by King, Thayer
“And what do you plan to do about it?”
“Nothing. He can’t be serious. This will be old news in a week or two.”
Marielle’s sigh was loud in her ear. “I certainly hope so. Any idea why he’s chosen to focus on you?”
A possible answer came to mind, but it wasn’t one she wanted to dwell on. It would explain her dreams and Sean’s fixation on her, but the idea of it terrified her. Sure her life wasn’t perfect. She was lonely much of the time, but this was the existence she had to live with. It was better than the alternative. “No. There is no reason,” she said in response to Marielle’s question. “I’m sure he’ll grow bored with this nonsense.”
****
“You’re pure evil,” Keith said with a grin and a shake of his head. He folded the newspaper ad and dropped it on the coffee table. Sean’s smiling face stared up at them from the ad he’d placed imploring his and Mystique’s fans to write to her to reconsider working with him. It was his hope that she’d be flooded with requests.
“I know,” Sean returned with a smile of his own. “I placed this in five magazines and seven papers.”
“Why are you torturing the girl so?”
“At first, it was accidental. When I said that I wanted to work with her, I truly meant it. I had no ulterior motives. When it became obvious that she was avoiding me, the media picked up on it. Then I met her.” Sean’s eyes met those of his brother. Their eyes were the same remarkable shade of bright blue. “She was terrified of me. It piqued my curiosity. And I admit I’m perversely turned on by a woman who doesn’t fall at my feet.”
His brother stiffened. “Terrified? You don’t think she knows—”
“Of course not,” he interrupted before his brother could go off on one of his paranoid lectures about how he should be more careful. Keith was visiting him for a week. Sean would rather not rehash the old argument with his brother about how he wasn’t dedicated to their craft. “How could she? Look, maybe terrified was the wrong word. She could have been startled. After all, we did meet in the ladies’ bathroom.”
“I’m sure I don’t want to know why.” He ran his hand through his thick curls. “Listen, don’t you have enough women?”
“Yeah, but they’re not this one.” Mystique was as beautiful in person as she was on film. There was a small mole to the left of her mouth that he longed to kiss right before he possessed her lush lips. Her smooth skin held a healthy sheen that reminded him strangely of butter. Mm, butter. No wonder he wanted to lick her from head to toe. He loved butter.
She was as mysterious and captivating as her name. He wondered if it was the one she was born with or if she had changed it like so many in their profession. Prior to the restaurant incident, he’d been certain that when they met, she’d be eager to work with him. Instead, their unplanned collision had left him with more questions than answers. Lately, she was all he could think about. He hadn’t had a serious relationship in six months. There had been a few flings and a one night stand or two but no one to distract him from Mystique. He wanted to work with her. Hell, he admitted to himself, he just plain wanted her.
“She seems like a nice girl, Sean.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That means she’s not one of your usual actresses or models who are with you to be seen with you. She’s not interested in dating you to advance her career. She’ll care when you stop calling or move on to your next movie. She’ll get hurt.”
He knew that. And it had given him pause. But Mystique was quickly becoming an obsession with him. She filled his dreams at night. The dreams were erotic and so detailed that he often woke to find his belly wet with his semen. Yet his cock remained as hard as steel, eager to be buried in Mystique’s pussy. His affairs had become less and less satisfactory. They were no longer worth the effort. He drummed his fingers on the arm of his leather sofa. “I’ll be careful.”
Chapter Three
Three Weeks Later …
Mystique hadn’t been lying when she said she wasn’t seeking projects at the moment. The last three weeks she’d been immersed in the role of a mermaid in an out to sea romantic comedy. All of her scenes were shot on location in Australia, the director’s homeland. Though she was portraying an ocean creature, all of her work had been done indoors on a set where they’d recreated the water and waves.
Marielle had arranged for a limo to meet her at the airport. She couldn’t wait to get back home and put her feet up for a few days’ rest. After that, she was off to do a guest appearance on a cable TV show for a friend. She arrived at her Beverly Hills condo and was stunned to find three large bags of fan mail next to her door. Marielle had called her and told her that there had been an uptick in her mail as the result of some ads Sean had run. He’d also started a website featuring a petition. His campaign was unrelenting despite the lack of response from her.
She sighed and dragged the mail into her foyer along with her luggage. There was a note pinned to the side of one of the bags. She recognized Marielle’s neat script. “This is three days’ worth,” she read. Her eyes widened. The bags came up to her waist. “This is ridiculous!” Time on location had given her a much needed reprieve from speculation of the public. The set had been closed to all press and she wasn’t one to read gossip magazines or watch entertainment shows. What the hell had Sean done to incite this type of activity in her fans? She was almost afraid to read the letters.
She hadn’t started acting to become famous. It was what she enjoyed and she was good at it. Celebrity was a byproduct as far as she was concerned. It had its perks, but she wasn’t so well known that it had ever been a burden for her. Having Marielle as her agent and manager was only possible because of her friendship with the older woman. She trusted her. She had an uncanny knack for identifying trustworthy individuals. Having one person serve two capacities helped her feel more normal. She didn’t have, nor did she desire, an entourage. She’d hired an accountant at Marielle’s insistence. Coming home to find the lights out once was enough to convince her that her friend was right in that regard. Recently, Marielle had been urging her to hire a personal assistant, but she didn’t see the need.
Until now. It’d be nice to have someone to help sort this mail. She liked to occasionally send replies, but there was no way she was going to be able do it with this much correspondence.
She stifled a yawn and decided to put it off until tomorrow. She’d take a shower and go to bed. In the morning after she’d had an espresso, it wouldn’t seem so bad.
****
It was bad. Very bad. She had a few fans that were supportive of her not working with Sean. But she also received letters and postcards from Sean’s fans who threatened to boycott her films if she didn’t star opposite him. She didn’t read all of the mail. She didn’t have to. After about the hundredth or so missive, she got the message.
Sean had achieved his goal. He might be known as the playboy, but if this continued much longer, she would be known as a judgmental bitch. A moniker sure to kill her burgeoning career.
She didn’t like being backed into a corner this way. “Damn, Sean Savage,” she muttered even as she picked up the phone to call Marielle. She’d give her agent permission to accept scripts from Sean again. She didn’t have any. All of hers had gone straight into the trash.
Chapter Four
Mystique flew to New York and returned. While there, she did an interview for a television entertainment magazine about her guest appearance on her friend’s show Strange and True. It didn’t take long for the questions to turn the status of her spat with Sean Savage. She even had paparazzi following her for much of the trip. It gave her the unwelcome feeling of being hunted. Her first night in the city she had gone out with her friend Sharon Smythe to dinner and a club. But the club had quickly become a crush. Neither she nor Sharon had bodyguards so there was no one to keep reporters from snapping pictures of her or hounding her with questions. The bright flashes of light in an otherwise dark room w
ere disorienting. Her polite answers to their queries were met with sneers and contempt. They didn’t believe her and were not afraid to call her a liar and worse. After that experience, she had left her hotel room only for filming.
She’d hoped to have the situation with Sean ironed out while she was away. One conversation with Marielle dashed those hopes. Sean’s newest demand was a private meeting with just the two of them. He didn’t want to do this through their agents or managers. What choice did she have but to give in? A quick web search for her name was beginning to bring up more vitriol than she would have expected. Also, Marielle had noticed a sharp decline in the number of scripts being sent her way.
She had Marielle schedule a lunch meeting. He wanted to meet for dinner, but Mystique refused to budge on that point. She didn’t want to be seen with him at all. Lunch seemed the most innocuous.
He chose the restaurant, an intimate Italian spot with soft lighting. Even in the day, the darkened interior gave the impression that it was night. She gave her name to the maître d’ and was immediately escorted to a table in a secluded corner.
Sean, devastating as ever in a black tailored suit, stood to greet her. His sexy grin mocked her. “Thanks for agreeing to meet me here.”
With a stiff nod, she took the seat he held out for her. His thumbs brushed the tops of her shoulders in a casual caress. Mystique suppressed a shiver. “So where’s this script you wanted me to see?”
He made a tsking sound. “No pleasantries? And here I thought you were going to be all Southern charm.”
“I save the charm for when it’s warranted.”
His eyes glittered dangerously. “It’s warranted,” he said gravely, handing her the script.
A waiter came to take their orders. Mystique ordered a caramel macchiato. Her stomach was tied in knots. No way could she eat anything in his presence. Sean arched a brow but didn’t say anything. He ordered pasta. His food and her coffee delivered quickly. While he ate, Mystique used the time to flip through the script. She took a deep breath, hoping he couldn’t sense her unease at being alone with him even in a public place. He was finally getting what he wanted, the big bully. She hoped he would be gracious and just leave her alone now. She glanced up at Sean. “I need more time to study this. I’ll get back to you.”
He grinned. “Be sure that you do. I’m really interested in hearing your opinion. My personal cell number is written on the first page.”
She finished her coffee. “I should go.” She stood. “I’ll call.”
“Mystique, I’d like to hear from you. Not your agent.”
His gaze was intense. She cleared her throat and stared a point over his shoulder. “I’ll call,” she repeated.
****
Mystique frowned as she finished Sean’s script. Not because his writing was bad. The script was actually quite superb. She’d been up half the night reading it and had picked it up first thing in the morning. It wasn’t an action film like so many of his recent works but a romantic comedy.
It was as yet untitled. She stared blankly into her almond amaretto coffee as she contemplated the ramifications.
There were only three significant parts for women in the script. One was his sister. Though she was pale enough that people often guessed at her biracial heritage, she wasn’t going to pass as a full-blooded sibling. The other two parts were his lovers. She bit her lip. She doubted he wanted her to play the part of the female bartender or the receptionist as the characters would have a scene time of maybe two minutes. He wouldn’t have badgered her so long over such a small part. So that left his lovers. She couldn’t bear the thought of his hands on her. An image from last night’s dream surfaced. Sean’s hands parting her thighs and then continuing upward… She squashed the memory with ruthless determination.
The ex-girlfriend role had the least amount of contact with him. She would have to kiss him but it involved far less interaction with his character than the part of his current love interest. She would have to make do.
With shaky fingers, she dialed his cell. He picked up on the first ring. “Hello?” She shivered and held her breath as his deep voice washed over her. Damn it, no man deserved to be that sexy.
“This is Mystique.”
“Thanks for getting back to me so quickly. What did you think?”
She was reluctant to compliment him on his work. He was already so full of himself. The truth was that if it were anyone else, she’d be eager to have a part in this movie. “It doesn’t matter what I think, does it? I’d like to read for the role of the Daphne.”
There was a long pause on his side. “I want you to be Zoe. And you don’t have to audition. The part is yours.”
“The casting director—”
“The casting director is Cathy Fullerton and she’s been made aware that you are starring in this film. I not only wrote the script, but I’m also one of the producers.”
“I don’t know if I have the time to commit to being Zoe.”
There was an uncomfortable silence. “Is Mystique your real name?”
“Yes.”
“Mystique, I really want to work with you. All the bullshit aside, you’re really talented and it would be an honor to have you in a film as my co-star.”
She closed her eyes. He sounded so reasonable. It was dangerous to accept even the smaller part of Daphne. To portray Zoe would take months. Months of working closely with Sean. Despite what she knew to be true about him, she was attracted to him. She was still having the dreams. She’d dated actors before and found them to be self-absorbed and inconsiderate. With Sean, there would also be the added public attention. They’d get one of those annoying ubiquitous monikers like Bennifer.
What was she thinking? Sean wasn’t interested in dating her. She may not have been the sort that read gossip magazines, but Sean’s romantic liaisons were chronicled all over the place. This year alone, he’d dated two swimsuit models and a model turned actress who had starred in a movie with him last year. Instinct told her that the attraction was mutual. She could see it in his eyes, but that didn’t mean he wanted to act on it.
She wet her lips. “Let me think about it. You might change your mind after a screen test.”
“Trust me, Mystique, the chemistry between us is too volatile for you to play my ex.”
Her sex clenched. Damn him! No man had ever had this effect on her.
His husky laugh sounded tortured. “Don’t tell me I’m the only one who feels it?”
She swallowed and refused to answer. “Have someone call Marielle to schedule the screen test.” She disconnected before he could say anymore. Dear God, how was she supposed to work with him?
****
Mystique was dismayed to find that Sean had decided to be present for her screen test. Not only that, but he wanted to read with her. As she played out the scene with him, she couldn’t deny that he could act. She paused when the script called for them to kiss. He leaned in, a predatory smile on his lips. She stepped back. “Isn’t that enough?”
“You’re going to have to do it sometime. Might as well be now. You say you want to be Daphne. If we’re burning up the screen, I can’t have you playing my ex. It’ll ruin all verisimilitude.”
She looked to the director, Steven Reed, a short balding man. He was the most laid back director she had ever seen. He seemed to be more interested in his nails than anything the two of them were doing. Cathy, the casting director, was on her cell.
Sean grinned, one eyebrow arched. “Is it really such an awful task?”
“Let’s just get it over with.” Still, she braced herself and barely kept from flinching as his lips brushed hers. She shivered as he came back for more. He kissed her again and again with more pressure each time. His arms came up around her, pulling her closer and forcing her head back. Her lips opened and his tongue swept in for a taste. The teasing sensation of his tongue sliding over her lips and into the cavern of her mouth had her knees weakening and her pussy pulsing. He moaned low in his th
roat. She whimpered and tore herself out of his embrace.
She placed trembling fingers to her lips while Sean stared at her, his pupils huge in his blue eyes. Hunger was apparent in his gaze as he watched her. She took a shaky step backward and looked to their audience. Steven and Cathy were watching them in stunned silence.
“So,” Sean said, his voice husky, “You’ll be my Zoe.”
She didn’t trust herself to speak. She left the audition area, retrieved her purse from the chair where she’d placed it, and simply fled the building for her car. Sean followed her, calling her name. Ignoring him, she didn’t stop until she had her key in the ignition. She dropped her head onto the steering wheel of her Audi Q7.
The passenger door opened and Sean dropped into the seat. He licked his lips. “Well, that’s a pretty strong reaction to my kiss. And I wasn’t even trying that hard.”
She glared at him. “Don’t you ever stick your tongue in my mouth again!”
“Where would you like me to stick it?”
She slapped him, stunning both of them. “I’m sorry.”
He sighed. “No, I’m sorry. I was out of line—in both instances. The minute my lips touched yours…I lost control. I wasn’t expecting that. Look, now that I know what to expect, it won’t happen again. Please, say you’ll play Zoe.”
He’d given her little choice. She didn’t want him campaigning once more. The sooner this was over, the better. “Yes. Now get out of my car.”
“If all goes well, shooting will begin in six weeks.” He opened his door and grinned at her, his eyes flicking over her. “I can’t wait.”
“Why so soon?”
“Interest in a film starring the two of us is at its peak right now. So clear your calendar.”