I kept my voice level and professional. “I’m just here to pick up the contract.”
Max slid down the couch until he was right next to me. I got a close-up look again at those deep eyes, and his perfectly shaped lips.
He put a finger under my chin. “I couldn’t wait for you to get here.” He leaned forward and kissed me—a soft kiss, no tongue.
When he pulled back I said, “We really need to stop this. Or…at least talk about it.”
“Why ruin it with talking?”
Was he serious? He seemed to have a smooth way with women in all aspects, so why the hell would he even hint that talking wasn’t necessary?
“Don’t you think this is a bad idea?” I asked.
His eyes left mine, and his gaze drifted down my body—to my chest, then my legs, which were shown off by the skirt I wore. “I can’t think of a better idea than you and me together.”
“And by ‘together’ you mean sex, right? Just sex.”
He shrugged. “Whatever you like. What do you like, Olivia?”
I’d never had such a blunt discussion like this before. It was making me a little nervous, but not to the point where I was going to lose my resolve. I did ask for something to drink, though, and Max immediately offered me a White Russian.
“Is that all you drink?” I asked.
He nodded as he stood and made his way to the bar area of his office. “Ever since high school. I never liked beer. Didn’t like any of the other stuff I tried, either. But the White Russian…I fell in love with it from the start and I’ve been faithful ever since.”
That got a laugh out of me. “I’ll have a water, thanks.”
“Sparkling or spring?”
“Just plain water. Whatever you’ve got.”
I watched him standing at the bar, his back to me. Today he was wearing a long-sleeved, white t-shirt, blue jeans, and dark brown boots. The t-shirt clung to his torso, nicely showing off those wide shoulders and back, down to his trim waist. His semi-long brown locks curled right where the shirt collar started. I got to check out his nice ass for the first time, thanks to the jeans, and had to tear my eyes away from him before he turned around and caught me. It was as though he’d been carefully built, painstakingly constructed by someone with great taste and a serious attention to detail.
I looked out the large windows and for the first time saw the view he had of the studio lot. From his third-floor office, I could see several outdoor sets, some of which looked familiar from movies I’d seen. Far off in the distance, Hollywood’s hills provided the backdrop. The only flaw in this view was not being able to see the famous sign on the hillside.
Max was making his drink as he said, “Just plain water, huh? I never figured you for a girl who likes anything plain.”
“I don’t like complications.”
“Ah, that’s too bad. Sometimes complications can be quite exciting. At least, that’s what I’ve found.”
Clearly, we were not talking about water here, and both of us knew it.
He joined me on the couch, handing me a bottle of plain water.
“So,” he said, “you want to talk. Let’s talk.”
I sipped the cool water, trying to figure out what I was going to say.
“I’ll go first,” he said, saving me. “Let’s just get this out in the open. We’re attracted to each other. We’re both single—”
“Are we?” I interrupted.
“I certainly am. Have I misjudged your situation?”
I shook my head. “No, you haven’t.”
“Good. So what’s stopping you?”
I put the water bottle on the table and crossed my legs. “I don’t do…this. I don’t just randomly hook up with guys just because they’re hot.”
Max’s face was taken over by a smile. “So you think I’m hot.”
My head dropped. “Yes. Yes, I think you’re hot, okay? Happy?”
He sipped his White Russian. “Happy? Yeah. I could be happier, though.”
“Listen, what I’m saying is that it’s going to take more than a few scripted lines and smooth moves to get in my pants.”
“Actually, you’re wearing a skirt. But that’s just a technicality.”
I liked his sense of humor and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“And, for the record,” he continued, “I haven’t scripted any lines for this.”
“Okay, I’ll take your word for it.”
He settled back on the couch more, closer to me. I smelled his wonderful manly scent again and almost asked him what he was wearing, but decided not to.
Instead, I said, “I’m not interested in a casting couch romp.”
He threw his head back and laughed. When he looked back at me he said, “Neither am I, Olivia. In fact, I haven’t heard of a casting couch ‘romp’ as you put it in my entire career in this town.”
“No?”
He shook his head. “It’s a thing of the past. At least, I think it is.”
“You have your choice of women, I’m sure. Speaking of which, when I was leaving Las Vegas Sunday morning, I saw you with a blonde woman just outside the restaurant.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Ah, yes. She was trying to sell me something.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet she was.” I reached for my water bottle.
“She wasn’t a prostitute. She works for the corporation that owns that hotel and casino and another one down the strip. She was trying to get me to buy another penthouse.”
“Another?”
He nodded. “I have one in the hotel where we were.”
Jesus. If he’d brought me up to his penthouse, I wouldn’t have made it out of there without giving him what he wanted. I was close enough that night to wanting it that it would have been damn near a sure thing.
“So,” I said, “are you going to get another one?”
Max frowned. “I can’t see needing two in Vegas.”
“Good point.”
“Thank you.” He smirked and sipped his drink. “Let’s get back to the casting couch…”
“Let’s not. What I need to get back to is work.”
It would have been the perfect time to stand up, ask for the contract, and be on my way. But Max’s hand was suddenly resting on my leg. I looked down and saw him turn his hand over, palm up, and he rubbed my knee with the back of his index finger.