Romy Sommer - To Catch a Star

Only when he stepped close did she betray herself with a startled breath.

“So you’ve come to slum it here among us philistines, have you? Or are you here to help out the less fortunate ?”

Another woman might have blushed. But Teresa’s cool gaze swept over him, evaluating, unimpressed. It was last night all over again. She made him feel two feet tall, like the bastard kid he’d once been, blamed for every schoolyard prank within a mile, and made to feel like dirt for no other reason than that he had no father.

Or perhaps because the colour of his skin betrayed the fact that his father had been a white man, making him an outsider twice over.

But this was no dusty playground on Los Pajaros. They were on his turf now. And for once he had the upper hand.

“Why do you want to work for me?”

“Because I’m star-struck?” She was mocking him now. He held her gaze and waited.

She let her breath out on a sigh. “Because last night I was told I needed to walk in someone else’s shoes for a while.”

She kept her head high and held his challenging gaze. He admired a woman with spunk. She would definitely be fun to break.

“And just like that you decided to get a real job?”

“Until then I thought I’d slum it here in La-la land.”

She was either mocking him or flirting with him, but he couldn’t decide which since her face gave nothing away. Either way, she piqued his interest. There was more going on beneath the picture-perfect surface this woman portrayed to the world. As an actor, he knew one when he saw one.

“Give me one reason why I should hire you.”

She met his gaze, more like an equal than the usual deferential, sycophantic assistants he had back in LA. “Because I’m efficient, I can multi-task and I know my way around this town. I can get you a table at any restaurant at the drop of a hat and tickets to any show in town. That’s five reasons. Do you need more?”

So she was a still a smart ass. But in spite of himself he smiled. “You understand you’ll be on call to me twenty-four-seven? There’ll be no time for volunteer work.” Or a life. “And when I say jump… ”

“I ask how high? ”

He grinned, enjoying himself. “No sweetheart. You don’t need to ask. You jump as high as you possibly can, with everything you have in you.”

He was sure she was going to tell him to take the job and shove it so she could go back to having her hands manicured, or whatever the idle rich did to while away the time.

And just like that he changed his mind. The idea of owning her for the next three weeks was much more appealing than watching her walk away with her pretty tail between her legs. No, he wasn’t going to send her packing. He’d give her the job. And he’d get his revenge in the most pleasurable way possible.

He wouldn’t just crack that damned composure. He’d see her completely undone.

Once again he imagined those long legs wrapped around him. Naked, unbuttoned. She wouldn’t call him a philistine when he was inside her.

He grinned, with all the charm he was famous for. “Shall we start afresh? Hi, I’m Christian Taylor.” He held out his hand.

“Teresa Adler.” She shook his hand. Her touch was as cool and impersonal as her voice. She tried to pull her hand out of his as soon as it was polite, as if the contact stung her delicate pale skin. “I am really, really sorry for the things I said last night. It was inexcusable and I apologise.”

“You had a very good excuse. It’s not every day, I’m sure, that a stranger jumps into a moving car beside you.” He could afford to be magnanimous, but he wasn’t above teasing. He gripped her hand tighter, refusing to let go. “I assume you’ve never worked as a personal assistant to an actor before?”

She shook her head, and he wondered if that spark in the cool, contained depths of her eyes was amusement or anger or fear. “I’ve never worked as anything before. Will you be gentle with me?” Definitely amusement. But she wasn’t flirting with him. More like playing with him, like a cat playing with a captive mouse.

So much for his turf. Even so, he couldn’t resist flirting back. He wrapped her hand in both his, daring her to pull away.

Her breath stuttered and her gaze flicked down to their joined hands, hers so small and white between his larger, darker ones.

“Since we’re going to be spending a lot of time together over the next few weeks, how about we get to know each other better. Tonight – over dinner?”

“I already have a date for tonight.”

“Break it.”

She shook her head and yanked her hand out of his. “I think dinner would be crossing a line. It wouldn’t be professional.”

That hadn’t stopped his publicist. Or his previous two assistants.

“Suit yourself.” He stepped away and waved the others closer. “Okay, I’ll go for this. On one condition.” He held Teresa’s gaze. “You’re mine for the next three weeks. This isn’t a game. I need you to take this job seriously.”

She nodded slowly. “Agreed.”

“As soon as this fitting is done, Dominic and I are heading to rehearsals. You can go with us, and on the way I’ll fill you in on what I expect from you.”

“Great!” Gerry clapped his hands together in relief. “Play nicely.”

He and the redhead headed for the doors, heads bent together in earnest conversation.

Dominic settled himself back on the sofa, looking much more awake than a moment ago. “We will!” he called after their departing backs and patted the open space next to him for Teresa to sit.

Christian sent him a look that his old friend couldn’t miss: Hands off. She’s mine.

This fitting was a far cry from the one she’d left in such a hurry this morning. The bridal boutique had been pristine and uncluttered, smelling of roses, with hushed voices, champagne, the soft strains of classical music drifting through, and the designer himself dancing attendance on her.

The costume department was noisy, with people coming and going, and a faintly musty smell. But it wasn’t as dull as Tessa had expected. Not with Dominic serving her coffee and pastries, and keeping up the banter.

Unlike Christian, who glowered in their direction between costume changes, Dominic had no problem sharing his life’s story. It was surprising that Christian had become the star when Dominic was the born entertainer. Within the space of half an hour she learned that the two of them had been friends since high school. They’d started in the movie business together as stunt men, before Christian had been “discovered” and turned into a star. Dominic still worked as stunt coordinator on all Christian’s pictures.

Which explained how Christian had managed that flying leap into her car last night with the top already half-closed. Fleetingly she wondered what else that athleticism would be good for, but she shut the thought down before it could take root. He flustered her enough already without indulging her imagination. And she never indulged her imagination.

Listening to Dominic chatter was not only a mine of information, far more so than the “official” biographies she’d read in the file her father showed her, but also a much-needed distraction. It was incredibly hard not to stare whenever Christian stripped off to try on a new shirt, and the stylist seemed to have rather a lot of shirts for him to try.

In the darkness of her car last night she hadn’t fully appreciated just how lean and muscled Christian was. He made Stefan look positively soft in comparison, and Stefan was no lightweight in the looks department.

“If Dominic has finished monopolizing your attention, we need to run through tomorrow’s schedule,” Christian said, frowning at his friend.