unpacked the remainder of the bags while the microwave hummed, and she stored each item in the cupboards or fridge—fruits and vegetables, juice, milk, bread, eggs, a wedge of the cheese he preferred, two thick T-bone steaks, his favorite cut of meat.
The other night he’d had to escape to the balcony while Dana cooked the spaghetti. The domestic scene had brought back too many memories. Karen had loved to cook. During their brief marriage they’d spent many hours together in the kitchen of their old house laughing, loving and eventually eating whatever she’d whipped up. That was back in the day when sharing a meal with his bride had been one of the highlights of his day, second only to making love with her.
Damn.
Karen had never set foot in this house, but he felt her presence everywhere he went these days. He blamed the disturbance on the script. Shooting the story of his grandparents falling in love reminded him of falling for his wife and the despair of losing her. He’d known he wanted to spend the rest of his life with his red-haired beauty within three days of meeting her, but he’d had only three years—years that had passed faster than a blink.
And now she was gone.
And it was his fault.
“When was the last time you ate?” Dana’s voice plunged into the depths of his dark memories and yanked him to the surface.
He drew air into his tight lungs and searched his mind. “I don’t know. Your spaghetti, I guess.”
She scowled at him. “Max, that was thirty-six hours ago.”
He shrugged. “I was working.”
She rolled her eyes and made a disgusted sound. “And you always forget to eat when you’re working.”
Did he? Was that why she was always shoving food in front of him?
She filled a tall glass with ice and some of the pineapple juice she’d brought with her and set it on the counter in front of him. He sipped the sweet liquid while she bustled around. Moments later the scent of coffee brewing filled the kitchen.
“You don’t need a new executive assistant. You need a keeper,” she muttered under her breath as she banged more items into cabinets.
The quiet anger in her tone raised his hackles. “What did you say?”
She turned, brown eyes flashing with temper, and parked her hands on her hips. “I said you need a keeper. I have your food and dry cleaning delivered and your house cleaned. I run your office, pay your bills and schedule your car maintenance and even your dentist and doctor appointments. You’re a brilliant producer and film editor, Max. You can schedule a multibillion dollar project down to the dime and edit it down to the second, and heaven knows, you can work miracles with film and the cast and make sure everyone else’s needs are met. But you can’t manage your own life.”
“What?” Karen had often said the same thing. That without her he’d be lost. She was right. That’s why he had Dana.
Dana pushed her bangs off her forehead and sighed. “That’s not your fault. You’ve never had to. You had your family and an army of servants and then your wife and now me to do all that for you. But you’re going to have to learn. Your next executive assistant may not be willing to manage your personal life, and I won’t be around forever.”
“We’ve been over that. You can’t quit.”
Her gaze met his dead on, steady and determined, dark brown and serious. “I promised to see you through the end of Honor. And I am leaving Hudson Pictures once we’re done. I negotiated the noncompete clause out of my new contract. You can’t give me what I need, and I’m not going to let you hold me back anymore.”
Her comment took him aback. Man, she was full of surprises today. None of them good. “I’m not holding you back.”
“Yes, you are.”
The sadness in her voice caught him at a loss. He didn’t understand all this emotional crap, and he was too tired to try to figure it out. Was she PMSing or what? “What exactly is it you want, Dana? I gave you the promotion you demanded.”
She glanced toward the doorway and shifted on her feet. “I need a life.”
“You have a life and a job most people would kill for. You travel the globe and frequent five-star hotels and restaurants. You wear designer clothing to premieres and work with movie stars others only dream of meeting. The films we create make history, damn it.”
“No, Max. You make history. I just watch from the sidelines.” She dug in her briefcase, extracted her PDA, a pen and a pad of paper and then rapidly filled the page with her neat script. When she finished she pushed the sheet toward him.
“What is this?” Whatever it was, he knew from her expression that he wasn’t going to like it.
“This is a list of people who make your world turn. Your caterer, dry cleaner, housekeeper, dentist, doctor, barber and the like. Until your new executive assistant is hired, you’ll be dealing with these people yourself.”
“Why won’t you?”
“Because it’s not my job anymore.”
Speechless, he stared. Where was the efficient, quiet woman who’d worked for him for the past few years? “What in God’s name happened to you in France?”
“I had a wake up call from my brother. He made me realize that my life was passing me by while I ran yours.”
“You have a brother?” How could he not have known that? Come to think of it, did he know anything about Dana’s personal life? He searched his mind and came up with a blank slate. She didn’t share; he didn’t ask. He liked it that way.
But then he realized he didn’t even know where she lived or where she was from originally. Going by the slight accent that slipped out now and then he’d guess she’d come from a southern state. He’d have to have personnel fax over a copy of her résumé.
“My brother, James, is two years older than me. He’s a football coach at the university back home. Coaching was his dream, and he didn’t let anything stop him from attaining it.”
She pulled out a manila folder and slid it across the countertop. “Here’s the schedule of your current appointments and a selection of the caterer’s sample menus. Mark your choices, add anything else you want and then fax the sheets to the number on the top of the page. They’ll coordinate the delivery times with Annette.”
Confused, he frowned. “Who is Annette?”
She sighed as if she’d lost patience with him. “Your housekeeper. She’s worked for you for four years.”
He should have known that. But when was he ever home during the day? “What in the hell is going on, Dana?”
“I’m your associate producer now, Max. I won’t be your caretaker anymore.”
Caretaker.
He stiffened at the insult. “I’m thirty-three years old, not a child who needs a nanny. I can take care of my own damned needs.”
A
