Hot Alaska Nights

by Lucy Monroe

  "So, I've done some preliminary research on Gamble and Morganstein. Their financials didn't hold anything I wouldn't expect." Rock leaned back, creating more than just physical distance between them.

  She stifled the desire to lean forward and remove that distance herself. "Their financials? You ran credit reports on them? Don't you have to have their permission to do that?"

  "Yes. They gave it."

  She would have liked to overhear that phone conversation. As long as she wasn't expected to participate, minor production credit notwithstanding.

  "I bet they weren't happy about it."

  Rock's look said her bosses' happiness was not even on his radar of concerns.

  "So, what else do you want to know?"

  "Their reputation in the industry."

  She indicated the computer with a jerk of her head. "Do you mind if we switch seats?"

  "Why?"

  "I could give you the highlights, but you're going to insist on reading the original sources anyway."

  He shook his head. "Give me the highlights and then you can show support documentation if I require it."

  "Do you try to be arrogant, or is that just natural?"

  His eyes widened. "You offered."

  "Right. It's that whole if I require it thing. Like you're deciding if you're going to believe me."

  "I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt, like you asked."

  "Oh." He was. Now that she thought about it that way, she smiled. "Sorry. I guess I'm feeling a little more defensive about your whole actors have a passing relationship with the truth attitude than I realized."

  Which was kind of ridiculous. She shouldn't care what this man thought of her.

  He sipped from his coffee, his gaze steady on hers. "People with integrity are usually offended when their honesty is questioned."

  "So, getting annoyed with you is a point in my favor?" She gave him what she realized was a very flirtatious look over the rim of her own water glass. And didn't rein it in when she became aware of it.

  Oh, wow.

  This man.

  He affected her like no other and turned her usually pragmatic brain to mush.

  She'd better get it together. This movie was too important to let her attraction get in the way of convincing Rock Jepsom to make good on his brother's promises.

  "Yes." Though desire flared in his eyes, he waited in clear expectation for her to talk.

  So that was what she did. "Both Ms. Morganstein and Art are well-known in independent film circles. Most of their projects have done well at the festivals and gotten into theaters, if not the chains, as well as being picked up for DVD distribution by decent labels."

  "Go on." His tone implied he'd already discovered most of that, but he didn't look impatient with her for telling him something he already knew.

  "This film has a chance at getting into at least one of the national chains as well as digital distribution by a top label."

  His eyes narrowed. "Who told you that?"

  "Ms. Morganstein."

  "Did she show you anything to support the claim?"

  "Not on purpose."

  "But..." His eyes invited her to continue.

  "I was in her office and saw an email." She told him who it was from, one of the biggest distributers in the industry, not to mention a heavy hitter in original productions.

  "You snooped."

  "The monitor was on and she was on the phone. I was just looking around." Deborah drank more water, not sure why her throat felt so dry. "I'm not sure if you're interested in Art's reputation with actors."

  "I am."

  "He's good to work with, really cares about the script and the movie. It's not all about making the next blockbuster for him." He was no saint. No one she'd met in Tinseltown was, but Art Gamble was kind of her hero.

  "Good thing since he hasn't made one yet."

  "I'm not sure he's interested in moving into mainstream."

  "I'm sure he's not."

  She agreed, but didn't understand why Rock sounded so sure. "How do you know?"

  "He's had offers from the big companies and turned them down."

  "Really?" She didn't know that. Though it wasn't something Art would have advertised either.

  There was a fine line between artistic integrity and career suicide. Still, she was surprised she hadn't heard the rumors.

  "Where did you hear that?"

  "From the studio exec who made the offer."

  Shock coursed through her. "You have contacts in the industry?"

  "I'm a venture capitalist." He set his coffee cup down on the tray, managing to invade her personal space again as he did so. "I have contacts in most industries, directly or by a degree or two of separation."

  "Who was it?" she asked, unable and really not interested in stifling her curiosity.

  He named a man so high on the food chain in Hollywood, Deborah would have said she didn't even know him by six degrees of separation. But now she knew she did. Through Art Gamble.

  For the first time, she realized just how powerful this man who chose to make his home in small town Alaska was in the business world.

  He didn't just have contacts, he had access to the power people.

  "Art and Ms. Morganstein have no idea about who you really are, do they?"

  Rock shrugged, like it didn't matter. And it probably didn't. To him.

  She, on the other hand, faced the unenviable task of explaining to her bosses that Rock Jepsom wasn't a man they would intimidate or be able to push into anything he didn't want to do.

  "If you have contacts in the industry, I'm not sure what I can tell you that they can't." Or why he'd even agreed to speak to her.

  "Maybe nothing."

  She looked at him, trying to read what he was thinking on his craggy features. "Then why listen?"

  "Because I want to."

  Again. Wow. This man didn't do anything he didn't want to. Full stop. Period.

  "You're a very self-assured man."

  He shrugged. "You want to convince me. I'm giving you the opportunity."

  "You are." If there was a tinge of awe in her voice, who could blame her?

  Rock Jepsom wasn't humoring her, he was giving her a chance and that said a lot about his character. All of it good. At least in her eyes.

  So, she did her best, sharing her own research into the film company, the production and its principles.

  "You admire Ms. Morganstein." Rock steepled his hands and probed her gaze with his own.

  Deborah wasn’t sure if she wanted to go into production or get herself firmly behind the camera, but she admired Elaine Morganstein. "She's made a name for herself in a business that can still be very much an old boy’s club."

  "Is she someone you want to emulate?"

  "In some respects, yes." Deborah pulled up a link she'd found early on. It was an article about Ms. Morganstein in an academic journal. "You see this?"

  Rock gave her a measured look. "Yes."

  "She's taken seriously."

  "You want to be taken seriously?" he asked.

  "I want to matter." That hadn't come out the way she'd intended it to, though the words were honest. "I mean, I want what I do to matter."

  "And you can only achieve that on the other side of a camera lens?"

  "We're not talking about me." And she'd revealed enough of herself to this man already.

  "You have as much to gain, or lose, with this movie as my brother does."

  "More." Carey was just starting his career. She was on the long side of hers. Fair, or not, male and female leads had a different longevity arc in their industry and she was on the tail end of hers.

  No diet and exercise regime with the best skin care products was going to keep her looking young forever.

  "You think so?"

  "He's twenty-two. I'm twenty-nine."

  "Not exactly in your twilight years."

  "Hollywood years are like dog years. Exponentiated. Especially for a woman."
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  "Katharine Hepburn was eighty-seven when she made her last movie," Rock said, surprising Deborah with both his knowledge and attempt at encouragement.

  "But she was twenty-six when she made Morning Glory and became a star, besides, that kind of talent doesn’t live inside of every actor."

  Deborah held no fantasies in that regard. She had never dreamt of achieving that level of stardom. She'd just wanted a big enough career that could justify her choice of film school over law school, something that proved losing her family to pursue her own dreams had been worth it.

  "You understand the business better than I thought you would," Rock mused.

  Was he kidding? The business was her life. "Condescending much?" she asked wryly.

  His lips quirked. "Sometimes."

  Okay, she was charmed. "Let me guess. You don't mean to be."

  "Sometimes, but not that one."

  "Thank you. I think. But let's just be clear on one thing. I am not an empty-headed actress, expecting my beauty to buy my big break." She'd never had the luxury of that level of naiveté.

  "You are beautiful though."

  "Thank you. I would say it was an accident of birth, but I work hard for this flawless skin and LaLa Land acceptable dress size."

  "I have no doubt you do."

  "Just so we're clear."

  He nodded, his expression turning calculating. "So, your bosses and my brother believe you have a better chance of getting me to agree to this movie scheme?"

  "It's not a scheme, but yes."

  "I'm not sure what I've ever done to convince my brother I can be led around by my dick."

  She choked on her sip of water. He'd gone there. He'd really gone there.

  Taking the glass from her with one hand, Rock patted her back with the other. The touch turned into a caress as she got control of her breathing, his big hand rubbing a sensual pattern below her shoulder blades. "I'm not sure how I feel about the mention of my dick sending you into a choking fit."

  She laughed, coughing and wheezing because her lungs weren't ready for that yet.

  It took several breaths before she could assure him, "My body isn't up for grabs as an incentive."

  His hand slid up to cup her nape under her hair. "Are you sure?"

  "Yes." She should have been offended, but she was breathless with desire she refused to acknowledge instead.

  "Can't we pretend it is?"

  "What?" He...no...he didn't think...she wasn't... Her disjointed thoughts careened to a halt before she could think the word. He'd said pretend.

  What did that mean?

  And why did the idea of it turn her on so much? She wasn't kinky. At least, she never had been.

  But aagh...this man, he made her think of things she didn't spend time thinking about. Like pretending to be a femme fatale in a role that would never see the silver screen.

  Rock leaned forward again, his hand on her nape creating the sense of being in his arms, his gorgeous sherry gaze trapping hers. "Could we pretend for a minute that I can be led by my dick and that you are willing to sacrifice your body for the good of the film?"

  "A minute?" she asked faintly, her mind plucking that word out of the provocative string.

  "An hour, a day, a week, whatever it takes."

  "What?" she asked again, her heart beating way too fast, her breath coming out in embarrassing pants. "I..."

  "You. Me. Preferably my bed but any flat surface will do. Move in here for the duration, sleep between my sheets."

  "Are you serious?" He couldn't be serious.

  Men like Rock didn't make propositions like that, not in small towns like Cailkirn.

  "One thing you'll learn about me, I don't have much of a sense of humor."

  Just a really healthy imagination. "You're saying if I agree to stay here and have sex with you, you'll let us film the movie on Jepsom Acres?" No way.

  People didn't really make deals like that. Not in this day and age. Okay, maybe they did, but not people like her. She'd never auditioned on the casting couch and she wasn't about to start now.

  And this man? He didn't need to make sexual deals like this. Especially not with her. He had to know that.

  Heck, she was practically hyperventilating with lust right now and he was smart enough to read the signs.

  So, what was going on?

  "Yes."

  Disbelieving, she stared at him. "You have to know I'm as attracted to you as you are to me."

  "It wouldn't be a lot of fun otherwise."

  "You're not doing this to get me into your bed."

  "Aren't I?"

  "You're doing it for Carey, no matter how much you don't want to admit it."

  Maybe Rock needed the fantasy to cover his emotional vulnerability to his brother. Or maybe the idea just turned him on and he was kinky. Shamelessly so.

  "If you say so."

  "So, you'll refuse if I do?"

  He leaned in and kissed her, his lips taking possession of hers, no hesitation, no slow build, nothing but undeniable passion immediately taking over every one of her senses.

  The kiss went on and on and she didn't want it to end. It had been too long since she'd been kissed like this. She wasn't sure she ever had. She couldn't remember feeling so much emotion, so much blatant sexual need sparking through her from a simple meeting of mouths. He hadn't even breached her lips with his tongue, but she wanted that. Wanted to taste him.

  Deborah's hands found his shoulders of their own volition, but they felt right when they landed. Hard muscles bunched under her fingers. She squeezed, needing to hold him close. Craving more.

  She'd never reacted to a kiss like this, but then she'd never been kissed with such intensity and focus either.

  She'd never been kissed by Rock Jepsom.

  He pulled her forward with arousing strength, and even more exciting eagerness, as he settled her on his lap. No question the man was every bit as turned on as she was. The hardness pressing against her bottom left no doubt either.

  He broke the kiss. "Are you?"

  "Am I what?" she asked in a breathy voice, her mind completely blank of anything but a crushing need to get back to that kiss.

  "Turning me down."

  Turn him down? Was he insane? Why would she turn him down? "No."

  She wanted him.

  "Good."

  Suddenly, he stood and she automatically wrapped her legs around his torso, uncaring that her skirt hiked up to her hips, loving the way her naked thighs rubbed against him. She locked her ankles behind his back and her lips to his in uninhibited passion. She'd go wherever he wanted to take her.

  He carried her out of the room. She took in the exposed beams of the hallway and then she was in a brightly lit room. It looked like an entire wall was glass, but she saw that it was a set of huge windows that peaked toward the ceiling.

  The view was magnificent, mountains off in the distance, nothing but nature to impede their majesty.

  The view inside the bedroom became too compelling to pay attention to anything else when she landed on the big four-poster, Rock looming over her, his handsome features cast in stark desire. Pure alpha male, he called sexual need from her very core.

  His gaze raked her, no humor, no charm evident. Nothing but the kind of sensual approval she hadn't thought really existed.

  "You are so beautiful, Deborah." His voice rumbled through her with the immediacy of a touch.

  "I work hard at it," she admitted with a transparency she rarely offered.

  His smile was predatory. "I bet."

  "Take off your clothes." She wanted to see him naked. Needed to see skin and muscle and his sex.

  She didn't care that women weren't supposed to be the visually stimulated ones. Who could deny the inspiration of a piece of art like the man standing before her?

  That predatory smile shifted to a feral grin. "You're not shy about what you want."

  "I am a woman, not a child." And her entire body was on fire. She'd never felt this
way. She wasn't about to waste a second of it on polite pretense. "I want you."

  He began stripping, his movements efficient but incredibly sexy to her. "You get me."

  She nodded. No doubts were able to penetrate the haze of overwhelming lust she felt.

  He revealed his body, one article of clothing at a time. His shirt came off, exposing golden skin and a V of blond chest hair. He might be a money man, but Rock did something to stay in shape. Blockbuster, male leads would kill for Rock Jepsom's abs. Heck, their body doubles would too. His shoulders were boulders, his thighs rippled with muscle, his calves belonged on a Michelangelo statue.

  And his engorged penis was a work of art all on its own. Long and thick, it jutted from a nest of dark blond curls in an invitation she couldn't deny. Deborah rolled up on her knees and crawled to the edge of the bed.

  "You got something in mind, hot stuff?" he asked, his voice gruff.

  Hot stuff. She liked that.

  "Yes." Kneeling up, she crooked her finger. "Come here."

  Sherry brown eyes flared with lustful heat. "You have this ethereal beauty, but it's all a mask, isn't it?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Other worldly you are not." His gaze roamed her body like possessive touch. "There's an earthiness about you that matches me fine."

  She'd never seen herself that way, but she wouldn't deny it now.

  Actors wore masks all the time. She'd never considered her looks a mask all on their own, but he might be right. She certainly didn't feel innocent. All she knew for sure was that she wanted this man in a primitive way that belied the satisfaction of every sexual encounter that had come before.

  "I want to taste you," she told him, no attempt to hide anything. From him, or from herself.

  He cursed and took a giant step forward. "You're so damned sexy like this."

  "You bring it out in me," she felt compelled to admit.

  "Good." His expression turned stern with a tinge of confusion in the depths of his eyes. "The idea of you like this with someone else pisses me off."

  She shouldn't like hearing that, but she did. A lot.

  "You like that," he said, calling her on it.

  Unable to deny words she'd just admitted to herself, she nodded.

  His expression turning feral, he dropped another guttural expletive. "You are annihilating my control."