Superstar

by Danielle Bourdon

  “Your sister?” Camryn asked, looking as surprised as she sounded.

  “Yes.” Maximo began pacing as he unfolded the story. He held nothing back, explaining how he and Raquel had the same dreams, and he’d just struck gold first. Raquel’s own star was rising, but she hadn’t been quite ready to make the announcement. Not until now.

  “I would have never guessed. But it makes sense that she didn’t want to be overshadowed by you, with all your recent success.”

  “She’s stubborn and proud. And she didn’t want to be shoved into the spotlight while she was still getting her sea legs, as it were, in Hollywood. But she’s got two good films under her belt now. I told her it was time, before things got out of hand with the paparazzi.” Maximo couldn’t sit still. He paced at the edge of the bed, occasionally glancing at Camryn. Despite his irritation over the missing recorder, he was distracted by the sweet picture she made. Hair mussed, rumpled clothes slightly askew.

  “Was that the announcement you were going to make?” Camryn asked.

  “Yes. I thought I’d let you officially break the story. This way, all the details come out at once and in an orderly fashion, rather than piecemeal through the media. Besides that, the guy Raquel is dating had some serious issues about that leaked photograph. She needs to set the rumors to rest.” He finally leaned against a wall and slid his hands into his pockets.

  “The conjecture about you and me is going to be a bigger story than that soon,” Camryn said, pushing a hand back through her hair. “You don’t think Aubrey is the type to sell that information, do you? To other tabloids? I’m not saying she’s the one that took the recorder for sure, but in theory.”

  “I don’t know, Camryn. I honestly just don’t know. But I’ll find out.” He pushed out of his lean and headed toward the door, glad to be on the move again.

  “Maybe I should ask her so you two don’t create more friction,” Camryn said. “I really don’t want to be responsible for problems on set.”

  Max glanced back, one hand on the doorknob. “If she took the recorder, it’s not your problem. It’s hers. I’ll be right back.”

  Nineteen

  Max strode down the hall to the foyer. Voices rose from a small group of people gathered with coffee mugs in hand. He recognized the director, Martin, as well as a few other key people involved with the movie. Thus far, Aubrey was nowhere in sight. He paused halfway down the stairs, hands braced against the banister.

  “Hey, Martin. Have you seen Aubrey this morning?” Maximo asked.

  “Well, there you are. I wondered why you weren’t down yet for coffee.” Half bald, five foot six, and barrel chested, Martin Tucker didn’t resemble a director so much as a professor about to teach class. He wore gray slacks and a light blue vest over a navy long-sleeved shirt. Round glasses sat on the bridge of his crooked nose. “I haven’t seen Aubrey yet.”

  The rest of the group chimed in that they’d not seen her yet either.

  “Thanks.” Maximo retreated to the upper floor and started his search of the suites. After five failed attempts he found Aubrey in a room all the way at the end of the hall. She opened the door, a yellow halter top cutting low enough to expose a decent display of cleavage.

  “Maaaaximo. To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked. A pair of beige khakis rode low on her hips.

  Cleavage, long legs, pretty face. Aubrey had it all going for her. Max hardly noticed because he’d seen it before. There were other, more pressing matters to attend to. He got right to the point. “I don’t suppose you noticed a recorder outside on the balcony last night, did you?”

  “A recorder? I didn’t notice, no. I was too distracted with other things.”

  Max couldn’t tell if she was lying or not. He didn’t know her well enough. If she hadn’t taken it, who did? “All right. If you happen to run across it, will you return it to me?”

  “Don’t you want to come in? You haven’t even seen my room yet.” She stepped back and gestured deeper into the suite.

  “I’m sorry, no. I’ve got plans.” He waited her out, wondering if she was stalling on purpose.

  “That’s a shame, Max. We really do need to get together and rehearse a few of our scenes now that we’re here. I know Martin doesn’t want us to until we’re on set, but I’d feel better at least running a bit of dialogue with you.”

  “The recorder? If you see it will you let me know?” he asked, pressing the issue. He knew his lines inside and out and wasn’t particularly enamored of rehearsing with her beforehand.

  “Sure, yes. I’ll make sure I give it to you if I run across it.” She smiled but looked slightly disappointed. “What about the reading?”

  “We’ll rehearse later this afternoon, how’s that?” he asked, just to get her off his back. “Only a quick run-through, though. Martin doesn’t want us hashing too much out ahead of time.”

  “Perfect. Meet me on the balcony at three.” Aubrey smiled, apparently pleased with herself at the arrangements.

  Max was less pleased at the moment. He’d hoped to have at least one full day to himself before dealing with work-related events. “Three it is.”

  He left her there and headed downstairs, where he discreetly questioned his other acquaintances and a few members of the staff.

  No one had seen the recorder.

  Maximo hoped Camryn had misplaced it during the chaos. Maybe it had fallen to the ground and one of them had kicked it across the balcony floor. He’d checked everywhere, though.

  Muttering his discontent, he headed back to his room.

  Any other investigative journalist would have taken advantage of being in Maximo Payne’s room alone. Lark would have snapped pictures of his ‘lifestyle’ out of the limelight, made a big deal about the bed he’d slept in and his shirt draped casually over the back of a chair.

  Camryn had time to jump up and snap a few shots, but she didn’t. Instead she fretted about the recorder, the recorder’s contents, and the manipulated pictures someone had threatened her with. After what she’d just been through with Denny, she wasn’t anxious to revisit that particular spotlight.

  The door opened and Max stepped in.

  Cam sat straighter, heart thumping hard in her chest. “Did she have it?”

  “No. And no one else has seen it either. I asked around.” He walked straight to the small fridge and pulled out a bottle of orange juice. “You want something?”

  “No, thanks. Not yet. But I don’t understand. If she doesn’t have it, and no one else does, then where did it go?” It made no sense. Cam immediately thought someone was lying. She’d searched too thoroughly, as she was sure Max had, and both had come up empty. The recorder hadn’t simply wandered off the balcony by itself.

  “I have no idea.” He sounded a bit terse.

  “I’m really sorry. I wish I would have remembered the recorder was on in the first place.” Spiked coffee sounded really good right then. About ten cups of it.

  Max drained the small bottle of juice and tossed the empty container into the trash. He picked up the notepad, pen, and her camera, and walked them to the bed. “You ready?”

  Camryn’s eyes widened. Was he serious? She looked like a ragamuffin, hadn’t brushed her teeth yet—again—and could only think of the horrors that would befall the both of them should that recording get into the wrong hands. Yet he was apparently prepared to trudge on with the interviews.

  “Yes. Let’s do it.” She pulled the notepad into her lap after he set it and the other things on the mattress in front of her folded legs. Now she just had to make her mind conjure up coherent questions.

  Maximo reclined at the foot of the bed, coming to rest on his side. His shirt fell open further, exposing more of his chest and the rippled muscles of his stomach. He propped his weight on an elbow and crossed one bare foot casually over the other.

  Camryn seized the moment. Snatching up her camera, she took three quick photos in a row. With the cozy, quaint background and slightly rumpled sheets, alon
g with his come-hither expression, she knew she’d caught a picture for the ages. Women were going to swoon their tails off, faint, or both.

  “Are you actually going to ask any questions, or sit there and stare?” He sounded somewhat amused.

  Snapping out of her reverie, Camryn laughed and put down the camera. She picked up the pen, set the notepad on her bended knee, and tried to focus. “You’re doing some staring yourself, so be quiet. I’m trying to think of which questions I want to ask.”

  “You’re worthy of staring at.”

  Camryn’s gaze darted from the notepad to his eyes. Why did he have to look so sexy? “You’re not making this easy.”

  “I’m just lounging here, waiting for you to get started.”

  “Looking like you might prowl across the covers and devour me any second.”

  “Would it be a bad thing if I did?”

  Camryn brushed her fingers against her throat, remembering his mouth there. “That’s a leading question.”

  “It’s an honest question. Besides, someone has to ask questions at some point.”

  She laughed and forced herself to look down at the notepad. “Okay. So. Uh . . . what’s your favorite color?”

  “The same gray as your eyes.”

  “Your favorite food is obviously cheese,” she joked, the pen hovering above the pad.

  “Are you saying my compliments are cheesy?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” She refused to look up. Already their intimate banter was getting under her skin. He was so easy to be around once a person got past his gruff exterior.

  “You didn’t seem to think they were cheesy last night.”

  She laughed despite herself and started doodling in the corner of the notepad. “You’re getting off topic. Favorite color?”

  “I already answered that.”

  “Answer again. Honestly this time.”

  “Of all the things you could be asking me, I can’t believe you’re querying my color preferences. That’s a bit at odds with the pictures you just took, don’t you think? Readers are going to wonder why you’re not inquiring about something a little more personal.”

  “Listen here, you bastard—”

  He laughed.

  Camryn glanced across the bed. His naked chest and rock hard abdomen proved very distracting. She wanted to lean over and run her tongue all the way to his—she jerked her attention back to his eyes. She recognized more than amusement lingering in his gaze. A familiar flicker of desire let her know he was as turned on as she was.

  He cocked a brow, waiting.

  “What do you find most sexy about a woman?”

  “A quick wit.”

  “I meant physical traits.”

  “Your mouth.”

  “Would you be serious for just one second?” Camryn looked across the bed again. It was a mistake. There was no getting around the gleam of interest in his eyes, as if he’d brought his prey into sight and might pounce any moment.

  “I am being serious,” he said. “Besides, if I’d said a woman’s eyes, you would have called me cheesy again.”

  Her shoulders shook with mirth. He was probably right.

  “Your mouth is my favorite, though. The shape of it. Your lips are full but not ridiculously full. I’m not a fan of inner-tube lips.”

  Camryn laughed out loud. “That is so wrong. The images in my head are terrible.”

  “Exactly. Imagine having to stare at that in real life all the time.” He shuddered.

  “Have you ever had to kiss inner-tube lips?”

  “Once. It felt like she might slurp my entire face off. Not sexy at all.”

  It took Cam five full minutes to get over her laughing fit. “I’m putting that in the interview.”

  “Because that’s enticing,” he said with a snort.

  “It’s amusing. I bet it’s a tidbit women don’t know about you.” She made notes like a madwoman, grinning the whole time.

  “You’re going to set the Inner Tube Lip Society on me. Then I’ll be doomed.”

  “We’ll distract them with what else you don’t find attractive in a woman.”

  “Is this supposed to be a positive interview? You’re setting me up for a mountain of hate mail,” he said.

  “Just picture it. Ten Things Maximo Payne Finds Most Unattractive In A Woman.” Camryn drew an invisible line through the air with her finger, as if reading from a headline.

  “I can see my epitaph now. Here lies Maximo, beloved son who might have lived longer if he’d kept his idiot mouth shut.”

  Cam knuckled tears from the corners of her eyes. “I had no idea you were so animated and amusing.”

  “That’s the result when you know you’re staring down the barrel of death. Let’s get back to the safer subject of favorite colors and foods. No one will murder me over my penchant for pasta.”

  Camryn rested her hands in her lap and stared across the bed at Maximo. His sarcastic retorts were not only amusing but endearing. She had visions of waking up every morning, listening to him go on about inner-tube lips, gray eyes, and pasta. Cam envisioned a lot of laughter and good-natured bantering.

  They were startling thoughts.

  “You look distracted,” he said. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not? I just told you something personal.”

  “Because this is my interview, not yours.” She scooted back to lean her spine against the headboard, smiling deviously at him the whole time. “Now then, let’s continue.”

  Twenty

  Max wasn’t sure when it happened. One minute he was answering questions, the next he had Camryn flat on her back. He spread her hair over his pillow with his fingers and laved his tongue around her nipple, drawing out more sweet sounds of lust. Every time she begged him for more, he gave it. Rewarding her, which in turn was a reward for himself. And she was exquisite, with ripe breasts, shapely hips, and legs that knew how to grip.

  He hadn’t been lying about her mouth. The perfect bow was a pleasure to kiss, and gave pleasure equally well. She was responsive, demanding, and knew what she liked in a lover.

  Max was happy to fulfill all her desires. Their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, as if made for each other. He drove her to heights that left screams on her lips, screams he muffled with more kisses.

  When it was over, he panted his appreciation into the side of her throat, hips jerking through the last spasms of an orgasm. The covers were somewhere around his ankles, shoved away by her feet and his.

  “I bet you’re not going to put the details of that in your interview,” he teased.

  “Don’t tempt me. I could write a whole novel about you,” she teased back.

  Bracing his elbows on either side of her head, Max stared down into Camryn’s eyes then kissed her lips. He couldn’t quite get enough of her. After a time, he disengaged with a quiet groan and rolled off the bed to his feet. “How about that breakfast now?”

  “I could eat. Probably three whole plates.”

  Her joke didn’t escape him. He laughed. “I feel a dare coming on.”

  She sat up, more rumpled than when she’d come into the room. Max liked the look on her. He propped himself into a lean against the archway into the bathroom, comfortable in his nakedness.

  “If I eat three plates of food, you have to give me a tour around Engelberg.” Her eyes sparkled with challenge.

  “You’re on. We may have to go tomorrow morning, is that all right?”

  “Any time is fine. Do you have plans today?”

  “I promised Aubrey that I’d rehearse with her at three. But we’ve got plenty of time to eat and lounge.” Max watched Cam’s expression closely when he mentioned Aubrey’s name. She didn’t seem to have any kind of reaction, which was a distinct change from the evening before.

  “Tell you what. I’m going to go back to my room, grab a shower and some new clothes, and then I’ll meet you on the balcony for breakfast. How’s
that?” Cam asked.

  “Fine by me. I’ll see you then.” He winked and turned into the bathroom for another shower of his own.

  Thoughts of his tryst with Camryn faded in favor of the recorder and its explicit content. He wasn’t convinced that he and Cam were off the hook with that.

  Quite the contrary.

  Maximo’s gut instinct told him that the recording would come back to haunt them both in the worst possible way.

  “What are you doing? What are you thinking?” Camryn stood beneath the shower spray, face tilted into the stinging heat. She blew water away from her mouth, which still felt swollen from Maximo’s bites and kisses, then turned around to rinse her hair one more time. Using her palms, she pressed the strands away from her forehead.

  She’d had sex with Maximo twice. The brand of his hands and mouth were all over her body, from discolorations on her throat to light bruises on her hips. Good thing she’d thought to stuff a scarf or two in her luggage before she’d left the States. Bruises on her hips she could cover; her throat was another matter. It wasn’t like she wanted to advertise that she’d been intimate with someone recently, especially when she was supposed to be here for work.

  Out of the shower, she dried off and took the blow dryer to her hair. Staring at herself in the mirror, she wondered how far she was going to let things go with Max. She’d be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t having a great time in his presence, and it wasn’t all about sex. He was sharp, funny, and handsome as hell. Full of charisma and enigmatic charm, Maximo knew how to keep a person entertained. Now that she knew he wasn’t with Raquel, should she bother holding back?

  Consumed with internal monologue, she applied a bit of makeup, pulled her hair into a ponytail, and sought clothes for their breakfast. Today she chose snug jeans with a little flare at the ankle and an ivory chiffon top with little buttons down the front. Wrapping a contrasting scarf around her throat to hide Maximo’s marks, she slid her feet into sandals and put in a call to Lark.