Hollywood Husband, Contract Wife. Jane Porter
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and moved on, but not before giving Alexandra a brief inspection from beneath her lowered lashes.
Alexandra saw the look the waitress had given her and she wondered if everyone would look at her that way.
Wolf handed her martini glass to her before lifting his. They clinked glasses and Alexandra tilted her chocolate martini to her mouth, curious about a drink she’d heard of but never tried.
It was smooth, hot, strong, sweet, and she wrinkled her nose as she swallowed.
“Don’t like it?” Wolf asked, watching her.
“It’s different.”
“I take it different is bad.”
She smiled ruefully. “Different can be good. But in this case, different is just different.”
“Mmm.” His dark eyes glowed, and she felt, if not saw, the laughter within.
“You’re not laughing at me, are you?”
“Actually I am.”
And as she opened her mouth to protest, he caught the back of her head in his hand and pulled her close to cover her lips with his.
She inhaled at the sudden touch of his mouth on hers. It was a shock to her senses, his mouth so cool and firm, tasting of sweet chocolate and icy vodka. She shivered, her breasts peaking. At her shiver, his mouth hardened, the kiss deepening, the pressure parting her lips.
Her head spun, her senses swam, her body danced with pleasure that was as hot and sweet as it was electric.
The electric part dazzled her all over again, and blindly she leaned into him, searching for him, searching for more of the sensation and pleasure he offered.
Finally he lifted his head. She blinked, tried to focus, but she could only feel her mouth, soft, swollen, sensitive and it amazed her, this way he had of winning her over, taking her objections and melting them as surely as he’d just melted her.
Lifting her fingers to her mouth, Alex pressed down on her lips, feeling how the lower lip quivered and how her blood raced in her veins liquid-hot.
One kiss and she wanted more.
One kiss and she wanted to slide her hands into his thick ebony hair, twine her fingers through the glossy strands and hold tight, hold his face to hers so she could feel him, his beard and mouth, jaw and chin.
“You’re looking a little more relaxed,” he said, catching her hand in his and bringing it to his mouth, where he kissed the pulse beating frantically in her wrist.
“I think it’s the chocolate martini,” she said unsteadily.
His eyes creased. “I thought it was my kiss.”
She lifted her glass to her mouth and took a greedy gulp to hide the fact that he was making her nervous all over again. Those butterflies in her stomach had returned, only this time they felt more like forks of jagged lightning.
The chocolate-flavored martini slid down her throat, cool and tantalizing but also empowering. The cocktail made her feel stronger, calmer than she would have otherwise.
By the time they headed for home, close to midnight, Alexandra was laughing and surprisingly at ease.
She didn’t know if it was that first chocolate martini or Wolf making an effort to be charming, but she’d ended up having fun.
After drinks at the Casa Del Mar they’d driven to Houston’s for steaks and salads and glasses of wine. Again everyone had stared when they’d entered the darkened brick building, and again the hostess had magically found them a table.
Wolf hadn’t been the only celebrity dining at Houston’s that night, though. There’d been several other well-known entertainers, and two of them, both men, had stopped by their table to say hello.
Now Wolf was walking her to her door. After she unlocked the door, she stepped inside, and he followed her in, closing the door behind him. For a moment she felt a spike in nerves again, nerves and anticipation. Would he kiss her again?
But instead of a kiss, he checked each room, made sure everything was as it should be before saying good-night, giving her a platonic peck on the forehead and returning to his car.
His brotherly kiss jolted her back to reality. The kiss on the forehead was a kiss in private, a kiss behind closed doors and an indication of how things really were.
She wasn’t his love, wasn’t his girlfriend. She wasn’t even really his date. She was just a girl hired to play a part. Any kisses, any whispers, any sexy innuendos were for the public and the press, wherever the hidden photographers might be.
Alex leaned against the door and remembered the kisses earlier. There’d been so much heat between them. When he’d kissed her, she’d felt unbelievable. Glamorous. Funny. Delicious.
“Delicious,” Alex repeated, turning out the small hall light and heading for her bathroom, where she pulled her hair into a ponytail and washed her face, getting rid of the makeup.
In bed, Alex curled onto her side, covers pulled up high, so high that they covered her chin and the middle of her ear.
So you learned something important tonight, she told herself. You learned that there’s a difference between real and pretend, truth and fiction. Tonight was make-believe. And it’s okay to enjoy the make-believe, but don’t get it confused with reality.
You’re doing a job. That’s it.
No emotions, no hopes, no feelings.
This, she reminded herself sternly, is business.
The next morning Alex was at work when the flowers arrived. Three dozen very long-stemmed pink roses in a stunning hand-blown glass vase. Oohing and aahing, the entire Paradise Pictures office staff broke away from their tasks to look over Alexandra’s shoulder as she read the card.
Thank you for an unforgettable night. Looking forward to another. Wolf
Kristie, one of the other production assistants, snatched the card from Alexandra’s hands. “Wolf?” she said, flashing the card at everyone. “There’s only one Wolf I know of.”
“Hmm,” was all Alexandra said as she sat down in her chair and pushed the extravagant roses toward a corner of her desk to make some room to collate the scripts she’d just photocopied. It was one of the first jobs she did every morning. There were always script changes during the night, and the new, updated scenes had to be distributed to the cast and crew immediately.
But Kristie wasn’t to be put off. She leaned across Alexandra’s desk and held the small white florist card in front of Alexandra’s eyes. “Wolf.”
Alexandra looked up, her gaze meeting Kristie’s. “I think that’s what it does say.”
“Wolf Kerrick?”
Alexandra suppressed a sigh. “What do you want me to say, Kristie?”
The young, bubbly production assistant from Duluth, Minnesota, arched her eyebrows. “You’re seeing Wolf Kerrick?”
Alexandra shrugged as she reached for the next set of pages and stapled the corner. “I don’t know if I’m seeing him. We went out last night. Had dinner and drinks—”
“Is that the first time?”
“Um, well, not exactly. We’ve had lunch. And then he’s stopped by my house a couple times—”
“For real?”
Alexandra suppressed a smile. Kristie’s expression was priceless. “We’ve only just met in the past week. Who knows where it’ll go?”
But Kristie wasn’t looking at the card anymore, she was studying Alexandra. “It’s more than that. Something’s going on. You’re different, you know. You’re…pretty.”
Alexandra’s