliation of running into Max at one Hollywood event after another? The Hudsons were powerful people. One word from any of them whispered in the right ear and she’d have a hard time ever finding a job anywhere in the movie biz.

That would be a disaster because the last thing she wanted to do was tuck her tail between her legs and run home, disappointing herself, her father and her brother.

But what if she could find a way to make Max notice her as a woman…?

She thought about her brother fighting the odds and winning, and about her father who’d found a way to achieve his dreams on the East Coast instead of the West, and her mother who made a living sharing her color-drenched view of the world with others. She’d faced rejection head-on daily until she’d finally found success.

Dana asked herself how she could be any less courageous.

She watched Max’s stiff spine as he headed for his office.

Every member of her family took risks on a regular basis, with their hearts and their careers. She was the only one who always, always, played it safe. Coming to Hollywood was the only real risk she’d ever taken…and she’d done that only after she’d landed the job as Max’s executive assistant.

It was time she found the courage to gamble on something that really mattered. And what really mattered was Max.

“We have a problem,” David Hudson’s voice said over the speaker.

Dana wasn’t crazy about Max’s uncle. He might be charming on the surface, but in her opinion he was a womanizer who never had time for his children. The only reason she didn’t hate him was because he treated his mother, Lillian, well.

“What problem besides a shortage of time?” Markus Hudson, Max’s father and the CEO of Hudson Pictures, countered.

Dana liked Markus, and she saw a lot of him because he was close to Max and often stopped by the office to chat. Markus was a wonderful husband, father and son.

While only Dana and Max occupied the office, Max’s oldest brother Dev, the COO of Hudson Pictures, plus Luc, Max’s younger brother who acted as PR director, had joined them on the conference call but had been silent thus far.

“What kind of trouble, David?” Max asked.

“Willow Films is making a World War II picture scheduled for release just prior to Honor.”

Dana gasped and nearly dropped the pen she held for note taking. Willow was Hudson’s biggest rival. There wasn’t a lot of good feeling between the two film companies. In fact, the competition sometimes turned ugly.

“Worse,” David continued, “rumor has it the story has some similarities to Lillian and Charles’s. But I can’t get anyone to tell me how similar the two films are.”

“How accurate is your source?” Dev asked.

“I trust it,” David replied.

Dana could feel Max’s tension and see it in the lines on his face. His fingers fisted on his desktop. “Even if we could swing an earlier release at this late date, I don’t think I can finish Honor any faster.”

“We’re not asking that of you, son.” Markus’s voice filled the room. “But we might need to put a PR spin on this to make our film sound bigger and better and different or Willow will kill our momentum.”

“I’ll get on it,” Luc said. “But it would help to know more about their product.”

“I’ll see what I can get,” David said, “but they’re pretty damned tight-lipped.”

Adrenaline rushed through Dana’s system. One of her past boyfriends was an assistant director for Willow, and she and Doug had parted on good terms. In fact, he owed her a favor….

She sat up straighter as she turned an idea over in her mind. Could she get the information this group needed out of Doug?

She opened her mouth to volunteer, but sealed her lips without saying a word. Why make promises she wasn’t sure she could keep? Best to test the waters first.

But the chance to do something to make Max notice her had fallen right in her lap. And she was determined not to blow it.

“Long time no see, babe,” Doug said as he joined Dana at The Castaway in Burbank on Tuesday evening.

Dana had invited Doug to the restaurant in the hills overlooking the golf course because it had been his favorite back when they were dating. Once the sun set and the city lights twinkled below, the setting would be magical. Too bad it had never sparked romance between them.

“I’m glad you could make it on short notice.” She rose from her seat and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. As usual, the doofus turned his head at the last second and she caught him square on the mouth. He was one of those people who kissed every female, young or old, on the lips, and because he was the total package—smart, ambitious, charming and attractive in a golden-boy kind of way—he could get away with it. Unfortunately, there had never been any chemistry between them, not even a tiny fizz. But they’d given it their best shot.

“Lucky you called when you did. The boss and I leave on recce at the crack of dawn tomorrow. I won’t be back for at least two weeks, longer if it doesn’t go well.”

“Ooh, I’m jealous. I love scouting out potential locations. Where are you headed?”

“Can’t say. Top secret. But it’s somewhere warm and sunny with umbrella drinks.” His blue eyes, shades paler than Max’s, glimmered with amusement. He took his seat. “Congrats on the promotion.”

“You heard?”

“Tinseltown is a small, gossipy community. Besides, you were once my girl, so I keep tabs on you. Liking the job so far?”

“Most of it. It has a steep learning curve, but I’m learning from the best.” She wasn’t going to tell him Max was working her fanny off, and she was lucky to get six hours of sleep each night or that she loved every minute of the torture.

“I’ll bet it’s a load of pressure with Honor nearing completion.”

She smiled. He’d opened the subject, which made her job easier. As an assistant director, Doug assisted the director much the way she assisted Max. Doug didn’t actually direct and he was okay with that. She’d have preferred the more creative position. But his job meant he knew a lot about ongoing projects.

“Yes, there is a lot of tension at the moment. I hear Willow has its own World War II film coming out soon.”

“You heard correctly.”

“Is it a romance?”

One corner of his mouth rose in a teasing smile. “Could be.”

“Oh, c’mon, Doug.”

He leaned forward and caught both of her hands in his on the table. It was a familiar gesture, one he’d done dozens of times before. “Why should I share with you? You work for the enemy, remember?”

“What do you have to lose? Everyone in Hollywood already knows the gist of Charles’s and Lillian’s story, and your picture is coming out first. Besides, I introduced you to the person who ended up hiring you for this job you adore, remember?”

Doug used to live in her building and had been her premiere date on more than one occasion before they’d tried and failed to be more than just occasional stand-in dates. She’d made the job connection for him at an after party.

“Good point.” He released her, waved down the waiter and ordered a bottle of champagne. They had been together for about a year, and he hadn’t forgotten her preference for Krug Brut Grande Cuvée. “Yes, it’s a romance. I know how much you love sappy love stories.”

“How similar is it to Honor?”

“It’s similar.”

She grimaced. That wasn’t good. “That’s going to make marketing on our end difficult.”

“Not if you play up the differences.”

That’s exactly what Markus had said. “How are we going to know what those differences are?”

The waiter returned with the champagne. Dana impatiently waited for the whole tasting ritual thing to pass and then opened her mouth to repeat her question. Doug halted her with a raised finger.

“First we celebrate your promotion.” He lifted his glass. She dutifully clinked her rim to his and sipped. The golden liquid bubbled down her throat leaving a nutty, toasted finish behind, but it failed to sooth her agitated nerves. She didn’t need alcohol. She needed answers.

Doug covered her free hand with his. “Dana, relax. I didn’t work on the film directly, so I don’t know the details, but I might have a copy of the script at my place. You can follow me home and I’ll check. If I don’t, then I can probably get you a copy when I get back. After all, as you said, what could it hurt? It’s too late in the game for any espionage stuff.”

Surprise made her gasp. She couldn’t possibly ask for any more. “Will that get you in trouble?”

“I don’t think so. I’ll test the waters first.”

“I don’t want to get you fired.”

He winked. “I don’t want that, either.”

“I could kiss you, Doug.”

“Please do.”

That stilled her for a moment with a twinge of discomfort. “But you know—”

“Dana, just shut up and kiss me. I know it means nothing. But it raises my value to be seen with a hot chick.”

Chuckling, she rose and leaned over the table without bothering to argue about his “hot chick” comment. She gave Doug a quick peck. It was like kissing her brother only Doug wore pricier cologne.

“Celebrating something?” Max’s voice said behind her.

She froze an inch away from Doug’s lips and then straightened and turned. The icy look in Max’s blue eyes made her uneasy. “Uh…hi, Max.”

Max wore his black Jack Victor suit with a white shirt and a black-and-white patterned tie. He looked delicious in a forbidding way.

Doug’s chair scraped as he pushed it back and rose. “We’re celebrating Dana’s promotion. I’m glad you were finally smart enough to recognize her worth.”

She shot Doug a warning glance. Doug ignored her and offered Max his hand. “I’m Doug Lewis. We met a couple of years ago at the Legions premiere.”

Max gave him a brief, hard shake. “I remember.”

Max no doubt did. Dana didn’t think he ever forgot a name or face. But at the time Doug hadn’t been working for Willow. Should she tell him Doug had promised her a copy of the Willow script? No, better not. She didn’t want to get Doug in trouble, and she didn’t want to raise Max’s hopes in case Doug couldn’t deliver.

“Thanks for stopping by to say hello,” Doug added in clear dismissal. “We won’t keep you.”

Aghast, Dana stared. Did the man have a career death wish?

Max’s cold eyes found Dana’s again. “My appointment is waiting. Don’t stay out late tonight. We have a full schedule tomorrow. I’ll meet you in the kitchen at six.”

Having dropped that bombshell, he strolled across to the dining room. Her gaze followed him to a table where he joined his older brother.

Dana turned on Doug. “Are you crazy?”

“Whoa. He’ll meet you in the kitchen?”

She sighed. “Until Honor is finished I’m staying at Max’s house. It allows us more working hours if I don’t have to commute.”

“You’ve had it bad for him forever.”

Her cheeks warmed. “He is my boss and I like and respect him.”

“It’s more than that and you know it. Opportunity is knocking, babe. Why not see if we can stir up a little heat?” He reached for her.

Groaning, she evaded him and sank back in her chair. “That’s why you asked me to kiss you? You saw Max coming?”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

Doug had stirred up something all right. Max’s anger. Max had looked furious to find her out partying when she should be at home working on Honor. She had a mountain of work on her desk and not enough hours in the day to get it done.

She prayed the copy of the Willow script came through. Only then could she fully explain to Max why she was consorting with the enemy.

“You look ready to breathe fire,” Dev said as Max joined him at their table.

“My assistant is wining and dining when she should be at home working.” That was the only reason seeing Dana kiss the guy had pissed him off. The urge to knock the kid back into his chair had nothing to do with the fact that she’d been kissing Max thirty-two hours ago.

For God’s sake, she worked for him. The kiss had been a mistake—one he shouldn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t repeat. Had he learned nothing from his marriage? Business and pleasure were a volatile combination.

“You’re out tonight, too.”

“This is work. We’re here to develop strategy to counteract the Willow competition. Damn, this time crunch is killing us.”

“Rushing the film through production and postproduction has definitely added some pressure. But you can’t expect her to work around the clock.”

“Until this film is done we’re all working around the clock. She knew what she was getting into before she signed on as associate producer, and she’s being paid accordingly. If she’d wanted nine-to-five, she should have kept her old job.”

Dev looked beyond Max’s shoulder and his eyes narrowed. “How well do you know Dana?”

Obviously not as well as he’d thought given the discoveries he’d made in the past few days. Had he ever seen her smile the way she’d been smiling at her date? “Why?”

“Her dinner date is Doug Lewis.”

“I’ve met him.”

“He’s Trey Jacob’s assistant.”

A knot jerked tight in Max’s midsection. “Lewis works for Willow.”

“That’s right. And we have a possible leak. Think there’s a connection?”

Instant denial sprung to Max’s lips. He’d trusted Dana with everything for the past five years. But Dev had planted a seed of doubt and tendrils of mistrust took root. Would Dana betray him? Would she betray Hudson Pictures? If so, why? What possible motive could she have?

Money? He’d seen no signs of excess spending in her apartment, and she drove a four-year-old economy car. She wasn’t into jewelry or designer shoes and handbags like so many of the actresses he dealt with.

A promotion? She’d have less of a chance of producing anything at Willow than she had with Hudson, and she was smart enough to know it.

Max scrolled through his memories. The Legions premiere hadn’t been the only time he’d seen Dana with Lewis. “She’s been dating him for at least two years.”

“I’d say that needs looking into.”

“I agree. I’ll talk to her tonight.”

“Tonight?”

He wished his brother hadn’t picked up on that. “When I get home.”

“You’ll call her that late?”

“No. I’ll see her. She’s staying with me.”

Dev’s eyebrows shot up. “She’s living with you?”

“No. Staying with me until Honor is completed.”

“Same difference.”

“Not at all. It’s business. Working from my home office means fewer interruptions and a way to squeeze more hours out of the workday. She’s downstairs in the guest suite. It’s nothing personal.”

That kiss had been pretty damned personal. His reaction to seeing her with bed head, no makeup and in her skimpy pajamas had felt personal. Why else would he have been dreaming about her when he crashed on her sofa? A seriously hot dream.

Planting one on her when he’d still been in that hazy half-awake state had not been one of his finer moments. He’d be lucky if she didn’t cry sexual harassment. That would give the PR department a serious issue to work on.

“You’re sharing a house. Trust me, women have expectations when that happens. Everything changes.”

“Dana knows the score.”

“I hope you’re right.” Dev got an ah-ha look on his face. “I get it. This is about Karen.”

“No,” Max denied quickly.

“Yes. You don’t want Dana on the road late at night because of what happened to Karen. It’s the same reason you always make your bimbos sleep over after sex instead of kicking them out like a smart man would. Better yet, you could go to their place, leave when you’re done and avoid the messy mornings after.”

“You’re trying to connect unrelated incidents.”

“Liar.” But the insult was hurled in a brotherly tone. “The accident wasn’t your fault, Max.”

He didn’t want to rehash this. Not now. Not while they had so much other garbage on the table. “I need a drink.”

He scanned the area, searching for their waiter. It was because he’d had too much to drink that night while he was wheeling and dealing that he’d made Karen drive.

Is there a lesson here, buddy?

A familiar knot of tension balled between his shoulder blades. Forget the drink. “I shouldn’t have let her drive.”

“She was old enough to make that decision herself, Max.”

“She was tired.”

“Karen could have called for a driver. Wouldn’t be the first time one of us has done that. Or she could have had a couple cups of coffee. God knows she had guts enough to speak up for what she wanted on the job. That night shouldn’t have been any different.”

Another reminder not to get involved with someone he worked with. He and Karen had had a great marriage most of the time, but when they had one of their rare arguments the bad mood had followed them into work and hung over the entire studio like a dark cloud. She’d been his executive assistant until he’d convinced her to quit, stay at home and try to get pregnant.

“Forget it. That’s history. We have a current crisis to manage.” He didn’t need to be raking over old, cold coals tonight. If he did he’d end up drinking too much. Again. His pity parties didn’t happen often, but when they did, they weren’t pretty. That’s why he usually carted himself out of town for the event. This year his tight schedule wouldn’t allow it.

“You’re right. Max, the similarity between Willow’s film and ours might be coincidental. Congruity happens. And if it were any other film company I wouldn’t think twice. But it’s not another company, and if we have a leak then you have to consider Dana as the source.”

He’d already come to that conclusion. “If I fire her, I’ll never get the editing done on time.”

“Then you won’t fire her. Yet. You’ll just watch her like a hawk. Can you handle that?”

She was already living under his roof. All he had to do was find a way to control the hours when she wasn’t working or sleeping and since those would be few and far between until November, it shouldn’t be too difficult.

“I have it covered. And I’ll find out if she’s leaked anything and if so, how much.”

Five

Dana closed Max’s front door and locked it behind herself as quietly as possible, then she turned and spotted a big shadow in the dark foyer. She startled and fumbled for the security panel, intent on setting off the alarm if she had to.

The light flicked on, identifying the shadow as Max. She pressed a hand over her racing heart. The gate chime would have alerted him to her arrival. “Max, you scared me.”

“What did you tell Lewis about Honor?”

She smothered a wince. She’d been afraid he’d think the worst. “Nothing.”

“He works for Willow.”

She heard accusation in his tone, but until she had the script in hand and she was sure delivering it wouldn’t get Doug fired, she couldn’t give Max the whole story. Doug hadn’t had a copy of the script in the pile at his condo. She’d have to wait until he could look around the office when he returned from recce.

“Yes. He works for Willow. He’s been there a couple of years. And you might as well know now that I helped him get the job.”

“So that you could exchange information?”

“No.”

“Did you leak details of the Honor script to him?”

She pushed off the door and met his gaze straight on. “No, Max. Why would I do that?”

“You tell me.”

That he didn’t trust her ticked her off. “You think I sold information to our competitor?”

“Did you?”

The accusation stung. “I was trying to get information from Doug tonight, not give it to him. You wanted to know about Willow’s upcoming film. I’ve known Doug a long time. I was hoping he’d tell me what we needed to know.”

“Did he?”

“Not yet.”

“You kissed him.”

She shrugged. “Doug kisses everybody. It means nothing.”

“Yesterday you kissed me.”

Her mouth watered over the memory. She swallowed. “No. You kissed me. But I get that you didn’t know who…you weren’t awake or aware…that it wasn’t me you were thinking of.”

She was so uncomfortable with this conversation she could barely look him in the eyes.

“He’s your lover.”

She grimaced and curled her toes in her shoes. “He was. He isn’t anymore. That ended years ago.”

“Before or after he went to work at Willow?”

Why did he need to know this?

“About the same time. We didn’t want to be accused of a conflict of interest, so we ended our relationship.” By then they’d figured out they were better friends than lovers anyway. And yes, Doug had figured out she was looking for someone who could make her forget her boss. But Doug hadn’t been that guy. No way was she going to tell Max that.

“Did you promise to meet him again?”

Heat crawled up her cheeks. Not in the way he meant, but she wasn’t going to lie. “We didn’t set a date.”

“But you are going to see him again.”

“I might. He’s a friend.” If he got the script, they’d definitely meet. He was supposed to call if/when that happened and set up a rendezvous. Waiting a week or three seemed like an eternity.

Max moved closer until he loomed over her and she had to tilt her head back to hold his gaze. “I could fire you for that conflict of interest you mentioned.”

Her stomach sank. “You don’t need to do that, Max. I swear I’m not sharing company secrets. I’m trying to help, not hurt Hudson Pictures.”

“Will you sleep with him to get the information?”

She flinched and gasped. “No.”

“Will you kiss him again?”

This was a weird conversation for a man who avoided personal exchanges like he would stepping on a fire-ant hill. “Probably. I told you Doug kisses everybody.”

“Do you?”

She couldn’t gauge his mood. She’d never seen him like this…all edgy and male with a hint of aggression just below the surface. He wasn’t drunk. His words and eyes were clear and she didn’t smell liquor on his breath.

“No. I’m pretty selective who I kiss.”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you?”

He closed the gap between them. Only an inch or two separated their torsos. Her breath stalled in her chest. “Max?”

“I knew who I was kissing yesterday. I always know who I’m kissing.” He lifted her chin with his knuckle and covered her mouth with his.

Dana stood frozen with shock. Fast on the heels of that hair-raising circumstance came a potent cocktail of heat, arousal and adrenaline. His lips pressed hers open and his tongue sought and found hers in a slick, hot caress. A whimper of need slipped up her throat. Her nails bit into her palms as she struggled for sanity and fought the urge to wrap her arms around him.

She didn’t have a clue what was going on or why he was kissing her. And she didn’t care. She’d dreamed of this moment too often to question or fight it. His chest pressed her breasts and their thighs touched, and then his arm hooked around her and yanked her against him. Her heart raced and her skin flushed.

His heat scorched her, winded her, aroused her. The pressure of his mouth on hers intensified, bending her back over his arm, opening her mouth for deeper possession. She dropped her purse on the floor and gave in to the need to wind her arms around his middle for support as the room spun around her.

The warmth of his palm splayed over her hip and rose with torturous slowness to rest on her rib cage with his thumb just below her breast. Her nipple tightened in anticipation. She wanted him to touch her, ached for it. But he didn’t.

His hold loosened and he stepped away. “Don’t see Lewis again if you want to keep your job.”

Dana struggled to catch her breath and unscramble her brain. “Wha-what if I can’t promise that?”

“I’d think long and hard before I refused if I were you. Your job won’t be the only one on the line.”

And then he pivoted and climbed the stairs, leaving her alone in the foyer. Dana sagged against the front door with her heart pounding a deafening roar in her ears.

If she did as he ordered, she wouldn’t get the answers Hudson needed. Surely once she had the script Max would understand and forgive her for ignoring his command?

It was a risk she had to take.

When he saw Dana smother a yawn, Max pushed away from his desk and stood. “Take a break.”

Dana’s brown eyes found his. “It’s not even noon.”

He couldn’t think for the distraction of having her only yards away. He heard each shift of her body, every sigh and even the quiet rumble of her stomach, for pity’s sake. Working in close proximity to her had never been an issue before. Why now when he didn’t have time for this?

“We don’t have time to correct mistakes that slip by because you’re tired.”

She snapped upright. “If I were that tired I’d take a break. I know my limitations. Do you, Max?”

“Of course.” Had she changed perfumes? Her scent seemed stronger. Or maybe he was just more aware of it since that kiss last week.

Why had he kissed her?

Why had she kissed him back?

He plowed a hand through his hair and turned toward the window. He hadn’t slept worth a damn since that night because he couldn’t help wondering what she had been doing during those two hours after she’d left the restaurant with Doug Lewis. He’d worried about her driving on his twisty road after drinking champagne.

But mostly he’d wondered if she’d been in Lewis’s bed.

And why did the idea of her naked and sweaty with Lewis make his gut burn? Must be because of the possible betrayal of Hudson secrets. If she’d shared the Honor script details, what else would she share?

The air inside the office suddenly seemed stuffy. He had to get out of this room. “I’m going for a swim.”

Dana blinked, her long lashes briefly concealing the confusion in her eyes. “Okay, I’ll cover the phones.”

“No, you’ll join me. We’ll both be more alert after a break.” And maybe the chlorine in the pool would kill her scent.

“But—”

“It’s Saturday, Dana. No one important is going to call. Put on your suit. I’ll meet you outside.”

He left before she could argue and jogged upstairs to his room. Changing into swim trunks took only seconds and then he was outside on his private deck sucking up the fresh air and letting the sun bake his skin. Neither did anything to cure the restlessness riding him.

What was his problem?

He descended the circular stair to the flagstone patio. The blue pool water glistened, but a swim wasn’t really what he needed. It was just a way to physically exhaust himself so that he could concentrate.

The door from the guest room to the patio opened, and Dana strolled out wearing a black bikini. He nearly choked on his tongue. She was toned where it counted, but soft where she needed to be. Honey-golden skin wrapped her curves in a mouth-watering package. Hunger hit him like a fist in the gut. How had he missed that she had a fantasy-worthy body?

He shook himself, trying to break the spell. This was Dana, the woman who’d been right under his nose, his right hand, for the past five years.

A woman who’d stood by him through some tough times.

A woman who might have betrayed him.

An idea infiltrated his brain like smoke slipping under a door. What better way to end the pillow talk between Dana and Lewis than by keeping her out of the other man’s bed?

And the best way to do that was for Max to keep her so busy in his bed that she wouldn’t have the time or energy to think about her ex-lover.

The idea sent a rush of heat through him, but his conscience countered with a warning prickle up the back of his neck. Sleeping with an employee was never a good idea. He’d learned that lesson the hard way. But he wasn’t going to marry Dana. She’d already stated her intention of leaving Hudson as soon as possible—if she won the bet. The complication would be a problem only if she stayed on as his E.A.

Deliberately seducing her for personal gain wasn’t the decent thing to do, but it would serve dual purposes. One, having her would satisfy his curiosity so that he could quit obsessing about her and get the damned film completed on time. She’d been interfering with his concentration since she’d moved into his house. Two, by getting closer to Dana he could find out exactly what she’d shared with Lewis and what Lewis had told her about Willow’s upcoming flick.

He walked toward her and saw the exact moment she figured out something was amiss. She froze. Her lashes fluttered and her lips parted—her soft, delicious lips. He couldn’t wait for another taste. God knows, the last two kisses had only whetted his appetite.

“Max?”

As he drew nearer he let his gaze devour the sleek curtain of her long, dark hair and the round curve of her breasts swelling above the black triangles of her top. Nice. Probably real. Real wasn’t something you saw too often in Hollywood. Her chest rose and fell as if she were drawing quick, shallow breaths.

A glint of gold caught his eye, drawing his attention down her midline to just above her modest-by-Holly-wood-standards bikini bottom. A tiny piece of jewelry glimmered in her navel. Closer inspection revealed a heart dangling over the dimple of her belly button, its swing agitated by the fine tremor of her body.

Dana, his conservative assistant, had a navel ring?

He searched her face. Who was this woman who had completely hidden her true personality from him for so long? She stared back at him, eyes wide, pupils expanded, but not with fear or rejection. He saw hunger, a hunger almost as great as his own in her dark brown eyes.

If she’d given him one back-off signal, he’d respect it. The last thing he needed was an employee crying foul. But she gave no such signals. Instead she licked her lips and tilted her head to the side, sending a cascade of thick dark hair across her shoulder to semi-conceal one breast and shoulder. “I—I thought we were going to swim.”

Her whisper swept over his skin like a caress, leaving goose bumps behind. Goose bumps? When had he last experienced those? And she hadn’t even touched him yet. “Later.”

He reached for her. She met him halfway, their bodies colliding with a gentle slap. The fusion of her smooth, hot, golden skin to his forced the air from his lungs. He paused to catch his breath, to wrestle for some measure of control, to remember why he was doing this.

She might have betrayed him.

She might be planning to betray him further.

But the knowledge didn’t kill his appetite. He wanted her kiss so badly he deliberately denied himself the pleasure, grasped her upper arms and backed her toward the house. Anticipation made his mouth water.

Their bare legs brushed against each other, their bellies sliding with each step. Her breasts nudged his chest, her nipples tightened and prodded him, and her quickening exhalations puffed against his chin. Desire pooled in his groin and his muscles clenched. He could feel himself hardening against her. If she had any doubts where this was headed before, she couldn’t possibly now.

He paused on the sun-warmed flagstones outside her room, giving rational thought one last chance to derail him from this irreversible course of action, giving her one more chance to object to crossing the boss-employee line.

“Dana, if we go through that door, I am going to be inside you.”

She took a quick breath. Her hands cupped his shoulders and for a moment he thought she’d push him away. But then she looked at him through her lashes with those passion-darkened eyes and coasted her palms down his biceps and back up to his neck. With agonizing slowness, she scraped her short nails lightly down his arms, over the insides of his wrists, across his palms, before the tips of her fingers hooked his. Sauntering backward with a hip rolling gait, she tugged him toward her room, making it clear she wanted this as much as he did.

Dana wanted him.

The knowledge rocked him, shocked him. When and how had that happened? Before she’d returned his kiss, he couldn’t remember her ever giving him those kinds of signals. In fact, if anything, she’d mothered him, pampered him. Spoiled him, he admitted.

He reached past her to slide open the door. Cooled air rushed out of the house and over his skin, but did nothing to cool his desire. Once they’d crossed the threshold—literally, figuratively—there would be no going back. His feet sank into the carpet. He closed the door behind him, sealing them into the silent house.

The room smelled like her, looked like her. The other her. This woman he didn’t know. She’d added candles and framed photographs of her family and potted plants to the room.

Who was this other woman? he asked himself not for the first time.

He caught her face in his hands and stroked her smooth skin and then threaded his fingers through her thick, silky hair. Her head tilted back, but he ignored the silent invitation. He caressed her neck, her shoulders, her arms, and then he transferred his hands to her hips and drew circles over her hipbones with his thumbs. She shivered and gasped. The sound hit him low and hard.

Easing his hands upward, he outlined her narrow waist and the bottom edge of her rib cage, savoring her warm, satiny skin. Her lids fluttered closed. He bent to kiss one, then the other. Her thick lashes tickled his chin, and her back arched, pressing her pelvis into his. Need stabbed him. He sucked a sharp breath through his gritted teeth.

Dipping his head, he sipped from the shadowy warmth beneath her ear. She angled her head to give him better access. This time he didn’t refuse. The hot press of her hands at his waist jolted him. The unhurried caress of her soft hands up and down his sides urged him to rush, to push her onto her bed and bury himself inside her. He wanted her hard and fast. For that reason he kept a tightfisted grip on his control.

Mindless passion was for college kids. Smart passion, delayed satisfaction brought greater rewards. And purpose. He reminded himself he was doing this for a reason, but that reason was a little hazy when she tasted so good on his lips and on his tongue.

Nuzzling the fragrant spot behind her earlobe made her shudder in his arms. Her nails raked his back and ripped an unexpected groan from deep in his chest. He drew back, putting space between him and fighting the temptation to say to hell with slow and easy.

He traced the V-neck of her top with one finger, his eyes focusing on the nipples beading beneath the thin fabric. He wanted those tight buds in his mouth, needed to roll them around on his tongue and taste her. Instead he circled the band of black around her ribcage and drew a line down the center of her belly. He repeated the circle around her navel and then the top of her bikini bottom.

She shifted impatiently, her smooth, warm thighs sliding against each other. “Max.”

The half cry, half whimper got to him. He’d bet his Lamborghini she’d sound like that when he slid inside her the first time. And that couldn’t happen soon enough. His patience evaporated. He reached for the knot at her nape and fumbled it free. The ties dropped and the fabric slid downward with excruciating slowness before finally baring her breasts. He swallowed hard at the sight of the dusky centers.

Dana reached one arm behind her back and loosened the other tie. The top floated to the floor. He flexed his fingers in anticipation and then cupped her warm, soft flesh in his palms and buffed her nipples with his thumbs. Her breath hitched. She bit her lip. He bent his head and took a puckered tip into his mouth.

Her taste was like nothing he’d experienced before. He savored her unique flavor and her scent filled his nostrils. Her fingers threaded through his hair, holding him close as she arched into him, her free breast branding his bicep. But he wasn’t trying to escape. Not until he’d had his fill of her and cured this damned sudden and irrational obsession that had hit him like a bad case of the flu.

He shifted his mouth to the neglected soft globe and used the moisture he’d left behind to lubricate his massaging fingers on the first. Dana’s fingers tightened, her nails scraping an arousing pattern on his scalp. He wanted more.

“Mmm. That feels good,” she whispered brokenly.

Planting one knee on the floor, he hooked her bikini bottom with his thumbs and yanked it down her legs. She gripped his shoulders as she stepped out of her swimsuit, her touch hot and firm on his skin. He wanted her hands all over him, the sooner, the better.

Letting her nipple slide from his mouth, he looked up at her, at her red lips and heavy-lidded eyes, at the curve of her damp nipples, her small waist. But it was the tiny cluster of dark curls that beckoned him. He needed to taste her. Her golden skin, her sweet center, the essence of her arousal. But not yet. Not when his hunger was sharp enough to cut him.

He pressed a kiss to her breastbone, laved his way down her belly, toward the golden heart. He circled the jewelry with his tongue and she hiccupped a series of short fast breaths. As he strung kisses along her bikini line he used his hands to caress from her hips down the outside of her legs to her feet.

He curled his fingers around her ankles, grasped the delicate joints and urged her legs apart, widening her stance for balance because he intended to rock her world.

“Max?” she breathed.

He worked his hands upward on the insides of her legs this time, his palms coasting over warm, smooth soft skin. She was so damned touchable. The scent of her excitement grew stronger as he neared his target and his own desire pounded through his veins, urgent and unrelenting. He forced himself to take it slow when what he wanted to do was shoot to his feet and bury himself deep inside her with a single thrust.

He reached the back of her knees. She shivered at the scrape of his fingernails along the sensitive crease. He did it again with the same results. She clutched his hair and then released, clutched and released. Her short nails lightly outlined his ears, sending stimulating ripples cresting through him.

He finally reached her thighs and massaged their sleekly muscled length, working his way from her tensed quadriceps and hamstrings to her softer, warmer inner thighs. He traced her panty line with his thumbnails and her knees quaked. Encouraged, he leaned forward and traced the same path with his tongue, simultaneously finding her center with his fingers. She was hot, wet and ready for him. Her hands cupped his head holding him close.

Her fragrance filled his lungs and surged straight to his groin. The selfish urge to flip her on her back on the bed and ride her hard crossed his mind. Instead, he replaced his fingers with his tongue and laved the swollen flesh waiting for him, circling it, tasting it, exploring it until he found the spot that made her cry out and curl her toes into the carpet.

Her taste filled him with a desperate, ravenous hunger for more. More. More. His pulse hammered in his head, almost drowning out the sexy-as-hell sounds coming from Dana’s mouth.

“It’s too much. I can’t.” Her nails dug into his scalp. She tried to pull away.

He clamped his hands on her buttocks and intensified his oral caress. Her legs shook. She tasted so damned good, smelled so good, felt so good. He sucked her into his mouth and pumped his fingers deep inside her. Even without her moan to clue him in, he registered the exact second she quit fighting and went over the edge. Her cries filled the air and her internal muscles clenched his fingers.

He rode the wave with her, savoring each squeeze, each whimper, each spasm. And when her knees buckled, he held her upright. He kissed the pale skin between her curls and the twinkling heart and looked up at her. Her pleasure was a sight to behold. Dusky peach painted her cheeks and her lips were red and swollen from her biting them.

Her eyes slowly opened halfway and found his. The hand she had gripping his shoulder slid up the side of his neck, under his jaw and then she lifted his chin. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” And it had been. He rose and kissed her hard on the mouth.

Reality check. He’d been so eager to lose himself inside her he’d almost forgotten a critical component. “I’ve barely started. But we need a condom.”

Her lashes fluttered and she lowered her chin. “I have some.”

She bit her lip as if embarrassed by the confession, and then walked across the room. He enjoyed watching her move, and the tight curve of her bottom made him grit his teeth. Delicious.

Dana was a beautiful woman. How could he have been so blind?

She withdrew a plastic packet from her purse and turned. Despite the blush on her cheeks, there was a sexual sparkle in her eyes that grabbed him by the hormones and demanded his attention. But there was also a contradictory reticence lurking in the way her gaze bounced from his and the way she chewed her bottom lip. Her tight body language and a slight hesitation snagged his curiosity. He didn’t know what to make of this from his confident executive assistant who handled conniption-fit-throwing actors and on-set disasters without breaking a sweat.

He took the package from her, pulled her close and covered her mouth with his. Her response started out tentative but quickly became so wild and uninhibited she pushed him close to the edge of control. He nipped her bottom lip. She bit him right back—not hard, just playful. Sexy. Enticing as hell. Hunger bolted through him like lightning.

He stroked her smooth back, her soft bottom, and she mimicked his every move, squeezing where he squeezed, scratching where he scratched. He tightened his arms around her, pulling her flush against his erection for one brief moment before bringing his hand between them to find her center. She whimpered into his mouth as he thumbed her still swollen flesh.

She yanked her mouth free. “Max, I want you.”

“And you’re going to have me as soon as you do one more thing for me.”

“What?” Her body tensed in his arms and her nails dug into his shoulders. He quickened his caress. Orgasm overtook her.

“That’s what I was waiting for,” he whispered against her temple once she stopped shuddering.

Her lips and teeth found his shoulder, surprising him with a gentle love bite and punching him with another arousing jolt. She impatiently shoved his swim trunks down his legs and wrapped her fingers around his length. She stroked him long and slow from base to tip and back again.

His teeth clamped shut on a furnace blast of desire. It slammed him like a runaway trolley, winding him, making his head spin. He struggled to right himself and then kicked aside his trunks and tore the condom open with his teeth. She tried to take it from him, but he was so triggered he didn’t dare let her. He grabbed her hand and redirected it to less dangerous territory—his waist. Only that ended up being more hazardous than he’d anticipated as her nails traced havoc-wreaking patterns on his skin with devastating results.

He rolled on the latex with an unsteady hand, ripped back the comforter and backed her onto the mattress. She lay down and he caressed her long, luscious legs apart. He wanted to feast on her, to nibble from toes to earlobes, lingering and making her cry out again and again. He wanted that too much.

How could he want Dana this way when he’d never had a sexual thought about her before that kiss? He brushed aside the question and positioned himself. He intended to take it slow, to control his passion and keep his head the way he always did, but then she wrapped a hand around his nape, pulling him down for a kiss, and simultaneously hooked a leg behind his butt and pressed him forward. Slow and rational ceased to be an option.

He sank deep into her mouth and into the hot, slick glove of her body simultaneously. Hunger grabbed him by the groin and the throat, and a groan of pleasure barreled its way out of his chest. Instinct took over. He couldn’t slow the thrust of his tongue or his hips. She met him stroke for stroke, engaging in a mental and physical tug of war for control. Reining himself in was no longer a sure thing. It was a damned risky proposition.

He fought through the animalistic drive riding him and tried to focus on her pleasure. This was about her, about keeping her from Lewis’s bed. But damned if he gave a flip about his motives at the moment.

He swiveled his hips against her. She broke the kiss. “That f-feels g-good.”

Her breathy, broken words drove him to repeat the maneuver again and again until her back bowed and her nails raked his back, his thighs, his chest. She nipped his shoulder—another gentle love bite—and that was all it took. He crossed the line, the point of no return. He pounded into her. Deeper, harder, faster. Again. Again. Her gasps and cries fueled him.

When he felt her tense, heard her breath catch, he did the same. Fighting his way back from the brink became a lost cause. Orgasm ripped through her, making her body squeeze his and forcing the air from her lungs in a sexy groan. And he lost it. His own release battered him over and over until he was spent. His lungs burned. His arm muscles quivered and then collapsed. He landed on her. It took seconds to regain his strength and lift himself from the warm, damp, soft cushion of her body. Not that he wanted to leave. And that worried him.

Her eyes remained closed, her lashes a dark fan on her flushed cheeks. But it was the smile curving her lips that nailed him right in the chest. He leaned down and brushed his mouth over hers.

What the…?

His arms snapped straight and then he rolled off her and landed on the bed. The bed that smelled like Dana. Like Dana and hot sex.

Why had he kissed her that way? He didn’t do tender gestures. Not anymore. Sex was sex. Basic. Primal. Satisfaction of a need. And in this case, a way to protect his assets. No emotion required or desired.

But damn, he wanted to ask her about that smile. If it meant what he thought it did—that this was more than just physical release for her—then he needed to warn her. Temporary was his MO. His only MO. He would never marry again.

But if he warned her off and she got huffy, then his honesty could cause problems. One, she might quit. Two, she might pout and refuse to speak to him—the way Karen sometimes had. Three, anger might drive her back to Lewis. None of those options would help him get Honor completed on time.

So he’d have to suck it up and hope like hell she didn’t get emotionally attached. Because happily ever after might make for a great film, but it had no place in his life.

Six

Dana couldn’t stop smiling.

She lay flat on her back, eyes closed, fighting the urge to grin like a fool. Max lay beside her. She could hear his rapid breathing, feel his body heat and smell him. She inhaled deeply. Correction, she could smell them and the intoxicating aroma of their lovemaking. The urge to grin grew stronger.

Making love with him had exceeded her fantasies. And she couldn’t ask for more. She was so happy they’d finally taken this step—even if she didn’t know what had precipitated it.

The mattress shifted. She forced her heavy eyelids open in time to see Max leaving the bed. She soaked up the sight of his broad shoulders, tight butt, and long, muscled legs as he bent to scoop up his swim trunks from the floor. Yummy.

He disappeared into the adjoining bathroom without looking back. Something felt a little off. She chalked it up to the awkwardness of the first time with a new partner. Not that she had a whole lot of experience with that circumstance. And he did have the condom to deal with.

Rolling out of bed, she gathered her suit and shifted on her feet as she tried to figure out what to do next. Put the suit back on? Get dressed? Climb back in bed? She still hadn’t made up her mind when Max returned dressed in his trunks.

His gaze rolled over her, lingering on her breasts, which tightened in response to his widening pupils and intense expression. His gaze coasted past her waist and hips to her legs and then slowly returned. His eyes stalled briefly on her navel ring before gliding up until they locked with hers once more. She saw suppressed passion but also caution in his eyes.

Her fingers tightened on the fabric of her swimsuit. A sudden and unexpected wave of insecurity made her want to cover up. He dated some of the most beautiful women in the world. How did she measure up? She certainly wasn’t as skinny as his usual type. And she wasn’t blonde.

“I’m going to take a quick swim and have lunch before getting back to work. Shall I cook enough for two?”

She blinked in surprise. He’d taken her to restaurants for working lunches, but he’d never prepared anything for her or even offered to fetch anything for her from the Hudson Pictures canteen. And while all he’d be doing was heating up something the caterer had left, that he’d offer to include her now made her feel all warm and fuzzy and cherished.

“I could make lunch.” She’d rather stay here and cuddle with him. But they really didn’t have time for that.

“I can handle it. You take a shower or…whatever it is women do after…sex.”

Sex. She’d rather he called it making love. But he was a guy. A commitment-phobic guy. “Maybe I, um, could join you in the pool and then we could make the meal together.”

“I’m going to swim laps.” He turned on his heel and exited through her patio door.

Confused, Dana stared after him. Had that been a statement or a dismissal? Did Max regret what had just happened?

How could he regret what had been one of the best moments of her life?

And where did they go from here? Because for her, everything had changed. She no longer wanted to get away from Max, and she no longer wanted to win the bet. She wanted to win his heart.

Only the hum of the electronic equipment disturbed the silence of the room.

Dana sat at her desk in Max’s home office and tried to focus on work, but her mind kept straying. She wasn’t dumb enough to delude herself that Max was in love with her. Yet. His cool demeanor throughout lunch had proven that. There had been no tender, reminiscent smiles, no wicked glances promising more lovemaking to come later.

But he did desire her. She knew good acting when she saw it, and Max hadn’t been faking his passion earlier.

So why the oppressive silence now?

Max’s office chair squeaked as he twisted to face her. Her heart skipped in anticipation of what he’d say.

“How is the capturing coming?”

Work. She’d expected something…personal. She tried to mask her disappointment. “It’s going well. I should be finished in a couple of days.”

He swiveled back and then stopped. “My family is having a dinner tonight. I’d like you to join me.”

Happiness welled in her chest. He was including her—like a real date. That had to mean something. “I’d like that.”

“We’ll leave at seven.”

She glanced at her watch. She had just over an hour to get ready. And then she realized she wasn’t prepared—not to go to Hudson Manor as Max’s date. “I didn’t pack anything that would be appropriate for a night out. I’ll need to go to my place to change.”

“Back up your work and go. I’ll pick you up in an hour.” His neutral tone lacked enthusiasm and again, that niggling feeling that something wasn’t quite right hit her.

She brushed it aside. They’d made love and he was taking her to his family dinner. As her brother had always claimed, as long as you’re making forward progress, you’re headed in the right direction.

And Max was picking her up at her house. It would be almost like a date. Their first date.

Dana’s palms moistened and her pulse quickened as Max pulled his car to a halt in front of Hudson Manor. She’d been here several times before for functions related to work and to visit Lillian.

But tonight was different. Her role had changed.

Or had it?

It was hard to tell from Max’s demeanor. He hadn’t taken her in his arms and kissed her when he’d arrived at her place. In fact, he was acting as if they hadn’t been lost in each other’s bodies this afternoon.

She shook off her insecurities and looked up at the Hudson’s home through the car window. The French provincial mansion Charles had built for Lillian on Loma Vista Drive in Beverly Hills never failed to impress her. the gray stone facade with its wrought-iron decorative accents tripped every romantic switch she had.

Set on fifteen acres with two swimming pools, four tennis courts, stables plus a carriage house and a guest house, the estate had a fairy-tale quality that made it impossible for Dana to imagine living in such grandeur.

Charles and Lillian had filled the place with antiques they’d bought on their world travels, but the place didn’t feel in the least like a museum. Every other time Dana had come for a visit she’d been very comfortable. Tonight, not so much.

Max came around to her side of the car and opened her door. He offered his hand to assist her out. She grasped him tightly, glad for the reassurance under the changed circumstances. What would his family think about him with her?

She climbed from the car, took a deep breath and squeezed Max’s hand. She deliberately stepped into his body. “Thanks for including me tonight.”

He held her pressed against his length for a moment, but then released her without a kiss, leaving her feeling a bit adrift. “You’re welcome.”

She kept pace beside him as they headed for the front door. Why hadn’t he kissed her? Maybe he wasn’t into public displays? “I can’t imagine what it must have been like growing up here. It’s quite different from my home.”

“You get used to it.”

She laughed at his dismissive tone. “I don’t think so. According to Lillian when she gave me a tour, your house has fifty-five rooms. Mine had ten. There’s a bit of a discrepancy.”

He opened the front door and motioned for her to precede him. She entered the grand foyer with its marble floors, double-wide staircase and soaring ceiling. Until she’d visited Hudson Manor she’d had no idea there was such a thing as hand-painted wallpaper. Back home she and her mother had bought the stuff in rolls and redone the entire house themselves. It wasn’t the same. Not even close.

“Who’ll be here tonight?” She hoped he didn’t notice the nervous quiver in her voice.

He shrugged. “Probably everybody except Luc, who’s in Montana. He and Gwen are too close to the baby’s due date to travel.”

“Hudson Pictures will miss him as the PR director, but retiring to raise a family on a ranch does have its appeal.”

His gaze sharpened. “You’re interested in leaving L.A.?”

She shook her head. “Oh, no. I love the bustle and edginess of the city, but I was raised in a smallish town. I understand the appeal of a less hurried lifestyle.”

The quick shuffle of feet drew Dana’s attention. Hannah Aldridge, the sixty-something housekeeper who’d been with the family forever, hustled toward them. Her hazel-green eyes glowed with a warm welcome. “Good evening, Mr. Max, Ms. Dana. The family is in the front salon.”

“The salon?” Max sounded surprised.

“Appears there’s something to celebrate tonight.”

Excitement stirred in Dana’s belly. Was Max planning to surprise her by announcing their new coupledom to the family?

“What’s the occasion?” he asked, dashing her hopes.

“That I don’t know. You look lovely tonight, Miss.” Dana felt the heat climb her cheeks and smoothed a hand over her black cocktail dress. She’d bought both the minidress and shoes at a studio wardrobe clearance sale. That was the only way she’d ever be able to afford designer apparel.

“Thank you, Hannah.” A part of her wished Max had been the one to issue the compliment. Yes, his gaze had gobbled her up when she’d opened her door to him earlier, but he hadn’t said a word about her appearance even though she’d taken extra care to look good tonight. “How is Lillian this evening?”

“She’s well, and you’re a peach for asking. Go on through. They’re waiting for you.”

On the short walk to the salon Dana tried to rally her courage. She told herself she knew these people and they knew her. She had nothing to fear. But the bats swooping and diving through her stomach didn’t get the message.

The room fell silent the moment they crossed the threshold, tightening her nerves even more. How would Max explain their new situation? If he’d simply take her hand, everyone would get the message. But how would they react?

A chorus of welcomes greeted them. Dana forced herself to smile and wave at the nine people gathered in the room. Max broke away immediately to cross the room to his grandmother’s side, leaving Dana by the door. Lillian looked as good as could be expected for her age and her condition. Her blue eyes twinkled and her expertly tinted auburn hair was perfectly styled. Her private nurse stood just behind her shoulder.

Dana felt a twinge of loss. Lillian’s terminal illness was hitting them all hard, and while having time to prepare for her passing was a gift, that day was still going to be hard for everyone.

Max knelt, kissed Lillian’s cheek and held her hands as he spoke to her so quietly Dana couldn’t hear him. His gentleness and genuine affection for his grandmother tugged at her heartstrings.

At a loss, Dana tried to decide whether to join Max and interrupt his private moment with his grandmother or to impose herself on another group’s conversation. Before she could decide Markus and Sabrina, Max’s parents crossed the room toward her.

Sabrina, looking as elegant as ever in a designer evening pantsuit with her dark blond hair twisted in a French plait and her blue eyes sparkling, embraced Dana and kissed her cheek. “I’m happy you could join us, Dana.”

“Thank you for including me.”

Markus took her hand in both of his and gave it a squeeze. He looked to be in one of his jovial moods tonight. “It’s the least we can do since our son is working you around the clock.”

Her smile wobbled. Max must not have said anything about their being a couple now. But what could he say? He could hardly call his mother and say, “I slept with Dana today, so I’d like to bring her to dinner tonight as my date.”

Okay, Dana admitted, maybe her expectations had been a little skewed. “I’m enjoying the challenge of my new position, and Max is teaching me a lot.”

“May I fix you a drink?” Markus offered.

She did a quick scan of the room. Everyone seemed to be holding a glass. “A glass of white wine would be nice. Thank you.”

“Sweet or dry?”

She wrinkled her nose. Living in California hadn’t made a devoted wine fan out of her yet despite her vacation through Napa Valley on an educational winery tour. She’d learned a little about wine, but only enough to get by. “The sweeter, the better.”

“I have something you might like.”

Markus went one way. Sabrina took Dana’s hand and led her in the opposite direction toward Max’s brother Dev and the very slender brown-haired woman by his side.

“Dana, did you get a chance to meet Valerie Shelton, Dev’s fiancée, in France?”

“I did, but only briefly. It’s nice to see you again, Valerie.” Dana shook her hand. Valerie was Dana’s age, but seemed much more reserved. Dana had yet to figure out what about the cynical Dev appealed to the innocent and reserved Valerie other than looks and money. He was as rich and handsome as the rest of the Hudsons. But she’d always considered the COO of Hudson Pictures to be a bit aloof.

“It’s nice to see you, too.” Valerie gave her a shy smile. “I heard you’ve had a promotion since returning.”

Sabrina nodded. “Dana is Honor’s associate producer now.”

“That sounds exciting.” Valerie glanced at Dev. The adoration shining in her violet eyes made Dana’s breath catch. She hoped her feelings toward Max weren’t as obvious to everyone around them. She’d have to be more careful.

Dev didn’t seem to notice Valerie’s tender regard. In fact, his cool blue eyes were watching Dana. Was he also concerned about her dinner with Doug? She prayed Doug would come through with the script so she could put both Dev’s and Max’s minds at ease.

Dana forced her attention back to Valerie. “It’s a dream job, but it’s also hard work. No one wants to disappoint Lillian.”

Markus returned to Dana’s side and offered her a wineglass of pale gold liquid. “Try this, Dana. It’s a German Riesling, 2006 vintage.”

She accepted the glass and dutifully sniffed and sipped and rolled the wine around on her tongue as she’d been taught before swallowing. “It’s very good. Nice and fruity. Thank you.”

“Excellent. Let me know if you need a refill.”

A tap on the shoulder made Dana turn. Bella, Max’s baby sister, stood beside her. She had Max’s blue eyes, and her grandmother’s auburn hair. “Doesn’t look like Max has you tearing out your hair yet.”

“Not yet.” Dana’s gaze tracked him to the opposite side of the room where he now stood talking to his cousin Jack and David, Max’s uncle and Jack’s father, with his back to her. David was Honor’s director. She tried not to feel hurt by Max’s neglect, but she had expected to be by his side tonight, not on opposite sides of the room.

Dana returned her attention to Bella. They’d known each other superficially for years because of Hudson Pictures, but not all that well until they’d gotten to know each other better while on location in France. Bella was not only beautiful, she was feisty and a lot of fun—when she wasn’t wrapped up in her costar.

Dana scanned the room for Bella’s man of the moment. Bella had played Lillian in Honor. Ridley Sinclair, a box-office star and Bella’s current beau, had played Charles. Dana wasn’t crazy about Ridley and thought Bella could do better than a guy so self-absorbed, but their off-screen romance had burned pretty hot.

“Is Ridley joining us tonight?”

“No. He’s off doing…whatever.” She waved a dismissive hand, but sounded a bit put out.

Markus patted his daughter on the shoulder. “I’ll leave you ladies to catch up.” He left to rejoin his wife.

Bella hooked her arm through Dana’s. “Excuse us, Valerie and Dev. Dana, do you remember Cece, Cousin Jack’s wife?”

“Yes, I do. Max worked quite a bit with Cece on fine-tuning the script.” But Dana let herself be led to Jack, Cece and Max’s side, hoping Bella hadn’t seen the same lovestruck expression on her face that Valerie had displayed earlier. David stood on the fringe of the group.

Cece was a petite brunette, a brilliant scriptwriter and obviously in love with her husband. She grimaced as Dana and Bella approached. “They’re talking shop again. Didn’t Lillian forbid that tonight?”

“I did,” Lillian called out. She winked at them and beckoned Dana.

“Excuse me,” Dana said before going to Lillian’s side. She kissed the papery cheek.

Lillian squeezed her hand. “You’ve made progress.” Dana drew back. “I’m sorry?”

“He was watching you while he was talking to me.”

Dana’s heart skipped a beat. She started to turn and look at Max, but Lillian caught her hand. “Don’t look, dear. Never give all your secrets away. It gives a man too much power.”

“Max was watching me?” she whispered.

Lillian nodded.

A blush scorched Dana’s cheeks. “We’re spending a lot of time together. Working,” she added hastily, because there were some things you just didn’t share with a man’s grandmother.

On one of Dana’s recent visits Lillian had confessed she’d known about Dana’s crush for years and kept hoping her grandson would wise up. But she’d also warned Dana that Max’s love for Karen had been all-consuming and her loss devastating. She wasn’t sure Max would ever love that deeply again.

“Of course you are, dear. I’m glad he’s giving you a chance to pursue your dream and that he brought you tonight. Keep up the good work. And remember, Dana, the best things in life are worth waiting for.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll try not to forget.”

“Take care of him.” The after I’m gone remained unspoken. But those silent words put a lump in Dana’s throat.

“You know I’ll do my best as long as I’m with him.”

Lillian shoed her back to Max’s side. Dana desperately wanted to take his hand, but didn’t know if the gesture would be welcomed.

“No little man tonight?” she asked Cece.

Cece and Jack both smiled at the reference to their son—the son Jack hadn’t known about until he’d tracked Cece down to ask her to write the script.

Cece shook her head. “We left Theo at home. This would be too late an evening for him.”

“Good point.” Dana had seen Theo only a few times, but he looked exactly like his black-haired, blue-eyed daddy, and he was completely precious. An old familiar ache squeezed her chest. Way back when, she’d believed she’d have several children of her own by the time she reached twenty-eight. “Let me know if you ever need a babysitter.”

Cece grinned mischievously. “Don’t make that offer lightly. I know your number.”

Bella, her eyes brimming with excitement, shifted on her heels. “So is everything ready for the sixtieth anniversary bash and the movie preview?”

Jack nodded. “My staff has everything under control.”

Bella looked at Dana. “I can’t wait to see the first cut to see if I did Lillian proud. I mean, I saw the dailies, but…”

Dana touched her arm. “Bella, from what I’ve seen so far, you have nothing to be worried about. And once Max works his magic…”

Bella gave her a quick hug. “The three of us, you, me and Cece, are going to have to do some serious shopping. Oh, and we should probably include Valerie. I want a drop-dead gorgeous dress for this.”

David rolled his eyes. “Shopping. That’s one topic guaranteed to run any man away.” He excused himself and went to his mother’s side.

Max’s gaze followed him and then he turned to Jack once David was out of earshot. “Is everyone behaving tonight?”

“Yes. Your father and mine are keeping it civil. For a change.”

David Hudson did not get along well with his older brother or his brother’s wife. There was a tension between them that Dana hadn’t figured out yet despite the numerous interactions between David and Max. As director and producer they worked closely together.

Max scanned their little gathering. “Hannah said there was going to be a celebration. Anybody know what’s going on?”

Jack shook his head. “No clue. Cece and I have no news. You?”

Dana tensed and waited, holding her breath, but Max shook his head. “Not me.”

Her hopes sank like lead. She’d waited so long for it to happen that she really wanted to share the news that they were a couple. It was practically bubbling inside her.

Dev joined them with Valerie trailing behind. “I can answer your question.” Dev turned to the room and used his key to tap on his glass. “May I have everyone’s attention?”

He waited until the room fell silent. “Valerie and I eloped yesterday.”

Gasps and surprised grunts filled the room. After a startled moment, Sabrina and Markus made their way across the room. Sabrina hugged her son and then her new daughter-in-law. Markus shook Dev’s hand and then briefly embraced Valerie.

“Valerie, darling, welcome to the family,” Sabrina said, and then turned her hurt eyes on Dev. “I wish you’d let me arrange your wedding. Your father and I would have enjoyed sharing such a special moment.”

Dev shrugged. “We didn’t want fanfare.”

“A wedding on the estate grounds would have been nice,” Lillian added.

“Oh, that’s a lovely idea,” Valerie gushed, but then seemed to regret her words. “But Dev and I couldn’t wait.”

Dana thought Valerie looked as if she would have liked some pageantry.

“Are you pregnant?” Bella asked bluntly, but not unkindly.

Valerie’s cheeks turned crimson. She dipped her chin. “No. Oh, no. That’s not what I meant.”

An awkward silence descended. Dana moved forward to hug Valerie and break up the uncomfortable moment. “Congratulations. Perhaps I could arrange a belated bridal shower for you?”

Valerie’s eyes filled with gratitude. “That would be nice, Dana. Although I’m sure we won’t require any wedding presents. Dev tells me he’d like to live here in his suite of rooms.”

“Every woman needs gifts. Sexy lingerie, for example,” Bella said with a wicked smile that made Valerie blush more.

“I’ll call next week and we’ll work out the details.” Dana stepped aside and let others offer their good wishes.

She glanced at Max and found his narrowed eyes focused on her. What was he thinking? From his forbidding expression she’d bet he wasn’t remotely interested in following in his brother’s footsteps to the altar.

All she had to do was find a way to change his mind, because there was nothing she’d like more than to marry Max on the grounds of Hudson Manor and begin her own fairy-tale romance.

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