Date With a Diva

by Joanne Rock

  Perhaps she just didn’t travel in the right circles, but it had been her experience that there weren’t very many nice people in the world. Everyone had an agenda. Shoot, she’d be the first to admit she had one. She even kept lots of little lists to be sure she was accomplishing tasks on the way to her big goals. Life was all about getting ahead.

  “Daisy?” The Southern accent lingering over the syllables in her name jerked her attention back to the movie scene. The gray-eyed male who’d spoken made her heart beat faster.

  Bram Hawthorne had called to her from his spot on the set near his incredibly gorgeous costar who looked as if she’d been poured out of the same mold as a Barbie doll.

  Daisy waved to him in response, not sure what the etiquette would be for guests at the filming. She didn’t want to get kicked out before this scene of Bram’s even started. The scene he’d wanted her to see.

  She got all tingly just thinking about it. He’d had one of his assistants track her down in the lobby to invite her to the taping. Surely that boded well for possibly hooking up later? A tryst with a superstar hadn’t been on her list of ways to flaunt what she’d made of herself in front of her family before she left South Beach for good, but it would fill the bill. Not that she carried a grudge against her mom and dad for making her feel like the town slut when she’d gotten pregnant in high school by the first guy in her life who made her feel special.

  After losing the baby in a miscarriage and losing the guy thanks to her dad’s threats, Daisy had given up seeking family approval. If anything, she’d probably sought sex for sex’s sake too many times since then just to assure herself she was in charge of her own life and could make her own decisions. But lately she’d realized that if she continued that pattern of behavior, she’d be every bit the town slut they’d long ago accused her of being. Rather than live up to the world’s low expectations of her, she’d decided to ship out of South Beach in search of new beginnings.

  But it couldn’t hurt to chase a man for the sake of his bod this one last time. And if her mother turned green with envy that Daisy had finally struck gold in her man quest, that was just frosting on the cake.

  Speaking of sweet treats, the cake in question wore a ripped T-shirt and jeans that looked as if he’d slept in them for three days. Jeans that also happened to showcase his package very nicely. Women all over the world would thank the costume designer.

  As she daydreamed about what lay underneath those jeans of his, she realized he was headed her way even though the director had just said they were almost ready to start.

  “Thanks for coming.” He smiled at her as he neared the roped-off area where the guests stood. “Hope you don’t mind me sending somebody else downstairs to look for you, but I wanted you to be here to see this.”

  Something in his voice sounded so sincere. So genuine. Maybe it was just because he was an actor and he was better at picking up women than most guys. Still, she couldn’t help but smile back as she lowered her voice to bedroom volume. “Then I guess I’ll be sure to keep my eyes on you.”

  “Bram?” The director called to him in a moment of supremely bad timing. Daisy could have sworn Bram had been about to say something nice. Maybe even flirt right back with her.

  “Ready.” He sounded so sure of himself as he nodded to the director, a short, androgynous-looking woman dressed all in black.

  Daisy rocked back on her heels, ready to take in the show. Whatever was going to happen in his scene today, Bram obviously wanted her to see it.

  She just hoped it wouldn’t take long, because she had the feeling she wouldn’t be able to get a good look at what she really wanted to see of his until later.

  “CAN YOU SEE OKAY?” Nico whispered the words in Lainie’s ear just so he could have an excuse to get closer to her. He breathed in her scent as the director shouted for everyone to take their places.

  Lainie nodded, her attention on the shuffling of camera operators now, even though she’d been staring at Daisy the pseudowaitress just a few moments ago, steam almost visibly hissing from her ears.

  Now the former Club Paradise employee seemed to settle in to watch her quarry. In fact, she’d just pulled a notepad from her shoulder bag and proceeded to scribble a few lines on a piece of paper. Nico briefly wondered if the wily female had a game plan for how to snag a superstar. He sure hoped Bram was more discriminating about his taste in groupies than Nico had been.

  But as Lainie’s heady scent rode the scant space between them, Nico’s thoughts drifted back to the scene. To Lainie.

  They watched together as Rosaria Graham tossed her long black curls over her shoulder and settled into the divan. Whipping out a set of playing cards, she flipped them into a solitaire arrangement. Bram took his place on the edge of the set and when the director shouted “action,” the actor charged into the scene, scowling.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Bram’s character did a damn good job of emoting cold, hard fury.

  Nico put his hand on the small of Lainie’s back in an instinctive gesture at the guy’s raised voice. Hadn’t they signed on for a love scene?

  Rosaria continued to flip cards. “I’m hunting for old ghosts, remember?”

  Bram swiped the cards off the divan in silent fury, sending clubs and aces flying across the room. “I mean what the hell are you doing here in South Beach, tracking a goddamn killer without me?”

  “You think you’re my ace in the hole, Slick?” She flicked away the last card she’d held in her hand.

  “Think again.”

  Nico’s eyes darted to Lainie, wondering what she thought of the heroine calling the guy Slick—the same not-so-freaking flattering name Lainie called him. For that matter, the movie’s title Diva’s Last Dance, reminded him that the heroine was probably the diva. Just like Lainie.

  But she seemed not to notice, or was too taken up with the scene to care. Her green eyes remained riveted on the action in front of them as Bram hauled the heroine to her feet, his hands squeezing her upper arms with convincing force.

  “Must be you’ve forgotten what kind of ace I’m packing.”

  Even Ms. Calm, Cool and Collected Lainie looked surprised when the guy reached into his pants.

  6

  LAINIE DIDN’T CARE how big a movie star Bram Hawthorne might be, she was going to sue him and the whole production company if he withdrew anything male and naked from his shorts. He reached deeper, wrapped his hand around some sort of rod—

  Lainie held her breath.

  —and pulled out a handgun.

  Whew. She glanced up at Nico who’d somehow moved much too close to her, but in the dark privacy of the theaterlike setting, she didn’t bother saying anything about it. She couldn’t deny a rush of pleasure when he’d put an arm around her as the scene started. And now he winked at her as Bram’s character discussed his weapon, his travails with Mexican drug runners to retrieve it and his fervent hope Rosaria would show a little bit of gratitude for his efforts.

  She greeted his words with a huff and a flounce, spinning away from her pursuer. “I won’t kiss your ass, no matter what I owe you, so you can just forget it.”

  “Then how about I kiss yours instead?” He slid the gun to a side table and stalked closer to the woman.

  Lainie had to admit Rosaria Graham didn’t fit her idea of an adult-film star at all. First of all, she was an extremely competent actress. And although she was every bit as stacked as former Club Paradise cigarette girl, Daisy Stephenson, the rest of her was athletic and agile looking. Exuding strength and grace, she prowled around the small set exchanging verbal barbs with the hero, a man her character didn’t seem to fully trust.

  Smart woman.

  The cameras moved around the scene, occasionally impeding Lainie’s view. But she could see everything perfectly when the heroine flipped him the middle finger. And when the hero lunged for her again.

  Lainie hadn’t expected to see a fight scene, but she had to admit there was a sensual edge about
it as Bram tackled Rosaria. As Rosaria tackled him back. They rolled across the bed, exchanging positions of dominance, until they hit the floor with a thud.

  Was that scripted?

  The couple panted and cursed, kicking over a small table and dislodging a basket of blindfolds that Lainie knew were normally kept in a cabinet as props in the room. There was something decadent and undeniably sexual about the strewn blindfolds and the struggling couple. Their breathing grew heavier as she yelled at him for ditching her in a hotel room in California and he cursed at her for having a death wish.

  And then he kissed her.

  Not a sweet, melting kiss, but a kiss of bold, unapologetic domination. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Daisy Stephenson stiffen, but she couldn’t afford to give it much thought right now since the kiss seemed to be affecting her, too. She didn’t realize how much until Nico’s hand slid around her waist and up beneath her jacket.

  It came to rest on the black-lace teddy she’d worn beneath her power suit today.

  Pleasure rolled through her. Her belly. Her thighs. She could almost feel his touch in those places, wanted to feel his touch in those places. The hungry, achy tingle of her skin made her breasts tighten, her nipples crest to stiff peaks.

  The heat from his body seeped through his clothes, calling to her. The scent of him—the antibacterial soap and the faded, musky aftershave—filled her nostrils. If they were really watching this movie in a darkened theater she would seriously consider crawling into his lap right now and searching out the hard planes of his body with her hands. Molding herself to him until she lined them up chest to chest, hip to hip. Hell, maybe she’d just straddle him and ride him until she worked this hungry demon out of her.

  Rosaria and Bram were peeling one another’s clothes away. Her blouse flew across the room. His shirt popped buttons and slid off his arms. They still rolled around the carpet, crushing the strewn blindfolds beneath them as they wrestled for position. Rosaria’s bare arms flexed, her triceps taut and lean as she pushed Bram’s big shoulders to the floor.

  Lainie noticed Daisy backing away from the scene, but Lainie couldn’t take her eyes off it. She wondered if she could ever be that aggressive in bed. The wild struggle tantalized her, called to some long-denied urge inside her. She’d always striven to be in charge of her professional life, thriving on commendations and accolades the way other people thrived on food and water. What if she took all that self-ambition and released it in another direction?

  Her heart slugged a heavy response to the thought even as Nico’s hand rose, his fingers brushing along the underside of her lace-covered breasts. Could he feel the thudding of her pulse? Did he guess how her skin chafed to be free of that lace and spill into his hands? His mouth.

  Lainie stood paralyzed by Nico’s touch in the darkened periphery of the action. He shouldn’t be doing this to her. Not when other guest viewers stood nearby in their cordoned-off area. Yet it felt delicious. Decadent. And well deserved.

  She’d been without for so long. Even during her marriage, especially the last year when she’d been denying that her husband could be cheating on her yet had known in her heart he probably was, Lainie had avoided physical contact with him wherever possible. She hadn’t wanted his hands on her when they might have just been on another woman.

  Sex went to hell in a hurry under those circumstances.

  To have a man’s hand on her now, his thumb drawing small circles on her rib cage while his pinky stretched almost to the waistband of her skirt, the sensation made her weak with want. Even feisty Rosaria slowed down her fight when Bram brought his thigh up between her legs. He held it hard against her, his fingers already manipulating the zipper of her leather pants.

  Lainie went wet with wanting, envisioning her and Nico that way. Her thighs spread wide by his legs. His hard body poised over her soft, aching curves. Or, better yet, his hard body underneath her while she remembered every sexual urge she’d ever repressed in the last two long years.

  “Cut!” The director’s voice made her jump.

  Nico’s hand fell away from her as the actor and actress broke apart as easily as if they’d been engaged in backgammon instead of foreplay. Someone clicked on a lamp near the guest viewers, making Lainie blink and squint as she fought her way out of intense daydreams.

  “Let’s go.” Nico drew her toward the exit by her arm before she was ready to leave. She’d only barely exchanged niceties with the set director when they’d arrived. But then again, she didn’t feel on her game after the scene they’d just watched. After the secret touches in the dark.

  Squeezing out into the hotel corridor after nominal thank-yous to the film crew, they found some breathing room.

  They weren’t the first ones. Lainie could see Daisy walking away from the Fun & Games Chamber with her spine stiff and her gait hurried. Apparently she hadn’t enjoyed the scene as much as Lainie had.

  “Where can we go?” Nico’s question brought her attention back to him as he glared down at her with a fierce expression.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” She couldn’t have a discussion with him now. Not after whatever had just happened in there between them.

  Her hormones were not only reawakened, they were neglected, starved and cranky as hell after the ridiculously long hiatus. She couldn’t afford to have any conversation in which they played a contributing role.

  “You know damn well what I mean and we need to talk about this.” He steered her across the Persian carpet toward the elevator bank. “Which will it be—your office or your suite?”

  The doors opened before them and Lainie panicked just a little. “I can’t get in an elevator with you like this.”

  He held up his hands. “I promise I won’t treat the elevator like a food-supply closet. Just tell me where we can go for some privacy.”

  Desire pooled low in her belly at the thought of taking him back to her rooms. Of being wild and aggressive with Nico Cesare.

  She couldn’t take him to her suite. That sent all the wrong messages—both to him and her hungry libido. Then again, she couldn’t take him to her office where a thousand and one employees seemed to congregate whenever they ran into a problem. What if her libido got the best of her and she jumped Nico right before a co-worker strode through the door?

  Stepping into the elevator, she made up her mind. “Fourth floor. We can talk in my suite, but only long enough to clear up any mixed signals we’ve got going back and forth between us.”

  Nico followed her into the small lift lined with shirred, salmon-colored silk. He stabbed the necessary button until number four lit up. His jaw clenched as he turned to glare at her. “Trust me, there won’t be any confusion about the message I’m sending after today.”

  Oh.

  O-kay.

  Lainie stared at him as waves of heat and obvious sexual frustration rolled off him in waves. She knew she shouldn’t send mixed messages to a man on the edge. And she planned on making herself very clear once they got back to her room.

  But until then, she had hormones bubbling in her veins, too, and her wants were no less urgent than his. Telling herself she had one more floor and ten more yards to go before she needed to act on logic, Lainie took a step closer to all that male heat.

  “What if I tell you that, like it or not, I don’t have a clue what message to send back to you?” She moved in as near as she dared without getting burned. “What if I know in my head that anything between us is impossible, yet that doesn’t stop me from wanting to drag you into my bed and lock you up for twenty-four hours of our own fun and games?”

  Nico felt his right eye begin to tremble. Twitch. Throb with the pounding beat of a pulse gone rogue.

  The elevator chimed its arrival on Lainie’s floor just as his eyes started to cross with lust. Latching onto her arm, he hauled her out of the elevator before he realized he had no idea where to go next.

  “Right. All the way at the end.” She already clutched her room key in her free h
and.

  “Do you have any idea what a mammoth gauntlet you just tossed me back there?” He fumed and hoped he didn’t foam at the mouth. “I can’t take any more of your brand of fun and games. No more of this red light, green light bullshit.”

  After yanking the card out of her hand, he opened the door. He knew the Club Paradise employees all called this suite The Diva Penthouse in honor of its resident, but he’d never even been up to this floor before. He’d been so annoyed about his sister working in such an oversexed environment that he’d pretty much stuck to the kitchen when he’d visited her here. Now that Giselle had left the States to travel abroad with her boyfriend, Nico finally realized how shortsighted and selfish his views had been.

  All the more reason not to be shortsighted and self-serving now. Sure, it would be easy to haul Lainie up against him after her provocation, but how long would he have before she came to her senses? Before she booted him out and locked him out of her life for good?

  “Red light, green light?” She followed him into her suite, tossing her leather binder on a small sideboard near the front door. The rooms looked as if they hadn’t yet been renovated, the living area a collection of bold seventies furnishings against a backdrop of gold walls and taupe carpet while the kitchen maintained a forties art deco sensibility. Shiny white cabinets and bright silver drawer pulls looked so retro they could almost have been modern except for the well-worn linoleum flooring.

  His gaze moved to the doorway leading to her bedroom and a neat white bedspread, but he didn’t dare go there with the tension running high between them. After steering her toward the safer terrain of the sofa, he waited for her to take a seat and then lowered himself to the solid block of unadorned wood right in front of her that served as a coffee table.

  “You know, stop and go. The kiss outside the hotel after the ‘we need to part ways’ speech. The kiss in the kitchen pantry and then you ditch me. The heavy breathing and the heart palpitations I could feel right here.” He slammed his own chest with his palm, even though he was actually referring to her chest. Which he couldn’t actually look at right now if he expected to maintain his grip on reason. “Then in the elevator, you toss out this huge land mine of ‘I’m not sure, but sex sounds great.’ Jesus, woman. I think I burst a blood vessel or six.”