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That was her biggest problem.
The competition.
How could she make herself stand out?
Matt Montgomery, the handsome star ofNot Tonight,a hugely successful sitcom, was throwing a big bash at his home a few houses down. Tony was bound to be there. If she could get Matt’s attention it might make Tony jealous.
Leaving the window and flopping on her bed, she turned on her large screen television, but the memory of Tony gripping her waist and thrusting inside her consumed her thoughts.
Closing her eyes and sliding her hand inside her panties, she remembered how breathtaking it had been lying over his lap. As her fingers played in her pussy, she could almost feel his hands roam across her ass...the sudden climax came out of nowhere, and she squealed as the convulsion took hold. But it was fleeting. Opening her eyes and staring at the ceiling, she let out a heavy sigh. She wanted him, and what Heather Ramsey wanted, Heather Ramsey didn’t rest until it was hers.
* * *
WHILE HEATHER WAS DAYDREAMINGabout Tony, Stewart Baxter was walking into the sound stage whereThe Tea Cupwas being filmed. But there was no-one around, and he wondered if he was the first to arrive. The meeting with Jennifer Olsen, John Stanley and Terry Hardcastle was scheduled for 7:30 a.m. and he was five minutes early. Stewart stifled a yawn. He hadn’t finished the endless paperwork until late the night before. Rather than face the long drive back to Malibu, he’d camped out on the office sofa, wishing he was home in bed with Jennifer.
Raised voices caught his attention. Looking across to the far end of the soundstage he could see John and Terry arguing, and he hurried over to join them.
“She’s impossible,” he heard the director exclaim.
“Be that as it may, we’re too far into production to replace her,” John retorted.
As Stewart approached he noticed Terry’s face was a deep shade of red. He liked and respected the English director, and suspected Jennifer was the problem. If he could uncover the bone of contention, he might be able to salvage the situation.
A shrill female voice suddenly echoed through the room.
Stewart cringed.
It was ominously reminiscent of his mother.
“Jesus, John! Why haven’t you fired that pathetic excuse of a director yet?”
Stewart was stunned. Though Jennifer was difficult, he’d never seen her behave so atrociously, but as he turned around and watched her walk towards them, he couldn’t help but marvel at her beauty.
Her face was flawless, pear shaped and cream skinned. She was as glamorous as the legendary Grace Kelly, but possessed a sultry, sexy quality. Her honey blonde hair, thick and wavy, fell in soft waves around her shoulders, and her knit jersey dress clung sensuously to her curves. Her long legs, made to look even longer due to the shortness of the dress and high-heeled sandals, were tanned and toned. Everything about her screamed stardom. He didn’t want to lose her as a client, but he didn’t want her becoming an impossible shrew either.
“Jennifer, you look lovely,” he said as she reached him. “I’m sure we—“
She flashed him a smile, but before he could continue she spun around and glared at John Stanley.
“I cannot work with this—this—amateur,” she barked, pointing at the director.
Stewart took a deep breath. Though Terry had won two Oscars, and was one of the most sought after directors in the world, he was also known to be demanding with his actors. He would shoot the same scene time and again until it met his expectations.
“Young woman, if anyone is an amateur on this sound stage, I’m looking at her,” he said brusquely. “I think a year at the London Academy would not be amiss. In fact, I suspect several of the undergraduates there could more than fill your shoes, and after a visit with a plastic surgeon, your bra as well!”
At a loss for words, Stewart looked across at John, but it appeared the studio executive was stifling a grin.
“Enough!”
A deep voice echoed across the huge empty space.
It was Jerry Goldman.
While Jennifer rolled her eyes, John and Terry nervously turned towards the man striding towards them. Stewart felt a glimmer of hope. If anyone could deal with Jennifer’s arrogance and Terry’s lack of confidence in his star, it was the head of the studio.
“This production is over budget and behind schedule,” Jerry announced. “I expected these petty disagreements to be sorted out by now. Aren’t you supposed to be professionals?”
“Don’t look at me,” Jennifer muttered. “Terry is impossible. I give him a perfect scene, and he yells,I want the champagne not the beer!What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
