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There were plenty of celebrities in her section of LA but it was a little more low-key than the brand-name neighborhoods where tourists flocked—Beverly Hills, Bel Air...
Rick’s lips twitched. “Brentwood has its charms, particularly if there’s a thatched English cottage...and fairy-tale princess involved.”
“She’s the kick-ass modern variety,” she sniffed—because she should be verbally demolishing him right now for letting her believe he was just an aw-shucks stuntman living for the next thrill and its accompanying paycheck.
“Don’t I know it.” His eyes laughed at her.
“Why would you give up New York, the financial industry and your own hedge fund to go out West to Hollywood?”
He smiled a little, still unflappable. “New challenges. Hollywood is not that different from Wall Street. The studios take major gambles with movies. Different rules, but the same game. And it’s still about trusting your instincts and making money—or not.”
“Well, it all makes sense now—” sarcasm crept into her tone “—except for the part where you led me to believe you were a regular Joe.”
“Is this our first argument?”
She nearly snorted. “Or our hundredth.”
He sauntered closer. “Would it have made a difference if you’d known?”
“You could have hired a stable of bodyguards for me with your bank!”
“Ah,” he drawled, “but then I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of...your company.”
“The joy of sparring with me, you mean? And living in a humble cottage instead of a castle in Beverly Hills?”
He burst out laughing. “I’m paying you enough to live in more than a humble cottage.”
“But are you paying me enough to put up with you?”
He gave a sultry smile and reached for her. “I don’t know. Let’s find out.”
She should be mad at him. She was angry with him. Still, it didn’t matter. The truth was she’d been lured in by the seductive cozy family life of the Serenghettis. She yearned for it. They were miles removed from her existence in Southern California, and the distance wasn’t just a matter of geography.
When Rick’s lips met hers, Chiara was transported, winging through the clouds as if they were performing another one of their stunts. Exhilaration ran through her, the feeling humming alongside one of safety, family...and coming home.
He molded her to him with his hand on her back, making her feel his need—his desire. She rested her hands on his shoulders, and then, caving, slid her arms around his neck, bringing his head closer.
Rick lifted his head slightly, and muttered against her mouth, “We need props.”
She gave a choked laugh. “This is not a film scene.”
Rick raised his eyebrows. “You’re an actress who’s not into role-playing?”
“I like to keep it real. Well, except for this pretending about being a couple that Odele has me doing!”
“Believe me, this is as real and raw as it’s going to get.”
Awareness shivered through her. “Okay, what if I’m a chilly A-list actress and you’re...the help who is intent on seducing me?”
“There’s nothing cold about you, Snow,” he said, tilting up her chin. “Well, except for maybe your nickname.”
“But you’re here to melt me?”
He flashed his teeth. “I’m trying.”
It had been safer to pretend he was the help. Just the movie stuntman. Or the make-believe boyfriend. Not a man whose wealth dwarfed hers. One who had no use for her money or her fame and celebrity. One who’d put himself on the line to protect her—just because.
She didn’t know what to do with a man like that. She’d spent years living as if she didn’t need any man. Because she could provide for herself, thanks. But with Rick, she was at a disadvantage. He’d come to her defense against a stalker, and now it turned out he was her boss. She didn’t have the upper hand. He didn’t need her for anything, either.
