I look like I could strong-arm anyone?”
“You look...” the same eyes that had just tried to intimidate her with their intensity raked her up and down, leaving her tingling and breathless “...stunning.”
She shivered and stepped back, leaning against the piano for support. One word—one look—and she was ready to throw off her clothes and beg him to do her in every yoga position imaginable.
This was wrong. All wrong. She never should have come. How did Ted and Judith and especially Ethan expect her to keep her pants on when faced with a force of nature like Nick? She wasn’t exactly a femme fatale. More like a poor man’s Cinderella, all dressed up for the ball, waiting for the stroke of midnight to reveal her as a complete fraud. Certainly no match for the charm and sophistication of Nick Damone.
“Thanks.” She wiped her clammy hands on the legs of her linen pants. “But all this—” she indicated her new hairdo, makeup and clothes “—it’s not really me. I’m more of a just-rolled-out-of-bed, jeans-and-T-shirt kind of gal. Nothing like the glamorous women you’re always photographed with.”
His smile put her in mind of a wolf eyeing a sheep before the kill. “Exactly.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant by that and she wasn’t dumb—or brave—enough to stick around and find out. “I’ve taken up enough of your time.” She snatched her clutch off the piano. “Thanks for flying all the way out here to meet with us. I’m sorry it was all for nothing....”
“What does your husband think about you coming to my hotel room like this?”
“My...what?”
“You know, your husband. Mr. Ryan. The man you married.” He sat straighter, his eyes flashing. “Does he know you’re here?”
The last thing she wanted to discuss with Nick was her pathetic excuse for a husband. But she supposed she owed Nick the truth—or part of it.
“I don’t have a husband. Not anymore. I’m divorced.”
* * *
HOT DAMN!
Nick knew his reaction was wrong. No matter the circumstances, divorce wasn’t something to celebrate. But his head couldn’t reason with his heart, which was doing a little happy dance.
She. Wasn’t. Married.
Lusting after her from afar would have been torture. But now she was free. Fair game. They could work and play together.
Warning bells went off in the back of his head. She’s a forever kind of girl, Damone. And you don’t do forever. In fact, you don’t do relationships. Period.
But his happy-dancing heart—or maybe the dancing was coming from somewhere a bit farther south—drowned it out. There was no way he was passing up the second chance given to him by God, or fate, or whatever cosmic force had brought them together again.
Plus, if anyone could help him get past his learning disability and claim this role, it was her. Hell, she’d written the damn thing. She’d know the characters inside out. Plus, she was the smartest person he’d ever met. With her help, he’d wow Spielberg and everyone else in Hollywood who doubted his acting chops.
Nick smoothed down the front of his shirt and stretched one arm along the back of the couch. This could turn out to be his lucky break. In more ways than one.
“I’m sorry,” he said, surprised to find that a part of him really was. Not that she was available, but that she’d had to endure the pain that always came with divorce.
She shrugged, the hint of a smile playing around her lips. “I’m not.”
“Any kids?”
As suddenly as it appeared, the trace of a smile vanished and her eyes took on a distant look. “No.”
“That’s good.”
“Is it?” She sounded wistful.
“Divorce is hard on kids.” Although he was pretty sure his childhood would have been a damn sight better—or at least more peaceful—if his parents had split up.
“I suppose.” She shook her head as if to clear it, and a little of the spark crept back into her eyes. “Now that we’ve exhausted the subject of my failed marriage...” She started for the door.
He sank back into the sofa, crossing an ankle over one knee. “You honestly didn’t come here to get me to audition?”
She froze. “Are you always this suspicious?”
He shrugged. “Occupational hazard. You haven’t answered my question.”
“I do want you to audition. But it’s your decision, not mine.”
“That’s very Dr. Phil of you,” he said, sounding cynical even to his own ears. “But somehow I don’t think Ted and Judith share your concern for my feelings. If I were a betting man, and I am, I’d say they’re trying to cash in on our friendship.”
“I’m not privy to their innermost thoughts.” Holly drew herself up and pursed her lips. Man, she was hot when she went all schoolteacher. “And one conversation at a high school cast party hardly constitutes a friendship.”
Nick leaned forward, elbows on his knees, giving her the full force of his patented movie-star smile. “If memory serves, we did a little more than talk that night.”
“Did we?”
“Need a reminder?” He braced himself to stand.
“No!” She lost her grip on the ridiculously tiny sparkly thing she seemed to think was a purse, sending it clattering to the floor. “It’s been lovely catching up, but I’ve got another appointment.” She bent to pick it up so quickly she almost fell on her sweet little backside.
Oh, yeah. She remembered that kiss. And she’d been as turned on by it as much as he had.
Unfortunately, she was also on the run, halfway to the door.
He resisted the urge to jump up and grab her, not wanting to scare her any more than he already had. He needed to tone down the he-man antics if he had any hope of convincing her to stay. “Please stop.”
She didn’t.
“I was an ass.”
She hesitated, only inches from the door and freedom. “Now or then?”
“Both.”
She turned slowly, and met his gaze head-on. “Thank you.”
“Don’t go.” He slid over on the sofa, making room for her. “I’d like a chance to explain why I turned you down.” And that he’d since changed his mind.
“Now?” she asked with a smirk. “Or then?”
He winced. “Now.” He definitely wanted to focus on the present.
