“He’ll only learn that his mystery woman works in the building or had a guest pass. Of course, I’ll be there after I call in sick, but he still won’t know that it’s me.”
Kimberly sipped her beer. “Suppose he turns on the lights?”
“He doesn’t really want to know who I am.”
Kimberly rolled her eyes. “And how do you know?”
“Because he likes the game. He told me he was glad I called him. And he doesn’t want our encounters to—pardon the pun—come to an end any more than I do or he wouldn’t have suggested that we meet tomorrow.”
Maggie pulled out all the stops. She opened a kitchen cabinet, removed a box of Godiva’s chocolate-dipped apricots and pushed them across the table. “So, will you do it?”
7
QUINN ENTERED SIMITAR STUDIO the next morning completely out of sorts. After the stimulating phone conversation with his mystery woman, he couldn’t sleep. Restless, on edge, he’d spent most of the night tossing and turning. He’d never been this turned on by any woman. Never been this distracted from his work. Never been so worked up over a woman that he had trouble falling asleep. Finally, early in the morning, he’d slid into a deep slumber only to have his mother phone from Africa to ask if he had work for her on a new film when she returned.
Already late, Quinn had showered in haste, wondering if his mystery lady would fulfill her promise to him today. Usually he could count on the studio’s security to keep out intruders, but he suspected that she worked at Simitar Studios. Unfortunately thousands of people worked in the building and he didn’t know them all.
Quinn wondered if the woman was playing him. Could she be wrapping him in a web of sexual intrigue only to ask him for something later? As much as the thought bothered him, he’d been around long enough to know that whatever demand she eventually might put to him that he could always say no. And in the meantime, he intended to enjoy himself.
Despite his lack of sleep, Quinn was eager to face the day, eager to meet any surprises his secretive lover threw his way. So he wasn’t as perturbed as he normally would have been to find Maggie nowhere in sight, and Kimberly sitting behind his secretary’s desk.
“Good morning, Mr. Scott,” Kimberly spoke to him, one hand covering the phone’s mouthpiece.
“Where’s Maggie?” Quinn asked, after nodding a greeting.
“Sick. I’m filling in.”
Not good. Quinn sipped a triple espresso, suspecting he’d need the extra caffeine kick without Maggie in the office to run interference. Of all the days she had to be out, why did it have to be today? If his lover showed, Quinn would have preferred competent Maggie sitting behind the desk to cover for him.
Maggie always had the extraordinary ability to keep him organized, not easy when he couldn’t predict what he’d be doing from one minute to the next. “Any messages?”
Kimberly reached for the stack, knocked them over and paper fluttered like fall leaves in a winter wind. “Oops. Sorry.” She scrambled on hands and knees to pick up the messages.
“I’ll be at my desk.” Quinn carried his coffee into his office before she spilled it—and before he opened his mouth and said something about her clumsiness. Normally Quinn might have been amused that every time he met with his very capable production assistant she turned into an accident waiting to happen. But today, he’d have preferred for his office phones to be answered smoothly and efficiently.
He had work to do. Instead of asking Kimberly to patch him through to John Davis, he dialed himself.
The talented director picked up on the first ring. “Hey, Quinn. Can I call you back? I’m two weeks behind schedule and five million over budget.”
“So why do you sound so happy?”
John cooed. “I am soooo in loooove.”
“Gracie—” Quinn knew the actress and John’s leading lady well “—is looking hot?”
“She and Bontiki create a chemistry together that’s igniting the screen.”
Since John’s current film was another of Quinn’s projects, he couldn’t have been more pleased. The budget overrun had been foreseen, as had the extra days of shooting. “What do you think of Laine Lamonde?”
“Don’t know her. Heard she’s a prima donna with a capital P. Hey, dust her, don’t bury her.” Quinn realized that John was talking to someone on the set, not him, before the director said, “Sorry, Quinn. Fairy dust doesn’t agree with our poor Gracie who wears contact lenses.”
“We need to talk about your next project.”
“Have you signed Laine?”
“Her plane had mechanical trouble. She should be here soon.”
“Shit. Gracie looks like a freaking ghost. She’s a fairy, damn it.” J.D. switched back to Quinn. “And the male lead?”
“That’s why we need to talk.”
“Okay. We wrap around nine. Meet me for drinks at ten? You’re buying.”
“Ten, it is.” Quinn typed the appointment into his PDA and told it to flash reminders at him on the hour, every hour, starting at seven.
The moment he hung up, Kimberly buzzed him. “Mr. Scott?”
“Yes?”
“You want me to bring in your messages now?”
“Sure.” Unless she expected them to fly in here by themselves.
Kimberly opened his door, scooted inside without tripping over her own feet, walked across the desk and placed the messages on his desk.
“Thank—”
A loud clatter sounded as the reels of film that she’d been carrying under her arm dropped and rolled onto his desk. And knocked over his coffee, spilling over his messages.
“Sorry. So sorry.”
Quinn jerked back before the coffee slopped on his suit, then tossed a few napkins onto the spill. “Would you relax?”
“How can I relax when you are the most important person in my life?”
“Excuse me?” His head jerked up and his eyes narrowed. Kimberly had him going for a minute there, but no way could she be his mystery woman. Her hair was dark and long enough to hit her waist. She was slender and feminine, tidy. His mystery woman was curvier, taller and, most of all, she had a boldness about her that Kimberly could never carry off, at least not without a few more years behind her.
“I want to make movies, Mr. Scott.”
“Just call me, Quinn. Everyone else does.” He ignored the coffee and stared at her intensity. Her face was flushed, but her eyes had the determined look of a Valkerie. If she’d had a sword in her hand, he might have retreated.
“Do you think I like being a production assistant? Well, picking up your film at the airport every day is not what I went to film school for. I want to write, direct and produce, and while I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get there, you aren’t cooperating.”
Quinn folded his arms over his chest and concealed his amusement. He was enjoying her passion for her work, enjoying watching her find out that she could stand up to him and win respect. “I’m not cooperating?”
“Have you read my script?”
“I’ve been busy.”
“If I wait until you’re not busy, we’ll both be dead.”
“Maggie probably has the script in her file cabinet. Why don’t you find it and give it to me?”
“Why?”
“Well, it probably isn’t good for mopping up coffee. Maybe I’ll read it,” he suggested wryly.
Kimberly fisted her hands on her hips and raised her chin. “If you don’t read it this month, I’m going to send it over to a friend of mine at ADM.”
“That was your first mistake,” he instructed kindly. “But you were doing really well until then.”
“Huh?” Kimberly backed away, looking alarmed by her previous boldness.
“Lesson number one. After I told you I’d read the script, you got what you wanted. That’s the time to shut up. Your threat went too far. It wasn’t necessary and could have pissed me off, but it didn’t this time—so take it easy, okay?”
“Sorry. I’
m new at this.”
“Hey, if you bring as much passion to your writing as you do to spilling my coffee, the script must be great.”
Quinn glanced down at the messages he could no longer read. “Do you remember if anyone important called?”
“Laine Lamonde’s agent. George Lucas and your father.”
“Anyone who didn’t leave their name?”
Kimberly looked at him and her eyes widened. “I got a strange call from some woman with a French accent. She wouldn’t leave her name, but how did you know…”
“Did she leave a message?”
“Yeah. She said to make sure you watched your film at one o’clock sharp. Any idea who she is?”
“Not a clue.” Which was the truth. And Quinn couldn’t have been more pleased. “If anyone female shows up unannounced for an appointment while I’m watching the film, let her through. Don’t look at her too closely. And don’t ask questions or you might scare her away.”
Kimberly scooted around his desk to mop up the spill. “Got it.”
MAGGIE SLEPT IN LATE and woke up wonderfully refreshed. Then she set about what she did best—made plans for the day. After a wonderful massage and facial, she felt ready to call Kimberly and see how things were progressing at the office.
In the mall, Maggie stopped in front of a pile of on-sale lingerie and dialed her cell phone.
Kimberly answered on the first ring. “Mr. Scott’s office, Kimberly speaking.”
“How’s it going?”
“Where are you?”
“Shopping for panties. Tell me why do thongs cost the most when they have the least amount of material?”
Kimberly ignored the rhetorical question. “He’s going to read my script.”
“Atta girl. What did you do? Knock him over the head with it?”
Kimberly laughed happily. “Actually I spilled coffee all over his messages and yelled at him.”
“Quite a technique.”
“I think he’s in an especially good mood because he expects a nameless woman to show up while he’s watching that film in the dark.”
“That’s what I want him to think. I’m sure by now he suspects that I work for him but since thousands of people work here, I’m still safe. And I’m not showing up yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because I want him anxious to see me.”
“If you ask me, he’s already there.”
“And I want security to see me come into the building. The day and night shifts change at five. I plan to enter at ten to five. If you can, before you leave, mention to Quinn that I dropped by to pick up my spare set of keys. Tomorrow I’ll claim that I locked mine in the car while at the doctor’s.”
“If Quinn checks with security, you’ll be right where you said you’d be.”
“Exactly.”
“But if you don’t come when the room is dark, he’s going to see your face.”
“I’ve got it covered. There’s a package coming at four. Make sure he opens it.”
“Okay.”
“Thanks, Kimberly.”
“I should be thanking you for giving me the chance to fill in today. I’d never have worked up the nerve to yell at him if I hadn’t been so close to tears.”
“He’s going to love your script. I know it.”
Maggie hung up the phone, brought her purchases to the counter and signed the credit card receipt without looking at the total. She hurried out of the store, wondering exactly what Quinn would do when her package arrived. She sensed that after their first night together, he’d been determined to discover Maggie’s identity, but after their phone sex, he’d seemed more willing to go along with her scheming. And since he knew he would be with her again, no doubt he figured he had plenty of time to learn her name. In the meantime, he should enjoy the tryst she had planned. She just hoped his curiosity wouldn’t get the best of him.
Because she trusted Quinn to keep his word, she’d agreed to this meeting today. And if she was risking her job, so be it. Sometimes a girl had to do what a girl had to do. If she backed off now, she’d regret the decision for the rest of her life. She had too much emotionally invested in seeing this through to hold back. If Quinn fired her…there were other jobs.
She imagined Quinn opening the box she’d messengered over. He would find the gift inside that she’d promised. And instructions.
She could hardly wait, as anticipation energized her nerves until she could barely swallow any of her lunch salad. Would Quinn be wearing her gift?
QUINN WATCHED THE MOVIE, expecting his lover to slip into the dark room at any time. He’d already decided that he would turn off the movie as soon as she entered, giving her the darkness she needed to preserve her identity. When she didn’t arrive, disappointment washed over him. Perhaps she hadn’t been able to sneak past security. He didn’t want to consider that she might go back on her word and not show at all.
Quinn’s obsession with his mystery woman had intensified, and he thought he knew why. Besides the sizzling sex, she had yet to reveal her identity. Or what she wanted. He suspected as soon as she did, his obsession would end and she would be just another woman who wanted to act in his films. However, in the meantime, he’d be a fool to end the excitement. He hadn’t ever looked forward to seeing a woman as much as he did her.
After viewing the film, he’d spent the afternoon fielding phone calls with agents, financiers and writers, which didn’t improve his temper. Where was she? Why hadn’t she come to him? Or at least phoned to let him know that she would be in touch.
“Quinn, I just signed for a package for you,” Kimberly told him. “There’s no return address.”
No address? It might be from her. “Please bring it to me.”
“I’ve another stack of messages, too.” Kimberly placed the messages on his desk next to the brown box. She’d actually managed to enter and exit his office with only a minor stumble.
“Thanks.” He waited until she’d closed the door behind her before reaching for the box, but when his private phone rang, he picked up the phone instead. This red line came directly into his office and didn’t go through his secretary. Only the most important people in his life had the number. His parents. A few close friends. And the men who financed his films.
Quinn could have opened the box and answered his phone at the same time, but both things were important to him, each requiring his full attention.
Caller ID told him Derek Parker was on the other end of the line. “Yes, Derek, what can I do for you today?”
“I’ve heard some rumors that I don’t like,” Derek told him bluntly.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Laine’s in Vancouver.”
She was? Her agent, Tyrol, had told Maggie that she was heading out to this coast. Had Tyrol been deliberately vague to mislead him? Quinn hadn’t gotten to his position in life by making assumptions. And he knew Derek well enough to know that the man had checked out the rumor before calling him. He was just grateful the appearance of the fake Laine at Hotel Vendaz hadn’t made the tabloids or he might have had even more of a mess on his hands.
“I have a meeting with Laine’s agent next week,” Quinn responded.
“Dan O’Donnel’s in Vancouver.”
“I see.”
“Whoever signs her is getting my full backing. Your film is better, but whoever signs Laine will have a huge hit.”
Quinn appreciated the other man’s honesty. His film would still be made with or without Laine, but he needed a huge budget to pull off the period piece and authentic sets he had in mind. Without the funding, his film wouldn’t do well at the box office.
He needed to find Laine and sign her before O’Donnel did. He only hoped he wasn’t already too late. “Thanks for the information. I think maybe a trip to Vancouver this weekend might be in order.”
“Take the company jet.”
Quinn checked his PDA and made a note to himself to have Maggie cancel several appointments. “How about golf next
week?”
“Monday morning?”
“Sounds good.”
“Quinn, there’s one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“I heard Laine Lamonde is quite the man-eater. Watch your balls when dealing with her.”
Quinn’s pulse quickened. He enjoyed nothing more than a good challenge. And now that Derek had called his attention to Laine, Quinn wondered whether her plane trouble and her delayed trip had been deliberate. Maybe her appearance at the Hotel Vendaz had made the French papers and she was miffed at being up-staged by an impersonator.
Another less experienced man might have been more concerned about O’Donnel’s bid to sign Laine, but Quinn suspected the lady was simply trying to up her price. Interesting—and melodramatic, but then actresses loved melodrama. But he would deal with Laine later.
Right now his fingers itched to open his present and he reached for the box. Inside, he found a black silk blindfold and a note. His heartbeat quickened as he picked up the white piece of paper scented with jasmine. Words had been cut from a magazine and newspaper then glued to make a message.
Dear Quinn, I will come to you very soon in your office. Please be ready for me by wearing the blindfold. And only the blindfold. If your door is shut, I will assume you are inside, waiting for me, naked.
Quinn grinned at her audacity. The idea was kinky, kooky and kindled a heat in his groin that made up his mind for him. This time she wanted to be in control and he had more than enough backbone to let her.
Quinn buzzed his production assistant. “Kimberly?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The woman who I spoke to you about earlier is going to pay me a visit.”
“The one without a name?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you stay until she arrives and then lock the door behind you?”
“Sure.”
“And absolutely no one but her is to come into my office.”
“Sir?”
“Yes.”
“How do I know that I’m letting the right person through?” Quinn supposed Kimberly’s question was reasonable and he really didn’t have an answer, but that was part of the fun.
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