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What on earth—?
Why should she care what Jaxon Wilder thought of her? As far as Stazy was concerned there would be absolutely no reason for the two of them ever to meet again after today—let alone for her to care what he thought of her as a woman …
She straightened determinedly. ‘I believe you are not only wasting your own time, Mr Wilder, but also my grandfather’s and mine—’
‘As it happens, I’m willing to give Jaxon my blessing and my co-operation. I will allow him to read letters and personal papers of Anastasia’s.’ Geoffrey spoke firmly over Stazy’s scathing dismissal. ‘But only under certain conditions.’
Stazy’s eyes widened as she turned to look at her grandfather. ‘You can’t be serious!’
Her grandfather gave a slight inclination of his head. ‘I believe you will find, darling, that it’s called controlling a situation that one knows is inevitable, rather than attempting a futile fight against it.’
Jaxon felt none of the exhilaration he might have expected to feel at Sir Geoffrey not only giving his blessing to the making of the film, but also offering him access to certain of Anastasia’s personal papers in order to aid in the writing of the screenplay. Inwardly he sensed that whatever Geoffrey’s conditions were, Jaxon wasn’t going to like them …
Stazy Bromley obviously felt that same sense of unease as she stood up abruptly, a frown between those clear green eyes as she stared down at her grandfather for several long seconds before her expression softened slightly.
‘Darling, remember what happened after that awful book was published—’
‘I’m insulted that you would even think of comparing the film I intend to make with that sensationalised trash!’ Jaxon rose sharply to his feet.
She turned to look at him coolly. ‘How can I think otherwise?’
‘Maybe by giving me a chance—’
‘Now, now, you two.’ Sir Geoffrey chuckled softly. ‘It really doesn’t bode well if the two of you can’t even be in the same room together without arguing.’
Jaxon’s earlier feeling of trepidation grew as he turned to look down at the older man, not fooled for a moment by the innocence of Sir Geoffrey’s expression. ‘Perhaps you would care to explain your conditions …?’ he prompted slowly, warily. Whatever ace Geoffrey Bromley had hidden up his sleeve Jaxon was utterly convinced he wasn’t going to like it!
The older man gave a shrug. ‘My first condition is that there will be no copies made of my wife’s personal papers. In fact they are never to leave this house.’
That was going to make things slightly awkward. It would mean that Jaxon would have to spend several days—possibly a week—here at Bromley House in order to read those papers and make notes before he was able to go away and write the screenplay. But, busy schedule permitting, there was no real reason why it couldn’t be done. Over the years he had certainly stayed in infinitely less salubrious places than the elegant comfort of Bromley House!
‘My second condition—’
‘Exactly how many conditions are there?’ Jaxon prompted with amusement.
‘Just the two,’ Sir Geoffrey assured him dryly. ‘And the first condition will only apply if you agree to the second.’
‘Fine.’ Jaxon nodded ruefully.
‘Oh, I wouldn’t give me your agreement just yet, Jaxon,’ the older man warned derisively.
Stazy didn’t at all like the calculating glint she could clearly see in her grandfather’s eyes. His first condition made a certain amount of sense—although there was no guarantee, of course. But at least Jaxon Wilder having access to her grandmother’s personal papers might mean there was a slight chance his screenplay would have some basis in truth. Not much, but some.
That only left her grandfather’s second condition …
‘Go ahead, Gramps,’ she invited softly.
‘Perhaps you should both sit down first …?’
Stazy tensed and at the same time sensed Jaxon’s own increased wariness as he stood across the room from her. ‘Do we need to sit down …?’
‘Oh I think it might be advisable,’ her grandfather confirmed dryly.
‘I’ll remain standing, if you don’t mind,’ Jaxon Wilder rasped gruffly.
‘Not at all,’ Geoffrey chuckled. ‘Stazy?’
‘The same,’ she murmured warily.
‘Very well.’ Her grandfather relaxed back in his chair as he looked up at the two of them. ‘I have found your conversation today highly … diverting, shall we say? And I assure you there is really very little that a man of my age finds in the least amusing!’ her grandfather added ruefully.
He was playing with them, Stazy recognised frustratedly. Amusing himself at their expense. ‘Will you just spit it out, Gramps!’
He smiled slightly as he rested his elbows on the arms of the chair before linking his fingers together in front of his chest. ‘Stazy, you obviously have reservations about the content of Jaxon’s film—’
‘With good reason!’
‘With no reason whatsoever,’ Jaxon corrected grimly. ‘I am not the one responsible for that dreadful biography—nor have I ever written or starred in a film that twists the truth in order to add sensationalism,’ he added hardly.
‘I doubt most Hollywood actors would recognise the truth if it jumped up and bit them on the nose!’ Those green eyes glittered with scorn.
Jaxon wasn’t sure which one of them had closed the distance between them—was only aware that they now stood so close that their noses were almost touching as she glared up at him and Jaxon scowled right back down at her.
He was suddenly aware of the soft insidiousness of Stazy’s perfume: a heady combination of cinnamon, lemon and—much more disturbing—hotly enraged woman …
Close to her like this, Jaxon could see that those amazing green eyes had a ring of black about the iris, giving them a strangely luminous quality that was almost mesmerising when fringed with the longest, darkest lashes he had ever seen. Her complexion was the pale ivory of fine bone china, with the same delicacy of appearance.
A delicacy that was completely at odds with the sensual fullness of her mouth.
Her lips were slightly parted now, to reveal small and perfectly straight white teeth. Small white teeth that Jaxon imagined could bite a man with passion as easily as—What the …?
Jaxon stepped back abruptly as he realised he had allowed his thoughts to wander way off the reservation, considering the antagonism the two of them clearly felt towards each other. Not only that, but Stazy Bromley was exactly like all the buttoned-down and career-orientated women he knew who had clawed themselves up the professional ladder so that they might inhabit the higher echelons of certain film studios. Hard, unfeminine women, whom Jaxon always avoided like the plague!
He eased the tension from his shoulders before turning back to face the obviously still amused Geoffrey Bromley. ‘I agree with Stazy—’
‘How refreshing!’ she cut in dryly.
‘You may as well just get this is over with,’ Jaxon finished ruefully.
‘Let’s hope the two of you are in as much agreement about my second condition.’ Sir Geoffrey nodded, no longer smiling or as relaxed as he had been a short time ago. ‘I’ve given the matter some thought, and in view of Stazy’s lack of enthusiasm for the making of your film, and your own obvious determination to prove her suspicions wrong, Jaxon, I feel it would be better for all concerned if Stazy were to assist you in collating and researching Anastasia’s personal papers.’
‘What …?’
Jaxon was completely in agreement with Stazy Bromley’s obvious horror at the mere suggestion of the two of them working that closely together even for one minute, let alone the days or weeks it might take him to go through Anastasia Bromley’s papers!
CHAPTER TWO
STAZY was the first to recover her powers of speech. ‘You can’t be serious, Gramps—’
‘I assure you I am perfectly serious.’ He nodded gravely.
She gave a disbelieving shake of her head. ‘I can’t just take time off from the university whenever I feel like it!’
‘I’m sure Jaxon won’t mind waiting a few weeks until you finish for the long summer break.’
‘But I’ve been invited to join a dig in Iraq this summer—’
‘And I sincerely doubt that any of those artifacts having already been there for hundreds if not thousands of years, are going to disappear overnight just because you arrive a week later than expected,’ her grandfather reasoned pleasantly.
Stazy stared down at him in complete frustration, knowing that she owed both him and her grandmother so much more than a week of her time. That if it wasn’t for the two of them completely turning their own lives upside down fifteen years ago she would never have coped with her parents deaths as well as she had. It had also been their encouragement and support that had helped her through an arduous university course and then achieving her doctorate.
Stazy’s thoughts came to an abrupt halt as she suddenly became aware of Jaxon Wilder’s unnatural silence.
Those silver-grey eyes were narrowed on her grandfather, hard cheekbones thrown into sharp prominence by the clenching of his jaw, and his mouth was a thin and uncompromising line. His hands too were clenched, into fists at his sides.
Obviously not a happy bunny, either, Stazy recognised ruefully.
Although any satisfaction she might have felt at that realisation was totally nullified by her own continued feelings of horror at her grandfather’s proposal. ‘I believe you will find Mr Wilder is just as averse to the idea as I am, Gramps,’ she drawled derisively.
He shrugged. ‘Then it would appear to be a case of film and be damned,’ he misquoted softly.
Stazy drew in a sharp breath as she remembered the furore that had followed the publication of the unauthorised biography six months ago. The press had hounded her grandfather for weeks afterwards—to the extent that he had arranged for round-the-clock guards to be placed at Bromley House and his house in London. And he had suffered a heart attack because of the emotional strain he had been put under.
Stazy had even had one inventive reporter sit in on one of her lectures without detection, only to corner her with a blast of personal questions at the end—much to her embarrassment and anger.
The thought of having to go through all that again was enough to send cold shivers of dread down Stazy’s spine. ‘Perhaps you might somehow persuade Mr Wilder into not making the film at all, Gramps?’ Although her own behaviour towards him this past hour or so certainly wasn’t conducive to Jaxon Wilder wanting to do her any favours!
Probably she should have thought of that earlier. Her grandmother had certainly believed in the old adage, ‘You’ll catch more with honey than with vinegar …’
The derision in Jaxon Wilder’s piercing grey eyes as he looked at her seemed to indicate he was perfectly aware of Stazy’s belated regrets! ‘What form of … persuasion did you have in mind, Dr Bromley?’ he drawled mockingly.
Stazy felt the colour warm her cheeks. ‘I believe I referred to my grandfather’s powers of persuasion rather than my own,’ she returned irritably.
‘Pity,’ he murmured softly, those grey eyes speculative as his gaze moved slowly over Stazy, from her two-inch-heeled shoes, her curvaceous figure in the black dress, to the top of her flame-coloured head, before settling on the pouting fullness of her mouth.
She frowned her irritation as she did her best to ignore that blatantly sexual gaze. ‘Surely you can appreciate how much the making of this film is going to upset my grandfather?’
‘On the contrary.’ Jaxon deeply resented Stazy Bromley’s tone. ‘I believe that a film showing the true events of seventy years ago can only be beneficial to your grandmother’s memory.’
‘Oh, please, Mr Wilder.’ Stazy Bromley eyed him pityingly. ‘We both know that your only interest in making this particular film is in going up on that stage in a couple of years’ time to collect yet another batch of awards!’
Jaxon drew in a sharp breath. ‘You—’
‘Enough!’ Sir Geoffrey firmly cut in on the conversation before Jaxon had chance to finish his blistering reply. Eyes of steely-blue raked over both of them as he stood up. ‘I believe that for the moment I have heard quite enough on this subject from both of you.’ He gave an impatient shake of his head. ‘You’ll be staying for dinner, I hope, Jaxon …?’ He raised steel-grey brows questioningly.
‘If you feel we can make any progress by my doing so—yes, of course I’ll stay to dinner,’ Jaxon bit out tensely.
Sir Geoffrey gave a derisive smile. ‘I believe it will be up to you and Stazy as to whether any progress will or can be made before you leave here later today,’ he said dryly. ‘And, with that in mind, I am going upstairs to take a short nap before dinner. Stazy, perhaps you would like to take Mr Wilder for a walk in the garden while I’m gone? My roses are particularly lovely this year, Jaxon, and their perfume is strongest in the late afternoon and early evening,’ he added lightly, succeeding in silencing his granddaughter as she drew in another deep breath with the obvious intention of arguing against his suggestion.
Jaxon was reminded that the older man had once been in a position of control over the whole of British Intelligence, let alone one stubbornly determined granddaughter! ‘A walk in the garden sounds … pleasant,’ Jaxon answered noncommittally, not completely sure that Stazy Bromley wouldn’t use the opportunity to try and stab him with a garden fork while they were outside, and so put an end to this particular problem.
‘That’s settled, then,’ Sir Geoffrey said heartily. ‘Do cheer up, darling.’ He bent to kiss his granddaughter on the forehead. ‘I very much doubt that Jaxon has any intention of attempting to steal the family silver before he leaves!’
The sentiment was so close to Jaxon’s own earlier thoughts in regard to Stazy’s obviously scathing opinion of him that he couldn’t help but chuckle wryly. ‘No, Sir Geoffrey, I believe you may rest assured that all your family jewels are perfectly safe where I’m concerned.’
The older man placed an affectionate arm about his granddaughter’s slender shoulders. ‘Stazy is the only family jewel I care anything about, Jaxon.’
‘In that case, they’re most definitely safe!’ Jaxon assured him with hard dismissal.
‘And on that note …’ Sir Geoffrey smiled slightly as his arm dropped back to his side. ‘I’ll see both of you in a couple of hours.’ He turned and left the room. Leaving a tense and awkward silence behind him.
Stazy was very aware of the barely leashed power of the man walking beside her across the manicured lawn in the warmth of the late-afternoon sunshine, and could almost feel the heated energy radiating off Jaxon Wilder. Or perhaps it was just repressed anger? The two of them had certainly got off to a bad start earlier—and it had only become worse during the course of the next hour!
Mainly because of her own less-than-pleasant attitude, Stazy accepted. But what else had this man expected? That she was just going to stand by and risk her grandfather becoming ill again?
She gave a weary sigh before breaking the silence between them. ‘Perhaps we should start again, Mr Wilder?’
He raised dark brows as he looked down at her. ‘Perhaps we should, Dr Bromley?’
‘Stazy,’ she invited abruptly.
‘Jaxon,’ he drawled in return.
He obviously wasn’t going to make this easy for her, Stazy acknowledged impatiently. ‘I’m sure you are aware of what happened five months ago, and why I now feel so protective towards my grandfather?’
‘Of course.’ Jaxon gave a rueful smile as he ducked beneath the trailing branches of a willow tree, only to discover there was a wooden swing chair beneath the vibrant green leaves. ‘Shall we …?’ he prompted lightly. ‘I resent the fact,’ he continued once they were both seated, ‘that you believe he might need any protection from me.’
That was fair enough, Stazy acknowledged grudgingly. Except she still believed this man was in a position to cause her grandfather unnecessary distress. ‘He and my grandmother were totally in love with each other until the very end …’
Jaxon heard clearly the pain of loss underlying her statement. ‘I’m not about to do anything to damage either Geoffrey’s or your own treasured memories of Anastasia,’ he assured her huskily.
‘No?’
‘No,’ Jaxon said evenly. ‘On the contrary—I’m hoping my film will help to set the record straight where your grandmother’s actions seventy years ago are concerned. I don’t believe in making money—or in acquiring awards—’ he gave her a pointed look ‘—by causing someone else unnecessary pain.’
Stazy felt her cheeks warm at the rebuke. ‘Perhaps we should just draw a veil over our previous conversation, Jaxon …?’
‘Perhaps we should.’ He chuckled wryly.
Stazy’s eyes widened as she saw that a cleft had appeared in Jaxon’s left cheek as he smiled, and those grey eyes were no longer cold but the warm colour of liquid mercury, his teeth very white and even against his lightly tanned skin.
Stazy had spent the past eleven years acquiring her degree, her doctorate, and lecturing—as well as attending as many archaeological digs around the world as she could during the holidays. Leaving very little time for such frivolities as attending the cinema. Even so, she had seen several of Jaxon Wilder’s films, and was able to appreciate that the man in the flesh was very much more … immediate than even his sexy screen image portrayed. Mesmerisingly so.
Just as she was aware of the heat of his body as he sat beside her on the swing seat—of the way his lightly spicy aftershave intermingled with the more potent and earthy smell of a virile male in his prime.
That was something of an admission from a woman who over the years had eschewed even the suggestion of a personal relationship in favour of concentrating on her career. And now certainly wasn’t the time for Stazy to belatedly develop a crush on a film star!
Even one as suavely handsome as Jaxon Wilder.
