Page 41 of Hot Nights in Morocco
“I’ve never told anyone my reasons for taking on Global before.”
My eyes spring open at this. “Not even Cassie?”
There’s a beat. “Why the hell would I tell her anything?” Green claws start slashing at my insides as he sits up and hunts around for his T-shirt. “Pillow talk was never Cassie’s strongpoint. She was sex, nothing more.”
Like all the others?
Like me?
“Did you promise her three movie contracts for the privilege?” I say drily
Why am I acting like such a bitch again?
“My business and my movies arenotdictated to me by who’s between my sheets.” He rises from the bed as if to prove the point, and refastens his jeans with a savage jerk of his belt. “Anyway, let’s talk about you for a change. How many lovers have you had? And book boyfriends don’t count.”
“Why? Are you jealous?”
“Damn right, I’m jealous,” he snarls. “I don’t like it. It’s not an emotion I’m familiar with.”
“Two,” I whisper, shocked by his admission.
His expression changes. “Two?”
I turn my head away, embarrassed. I’m practically a virgin in his eyes. “I need to brush my teeth,” I tell him, vaulting out of bed.
“But you just brushed them.” He tries and fails to grab my arm again as I shoot past. “I can still taste the mint.”
“I don’t care, I’m brushing them again.” I slam the bathroom door and stand there scowling at the white porcelain sink.Damn that man. He’s too good at eliciting secrets from me, while all I get in return is the fine art of deflection.
Chapter Twenty-One
Jake’s long gone when I wake the next day. We made love twice more during the night, but no further words were spoken, cross or otherwise. He took me hard and dirty, his unspoken anger spilling out of his body and into mine, but it silenced my thoughts for a while.
I can still smell the faintest trace of his aftershave on the pillow and I have to fight the urge not to bury my face in it. With a groan, I drag my wristwatch up to my eyes. It’s six-thirty. I need to get my ass in gear. Any minute now, Rachel is going to be banging down my door like my unofficial alarm clock.
Swinging my legs out of bed, I head into the bathroom and catch sight of my reflection in the mirror above the sink. Messy bangs tumbling into eyes,check. Half-blissful, half-scared-as-hell expression on face,check. This thing between Jake and me is like speeding down a freeway in his black Maserati with no brakes.
I need to walk away. I’m locked on a painful collision course with my past. The press is going to figure us out—maybe not today but soon. He’s Jake freaking Dalton. The most famous movie producer in the world. His every move is a study in micro-stalking. If they dig up my name, they’ll expose my history. I can’t deal with that stuff in private, let alone splashed across the headlines.
Even if things don’t get that far, I can’t face Jake’s rejection further down the line. He said it himself—his life is too complicated to have any kind of relationship. We have six weeks left of this shoot. Six weeks of living and breathing each other in like canned air…and then what?His lust for me will dissipate like some falling star. I have an image of me being dumped outside Erizo Airport like an unwanted piece of luggage, watching as Jake flies back to L.A. to take up his media tycoon status.
Feeling more than a little overwhelmed by it all, I switch on the shower and fix my hair into a messy topknot. I’m about to step into the cubicle when I hear shouting from outside. Snatching up my towel, I rush back into my bedroom to open the door. As I do, a fabulous-smelling hunk of hard muscle hits me like a bullet and sends me cannoning off the doorframe.
“Whoa! You okay?” Max is laughing as he grabs my shoulders to steady me. His hands feel smooth and warm, like hot chocolate on a cold winter’s day, and I have to fight every instinct to untangle myself.Get a grip, Charlie.I’m practically naked and my boss’s reputation with women is more celebrated than his movies. “Knocking my assistant off her feet already, huh? That might be a record.”
“Not even close.” I gently push him away. “See?” I point downward. “Feet firmly on the ground. It takes a lot more than the physical stuff to sway these suckers.”
“Is that so?” He cocks his head at me, feigning interest. “I’ll have to remember that.”
Max is only marginally more dressed than I am, in a pair of black Calvin’s, while I’m clad in the briefest of white towels with my pale skin spilling out all over the place like fistfuls of silly putty. Thank God Jake’s not around. He’d probably go apeshit if he saw us like this.
“What thefuckis going on?”
My relief is short-lived. I turn to find Jake glaring at us from the other end of the hallway. He’s still wearing the same clothes from last night, but his black hair is damp from a shower and there’s a residue of color in those cheekbones. I glance down at his hands. He’s clutching two takeaway cups from the café opposite the hotel. That’s a first. He’s never boughtmea coffee before.
“Just catching up with my assistant.” Max grins and puts a friendly, proprietary arm around my shoulders.
Uh-oh.
