Page 12 of Hot Nights in Morocco
“So it’s okay for you to go around forcing yourself on women, is it?” I challenge, recovering quickly. I know that’s not the truth. Cassie was desperate for that kiss. But the intensity of the situation has left me reeling. At least it wipes the smirk off his face.
“You really don’t know the first thing about me, do you?” He sounds exasperated now and very, very angry. “In some small way I find that refreshing. In others, it’s a pain in the ass. Cassie and I are lovers. Or ratherex-lovers, no matter how much she protests to the contrary. What transpired in there is nothing that hasn’t happened in a large number of hotel suites from London to L.A.”
My face bursts into flames. Of course they were lovers. Their body language was unmistakable.
“I’m so glad we cleared that up,” he mocks, savoring my discomfort.
“Funny sort of exes,” I huff back, refusing to concede.
“On the odd occasion, I’m still happy to blur the lines. It’s just unfortunate that you had to witness it. My crew don’t tend to enter Cassie’s Winnebago without my expressed consent to do so.”
Won’t be making that mistake again.
“Who is she, anyway?”
Jake’s smirk widens. “I suggest you add it to your Google list.”
I can smell his natural scent underneath his aftershave now, and it’s triggering a beat between my thighs and short-circuiting my defenses. I silently thank my lucky stars and every constellation that it’s Max I’m here to assist and nothim.
The less time I spend in Jake’s company, the better.
Chapter Six
“This scene is completely unacceptable. I refuse to film such shit.”
I cringe as Jake chucks his script across the long glass meeting table, causing spare pencils to shoot off in all directions.
“Rachel, get me a number right away,” he says coldly. “I want rewrites scheduled as a matter of urgency.”
“On it,” she says, ducking out of the room to grab the scriptwriter’s details.
This meeting has been dragging on for hours. The sky outside is a mellow splash of red and gold and it’s long past cocktail hour, but there’s clearly no deterring Jake. The shoot starts tomorrow and he’s assembled his key crew for one final production run-through, but he seems intent on finding fault with everything. Either he’s the worst kind of perfectionist, or this man has serious issues.
When Rachel returns, he snatches the piece of paper from her outstretched fingers and disappears next door. The rest of us swap glances of relief. Everyone except Max. He’s far too busy flirting with the makeup designer to notice.
Not just me, then.I glance at Rachel as she slides back into her seat. I’m pretty sure she has a crush on him. She keeps blushing every time he speaks to her.
I’ve decided that Max is the sort of man you hate to love. He’s like an impressionist painting with hidden brush strokes—the closer you get, the more light and intricacy is revealed. He’s not just a chronic womanizer with a serious allergy to monogamy. He’s also wickedly funny, and so laid-back he’s practically horizontal. He goes out of his way to make me laugh, whereas I’m walking a tightrope of emotions whenever his brother is near. Only six hours have passed sincehecrash-landed into my life, but it feels like an eternity.
Jake reappears in a worse mood than before. He stands at the head of the table, scowling at his brother. I stifle another yawn and catch him scowling at me, too. “Charlie, what are your suggestions for reputable crowd casting companies in Morocco?”
He’s ditched my nickname, along with his sense of humor, by the sound of it. No, scrap that—this man doesn’t have a sense of humor. He had it fired and escorted off the premises a long time ago.
“Give me an hour and I’ll get you five, all verified and recommended,” I tell him. I need to stay ahead of the game here. I can’t show him any weakness.
Three minutes later he’s firing another question my way. “Do you have any issues with the scheduling for the Bedouin battle scene, Charlie?”
I try not to snort into my coffee. I haven’t a clue what he’s going on about and he knows it, too. I glance at Max, who breaks off his flirting to give me a sliver of a grin.Thanks a bunch, boss.I guess I’m on my own.
“More contingency might be advisable,” I say loudly. “How many camels are we proposing to use?”
Jake frowns. “I hardly see how that’s relevant.”
“Perhaps you could humor me just this once, Mr. Dalton?” I say, smiling pleasantly at him.
The frown deepens into a full-on scowl. He’s not sure where I’m going with this, and his interrogation game is backfiring. “About thirty, I should think. And I’ve told you before, call me Jake.”
“And horses?”
