the kiss, flattening her against the oak door, pressing his body flush against hers.
His hands cupped her face, caressing her skin while holding her in place as his tongue plundered shamelessly. She moaned, opened her mouth wider, and her arms wrapped around his waist. He pushed his thigh between her legs, lifting, bunching her short skirt, the fabric of his slacks meeting the satin of her panties.
His body flushed hot, tense, rigid with desire, and a freight train roared in his ears and the world contracted to the two of them.
“Charlotte?” came a faraway voice.
Raine.
Charlotte tensed, and Alec groaned, reluctantly taking his mouth from hers. He eased back, knowing they might have only seconds before Raine tried the door.
“Charlotte?” Raine repeated.
“Let go,” Charlotte whispered.
Alec took a step back, rasping deep breaths, trying vainly to put his raging hormones back under control.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Fine,” Charlotte shot back, smoothing her pleated, navy skirt and straightening the white, sleeveless blouse.
He reached out to fix her mussed hair, and she drew in a sharp breath. There was nothing he could do about the just-kissed puffiness of her mouth—except try like hell not to get turned on by it.
The doorknob rattled, and Charlotte jumped back. “Why are we in here?” she frantically whispered.
Alec drew open the door. “Raine?” He gazed at the quizzical expression on his sister’s face. “I’m glad it’s you,” he continued. “There was a photographer downstairs, and Charlotte got a little freaked out.” He gave Charlotte a teasing wink. “I told her there was nothing to worry about. Did you see anyone skulking around with a camera?”
Rained glanced at Charlotte, then back to Alec. “No.”
“Good,” he said heartily. “I’ll be in my office. Kiefer should be here in an hour or so. If you see him, could you have Henri send him straight up?”
With Raine suitably distracted by erroneous details, and having given Charlotte at least a couple of minutes to recover, Alec exited the room.
Then, three steps down the hallway, he put a hand against the wall to steady himself. It was a kiss, he reminded himself, a simple kiss.
Except that it hadn’t been simple. It had blown his expectations right out of the water. If he’d been attracted to Charlotte before, he was nearly wild for her now. The chemistry between them was nothing short of mindblowing, and he wasn’t going to be able to focus on Kana Hanako or anything else until he investigated it further.
“I don’t blame you for being paranoid,” said Raine, as Alec left the library.
“Hmm?” Charlotte stalled, not yet capable of producing actual words. Her skin was tingling, her heart was thumping and her knees felt as if they’d been turned to gelatin.
“Kiefer can be devious.”
“Right.” Charlotte nodded, telling herself to snap out of it. The kiss had been good—well, great, actually. But she’d expected it to be great. If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have bothered kissing Alec, would she? What woman would embark on a kiss she thought would be boring?
“One picture of you and Alec, doing something as innocent as having a conversation, and Kiefer gets his nefarious wish. You want me to talk to him?” Raine paused. “Charlotte?”
“What?”
“You want me to talk to Kiefer? Or maybe you should steer clear of Alec. Just to be on the safe side.”
Charlotte drew a deep breath and gave herself a mental shake. “Yeah. Good idea.” Steering clear of Alec was better than the alternative—hauling him into the nearest bed and kissing him until her brain exploded.
“Mademoiselle Charlotte?” came a new voice from the hallway. Henri.
Raine turned to meet him. “Oui, Henri?”
“A Jack Hudson has arrived.”
“Jack’s here?” The words jumped from Charlotte as a familiar little knot grew in her stomach. She loved her big brother. But their relationship was complicated.
She couldn’t help remembering Alec and Raine’s greeting embrace. Charlotte hadn’t hugged Jack in more than twenty years—not since she’d been torn from his arms in the airport at four years old, after her mother died, after her own father gave her away.
The next time they’d seen each other, he’d felt like a stranger. She wasn’t sure how to act, and neither was he.
He didn’t seem like the strong, protective big brother she’d fantasized about at night. Their visits grew further apart, and the awkwardness became acute in their teenage years. And now, as adults, neither seemed to know how to break the barrier.
Or maybe Jack didn’t want to break the barrier. He was a grown man with his own life. Why would he need a little sister hanging all over him?
She squared her shoulders and headed to the hallway. Once she got through the initial hello, it was always easier.
Raine fell into step beside her. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You look a little pale.”
Better pale with anxiety than flushed with sexual desire, Charlotte supposed.
“Everything’s moving smoothly,” Raine offered. She knew of Charlotte’s desire to impress the Hudson side of the family. “Even Lars Hinckleman is happy today.”
Charlotte couldn’t help but smile at the mention of the temperamental second-unit director. Raine was right. Things were going—
“I said dramatic, not appalling!” Lars shouted from the bottom of the stairs.
“Spoke too soon,” Raine muttered, as Charlotte quickened her steps on the curved, wrought-iron-railed staircase.
The stocky man was waving his arms, an unlit cigar clamped between his teeth, his dark hair curling over his forehead.
“It’s authentic Stix, Baer & Fuller,” the costume assistant dared, causing the entire room to hush and collectively suck in a breath.
Even Charlotte missed a step. Lars had been at the château for only three days, but she’d quickly learned the near-military command-control structure of the film set.
Lars leaned into the hapless young woman, his dark, round eyes narrowing. “Lillian Hudson will not wear a bird’s nest on her head.”
“She was Lillian Colbert then.”
The man’s face turned purple.
The costume designer quickly stepped
