Читать книгу To Catch a Star - Romy Sommer - Страница 9

Christian was so not a morning person. It usually took a cold shower and two espressos before he could even think straight. So it was a surprise when his alarm sounded and he opened his eyes without swearing.

For the entire decade and a half he’d been in the movie business, even when he’d still loved what he did, every morning had been a battle to get up and ready for set.

It was getting harder these days. What had Teresa said to him the night they met? When you’ve seen one action movie, you’ve seen them all. Her words had cut deeper than Dominic’s sword blade because he’d begun to feel the same.

All the movies he’d made had begun to merge together into an indistinguishable mass. He needed a new challenge. He just didn’t know yet what it was.

He rolled his legs off the bed and sat up. Maybe the fact that he’d gone to sleep stone-cold sober made the difference. He and Dominic had gone out clubbing, but his heart hadn’t been in it. He’d left the club before midnight. Alone. Something else his heart hadn’t been into.

He must be getting old.

He stood up and padded over to the windows, flinging open the heavy curtains. Beneath him, the gardens lay dark and silent. This city had more green space than any European city he’d visited before.

He looked up. The sky was still dark but clear, with the crisp, wintry feel he so loved about Europe. And he could see stars. That was the one thing missing in LA – the kind of stars you had to look up to see.

The night sky was the only thing he remembered fondly about Los Pajaros – that vast, empty sky with the entire Milky Way on display. How many times had he looked up at that sky and wished for another life? He’d got it, too.

He hadn’t been home to the Caribbean since he’d left as an angry kid. Had it changed as much as he had? In four short weeks he would find out.

He turned away from the window and headed to the bathroom, resisting the urge to dive back into the warmth and comfort of the vast hotel bed.

Once he’d showered, he dressed in jeans and a rumpled sweatshirt, stuck a beanie on his head, grabbed his coat, and headed downstairs.

He was early.

Teresa was earlier still.

She sat at one of the tables in the elegant dining room, sipping tea from a porcelain cup. There were no other hotel guests in sight.

And on the table before her stood the double espresso he’d instructed her to have ready and waiting. He should have been pleased. But instead, the unusually good mood he’d woken with evaporated at the sight of her.

She looked as immaculate and poised as ever, her hair neatly pinned back and her make-up flawless. This morning she wore a grey, calf-length skirt, heeled boots, a turtleneck sweater that didn’t need a label to have designer written all over it, with a cashmere scarf artfully knotted around her throat.

One elegant eyebrow arched as she took in the crumpled sweatshirt and beanie.

She made him feel rough and uncouth, as if he was still just some island boy carrying suitcases and fetching drinks for the rich out-of-towners. A girl like her wouldn’t have given him the time of day then.

These days he didn’t give girls like her the time of day.

Why the hell had he said “yes” to hiring her? He should have insisted on the kind of woman he preferred – confident, sassy. The kind of woman who wasn’t afraid to show a little skin or live on the wild side. At least then he might have had a little fun alongside his espresso.

The repressed virginal types just brought out his dark side. He wanted to muss up her hair and wipe the satisfaction off her face. He wanted to see her hungry for something she couldn’t have.

Which wasn’t a good way to start the day.

He slid into the seat across the table from her and tasted the espresso. Exactly the way he liked it.

“Good morning,” she said brightly. “I have your new shirt.” She patted the wrapped parcel on the table beside her. The stores would have been closed by the time she left the hotel yesterday. How in all that was holy had she managed to go shopping between then and now?

And not just any shirt.

He looked closer at the brown-paper package wrapped in black ribbon with the name of the designer on the attached card. Anton Martens, one of Westerwald’s most famous exports, designer to the rich and famous.

Christian flipped the card over. There was even a personal message from Anton himself hand written on the back.

No assistant he’d ever had would have been able to pull that off overnight.

Tessa sipped her tea. “I’ve spoken to Robbie, the Second Assistant Director. He says they’re ahead of schedule this morning and would like you to join them as soon as possible. Your driver will be out front in ten minutes.”

“You’d make a good boot-camp drill sergeant,” he grumbled.

Teresa arched an elegant eyebrow. “Your thanks are overwhelming. Are you always this pleasant in the mornings?”

“No, I’m usually grumpier.”

“I’ll remember that.” She sipped her tea and silence fell.

He downed his first espresso and Teresa waved for the waiter to bring another. With caffeine in his bloodstream, he felt a little less like a barbarian. Not that the urge to throw her over his shoulder and carry her up to his room abated any.

The waiter also delivered a platter of croissants with preserves, cold meats and local cheese, but Christian couldn’t stomach food this early.

“You hungry?” He asked.

She shook her head. “I already ate. You should eat something. Coffee is not a breakfast.”

“Wanna bet?”

Silence fell again. The caffeine worked its way through his system, and he started to feel a little less off balance. A little more rational.

“You’re early. Does that mean your date wasn’t a great success?”

“It was a lovely evening, thank you.” And she smiled.

He leaned back in his seat and contemplated her. Smiling, she looked less stuck-up. Less like the brats he’d had to say “yes, sir” and “no, sir” to all that last summer in Los Pajaros.

“You should do that more often.”

“Do what?” Her face smoothed out into the calm, unemotional mask he’d already learned was her default setting. She unconsciously tucked back a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

He reached across the table and worked it loose again. She froze at his touch. “You should smile more often.”

He wouldn’t have believed it possible if he hadn’t seen it. She blushed as she turned her face away, revealing just how porcelain-thin her skin really was.

God, even her neck was perfect. For a wild moment he imagined himself nipping that delicate skin at her throat with his teeth. His body pulled tight in response.

“I’ll wait outside for the car to arrive.” She began to rise, but he grabbed her hand.

“It won’t be here for another few minutes and it’s cold outside. Sit down.” He grinned. “I won’t bite, I promise.”

She didn’t look as if she believed him, but she sat back down and folded her hands demurely in her lap, eyes cast down. He had no illusions it was out of any kind of meekness. He’d seen enough to know Teresa Adler was neither meek nor shy.

She simply didn’t want to look at him. Why? Other women had no problem looking. And looking. Could it be because of the colour of his skin, or because she thought he was beneath her? It couldn’t be because she wasn’t interested. That blush said she was very interested.

He wanted to reach out again and touch her, but resisted the temptation. It was growing obvious she didn’t like to be touched. Yet that silky skin, the colour of fresh cream and just as soft, begged him to touch so much he ached with the desire.

He emptied his cup and put his shades on. “Let’s go.”

But walking was an effort.

Christian’s car was a luxury grey sedan with darkened windows. She’d expected a stretch limousine, something showy and pretentious, so the understated elegance came as something of a surprise.

The driver stood waiting beside the car. He looked military, with his buzz cut and sharp eyes, though he wore an unremarkable suit beneath his massive overcoat. He held the door open for Christian, who climbed wordlessly into the back and turned to Tessa with a quick smile. “He’ll be much friendlier once he’s woken up. I’m Frank.”

As they pulled off, she called Robbie on her mobile. “We’re on our way. We’ll be there in about twenty minutes, morning rush-hour traffic permitting.”

“Text me when you’re two minutes away,” Robbie said.

This was ridiculous. Stefan didn’t buzz his office with two-minute warnings. These film people really were angsty.

They drove in silence. She was sure Christian dozed behind his dark glasses. If she hadn’t seen firsthand how much of a morning person he wasn’t, she’d have thought it to be a pretentious Hollywood thing.

Except he hadn’t looked sleepy in that moment he’d touched her. He’d looked as if he’d been stung, those mischievous blue eyes alight with interest. There’d been a startled intensity in his eyes, a focused look that unnerved her even more than his touch had.

It didn’t bother her that he found her attractive. Many men openly admired her. What bothered her was the nervous flip her stomach had made.

She paged through the morning papers that had been provided ready in the car, and when they were mere minutes away from the palace she texted Robbie.

A military guard opened the massive palace gates as they approached, and Frank eased the car around the palace building to the gravelled forecourt, where at least half a dozen trucks were parked, their contents spilled out around them. Several large motor homes stood in a cordoned-off area to one side, and it was here they headed.

Frank pulled the car up beside the largest trailer before jumping out to survey the area. He opened the door for Tessa and she stepped out, Christian a pace behind, rubbing his bleary eyes as if he’d only just woken.

Robbie already awaited them, stamping his feet to keep warm in the icy wind that whipped about them. Of course the balmy weather had been too good to last. Tessa stuck her hands deep into her coat pockets. She’d left her gloves in her car back at the hotel.

“Good morning, Mr Taylor,” Robbie said with a cheerful smile.

Christian grunted a return greeting as he climbed the stairs to the trailer. Behind his back Robbie rolled his eyes, and Tessa suppressed an uncharacteristic giggle. Robbie was a fresh-faced young Englishman, easy-going and easy to like.

“His costume stylist is already in there, then he’ll be in the make-up trailer for quite a while. Come with me and take a look at the set.”

Tessa cast a look towards the open trailer door. Christian had disappeared inside without a word so she shrugged and followed Robbie, who was already busy on his radio, letting the rest of his team know that “the eagle had landed”. She rolled her own eyes.

Robbie walked her through the lot, pointing out the make-up trailer, the mobile production office, the portable toilets for the crew and non-featured cast. Then he led her through a side door and into the palace.

Organised chaos, that was the impression that struck her first.

She’d danced in the palace ballroom many times, especially when Archduke Christian, Fredrik’s father, had been alive. Those parties had been legend, yet they’d never matched the spectacle before her now.

If she ignored the massive film lights scattered around the room, the great thick cables running along the walls, or the corrugated cardboard taped around the door frames to protect them from damage; she might have stepped back in time.

The ballroom, with its high ceiling decorated with an intricate frieze, thronged with people, all in magnificent period costume. Everywhere she looked there were massive hooped skirts, tall feathered head-dresses, and every colour of the rainbow. And that was just the women. There was more satin and silk on display than at a wedding fair.

Film crew darted between the extras, fiddling with equipment, arranging impressive displays of imported flowers, adjusting the performers’ clothes, or moving people like chess pieces on a board, their modern clothing incongruous amongst the period costumes.

Tessa wondered what time the crew must have started work to get this all ready on time, especially the elaborate wigs and make-up.

Robbie introduced her to a few people, then left her on one side of the ballroom as he was called away. She hovered by a wall, trying to keep out of everyone’s way.

Most of the activity centred around the camera, mounted on tracks that ran half the length of the room. She watched, intrigued, as rehearsals began.

Dancers swirled around the camera, parting as a young man of Christian’s height and colouring, dressed in sombre dark clothes, made his entrance and strode across the floor towards the camera, a stark figure amidst all the bright colour and movement.

Again and again they repeated the move, with Christian’s stand-in blocking his moves. The young man may have borne him a more than passing resemblance, but he didn’t move with Christian’s lightness, or have his mesmerising appeal. She had no problem dragging her gaze away from him.

“Hello, chica!”

She looked around to see Lee and smiled. He leaned up against the wall beside her. “I was hoping to catch you here. I had a few ideas after our dinner last night and started some sketches. Want to see them?”

“Of course.”

“All good things come to those who wait.” He smirked. “I’ll show them to you over lunch.”

She smacked him on the arm. “Tease.”

“Speaking of which, how has Mr Taylor been so far?”

Infuriating. Unsettling. Occasionally charming. She couldn’t pin down how he made her feel. One minute all intense, those seductive blue eyes making her feel like prey in the hunter’s sights, the next minute prickly and combative.

“He’s fine,” she said.

“He shared any confidences yet?”

If only. But since she didn’t know how much Lee knew, she simply shook her head. He leaned closer, dropping his voice. “You know that the quickest way to get him to reveal whatever you want to know is to seduce him? You’re sure to catch him unwary in the throes of passion.”

Her entire body stiffened in horror. “I couldn’t do that!” Even if she wasn’t engaged, it was unthinkable.

“Pity.”

She followed Lee’s gaze across the room to where Christian had just entered, flanked by Robbie, Christian’s stylist, his make-up artiste, and the man Tessa had already gathered was the director. She wasn’t the only one who turned to look. A flutter swept around the room. Christian seemed oblivious. With those looks, he’d no doubt had people falling at his feet his entire life. Add the athletic build and the attitude, and he was very hard to ignore.

Lee laid a dramatic hand over his heart and sighed. “If I were in your shoes, I’d so do him. He’s even sexier in person than up on the big screen.”

She didn’t dispute that. She’d never met a man who made her skin prickle with awareness like Christian did.

Christian was joined by a young woman Tessa vaguely recognised, and this time it certainly wasn’t from any late-night crime report. She was a brunette, at least a head shorter than Tessa, with an exotic Mediterranean colouring, slender yet with curves in all the right places, and a cleavage that needed no accentuation. Especially in her heavily embroidered Baroque ball gown.

Scarlet. It suited her.

Tessa pursed her lips as Christian bent to kiss the woman’s cheek and whisper in her ear. The woman blushed and giggled.

“Nina Alexander, Christian’s leading lady,” Lee said. “She’s not half bad for an actress who it’s rumoured will be an Oscar contender this year. Almost as down-to-earth as Christian and she has a wicked sense of humour. The crew are laying odds she’s going to make him wait until the end of the movie before he gets lucky, though.”

“What are the odds he doesn’t get lucky at all?”

Lee laughed. “Nil. As long as she’s not married, she’s fair game. And there isn’t a woman who can say no to him if he sets his sights on her.”

Want to bet?

Across the room, Nina laughed at something Christian said. He definitely seemed in a better mood now. Tessa bit her lip. “I hope the poor woman isn’t looking for a relationship. Christian’s attention span seems to be limited to about a week.” Or so said the page and a half of her father’s report that had been devoted to his love life.

Lee nudged her. “That’s why you’d be so good for him. What you want from him is unique. It’s not like you want to marry the man.” He rubbed his stubble thoughtfully. “Might even be good for you.”

“I don’t mess around,” she said stiffly.

The dimple appeared in his cheek. “Not even a last little fling before you settle down to marriage?”

They’d gotten to know each other well enough over dinner last night for Tessa to be pretty sure that that Lee was only teasing. In spite of the fact he never took anything seriously, she could understand why he and Kenzie were such good friends. And why he and Anna had hit it off so well last night.

He was a good listener. And he’d become even more excited about her wedding than the know-it-all wedding-planner she’d hired and fired. Certainly more excited than she felt.

There were days she wished they could just elope and get married on a tropical island somewhere. But Europe’s entire aristocracy expected to be present at the wedding of the last heiress of the noble House of Arelat, the family that had given its name to the island where Christian was born, and noses would be out of joint if she didn’t deliver.

“Well, if you change your mind, it won’t be hard. We men are such suckers for a pretty face, and you’re definitely a pretty face. And with Christian’s reputation… ”

As if he’d heard his name, Christian looked up and his gaze connected with hers, clear across the crowded ballroom, knocking the wind out of her.

He raised an eyebrow and grinned, a look so cocky and sure of his own appeal, that she had to turn away. Even if she were capable of seducing anyone, she wouldn’t give Christian the satisfaction. And she would not let him get any more under her skin than he already was.

A man like Christian Taylor could not be trusted. People like him, who courted fame and adoration, always after the quick thrill of the moment, destroyed everything they touched. She was not about to be destroyed a second time.

Now what had put that look in her eye? Christian only listened to the director with half an ear as he stared across the ballroom at Teresa. The dislike in her usually unruffled demeanour startled him. What had he done to upset her? God, he hated mornings.

It definitely wasn’t the pretty boy next to her causing her to frown, because she laughed as he made some comment.

Christian’s gut clenched.

“You got that?” the director asked. “You’re spurned and angry and about to take revenge on everyone in the room who ever slighted you.”

Which was about right. Christian’s hands fisted.

There were two reasons he’d signed on for this movie. The first lay beyond his control and he wouldn’t be entirely surprised if he had to leave Westerwald without achieving it.

But the second lay firmly within his grasp. The chance to visit both the land of the father who hadn’t wanted to own him, and the island that had been his childhood home. The chance to return not as the outcast child but as the victor.

He was here to show them all the man he’d become, starting with that prissy little PA who turned her back on him as if he was beneath her notice.

He took the starting position he was indicated and breathed deeply, focusing on the role at hand.

They walked through the rehearsal a couple of times, following the movements the director had already blocked out with his stand-in. He only gave half his energy to these run-throughs, saving his best for when the cameras actually rolled.

“Final checks,” the AD called. The make-up and wardrobe stylists fluttered around him like agitated butterflies before hurrying away out of shot. Then “Quiet! Roll sound,” the AD called.

Another voice called back, an indistinct affirmation.

“Roll camera.”

“Camera speed,” piped up the first camera assistant.

“Mark it.”

The second camera assistant banged the clapperboard and leapt out of the way.

“And… action!”

The dancers moved around him, their movements eerie without music to accompany them. Their feet stamped, their costumes rustled, but the room had that strange sound film sets had during filming, the sound of a hundred people holding their breaths, trying not to make any noise that might be picked up by the microphones.

The AD waved his arm and on cue Christian stepped forward through the wide doorway and began to stride towards camera.

It was a big, emotionally charged shot with which to start the day. It should have been hard. It should have required more preparation and more focus. It should have required him to dig deep into his emotions. But he didn’t need any of that.

Just having Teresa in the room, watching him from the sidelines, was all the preparation he needed. He didn’t need to look to know she was there, to know that she watched him. He was aware of her every movement in his peripheral vision.

Her presence sparked a sensation he’d never felt before, an uncomfortable prickle beneath his skin. Rather like that very first night in her car, when she’d questioned his worth to the world. Only now the itch seemed ten times worse.

The dancers parted for him. Waiting for him before the camera stood his co-star, Nina. A luscious little thing with dark, sensual eyes and full red lips. When they’d first met, at some party back in LA, he’d been determined to sleep with her. This movie had seemed like a good opportunity to accomplish that too.

Three birds, one stone.

Only now the thought of bedding her held no appeal. Unwanted, unsummoned, an image intruded of long pale, naked legs and white-blonde hair spread across his pillow.

“What are you doing here?” Nina asked in a scandalised stage whisper.

“I’m here to see you.”

She toyed with her gold mask, using it to screen her face. “What if someone sees us together? You’ll ruin me.”

“We are two people passing the time at a ball. How could that possibly ruin you?”

Nina lowered the mask so he could see her eyes. Though the camera was focused on him for this shot rather than her, her expression held all her character’s emotions. She was certainly a consummate professional. “Because of who you are.”

He prowled around her, a slow, threatening glide, and the camera moved with him in a long slow arc. His voice was low, only just loud enough for the microphone carefully concealed in his clothing. “And what am I, Celeste? Your plaything, your rebellion, or your lover?”

Her eyes flashed angry darts at him. “You’re an outsider. You don’t belong here.”

He laughed, low and dangerous. “You weren’t saying that when I was between your lovely, naked thighs last night.”

“Hush! What if someone hears you?”

“So what?” He stopped his prowl, stood poised at her shoulder to whisper in her ear. “I’m good enough to bed but not good enough to stand by your side in polite company?”

Nina’s voice shook, but it was nowhere near as convincing as Teresa’s had been the first night they met. “Do you even care about anyone other than yourself?”

Even with the screenwriter’s words in his mouth, the answer was still the same as the one he’d had for Teresa. “No, I don’t. Because no one else has given me a damned thing unless they wanted something from me in return.”

He stroked his fingers down Nina’s neck. Her skin was smooth and warm. He wondered what Teresa’s skin would feel like. Probably cold as ice.

“Even you want something from me, Celeste, though you won’t admit it. But you know what?” His voice hardened. “You’re going to have to get down on your knees and beg me for it.”

Nina shook her head. “I won’t.”

Though he spoke his words for the microphone, and the brunette standing before him, he directed every line at the cold-eyed blonde who watched from across the room. He released all the pent-up rage she’d stirred in him when they first met. “Oh yes, you will.”

The actress stared at him wide-eyed. One beat. Two beats.

“Cut!” cried the director, jumping up from his seat behind the monitor. “That was incredible! I’m blown away, Christian. Do you think you can do that again?”

Christian nodded.

Nina’s eyes were still wide, her mouth parted just a little now. “God, you’re good,” she said.

“Thanks.” He bent to her ear, his voice a whisper he hoped even the sound man wouldn’t pick up. “You ever want to find out how good, I’m in the penthouse suite at our hotel.”

“In your dreams.” But there was an extra sashay in her hips as she turned and walked away, and the coy look she cast him over her shoulder spoke volumes. Christian grinned. Nina was definitely his kind of woman, and a man had to keep his options open, after all.

“Back to the top,” the AD shouted out to the room, and there was a mad bustle as everyone returned to their starting places amidst the AD calling out instructions for tweaks to the lights, a slower zoom in by the camera and “why the hell is there a wristwatch on that extra?”