“You know almost every jewelry store has to deal with knockoffs. I’ll bet the woman who deceived you bought black-market fakes at the corner kiosk.”
Quinn eyed her oddly. “But how would this woman have known what Laine would wear?”
Maggie had never expected Quinn to react to last night in any way but casual. Now he was questioning her as if he suspected someone in the office might have been his mystery woman. But they both knew that too many people worked in Simitar Studios for him to begin narrowing down the possibilities. Costuming alone employed several hundred people. And his office personnel included another few hundred if he included secretaries, clerks, assistants, messengers and cleaning people. Most likely he’d figure that the woman he’d been with was an aspiring actress and that could mean any one of thousands of women who came into contact through the studio’s network of casting agents. If he included people at the jewelry store and the press, he couldn’t even begin a rational search.
Still, her stomach churned. What was she going to do? She had to think fast to lead him in a different direction.
Maggie shrugged to hide her breathless surprise. “Maybe someone in wardrobe mentioned the jewelry to her hairdresser who mentioned it to her mother who told the neighbor—you know how it is. Or maybe the jewelry store sent the items out ahead of time to be photographed for a fashion shoot, hoping to capitalize on extra publicity with Laine wearing them. You want me to ask around?”
“No.”
“This other woman really made you think you were with Laine?” Maggie probed.
Quinn didn’t answer her question. Instead he tossed the faxed receipt back to Maggie. “I need to find her.”
“Why?” she asked, playing all innocentlike, but very, very curious. Carefully she placed the receipt back into her drawer. “Do you want to sign her for your next movie?”
Quinn’s eyes burned a hot green flame. “This is personal.”
“Oh.” As his secretary, she had to back off. But she hoped he’d continue. She especially wanted to learn how he felt about her.
Quinn spoke in a burst of speed. “If you must know, she was a great lover.”
“Really?” Maggie didn’t have to feign fascination this time. “What did she do?”
Quinn threaded his hand through his hair, looking sexy in his distress. But then all the man had to do to look sexy was breathe. “That’s the hell of it. I don’t know exactly why I can’t get her out of my mind.”
“Next you’ll be telling me you’re in love,” she teased, trying to lighten the moment.
“I don’t believe in love,” Quinn snapped.
Maggie let out a long, low sigh and shook her head. “You’ve never loved anyone? What about your parents?”
“That’s different. Sex isn’t involved.”
“So if you have sex with someone, you can’t love them. That’s a theory I’ve never heard before. Did you learn that on Jerry Springer or just make it up?”
Quinn frowned at her. “Why are we having this discussion?”
“Because you’re confused.” Maggie teased him again, sensing that if she gave him one ounce of pity, he’d retreat into anger. “Because you need my good sense to set you straight?” She held her breath, wondering if he’d retreat to his office again.
Instead he flopped in the chair opposite her desk. “I suppose you believe in love at first sight?”
“Why not? My father claims he fell in love with my mother in the fifth grade. Three kids, five grand-kids and forty years later, they’re still in love.”
“That’s bizarre.” Quinn spoke matter-of-factly, his expression as doubtful as if she’d told him to believe in a fairy tale.
She supposed her parents’ long-term relationship sounded odd from his Hollywood perspective. Many celebrities replaced marriage partners more often than they did their cars. Yet, however much fun he made of her middle-class Michigan upbringing, she had her own values and her own sense of self-worth.
“Sleeping with a woman whose name you don’t know is bizarre,” she countered, and watched him flush.
“I thought she was Laine Lamonde.”
“But even while you still believed she was Laine, you never thought you loved her, right?”
“Of course not.”
“So why can’t you just chalk up the night to a great experience and let it go? The lady obviously doesn’t want to be found.”
“What about what I want?” Quinn countered. “I mean, she just dropped into my life, then disappeared. What kind of woman would do that?”
“Oh, come on, Quinn. How many times have you gone out with a woman and then never seen her again?”
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
“Because usually when that happens, it’s a business date. You know that. The woman knows that. The women don’t expect anything except a little publicity and maybe a part in my next film. Most of the time, we don’t even kiss good-night.”
Maggie hadn’t known anything of the sort. All those times she’d arranged for his car, his dinner reservation, she’d longingly wanted to take the place of his date.
She’d always figured Quinn got the girl in bed. “What about all those hotel reservations that you had me make?”
“For publicity. Nothing more.”
Quinn took most of those women out for appearance’s sake? Apparently he wasn’t the playboy he seemed. And his revelation floored her.
Quinn wasn’t a playboy.
She tried the thought on for size and oddly found that it fit. Quinn’s business relationships lasted for years. He’d used the same accountant and lawyers for the past decade. He had certain directors that usually became his friends—long-term friends. And despite his unstable childhood, he remained in contact with both of his parents.
When he’d taken out one woman after another, she’d just assumed he was a playboy—instead, he hadn’t been interested enough to ask the women out again. Yet, Quinn wasn’t a monk, either. He’d engaged in two longer relationships since she’d worked for him. And he certainly knew his way around a bedroom—he’d more than proven that to her.
She spoke more sympathetically. “You still haven’t told me why last night was so special.”
“I don’t know.”
“I think you do.”
“I said that I don’t know.”
“I know what you said.”
A silence between them grew while he appeared to be thinking hard, probably back over their evening. And she couldn’t help wondering if he remembered their time together so very much differently than she did. The air between them had seemed electrified. Rarified.
And she waited for Quinn to figure it out, wondering if he saw himself clearly enough to be able to do so.
“She didn’t want anything from me. She even returned the jewels.”
He hadn’t given her the answer she’d expected. She’d thought if he spoke at all, he’d mention the act of making love, not the reason behind the act.
“Excuse me? This woman wanted sex from you, right?”
“She didn’t ask for a part in my movies. She didn’t ask me to read a script she’d written. She didn’t ask for gossip to print in tomorrow’s paper or an introduction or—”
“She wanted you.” Maggie finally got it. “And only you.”
“It was incredibly…flattering.”
“And that’s why losing her is so hard,” Maggie realized, sympathy entering her tone, reflecting her feelings.
Quinn’s voice grew tight with determination. “I’ll find her.”
At the fierceness of his tone, a tiny shock of apprehension shivered down Maggie’s spine. She’d never expected Quinn to be so affected by last night’s fling. In actuality, she hadn’t thought about his feelings at all. One of the reasons Quinn was so wrong for Maggie was that she wanted a man who came from a stable background. And she’d never pegged a man who had starlets at his beck and call as anyone who would think of their time together as anyt
hing but an erotic interlude.
She figured that for him the night would not be so different from any other night. That she wouldn’t be so different from any of the other women he went out with. For him, the night should have been a lark, a good time, a fond but fleeting memory.
Before she’d impersonated Laine, she’d wondered whether she was fooling herself. If making love with him one time would be enough to set her craving for him aside. She still didn’t know. Her feelings were jumbled inside her. She needed time to sort out what to do, where to go from here.
So this entire conversation with Quinn seemed unreal. She didn’t know how she felt, and it was ironic that he’d come to her for advice and to vent.
For the first time, Maggie wondered if she’d made a mess of things. She looked up into the harsh determination in Quinn’s eyes and forced herself to speak. “If you found her, if she was here in the room with you right now instead of me, what would you say to her?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters.”
“Not until I find her.”
“And how are you going to do that?”
“I don’t know, but she must work in the industry. She knew Laine was coming and that she canceled her plans to be with me. She knew what dress Laine would be wearing. She even wore the right jewelry. All that information had to come from an inside source. She obviously went to a lot of trouble. But why?”
“Perhaps, you’ll find her and ask her,” Maggie offered, for lack of anything useful to say. She couldn’t give him her reasons without giving herself away, not when she had so much else to think about.
The telephone rang, interrupting their conversation. It was Mia, an actress and former friend of Quinn’s who’d married and moved to Vancouver. She placed the woman on hold, curious to see what Quinn would do. “It’s Mia.”
He sighed. “Tell her I’ll call her back.”
Maggie did as he asked, wondering if he wanted to avoid talking to the woman, or if he preferred a more private time to talk with her. She couldn’t read Quinn—his expressionless features told her nothing. She didn’t like that he could so easily close off his thoughts to her—especially after what they’d shared.
She’d set up their night together as a one-time event, but that was before she’d known Quinn could be so affected by her. Before she’d known that Quinn was not the playboy she’d assumed him to be. And while her plan had worked out even better than she’d anticipated, the repercussions boggled her mind.
What was she going to do?
What did she want to do? Have another go-round with Quinn without revealing her identity?
Oh, yeah.
But was that even possible? She didn’t know yet. Right now she could only be sure that their time together had been spectacular. And way too short. Was she becoming addicted to the danger, to the risk or to him? While long-term was out of the question, since he wasn’t the kind of man who’d ever settle down—judging from his parents’ histories and his own lack of commitment to any woman—she certainly wouldn’t mind an encore, and from the looks and sound of him, he wouldn’t, either. In fact, he seemed even more impatient and eager than she could have ever hoped.
Quinn scowled in obvious frustration. After all he’d thrown at her, Maggie needed to be alone to think and digest. Yet, it was her nature to try to make things better, and she couldn’t stop herself from offering Quinn hope.
“Quinn, maybe she had such a good time that she’ll find you.”
6
QUINN REMAINED IN MAGGIE’S office as the phone rang again. He should return to work, but he was reluctant to leave this conversation without some answers. Maggie hadn’t been as helpful as he’d hoped.
Maggie picked up the phone. “Simitar Studios. Quinn Scott’s office.”
She listened intently, then hung up the phone. “We have a problem.”
“What?”
“Laine Lamonde flew her Boston terrier, Molly, over here two months ago. The dog should have been released from quarantine today. It wasn’t.”
“And this is my problem because?”
“Laine’s agent says she would so appreciate it if you could rescue her dog—”
“Send Kimberly.”
“Can’t.” Maggie grinned at him. “I’m afraid this may take your silver-smooth tongue.”
“Why can’t Kimberly—”
“Because only the owner or the owner’s representative can pick up the dog.” The fax machine beeped. “The power of attorney is coming through right now. It’s in your name.”
Quinn swallowed a string of curses. What was it with him and dog problems? He didn’t even own a pet. He figured it wasn’t fair to keep an animal and then not be there for it—it was the same philosophy that kept him from considering ever having a wife.
“How long has the dog been in quarantine?”
“Two months. Why?”
“Would it be cruel to make her wait another day?”
“I suspect Molly would be fine but do you want to disappoint Laine?”
He sighed. “You’ve got a point. I’ll need you to come with me.”
“Me?”
“You don’t expect me to steer the car and hold the mutt do you?”
“I could order a limo for you.”
“I don’t think so. I need to drive—I think best behind the wheel.”
Quinn waited for Maggie to cancel his appointments and to arrange to have his calls answered by the service. That done, he escorted her out of the building into the humid sunshine. He actually enjoyed the ride through the city. In the middle of the day, traffic was light and he found driving on L.A.’s freeways pleasant—not a common sentiment.
Maggie didn’t chatter. He liked that about her. She respected that he had things on his mind and didn’t pry. Yet, if he’d wanted to talk, she would have accommodated his wishes. He’d been lucky to inherit the perfect secretary and reminded himself that he really should get the studio to give her a raise.
They arrived at the quarantine section and showed his identification to the woman in charge. Tall, black, overweight and world-weary, she fingered the power-of-attorney paperwork. “Is this a fax?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Quinn smiled at her but his charm didn’t make a dent in the woman’s frown.
“Faxes aren’t legally binding.”
“Says who?”
“My boss. If you want to yell at him, he’s two doors down that corridor, then take your first left and it’s the second door on the right.”
Her boss, skinny, short and bald with thick eyeglasses took one look at the fax and shook his head. “No can do. You’re wasting my time and yours.”
Quinn was about to step forward and pummel the desk in frustration, when Maggie shook her head slightly and sent him a let-me-handle-this look. “Excuse me, sir. Do you know that this Boston terrier belongs to Laine Lamonde?”
“Never heard of her.”
“This man is director Quinn Scott—”
“Never heard of him, either.”
“But you’ve heard of Jason Scott, haven’t you?” Maggie tried again, her tone a model of patience.
Quinn shifted from foot to foot. If the man hadn’t heard of Jason Scott, they should quit while they were behind.
“Sure I heard of him. Jason Scott’s a film legend.”
“Well, this man is his son and the woman whose dog he’s trying to pick up is starring in his next film. We might be able to arrange for you and your wife to attend the premier if you could help us.”
The man peered at Quinn. “I do see a family resemblance.”
Quinn bit back another comment. He really didn’t want to spoil Maggie’s efforts on his behalf.
“And this lady that he’s trying to help out is still in France. Plane trouble. She’s really worried about her dog.”
Was Maggie laying it on too thick? No. She had the petty bureaucrat practically eating out of her hand.
He actually winked at Maggie.
“Well, you know what they say?”
“What?”
“Rules is made to be broken.”
Quinn refrained from wincing. He didn’t consider himself a snob, but as a writer he hated to hear the English language mangled so badly.
He pulled out a form, filled in the dog’s name, Laine’s name and copied Quinn’s driver’s license number onto it, then stamped it. “Here take this back to Mandy. You’re all set.”
“Thank you for the help.” Maggie picked up one of the man’s business cards. “We won’t forget.”
Except they weren’t all set quite yet. Mandy took the form and gave it to a Hispanic girl with large brown eyes and a wistful smile. She promised to bring the dog to them in a jiffy.
Thirty minutes later they were still waiting. Quinn hated dealing with bureaucracy. That’s what assistants were for. Between his aggravation over Laine’s impersonator and dealing with dog problems, his patience was wearing thin. Other people had come and gone with their pets, but there was no sign of a Boston terrier named Molly.
Maggie approached Mandy again. “Ma’am. I was wondering if you could check—”
“You people are still here?”
Quinn barely bit back a sigh. If the woman had once looked away from her computer screen over the counter, they would have been in plain sight.
Maggie upped the volume of her voice. “I’m so worried about this dog. You haven’t lost her, have you?”
Behind them, other people who waited to claim their animals heard her and frowned. Behind the counter, dogs in cages barked and birds cooed. The odors didn’t help Quinn’s bad mood.
“Perhaps, we should go see your boss again?” Maggie suggested just a little too sweetly. Watching her play onto the other woman’s fears was just a little too satisfying. He’d always known Maggie was good at manipulating people, that trait made her a good secretary. For a moment Quinn even wondered how often she manipulated him.
But then the Hispanic girl slid around the corner and hurried over. She whispered in Mandy’s ear. “We can’t find the dog.”
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