To Catch a Star: A Royal Romance to Remember!. Romy Sommer
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smiles!”
She ended the call, her smile turning to a frown. “What are you wearing?”
“The usual.” He looked down at the old jeans and baggy sweatshirt he now wore. “Is there something wrong with my clothes?”
“They’re fine if you’re planning to be mistaken for a homeless person.” She’d thought Hollywood actors were obsessed with looking good.
Christian grinned. “You sound just like my stylist.”
She switched back to professional mode. “Gerry arranged for your car to meet you at the front entrance.”
“Tell him not to bother. You know where I stay. You can take me.”
She pursed her lips. She remembered way too vividly how he filled the space in her little car. But she’d promised her father she’d stick with this until she could get the intel he needed. The sooner she found out what they needed to know, the better. And where better to start asking questions than alone in her car?
Christian matched her pace as she strode out to the car park, texting his driver as she walked.
“Where’s the fire?” he asked, practically jogging to keep up. “Or are you just eager to get rid of me so you can get to your hot date?”
That was a little closer to the truth. She’d love to get rid of him. The quicker she could get this job over and done with, the happier she’d be.
She slowed her pace. “How did you know about the Tortuga curse?”
She tried not to seem as if she was holding her breath. If he lied outright about having grown up in the islands, her work was going to be much tougher.
They reached her car, and Christian moved around to the driver’s door and held it open for her to climb in. His manners surprised her. Or maybe he was just avoiding her question.
He only answered when they were buckled inside. “I lived on the island of Arelat in the Los Pajaros islands until I was fourteen.”
She let go the breath she’d been holding. “The curse doesn’t bother you? You’ll be filming there in a few weeks.”
“I’ve been away from the islands long enough not to believe that old claptrap any more. But on Los Pajaros, the belief is still alive and well.”
“Why did you leave?”
He fiddled with the radio channels and Tessa gritted her teeth. Even Stefan knew better than to touch her pre-programmed settings.
Christian finally settled on a rock station, as far from her favourite classical station as one could get.
“This is a sweet ride. I bet she can do nought to hundred in four seconds.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
Christian rolled his eyes. “Will you let me drive her sometime?”
“No.”
He leaned back with his elbow on the window frame, his gaze fixed on her. “Tell me about yourself.”
She kept her eyes firmly on the road. “There’s not much to tell.” She didn’t need to look to know he grinned at her. But she looked anyway. His eyes, an unexpectedly bright blue, so unusual against his dark skin, were mesmerising. With an effort, she forced her attention back to the road ahead.
“Okay, let me guess then.” Taking her silence as assent, he pushed on. “You’ve grown up with wealth and privilege. You’ve never wanted for anything in your life.”
Wrong. Living in a big house and not having to worry about bills didn’t mean there weren’t things she wanted and couldn’t have. Christian may not have had the same kind of wealth she had growing up but he had the one thing she’d wanted more than anything in the world.
And right now what she wanted more than anything was to see his ring, find out his secrets, and get back to her own life. Her neat, organised, quiet life where her pre-programmed stations were inviolate and a man’s gaze didn’t have the power to burn her.
Christian studied her. “You’ve lived your whole life here in Westerwald, and I’m going to bet you haven’t travelled much beyond these borders either.”
“I love my home,” she said, immediately on the defensive. “I don’t need to go anywhere else.” He’d touched a raw spot.
“You’ve never seen a different view of the world. You’ve spent your whole life in your neat, white world, being a big fish in a very small pond. You’re too scared to leave. Am I right?”
The raw spot grew even more tender. “Now who’s being judgie? Are you trying to get me back for last night? I apologised for everything I said. In my defence, I thought I was being car-jacked.”
“Tell me about these escaped convicts you’re so afraid of.”
Another subject she didn’t want to dwell on. But perhaps if she shared a few confidences, Christian would be willing to open up further too. “My father was a judge, and he convicted the two drug dealers for murder. They had a parole hearing last week and somehow on the way to court they managed to escape. My father’s afraid they’ll try to get revenge on him through me.”
“No shit! So you thought it would be a good idea to come work for me? Thanks a lot.” But he smiled. Having seen him wield a sword, she wasn’t surprised he was unafraid. She had no doubt he’d be able to take good care of himself in a fight.
“I didn’t really take the threat seriously – until you jumped into my car. Besides, I’m pretty sure they’re long gone by now. Would you hang around in Westerwald if you had a bounty on your head?”
He laughed. “Last night I felt like I had a bounty on my head, and I was more than ready to get out of town.” He sobered up. “From now on we travel with my car. The driver’s also a trained bodyguard.”
She sighed. Exactly what she didn’t want. “You’re as bad as my father. I’m not going to change the way I live my life for some vague danger. Then the bad guys will have won.”
Christian said nothing, and she flicked a glance his way. She didn’t like the way he looked at her. As if he was seeing her in a whole new light. Not unlike a hungry person eyeing a tasty meal.
She didn’t like the idea of him giving her too much thought at all.
“And your mother – what does she do?” he asked.
She shifted gears. “She’s dead,” she said at last.
“I’m sorry. Mine died recently too. Do you miss her?”
You couldn’t miss what you couldn’t remember. Tessa went back to being all business. “Your call time on set tomorrow is seven o’clock. I’ll be ready and waiting with your driver at six thirty. Would you like me to give you a wake-up call?”
“Join me for breakfast.”
Though the word “breakfast” was a misnomer, since he’d told her his idea of breakfast was espresso.
She floundered. Were meals part of the deal? She really should have checked.
“Or are you planning on sharing breakfast with your hot date?” he teased.
She set her jaw. “I’ll meet you at six in the hotel’s dining room.”
“I usually breakfast in my suite.”
“The dining room or not at all.”
“Yes ma’am!”
She turned into the tree-lined boulevard that housed The Grand Hotel. It lived up to its name, a grand eighteenth-century mansion converted into a hotel, with a park-like garden at the rear. It was private, exclusive and she couldn’t picture Christian, who was all vibrant energy, against the quiet, solemn, old-world interiors.
She