funny,” Dahlia said, finally breaking the silence.
“Not as funny as you are, Ms. Morrow!”
Dahlia rolled her eyes.
“On a serious note,” Dahlia said, deliberately changing the subject, “this movie is proving to be more of a challenge than I anticipated.”
“You’re a beautiful, black woman trying to move a mountain, Dahlia. No one said that would be easy.”
“No, they didn’t. Nor did they say my wanting to move that mountain means you or any other man has to be there pushing with me.”
Guy smiled. It was an easy lift to his mouth that warmed Dahlia’s spirit. “What kind of a man would I be if I wasn’t willing to give a woman who is so determined a helping hand?”
Dahlia considered his question before responding. “Not the man I would want starring in my next movie,” she said as she extended a manicured hand in his direction. Dahlia didn’t miss his holding tight to her fingers a second longer than necessary, nor did she miss the heat that seemed to rise out of nowhere and radiate between them. She pulled her hand away, fighting not to show that she was uncomfortable with the sensations sweeping over her, vulnerability painting her expression.
Grateful for the alarm, she stole a quick glance at her smartphone as it vibrated against the tabletop. “I look forward to working with you, Mr. Boudreaux,” she said as she stood up, moving to leave. “I will give your agent a call and make a formal offer. Welcome to my movie.”
“The pleasure will be mine, Ms. Morrow,” he said as he came to his feet. He tossed her a quick wink of his eye. “And thanks for the water.”
Dahlia laughed warmly. “Don’t thank me yet, Guy!” she said as she made her exit.
Guy stared intently after Dahlia as she eased her way out of the room. His eyes were not the only ones to follow after her, and he had to appreciate the view along with her other admirers. Dahlia Morrow was captivatingly beautiful.
Guy smiled widely, his gaze skating the lines of her formfitting dress. The red silk garment she wore was like wet paint slathered over the curves of her full bustline, thin waist and lush derriere. The woman had curves, a Rubenesque figure, all the stuff that could make a strong man beg on his knees for her attention.
As the waiter paused at the table, depositing the unpaid tab for that one bottle of water, Guy had to laugh, completely intrigued by Dahlia. As he deposited a twenty-dollar bill onto the table, he hated to admit that begging on his knees had surely crossed his mind, if only for a very brief moment.
Chapter 4
Leslie shook her head as she stood with Dahlia’s requisite morning beverage in hand. Dahlia eyed her warily as she took hold of the cup and took the first sip of her drink.
“What?” Dahlia questioned, her eyes wide with curiosity. “What now?”
“You tell me,” Leslie said, blocking Dahlia’s path into her office.
“I don’t have a clue what you’re referring to,” Dahlia said, her curiosity peaked.
Leslie smirked, meeting Dahlia’s intense gaze. “Guy Boudreaux has been waiting for you. He’s in your office.”
Dahlia stood like stone, her mouth falling open in surprise. “Guy Boudreaux?”
Leslie nodded as she pointed to the closed office door. “And the casting agency delivered copies of his contract this morning. You didn’t tell me that Guy Boudreaux had said yes,” she whispered in a hushed breath.
“Must have slipped my mind,” Dahlia whispered nonchalantly back. She took another sip of her drink, avoiding the look her dear friend was giving her.
“Do you remember when Idris agreed to do your short film? You called me before the ink was dry on the paper.”
“I did.”
“And when Brad came on board for Victory you sent me a text message as the man was signing.”
“And your point?” Dahlia queried.
“You have a meeting with the black James Bond, the man agrees to be in your film and I only find out after the contracts are delivered and I find out from Guy and the delivery guy. That doesn’t sound out of the norm to you?”
Dahlia shrugged as a wide grin filled her face. “Okay, so maybe it’s a little unusual.”
“I wonder why,” Leslie said as she lifted a cashier’s check from the pile of folders in her hand and passed it to Dahlia. “He was just about to leave, and I was supposed to give this to you.”
Dahlia looked from the check to Leslie and back, her mouth dropping open in surprise. The six-figure amount was significant, and the accompanying note threw the woman completely off guard. Dahlia read it once, then a second and third time.
Leslie snatched the note from Dahlia’s hands. She read out loud, still whispering, “‘I look forward to doing business with you. We’ll negotiate my executive producer responsibilities over our next bottle. Your turn to buy this time. Guy Boudreaux.’”
Dahlia shook her head as she moved in the direction of the door.
Leslie stalled her one last time. “And Phaedra called. She and her new husband heard good things about your movie and they are also interested in investing.”
Dahlia shook her head. “Phaedra has a new husband?” she asked as her hand reached for the doorknob.
Her friend nodded. “A very wealthy husband. And her new hubby has very wealthy brothers, but then you already know that, right?”
A look of confusion crossed Dahlia’s face. “I do?”
Leslie laughed. “Uh, yeah! It seems she and your new executive producer are related by marriage.”
Dahlia’s eyes widened considerably. “Phaedra married Guy’s brother? Why weren’t we invited to the wedding? Were we invited to the wedding?”
Leslie laughed again.
“Apparently, it was a quiet ceremony with just the two of them and their immediate families. Call her. Our sorority sister has a lot to catch you up on. And when you’re done with your new friend in there, I want to hear every detail about your meeting with Guy Boudreaux and that bottle you two shared. Can’t believe you didn’t tell me you spent time with that fine man,” Leslie fussed as Dahlia shook her head.
Studying the generous check one more time, Dahlia wasn’t sure whether she should throw her arms around the man’s neck and hug him or squeeze the life out of him. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door to her office and stepped inside.
Guy Boudreaux sat in the leather executive’s chair behind her glass-and-metal desk. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, his leather loafers resting on the desk’s corner. His cell phone was tucked between his ear and shoulder as he chatted easily with someone on the other end, all the while flipping through the papers that had been on her desk.
As
