"I envision a life behind the cameras that would take you well into your sixties," he told her with a smile. "You have the kind of presence that will always be in demand."
She cast him a surprised look. Samuel Copeland was not one to dish out compliments at the drop of a hat.
"Speaking as a producer or my husband?"
"Both. The first time you stepped before the camera and started speaking, I was captivated."
Her tapered brows shot up. "That's a lie. You were horrible to me," she recalled. "I hated you then and wanted to tell you to go to hell."
He simply grinned. "I'm horrible to everyone, especially the ones with the most talent. And besides, I was trying to fight this confounding attraction I was feeling. I saw you at that party and could not take my eyes off you, but I was certainly not going to compete with the rest of the men drooling in your presence. I was above that sort of thing."
"Instead, you made my life a living hell for two weeks."
"My way of fighting you."
"I hated you."
He nodded. "That was the goal I wished to accomplish. Only it backfired on me. I could not get you out of my mind."
Leaning his head back, he allowed the memories to surface. "I would end up going to bed with you on my mind. I even went as far as taking lovers to get you out of my head." He turned his head to meet her eyes. "Did you know that?"
She shook her head, feeling the ache inside her heart. He was brilliant and that was why she had wanted so badly to work with him. She had heard the rumors, of course. Samuel Copeland was a nightmare to work with. He was very exacting and ruthlessly thorough. But in order to get the most out of her acting, she wanted the best. She never realized how much they would clash or how combustible their relationship would be.
"I spent nights pacing and crying in my room. And wondering if acting was really for me. You made me feel as if I didn't have an ounce of talent."
"I was harder on you than anyone else for two reasons. One, you were so damn good and had a tendency to hold back."
He lapsed into silence as he stared out at the ice sliding down the window. "And two, I was fighting the most intense attraction I'd ever felt. It baffled me. I made a promise to myself never to get involved with any actress I'm working with for obvious reasons. It always spelled disaster. I wanted at all times to be able to issue a directive and not have it countermanded because I'm sleeping with the person. I know what I want and I expect to be obeyed."
His gaze swung back to her. "You spoiled all of it for me. I couldn't concentrate; the methods I tried were not working. The only thing left was to take you to bed and get you out of my system. Only..."
"I wasn't playing ball."
He laughed grimly. "At first I thought you were playing hard to get."
"And then I told you that I don't sleep with people I work with, that I intend to make it on my own merit, not because I'm sleeping with the producer."
"I was furious with myself, and when you said that, I saw it as a sign to leave you the hell alone." He took a sip of wine. "Easier said than done. I couldn't get you out of my mind."
"And you punished me," she recalled with a shake of her head.
"Then I kissed you." A smile curved his lips. "You barged into my office one evening while the rest of the cast had gone for the day and demanded to know what my problem was. It was right then and there that I said to hell with everything and made my move. It was not planned, of course, but Christ!" He shook his head. "The first feel of your body against mine drove me out of my mind."
"I tried to resist." Her smile came, her eyes turning luminous. "That was pride, of course, because I had been fighting my attraction as well and I wondered what on earth I was going to do about it. When you touched me..." She took a shaky breath as she recalled the fire and heat that had sprung up. "When you touched me, I felt as if I was going out of my mind. I wanted you so much that it scared me to death."
Leaning over, he took the glass from her suddenly nerveless fingers.
"Come here," he whispered hoarsely. Taking her hand, he tugged her over and onto his lap. Setting his own glass aside, he cradled her face between his palms. "I never stopped wanting you, never stopped loving you."
"I know," she whispered back. Her heart was pounding, and the heat was already starting.
"You left it loose." His fingers combed through the thick strands, admiring the way the light from the flames picked out the varying colors that always reminded him of the russet and gold leaves of fall. "I like it this way."
"I know." Her fingers lifted to touch the faint scruff on his face. "I fell in love with you that first time. You made love to me and what I feared the most had happened. I knew your reputation with women, and I was unable to stop myself from falling. I called myself all kinds of fool.
"You are Samuel Copeland, exalted and revered producer. And heir to a fortune. I told myself that there was no way you would ever want to be with someone like me. I blamed myself for my weakness."
"And you avoided me." He trailed a finger over one smooth cheek, admiring the flawless skin.
