by Jamie Wesley
Alex was confident in his proposal. He’d been rehearsing it for months.
Mansfield didn’t interrupt, his face giving nothing away. When Alex finished, Mansfield leaned back in his chair, his eyes, the intelligence in them clear, assessing Alex.
Don’t look away. Relax.
“That’s all you’ve got? Let’s order.” Mansfield’s tone was so dismissive Alex was surprised he didn’t outright sniff his disdain.
He waited for Mansfield to offer more feedback, but he didn’t. Shit. He hadn’t expected gushing, although he would’ve been thrilled to receive it. He had expected more than a one-sentence response. But, as he’d learned in the preceding months, the old man was tough and didn’t believe in making things easy. Panicking would get him nowhere. Showing his unease would be fatal to Crescendo’s chances. Still, he reached for his glass of water, needing to coat a throat that had gone bone dry. Why hadn’t Mansfield responded to his facts and figures? They were solid. More than.
While Mansfield motioned for the waiter, Alex’s eyes flicked to Fliss. Although her lips curled upward, worry shone in her eyes. “Let me try,” she mouthed.
Alex froze, his instincts screaming no. He wanted to be the one to convince Mansfield. Prove that he could secure the deal through his own merits. It was bad enough that this meeting wouldn’t have happened without her.
Man up, Alex.
He carefully set his glass down and took a calming breath. He’d obviously fallen flat on his face. He wasn’t sure letting Fliss take the lead would work, but what did he have to lose at this point? Securing the deal was the most important outcome of this meeting, not boosting his ego. Besides, she did have a personal relationship with Mansfield. Maybe she could get through to him. He nodded once.
He watched her put on her most charming smile. “Phillip, why don’t you tell us what you’re hoping to get out of this project? Why have you been so hesitant to pick a production company to work with?”
“I want the best for my wife,” he answered with no hesitation. “She deserves that. I loved Farrah. She was a complicated woman, but never have I felt more loved than when I was with her. I hope she felt the same way about me.”
Fliss’s smile broadened. “What a lovely thing to say. She was a lucky woman.”
“Trust me, I was the lucky one.” His lips curved into a slight smile. “Even if I never understood her obsession with fashion. So many clothes. She never had any hope of wearing them all.”
She laughed. “Well, you’re a man. Trust me, you can never have enough clothes. I was in awe of her style.”
“You’re familiar with her style? Her heyday was well before your time.”
“Of course I am. Who isn’t? Fashion has no time constraints, especially when the person has a classic, elegant style with just a hint of flash to make it her own, like Farrah did. Her influence extended well beyond music.”
Mansfield’s grin now stretched from ear to ear. “It did, didn’t it?”
“Yes,” she answered, nodding. “She was a style icon for the ages. But really there was so much more to her than a glam queen or even a music superstar.”
When her eyes cut to him, Alex leaned forward, ready to bring the win home. “Fliss is absolutely right. We plan to explore all facets of her personality and influence.”
Mansfield’s eyebrows rose. “Her personality and influence? Where did you get your info from?”
“I read every article and watched every interview and performance I could get my hands on. But that’s where you come in. You knew her best—what her favorite songs were, what made her tick, what she said and did to get through the tough times. We need your help to tell her story the right way.”
“Phillip, you should’ve seen him when he was telling me about the project for the first time,” Fliss said, her voice rising in excitement, her hands whirling. “He was so passionate I knew I had to get involved. You couldn’t find anyone more dedicated to or excited about telling Farrah’s story. When he showed me the script, I was blown away. He wrote it. The details, the subtlety, the powerful message. It’s fabulous. Alex will do an amazing job with the film.”
Alex stared at her. He’d had no idea that she’d loved the script or believed in his abilities that much. Had anyone ever believed in him like that? It felt nice. Amazing, if he wanted to be perfectly honest. He wasn’t sure he believed in his skills as much as she seemed to. He was always too busy thinking his best was never good enough and striving to improve.
Mansfield nodded. “I see. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
His tone was neutral, but neutrality sounded a lot better than the barely disguised disgust Alex had received earlier.
Still, the victory, as tenuous as it was, didn’t fill him with as much happiness as he would have liked. He refused to lie to himself. Yes, Fliss’s praise made him feel good, and Mansfield seemed receptive to her overtures, but he couldn’t shake the notion that he’d failed. That he still wasn’t good enough to succeed on his own. She’d known Mansfield would respond to a more personal, folksy approach, which Alex had dismissed because he was more comfortable with facts and order, not emotion. But she’d been right.
Would he ever get it right?
Alex took another swallow of water, the ice-cold liquid prickling his throat.
Yes, he would get it right. Failure wasn’t an option. In any case, at the moment, it didn’t matter. He was smart enough to sit back and let Fliss work her magic. A few minutes later, Alex looked up to find Mansfield intently eyeing him.
“How long have you two known each other?” the producer asked.
“About three years,” Alex said.
“You two seem to work well together.”
“We’re trying,” Fliss said.
Alex chuckled at her dry tone. “Indeed.”
She met his gaze. An electric spark arced between them. His skin prickled with desire.
A throat clearing broke the spell. Alex swiveled his head toward Mansfield, who studied him with narrowed eyes.
“My wife was my best friend. She often knew what I was thinking before I did,” the music mogul said.
“As most women do,” Fliss replied.
They all laughed. The conversation turned to less serious matters, including the music Mansfield was currently working on. The older man noticeably warmed to Alex and stopped looking at him like he was a scam artist out to sell his wife’s good name to the highest tabloid bidder. Nonetheless, at the end of the meal, he didn’t give Alex the answer he wanted. “It was nice meeting you,” Mansfield said, offering his hand. “I liked some of the things you had to say, but I have a few others to meet with.”
Alex shook his hand and schooled his face to mask his disappointment. “Of course, but please know that we’re prepared to do whatever it takes to secure the rights and produce this movie.”
Mansfield eyed him. “Then I suggest you get to it. I haven’t made any decisions yet.”
Alex nodded. He’d take it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“That went well,” Alex said, his voice full of frustrated sarcasm, as he and Fliss waved off Phillip in his limo.
They moved aside as gawking patrons, probably tourists, passed them on their way into the restaurant.
Fliss squeezed his arm, the first time she’d touched him since their ill-fated encounter last night. A shock of awareness shot through her body at the contact. She dropped her hand to her side. Argh. Why wouldn’t her body get in sync with her brain? So what if they’d had a moment in the restaurant? Time to remind herself yet again that chemistry meant nothing. Chemistry always burned itself out. Always. Look at her parents. Look at her marriage.
Alex let out an irritated sigh, bringing her back to the present and what was important.
“Hey, he didn’t say no,” she said.
“He almost did.”
Snap! Snap!
Fliss flinched and turned away from the incessant camera clicks, which had only gotten louder sin
ce they’d arrived at the restaurant. No doubt word had spread in paparazzi-land that she was having dinner at The Ivy and they’d all scurried over to get photos of her newly single self.
Prior to the meeting, she’d been concerned about how she would handle their presence and intrusive questions, but when she’d arrived, it had dawned on her that although she was divorced, not much else had changed, least of all her normal reaction to the paparazzi. Annoyance.
What could they possibly find interesting about her standing on a street corner? Hadn’t they exacted their pound of flesh yet? When the photos had emerged of her ex-husband kissing his co-star after she’d caught them in bed together, she’d been devastated. The celebrity gossip bloggers and reporters, on the other hand, had pounced, granting interviews to any woman claiming to have slept with Keith.
She understood that they were doing their job, but their eagerness to unearth dirt still grated. Dirt got web hits, and they didn’t care who got hurt in the process. In order to maintain some dignity and not play into their hands, she’d had to maintain a sunny disposition or else the already intense speculation and attention would ramp up another ten degrees. So she’d smiled even as her world had been collapsing around her. She’d refused to let them get the best of her then. She wasn’t going to let them win now.
Ignoring the shouted questions and camera clicks, she moved closer to the curb as the valet came around the corner in Alex’s Range Rover. The driver hopped out, accepted the tip from Alex, and walked around to open the passenger-side door. “Thanks for dining with us, Ms. Chambers.”
She climbed in. “Thank you,” she said, and with a wink, the valet shut the door behind her.
Alex got in and eased the car out into the street. “What am I going to do now? I have to figure something out quick.” He shifted in the leather seat like he was trying to harness the restless energy flowing through him.
“We have to figure out something,” she said. “Don’t sound so down. We haven’t lost yet. We have to find another way, that’s all.”
“You’re right, but to be so close and not close the deal is killing me.”
“I know, but we can’t give up. You’re too stubborn to give up.”
He shot her a quick grin. “Damn straight.”
His confident look eased her own doubts. “I’m so positive he’ll pick us that I’m willing to put some money on the line.”
“Yeah? How much?”
“Ten bucks.”
She expected him to laugh at the paltry amount. Instead, he said, “Yeah,” in a distracted tone of voice, his gaze fixed on the rearview mirror. The SUV picked up speed.
Fliss frowned. “Alex, what’s going on?”
“I think a couple of cars are following us.”
She looked behind her but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, just the regular, congested evening traffic. But Alex wasn’t one to sound false alarms.
He shifted the car to the lane to his left. A beat-up white sedan dodged around the car in front of it to stay behind them. She turned and glanced out the passenger-side window. The man in the car next to her was leering at her. His window rolled down, and a long-lens camera poked out of the opening. Ugh. A photographer. Why wasn’t he satisfied with the shots he’d gotten at the restaurant?
She made a sound of disgust. Because he’d been surrounded by other paparazzi all getting the same shots. His photos weren’t special enough. Or he wanted to know why she and Alex, the co-owners of Crescendo, were having dinner with Phillip.
Or maybe the photographer suspected something more was going on between them. Who knew? At least the SUV’s tinted windows allowed for a measure of privacy. A prolonged, strident honk caused her to jerk her head around in time to see the driver behind them shoot between two other cars to crowd in on Alex’s side. He ignored the white markings on the pavement and swerved into their lane, barely missing the Range Rover. A black truck sped up directly behind them. If Alex slammed on his brakes, the truck would undoubtedly plow into them.
“Jackasses. Don’t they realize they’re putting everyone in danger?” Alex muttered through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to go any faster, but they’re not giving me much of a choice.”
No, they weren’t. Damn vultures. Fear pulsing through her veins, Fliss clutched her seat belt with a trembling hand and endeavored to ignore the guy next to her, who had also crept in too close. The situation might be exciting if they were on a set shooting one of Alex’s action movies, but they weren’t. They were on a city street with a posted speed limit of twenty-five. She didn’t look at the speedometer. No need. They were well above the limit. She dug into her purse with her free hand and pulled out her phone. “I’m going to call the police.”
“We don’t have time to wait until the cops get here. They’re getting more reckless.”
With wide eyes, she took in the scene. Chaos reigned. They were surrounded on three sides by cars crowding in on them. Other drivers honked their horns and swarmed out of the way.
“Ah!” Fliss slapped a hand across her mouth when the sedan next to her almost rear-ended the car in front of it because the driver was snapping photos instead of paying attention to the road. The paparazzo slammed on his brakes, the prolonged screech of the tires assaulting her ears. Through it all, the driver continued to hang his camera out the window taking photos, unconcerned that he’d nearly caused an accident.
“That’s it.” Alex gripped the steering wheel so hard she was surprised the wheel didn’t snap off. He checked the rearview mirror and jerked the wheel to the right, squeezing in front of the photographer. She pitched forward and sent a silent thanks for her seat belt when it yanked her back against the seat.
Alex’s sudden right turn down a side street surprised their chasers. They lost the two cars on either side of them, but the one behind them stayed on their tail. The driver tapped the SUV’s bumper, forcing Alex to speed up and swerve around the car in front of him.
“You okay?” he asked. His face and voice radiated calm. Only the skin stretched tight across his knuckles gave away his anger.
“Yeah,” she managed to get out, although she could barely hear herself over her pulse pounding in her ears.
“Hold on.” Alex yanked the steering wheel to the left, maneuvering in between two cars and then continuing to the next lane, thankfully unoccupied. He pressed his foot on the gas and gunned for the light ahead, which had turned yellow.
Fliss squeezed her eyes shut. “Please, please, God.”
When she dared to open her eyes, they were on the other side of the light, still in one piece. They hadn’t hit anyone or been hit. She looked behind her. The photographer was stuck at the red light. Thank God. She slammed a hand over her racing heart. Her shoulders collapsing in relief, she turned toward Alex.
Although they’d lost their entourage, he didn’t seem to notice. Fury rolled off him in waves. His breaths came fast and furious. She wouldn’t have been surprised if the windshield shattered under the heat of his glare. He zoomed down the mostly empty street, his foot pressed firmly on the gas. Not as fast as before but definitely above the speed limit. She had no idea where he was going. She didn’t think he did, either.
She’d never seen him this upset. Not even when they argued. Still, she had to reach him before he got in an accident. “Alex?”
He didn’t respond. Or slow down.
“Alex,” she said more forcefully.
He stared straight ahead, his mouth drawn in a tight, straight line, a deep vee bisecting his forehead. Her heartbeat, which had started to return to its normal rate, quickened again.
“Alex!”
Finally, he glanced her way. “What?” A scowl accompanied the question.
“You’ve got to slow down.”
The worry and fear in her voice must have registered because he blinked like he was coming out of a trance. His eyes shot to the speedometer. “Damn.”
The car slowed down, and he steered it to the curb. He turned the
engine off, the quiet that followed jarring in its intensity. Fliss glanced out the window. They’d stopped in a residential neighborhood. A nice one with manicured lawns and expensive cars in the driveways. Quiet ruled the night. No children played outside. Too late for that. She turned her attention to Alex. “Talk to me.”
He stared out the driver’s-side window. He didn’t speak.
Unacceptable. His anger would only fester if ignored. “Talk to me, Alex.”
He moved so fast, she didn’t have time to react. He yanked her toward him and slammed his mouth over hers. His tongue swept inside her mouth, daring her to stop him. She couldn’t. She didn’t want to. His masterful lips didn’t coax. They demanded. She did everything in her power to answer, twining her tongue with his. As the kiss deepened into something hot and wild and wholly necessary for her well-being, she cursed the console and seat belts that separated them. She wanted to climb over the barrier into his lap and press her body against his hard torso. But she was nothing if not resourceful. Desire threatening to overwhelm her, she clutched his hard shoulder with one hand while the other gripped the front of his shirt.
He gentled his kiss, nipping at her bottom lip, then soothing the spot with his tongue. She moaned her pleasure, and the kiss built up speed again. The hunger inside her, too. God, how much she wanted him.
Just as quickly as he’d grabbed her, Alex released her. She fell back against her seat and stared at him with wide eyes.
His chest heaving, his breaths came out as hard and fast as hers were. He gulped in air, then spoke. “Do you know what happened tonight?”
Her brain was so scrambled, all she could think to say was, “You…kissed me?”
He didn’t crack a smile. “I was talking about earlier. You had Mansfield eating out of the palm of your hand. You were in your element. He would’ve turned my ass down with no hesitation if you hadn’t been there.”
“Thanks.” The compliment sent a thrill through her. He was starting to realize she could be a true asset to Crescendo. She hoped he’d leave it at that, but she knew her wish wouldn’t be granted.