His Larkville Cinderella

by Melissa McClone

  She stumbled over a piece of seaweed. Sticking her arms out to keep her balance, she managed to stay upright. No doubt she looked like an idiot. As usual. She was all limbs and hair. Always had been.

  A few people stood at the water’s edge. In spite of the gray sky, women wore tiny strips of fabric that showed off their toned and honey-gold tanned bodies. Megan would never have the nerve to wear a bikini like that even if the temperature had been warmer and the sun shining.

  Men wore board shorts and no shirts. Muscular physiques abounded. One thing was certain. The beach was a magnet for attractive men. But she’d still take Rob over any of them, even if he were thinner with not so many muscles. He wanted to spend time with her. He was always there to give advice, offer support and hang out with. Guys like him were hard to find.

  She looked at each of the men. None had Adam Noble’s trademark tousled brown hair and loose curls.

  Megan dug the toe of her shoe into the sand.

  Where could he be?

  She noticed everyone was looking at the water. A lone surfer rode a massive wave. He did a fancy move with his board. She thought he might wipe out, but he somehow stayed on his feet.

  Two women cheered. Another clapped. One man whistled.

  A different woman sighed. “Adam is so hot.”

  Megan studied the surfer, who wore some sort of wet suit. It didn’t take her long to realize Adam Noble was the one riding the wave. He cut back and forth on his board, across the rolling wave, doing tricks and inspiring oohs-and-aahs from the captivated crowd.

  Show-off.

  She wasn’t impressed. Okay, she would give him a few props for making the women drool and the men stare at him with envy. But Adam could have ridden the wave without doing so many risky moves. The guy had a starring role in a new feature film, one she would work on as part of her internship. He should be more careful, not out there endangering himself and possibly the entire production so he could perform for his adoring fans on such a big wave.

  Talk about an idiot.

  He reminded her of those cowboys back home who risked their lives for an eight-second ride on some bucking bull named Diablo. The guy was all brawn. He didn’t have a brain cell in that handsome head of his.

  No wonder his costars slept with him. They probably couldn’t find anything to talk about with him and figured sex was an easy way to fill the time between scenes.

  Thank goodness Adam was riding the wave to shore. The sooner she could get him to the villa, the sooner she would be able to get back to the studio.

  Megan might be a lowly intern with only more errands to run, but she had better things to do than stand around and wait for a self-indulgent, stupid movie star like Adam Noble.

  * * *

  As Adam walked to the beach with his board tucked under his arm, waves lapped around his calves. Water dripped off his hair and ran down his lite three/two full suit. He couldn’t wait until summer, his favorite season of the year, when he wouldn’t need protection from the cold water.

  He smiled at the small crowd watching him. Being a star meant putting up with fans wherever he went. He didn’t mind. Fans were the ones who paid to see his movies. Without them, he’d still be doing stunts and going home with sore muscles and bruises.

  He’d gotten used to the invasion of privacy except for the paparazzi. Those vultures lurked everywhere with their digital cameras and high-powered lenses, waiting for a chance to capture him looking or doing something stupid. He always had to be on guard and make everything he did appear effortless.

  Like surfing.

  Even if he thought he would wipe out. Twice.

  Adam would hate to see a picture like that plastered over the internet and tabloid covers with a “shocking” headline blaming alcohol or drugs or some mysterious woman for his fall. The tabloids exaggerated and blew everything he did out of proportion. But not this time.

  He’d stayed on his feet. Once again. And gotten a much needed rush. He loved surfing on the Fish, a light and maneuverable surfboard. Few things in this world beat taking a risk, whether it was with surfing or acting, and succeeding.

  As he hit the sand, three women thrust out their chests barely covered by bikini tops and sucked in their stomachs.

  His gaze ran along the line; the blonde had a pretty smile, the brunette had exotic looks and the auburn winked at him.

  One thing he could say...his job didn’t suck. But he wondered if any of the three women didn’t use the word like in every other sentence and could have a conversation that lasted more than five minutes.

  Men extended their arms to shake his hand. Other women said breathy hellos, tilted their heads coyly and touched his arm.

  He continued through the crowd, acknowledging each person. Okay, the women. He preferred more of a challenge than many female fans offered, but he was still a man.

  Nothing wrong with looking.

  He could invite a couple women to Chas’s villa, but he doubted the producer would want the meeting turned into a party. It had been delayed long enough due to the costume designs not being here. He should get back and see if they’d arrived.

  His gaze left a zebra-striped bikini-clad Sports Illustrated– swimsuit-issue-worthy body and saw pink. He jerked to a stop so hard he thought he might get whiplash. Instead of soft skin and delectable cleavage, he saw a baggy pink T-shirt hiding every feminine curve he might want to check out. Jeans―baggy, as well―covered her legs except for white calves. Not the hint of a tan—or even a fake one—on her legs or arms.

  Allergic to the sun? Unless she was one of those vampire types.

  She looked to be in her early twenties. Her shoulders hunched, as if she were trying to hide or maybe had bad posture. Light brown unruly hair was clipped haphazardly on the top of her head. Corkscrew curly strands stuck out every which way. Unglossed lips pressed together in a thin line. But her eyes drew his attention.

  Dark, thick lashes surrounded pretty brown eyes. The color reminded him of a cup of espresso. Dark and rich with subtle hints of something more, something deeper, spicier.

  A funny feeling took root in his stomach.

  He stared, captivated.

  Warm, expressive...and not happy to see him.

  He did a double take.

  Disdain filled her eyes, making him feel like a piece of trash washed onto the sand by the tide. He knew the feeling all too well and didn’t like it one bit.

  Adam forced his feet to move and walked past her.

  At least she wasn’t one of those rabid stalker fans who stared at him in awe, saw his movies at least three times on opening weekends, slept on a pillowcase bearing his image and believed he was truly the character Neptune, his most successful role to date, and wanted him to impregnate her with a half human, half deity fetus. Those women scared him.

  “Mr. Noble.” A feminine voice with a slight twang called his name.

  Adam stopped. People rarely called him mister. He kind of liked it. He wondered which of the scantily dressed beauties the Southern accent belonged to. He wouldn’t mind playing Rhett Butler to a Scarlett O’Hara, especially one who showed the same strength as the Georgia belle. He turned.

  The girl with the messy hair and pink T-shirt took a step toward him.

  Her? He was usually luckier than that, except she did have beautiful eyes.

  On second look, she wasn’t as plain as he originally thought. She reminded him of a Midwestern tourist or one of those nerd types who attended schools like Cal Tech or MIT and recited lines from The Lord of the Rings without a moment’s hesitation. Kind of cute if you liked geeks. “Yes?”

  She looked at the sand, as if meeting his gaze would turn her into a block of stone. “The meeting is about to start. They would like you to come back to the, er, house.”

  Funny, but he would have never expected her to be in the business. She didn’t look like any personal assistant he’d seen running around a lot or set. Someone’s daughter or niece? Maybe the housekeeper or nanny. �
�You were sent to get me?”

  As she nodded, hair fell out of the clip. Curly strands framed her face. Her high cheekbones, a nice straight nose and full lips were attractive. But she wore no mascara, eyeliner or foundation. Not a hint of lipstick. He was used to women wearing makeup and going to great lengths to play up their assets and look their best. This girl seemed to have missed that memo. Or maybe she didn’t care what people thought about her. He found that idea very attractive.

  “Duty calls, ladies,” he said to the women in bikinis.

  As they walked away with promising smiles, the girl before him shook her head. She’d yet to smile.

  Her attitude amused him. He wondered what it would take to turn her disapproval into acceptance.

  “Who are you? A PA?” Adam asked her.

  She tilted her chin. “I’m Megan Calhoun. An intern.”

  Aha. So she was at the bottom of the food chain. But that didn’t explain the way she was acting. Her attitude and her looks wouldn’t help her move up the ladder.

  “We should get going, then.” He wanted to get her to crack a smile. “I wouldn’t want to be responsible for getting you into any trouble.”

  No smile, but her features relaxed. Gratitude shone in her eyes. “Thanks.”

  Interesting how she let every emotion show. The girl must never have heard the expression poker face before. Adam could have some fun with that. In fact, he would.

  “You’re welcome.” He handed her his surfboard. “Here.”

  She inhaled sharply. As her fingers gripped the wet board, she struggled to hold on to it. The Fish weighed ten pounds or so, but it was half a foot taller than her. “You want me to carry this thing?”

  The indignation in her voice made him bite back a smile. Not quite a modern-day Scarlett, but as close as he’d find on a beach in Malibu. “You’re the intern.”

  “In costumes,” she clarified.

  Now that surprised him. Costume people tended to dress the part. They didn’t wear their best clothes when working on the set because they could get dirty. But they usually looked good. Stylish, even in their grubbies. Megan dressed like one of the tech crew. Maybe she liked being comfortable, not stylish and fashionable.

  “You’re still an intern.” Adam wanted to get a response out of her. This should do it. He grinned wryly. “And I’m the star.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  MEGAN’S full lips narrowed into a thin line. Pink colored her cheeks. Resentful, offended, annoyed, angry, put out. Her feelings flashed across her face brighter than the neon lights on the Las Vegas Strip.

  Adam had wanted a reaction. Looks like he got one.

  He fought the urge to laugh. Someone who didn’t know how to control her emotions was rare in a town where showing any weakness could mean you were shark bait. He liked it. “I suppose I can carry the board myself. If it’s too much trouble for you.”

  Megan didn’t say a word. But the determined set of her chin and the gold flames flickering in her eyes told him to back off.

  He did. Playing with her was more fun than he thought it would be. He didn’t want her to get angry and storm off. Not that any intern would do that if they had half a brain. Truth was, he was the star and could get away with...a lot.

  She maneuvered the Fish awkwardly, as if she’d never held a surfboard before. Given the way she tried to carry it, she probably hadn’t. She looked like she might tip over.

  He reached toward her, but she shrugged off his assistance. Interesting. Many women liked playing the damsel in distress to his knight in shining armor. Not this one.

  Megan readjusted the board, nearly losing her balance again. She walked toward the villa.

  Adam’s respect inched up. She was tougher than she looked. He liked rooting for the underdog. He’d been one himself until recently.

  He lengthened his stride to catch up to her. “Being an intern sucks. But you have to start somewhere in this business.”

  He waited for her to say something. She didn’t.

  “I was a stuntman and a stand-in before becoming an actor,” he continued.

  Still nothing. That was...odd.

  Something had to be wrong with her. People sucked up to him no matter what he did. Women would kill to be in her spot right now. Not carrying the surfboard, but having his undivided attention.

  “Long hours.” Adam wasn’t sure why he was trying so hard. Maybe because most women liked him, flirted with him, wanted him. He wasn’t used to it when they didn’t or how to feel about that. He settled on amused. A challenge was always nice. “But it paid off in the end.”

  Megan stared at Chas’s patio about a hundred yards away, as if Adam didn’t exist. He might as well be talking to a brick wall. That was both annoying and intriguing. Women didn’t ignore him. Okay, a few did because they were playing hard to get. Megan didn’t look like that type, but he’d never put anything past a woman. He’d grown up watching his mother do some crazy things to get a man.

  “Let me guess,” Adam said, not ready to give up. “You’re interning in costumes, but you really want to be an actress.”

  Megan stared at him as if he were a wild animal let loose from its cage at the San Diego Zoo. A V formed above the bridge of her nose, making her look strangely attractive. “Do I look like someone who wants to be an actress?”

  Her harsh tone matched the annoyance in her eyes. “Honestly, no. But you could be a method actor and deep in character at the moment.”

  The V deepened. “What character would that be?”

  He studied her—curly, messy hair, slumping shoulders, two-sizes-too-big clothes that could be hiding some delectable curves. Or not. “Insecure girl desperately seeking a boyfriend.”

  Her icy glare would have frozen the equator.

  He’d been a little too honest. Next time he’d stick to being polite. “O-kay, not an actress.”

  As she walked—almost marched—away from him, heading toward Chas’s place, Adam’s curiosity grew. No rings on her fingers. Hooking up with her could be a possibility. Though she wasn’t his type. He preferred athletic women who were tan, lithe and straight-to-bed sexy. Still he wouldn’t forget those eyes anytime soon.

  “So...” he said.

  “I’m here doing my job, Mr. Noble,” she said. “You don’t have to go out of your way to talk to me.”

  Her straightforwardness surprised him.

  “Call me Adam. I’m just messing with you about carrying my board. A little Hollywood hazing of the intern.” He waited to see if she was amused. Nope. He almost regretted making her carry the board. “I’ll take it now.”

  She tightened her grip on the board and sped up.

  Stubborn. Adam had to admit he was impressed by Megan Calhoun’s total lack of sucking up to him. He wanted to know more about her. “You sound like you’re from the South.”

  No reply.

  “You must be new in town,” he tried again.

  Megan glanced his way again, only this time her gaze was wary. “Why do you say that?”

  Her pale skin and clothing were dead giveaways. Not to mention her ignoring him. Most people no matter what their job title and status in the industry would leech on to him, like barnacles on the hull of a boat, in hopes of getting a boost to their own careers. “Just a hunch.”

  “I’ve been here six days.”

  “A newbie.”

  She nodded.

  “First time in Malibu?” he asked.

  Another nod.

  A breeze toyed with the ends of her hair. Adam wouldn’t mind twisting one of those curls around his finger. He imagined her hair loose, flowing past her shoulders in long ringlets. The temptation to remove her hair clip was strong.

  Nah, better not try it. She would drop the Fish. Or hit him with it. The mousy ones could be a lot stronger than they looked. Megan might not have the posture of a ballerina, but she was showing some backbone.

  “They call this weather the May Gray,” he explained. “The June Gloom follows.”<
br />
  “I thought the beach would be sunny.”

  “Don’t let the clouds fool you, you can still get sunburned. Always wear sunscreen.” That was what his mom had told him. He bet Megan’s nose would be a little pink soon. Her cheeks, too. “How do you like Los Angeles?”

  “I haven’t seen much,” she said. “No time.”

  It would be hard to sightsee and make friends with the hours interns worked. No pay. No sleep. Zero respect. “If you’re ever lonely and want me to show you around town...”

  The offer escaped before he realized what he was saying.

  Her pursed full lips looked as if they’d been specially made for slow hot kisses. Maybe she would say yes. He wouldn’t mind a kiss. He was curious whether she tasted sweet or bitter.

  “Thanks,” she said. “But I’m not that lonely.”

  Most likely bitter.

  But her dismissive tone only piqued his interest. Chasing Megan could be interesting. Catching her, too. He winked. “At least not yet.”

  She stumbled.

  Adam grabbed hold of her, wrapping an arm around her waist, and the surfboard, to keep both from hitting the sand. Her body tensed beneath his hand. “Relax. I’ve got you.”

  She stiffened more. “I’m okay now.”

  Better than okay, actually. He expected the baggy clothes to be hiding a soft, lumpy body. But that didn’t seem to be the case. Megan Calhoun, intern, was full of surprises and much thinner and fitter than she looked. “Let go of the board.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Let go or I won’t let go of you.”

  Her hands released the board as if it were on fire.

  He liked her doing what he said. Playful images of the things he wanted to tell her to do to him ran through his mind. He could think of a few ways to put a big smile on her face. He wondered how her eyes expressed attraction, desire, passion.

  Megan accelerated her pace.