Книга - His Larkville Cinderella

His Larkville Cinderella
Melissa McClone


The smalltown girl with big dreams has finally reached Hollywood!For years costume designer Megan Calhoun has longed for someone to really notice her and, under the gaze of Alist heartthrob Adam Noble, she begins to step out of the shadows…












THE LARKVILLE LEGACY


A secret letter … two families changed for ever

Welcome to the small town of Larkville, Texas, where the Calhoun family has been ranching for generations.

Meanwhile, in New York, the Patterson family rules America’s highest echelons of society.

Both families are totally unprepared for the news that they are linked by a shocking secret.

For hidden on the Calhoun ranch is a letter that’s been lying unopened and unread—until now!

Meet the two families in all eight books of this brand-new series:

THE COWBOY COMES HOME

by Patricia Thayer

SLOW DANCE WITH THE SHERIFF

by Nikki Logan

TAMING THE BROODING CATTLEMAN

by Marion Lennox

THE RANCHER’S UNEXPECTED FAMILY

by Myrna Mackenzie

HIS LARKVILLE CINDERELLA

by Melissa McClone

THE SECRET THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING

by Lucy Gordon

THE SOLDIER’S SWEETHEART

by Soraya Lane

THE BILLIONAIRE’S BABY SOS

by Susan Meier


Dear Reader,

I was excited when my editor invited me to participate in THE LARKVILLE LEGACY, an eight-book continuity series centred around two families, a secret and a ranch in Larkville, Texas. I’ve read many romances set on ranches, but I had never written one. I figured it was time. Imagine my surprise when I discovered the hero in my book wasn’t a cowboy but a famous movie star! And the story doesn’t take place in Texas, either.

Megan Calhoun, the youngest of the Calhoun siblings, is an aspiring costume designer. She’s interning on a film set in Hollywood, far away from friends, family and Larkville. The last person she expects to befriend her is Adam Noble, a handsome stuntman turned leading man.

Setting a story at a movie studio (aka “the lot”) and in the world of filmmaking was fun, but it offered a few challenges.

The first was Megan’s costume designer occupation. My family says I’m “fashion-challenged.” I prefer to say I dress for comfort. One of the perks of being a writer! Fortunately a friend is a designer and Irish dance dressmaker. Knowing her and how she works gave me some much-needed insight into my heroine.

The second challenge was my lack of moviemaking knowledge. Thankfully a friend from college, who lives in the Los Angeles area and has worked on films, offered not only to help me but also to put me in contact with a producer and a costume designer, who were happy to answer my many questions.

I hope you enjoy Megan and Adam’s story and THE LARKVILLE LEGACY series.

Melissa




About the Author


With a degree in mechanical engineering from Stanford University, the last thing MELISSA McCLONE ever thought she would be doing was writing romance novels. But analyzing engines for a major US airline just couldn’t compete with her “happily-ever-afters.” When she isn’t writing, caring for her three young children or doing laundry, Melissa loves to curl up on the couch with a cup of tea, her cats and a good book. She enjoys watching home decorating shows to get ideas for her house—a 1939 cottage that is slowly being renovated. Melissa lives in Lake Oswego, Oregon, with her own real-life hero husband, two daughters, a son, two lovable but oh-so-spoiled indoor cats, and a no-longer-stray outdoor kitty that has decided to call the garage home.

Melissa loves to hear from her readers. You can write to her at PO Box 63, Lake Oswego, OR 97034, USA, or contact her via her website, www.melissamcclone.com.




His Larkville Cinderella


Melissa McClone






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


For Alison Thrasher

Special thanks to Julie Adams,

Mary Church, Roxanne Coyne,

Jay at Zuma Jay Surfboards in Malibu,

Terri Reed and Jennifer Shirk.




CHAPTER ONE


MALIBU, California, was a long way from her family’s ranch in Larkville, Texas.

Tension bunched Megan Calhoun’s shoulder muscles. She would be impressed with the exclusive gated beach community if she weren’t under so much pressure. She exited her car, parked on the driveway of a beachfront mansion. The breathtaking Mediterranean-inspired villa belonged to an award-winning film producer.

A breeze rustled the palm tree fronds. Gray clouds made it look more like winter than springtime, but the temperature was warm. Or maybe she was working so hard she didn’t have time to feel cold.

Interning for a film costume designer in Hollywood was supposed to be a dream come true. So far this first week on the job had been nothing but sixteen-hour-long days filled with driving, picking up and delivering things and running countless other “errands.”

Intern and indentured servant seemed to mean the same thing with production to begin next week. Sleep was now considered optional. If this was life before filming, she couldn’t imagine what working on an actual movie set would be like.

She jammed her car keys into the front pocket of her jeans, then grabbed the large leather portfolio from the backseat of her car. Eva Redding, the woman who held the fate of Megan’s internship and possibly her future career, had left the studio this morning with the wrong portfolio. That delayed a meeting with a couple of Hollywood’s heavy hitters. Now everyone was waiting for Megan to arrive with the correct designs so they could continue discussing costume concerns with the proper visuals.

Hurrying toward the villa’s entryway, her comfortable tennis shoes felt more like cement blocks encasing her feet.

No way would she let her nervousness about coming face-to-face with the producer and director get the best of her.

Failure wasn’t an option. She was not returning to Larkville. Her family might be there, but no one else. Not even Rob Hollis, her best friend for as long as she could remember; he had taken an engineering job in Austin, Texas. Her fingers tightened around the portfolio.

She stepped onto a large, tiled entryway. In the corner, a green leafy potted plant stood as tall as her. A hanging vine with fuchsia flowers scented the air. A wrought-iron tiered shelf held terra-cotta pots filled with various flowering plants.

What if film costume design wasn’t where she belonged, either? Her stomach churned as uncertainty threatened to get the best of her.

No. She had a job to do. Megan’s father had always told her to do the best job possible no matter what.

She felt a pang of grief. If only her dad were here so he could give her a much needed confidence boost. She took a deep breath to calm herself and jabbed her finger against the doorbell.

As melodic, multitoned chimes rang inside the villa, she remembered the instructions given to her by the costume supervisor.

“Hand Eva the portfolio and get out of there without saying a word.”

That would be no problem. Megan excelled at being silent and fading into the background. She’d been doing it most of her life. She’d never fit in at the ranch. Her dad had been the only one who seemed to get her and really care, but he was … gone.

A lump burned in her throat. Her dad, the larger than life Clay Calhoun, had died of pneumonia in October, seven months ago. She was on her own in more ways than one now.

The ten-foot-tall wooden door opened.

“About time.” Eva snatched the portfolio away. In her early forties with a flawless ivory complexion and jet-black hair styled into a French twist, the woman wore a black tunic, pants and heels. African-inspired jewelry added a funky and unexpected twist to the stylish and elegant clothing. “What took you so long?”

On Megan’s second day in Tinseltown, she’d learned one of the only acceptable answers for being late. “Traffic.”

Her boss’s hard, assessing gaze ran the length of Megan. Eva’s red-glossed lips pursed with disapproval. “You’re slouching. Stand straight.”

Megan did.

“Is this how you dress on the ranch?”

A plain pink T-shirt, faded capri jeans and comfy tennis shoes weren’t going to put Megan on any of Hollywood’s best-dressed lists. But her clothing wouldn’t draw any attention to her, either. Well, except for now. But she imagined nothing she wore would live up to Eva’s exacting expectations. “Yes.”

The word ma’am sat on the tip of Megan’s tongue. She’d used the term with Eva on Monday, the first day of the internship. Megan wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“I don’t suppose you have any other clothes in your car,” Eva said.

Megan had grown up on a ranch in middle-of-nowhere Texas and graduated college less than two weeks ago. All her clothing was casual except for a few of her own creations she’d never had any reason—or courage—to wear outside her bedroom. Not after being made fun of freshman year at high school for the way she’d dressed. After that happened she’d adopted Rob’s and his friends’ geek look as her own style. “No.”

“Then let’s go.” Eva motioned her inside. “Everyone’s out on the patio.”

Panic rocketed from the brown hair piled on top of Megan’s head to the tips of her canvas sneakers. She wasn’t supposed to speak, but she wasn’t supposed to stay, either. “I’m, uh, supposed to head back to the studio.”

“Not anymore.”

The cartwheels turning in her stomach would have made Larkville High’s Cheer Team proud. Not that any of those girls had ever given Megan the time of day except when they were trying to fundraise for new uniforms or a competition. “My car …”

“… isn’t going anywhere without you,” Eva said. “Come on.”

Megan stepped inside the villa. The door closed behind her with a thud.

Goose bumps covered her skin.

Trapped, except she wasn’t standing in some dark, musty, Gothic manor. This mansion was bright with big windows and gleaming floors. The air smelled fresh, flowery with a hint of citrus. The temperature was cooler than outside. Air-conditioning. That explained the goose bumps.

Glancing around the foyer, she pressed her lips together to keep her mouth from gaping in awe. To the right, an elaborate wrought-iron chandelier hung over a huge dining table that seated twenty. The living room on the left was filled with expensive furnishings and fancy artwork with huge windows that showed the breathtaking ocean view.

Eva strode across the gleaming wood floor at a rapid clip, an amazing feat considering the high heels on her shoes. “Don’t dawdle.”

Megan quickened her pace. She had no idea what was going on. Pretty much if it wasn’t illegal or immoral, she would do what was asked of her. Anything to secure a full-time position.

Eva glared back. “Don’t talk unless someone addresses you directly.”

Megan nodded. That suited her fine.

She followed her boss through glass doors out onto a massive deck overlooking the beach and ocean. A breeze carried the salty scent of the sea. The sky looked like yards of gray flannel spread out to the horizon.

The patio stretched across the backside of the house and was decorated as nicely as the interior. Seating arrangements had been set up with comfy pillow-covered chairs and chaise longues. One corner had a built-in barbecue and a bar with stools. There was even a hot tub.

Two men, who she didn’t know, sat at a table. Both wore light-colored short-sleeved shirts, slacks and dark sunglasses even though the sky was overcast.

Another man and woman, both wearing sunglasses also, stood at the railing. She recognized them from the wardrobe department. The man looked all business in his dark, tailored pants, white long-sleeved dress shirt and multicolored silk tie. The cut and line of the woman’s salmon-pink above-the-knee skirt and cap-sleeved jacket reminded Megan of a designer from Milan she’d written a paper on at college.

No one acknowledged her presence. Megan wasn’t offended or surprised. Invisible could be her middle name.

Most people had been calling her “hey, you” or “new intern” since she arrived at the studio on Monday morning. She was, in a word, forgettable. Nothing special, as her late mother continually reminded Megan, whereas her three siblings—Holt, Nate and Jess—defined the word. Megan wondered if their new two half siblings, the Patterson twins, fathered by her dad before he married her mom, were more like Megan’s brothers and sister than her.

“I finally have the designs.” Eva’s tone made the delay sound like Megan’s fault. “We can get started now.”

“Hey, you,” a male voice said. “Girl in the pink T-shirt.”

Megan looked at one of the men sitting at the table. He was handsome in a distinguished-gentleman sort of way. His tan skin and sun-bleached hair made her think he spent a lot of time outside. She guessed he might be the producer who lived here.

“Go get Adam,” the man said.

Adam? The blood rushed from Megan’s head. She had no idea who the guy was talking about.

Eva laughed. “Megan is new in town, Chas. She’s from Texas and my latest intern. One of her former professors is a very close friend of mine who has an eye for raw talent. Emphasis on raw.”

The man and woman standing at the rail looked at Megan for a nanosecond, then returned to their conversation.

Megan tried to let it roll off her. The way she used to do back in Larkville.

Here in Hollywood, she had no choice. Getting your foot in the door was all about connections. A few people managed positions on their own, but it wasn’t easy. Professor Talbott had secured this internship for her. But nothing was guaranteed. She would have to prove her worth or she would find herself back at the ranch before the annual Fall Festival in October. Who was she kidding? She might be home by Fourth of July, or worse, Memorial Day.

A heavy weight pressed down on her. She struggled not to let her shoulders droop.

“Texas, huh?” the blond man Eva had called Chas said.

Megan nodded.

He gave her the once-over, but with his sunglasses on she couldn’t tell what he thought about her. “Dallas or Austin?”

“Larkville.”

“Never heard of it.”

“You’re not missing anything unless you like pickup trucks, cowboys and the smell of cow manure,” she replied.

Her comment drew a wide smile full of straight, white teeth. “Sounds like lyrics to a country song.”

“Megan,” Eva said sharply. “Run down to the water. Tell Adam it’s time for him to join us. That’s Adam Noble, our star actor. I’m sure even a small-town Texas girl like you knows who he is.”

Megan had seen some of his movies, action-adventure flicks that required him to take off his shirt as many times as possible. Adam had a killer, athletic body still toned from his college quarterback days and a classically handsome face. The guy also had a habit—perhaps a hobby—of having flings with his leading ladies. Or so the grocery store tabloids reported.

She nodded.

Most women would call the actor hot, but she preferred guys who were more … cerebral. Guys like her best friend, Rob. Her Mr. Right, if ever one existed. All she had to do was wait it out until he realized she was his Ms. Right.

A squawking noise sounded overhead. She looked up to see two seagulls. Their white feathers were almost lost against the cloudy sky. Very cool. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen this type of bird.

“We don’t have all day,” Eva said.

Megan ran down the deck’s staircase to the beach.

Eva’s cackling laughter followed Megan onto the sand.

Her cheeks burned. Compassion and understanding didn’t seem to exist in Hollywood. No one cared if she felt like the proverbial fish out of water, overwhelmed and exhausted. They only cared that she got the job done. If she couldn’t, ten others were waiting to take her place.

Not. Going. To. Happen.

She would do whatever it took to succeed in this business. Not that she had seen any costume designs other than those hanging on the walls, storyboards and drafting tables at the work space at the studio. She’d touched only clothing and fabric bolts needed by the staff. But she knew how each coworker took their coffee or tea, what they ordered for lunch and that “Firebreather,” Eva’s nickname, wasn’t an exaggeration.

Megan’s tennis shoes sunk into the sand.

Her internship was nothing like she thought it would be. Girl Friday seemed too glorified a term for what she did. That was run errands, emphasis on the running. Gophers got more respect than she did. And she was doing this all for free … for the experience.

But paying her dues was required in the film industry. Costume designers worked their way up in the food chain. She had to start somewhere. Whatever she was doing here was better than being stuck back in Larkville and using her sewing ability to make alterations at the nearest dry cleaners. If only Rob had wanted her to move to Austin instead of encouraging her to take this internship …

She stumbled over a piece of seaweed. Sticking her arms out to keep her balance, she managed to stay upright. No doubt she looked like an idiot. As usual. She was all limbs and hair. Always had been.

A few people stood at the water’s edge. In spite of the gray sky, women wore tiny strips of fabric that showed off their toned and honey-gold tanned bodies. Megan would never have the nerve to wear a bikini like that even if the temperature had been warmer and the sun shining.

Men wore board shorts and no shirts. Muscular physiques abounded. One thing was certain. The beach was a magnet for attractive men. But she’d still take Rob over any of them, even if he were thinner with not so many muscles. He wanted to spend time with her. He was always there to give advice, offer support and hang out with. Guys like him were hard to find.

She looked at each of the men. None had Adam Noble’s trademark tousled brown hair and loose curls.

Megan dug the toe of her shoe into the sand.

Where could he be?

She noticed everyone was looking at the water. A lone surfer rode a massive wave. He did a fancy move with his board. She thought he might wipe out, but he somehow stayed on his feet.

Two women cheered. Another clapped. One man whistled.

A different woman sighed. “Adam is so hot.”

Megan studied the surfer, who wore some sort of wet suit. It didn’t take her long to realize Adam Noble was the one riding the wave. He cut back and forth on his board, across the rolling wave, doing tricks and inspiring oohs-and-aahs from the captivated crowd.

Show-off.

She wasn’t impressed. Okay, she would give him a few props for making the women drool and the men stare at him with envy. But Adam could have ridden the wave without doing so many risky moves. The guy had a starring role in a new feature film, one she would work on as part of her internship. He should be more careful, not out there endangering himself and possibly the entire production so he could perform for his adoring fans on such a big wave.

Talk about an idiot.

He reminded her of those cowboys back home who risked their lives for an eight-second ride on some bucking bull named Diablo. The guy was all brawn. He didn’t have a brain cell in that handsome head of his.

No wonder his costars slept with him. They probably couldn’t find anything to talk about with him and figured sex was an easy way to fill the time between scenes.

Thank goodness Adam was riding the wave to shore. The sooner she could get him to the villa, the sooner she would be able to get back to the studio.

Megan might be a lowly intern with only more errands to run, but she had better things to do than stand around and wait for a self-indulgent, stupid movie star like Adam Noble.

As Adam walked to the beach with his board tucked under his arm, waves lapped around his calves. Water dripped off his hair and ran down his lite three/two full suit. He couldn’t wait until summer, his favorite season of the year, when he wouldn’t need protection from the cold water.

He smiled at the small crowd watching him. Being a star meant putting up with fans wherever he went. He didn’t mind. Fans were the ones who paid to see his movies. Without them, he’d still be doing stunts and going home with sore muscles and bruises.

He’d gotten used to the invasion of privacy except for the paparazzi. Those vultures lurked everywhere with their digital cameras and high-powered lenses, waiting for a chance to capture him looking or doing something stupid. He always had to be on guard and make everything he did appear effortless.

Like surfing.

Even if he thought he would wipe out. Twice.

Adam would hate to see a picture like that plastered over the internet and tabloid covers with a “shocking” headline blaming alcohol or drugs or some mysterious woman for his fall. The tabloids exaggerated and blew everything he did out of proportion. But not this time.

He’d stayed on his feet. Once again. And gotten a much needed rush. He loved surfing on the Fish, a light and maneuverable surfboard. Few things in this world beat taking a risk, whether it was with surfing or acting, and succeeding.

As he hit the sand, three women thrust out their chests barely covered by bikini tops and sucked in their stomachs.

His gaze ran along the line; the blonde had a pretty smile, the brunette had exotic looks and the auburn winked at him.

One thing he could say … his job didn’t suck. But he wondered if any of the three women didn’t use the word like in every other sentence and could have a conversation that lasted more than five minutes.

Men extended their arms to shake his hand. Other women said breathy hellos, tilted their heads coyly and touched his arm.

He continued through the crowd, acknowledging each person. Okay, the women. He preferred more of a challenge than many female fans offered, but he was still a man.

Nothing wrong with looking.

He could invite a couple women to Chas’s villa, but he doubted the producer would want the meeting turned into a party. It had been delayed long enough due to the costume designs not being here. He should get back and see if they’d arrived.

His gaze left a zebra-striped bikini-clad Sports Illustrated–swimsuit-issue-worthy body and saw pink. He jerked to a stop so hard he thought he might get whiplash. Instead of soft skin and delectable cleavage, he saw a baggy pink T-shirt hiding every feminine curve he might want to check out. Jeans? baggy, as well?covered her legs except for white calves. Not the hint of a tan—or even a fake one—on her legs or arms.

Allergic to the sun? Unless she was one of those vampire types.

She looked to be in her early twenties. Her shoulders hunched, as if she were trying to hide or maybe had bad posture. Light brown unruly hair was clipped haphazardly on the top of her head. Corkscrew curly strands stuck out every which way. Unglossed lips pressed together in a thin line. But her eyes drew his attention.

Dark, thick lashes surrounded pretty brown eyes. The color reminded him of a cup of espresso. Dark and rich with subtle hints of something more, something deeper, spicier.

A funny feeling took root in his stomach.

He stared, captivated.

Warm, expressive … and not happy to see him.

He did a double take.

Disdain filled her eyes, making him feel like a piece of trash washed onto the sand by the tide. He knew the feeling all too well and didn’t like it one bit.

Adam forced his feet to move and walked past her.

At least she wasn’t one of those rabid stalker fans who stared at him in awe, saw his movies at least three times on opening weekends, slept on a pillowcase bearing his image and believed he was truly the character Neptune, his most successful role to date, and wanted him to impregnate her with a half human, half deity fetus. Those women scared him.

“Mr. Noble.” A feminine voice with a slight twang called his name.

Adam stopped. People rarely called him mister. He kind of liked it. He wondered which of the scantily dressed beauties the Southern accent belonged to. He wouldn’t mind playing Rhett Butler to a Scarlett O’Hara, especially one who showed the same strength as the Georgia belle. He turned.

The girl with the messy hair and pink T-shirt took a step toward him.

Her? He was usually luckier than that, except she did have beautiful eyes.

On second look, she wasn’t as plain as he originally thought. She reminded him of a Midwestern tourist or one of those nerd types who attended schools like Cal Tech or MIT and recited lines from The Lord of the Rings without a moment’s hesitation. Kind of cute if you liked geeks. “Yes?”

She looked at the sand, as if meeting his gaze would turn her into a block of stone. “The meeting is about to start. They would like you to come back to the, er, house.”

Funny, but he would have never expected her to be in the business. She didn’t look like any personal assistant he’d seen running around a lot or set. Someone’s daughter or niece? Maybe the housekeeper or nanny. “You were sent to get me?”

As she nodded, hair fell out of the clip. Curly strands framed her face. Her high cheekbones, a nice straight nose and full lips were attractive. But she wore no mascara, eyeliner or foundation. Not a hint of lipstick. He was used to women wearing makeup and going to great lengths to play up their assets and look their best. This girl seemed to have missed that memo. Or maybe she didn’t care what people thought about her. He found that idea very attractive.

“Duty calls, ladies,” he said to the women in bikinis.

As they walked away with promising smiles, the girl before him shook her head. She’d yet to smile.

Her attitude amused him. He wondered what it would take to turn her disapproval into acceptance.

“Who are you? A PA?” Adam asked her.

She tilted her chin. “I’m Megan Calhoun. An intern.”

Aha. So she was at the bottom of the food chain. But that didn’t explain the way she was acting. Her attitude and her looks wouldn’t help her move up the ladder.

“We should get going, then.” He wanted to get her to crack a smile. “I wouldn’t want to be responsible for getting you into any trouble.”

No smile, but her features relaxed. Gratitude shone in her eyes. “Thanks.”

Interesting how she let every emotion show. The girl must never have heard the expression poker face before. Adam could have some fun with that. In fact, he would.

“You’re welcome.” He handed her his surfboard. “Here.”

She inhaled sharply. As her fingers gripped the wet board, she struggled to hold on to it. The Fish weighed ten pounds or so, but it was half a foot taller than her. “You want me to carry this thing?”

The indignation in her voice made him bite back a smile. Not quite a modern-day Scarlett, but as close as he’d find on a beach in Malibu. “You’re the intern.”

“In costumes,” she clarified.

Now that surprised him. Costume people tended to dress the part. They didn’t wear their best clothes when working on the set because they could get dirty. But they usually looked good. Stylish, even in their grubbies. Megan dressed like one of the tech crew. Maybe she liked being comfortable, not stylish and fashionable.

“You’re still an intern.” Adam wanted to get a response out of her. This should do it. He grinned wryly. “And I’m the star.”




CHAPTER TWO


MEGAN’S full lips narrowed into a thin line. Pink colored her cheeks. Resentful, offended, annoyed, angry, put out. Her feelings flashed across her face brighter than the neon lights on the Las Vegas Strip.

Adam had wanted a reaction. Looks like he got one.

He fought the urge to laugh. Someone who didn’t know how to control her emotions was rare in a town where showing any weakness could mean you were shark bait. He liked it. “I suppose I can carry the board myself. If it’s too much trouble for you.”

Megan didn’t say a word. But the determined set of her chin and the gold flames flickering in her eyes told him to back off.

He did. Playing with her was more fun than he thought it would be. He didn’t want her to get angry and storm off. Not that any intern would do that if they had half a brain. Truth was, he was the star and could get away with … a lot.

She maneuvered the Fish awkwardly, as if she’d never held a surfboard before. Given the way she tried to carry it, she probably hadn’t. She looked like she might tip over.

He reached toward her, but she shrugged off his assistance. Interesting. Many women liked playing the damsel in distress to his knight in shining armor. Not this one.

Megan readjusted the board, nearly losing her balance again. She walked toward the villa.

Adam’s respect inched up. She was tougher than she looked. He liked rooting for the underdog. He’d been one himself until recently.

He lengthened his stride to catch up to her. “Being an intern sucks. But you have to start somewhere in this business.”

He waited for her to say something. She didn’t.

“I was a stuntman and a stand-in before becoming an actor,” he continued.

Still nothing. That was … odd.

Something had to be wrong with her. People sucked up to him no matter what he did. Women would kill to be in her spot right now. Not carrying the surfboard, but having his undivided attention.

“Long hours.” Adam wasn’t sure why he was trying so hard. Maybe because most women liked him, flirted with him, wanted him. He wasn’t used to it when they didn’t or how to feel about that. He settled on amused. A challenge was always nice. “But it paid off in the end.”

Megan stared at Chas’s patio about a hundred yards away, as if Adam didn’t exist. He might as well be talking to a brick wall. That was both annoying and intriguing. Women didn’t ignore him. Okay, a few did because they were playing hard to get. Megan didn’t look like that type, but he’d never put anything past a woman. He’d grown up watching his mother do some crazy things to get a man.

“Let me guess,” Adam said, not ready to give up. “You’re interning in costumes, but you really want to be an actress.”

Megan stared at him as if he were a wild animal let loose from its cage at the San Diego Zoo. A V formed above the bridge of her nose, making her look strangely attractive. “Do I look like someone who wants to be an actress?”

Her harsh tone matched the annoyance in her eyes. “Honestly, no. But you could be a method actor and deep in character at the moment.”

The V deepened. “What character would that be?”

He studied her—curly, messy hair, slumping shoulders, two-sizes-too-big clothes that could be hiding some delectable curves. Or not. “Insecure girl desperately seeking a boyfriend.”

Her icy glare would have frozen the equator.

He’d been a little too honest. Next time he’d stick to being polite. “O-kay, not an actress.”

As she walked—almost marched—away from him, heading toward Chas’s place, Adam’s curiosity grew. No rings on her fingers. Hooking up with her could be a possibility. Though she wasn’t his type. He preferred athletic women who were tan, lithe and straight-to-bed sexy. Still he wouldn’t forget those eyes anytime soon.

“So …” he said.

“I’m here doing my job, Mr. Noble,” she said. “You don’t have to go out of your way to talk to me.”

Her straightforwardness surprised him.

“Call me Adam. I’m just messing with you about carrying my board. A little Hollywood hazing of the intern.” He waited to see if she was amused. Nope. He almost regretted making her carry the board. “I’ll take it now.”

She tightened her grip on the board and sped up.

Stubborn. Adam had to admit he was impressed by Megan Calhoun’s total lack of sucking up to him. He wanted to know more about her. “You sound like you’re from the South.”

No reply.

“You must be new in town,” he tried again.

Megan glanced his way again, only this time her gaze was wary. “Why do you say that?”

Her pale skin and clothing were dead giveaways. Not to mention her ignoring him. Most people no matter what their job title and status in the industry would leech on to him, like barnacles on the hull of a boat, in hopes of getting a boost to their own careers. “Just a hunch.”

“I’ve been here six days.”

“A newbie.”

She nodded.

“First time in Malibu?” he asked.

Another nod.

A breeze toyed with the ends of her hair. Adam wouldn’t mind twisting one of those curls around his finger. He imagined her hair loose, flowing past her shoulders in long ringlets. The temptation to remove her hair clip was strong.

Nah, better not try it. She would drop the Fish. Or hit him with it. The mousy ones could be a lot stronger than they looked. Megan might not have the posture of a ballerina, but she was showing some backbone.

“They call this weather the May Gray,” he explained. “The June Gloom follows.”

“I thought the beach would be sunny.”

“Don’t let the clouds fool you, you can still get sunburned. Always wear sunscreen.” That was what his mom had told him. He bet Megan’s nose would be a little pink soon. Her cheeks, too. “How do you like Los Angeles?”

“I haven’t seen much,” she said. “No time.”

It would be hard to sightsee and make friends with the hours interns worked. No pay. No sleep. Zero respect. “If you’re ever lonely and want me to show you around town …”

The offer escaped before he realized what he was saying.

Her pursed full lips looked as if they’d been specially made for slow hot kisses. Maybe she would say yes. He wouldn’t mind a kiss. He was curious whether she tasted sweet or bitter.

“Thanks,” she said. “But I’m not that lonely.”

Most likely bitter.

But her dismissive tone only piqued his interest. Chasing Megan could be interesting. Catching her, too. He winked. “At least not yet.”

She stumbled.

Adam grabbed hold of her, wrapping an arm around her waist, and the surfboard, to keep both from hitting the sand. Her body tensed beneath his hand. “Relax. I’ve got you.”

She stiffened more. “I’m okay now.”

Better than okay, actually. He expected the baggy clothes to be hiding a soft, lumpy body. But that didn’t seem to be the case. Megan Calhoun, intern, was full of surprises and much thinner and fitter than she looked. “Let go of the board.”

“I’m fine.”

“Let go or I won’t let go of you.”

Her hands released the board as if it were on fire.

He liked her doing what he said. Playful images of the things he wanted to tell her to do to him ran through his mind. He could think of a few ways to put a big smile on her face. He wondered how her eyes expressed attraction, desire, passion.

Megan accelerated her pace.

Adam kept up with her. “What’s the hurry?”

“My boss is watching us.”

He glanced up at the deck. Chas, who was producing Adam’s new film, stood next to Eva Redding, the costume designer. Adam hadn’t known which of the three costume people Megan would be working for, but she didn’t seem the type to get along with Eva. Not that many people got along with her. “You’re interning with Firebreather?”

Megan nodded.

Damn. Adam should have made the connection before. He still wasn’t sure why he’d been included in today’s costume meeting, but at least they’d told him to go surfing while they waited for the designs to arrive. He probably shouldn’t have surfed for so long. He wanted to give his input and make this film the best it could be. Maybe then he’d get the recognition he wanted for his acting. “I’m sorry.”

And he was. Not only for having Megan carry his board. Someone who wore her heart on her sleeve would never stand a chance with Firebreather. Eva Redding wowed people with her talent, but also intimidated them with her take-no-prisoners personality. She went through interns like bubble gum. Rumor had it the last one, a young woman he’d met during a costume fitting, was let go on her fourth day.

“When did your internship start?” he asked.

“Monday.”

Three days ago. The clock was winding down for poor Megan.

Adam felt like a jerk for treating her the way he had. She must be under a lot of pressure. He hadn’t made a great impression, either. Having Eva see him holding Megan could make things worse for the intern.

He knew what it was like to work your way up from the bottom. It would be hard enough to succeed with Eva Redding as a boss. He didn’t want to do anything to screw up Megan’s internship. Best to back off so she didn’t get in trouble.

As Adam rinsed off in the villa’s outdoor shower, Megan stood by the stairs with his surfboard, something he apparently called the Fish. She hadn’t been sure what to do when they arrived at the house. She decided to wait for Adam, figuring it might be considered bad form to go up to the deck without him given he was “the star.”

The guy had some nerve.

She was surprised he hadn’t wanted her to walk four feet behind him, as if he were royalty. But Adam Noble was no Prince Charming. Not like Rob, who would never allow her to carry a shopping bag, let alone a surfboard. Well, if he surfed. Rob didn’t like the water. He was into mental challenges, not physical ones.

Still she couldn’t deny Adam’s attractiveness. His eyes shone brightly and he could carry a conversation, suggesting he wasn’t as stupid as she initially thought. But it was weird that a movie star of his caliber had bothered talking to her at all.

If you’re ever lonely and want me to show you around town …

Yeah, right. The man had gorgeous half-naked women throwing themselves at him. No way would he want to spend time with someone like her.

Insecure girl desperately seeking a boyfriend.

Surprisingly he’d gotten it half right.

She might be insecure. Who wouldn’t be in a brand-new place doing a brand-new job and after a lifetime of being told she didn’t fit in? But she wasn’t looking for a boyfriend. Far from it.

She knew the man she wanted. All she needed was for her best friend to come to his senses and realize friendship was the perfect foundation for a serious, committed relationship. Marriage would follow. Then a dog, cat and kids. A happily ever after, the kind she’d grown up watching in the movies and dreamed about for years.

The shower stopped.

Adam’s wet suit hung over the swinging door. Megan saw his bare feet underneath. He stepped into a pair of blue-and-white board shorts.

A lump formed in her throat. Had he not been wearing anything underneath the wet suit? Not that it mattered one way or the other.

The shower door swung open. Adam stepped out.

Her breath caught in her throat.

He wore board shorts. No shirt. His hair was wet—so was the rest of him.

She swallowed.

Water rolled off his wide shoulders, down his muscular arms and chest, past his six-pack abs to his narrow hips….

What in the world was she doing?

Heat flooded Megan’s cheeks. She forced her gaze up to the patio. Eva no longer stood there. Thank goodness. Megan didn’t want her boss to think she was ogling the film’s star.

Yes, Adam Noble was handsome and had a killer body if you liked that all-American athletic look. But she would never be interested in him.

Adam sauntered over, his wet hair pushed back off his face. Water dripped from the ends.

Her pulse kicked up a notch. Maybe two. She understood why he’d been named one of the Fifty Most Beautiful People.

“Thanks.” He took the surfboard from her. “After you.”

She motioned him ahead of her. “They’re not waiting for me.”

Adam opened his mouth as if to speak, but didn’t. He climbed the stairs. She followed.

On the patio, the others sat around the table. People greeted Adam. He gave each person his full attention, focusing his gaze on them, the way he’d done with her on the beach.

Her father had been called “larger than life.” Adam Noble was like that, too. His charisma captivated people. Herself included.

Adam joined the five people at the table.

“Hey, you,” Chas said to Megan. He motioned to the bar where a stainless-steel coffee carafe and several glass pitchers containing various colored beverages sat. “Refill everyone’s drinks, Texas.”

Megan cringed at the nickname. She wanted to forget where she was from. But Chas was the producer so she assumed that meant he could call her what he wanted. Given the choice, she preferred “hey, you” to “Texas.”

She headed to the bar, resigning herself to the fact her internship wouldn’t give her much costume design experience, but she’d end up with great waitress and driving skills. She picked up the requisite pitchers and refilled the glasses on the table.

“We are on schedule.” Eva had the costume sketches displayed. She must have started the meeting without Adam. “Based on our last meeting, Damon, I made the alterations to Calliope’s costumes. I’ll need Krystal and Adam for a final fitting, then we’ll be ready to shoot.”

Megan had loved Krystal Kohl’s most recent movie. The tall, willowy and gorgeous actress was so talented. Though Krystal had a reputation for being difficult on the set and everywhere else.

Adam held one of the sketches. “This is the new gown for the dinner scene.”

Eva nodded. “Krystal will look divine next to you in the Dior tuxedo.”

He nodded. “Excellent work.”

Eva’s sincere smile made her look nice. Maybe there was more to the designer than her bright red lipstick and severe personality. “Thank you, Adam.”

Chas removed his sunglasses. “Great work, Eva. As usual.”

Damon nodded. “That’s exactly the look I was going for. And I appreciate the effort you put into the new designs, but there’s been a slight change. That’s why we’ve asked all of you here today.”

Eva’s gaze bounced between the producer and director like a Ping-Pong ball during a championship match. “Define slight change.”

Chas leaned forward. “Krystal Kohl is at a rehab facility in Tucson. Her role is being recast.”

No one gasped. No one said a word, but an uncomfortable silence fell over the table.

Eva stared at the costume designs with a blank face.

The two wardrobe people looked at each other, but their expressions didn’t change.

Megan stood at the bar arranging glasses and pitchers, trying to appear disinterested. She might be a “newbie,” as Adam had called her, but this couldn’t be good news with filming scheduled to start next week.

She looked at Adam to see his reaction.

His posture hadn’t changed. He sipped from his glass of water, as if the news of his leading lady being replaced at the last minute wasn’t a big deal. It didn’t seem to be except …

A muscle pulsed at his jaw.

Not as immune as the others appeared to be. He wasn’t happy about the role being recast.

“A lot of work went into casting Krystal as Calliope,” Adam said. “This isn’t some summer blockbuster flick, but a serious drama.”

Chas nodded. “We know the caliber of talent needed for the role.”

Adam leaned back in his chair. “Who are you thinking about as a replacement?”

“Lane Gregory,” Damon said. The award-winning actress was the only child of two movie stars and America’s sweetheart. “We’ve worked together before. Very professional. She can step in at the last minute without a lot of prep.”

“She’s older than Krystal,” Adam said.

“Yes,” Damon admitted. “Lane brings a different level of maturity to Calliope.”

Adam straightened. “She’s accepted the role.”

It wasn’t a question. The tension lacing each of his words surprised Megan. She loved Lane Gregory, way more than Krystal Kohl. Lane had the reputation of being nice and down-to-earth. Maybe those qualities weren’t what Adam wanted in his next movie-set fling.

The thought of him with the talented actress left a bitter taste in Megan’s mouth. Lane was too sweet for a man like Adam. But what happened between the two actors was none of Megan’s business. Neither was the discussion they were having now. She wiped the bar where condensation had dripped off the pitchers.

Damon nodded.

Tight lines bracketed Eva’s mouth. “Krystal is tall and thin. Lane is short and curvy. We’re going to have to rethink everything, including the dinner gown.”

“You have until Tuesday,” Damon said.

Eva’s startled gaze darted from the director to Chas. “What?”

“We have no leeway in the schedule,” the producer admitted. “Adam is committed to another project after this.”

Adam nodded.

“The other talent has commitments, too.” Damon flashed the designer a big smile. “No worries. You’ve done this before, Eva. And won awards.”

“I have.” Eva shot a pointed look at the two wardrobe people, who pulled out their cell phones and started texting furiously. “I will again. But it’s either going to kill the costume department or they’ll want to kill me.”

“Don’t they already?” Adam teased.

Chas and Damon smiled. The two wardrobe people pressed their lips together as if not to agree with the actor. Megan felt herself nodding and ducked behind the bar to grab some napkins before Eva saw her.

“Tell us what you need,” Chas said to the designer. “It’s yours.”

“You don’t have the budget for what I need,” Eva said.

Megan stood.

Adam waved his empty glass at her. “Refill, please.”

She grabbed the water pitcher with lemon slices floating on top. As she stood next to Adam refilling his glass, awareness hummed through her. All that bare skin and muscle was hard to ignore. She wanted to touch him and see if he was as strong as he looked.

No, she didn’t.

The guy needed to put on a shirt. And pants. Long ones.

She tightened her grip on the pitcher’s handle.

“There goes your weekend,” Adam said to her. “Mine, too.”

Megan stared at him, confused. His clear, warm green eyes weren’t helping matters. He had to be wearing contacts. She realized he was still talking to her. “What?”

“There will be a mad dash to get costumes for Lane. That means extra fittings and alterations,” he explained. “Some of my clothes will change, too, since they were designed to go with Krystal’s.”

“Oh.” Not the most intelligent response, but that was the only thing that came to mind as she looked at him. Darn the man with his hard, hot body, killer smile and amazing eyes. “I didn’t think I’d have a lot of free time until after filming ended.”

If she was still here then …

That burst of reality helped her regain her focus. She checked everyone’s glasses so Eva wouldn’t think she was slacking off. Or worse, swooning. No one else needed more to drink.

“You won’t have much time,” Adam said. “But the experience you gain during the shoot will be worth it.”

Megan didn’t know why he was talking to her. He must be bored because the others were busy. Unless he’d taken a fall out on the water and whacked his head on his surfboard. That was the only other logical explanation for the attention he was giving her. “Do you want me to get you anything else?”

Wicked laughter lit his eyes. “I can think of a few things …”

Megan inhaled sharply. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

“Be careful with what you offer around here, Texas.” Adam spoke with a low voice so others wouldn’t overhear.

The nickname bristled again. She was happy to have escaped Larkville, but she didn’t hate the town. Okay, maybe a part of her did. But she missed a few things—her nephew, Brady, the yummy chocolate milkshakes and greasy fries at Gracie May’s Diner, her dad’s horse Storm and, of course, Rob. Megan missed him the most.

“Someone will take you up on it,” Adam continued.

What was going on? He’d made fun of her on the walk to the house. Now he was cautioning her. That made zero sense. Then again, maybe things in Hollywood weren’t supposed to add up the way they did back home. “I’ll be more careful.”

And she would be. Especially around him.

Megan wasn’t a flirt or fan girl. She didn’t dream of being swept off her feet by the gorgeous movie star or some other good-looking guy for that matter. Her heart belonged to her best friend. Or would once Rob realized they belonged together. He hadn’t expressed any romantic interest in her and hadn’t appreciated when she’d expressed hers in him. But that was okay … for now.

Her dad always said good things came to those who waited. She’d learned patience at a young age. This would be no different.

Parlaying this temporary, unpaid position into a permanent, salaried one was her priority. Rob was in Austin trying to get his own career going. But true love knew no bounds. The distance would make him realize how much she meant to him. Once she gained experience, she would be more employable, could live in Austin and work on location. She had it all planned out.

“I was talking about refreshments,” she clarified.

“I know, but not everybody is me.”

He sounded genuine, as if he cared what happened to her. That was odd, but she had to admit nice. Maybe there was more to Adam Noble than a pretty face and great body. “I’ll remember that.”

A cell phone, lying on the table, rang. He picked it up, looked at the number on the display screen, then stood. “Excuse me.”

As he walked down the stairs to the beach to take his call, Megan carried the pitcher back to the bar. She didn’t look back at Adam, though she was tempted. He was the first person who seemed to care about her beyond what errand or task she could do for them. Unless he was being nice as a ploy to get her in the sack.

No. She didn’t think that was Adam’s angle. He wouldn’t waste his time on her. Not with so many beautiful women wanting to hop into his bed.

That was why his friendliness surprised and unnerved her.

Megan preferred honesty to flash. That was how she’d been raised back at the ranch. She wished her dad could have known he had two other children. She had no doubt he would do the right thing by them, whether they wanted it or not.

But Hollywood wasn’t like that. It was full of flashy people. Total strangers whose strange world she’d step into. And that begged a question. Of all the people she’d met since arriving in Los Angeles, why was Adam Noble the one being so nice to her?

Adam stood on the sand in front of Chas’s villa with his back to the water. He was far enough from the patio so no one would overhear his conversation with his agent, Sam Tomlinson, who once again showed impeccable timing with his phone call. “Lane Gregory is the new Calliope.”

“She must have sweet-talked her fiancé into getting her the role,” Sam said.

Lane’s fiancé was Hugh Wilstead, the wealthy and powerful studio head backing the film. This movie was supposed to be a game changer for Adam. Instead of his typical action-adventure film, this new film was a serious drama piece. Not quite an indie production, which would have increased his award chances, but close enough to get him recognized for his acting ability. “Damon thinks she’ll be good in the part.”

“Definitely. But I’m more concerned what’s going to happen when the cameras aren’t rolling.”

Lane’s acting talent would help Adam in his pursuit of an award nomination. But she was also a costar man-eater, who would aggressively try to sleep with him in spite of her fiancé. “I’m not going to be her next boy toy.”

“If Hugh finds out anything went on between the two of you outside of shooting …”

“I know.” Rhys Rogers, Lane’s costar in The Island’s Eye, saw his burgeoning career come to a screeching halt after a fling with the lovely actress. She hadn’t been engaged to Hugh then, only dating. “Rhys can’t get hired for a reality TV gig now.”

“Stay away from her,” Sam cautioned.

“Hard to do when she’ll be playing my wife.” Some actors had no trouble figuring out where a role ended and reality began during shooting, but Adam sometimes did, especially if he felt a spark or connection with a costar. “Unless the script has a major rewrite this weekend, there are love scenes.”

“Love scenes are fine as long as you’re not rehearsing in private,” Sam said. “Might be a good time to give celibacy a try.”

“No reason to go crazy. I’ll tell Lane the truth. I don’t go out with engaged or married women.”

“She may not be swayed so easily.”

“She won’t have a choice when I find someone else to help me relax during shooting.”

“Please not another actress on the set,” Sam said. “Catfights will be counterproductive.”

Adam remembered the last time two actresses had gotten into it over him outside the Château Marmont. It had been flattering, but a mistake on his part. The publicity and negative vibe on the set easily could have been avoided if he hadn’t been on such an ego trip back then. He enjoyed female companionship and seduction, but he had to be smart about it or he became nothing more than tabloid fodder. No one would take him seriously then. “I’ll find a woman not on the cast list.”

He noticed movement on the patio. He caught a glimpse of a pile of curly dark hair. Megan, the intern from Texas. That explained her slight twang.

A smile tugged on his lips. At least one good thing would come out of the casting change. Her internship would continue for at least another week. Eva would be too busy getting new costumes ready to fire Megan.

The thought of her sticking around longer made him happy. That was a little bizarre given she was a total stranger. But something about her appealed to him. Her eyes, yes, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what else it might be. Maybe her apparent dislike of him.

He looked up on the patio again, but didn’t see her. No doubt she’d been ordered to do something else for someone.

Megan should make the most of her internship and time in Hollywood. She might have received a reprieve from being sent home in the next day or two, but she wouldn’t last. Her quiet personality and self-conscious demeanor weren’t cut out for Hollywood, but Adam hoped she would be here long enough to figure that out herself.

It was better for a person to change their dreams than have them stripped away. That had happened to his mother. His father had broken her heart when he took off. Since then, Adam had watched her chase pipe dreams and men. Nothing mattered to her except grabbing the golden ring—another wedding band. She would give up everything, including him, to find her one true love. Adam didn’t want a broken dream to have that same kind of effect on anyone else, especially someone so quiet and shy, like Megan Calhoun.




CHAPTER THREE


THREE days later, Megan opened the hatchback of her car. Shoes and shoeboxes were strewn everywhere. She swallowed the sigh threatening to escape. She’d been sighing too much the past few days.

Besides, she had only herself to blame for this latest mess. She’d put down the backseats to give her more room to transport items. That hadn’t worked out so well with the shoeboxes.

Megan tucked the car keys in the front pocket of her jeans.

She must have taken a few curves too fast. Not surprising, she’d been running late. Again. Driving was where she could make up time, if, and it was a big if, there wasn’t any traffic on the road.

But standing here staring at all the sandals, pumps, flats and boots wasn’t getting it done. She needed to put the shoes back into their boxes and carry them inside before Lane Gregory’s fitting. That was the reason Megan had been given strict instructions with an impossible time frame.

Eva must want her to fail. Megan matched up boxes with lids. That was the only explanation for being stuck in interning purgatory. A headache threatened to erupt.

She rubbed her temples. It didn’t help. More caffeine might. That stuff had been keeping her going the past two days. What she needed was a sit-down meal with fresh vegetables and a decent night’s sleep. Neither looked likely in the near future.

Megan arranged the boxes so she could see what was missing what. Gathering the pieces for today’s costume fittings had meant killer hours, irregular meal times and little, if any, sleep. Not just for her, but everyone working wardrobe and costumes on the film.

Talk about an insane schedule.

But she couldn’t give up. That wasn’t the Calhoun way. Her dad might not physically be here any longer, but his spirit and memory lived on. She wanted him to be proud of her.

She picked up a shoebox with a single silver slingback sandal inside. The matching shoe had to be here somewhere.

As she sorted through the shoes, putting them into the correct boxes, she imagined what awful task they—okay, Eva—would assign next. A long list of horrible, degrading tasks ran through Megan’s mind. She half laughed.

Hard to believe she was working so hard for free.

Not only working, but driving.

She’d put a couple hundred miles on her car running errands around town for Eva and company. Granted Megan would be reimbursed for mileage and gas, but hazard pay for being forced to drive on the L.A. freeways should be included.

Something silver near the left passenger door caught Megan’s eye. The sandal. She grabbed hold of it. Her cell phone vibrated in her back jeans pocket.

Unbelievable. She grimaced. As soon as she was close to finishing an errand, a text would arrive telling her what to do next. It was as if a camera followed her every move so she would never have a spare moment. Coincidence, yes. She didn’t think Hollywood was that wired, but it was still weird.

She removed her phone from her pocket, but hesitated looking at the display screen.

Please don’t make me go back to the warehouse clear across town. The one I just came from.

That had happened twice yesterday during bumper-to-bumper traffic on the 405. She’d had to drive from Santa Monica to Van Nuys and back again.

Talk about a total nightmare. She shivered.

But if asked to make that drive again, Megan would. She would smile and drive wherever they asked. She would do whatever it took in the hopes of gaining real costume design experience with this internship.

However unlikely that looked at the moment.

She placed the shoe in the box with its match, put the lid on top, then read the name on the cell phone’s display screen.

Rob.

Finally.

Usually a thrill shot through her each time she heard from him, but today she felt a sliver of annoyance. She’d been sending him texts all week, but he hadn’t replied to any of them. No doubt he’d been as busy getting settled in Austin and starting his new job as she was here in Los Angeles. But she didn’t see why he couldn’t take two minutes out of his day—thirty seconds even—to text her back.

Megan read his message.

How’s showbiz?

She thought about everything she’d been doing, from driving all over L.A. to meeting Adam Noble. The guy, or at least images of him wearing only a pair of shorts with water dripping down his tanned skin, had taken up permanent residency in her thoughts. She chalked it up to him being nice to her. But she’d much rather think about someone else.

Someone like Rob.

Her perfect guy. Even if he wasn’t the best at keeping in touch with her.

She typed a one-word reply summing up her first week in town.

Exhausting.

Everything about her internship tired her out. But in spite of the exhaustion, she honestly couldn’t think of anywhere else she’d rather be than here in Hollywood. Well, except Austin with Rob.

“So you can smile.”

The familiar male voice startled her. She glanced up from her phone display to see Adam Noble standing next to her. He wore a pair of khaki cargo shorts with a button-down, light blue, short-sleeved shirt and hi-tech-looking sports sandals. His brown hair was casually yet artfully tousled. His easy smile showed a gleaming row of straight, white teeth. He looked … good.

Not that she cared how he looked outside of him wearing one of the costumes. She slid her cell phone into the back pocket of her jeans. “Everyone can smile, Mr. Noble.”

“Adam.”

Oh, yeah. He’d told her to call him by his first name. She stared at the shoes scattered in her car. She needed to get busy.

“You didn’t smile at Chas’s place,” Adam said.

She put a pair of black ankle boots into a large shoebox. “I was working.”

“You’re working now.”

“Trying to work,” she mumbled.

Her cell phone beeped. Rob. Anticipation at his quick response to her last text surged—the way it did on the day her copy of Vogue arrived in the mail. Maybe absence was making his heart grow fonder. Megan fought the urge to whip out her phone, but that would be rude with Adam here. She didn’t want to get in trouble for texting when she should be delivering the shoes. Not that Adam would tattle. Or maybe he would …

Not worth the risk. She matched another pair of shoes.

“I know why you’re smiling.”

Adam’s playful tone drew her attention away from the shoes and on to him. “Why?”

His green eyes twinkled with mischief. “I saw you with your phone. Your boyfriend is texting you.”

In her dreams.

Okay, Rob was a boy. He was also her friend. But he wasn’t her boyfriend. Not yet, anyway. Sometimes—a lot of times lately—he frustrated her. But she hoped once he realized how good they would be as a couple everything would fall into place.

Still, who she exchanged texts with was no one’s business, especially Adam’s. “I’m sorry, but I need to get these shoes sorted and inside before the fittings begin.”

“You’re discreet.”

His charming smile sent her pulse skittering. She chalked up the reaction to tiredness.

“I like that,” he added.

His compliment made her straighten. She wasn’t used to being complimented. Most people in Larkville had pegged her as an oddity years ago. Being friends with Rob, who might be a geek but was also the mayor’s grandson, was the only thing that kept her from being an outcast.

Megan reached for another pair of shoes. Her hand trembled.

Uh-oh. She couldn’t let herself be affected by Adam. The guy was an actor, a player who had more lines than a pad of graph paper. The realization irritated her. “I don’t have time to talk right now. I’m running late.”

“You have a mess on your hands.”

Captain Obvious seemed as fitting a name for him as Adam. She searched for a red leather pump. It had to be here somewhere. “Yes.”

“I’ll help.”

“That’s not …”

Her cell phone vibrated again. Rob.

Adam held up the missing red shoe. “Where does this go?”

Okay, maybe she could use the help. The sooner she finished this task, the sooner she could get back to Rob. “In the brown box.”

Adam helped her sort the rest of the shoes. Having his assistance made the task go faster. She put on the lids, then stacked the boxes. “Thanks so much. I won’t have time to grab lunch, but I won’t be in too much trouble for being late.”

“You haven’t eaten?”

The concern in Adam’s voice surprised her.

“I’ve eaten. Well, not today. I’ve been living off pizza, fast food and coffee. I was hoping to have a sit-down meal. Maybe tomorrow.” Megan picked up five boxes. The different sizes made balancing difficult, but she managed. “I’d better get these inside.”

Boxes slipped.

Adam straightened the stack with one hand while his other rested on the small of her back. “Be careful.”

No kidding. The jersey knit fabric of her T-shirt kept their skin from touching, but awareness seeped through her. Heat, too.

The imprint of his large, warm hand left her tongue-tied. She took two steps back. “Th-thanks. I’ve got them.”

“You have a lot of boxes,” he said. “I’ll carry some in.”

Megan’s brow knotted. “But you’re the star …”

“I was trying to get a rise out of you by saying that.”

“It worked.”

“And now you’re not going to let me forget I said that.”

“You are the star.”

He shook his head, but looked amused.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I won’t be able to remind you about it too much. I doubt our paths will cross much after filming begins.”

“They call it shooting, not filming.”

“I didn’t know that. Thanks.”

Not seeing Adam would be kind of a bummer. He was the only person who had not only been nice but also offered to help her. That made Adam Noble the closest thing to a friend she had in Los Angeles. Not that she had anything in common with him.

His eyes darkened. “I was a jerk to you at Chas’s place.”

Megan drew back, careful not to let any of the boxes fall. She never would have expected Adam to own up to his behavior. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. Him. HollywoodA-lister and all-around nice guy seemed to be contradictory terms, yet he appeared to be both. “I’m figuring out that’s how things work here when you’re new.”

“That’s not how things should work.” Adam picked up several of the shoeboxes, enough to save her two trips. “Let me make it up to you.”

Once again, Adam had done—make that said—the unexpected. His display of chivalry confused her. He seemed so different from everyone else she’d met this week. She wanted to know how he thought things should work in Hollywood, but he didn’t need to make anything up to her. Not really. “You are, by helping me.”

“This is nothing,” Adam said. “Let me buy you lunch after the fitting. We can have a sit-down meal in the commissary. No eating on the run or in your car.”

She hadn’t known what he’d meant by making it up to her, but a lunch invite hadn’t been it. A part of Megan wanted to accept. She could use some company and conversation. Both were sparse around here. Not to mention she was hungry. But his reputation as a ladies’ man made her wonder if he had an ulterior motive. Maybe he was the type of man who always wanted women to like him. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”

“I might not finish at the same time as you.”

“I’m not in a hurry.”

“I might be sent on another errand.”

“You might not.”

His attention flattered her. Until Megan remembered how he’d focused on each person at the table in Malibu. Maybe Adam was the kind of person who didn’t like to feel under obligation.

“What do you say?” he asked. “Give me your number and I’ll text you when I’m finished.”

If Adam felt he owed her, her accepting his invitation would make things square between them. If he had asked her out for more nefarious reasons, she could handle it. Him. Nate had taught her a few self-defense moves he’d learned in his military training. But she honestly didn’t think she had to worry about that with Adam.

Truth was, having lunch with him appealed to Megan. Eating her meals on the go and alone was getting old fast. She was figuring out the people you knew in the business were as important as what you knew. Being on good terms with a movie star of Adam Noble’s stature couldn’t hurt her, especially when it came to finding a permanent position. She would need people to give her recommendations. His name would carry weight.

“Sure,” she said. “I’d like that.”

Two hours later, Adam stood in one of the dressing rooms in the wardrobe department. People, mainly women, scurried in and out, buzzing around him like bees as they scribbled notes.

He was nothing more than a living, breathing mannequin. Clothes came off. Others went on. His white boxer briefs were the only item that remained on his body the entire time.

A mix of perfumes wafted in the air. Adam recognized the scent of one, Chanel No. 5. His mother wore that.

He preferred the way Megan smelled—like springtime. Light, sunny, a little flowery. Not a chemical scent manufactured in a lab, but the real deal.

He was looking forward to having lunch with her. She was different from the people he normally came in contact with, so unaffected.

She’d disappeared after they’d brought in the shoes. He kept hoping she’d breeze into his dressing room.

The costumer, a woman in her early thirties named Kenna, straightened the shoulders of his tuxedo jacket. “I’d forgotten how well this tuxedo fits you. Forty-two long, right?”

Adam nodded. He’d worked with her before on the Roman gods epic blockbuster that had made him a bankable star. Her hair had been blond then, not a flaming red. The new color suited Kenna as did the vintage clothing she always wore. “Thanks to you.”

With a grin, she adjusted his sleeves. “I wish all actors had wide shoulders like yours. Suits and tuxedos look so much nicer.”

Adam would wear the tux during the first turning point when his character, Maxwell Caldecott, became the scapegoat for his wealthy father-in-law’s illegal activity and was arrested. But the tux made him think of something other than that pivotal scene—award season. He was banking on this drama, a character piece with big emotions, to catapult him into an award nominee and winner.

He winked. “I bet you say that to all the actors.”

The set costumer, a woman in her late twenties named Rosie, tied his bow tie. “Only the hot ones.”

“The truth comes out,” he teased.

The women smiled at him. These weren’t flirtatious come-ons, but genuine grins.

Adam appreciated their good humor. He couldn’t imagine the past few days had been easy on them. They both had the same dark circles under their eyes as Megan. He wondered what she was doing right now.

“Turn,” Rosie said.

He did.

“Now for the accessories.” Kenna glanced at her clipboard. “We’ve changed a couple of things so they wouldn’t clash with Lane’s costumes. She’s not a big fan of gold.”

Rosie glanced in a marked container. “Speaking of which, where is the new wedding band?”

“Eva had it earlier,” Kenna said.

Rosie sent a text. “We’ll have it in a minute. Once we get Eva’s approval on this ensemble, you can go.”

Kenna nodded. “We’ll tag the items, then it’s time for a much needed lunch break.”

Her words made him think about Megan again. He thought she would say no to his invitation, but he was pleased she hadn’t. Buying her lunch would make up for the way he’d teased her at Chas’s house.

As if on cue, Megan entered the dressing area with a small ring box in her hands. She didn’t look at him.

All business. Adam’s grin widened. Well, except for her casual clothes. She’d removed her jacket. She was wearing the same baggy pink T-shirt and jeans she’d worn at the beach. Her wild, curly brown hair was piled and clipped on top of her head once again. But the earrings were new. She hadn’t worn jewelry before. Add a pair of smart-girl glasses and she really would have the geek-chic look down. Her cheeks were flushed pink, as if she were exercising. Most likely running errands.

“You have Maxwell’s ring?” Kenna asked.

Megan nodded. “Eva said there are extra cuff links if you need them.”

Kenna glanced at the clipboard. “We’re using the silver ones with the diamond chips.”

Adam noticed Megan seemed more comfortable here than at the beach house and less agitated than at her car earlier. Not only her demeanor, but her posture and voice. Except for the way she was dressed, she fit right in.

“Show Adam the ring,” Kenna instructed.

Megan shuffled forward, her feet encased in white canvas sneakers. She looked a little pale, more tired than when he’d seen her earlier. No doubt hungry, too.

“Our paths cross again, Texas,” Adam said.

Lines creased Rosie’s forehead. Her gaze bounced between them. “You two know each other?”

“We met at Chas’s house a few days ago,” Adam explained.

Gossip spread like wildfire on sets. He watched what he said around the crew. Not that anything was going on with the intern. Or any other woman at the moment. Unfortunately.

“I had to take Eva the right portfolio,” Megan explained.

Rosie sighed. “The day our lives ended.”

Kenna nodded.

Megan removed a platinum-and-diamond ring from the box. Light reflected off the row of diamonds, sending colorful prisms dancing on the walls and ceiling.

Whoa. Adam wouldn’t wear that kind of ring in real life, but he could see his character Maxwell wanting something flashy like that. “That’s fancier than the original gold band I was going to wear.”

“Lane picked it out,” Kenna explained. “She felt since she’s playing the role of your wife, she should decide what kind of wedding band Maxwell wears.”

“So Maxwell is into bling now,” Adam teased.

“He will be once you’re wearing it,” Kenna said. “Put it on his left ring finger, Texas.”

Megan’s eyes widened at the nickname, and not in a good way. Oops.

He expected her to say something to Kenna, but Megan didn’t. Damn. She couldn’t. Not as an intern. She didn’t dare risk stepping on toes around here.

One more strike against him. More to make up to her. Adam would force her to order dessert. Something chocolate. Most women, even chronic dieters, loved chocolate.

Megan held the ring between her index and thumb. “Left hand, please.”

Her serious expression, coupled with her slight Texas twang, made Adam bite back a laugh. She was trying so hard to be professional when it looked like what she really needed was a decent meal, a big hug and a comfy pillow to rest her head. He’d offered the first. He wouldn’t mind providing all three.





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