“Any more questions?” he whispered in her ear, so close his warm breath tickled her cheek.
He may be quiet, but perhaps that’s why he had a reputation as the master seducer. The subtle brush of his fingertips across her bare back, the whispers and those ocean-blue eyes—the man was charming seduction in stealth mode.
She turned, their mouths nearly touching. “I’ll take a rain check.”
Bronson leaned back just a hair and laughed. “And I’m sure you’ll redeem it soon.”
She smiled as they entered the grand foyer. “Count on it.”
“Vous êtes trop genre.”
Bronson jerked his head around at the flawless French that came from Mia’s glossy lips as she spoke to a popular French producer. She laughed, patted the elderly man’s beefy arm and turned back to Bronson.
“Sorry about that,” Mia told him, beautiful smile still in place. “On my way back from the chocolate fountain Mr. du Muir stopped me and we started chatting.”
Chatting? In French? First she shows up in the lobby looking like sin in stilettos, teasing him with upswept hair and a bare back that just begged his hands to explore more, and then she conducts a conversation in French that sounded as if she’d been living in France her whole life.
“I forgot you were fluent in French,” he told her, taking a champagne flute as a waiter walked by. He handed her the glass and an embossed napkin. “Mother told me you have an ear for languages.” Not to mention he’d seen it on her background reports.
“I speak French, Spanish and Italian.” She took a sip of champagne, leaving her plump pink lips moist, inviting.
“You even had the sexy accent down. You sure you’re not an actress?” He only half joked.
Not once at the Marché du Film opening night film earlier or since they’d entered the Icon Picture party had she acted shy or uncomfortable. She’d lit up the red carpet with her smile and sultry gaze into the cameras, and Bronson knew without a doubt that when he saw their pictures in a tabloid, his eyes would be glued to this Italian beauty. There wasn’t a man drawing breath who would blame him for being infatuated with her.
How many times over the past few years had she escorted Anthony Price to events? He’d never seen her, but then he hadn’t been looking and didn’t care who Anthony entertained. At least not at that point.
“Not an actress,” she assured him with a smile. “I just find speaking another language romantic and mysterious.”
“Romantic and mysterious?” Bronson leaned in so only she could hear. “The perfect description of my date tonight, wouldn’t you say? Makes me want to uncover more of you.”
Bronson leaned back, eager to see her eyes, even more eager to hear her response. But Mia’s dark gaze darted over his shoulder. Bronson turned to see what she was looking at, and the moment was gone.
“Oh, there’s your mother.” Mia waved, standing on her tiptoes.
“Darling!” Olivia closed the gap and kissed Mia’s cheek. “So sorry I’ve been scarce since the showing. I’ve been catching up with old friends. There’s quite a buzz about the beauty on my son’s arm. There’s not a man who can keep his eyes off you, my dear.”
Mia laughed. “Oh, please. Every woman here is stunning.”
Not like you. God, the words nearly came out of his mouth. But it was true. There wasn’t a woman in Cannes right this minute who compared to Mia.
Focus. He wasn’t here to get played by this woman—he was here to see what the hell she truly wanted from his family. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Anthony had some kind of agenda behind Mia’s career move. But he didn’t have to worry about his mother saying anything to her personal assistant about the script they’d been working on. It was just as important to her that nothing be revealed until they were both ready.
And, if Mia turned out to be as clean and innocent as her background check indicated, then he would let her be. But if he found out she was indeed working for Anthony, they both would rue the day they decided to cross the Danes.
Bronson kissed his mother’s cheek. “It’s a shame Victoria couldn’t join us this year.”
Olivia smiled. “Working hard on a big celebrity wedding trumps us, darling. That girl does work herself to death.”
Bronson laughed. “Says the pot about the kettle.”
Olivia wrapped an arm around Bronson’s waist in a half hug. “I’m proud of all my children for their hard work.”
Bronson was about to say something else, but his thought was lost as he looked to Mia. A flash of pain darted through her eyes.
“You’re all very lucky to have each other.” Mia took a sip of champagne. “Does Victoria usually attend, as well?”
“Almost always,” Olivia said. “She designed many of the dresses you see here tonight, and she loves nothing more than to admire her work up close.”
Bronson didn’t know about the other clients, but he was sure as hell happy with the dress she’d chosen for Mia. And he couldn’t help but wonder what other taunting designs would adorn Mia during their trip. What dress he would ultimately unwrap her from.
God help him. This was only night one.
“It’s getting late.” Olivia lifted her face, placing a kiss on Bronson’s cheek. “See you tomorrow. Mia, I’ll see you first thing in the morning.”
Mia smiled and nodded. “I’ll be at your suite by eight.”
As his mother disappeared beneath sparkling chandeliers into the sea of glitz, glamour and overflowing champagne fountains, Bronson turned back to Mia, who was placing her empty flute on the tray of a passing waiter.
Mia smothered a yawn. “I’m still a bit jet-lagged.”
He hated that the evening was drawing to a close, but it was late and he had an early meeting. “Then I’ll escort you to your room.”
With a warm smile that threatened to lure him in, Mia placed a slender hand on his arm. “No need to leave because I am, Bronson. I’m sure you have many more associates who’d love to chat with you.”
He shrugged. “It’s well after midnight as it is. You’re not the only one who needs to be well rested.”
Taking her soft hand, he laced her arm through his and escorted her through the party. He didn’t miss the fact that men seemed to keep their gaze on Mia a little longer than necessary…he knew the feeling of wanting to capture a mental picture of this beauty.
Mia, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to the attention.
“And here I thought all you Hollywood hotshots never slept,” she went on, smiling up at him.
Those dark-as-night eyes could make a man forget any scruples he had. The sweet floral scent radiating off all that bare skin made his mouth water. If the woman was this potent after one evening, how would he survive the rest of the trip?
Dammit. He hated being vulnerable, and Mia was working her way fast and hard under his skin.
“I won’t lie,” he told her. “We do burn the midnight oil quite often. Which is why we need to sleep when we can.”
As they stepped out into the warm night air, Bronson tasted the saltiness of the sea on his lips. He couldn’t help but wonder if Mia would taste the same.
Yachts lined the docks and bobbed gently with the subtle ripples of the Mediterranean. Thousands of twinkling lights glistened off the black water, setting a romantic ambiance seen in movies.
Obviously, a realistic effect.
“This place is amazing.” Mia snuggled closer to him as she looked out over the water. “I could live here and just stare at that gentle rolling tide all day.”
“We have coastline at home, as well.”
She looked back at him and tilted her head. “True, but there’s something romantic and glamorous about Cannes. I love Hollywood, but it’s all so…fake.”
Bronson laughed. “Fake? You’ve never faked anything?”
“No,” she said without hesitation. “What you see is what you get.”
His eyes roamed over her, then landed back on her flawless face. “The e
xterior is perfect without faking anything. But what about on the inside? You’ve never lied? That’s faking the truth. No?”
Mia looked back to the sea. “We all lie about something at some point, Bronson. It’s human nature not to reveal the truth when a lie can benefit us.”
Bronson stepped in front of her, keeping his hand on her arm. When she turned her gaze to face him, moonlight sparked off those deep, chocolate eyes. If he weren’t careful, he’d fall into them and lose the battle he was fighting with himself.
“What are you faking now, Mia?” he whispered.
A soft breeze from the water lifted a tendril of her hair and sent it dancing. He tucked the strand behind her ear, stroking a finger down the side of her face, down her neck until her breath caught.
“I told you.” She licked her lips, mocking Bronson because he wanted to be the one to lick that salty sea air off her parted mouth. “What you see is what you get.”
“What I get, huh?” he asked with a slight grin.
Bronson slid his hand up her bare arm, cupped the back of her neck and captured her lips beneath his.
Perfect. Absolutely…perfect.
God, he’d been so right in believing her lips would taste amazing. Soft, giving. Mia may be holding a secret, but if it had anything to do with her sexuality, he’d just uncovered it. There was a passion brewing beneath this confident, yet private woman.
She wrapped her fingers around his biceps, whether to push him away or hold on as he continued assaulting her mouth he didn’t know. But he wasn’t going to stop unless she made him because one taste, just one, had him pulling her against him. His hands roamed up that bare back that had mocked him all evening. Damn this dress. He wanted it off her. Now.
With their bodies only separated by his tux shirt and thin layers of chiffon over her breasts, Bronson could feel the effect he had on her.
A snap and flash had him pulling back just in time to see a paparazzo running in the other direction.
Damn.
“Oh, God, did he…”
“Yeah.” Bronson gritted his teeth, taking a step back to put some space between them. “He snapped our picture and now he’s probably running back to whatever rag he works for.”
Mia held a hand over her mouth, eyes wide as she stared back at him. “Oh, Bronson, I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry because we kissed or sorry because we got caught?”
She smoothed that dangling strand of hair back. “Is that your way of finding out my feelings about what just happened? I’m not sorry we kissed. Surprised, but not sorry. I am sorry if what just happened ends up in the newspaper and causes more grief for your family in the press, especially with my recent scandal.”
Her concern seemed genuine—but so had her French accent.
Bronson shrugged. “My body blocked your face, so as far as the media’s concerned, you’re a nameless woman.”
But now that he’d had a sample, Bronson wanted the rest of what she had to offer.
Three
Nameless woman.
Mia wished those words from two nights ago still didn’t cut right into her heart, but they did. Is that how Bronson saw her? Was he just kissing her as a prelude to a passing fling? How many women walked away from this Hollywood playboy on weak knees, nursing a broken heart?
God knew hers were still shaking from that toe-curling kiss. But would she just be a statistic when this week was all over? How flattering.
Mia touched up her lip gloss over lips that ached for more of Bronson’s touch and examined herself in the ballroom’s bathroom mirror. The short, deep plum dress with one shoulder bare and the other with a long, flowing sleeve made her feel just as sexy and feminine as the previous dresses.
Night three of the festival was no different than the others…except that she was aching even more for Bronson, and she knew she was every kind of a fool for feeling this way.
She was realistic, though. He may want her physically, but that’s where their relationship ended. That didn’t stop her from daydreaming, and their smoldering kiss certainly hadn’t done a thing to diminish her attraction. Bronson Dane was every woman’s walking fantasy, and her hormones were no different than those of any other female who’d had the fortunate opportunity to be close to the Hollywood powerhouse.
Mia smoothed a hand over her belly, trying to calm her jumbled nerves. Only a few more days and they would be back in Hollywood, and Bronson would be off to meetings about his next movie prospect.
She’d watched him charm actresses and build up actors’ egos, though Mia knew it was just for leverage if he wanted them in a film one day. Hollywood was all about getting everything you wanted, no matter who you had to play to get it. And Bronson played the game like a pro.
But she doubted he needed to do all the charming. Bronson Dane was a force to be reckoned with in the industry. Turning down a chance to work with him would be an idiotic career move for anyone.
Mia smiled at an elderly woman and exited the bathroom. Just as she turned at the end of the hallway, she ran into Anthony Price.
“Mia.” He pulled her into his strong arms for a friendly hug. “I thought I saw you the other night, but discounted the idea. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
She jerked back. “You can’t do that. What if someone had taken a picture?” What if Bronson had seen them?
Anthony glanced around. “Paparazzi aren’t allowed in here, but I do apologize. I was just shocked and happy to see you. Are you here with Olivia?”
Mia smiled at her previous employer. “And Bronson.”
Anthony’s smile dimmed. “Really. Do they—”
“I haven’t said a word, Anthony.” She knew he was nervous about opening a nearly forty-year-old secret and potentially ruining lives—she didn’t blame him. “I told you I wouldn’t reveal the secret and I keep my word.”
“I know you do.” He sighed. “I just haven’t figured out how to handle this. I mean, after all these years, lives will be changed forever. Not only that, but with my situation at home…”
Glancing behind her, Mia offered a smile. “I know. I’m here for you any time you need me. Don’t think because I’m not working for you that I’m not available to talk.”
“I appreciate that, Mia.” Anthony smiled. “I’m still trying to figure out why I let you go.”
“Because your marriage is more important than your assistant,” she reminded him. “You’ll be just fine, Anthony. You both need some time. But I should get back to the party before Bronson starts looking for me or someone sees us. It certainly won’t help your case.”
“You’re right. I can’t afford to lose Charlotte. But it was so good to see you again.”
“Perfect timing.”
Mia jerked around at Bronson’s deep voice. “Bronson.”
“Don’t let me interrupt,” he told her, his gaze on Anthony. “I was wondering if you were okay, but now I see you are.”
Why did she feel like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t have? Damn. Could she not talk to a close friend without someone assuming something more sinister was going on?
Mia was smack dab in the middle of two of the most powerful men she knew. The air around them crackled with tension. Now that she could see them both up close, she studied their faces.
Yes, the resemblance was there. Subtle, but it was there.
Ironic that biological half brothers, raised in two separate families, could both grow up to be Hollywood moguls and totally despise each other.
“I didn’t realize Mia was your date,” Anthony told Bronson. “You’re a lucky man.”
Bronson’s gaze narrowed. “Yes.”
Mia couldn’t handle the awkward silence. God, if she was this uncomfortable, she couldn’t imagine how Anthony felt, having known the truth for the past six months.
When Anthony chose to reveal the secret to Olivia, he’d told Mia he would not cause a big scene and make more scandal than necessary. Even though he and Bronson despise
d each other, Anthony had always expressed his respect and admiration for the Grand Dane and wouldn’t do anything to purposely hurt her. Though he would confront her, eventually. He had a lot of questions for her.
Well, Mia knew one thing. She didn’t want these two together any longer. All they needed to do was have an argument about anything at all and news of it would be sent to every media outlet within moments—complete with pictures that would fuel the press even more.
She moved over to Bronson, placing a hand on his arm. “You ready? I could use some champagne.”
The muscle in Bronson’s jaw ticked. Mia gave a subtle tug on his arm.
“It was great to see you, Anthony,” she said.
“You look beautiful, as always, Mia.” Anthony leaned over and kissed Mia on the cheek. “I’m sure I’ll see you again before the festival is over.”
Mia smiled and, thank God, Bronson led her toward the champagne fountains. Celebrities mingled, sipping drinks, laughing, and all Mia could think of was how hard her heart was pounding over being in the middle of Bronson and Anthony. Mercy, they were something remarkable to look at, but she certainly wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of either of their angry stares.
As long as she just focused on her job and let Anthony handle everything, she had nothing to worry about. Yes, she wanted to help blend these two broken siblings, but that was not her place. Because she knew—God did she know—how much damage could be done by letting a life-altering secret slip.
Mia stopped at the champagne fountain and turned to Bronson. “Relax.”
His piercing blue gaze landed on her. “I’m relaxed.”
“You were until you saw Anthony. Now you’re shooting daggers.”
“It’s no secret that we don’t get along,” Bronson told her. He took a delicate flute and filled it with champagne. “Besides, I thought you two were finished. Or don’t you care who sees you?”
“I worked for him. We’re friends. That’s the extent of our relationship.” Mia took the drink he offered.
Caught in the Spotlight Page 3