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“A few,” she admitted, although it was far more than a few, and she wouldn’t consider it last-minute until Thursday night.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Just keeping up with the Joneses.” He took the computer directly across from her, swiveling the chair to face her. He could have picked any of the other four workstations in the room. The ones farther away from her—out of spying and distracting distance.
“I hear you’re setting a high standard.” He slid a disk into the drive and began punching keys. “Thanks to you, I’m not getting any sleep tonight.”
“Where did you hear that?”
Had he been spying on her? Asking around? Bribing employees? She wouldn’t put it past him.
“A gentleman never tells.” Jeffrey turned his attention to the computer screen, and she thought she caught a hint of a smile. “We happened to be having dinner on the deck at the Breakwater.”
“You just happened to be overlooking my shoot?” Ashley didn’t believe it for a second. They must have followed her there. The Breakwater deck would have given them a perfect view of last night’s filming.
“You were spying on me,” she accused.
Jeffrey glanced up. “What do I look like? James Bond?”
No. Actually, he looked more like Daniel Day-Lewis in The Last of the Mohicans. With shorter hair and darker eyes. And maybe his chin was stronger, too. Funny, she didn’t remember Jeffrey ever looking so rawly sensual.
Wait a minute. Her mind was wandering. What were they talking about?
Spying. Right. She’d lost it there for a moment. Must be sleep deprivation.
She realized his gaze was gaining intensity, and she shifted in her chair. “If you weren’t spying on me, what were you doing at the Breakwater?”
“Rob said they had good steaks.”
“Since when did you start eating steaks?”
“My third birthday.”
“Cute.” Maybe that’s what bulked up his muscles. Jeffrey had taken to eating red meat over the past year.
He hit a couple of keys on his computer, and a series of colors reflected off the planes and angles of his face.
“You have video clips?” So much for scooping the competition.
“These are stock tourist clips of Alaska. Rob’s working with the actors.”
Her surprise must have shown on her face.
“You thought I’d just throw in the towel?” he asked softly with a slight shake of his head. “I’ve got a lot at stake here.”
So did she. In fact, so much was at risk here, that even having this conversation was a mistake. She couldn’t afford to inadvertently give him any more ammunition against her. She turned her attention to the big monitor in front of her, and enlarged her presentation.
She opened up one of the text files which contained a synopsis on the series idea and started proofreading.
She could hear the clicking of the computer keys as Jeffrey began working.
The overall storyline synopsis looked good, so she moved on to the episode specific stories.
They’d only come up with two episodes so far. They needed at least six.
While she proofread the text in front of her, she let her mind wander to other story ideas.
Before she realized it, she’d stopped reading. As the story ideas rambled through her brain, her action hero sprinted down the beach and suddenly turned into Jeffrey. That made no sense, since Jeffrey was neither old and jaded nor was he gay.
Still, her mind insisted on picturing him tanned and toned against the white sand…with her…in her smallest bikini. She felt the waves tickle her feet and imagined his warm hands on her skin, pausing on the curve of her hip, toying with the ties on her bathing suit.
A shiver of arousal ran through her.
Then the daydream changed. They were in a big bed. White, gauzy curtains billowed in the ocean breeze through an open window.
She could hear the gulls calling, and the waves crashing. She was in his arms, and it was morning, so they must have made love.
But, darn it, she couldn’t remember making love. She stared down at his dark head against the crisp, white pillowcase. She wanted him to wake up so they could make love again.
“Ashley?” His voice was husky against her ear, the soft puff of air erotically tickling her sensitive skin.
He was awake. She turned her head and smiled into his dark, sexy eyes. They were going to make love again, and this time she was going to savor every second.
“You want me to take you home?” he asked.
Home? She shook her head. No way. Not before they made love again.
She tipped her chin, hoping he’d reach out with those big, strong hands and stroke her face.
“Coffee?” he asked. “Or maybe breakfast? It’s nearly six.”
“Are those my only choices?” she mumbled in the sexiest voice she could muster.
“What other choices do you want?” There was a hint of laughter in his tone.
Ashley was about to tell him in bald terms just exactly what choice she was looking for.
But, suddenly, the hotel room vanished, replaced by a computer screen. Jeffrey wasn’t in her arms in a fantasy bedroom on the oceanfront. He was leaning over her in the Argonaut computer lab.
Icy mortification washed through her. He was waking her up from a catnap and she was about to proposition him.
“Coffee sounds good,” she choked out. Coffee. Followed by a long cold shower, and a stern lecture about curbing her fantasy life.
“Want me to bring it here, or you want to go out and grab some breakfast together?”
“What time is it?” She straightened up in the padded chair.
“Nearly six,” he said.
She lifted her hand to her forehead, combing back the fine hairs which had worked their way loose from her braid. Checking her skirt and short-sleeved sweater she made sure everything was in the right place.
Two hours? She’d been asleep for two hours?
As the implication sunk in, her gaze flew to her computer screen. He could have done anything in two hours. He could have read her whole presentation. He could have erased it or sabotaged it.
“The answer is nothing,” he said dryly.
“I didn’t say a word.”
“It’s written all over your face.” He straightened. “I’m an honest man, Ashley. I want to win, but not at the cost of my principles.”
Principles? Ashley blinked. That wasn’t a word bandied about in the L.A. television industry very often.
She honestly didn’t know whether to believe him or not.
“Besides, if I betrayed you while you slept, there’s nothing you can do about it now. Let me buy you some bacon and eggs.”
“I don’t eat meat.”
“Then, let me buy you pancakes and fruit. Not to brag or anything, but you’re going to need your strength if you’re going up against me.”
As Ashley stared into his eyes, the sensations from the dream burst back through her mind, making her shiver with the memory. She’d felt so safe in his arms. More safe and loved and cherished than she’d ever imagined possible.
“You okay?” he asked.
She nodded, squeezing her eyes shut, reality warring with fantasy.
“Come on, sleepyhead.” He slipped an arm around her shoulders, strong fingers coaxing her up. His voice was a sensual rumble near her ear. “Let’s get you something to eat.”
Ashley yielded to the pressure of his arm. Yielded to the magic of her dream. Yielded to the charisma of the new Jeffrey. She allowed him to draw her into a standing position, her body brushing his broad chest.
Had he grown taller?
No. That was silly.
“When’s the last time you slept?” he asked, voice soft.
She shrugged her shoulders, making no move to pull away. “What day is this?” She gave a quick, nervous laugh.
He cocked his head, looking deep into her eyes for a long moment. Then something subtly shifted in his expression, and he quickly blinked.
His fingertips held her arm a little more tightly. “Uh. You better let me take you home to bed.”
Ashley drew a quick breath, her breasts brushing against him for a split second.
He didn’t mean…
Of course he didn’t mean that.
But, she had such a craving.
“Ashley?” He sighed her name, and his gaze darkened.
“Jeffrey?” she whispered back, subconsciously leaning in.
Just one little kiss. She just wanted a sample. Just a taste of what she’d missed in her dream.
His arm slipped to her waist and tightened around her. He shook his head and muttered something under his breath. Then he drew her cheek against the thin fabric of his dress shirt, rocking ever so slightly.
Something inside her shuddered, then settled, then sighed.
“This is bad,” he whispered against her hair, voice sounding strained.
He stroked his palm down her disheveled braid. His chest rose and fell with several deep breaths.
“Yeah,” she agreed, as the heat of his hand seeped into every single follicle.
“I cannot believe…”
She waited, but he didn’t finish the sentence. She tipped her head back so she could look him in the eyes. Her lips softened and her knees grew weak.
This was bad, but in such a good way.
3
JORDAN GAZED down at Ashley’s slumberous eyes and inviting lips, soft and deep pink in the flickering light from her computer screen. On second thought, bad was an understatement.
This was a disaster.
He knew he had to walk away—now, before things got out of hand. But somehow, he couldn’t get that message to his legs.
She blinked her long lashes. Once, then twice, then three times. She looked slightly tousled from sleep—that crisp, perfect, don’t-touch-me edge gone.
Desire convulsed within him.
He stroked his fingertips over her hair, reveling in its soft texture, inhaling the subtle scent of her wild-flower perfume. “Do you think…”
“Yes?” she answered on a whisper, her sweet breath puffing against his skin.
His hand tightened involuntarily around the rope of her braid. “That if I kissed you…”
Her eyes closed, and she softened in his arms.
He moved another inch and brushed his lips gently across hers, testing the tender skin, absorbing the heat. “That in two minutes…”
A small shudder ran through her.
“Maybe five minutes…” he amended, pausing, puckering, holding her moist lips for a single heartbeat.
