Carole Mortimer - Brand Of Possession

Matthew accepted her determination with a smile, knowing that once Stacy made her mind up about something she very rarely changed it. ‘I'm quite looking forward to meeting the famous Jake Weston,’ he commented.

‘You don't think the lowly workers like us will get an introduction, do you,’ she scoffed. ‘Goodness, you're expecting a lot!’

‘Why shouldn't we?’ He drove the car into the huge hotel car park, most of the hotel full even though it was almost out of season. The film crew had more or less taken over the large hotel, any other guests finding it strange to be invaded with actors and all the technical staff that went with the making of a film. ‘We have as much right to meet him as anyone else.’

‘A man constantly on top of the best-seller list, every book he writes turned into a major film?’ Stacy shook her head. ‘He won't be interested in the lowlies like us. Besides, I've heard he isn't all that sociable.’

‘If he can attend a party of this size he has to be.’

‘Mm.’ Stacy got out of the car. ‘Well, I'm not at all interested in meeting him. He's probably one of those brash Americans who wears loud clothes and calls everyone “buddy”.’

Matthew laughed, as he locked the doors to his blue sports car. ‘You shouldn't generalise. He could turn out to be tall, dark and handsome.’

‘Like you?’ she teased. ‘No, I picture him as being short and fat, probably balding, and in his mid-forties,’ she said thoughtfully.

‘Now I know you're wrong about his age, he's thirty-eight.’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘Well, that's almost forty.’

They had entered the hotel now, the receptionist giving them both a glowing smile as they walked over to the lift. It was all very exciting having all these actors staying here, meeting people she had only ever seen on the television or at the cinema.

Matthew chuckled. ‘I don't think people of thirty-eight would agree with you.’

‘Maybe not,’ Stacy agreed, lowering her voice slightly as someone came to stand behind them. ‘But he's still twice my age, that makes him old.’

‘Poor devil,’ Matthew murmured. ‘Do you fancy a drink before dinner?’

She shook her head. ‘No, thanks, it's a bit early for me. Besides,’ she looked down ruefully at the costume she was still wearing, ‘I think I should get out of this before I get accused of stealing it.’

He laughed. ‘Okay, I'll see you later at dinner. And try not to be rude to our fat, balding, ageing author tonight. I don't want you upsetting anyone else to do with the film, I still have to work here.’

‘Don't worry—like I told you, Jake Weston won't be interested in us.’ She stepped into the lift, moving aside to allow the man standing behind them to enter too. ‘And I promise to be on my best behaviour.’

Matthew grimaced. ‘You wouldn't know how!’

She gave him a cheeky grin as the lift doors swished shut, giving the man at her side, the only other occupant of the lift, a casual look-over. She instantly did a retake. Wow! Now here was a good example of someone tall, dark and handsome,—and she felt sure this individual wasn't Jake Weston.

Stacy had never seen him before, but with those looks she felt he should have been starring in the film instead of Paul Forbes. He was gorgeous, although the dark scowl on his face gave him a slightly satanic look. He had jet-black hair, worn long over his collar but styled, piercing deep blue eyes, a high-bridged nose, and a strong firm mouth that hinted at a steely determination, gave an impression that this man always got what he went after. He was very tall, well over six foot, his wide powerful shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist and firm muscular thighs, all shown to advantage in the black polo-necked jumper he wore and the fitted black trousers. Stacy guessed his age to be somewhere between thirty-five and forty.

She cleared her throat before attempting to talk. ‘Which floor?’ she squeaked, her usually bubbly nature completely overwhelmed by his blatant magnetism.

He looked at her for the first time, those deep blue eyes running coolly over her appearance. ‘I beg your pardon?’ he drawled, obviously not welcoming this intrusion into his thoughts.

Stacy hadn't missed the faint transatlantic twang to his voice, the tone and sound very attractive. She hesitated with her finger on the lift button. ‘Which floor would you like?’ she explained.

‘Oh,’ he nodded. ‘The top, please.’

She couldn't help the slight rise of her eyebrows. The top floor contained the luxury suites of the hotel, reserved for the more wealthy guests. Adding two and two together, namely his American accent and the top floor suite, she would hazard a guess on this man being an employee of Jake Weston.

She pressed the button for her own floor and then lightly touched the top button for her silent companion. She could smell the masculine odour of his aftershave, and her nose twitched appreciatively.

Not normally a reserved type of person she found the silence between herself and this attractive man slightly irksome. Finally she couldn't stand it any longer, turning to look at him, only to find herself being thoroughly appraised by deep blue eyes. Her breath caught and her face flamed at the totally sexual assessment of that steady gaze. She turned hurriedly away, regretting her impulse to talk to him. She was used to causing some reaction in members of the opposite sex, but never anything this blatant!

‘I take it you're working on the film?’

Stacy turned sharply at the sound of that deep attractive voice. ‘Sorry?’

‘By your costume I presume you're working on the film,’ he repeated.

She looked down ruefully at her revealed curves in the low neckline of the dress she wore, her face flaming with colour as she realised this was probably the reason he had been staring at her and not because he found her attractive. He might only be an employee of Jake Weston but she felt sure he wouldn't be interested in a young actress who was only just beginning to make a name for herself— had been. Now that she had been sacked she didn't know what her next job would me, or when.

She nodded. ‘I was.’

Those blue eyes narrowed, the dark shadow on his chin evidence that he was one of those men who needed to shave twice a day. Stacy felt sure he would have a thick mat of hair on his chest too, his skin deeply tanned. She brought herself up with a start as she realised how intimate her thoughts of him had become.

‘Was?’ he echoed sharply.

Stacy was surprised by the intensity of his gaze. ‘I'm afraid so. I've been sacked,’ she answered abruptly.

‘You play the part of Kate,’ he said slowly, thoughtfully.

‘I did. Excuse me,’ she stepped out as the lift doors swished open at her floor. She was surprised when the man followed her out, while the lift moved swiftly up to the top floor, completely empty. ‘This isn't your floor,’ she pointed out hurriedly, unnerved by his proximity.

‘I know that.’ He took hold of her elbow as someone walked past them. ‘Shall we go to your room?’

She snatched her arm out of his grasp, startled by his words. ‘How dare you!’ she gasped. ‘I may have spoken to you, but I certainly didn't——’

His mouth turned back mockingly. ‘I'm not so stupid that I think a polite conversation in the lift entitles me to invite myself into your bed. I suggested we go to your room as a means of gaining privacy, we seem to be attracting quite a lot of attention standing here.’ As if to prove his point one of the porters walked by, turning back to stare at them curiously.

‘Well, yes. But why should we need privacy?’ she asked sharply.

He looked even more impatient. ‘I want to know more about the reason for your being dismissed from the film.’