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Kate’s smile was as sweet as arsenic-laced honey. “Don’t get your hopes up. Men like Julian and Zachary don’t go for extras and assistants – they go for heiresses, socialites and starlets, and even then they’re not faithful past their wedding nights. Everyone knows that.”
Despite the venomous delivery, the words were true. It had been her guiding belief, even if certain people seemed… different. Regardless, Cheyenne had no intention of discussing relationships with Kate. “As I said, there’s nothing between Julian and me. I’m just his personal assistant.” Before Kate could comment further, she hooked arms with Jess, turned away and walked to the refreshment table. She spoke a donut later. “Can you believe that woman?”
“Um… yeah.” Only instead of enthusiastic agreement, Jess bit her bottom lip, playing the role of thoughtful contemplation. Kate frowned. She would keep her eye on the vulnerable starlet.
But not now. Jess got called to work, and Cheyenne ducked into a group of crewmembers. She began another fruitlessconversation, which gave her absolutely no clue as to who the culprit could be, then retreated back to the breakfast spread. No matter how many men she talked to, flirted with, boldly touched, no one offered any illegal propositions. Indecent, yes, illicit, absolutely, but illegal? Not even close.
The production was moving into the final weeks of filming, and time was running out. In a few days, they’d take a week off so half the cast could attend a big Hollywood event, and after that, only a few weeks would remain before production wrapped. Then her chance would be over.
Of course, once her mission concluded, her association with Julian would also end. The thought was surprisingly unsettling and gloomy and just plain horrib–
No.Nothing real could ever happen between them, no matter how tempting.
“There’s my missing assistant.”
Well, that was annoying. Not the large presence above her, the formidable man who painted heat on her skin every time he approached. Not his warm voice or the tingles they brought. No, it was that despite her best efforts, they elicited far too much satisfaction, pleasure and even joy. “Missing?” Cheyenne busied herself with spreading chive cream cheese on a roasted onion bagel. “How long have we been apart?”
“Five hours, thirty-two minutes and sixteen seconds.”
Cheyenne’s hand slipped, and the plastic knife nicked her finger. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
He smiled, and she picked up the bagel. Hewaskidding. He hadn’t actually calculated how long they’d been apart. Because if he had, it would be much closer to six hours, fifteen minutes and eight seconds.
No way would she tell him that.
She moved closer and lowered her voice. “You are kidding. Well, that’s good, because I have the perfect strategy for dealingwith our ill-advised, preposterous weekend. We’re going to forget it ever happened.”
“You can ignore what we shared?” An eyebrow lifted, challenge drafted, sealed and delivered. Then without warning, he grasped her hand. He strode toward the hallway – taking her with him.
“What are you doing?” she hissed. “Let me go.”
“No,” he said mildly.
“This might’ve been okay when you grew up in the age of the Neanderthals, but it’s not okay now. If you don’t let me go, I’ll scream.”
“No, you won’t. You don’t want to create a scene.”
Damn it. He was right. She forced herself to relax, allowing him to more fully grasp her hand as he led her along. If walking hand in hand looked bad, him dragging her to his cave looked far worse. “I’m going to get you back for this,” she hissed.
“No, you’re not.” He smiled. “Mainly because I’m never going to have you cook for me again.”
Wise choice.“In some cultures, spicy food is revered,” she sniffed. “They say it puts hair on your chest.”
“I like your chest just the way it is.”
Cheyenne fought a blush as they transcended the hallway and entered his dressing room. As soon as he released her, she pivoted and pointed a finger at his chest. “Why am I here?”
“We can’t ignore what happened.”
“On the contrary, I’m doing a fantastic job. You should give it a try.”
He leaned against a table. “Actually, you’re doing a terrible job.”
Yes, she was.This was supposed to be a surreptitious relationship, with just little hints for the cast and crew. Yet a few minutes ago, one of the extras asked what type of engagement ring she was hoping for. “I’m fine. We’re fine.Everythingis fine.Now if you don’t have any personal assisting for me to do, I have to get back to…”
“Hitting on the goldfish? Don’t bother – it’s engaged to the angel fish.”
She ignored him. “No, to looking for...” She clamped her mouth shut. She’d almost blurted out too much. How did he make her lose concentration like that? More importantly, had he noticed?