“The part also requires the actress be single.”
Her head shot back and she hit him with a lethal glare. “Not that I see how that matters, but I am not married.”
“The location is in Europe.”
Her gaze traveled off to the side. “I’ve got a passport.”
“Let’s have dinner this evening,” he said. “We’ll discuss the part in further detail then.” He wanted the chance to show her the benefits of the acting assignment. Just a taste of what accepting his offer would involve before revealing the particulars. If she saw the luxury in which she’d be living, perhaps it would induce a positive reaction.
“Okay, sure. Why not?” she said, after a second of thought.
“I’ll have a driver come for you at six?” he suggested.
“How about if I meet you?”
“All right,” he agreed, impressed that she was so easily evasive. The trait would come in handy if she accepted his proposal. “Come by the Montage in Beverly Hills.”
She gave him one of those raised eyebrow looks that wasn’t so much about his extravagance as her vigilance.
“We’ll meet in the lobby.” He hoped his calm demeanor was enough to satisfy her concern.
Her face relaxed and melted into a smile. “Okay.”
Julian reached for the pocket inside his blazer and drew out a business card and an ink pen. He jotted down the hotel’s name and his room number on the back. “Here’s my hotel information. My cell is on the front.” He offered her the card. “My room number is on the back.”
She took it, glanced at it and slipped it inside her purse. “I don’t have a card,” she said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
An actress without a business card. Odd. But she was a struggling actress. Perhaps it came down to food or business cards. He could understand why she’d choose the former.
“A cell phone perhaps?” he asked. “In case I need to contact you.”
She rattled off a ten-digit number and he keyed it into his phone.
She pushed the empty plate away, sighed and then smiled. “I’ve got to go. I have another appointment.” She grabbed her purse and brief case as she stood.
Julian rose, out of habit more than anything else. “Well, Camille, it was a pleasure meeting you.” He reached for her hand and kissed it. “Please don’t accept any other acting jobs without giving me a chance to make a counter offer.”
If she landed another role in her afternoon appointment, that would be disastrous.
The setting sun cast its golden hue across the Santa Monica Mountains and showered the city in a honeyed haze. Luckily, the cab she’d gotten into had tinted windows, and shielded her from the glare ricocheting off the Pacific Ocean.
Camille looked at her face in the lighted compact mirror. She painted red lipstick on with practiced precision, for all the good it would do. No amount of makeup would make her as appealing as her friend Tasha claimed she needed to be.
“If you want to get the dirt on what he’s doing here, you need to entice it out of him,” Tasha had insisted when Camille objected to the slinky black dress.
In case Tasha hadn’t noticed, Camille wasn’t the enticing sort. Her breasts were too small. Her butt was too big. And her legs were too thin.
She tugged at the dress self-consciously as the car rolled to a stop in front of the Montage. Even though Tasha had told her not to, she pulled the sheer wrap up over her shoulders, clutching it tight against her chest in hopes of hiding at least one of her flaws.
A doorman appeared instantly and helped her out of the taxi. She thanked him and moved indoors.
Soren was at Camille’s side within a few steps. Damn. This guy was efficient.
“Ms. Chandler, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” He walked beside her, his hands clamped loosely behind his back. “Mr. de Laurent is waiting with a car at the back entrance.”
Nothing about Soren raised red flags; still she couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling suffocating her. But that probably had more to do with her reticence than Soren or Julian’s potential to be a threat.
She followed Soren through the lavish lobby and into a back corridor that, although toned down, still reeked of extravagance. The pair walked in silence. Approaching the exit, Soren stepped a few paces in front of her and held the door open.
Julian was waiting outside, leaning against the white limousine. Camille’s heartbeat pounded in overtime, pushing those pheromones through her system. This guy was serious eye candy, with jet-black ringlets hanging nearly to his shoulders. His hair was a little long for her tastes, but it suited him well, complementing his broad shoulders and masculine frame as if it, along with each portion of his body, had been handpicked by the gods. And those aqua eyes, they stood out against his bronze skin like Atlantic jewels.
He pushed himself off the car and stepped toward her.
Not knowing what to say, she smiled. Julian reached for her hand and brushed it with a kiss. “Chéri, I am honored to have the pleasure of your company for dinner this evening.”
Is this guy for real? An involuntary snort rumbled up her throat and she tried to subdue it by holding her breath. No such luck. “Yeah. Likewise, I’m sure,” she said, and moved closer to the car.
Julian chuckled and waved the driver off before opening the car door himself. With an elaborate hand gesture, he beckoned Camille inside the vehicle. “Chéri, I can assure you my intentions are nothing less than sincere.”
Sure, it was probably a line. But Camille got the impression it was a line he genuinely meant, even if it was fueled by ulterior motives. Julian de Laurent wanted something, and in a bad way. Otherwise, she doubted he’d be in L.A. looking for an actress on the sly. Her boss, Margo Fontaine, had made it clear it was Camille’s job to find out what.
The longer he stalled, the more worried she became. What was he up to? She drew a breath, wanting more than anything to enjoy the luxury of the evening. Nights like these didn’t come along very often for Camille. But until Julian was ready to reveal his motive, she saw no relaxation in sight.
Julian climbed inside the limo and scanned her seductively before scooting up against her. The smell of his aftershave, cool and slightly erotic, and their close proximity melted her insecurities and prompted her to consider other, more appealing activities. Activities that involved kissing and touching and....
A delicious shudder heated her body, embarrassing Camille. She was too smitten to look at Julian as the car pulled away from the curb. For her own sake, she needed to get a hold of the attraction quickly. She wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but she had a good idea it wasn’t love.