flicks hadn’t garnered wide distribution. She was a risk, and if not for Garrett’s insistence, Finn probably wouldn’t have considered her for the part.
Garrett glanced over at Ivy again, unwilling to tell her why Finn had waited until the last minute to contact her agent. She’d accepted the part. She didn’t need to know the circumstances surrounding the offer.
“Finn probably would have approached your agent sooner, but he didn’t want to distract you from the project you were wrapping up in Montreal,” he lied. “I know that he’s eager to meet you. They’ll begin shooting your scenes in just a couple of days.”
“Have you—have you worked with Eric Terrell before?”
Her tone was casual, but Garrett didn’t miss the underlying anxiety. He noted the color in her cheeks and the way she clenched the strap of her carry-on bag. She was nervous about meeting the acclaimed actor, and he couldn’t really blame her. The guy was on the front page of every tabloid and at the top of every media list there was. Hottest Actor. Most Eligible Bachelor. Sexiest Man Alive.
They’d forgotten to add Biggest Dickhead On The Planet, but Garrett guessed that most folks who knew him already had that one figured out. He’d shown up on location with an entourage of support personnel, including a bodyguard, a personal secretary and his own makeup person. Hell, the production company had even agreed to pay for a private cook for him. He’d put up a huge stink when he’d learned he’d be working with a relatively unknown actress. He’d actually told Finn he would only star opposite an A-list actress. Garrett had to give his brother-in-law credit. Finn hadn’t backed down. Instead, he’d calmly told Eric that he could get over it or get off his set. Eric had buttoned his mouth, but Garrett knew the decision had rankled. He hoped to hell the other man would maintain his pompous-ass mind-set and leave Ivy the hell alone, but he doubted he’d get that lucky. With her looks, Ivy would be pure temptation.
Garrett never would have chosen Terrell to portray him in the film, but Finn had insisted the choice was a good one. During the past three weeks, Garrett had reluctantly acknowledged he was right. Based on the uncut footage he’d seen so far, he’d say Finn had another blockbuster in the making.
“This is the first time I’ve worked with him.” He was carefully noncommittal.
Ivy flashed him a smile. “I’ve seen his movies.” She gave a self-conscious laugh. “I mean, who hasn’t seen his movies, right? I just never thought I’d get the chance to work with him. I’d have thought they’d want somebody like Angelina Jolie or Jessica Alba for this part.”
Garrett let his gaze slide over her. “Trust me,” he drawled, “there was never any question about you being cast for this part.”
Her eyes widened fractionally and then filled with pleasure before she looked out the window, hiding her expression from him. But Garrett could still see the smile that hovered on her lips, and he felt a ridiculous sense of satisfaction knowing he’d put it there. His eyes lingered on her a moment, noting how her hair was beginning to dry in soft corkscrews around her face. He wondered how the curls would feel in his hands. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel, and he forced himself to focus on his driving.
“I’ve worked so hard at my career,” she continued. “True, a lot of people would say my choice of films has been a little unorthodox, but I’ve always tried to choose roles that would challenge me, you know?”
He glanced over at her. “Sure.”
“I mean, I’ve been offered plenty of roles in popcorn movies, but I want to be taken seriously.” She turned earnest eyes to him. “That’s why this role is so exciting. It means I’m finally reaching that point in my career where people are starting to sit up and notice.” She smiled. “I just never thought my past projects would capture the attention of a director like Finn MacDougall. It’s more than I could’ve ever hoped for.”
Garrett determinedly ignored the guilt that rose in him and gave her a polite smile of acknowledgment. “I’m certain you won’t let him down.”
She laughed. “Not if I can help it. I’ll do whatever is necessary to make this the best performance of my career.”
The dense foliage fell away as they entered the tiny village of Pancho Viejo, a cluster of small houses and rustic buildings that circled a central plaza with an ornate fountain. Carefully manicured trees lined the narrow road, their trunks painted white and their branches strung with colorful lights. The picturesque scene elicited a murmur of delight from Ivy.
They turned off the small road and drove through a set of old, iron gates, then along a road less rutted than the one they had just traveled. Slowly, the thick vegetation on either side of the road gave way to steep, tiered hillsides still bearing traces of the coffee bean cultivation that had supported generations of local residents. Before long, the hills leveled out. Garrett suppressed a smile as Ivy caught her first glimpse of Hacienda la Esperanza and gasped.
Situated at the end of a long drive bordered on either side by fig and cypress trees, the hacienda was a sprawling, two-story structure of white stucco. Tall, narrow windows marched along the first and second floors. Creeping ivy clung to the near side of the building, completely obscuring the white stucco, insinuating itself into the window embrasures and dangling in long ropes from the overhanging roof. The sun was sinking behind a panoramic backdrop of lush mountains, streaking the skies with warm hues of orange and pink, and Garrett admitted the house made a stunning first impression.
Skirting the building, he drove around to the back of the hacienda. The circular drive stopped in front of a covered walkway supported by stone pillars and flanked on either side by lush gardens.
As he pulled onto the gravel lot, the sound of laughter and muted conversation drifted toward them. Garrett eyed his watch. It was almost nine o’clock. Congregating by the pool after dinner to discuss the day’s filming over drinks, before going to bed, had become something of a ritual for the cast.
Ivy stood close by his side as he hauled her suitcase out of the Jeep, and he caught her looking speculatively toward the house. Her clothing still clung damply to her skin, and the thought of parading her past the other cast members held little appeal for him. No way did he want Eric Terrell to see Ivy in her current state. That Ivy would be shooting some pretty intimate love scenes with the actor didn’t matter. To Garrett’s way of thinking, her nearly transparent clothing was almost more erotic than if she was butt naked.
Okay, that was a complete lie.
Just the thought of Ivy James in the nude made his body tighten in response.
“C’mon,” he said, his voice more brusque than he’d intended. “I’ll show you to your room and then ask Denise, who works in makeup, to find you something dry to wear.”
She cast him a grateful glance and walked ahead of him down the covered walkway and into the large, central courtyard. A fountain gurgled in the center, surrounded by lush gardens. The hacienda rose up on all sides. What had once been the cloisters had been converted into private balconies overlooking the gardens.
“Up these stairs to the left,” he murmured, indicating the winding stone staircase that connected the two floors of the hacienda and led to the private rooms on the second level.
Garrett followed at a slower pace, not even trying to force his bad leg to move faster. He knew from bitter experience that would do no good, and he’d just be sore and sorry the following day. Besides, being several steps behind Ivy gave him the opportunity to admire her perfect, heart-shaped
