The Talk of Hollywood

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘Little, do you have any idea why my grandfather might be unavailable this evening?’

  The butler raised iron-grey brows. ‘I had no idea that Sir Geoffrey was unavailable …’

  She had known Little for more years than she cared to acknowledge, and had always found him to be quietly efficient and totally devoted to the comfort of both her grandmother and grandfather. Never, during all of those years, had Stazy ever doubted Little’s word.

  She doubted it now.

  There was something about Little’s tone—an evasiveness that caused a flutter of sickening unease in the depths of Stazy’s stomach. ‘Could you please ask Mrs Harris to delay dinner for fifteen minutes or so?’ she requested briskly. ‘I have several things I need to do before we go through to the dining room.’

  This time she was sure that she wasn’t imagining it when Little’s mouth tightened fractionally in disapproval. ‘Very well, Miss Stazy.’ He gave her a formal bow before leaving.

  But not, Stazy noted frowningly, before he had sent a slightly censorious glance in Jaxon’s direction!

  ‘Not a happy man,’ Jaxon murmured ruefully as he stood up.

  ‘No,’ Stazy agreed softly.

  She was obviously more than a little puzzled by this strange turn of events—to the point that Jaxon now felt slightly guilty for having voiced his concerns and causing Stazy’s present confusion. Maybe he should have just kept quiet about the arrival of the extra guards and his not being allowed to leave the grounds of Bromley House earlier? And the fact that Geoffrey had been unable to come to the telephone when he’d called. Whatever that obscure statement might mean.

  Jaxon certainly regretted the worry he could now see clouding Stazy’s troubled green eyes, and the slight pallor that had appeared in the delicacy of her cheeks. ‘I’m sure there’s no real need for concern, Stazy—’

  ‘You’re sure of no such thing, Jaxon, so please stop treating me as if I were a child,’ she dismissed. ‘Something is seriously wrong here, and I intend to find out exactly what it is!’

  After only two days of being in close proximity to Stazy he knew better than to argue with her. Or offer her comfort. He was only too well aware that she was a woman who liked to give the outward appearance of being in control of her emotions, at least.

  ‘And how do you intend to do that …?’ he prompted softly.

  ‘By telephoning my grandfather myself, of course.’ She moved to where her handbag lay on the floor beside one of the armchairs, taking her mobile from its depths before pressing the button for one of the speed dials. ‘I’ve never been unable to talk to my grandfather—Is that you, Glynis …?’ She frowned as the call was obviously answered not by Geoffrey, as she had hoped, but probably the same woman Jaxon had spoken to earlier. ‘Yes. Yes, it is. Where—? Oh. I see. Well, do you have any idea when he will be out of the meeting?’ She shot Jaxon a frowning glance.

  Jaxon gave her privacy for the call by strolling across the room to stand in front of one of the bay windows that looked over the long driveway. The same window, he realised, where Stazy had been standing six weeks ago, and again two days ago, as she had waited for him to arrive.

  He had certainly been aware of the existence of Geoffrey and Anastasia Bromley’s granddaughter before coming here, but he had in no way been prepared for Stazy’s physical resemblance to her grandmother. Since his return to Bromley House he had become aware that that resemblance was more than skin deep; Stazy had the same confidence and self-determination that his earlier research had shown Anastasia to have possessed in spades.

  It appeared that the only way in which the two women differed was emotionally.

  Not even that self-confidence and strong outer shell were able to hide Stazy’s inner emotional vulnerability. A vulnerability that for some reason brought forth every protective instinct in Jaxon’s body.

  That was pretty laughable when Stazy had made it clear on more than one memorable occasion that he was the last person she wanted to get close to her—emotionally or otherwise!

  He turned back into the room now, as he heard her ending the call.

  ‘Everything okay?’ he prompted lightly.

  She seemed preoccupied as she slipped her mobile back into her bag before straightening. ‘My grandfather is in a meeting,’ she explained unnecessarily; Jaxon had already ascertained that much from listening to the beginning of Stazy’s telephone conversation. ‘Glynis will get him to call me back as soon as he comes out.’

  ‘And Glynis is …?’

  The frown deepened between Stazy’s delicate brows. ‘She was his personal secretary until his retirement twenty-five years ago …’

  Considering the speed with which those guards had appeared outside Bromley House following the late-night telephone call that had taken Geoffrey up to London two days ago, Jaxon would be very surprised if Geoffrey had ever fully retired.

  He gave a shrug. ‘Then we may as well go and have dinner while we wait for him to return your call.’ He held his arm out to Stazy.

  Stazy didn’t move, more than a little unsettled by everything that had happened this evening. Those extra guards and her grandfather’s unavailability. Little’s careful evasion of her questions. Her own feelings of unease at Glynis’s claim that her grandfather couldn’t speak to her because he was in a meeting. Not once in the fifteen years since Stazy’s parents had died had her grandfather ever been too busy to talk to her on the telephone. And why would Glynis be answering Geoffrey’s personal mobile at all …?

  ‘It’s probably best if you try not to let your imagination run away with you, Stazy.’

  She drew herself up determinedly as she realised Jaxon had moved to stand in front of her—so close she could see the beginnings of that dark stubble returning to the squareness of his jaw, and each individual strand of dark hair on his chest revealed by the open neck of his black silk shirt. She could feel the heat of his body, smell the lemon shampoo he had used to wash his hair, and the sandalwood soap he had showered with, all overlaid with a purely male smell that she had come to know was uniquely Jaxon. A smell that always succeeded in making Stazy feel weak at the knees …!

  Unless that was just a result of the tensions of these past few minutes?

  Who was she trying to fool with these explanation? Herself or Jaxon? If it was herself then she was failing miserably; once again she found it difficult even to breathe properly with Jaxon standing this close to her. And if it was Jaxon she was trying to convince of her uninterest, then the simple act of accepting his arm to go through to the dining room would reveal just how much she was shaking just from his close proximity.

  She nodded abruptly as she chose to ignore that proffered arm. ‘I’ll just go and tell Little we’re ready to eat now—if you would like to go through to the dining room?’

  Another moment of vulnerability firmly squashed beneath that determined self-control, Jaxon thought ruefully as he gave a brief nod, before lowering his arm and following her from the drawing room. Except Jaxon didn’t consider it a vulnerability to acknowledge concern for someone you loved as much as Stazy obviously loved her grandfather.

  ‘Sir Geoffrey is on the telephone,’ Little informed them loftily as he came in to the dining room an hour and a half later to remove their dessert plates. ‘I took the liberty of transferring the call to his study.’

  Stazy stood up abruptly. ‘I’ll go through immediately—’

  ‘It was Mr Wilder that Sir Geoffrey asked to speak with.’ The butler straightened, his gaze fixed steadily on Jaxon rather than on Stazy.

  ‘Mr Wilder?’ she repeated dazedly. ‘You must be mistaken, Little—’

  ‘Not at all,’ the butler assured her mildly. ‘I believe you telephoned Sir Geoffrey earlier this evening, sir …?’

  Jaxon had to admire the other man’s stoicism in the face of Stazy’s obvious disbelief of his having correctly relayed the message from Geoffrey Bromley. At the same time he recognised that Stazy’s reaction was completely merit
ed; what possible reason could Geoffrey have for asking to speak to Jaxon rather than his own granddaughter? Whatever that reason was, Jaxon doubted it was anything good!

  ‘I did, yes,’ he acknowledged lightly as he placed his napkin on the table before standing up. ‘If you could just show me to Sir Geoffrey’s study …?’

  ‘Certainly, Mr Wilder.’

  ‘Jaxon!’

  His shoulders tensed as he turned slowly back to face an obviously less than happy Stazy. Justifiably so, in Jaxon’s estimation. Geoffrey had to know that his granddaughter wouldn’t just accept his asking to speak with Jaxon rather than her without comment.

  ‘I’m coming with you,’ she informed him determinedly.

  ‘I believe Sir Geoffrey wishes to speak with Mr Wilder alone,’ Little interjected—bravely, in Jaxon’s estimation.

  Stazy looked ready to verbally if not physically rip anyone who stood in the way of her talking with her grandfather to shreds. And at the moment Little was definitely attempting to do just that!

  Her eyes flashed deeply green as she turned to the butler. ‘Sir Geoffrey can wish all he likes, Little,’ she assured him firmly. ‘But I’m definitely accompanying Mr Wilder to the study! ‘

  Jaxon managed to stand back just in time as Stazy swept past him and out of the room. ‘I think that was a pretty predictable reaction, don’t you?’ he drawled ruefully to the watching butler. ‘And, on the positive side, at least I actually got to eat this time before she walked out on me!’ The food had been untouched when he had handed the picnic basket back to Little earlier.

  ‘There are times when it is almost possible to believe Lady Anastasia is back with us again …’ the other man murmured admiringly as he looked down the hallway at Stazy’s retreating and stiffly determined back.

  Jaxon nodded. ‘Perhaps you had better bring a decanter of brandy and a couple of glasses through to Sir Geoffrey’s study in about five minutes …?’

  ‘Certainly, sir.’ Little nodded smoothly.

  Jaxon strolled down the hallway to where he had seen Stazy enter what had to be Geoffrey Bromley’s study, sure that the next few minutes were going to be far from pleasant.

  ‘You heard your grandfather’s, Stazy,’ Jaxon reminded her gently. ‘He said there’s absolutely no reason for you to rush up to London just now.’

  Stazy was well aware of what her grandfather had said on the telephone, once she had managed to wrest the receiver out of Jaxon’s hand and talked to her grandfather herself. Just as she was aware that she had no intention of taking any notice of her grandfather’s instruction for her to wait to hear from him again before taking any further action.

  Mainly because her grandfather’s telephone call had revealed that he had rushed up to London two days ago, and security here had been increased, because he and some members of one of his previous security teams had been receiving threats. That threat had somehow escalated in the past twenty-four hours, and now her grandfather expected—instructed—that she just calmly sit here at Bromley House and await further news!

  No way. Absolutely no way was Stazy going to just sit here waiting to see if someone succeeded in attacking her grandfather.

  She turned to look at Little as he quietly entered the study with a silver tray containing a decanter of brandy and two glasses. ‘I suppose you already knew what was going on before we spoke to my grandfather?’

  ‘Stazy,’ Jaxon reproved softly from where he sat in the chair facing her grandfather’s desk.

  ‘I’m sorry, Little.’ Stazy sighed. ‘Did you happen to know about these threats to my grandfather?’ she asked, less challengingly but just as determinedly, as she watched the butler carefully and precisely place the decanter and glasses on the desktop.

  Again Jaxon was sure that he hadn’t imagined the butler’s reaction—a slight but nevertheless revealing tic in his cheek—before the other man covered his emotion with his usual noncommittal expression as he answered Stazy. ‘I believe the increased security measures here are only a precaution, Miss Stazy.’

  ‘I’m not concerned about myself—’

  ‘That will be all, thank you, Little.’ Jaxon gave the older man a reassuring smile as he stood up to cross the room and usher the butler out into the hallway before closing the door firmly behind him. ‘Taking out your worry concerning your grandfather on one of the people who works for him isn’t going to make you feel any better, Stazy.’ He spoke mildly as he moved to the front of the desk to pour brandy into the two glasses.

  ‘Is it too much to expect you to understand how worried I feel?’ A nerve pulsed in her tightly clenched jaw, and her cheeks were once again pale, her eyes suspiciously over-bright.

  With anger or tears, Jaxon wasn’t sure.

  He straightened slowly to hand her one of the glasses of deep amber liquid. ‘No, of course it isn’t. I just don’t believe insulting Little or me is going to help the situation.’

  ‘Then what is?’ She threw the contents of the glass to the back of her throat before moving to refill it.

  Jaxon winced. ‘Expensive brandies like this one are meant to be breathed in, sipped and then savoured—not thrown down like a pint of unimpressive warm beer!’

  ‘I know that.’ She picked up the second glass and took a healthy swallow of the contents of that one too, before slamming it back down on the desk to look up challengingly at Jaxon.

  ‘Stazy, I really wouldn’t advise you pushing this situation to a point where I have to use extreme measures in order to calm you down,’ Jaxon said softly as he saw the reckless glint in her eyes had deepened.

  ‘Such as what?’ she prompted warily. ‘Are you going to put me over your knee and spank me for being naughty? Or will just slapping me on the cheek suffice?’

  He shrugged. ‘I’m not about to slap you anywhere—but the first suggestion has a certain merit at this moment!’ Ordinarily Jaxon wouldn’t dream of using physical force of any kind on a woman. But this situation was far from ordinary. Stazy was way out of her normally controlled zone. Almost to the point of hysteria. Rightly so, of course, when her grandfather was all the family she had left in the world.

  In these unusual circumstances Jaxon didn’t at all mind being used as Stazy’s verbal punchbag, but he knew her well enough to know that she would be mortified at her treatment of the obviously devoted Little once she had calmed down enough to recognise how she had spoken to him just now—out of love and worry for her grandfather or otherwise.

  The uncharacteristic tears glistening in those eyes were his undoing. ‘Oh, Stazy …!’ he groaned, even as he took her gently into his arms. ‘It’s going to be okay—you’ll see.’

  ‘You don’t really know that,’ she murmured against his chest as she choked back those tears.

  ‘No, I don’t,’ Jaxon answered honestly. ‘But what I do know is that Geoffrey is a man who knows exactly what he’s doing. If he says this problem is going to be handled, then I have no doubt that it will be. And, as you know him much better than I do, you shouldn’t either,’ he encouraged softly as he ran comforting hands up and down the length of her back.

  ‘You’re right. I know you are.’ She nodded against him. ‘I just—I can’t help feeling worried.’

  ‘I know that.’ Jaxon’s arms tightened about her as the softness of her body rested against the length of his. ‘And so does Geoffrey. Which is why he asked me to take care of you.’

  She raised her head to look at him, her smile still tearful. ‘And this is you taking care of me …?’

  ‘I could possibly do a better job of it if I thought you wouldn’t object …?’

  Stazy groaned low in her throat as Jaxon slowly lowered his head and slanted his mouth lightly against hers, her body instantly relaxing into his and her fingers becoming entangled in his hair as her lips parted to deepen that kiss.

  It felt as if Stazy had been waiting for this to happen since the last time Jaxon had kissed her. Waiting and longing for it. Instantly she became lost to the pleasure
of those exploring lips and the caress of Jaxon’s hands as they roamed her back before cupping her bottom and pulling her into him.

  She was achingly aware of every inch of the lean length of Jaxon’s body against hers—his chest hard and unyielding against the fullness of her breasts, the hardness of his erection caught between her stomach and thighs, living evidence of his own rapidly escalating arousal.

  Stazy gave another groan as Jaxon’s hands tightened about her bottom and he lifted her up and placed her on the edge of the desk. His knees nudged her legs apart, pushing her dress up to her thighs as he stepped between them, and she felt the heat of his erection against the lace of her panties. That groan turned into a low moan of heated pleasure as he pressed into her, applying just the right amount of pressure.

  Her neck arched and her fingers clung to the broad width of Jaxon’s shoulders when his lips left hers to kiss across her cheek before travelling the length of her throat—kissing, gently biting, as he tasted her creamy skin before his tongue plundered and rasped the sensitive hollows at the base of her neck.

  Her back arched as Jaxon’s hand moved to cup beneath one of her breasts. The soft material of her dress was no barrier to the pleasure that coursed through her hotly as his thumb moved lightly across the roused and aching nipple, and she was only vaguely aware of it when his other hand slowly lowered the zip of her dress down the length of her spine before his hand touched the naked flesh beneath, revealing that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

  Jaxon heard the voice in his head telling him to stop this now. Offering Stazy comfort was one thing—what he wanted was something else entirely. He heard that voice and ignored it—had no choice but to ignore it when he could feel how Stazy’s pleasure more than matched his own.

  He reached up to ease the dress down her arms, baring her to the waist before he moved his hands to cup beneath the swell of her breasts. Such full and heavy breasts, when the rest of her body was so slender. Full and heavy breasts that Jaxon wanted in his mouth as he tasted and pleasured her.