Читать книгу Twice the Temptation - Cara Summers - Страница 10

WHY WAS REESE BRIGHTMAN at Haworth House?

Mac Davies circled around the side of the hotel and headed down one of the garden paths. According to her agent, she was supposed to be in L.A. working on the cookbook they would launch with her new cable TV show. That was why he’d thought it safe for him to check out the place she called home.

In spite of the fact that he’d sold thirteen episodes of her show, he wasn’t completely satisfied with the product yet. It was still missing something. So he’d flown across a continent hoping that Haworth House would provide the answer. It had.

The instant he’d seen the gray tower rising into a cloudless blue sky, he’d felt it—that special feeling he always got when something just clicked. And the moment he’d entered the lobby of the hotel, he’d experienced it again.

Finally. Using Haworth House as the setting for Reese Cooks for Friends would provide that special element, that difference, that had built the reputation of Mac Davies Productions. And it should also bring Reese’s show the kind of megaratings that the cable network had hired him to provide.

But reaching that moment where everything “clicked” had been a challenge. It usually didn’t take him three tries to nail a concept. And he’d never flown cross country to personally check out a location.

The problem was Reese. She’d affected him on a deeply personal level from the first moment he’d set eyes on her. So he’d avoided dealing with it. And her.

Reaching a gazebo, he climbed the steps and then looked back at the hotel. He’d never intended for their paths to cross. In the six months he’d spent working on the development of her television show, he’d made sure that they’d never met face-to-face. He’d turned down her request for a personal meeting after he’d changed the concept of the show for the third time. Hadn’t she interfered with his concentration enough?

Now they had met. Up close and personal. When the staff member assigned to the lobby door had pulled it open, she’d barreled right into him, and in that brief moment of contact, his mind had emptied and filled with her. Every soft curve and angle of that body had branded his.

The reality of the contact had surpassed whatever he’d conjured up in the fantasies he’d been having about Reese Brightman for the past several months. And he’d had quite a few.

Mac let his mind drift back to the first time he’d ever seen Reese. She’d been giving an interview for her first cookbook on a talk show he’d produced. The instant her image had flashed on the screen, the stir of desire he’d felt had been both intense and raw. He’d felt a connection with her that bordered on recognition.

But he’d never met her before. That much he was certain of. Intrigued, he’d moved closer to the TV and spent a few moments trying to analyze his response to her. She wasn’t beautiful. Attractive, yes, with delicate features and a long, lean body. But she definitely wasn’t his type. She wore her dark hair short, and he preferred blondes with long hair. The eyes were certainly unusual—large and slanted at the corners like a cat’s eyes. Or a witch’s?

She’d definitely cast a spell on him. When the camera had moved in for a close up, she’d smiled, and he’d simply stopped breathing.

Just for an instant. But it was in that same instant he’d gotten that feeling, that tingling along his nerve endings that Reese Brightman was his next project. He was going to make her a star on the small screen.

He’d nearly convinced himself that his reaction to her was completely professional when a commercial had flashed onto the screen. Suddenly, she was gone, and the sharp sense of loss he’d felt wasn’t professional at all.

Reese Brightman pulled at him in a way no other woman ever had. Instinct told him that she might have the power to pull him all the way in. And that definitely wasn’t in the cards for Mac Davies. He’d learned his lesson at an early age. Getting too emotionally attached to anyone led to rejection and loss. So he’d kept his distance.

And he’d been right to do that. A few moments ago, when he’d taken her wrists to pull her up from the floor, he’d lost all track of his surroundings. And he hadn’t wanted to let her go. If she hadn’t snapped him out of his trance, he might not have.

Leaning against the railing of the gazebo, Mac took out his cell phone and punched in the private number of Reese Brightman’s agent.

“Madelyn, it’s Mac Davies.”

“Tell me you love Haworth House,” she said. Madelyn Willard had been in the business for over twenty years and had a reputation for being smart and tough, but reasonable.

“Well?” Madelyn said. “Don’t keep me in suspense. I haven’t said a word to Reese about your idea to use Haworth House as a setting for her show because I thought you might change your mind again. Who knows? You might get a yen and switch to the Caribbean, or perhaps the Himalayas.”

Suppressing a grin, Mac kept his tone serious. “I hadn’t thought of Tibet …”

“And don’t you dare start now. I was joking.”

“Me, too.”

“Good. But I know who I’m dealing with. And for you, filming in Tibet could be in the possibility box.”

She was right. In the three years that he’d been producing his own projects, he’d gained a reputation for good instincts and taking risks. So far both had paid off. Variety had recently referred to him as a magnet for both ratings and Emmy nominations. The network that had bought Reese’s show wanted both. With Haworth House as part of the package, “Reese Cooks for Friends” should deliver them.

When Mac realized that he’d turned back to face the hotel, he ruthlessly dragged his thoughts back to the problem at hand. “Tibet’s off the list for now. I called to find out what Reese is doing here at Haworth House.”

“She’s there?”

“I saw her in the lobby not ten minutes ago.” In the flesh, Mac thought.

“She hasn’t informed me of any travel plans. Last I heard, she intended to hole up in her apartment and work on that cookbook that you want to launch with the start of her show. However, I’m not her mother or even her fairy godmother. You’ve definitely settled on Haworth House, right? You’ll use it for the series?”

Right back to business. It was one of the things he admired about Madelyn. “Yes. The hotel will serve as the perfect backdrop for the show.” He’d already pictured some of the scenes, Reese serving friends in one of the private dining rooms, a picnic on the beach, an alfresco dinner in the very gazebo he was standing in right now.

“Hallelujah! Picture me doing a happy dance.”

“Once you get her approval and we do the paperwork, I can get a production crew here to start filming background shots.” And he could do all of that from L.A. The director could scout out other locations easily enough. He didn’t have to micromanage everything. He could catch the next ferry to the mainland and be on his way.

That was the smart thing to do. The safe thing. And Mac had always chosen the safe path when it came to women. Being orphaned at four and separated from his brothers and sister had taught Mac to be cautious when it came to personal relationships. You could lose everything in a heartbeat. His experiences in his adoptive home had reinforced that lesson early on. His new parents, an actor and actress, had always put their careers first. As a result, his relationship with them had never been close. He’d always been an outsider, looking in at their lives.

On the whole, though, Mac couldn’t complain. They’d provided him with nannies, an excellent college education at NYU and access to an incredible professional network that had allowed him to advance quite quickly in a career he loved. A career in which he thrived on taking risks. But before seeing Reese, he’d never been tempted to take a risk on a personal level.

“You still there, Mac?”

“Yes.”

“I can call Reese about using Haworth House as a background setting for the series, of course. But as long as you’re right there, why don’t you broach the subject? Then you could sell it in person and not through an intermediary.”

He frowned. “You think there’ll be a problem?”

“I didn’t say that. But you did shoot three versions of the pilot before you were happy. She may fear you’re waffling again. In person, you could reassure her that you’re not.”

And he could blow his plan to keep his distance.

When Mac said nothing, Madelyn hurried on. “I’m a bit curious as to why she’s there. Even though it’s the family home she and her sisters have always wanted to build, she doesn’t go there often. Perhaps her sisters are flying in for some special event.”

Event.

Mac reached into his pocket and drew out a brochure that Tess, one of the waitresses, had handed him. It advertised a Singles Weekend. Tess had chattered on about it each time she’d waited on his table, and she’d encouraged him to attend the activities, promising him that he wouldn’t be disappointed. There were going to be a variety of singles mixing events and even a night when anyone brave enough could draw fantasies out of a box that silent film star Hattie Haworth had reputedly used with her lover.

Suddenly, Reese’s exchange with the hotel manager flashed into his mind.

“You’re early,” he’d said.

“One day,” she’d replied.

And he’d mentioned the Singles Weekend.

Then Mac recalled the parchment paper he’d picked up off the floor…. You will explore all of the sensual delights of having your own boy toy.

He’d been puzzled about it at the time, but any curiosity he might have felt had been overridden by his need to get away from her.

So that he could think. His frown deepened. He sure as hell didn’t like what he was thinking right now. Boy toy? Had she changed her plans to come home so that she could explore a sexual fantasy?

No. She just wasn’t the type of woman he’d ever suspect of being into sexual … games. That certainly wasn’t the girl-next-door persona she projected on the small screen.

“I’ll talk to her, Madelyn. You’re right—it will be best if I sell the idea in person. Now that I’ve seen the place, I think it’s essential to set the show at Haworth House. I’ll reassure her that this is a final decision. That I won’t bring in camera crews and then change my mind … and fly her off to Tibet.”

“Great. I’ll check with her tomorrow before I start the paperwork.”

“Right.”

After pocketing his cell, Mac made his way back to the hotel. As much as he might be wary of her on a personal level, making sure that he delivered the best possible show for her had to be his first commitment. So he’d stay long enough to convince her that Haworth House would nail the kind of ratings that would help both their careers.

Then he’d fly back to L.A.

That settled, he climbed the steps and entered the lobby. A buzz of conversation drew his attention to the arch that opened into a courtyard. A small group of staff members and guests had gathered around one of the tables. He spotted Avery Cooper first. As he moved forward, he saw that the manager had his arm around Reese.

It took him a couple of seconds to recognize the man on Reese’s other side. Charles Dutoit. He was one of the up-and-coming restaurant chefs in the Los Angeles area—very popular with the young movie star crowd. The man’s agent had been shopping him around for a TV show. Mac had even looked briefly at some video clips, but though the man was handsome enough, there was something about Charles Dutoit that hadn’t clicked for him.

What was the L.A. chef doing here at Haworth House?

Mac spotted Tess, the waitress who’d been so friendly to him, and joined her at the edge of the group surrounding Reese’s table.

“I’m just over-reacting because of jet lag,” Reese was saying.

“I don’t think so,” Charles Dutoit commented. “A black rose is a nasty thing to send anyone.”

Mac was tall enough that he caught a glimpse of the rose. A chill worked its way up his spine. He spoke in a low voice to Tess. “What happened?”

“Oh, Mr. Davies.” She, too, spoke in a hushed voice. “It’s the most horrible thing.” She paused, glancing back at Reese. “Ms. Brightman just arrived and she was having lunch with Mr. Cooper. There was a flower delivery for her and I brought it right out.”

The young woman’s eyes were wide when she met his. “It was this black rose. And there was a note.”

“Do you know what it said?”

She shook her head. “No. But it upset her. I heard her tell Mr. Cooper that she’d received two other notes recently in L.A. and they both came with black roses.”

Mac shifted his gaze to Reese. She was perhaps five feet away, and he could all but feel the fear radiating off of her. For an instant, the urge to comfort, to protect was so strong that he’d taken a step closer before he stopped himself.

Introducing himself right now and asking if he could help wouldn’t be wise. He’d bide his time until after she’d settled. Until after he’d settled, also. Then he’d introduce himself and sell her on using Haworth House as the setting for her show. That was, after all, his goal.

For a second time, he shifted his gaze to the black rose. His stomach clenched. One threatening incident might be some sort of a sick joke, but three black roses and three notes? Could Reese have acquired a stalker?

Celebrity was a multi-edged sword. And he bore some responsibility for setting Reese Brightman on the path to stardom. Two weeks ago, Variety had published the news of her upcoming TV pilot. Could that have brought her to the attention of a crazed stalker?

Whoa! Mac shoved his hands into his pockets. He could be jumping to conclusions. There could be another explanation for the black roses. Perhaps someone was jealous of her success, or maybe there was an ex-boyfriend involved.

Or a current boyfriend? His gaze shifted to Charles Dutoit. He didn’t know anything about Reese Brightman’s personal life. He hadn’t wanted to before now. But it was clear that she and Dutoit were acquainted. What was the man doing at Haworth House?

A waiter from the bar area moved past him and carried a snifter of brandy to Charles Dutoit.

After taking it, the man turned to Reese. “Here, my dear. I ordered this for you. Take a sip.”

When Reese took the glass, her hand trembled so much that Dutoit had to take it back and set it down on the table.

Once more, Mac found himself stifling the urge to go to her. Whoever had sent the roses had scared her. His temper surged. He’d like to have a heart-to-heart talk with the guy. Soon.

Then he shifted his gaze to Dutoit, who’d taken Reese’s hands in his and leaned closer. Mac couldn’t catch what he was saying, but there was an intimacy in the way he was talking to her that left a bitter, coppery taste in his mouth.

Anger and jealousy were just the kind of emotional responses that he didn’t want to have. Didn’t allow himself to have. If you didn’t become too attached, you didn’t get hurt.

A moment later, Dutoit walked to a nearby table and took a seat across from a woman in a wide-brimmed straw hat. Others in the small group around the table also dispersed.

Mac would have turned away then if Reese hadn’t glanced over and met his gaze. In the long moment when their eyes held, desire rushed through him, hotter and more urgent than anything he’d ever experienced before. It melted him, skin, bone and muscle. And made him ache.

An image flooded his mind. He was with her in a very small space, and those long limbs were naked and wrapped around him, trapping him. He had no choice but to take her—to move into her and feel her heat wrap around him, trapping him even more forcefully.

The sensations, the image lingered even after she’d lowered her eyes. He couldn’t move. He didn’t dare until he was sure that when he did, he’d have the power to walk away.