knows the score.”
“I hope you’re right.” Dev got an ah-ha look on his face. “I get it. This is about Karen.”
“No,” Max denied quickly.
“Yes. You don’t want Dana on the road late at night because of what happened to Karen. It’s the same reason you always make your bimbos sleep over after sex instead of kicking them out like a smart man would. Better yet, you could go to their place, leave when you’re done and avoid the messy mornings after.”
“You’re trying to connect unrelated incidents.”
“Liar.” But the insult was hurled in a brotherly tone. “The accident wasn’t your fault, Max.”
He didn’t want to rehash this. Not now. Not while they had so much other garbage on the table. “I need a drink.”
He scanned the area, searching for their waiter. It was because he’d had too much to drink that night while he was wheeling and dealing that he’d made Karen drive.
Is there a lesson here, buddy?
A familiar knot of tension balled between his shoulder blades. Forget the drink. “I shouldn’t have let her drive.”
“She was old enough to make that decision herself, Max.”
“She was tired.”
“Karen could have called for a driver. Wouldn’t be the first time one of us has done that. Or she could have had a couple cups of coffee. God knows she had guts enough to speak up for what she wanted on the job. That night shouldn’t have been any different.”
Another reminder not to get involved with someone he worked with. He and Karen had had a great marriage most of the time, but when they had one of their rare arguments the bad mood had followed them into work and hung over the entire studio like a dark cloud. She’d been his executive assistant until he’d convinced her to quit, stay at home and try to get pregnant.
“Forget it. That’s history. We have a current crisis to manage.” He didn’t need to be raking over old, cold coals tonight. If he did he’d end up drinking too much. Again. His pity parties didn’t happen often, but when they did, they weren’t pretty. That’s why he usually carted himself out of town for the event. This year his tight schedule wouldn’t allow it.
“You’re right. Max, the similarity between Willow’s film and ours might be coincidental. Congruity happens. And if it were any other film company I wouldn’t think twice. But it’s not another company, and if we have a leak then you have to consider Dana as the source.”
He’d already come to that conclusion. “If I fire her, I’ll never get the editing done on time.”
“Then you won’t fire her. Yet. You’ll just watch her like a hawk. Can you handle that?”
She was already living under his roof. All he had to do was find a way to control the hours when she wasn’t working or sleeping and since those would be few and far between until November, it shouldn’t be too difficult.
“I have it covered. And I’ll find out if she’s leaked anything and if so, how much.”
Five
Dana closed Max’s front door and locked it behind herself as quietly as possible, then she turned and spotted a big shadow in the dark foyer. She startled and fumbled for the security panel, intent on setting off the alarm if she had to.
The light flicked on, identifying the shadow as Max. She pressed a hand over her racing heart. The gate chime would have alerted him to her arrival. “Max, you scared me.”
“What did you tell Lewis about Honor?”
She smothered a wince. She’d been afraid he’d think the worst. “Nothing.”
“He works for Willow.”
She heard accusation in his tone, but until she had the script in hand and she was sure delivering it wouldn’t get Doug fired, she couldn’t give Max the whole story. Doug hadn’t had a copy of the script in the pile at his condo. She’d have to wait until he could look around the office when he returned from recce.
“Yes. He works for Willow. He’s been there a couple of years. And you might as well know now that I helped him get the job.”
“So that you could exchange information?”
“No.”
“Did you leak details of the Honor script to him?”
She pushed off the door and met his gaze straight on. “No, Max. Why would I do that?”
“You tell me.”
That he didn’t trust her ticked her off. “You think I sold information to our competitor?”
“Did you?”
The accusation stung. “I was trying to get information from Doug tonight, not give it to him. You wanted to know about Willow’s upcoming film. I’ve known Doug a long time. I was hoping he’d tell me what we needed to know.”
“Did he?”
“Not yet.”
“You kissed him.”
She shrugged. “Doug kisses everybody. It means nothing.”
“Yesterday you kissed me.”
Her mouth watered over the memory. She swallowed. “No. You kissed me. But I get that you didn’t know who…you weren’t awake or aware…that it wasn’t me you were thinking of.”
She was so uncomfortable with this conversation she could barely look him in the eyes.
“He’s your lover.”
She grimaced and curled her toes in her shoes. “He was. He isn’t anymore. That ended years ago.”
“Before or after he went to work at Willow?”
Why did he need to know this?
“About the same time. We didn’t want to be accused of a conflict of interest, so we ended our relationship.” By then they’d figured out they were better friends than lovers anyway. And yes, Doug had figured out she was looking for someone who could make her forget her boss. But Doug hadn’t been that guy. No way was she going to tell Max that.
“Did you promise to meet him again?”
Heat crawled up her cheeks. Not in the way he meant, but she wasn’t going to lie. “We didn’t set a date.”
“But you are going to see him again.”
“I might. He’s a friend.” If he got the script, they’d definitely meet. He was supposed to call if/when that happened and set up a rendezvous. Waiting a week or three seemed like an eternity.
Max
