Page 76 of Hot Nights in Morocco
Yes, he’s good at that. I remember him exercising that particular sentiment over me in the lobby of his mansion in L.A. What I wouldn’t give to feel his hands on me now, bending my body to his will, satisfying every part of me…
“You okay?” Brad’s stopped, and he’s frowning down at me again.
Somehow I force the images from my mind. “Can I ask you something? It might seem a little—”
“Weird?” He laughs, breaking the tension. “Honey, we just bailed on a reservation at one of the best restaurants in London. I left a thousand dollar bottle ofSaint-Emilionhalf drunk on the table. This night couldn’tgetany weirder.”
Shit, I’m turning into my mother. She’s the profligate one, not me.
He cocks an eyebrow and waits for a beat. “So? You gonna enlighten me?”
I hesitate. “It’s kind of personal too.”
“I reckon I can handle it.”
“Okay then, why did Jake’s father give up control of his studios to the same man who ran off with his wife?”
Brad’s reaction is as I expected. He straightens his back and his good humor vanishes. “It’s always been Pa’s company by reputation,” he says stiffly. “He’s the one who built it up.”
Didn’t Rachel imply that it was Jake’s father who had been the business genius?
I open my mouth to contradict him but he beats me to it, whirling around to face me, indigos flashing. Drawing me in like a lighthouse and dashing me on his rocks.
“You should work for me. My offer still stands, you know.”
My reply is interrupted by a mob of tourists pushing past. I lose my footing as I’m shoved backward into a dirty red telephone box.
Brad chuckles and reaches out to grab my arm. “I won’t keep you in the shadows like Jake did. If you wanna produce movies, I’ll let you. Come be my assistant first. What d’ya say?”
Pandora’s box has never been this tempting. The job is perfect. I can’t believe my luck. Even so, it’s one that is bursting with doubt and recrimination. Working for him will mean seeing Jake again,workingalongside Jake again, and the thought of that makes my stomach churn. These two men hate one another. Jake will see it as the ultimate betrayal.
“What if he closes down the London shoot for good?” I’m grappling for excuses not to accept.
“Then we’ll figure out something else. To hell with Jake. Just because he screwed you in Morocco, doesn’t mean he gets to screw over your career, too.”
I wince at Brad’s words. They’re too overfamiliar. Too coarse. Another flicker of doubt crosses my mind. Jake was so insistent that I should never work with Brad…
“Don’t think so much,” he says softly, drawing me close as another group of tourists pummel past. “Do what your heart is telling you.”
I breathe in his energy and his strength, and I wish I could steal a part of it. As for my heart? It’s telling me to go where Jake is, no matter the cost.
My decision is clear.
“When do I start?” I say, smiling back at Brad.
Chapter Forty-Three
I have my answer at seven a.m. the next day. Brad calls me as I’m climbing out of the shower. “Honey, we need you. We’re back shooting on the South Bank for the next two weeks.”
“I thought production was suspended?” With wet hair streaming down my back, I nestle the phone in the crook of my neck and reach for my toothbrush.
“Jake did a surprise U-turn last night. He’s still sending someone out to oversee, but production is good to go. We’re half a day behind and it’s panic stations. Are you up for the challenge?”
“Yes!” I drop my toothbrush and start scrabbling around for my black jeans in the laundry basket. “What do you need me to do?”
“Head to Soho and meet with our director, Ryan Ramirez. He’s mega talented and famous, but tricky as hell. He insists on walking partway to location everyday and he needs someone from production to hold his hand.”
“Can’t we just buy him a GPS?”
