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And the jeans he wore should be illegal, the way they clung to his tightly muscled legs. The top button was undone, making her think about what was under…
Gah! No, look up. Look up! Away from his body. Face. Face. Face!
But that wasn’t any safer.
He brushed some hair from his eyes, drawing attention to the muscles rippling under the skin of his arm and chest. Just the right amount of chest hair: a sprinkling that got darker and thicker as it led down to…
No, can’t let my eyes wander down there. Really, I should close them. That would be safest, right? But then how would I escape from the trailer? This was almost comical. She would laugh about it if she weren’t so inclined to gawk.
How had it gotten so hot in the trailer? Maybe the air conditioning had stopped working. Her eyes opened of their own volition and were again fixed on his chest. She yanked her gaze up to his face, where the dimples were out in force and a lock of dark hair curled over his forehead.
And then his lips curved into a smile.
Damn it! He was yanking her chain. He was enjoying the effect he had on her. Like she needed to have his physical beauty rubbed in her face. What was his point? Demonstrating that he was more attractive? She was aware, thank you very much.
Anger doused her ardor with cold water.
Averting her gaze, she thrust the paper plate in his direction. “Here’s your sandwich.”
He backed away, refusing to take it and trying to draw her further into the trailer. She wasn’t about to play games; instead, she set the plate and cup on the table by the door and turned to leave.
“Wait!”
She froze with her back to him, staring at the asphalt and grass outside the door. So close…
“Why don’t you…um…sit? Take a load off for a minute?” When she peered over her shoulder, he gestured to the ridiculously large, overstuffed leather sofa. “You’ve probably been on your feet for hours.”
“No, thanks. I’ve got a million things to do.”
“Ten minutes,” he coaxed. “You guys get run ragged all over the set. I feel bad about it. You came all this way to bring me a sandwich. The least I can do is give you a break and something to drink.”
She was already shaking her head when his hand, firm and warm, closed over the bare skin of her upper arm. Ohhhh. That touch. His fingers on her skin… She wanted to beg him to touch her other places, too. In fact, he could touch her just about anywhere she had skin.
“Come on…” He tugged her gently toward the sofa, and she was incapable of resisting, sinking down onto the cushions—even while one part of her mind noted that he still wasn’t wearing a shirt.
“Would you like a glass of wine?”
Only then did she see the bottle of white wine in an ice bucket and two glasses. Without waiting for an answer, Will poured one and handed it to her. She took it automatically, sipped it, noting absently that it was a fabulous vintage, and put the glass on the coffee table.
He poured a glass for himself and then sat on the sofa—not on the far end. Not in the middle. No, he seated himself on an otherwise empty sofa near enough to Elizabeth that their thighs touched.
Elizabeth struggled to process all of this. Why was he behaving so strangely? But her brain was fogged, sluggish. Was he pumping out some kind of mind-numbing pheromones? Well, duh, look at him! Of course, he had super strength pheromones. They would go with the chest-of-every-woman’s-dreams.
“How is the True Colors project going?” he asked, unwrapping the sandwich.
Why was her mouth suddenly so dry? She had to swallow before words would emerge. “I think it’s going well. Fifteen of the kids have mentors, who all seem happy to have them around longer than we expected. They seem to be getting a lot out of it.”
“That’s great. You’ve done a terrific job.” He took a bite of the sandwich.
She kept her eyes fixed on the bottle of wine—far safer than even the slightest glance in his direction. Silence stretched between them. There was probably something she could say, but her mind was blank.
What was this all about? Calling her here. Wine and glasses ready. The lack of shirt. The empty trailer. The soft sofa. It screamed seduction attempt.
But…why would he bother? She wasn’t a movie star or a model or a producer he needed to impress. He had women—literally—standing by the studio gate hoping just to catch a glimpse of him. He didn’t need to bother seducing anyone, least of all the personal assistant he’d dissed as being unattractive and stupid.
After taking another bite, Will set the sandwich down on the coffee table. “Look, Elizabeth, there’s something I wanted to ask you. Um, have you ever been to a film premiere?”
Holy non sequitur Batman! “Um, yeah, I went to the premieres of my dad’s movies, but, you know, they were low-key.”
