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Right. Rick spotted Chiara in the distance. No doubt she was heading to film her next scene. There was someone who treated him more like the hired help than the boss.
Complications and delays on a film were common, and Rick had a feeling Chiara was about to become his biggest complication to date...
Two
“Hey.”
It was exactly the sort of greeting she expected from a sweaty and earthy he-man—or rather, stuntman.
Chiara’s pulse picked up. Ugh. She hadn’t expected to have this reaction around him. She was a professional—a classically trained actress before
she’d been diverted by Hollywood.
Sure, she’d been Miss Rhode Island, and a runner-up in the Miss America pageant. But then the Yale School of Drama had beckoned. And she’d never been a Hollywood blonde. The media most often compared her to Camilla Belle because they shared a raven-haired, chestnut-eyed look.
Anyway, with her ebony hair, she’d need to have her roots touched up every other day if she tried to become a blonde. As far as she was concerned, she spent enough time in the primping chair.
She figured He-Stuntman had gotten his education in the School of Hard Knocks. Maybe a broken bone or two. Certainly plenty of bumps and bruises.
Rick stopped in front of her. No one was around. They were near the actors’ trailers, far away from the main action. Luckily she hadn’t run into him after her talk with Odele two days ago. Instead, she’d managed to avoid him until now.
Dusk was gathering, but she still had a clear view of him.
He was in a ripped tee, jeans and body paint meant to seem like grease and dirt, while she was wearing a damsel-in-distress/sidekick look—basically a feminine version of Rick’s attire but her clothes were extratight and torn to show cleavage. And from the quick perusal he gave her, she could tell the bare skin hadn’t escaped his notice.
“So you need a boyfriend,” he said without preamble.
She itched to rub the smug smile off his face. “I don’t need anything. This would be a completely optional but mutually advantageous arrangement.”
And right after this conversation, she was going to have another serious talk with her manager. What had Odele signed her up for?
“You need me.”
She burned. He’d made it sound like you want me.
“I’ve been asked to play many roles, but never a stud.”
“Don’t get too excited.”
He grinned. “Don’t worry, I won’t. I have a thing for the doe-eyed, dark-haired look, but since Camilla Belle isn’t available, you’ll do.”
The flames of temper licked her, not least because he was clued in as to her Hollywood doppelgänger. “So you’ll settle?”
“I don’t know. Let’s kiss and find out.”
“If the cameras were rolling, it would be time for a slap right now,” she muttered.
He caught her wrist and tugged her closer.
“This isn’t a movie, and you’re no actor!” she objected.
“Great, because I intend to kiss you for real. Let’s see if we can be convincing for when the paparazzi and public are watching.” He raised his free hand to thread his fingers through her hair and move it away from her face. “Your long dark hair is driving me crazy.”
“It’s the Brazilian-Italian heritage,” she snapped back, “and I bet you say the same thing to all your leading ladies.”
“No,” he answered bemusedly, “some of them are blondes.”
And then his mouth was on hers. If he’d been forceful, she’d have had a chance, but his lips settled on hers with soft, tantalizing pressure. He smelled of smoke from the special effects, and when his tongue slipped inside her mouth, she discovered the taste of mint, too.
