if that spark in the cool, contained depths of her eyes was amusement or anger or fear. “I’ve never worked as anything before. Will you be gentle with me?” Definitely amusement. But she wasn’t flirting with him. More like playing with him, like a cat playing with a captive mouse.
So much for his turf. Even so, he couldn’t resist flirting back. He wrapped her hand in both his, daring her to pull away.
Her breath stuttered and her gaze flicked down to their joined hands, hers so small and white between his larger, darker ones.
“Since we’re going to be spending a lot of time together over the next few weeks, how about we get to know each other better. Tonight – over dinner?”
“I already have a date for tonight.”
“Break it.”
She shook her head and yanked her hand out of his. “I think dinner would be crossing a line. It wouldn’t be professional.”
That hadn’t stopped his publicist. Or his previous two assistants.
“Suit yourself.” He stepped away and waved the others closer. “Okay, I’ll go for this. On one condition.” He held Teresa’s gaze. “You’re mine for the next three weeks. This isn’t a game. I need you to take this job seriously.”
She nodded slowly. “Agreed.”
“As soon as this fitting is done, Dominic and I are heading to rehearsals. You can go with us, and on the way I’ll fill you in on what I expect from you.”
“Great!” Gerry clapped his hands together in relief. “Play nicely.”
He and the redhead headed for the doors, heads bent together in earnest conversation.
Dominic settled himself back on the sofa, looking much more awake than a moment ago. “We will!” he called after their departing backs and patted the open space next to him for Teresa to sit.
Christian sent him a look that his old friend couldn’t miss: Hands off. She’s mine.
This fitting was a far cry from the one she’d left in such a hurry this morning. The bridal boutique had been pristine and uncluttered, smelling of roses, with hushed voices, champagne, the soft strains of classical music drifting through, and the designer himself dancing attendance on her.
The costume department was noisy, with people coming and going, and a faintly musty smell. But it wasn’t as dull as Tessa had expected. Not with Dominic serving her coffee and pastries, and keeping up the banter.
Unlike Christian, who glowered in their direction between costume changes, Dominic had no problem sharing his life’s story. It was surprising that Christian had become the star when Dominic was the born entertainer. Within the space of half an hour she learned that the two of them had been friends since high school. They’d started in the movie business together as stunt men, before Christian had been “discovered” and turned into a star. Dominic still worked as stunt coordinator on all Christian’s pictures.
Which explained how Christian had managed that flying leap into her car last night with the top already half-closed. Fleetingly she wondered what else that athleticism would be good for, but she shut the thought down before it could take root. He flustered her enough already without indulging her imagination. And she never indulged her imagination.
Listening to Dominic chatter was not only a mine of information, far more so than the “official” biographies she’d read in the file her father showed her, but also a much-needed distraction. It was incredibly hard not to stare whenever Christian stripped off to try on a new shirt, and the stylist seemed to have rather a lot of shirts for him to try.
In the darkness of her car last night she hadn’t fully appreciated just how lean and muscled Christian was. He made Stefan look positively soft in comparison, and Stefan was no lightweight in the looks department.
“If Dominic has finished monopolizing your attention, we need to run through tomorrow’s schedule,” Christian said, frowning at his friend.
Tessa pulled out a notebook and pen, and the call sheet Robbie, the Second Assistant Director, had provided her with, and scribbled notes. Christian was very specific about what he ate, when he ate, and how he liked his life run. If this was easy-going, she’d hate to know what a more demanding star would be like.
She was almost relieved when the fitting was over. The three of them left the wardrobe ladies bagging up the costumes to ship to Los Pajaros, and headed back through the maze of corridors to the rehearsal room.
Her relief was short-lived.
This wasn’t a group of people sitting around a table reading from a script. The rehearsal was a sword-fighting practice. With both men barefoot and stripped down to their jeans.
Tessa sat mutely in the corner, eyeing them over the top of the folder of printed-out emails from Christian’s publicist that remained unread, and tried to look as if two half-naked men trying to smack each other with dulled swords was an everyday thing.
The swords may not have been lethal, but they weren’t play-things either. They looked heavy, and the sound that rang out when they struck was pure metal on metal.
The two men were equally matched. Dominic’s skill was greater, but Christian was quick on his feet. There was something familiar in the way he moved: light and graceful, but she couldn’t quite place it. She rubbed her brow and the sense of déja-vu disappeared.
She hadn’t yet learned anything that wasn’t in the file her father had shown her. The first few pages, Christian’s official biography according to Wikipedia, IMDB and a dozen other websites, held no mention at all of his family or his childhood. Transcripts of various press interviews were less than helpful. They frequently contradicted one another and never asked the important questions. The gaps had been filled by the woefully short single-page report gathered by her father’s intelligence people.
Christian had been born on Los Pajaros, only child of a single mother, which was still a stigma in the islands. There was no father named on his birth certificate. He’d been in and out of trouble from a young age. Then mother and son had suddenly moved to Los Angeles when he was fourteen. And that was where Christian Hewitt became Christian Taylor. It was almost as if they’d wanted to disappear.
Tessa’s father had marked the print-out with a big, bold question mark. She knew what he wanted to know. Not just “why?” but “how?” How could a single mother, working as a school teacher, afford to move countries to start a new life in middle-class suburbia in California?
They’d cut all ties to Los Pajaros. There was no mention of his being born or raised there in any of his official biographies. She rubbed her forehead.
The only new information Tessa had for her father was that Christian wasn’t wearing the ring now. She couldn’t have missed it if she tried. His bare chest glistened with a sheen of sweat as he and Dominic danced around each other, moving slower as they tired.
“Enough,” Christian said, breathing hard.
“You’re getting soft.” But Dominic’s laugh was just as breathy. “Are you letting this ‘being a movie star’ thing get to your head?”
“Never!”
They
