as the bad guy in an attempt to make herself feel better about what she’d done.
He hoped.
There was one way Luke could turn the tables on her and get all the sympathy, but he wasn’t prepared to do that. Particularly as he knew how quickly the press could put the opposite spin on a story to get more mileage from it. That part of his life was private, and it was staying that way.
OK. He only had to put up with the dog until Thursday. Just another three days. Then his aunt would be back in London to find the dog a permanent home; and he could get back to concentrating on his career. And on making damn sure that this movie was a huge success so Fleur and her cronies wouldn’t be able to say another word.
Luke walked into the office, expecting to see Ayesha Milan, but the only person he saw was the new assistant. He hadn’t actually caught her name this morning. He really regretted that; he’d always sworn that he wouldn’t be one of the stuck-up stars who forgot what it was like to be at the bottom of the heap. He usually made a point of making sure that anyone who worked with him knew that he appreciated what they did and he didn’t take them for granted. Today, he’d slipped up. Badly.
‘Mr McKenzie,’ she said, her mouth thinning. ‘Come to collect your dog?’
‘Yes.’
He was about to apologise for the way he’d dumped the dog on her that morning, but she didn’t give him the chance. ‘I don’t care if you’re Mr Big Shot Actor, and I don’t care if you complain to Ayesha and get me fired for this, but what you did this morning is most definitely not the way to treat a dog. You dumped her on us—without any water, any food, any bedding, any toys—and that’s just not good enough.’
OK. He already knew that.
She wasn’t finished. ‘My sister and my best friend think you’re the greatest as a movie star.’
Implying, he thought, that she didn’t.
‘But, let me tell you, you totally suck as a dog owner.’
He couldn’t deny that. She was speaking the truth.
‘Absolutely. I know nothing about dogs.’ He paused. ‘And Baloo isn’t mine.’
That seemed to take the wind out of her sails. ‘She’s not yours?’
‘I’m looking after her—not that I had any choice—until my aunt gets back from America in three days’ time.’
‘Oh.’ She paused, frowning. ‘Why didn’t you have a choice?’
‘Doesn’t matter. I’ll take her off your hands, now.’ Not that he was going to make a good job of it. The next seventy-two hours or so were going to stretch him to the limit. It didn’t help that the dog had chewed his script, too. The damned dog chewed everything. Worse still, how could he remain angry with an animal who leaped around in joy and wagged her tail madly when she saw him, and right now was sitting at his feet, looking up at him with what was definitely the canine equivalent of a dopey welcoming smile?
‘Why didn’t you have a choice?’ The assistant’s voice was softer, now. Kinder.
God, how easy it would be to let himself respond. But he couldn’t afford to do that. He needed to keep his focus.
‘Your aunt must’ve known you’re working this week. She could’ve booked Baloo into kennels.’
‘She’s not my aunt’s dog, either.’ The words slipped out before he could stop them.
She raised an eyebrow. ‘So how come your aunt asked you to look after Baloo?’
It was a long, long story.
Diversion was the best tactic here. He smiled at her. ‘I’m sorry; I didn’t catch your name earlier.’
‘Jess Greenacre.’
‘Jess.’ Short for Jessica? A staccato name, clipped and a little harsh. How she’d been with him when he’d walked in. But now he looked at her—Jess. Softer. Sweeter. She wasn’t wearing a scrap of make-up, not even mascara to enhance those amazing green eyes.
And what the hell was he doing, letting himself notice that? He shook himself. Even if he was in a position to think about another relationship, it sure as hell wouldn’t be with anyone remotely connected to the movie business. Been there, done that, and been vilified by the press for it. Which really rankled, considering that he hadn’t been the one who’d cheated and broken up the marriage.
Though he had lied. About one tiny little fact. And if that ever got out...
He shook himself. ‘Jess. I was pretty short with you this morning. Rude, even. I’m sorry. This is your first day on set, isn’t it?’
She looked surprised that he’d noticed. ‘Yes, it is, Mr McKenzie.’
‘Call me Luke. And welcome to the team,’ he said.
She folded her arms. ‘OK, you get points for good manners. Even though I suspect you might be acting your socks off, right now.’
To his surprise, he found himself laughing.
When was the last time he’d really laughed like that? Really been amused?
And when was the last time someone had called him on his behaviour instead of tiptoeing round him? Probably not since before the break-up of his marriage.
Jess Greenacre was refreshing. And she was the first person in a long while to intrigue him. She looked older than the average production assistant, so this probably wasn’t her first job. So why was she in such a junior role?
None of his business, he reminded himself.
‘I’m not acting right now,’ he said. ‘And I’m not usually—well, like I was this morning.’
‘But your dog had just chewed your co-star’s shoes, there were some feathers that needed unruffling, and time was tight. You were under too much pressure, and you snapped.’
She’d worked all that out? Bright as well as refreshing, then. Apart from the one thing she just hadn’t seemed to grasp. ‘Baloo’s not my dog, but otherwise yes,’ he admitted. ‘My co-star didn’t want a doggy audience at rehearsals. I did put Baloo in a crate but then she howled the place down and the director wasn’t too pleased. I thought she’d be OK if I let her out. She sat really nicely and just watched. I thought it would be fine.’ He sighed. ‘I wasn’t prepared for her to sneak off when my back was turned and steal some shoes to chew. Even though she’s pretty much destroyed my house, the last two days.’
‘Destroyed your house?’ Jess asked.
‘I left her for ten minutes on Saturday morning to get some croissants and a newspaper. She opened every cupboard in the kitchen while I was gone and shredded every bag and box she could find. You wouldn’t believe how much mess rice, pasta, oatmeal and a bag of flour can make. Or how long it takes to clear up.’
Jess raised an eyebrow. ‘You didn’t leave her with any toys?’
‘She didn’t come with
