The Movie Star and the Spy (The Secret Billionaires #5)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

“ R emove your clothing, ma’am.”

Blue eyes blinked, slender shoulders edged closer. “All of it?”

The modern-day warrior showed no warmth, no sign the words affected him. He merely stood tall, focused on the designer blue jeans, the snowy white eyelet blouse he’d just banished. “I don’t know what you’re hiding, but I’m going to find out. You will submit to a thorough search.”

“Oh, Officer?”

The man stood to his full 6’3 height. His hair was black as night, his skin tanned from the sun, and his eyes like the arctic sea. The muscles on his arms bulged. “I’m a Federal Agent, ma’am. We don’t go by officer. Now start unbuttoning.”

“You’re… you’re not going to look, right?” she said coyly, come-hither lashes belying the tentative words. A small smile puckered pouty lips. “Unless you want to. I wouldn’t mind.”

“I have to look, ma’am. Otherwise, I won’t be able to see what you’re hiding.” He flexed corded muscles. “You are hiding something, aren’t you?”

The woman edged closer to the would-be lawman. Yet instead of pushing him away, she latched onto his chest like a clutching hawk, sharpened red fingernails stabbing the crisp fabric. He whispered a frown, as she tossed her head, blond hair flying. “Cut!” she screeched.

A symphony erupted: a curse from the director, moans from the crew ? mostly male ? sighs from the women gazing at the hero with unabashed adoration.

Far from the stunning couple, a purposeful nobody in a crowd of extras, Cheyenne Kirk released a shuddering breath, yet even that reaction was a slip. As was the involuntary shiver that seemed an earthquake to her normal poise, despite the heat the excess bodies provided. How had Julian Starcroft seized her attention, like the others? For just a moment, he’d held her in thrall.

Oh, she had nothing to be ashamed of, not truly. From the way her fellow actresses heaved in air as if starving for oxygen, he affected every female of the species the same. Excitement. Awe. Desire. Of course, the several hundred people crammed into the Miami Beach set represented only a small portion of the fans Starcroft commanded with every flex of those steel biceps as he solved the crimes of the silver screen.

Now he leaned back against the oak table, one muscular leg straining the material of crisp blue jeans. A small smile played at his luscious lips, capturing the attention of everyone in the room.

It always did.

“Miss Carter!” The director’s voice boomed through a bright red megaphone despite being all of three feet away from the sulking star. His icy stare did nothing to cool the heated room. “Only the director yells cut. I excused it the first time, and the second, and the third?”

“This was an emergency.”

“What’s the emergency this time?” The director threw the megaphone on a chair emblazed with the words Spy Heat . He held out his hand and was immediately supplied with a pristine white handkerchief, which he used to wipe his sweat-covered brow.

“He can’t undress me.”

Surprised twitters hit the air, gasps from the women who could not image greater fortune and chuckles from the men who would never be so lucky as Julian Starcroft. Of course, Cheyenne did not share their opinions. No matter how magnificently he filled out those jeans.

Julian raised an eyebrow, and collectively the crowd sighed. This time Cheyenne forced herself to adopt the same starstruck expression at the blasphemy being preached. It was vital she didn’t stand out as anything more significant than Sexy Woman Extra #12 . Like all the others, she must appear to be in love with Julian Starcroft.

Otherwise, she would never fulfill her mission.

“I mean, it’s not that I don’t want him to undress me,” the star stated the obvious, and this time, even Cheyenne couldn’t maintain a neutral expression. The crowd giggled and snickered as the woman lifted a shoulder. “It’s just that it needs to be a body double. It’s in the contract ? my agent would kill me if I took it all off. You know, image and everything.”

The director’s glare froze every smile. “This isn’t porn, Ms. Carter. No one is asking you to strip to your birthday suit. He just has to remove a few pieces of outerwear. When we edit it, you won’t see nearly as much.”

“Nope.” The stunning blonde’s silky locks whipped around. “What if someone uses their cell phone camera? I can’t take that chance. Where’s the body double?”

“On the set of another movie. You agreed to this earlier, so we didn’t schedule her until a week from Tuesday,” the director growled, throwing his handkerchief on the ground, where it was immediately retrieved by a thin, bespectacled intern. The director motioned wildly, and within seconds the producer, studio lawyer, assistant and, of course, the would-be federal agent/undresser huddled in impromptu crisis control. A flurry of waving arms and raised voices commenced, and less than a minute later, the director once more addressed the pert starlet, “Fine, Miss Carter, you win. Take five. We’ll pull in an extra to work those scenes until the body double arrives.”

It was like dangling a pair of Louis Vuitton stilettos – from next season.

First, a sliver of silence as the cast members processed the words, then murmuring as they realized the juiciness of the morsel, and then they pounced . They pleaded and implored, begged and cajoled, crying the evidence of their perfection for the role. They batted their eyes at the director, subtlety and not so subtlety pulled up dresses to reveal mile-long legs and stabbed surgically enhanced breasts forward. It was the chance of a lifetime ? the opportunity to (sort-of) play leading lady to the hottest actor in Hollywood.

Everyone except her, of course. While the others moved forward like performers in a flash mob, Cheyenne edged backwards. She needed to fit in, but having Starcroft peel off her clothing was not part of the job. So what if he was 6’3, 220 pounds of solid muscle? So what if he had a deep voice that made you melt inside, eyes that invited you to drown in their depths? She wasn’t just a simpering fan, some lucky girl picked to get $120 a day for screaming about mobsters. She was aiming for a far greater prize:

A criminal.

The man in question was now talking to the director and scanning the extras. Suddenly the flaxen-haired beauty in front of her gasped, bringing a shuddering hand to her heart as if to make sure it still beat. Cheyenne looked toward the front, and this time even she couldn’t suppress a quick intake of breath.

Starcroft was looking right at her.

Not at the woman, as the actress likely assumed, but no, most definitely, assuredly her. His blue gaze bore into her, the attention that swept a million women off their feet now focused on a single entity. His regard speared her, revealing no hints as to what lurked behind those soul-searching eyes.

Look away. She commanded herself, but her body refused to listen. As if he had shackled her with her own handcuffs, she could only stand still as his lips moved. She couldn’t discern the words from so far, but then he turned to the producer, and the spell broke. And suddenly not one but all five men looked in her direction.

Not good.

Cheyenne slunk back behind the actress, even as heavy footsteps approached. Perhaps she was wrong ? perhaps they were indeed targeting the gorgeous model. Who wouldn’t choose the leggy beauty queen with an extraordinary resemblance to the last Miss America? Though Cheyenne was no Quasimodo, she more closely resembled an ordinary human than an angel on earth. No doubt she would never have gotten hired if not for a friendly nudge from the Miami-Dade Police Department.

She counted every crack on the ground, blending in as best she could to its pocked gray surface. Perhaps she could pretend to be part of the crew, an assistant with wardrobe or props or grips, whatever that was. Shuffling sounded from retreating stilettos, as the sight of midnight black boots came into focus. The voices around her hushed. Then suddenly…

He touched her.

He didn’t ask permission. In the movies he never did, and now in real life he didn’t. His hand was warm, large and strong, and he slowly raised her chin, giving her a foot to head perusal of everything . The long legs that went on and on, strong hips that led to the muscles the shirt molded, a chest as wide as the ocean. Then that famous face, like an angel’s with perfectly formed lips, sculptured cheekbones, a chiseled jaw and fathomless eyes.

“She’s the one,” he murmured. “Perfect.”

Training urged a counterattack, to fight back as she’d been taught in the academy. No one touched her without permission. Yet she couldn’t betray the cover that was her only chance to save unsuspecting women from a bleak future, eager starlets from a life of exploitation. But it was more than duty that kept her there, under his commanding power. His touch sparked fire ? it raced down her body, sending sensual heat through tender limbs and swelling sensitive spots with anticipation. The scents of nature and oak surrounded her, as her lashes fluttered downward, but still he didn’t let go. It was no mystery why he enthralled the world, commanded fame unlike any other modern actor.

“She has the same coloring as the lead actress,” the director’s voice broke in, thin and nasal, like a broken violin compared to the Stradivarius that was Starcroft’s. “The same build, too. You’re right, she’s perfect.” The others murmured their agreement as one giant sigh of disappointment emerged from the crowd. “Congratulations...” The director looked to his assistant, who whispered in his ear, before he continued, “Destiny Dane, Sexy Woman Extra #12, you are now reassigned. Your new job is lead actress’ body double. In other words… your role is to be undressed by Julian Starcroft.”

Cheyenne’s heart tumbled like an action hero stunt double. She could say no, should say no, had to say no. How could she stand still while he slowly removed her clothing? In the script, the actress did not do it herself. Starcroft did it for her.

Yet she would allow it ? for the women who were being victimized, for the promise she made when she joined the force. To maintain a cover that would be shattered with one simple negative. Unlike the lead actors, the extras’ contracts required agreement to nudity – there were more than enough willing women than to start negotiating. In other words, she had already consented.

“Is that agreeable?” Julian studied her, his steady gaze a palette of untold questions. How could she have ever thought he lacked intelligence?

“It’s fine,” Cheyenne replied, plastering a wide smile on her face. “I’m just tickled!”

He raised an eyebrow, and she fought a cringe. Had she actually just called herself tickled? It was a tumultuous start to an acting career, which was never supposed to emerge from the basement of extras. It boded ill for future endeavors, and disastrous for her life-changing mission. Could there be a way out of the role before he helped her out of her clothing? Maybe if she acted too overeager, he would change his mind. “I’m just soooo excited to be chosen! This is like winning Miss Excavator Falls all over again.” She waved her hands back and forth, furiously fanning herself as if about to swoon like some simpering Regency heroine. She inserted a loud sniff as a special effect. “I just never ever thought you would choose me. I adore you, you know. You’re the most amazing man in the country, no in the continent, no in all?” She pretended to count on her fingers. “On all nine continents! Probably on all twelve planets in the solar system, too!”

He gawked at her as if she had rocketed to one of those other planets. Excellent. Maybe a little more frosting on the crazy cake? “You’re like the butter to my bread, the boom to my backhoe. I’ve watched every one of your movies twelve ? no a dozen ? times!”

Cheyenne finished with a flourish, then stood back to view the audience. For a police detective, she had given a flawless performance. Strangely, the extras appeared to understand her musings completely, and a few even nodded in sisterly agreement. The men on the set appeared chagrined at Starcroft’s luck, and the director just seemed irritated, a fairly common emotion for him. However, the only truly important reaction would come from Julian. Would it be exasperation, dismay or annoyance ? or hopefully all three ? along with a call to find a less animated actress? With a wistful smile, she looked into smoldering eyes to find… amusement?

What the?

He clapped her on the back, steadying her with his other hand. His grip was warm and firm, fully encircling her arm. “Thank you for the exuberant praise. Clearly, you are a dedicated fan.” He winked. “Tell me, what was your favorite part of Thunder Force ?”

Cheyenne froze, the smile melting from her lips as her memory held up a closed sign and dashed away. Julian’s last action film had been wildly successful, scoring hundreds of millions of dollars at the box office, shattering records and demolishing its competition. Nearly everyone in the country had seen it ? everyone, that was, except for her. Just like she hadn’t seen any of his movies.

Not even a clip.

“I, um?” Cheyenne blinked heavy lashes as Julian stomped straight through her defenses. Had he guessed her tactics? She had to recover, and quick. “I liked the part when you defeated the bad guy!” she suddenly shouted, far too loud, far too eager. He had to have defeated a bad guy somewhere in there, right?

He was not to be deterred. “And which bad guy was that?”

“There was more than one?” Cheyenne posed before she could stop herself, then grimaced as he chuckled deeply. She had fooled everyone else; how had he seen through her ploy? “The really bad one,” she replied. “The really, really, really, really bad one. The most hated man in the world.”

The bemused expression never left his face. “That’s funny ? I’ve never heard the bad guy described that way.”

“Which way?”

“As a man.”

Well, crap.

“The bad guy was, after all, a woman .”

Cheyenne lifted her lips in a smile. Well, she tried to, but her mouth wouldn’t quite rise, and the whole thing tumbled. Why hadn’t she spent more time learning about Starcroft? Because she wasn’t supposed to interact with him and had more than enough to memorize with the intricacies of the case. Perhaps this was good. Now that he knew of her subterfuge, he might let her out of the role. If he realized she didn’t want the part, then maybe?

“Are you ready to be undressed, Miss Dane?”

Well, that was as daunting as when a perp calmly informed her he had rigged explosives all over the city. But she hadn’t a choice. If she wanted to find the criminal mastermind luring young and beautiful extras to his high paying call girl service, she would have to pretend to be exactly that. “I’m ready.” Her voice came out more breathlessly than intended, but at least it matched the character she was portraying.

Julian didn’t hesitate. He leaned down, and his heated breath fanned her cheek. “I’d ask if you were having second thoughts, but I don’t think you ever got over your first ones.”

That infuriating man. He realized she didn’t want the part, yet he didn’t release her from the intimate duty, despite the hundreds of willing women clamoring to take her place. As he led her to the front of the set, Cheyenne strode rigidly behind. She had to pretend to like it. “Of course, I’m not having second thoughts. This is a dream come true.”

“Getting undressed by me?” His drawl slipped into her blood, turning it to simmer.

She stiffened. “Of course not. I meant for my career. I’m a professional, you know.”

“Are you?” Julian let out a low chuckle. “I’d love to hear about Miss Excavator Falls.”

“Oh, it was wonderful. Lots of excavators and diggers and tractors and more excavators.” She sounded like a toddler picture book. She cleared her throat. “Too bad they don’t have a Mr. Excavator Falls. You would be the undisputed favorite.”

“It would have catapulted my career to the next level,” he rumbled. “But are you sure you can handle being stripped before an audience?”

She stopped short, causing the director to pummel into her back. She would have fallen save for Julian, who caught her, stopping her fall by pulling her flush against his rock-solid chest.

Oh, yes.

Or no. No, no, no. Being pressed against him was bad.

But a so-small-it-was-barely-existent part of her insisted – oh, yes.

Heat surrounded her, emanating from the man who held her captive. Normally stalwart senses dimmed, as her entire world focused on the body she touched all over. Her co-workers had suggested Starcroft wore padding, yet every breath proved he was completely authentic. It was like being pressed against steel ? fiery hot, organic, possessive steel.

She moved back – or at least she tried . He didn’t let go. She glared at the man who would dare capture her, for once seeing past the actor’s fame, beyond the fa?ade he showed the world, to the raw emotion underneath: desire, passion, possessiveness.

“What are you doing?!” the director thundered. Julian ducked his head, then released her so suddenly she almost fell. When she looked back at him, his mask was once again firmly in place.

She had to do something before she attracted any more attention. Hopefully the criminal she hunted would not disqualify her because of her newly assigned role. The more attention she received, the more likely he would stay away. “Everything is fine. I was daydreaming and lost my step.” By narrowed eyes and suspicious expressions, it wasn’t enough. Time to forgo every shred of dignity for the sake of the role. She pressed her hands over her heart. “My knight in shining armor, you saved me! How can I ever repay you?”

The director rubbed his eyes, but Julian’s flashed fire. A sudden unease pricked. Hopefully he would not truly ask for repayment.

“You’re going to stay perfectly still while I remove all your clothing.” His muscles flexed. “What more can I ask?”

Her shiver gifted the expected reply. She was playing the part of simpering female a little too soon and a lot too well. As soon as she returned home, she would definitely schedule some quality time at the sparring ring.

Before Julian could touch her again, she strode ahead, ignoring the scrutiny that followed her like a weighted blanket. She had been in tense circumstances before. Hostage situations. High speed car chases. Shootouts with the armed and dangerous. Yet somehow those seemed tame compared to standing next to Julian Starcroft, waiting for the director to give him permission to expose her.

Finally, they were at center stage, and in position. “Is everyone ready to begin?” The director leafed through his script, spreading his ever-present scowl. “Any more objections?”

About a thousand. Yet Cheyenne said nothing as the director gave her a second’s glance before moving on. Julian crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m ready.”

“Then let’s start.” The director motioned to his assistant, who handed Cheyenne a script. “Since we’re evaluating camera angles and not filming the final product, it won’t matter that you’re reading from the script. Just be as natural as possible.”

Pretend she didn’t want to be undressed by the muscular actor? No problem. Of course in the movie, the heroine actually did want to be undressed by him. But this was real life, not the movies, and she was an undercover cop and not a criminal hiding a weapon under her jeans. Actually, it was fortunate she had decided to forgo her weapon until she had some leads. Explaining a real gun would have been far beyond her fledgling acting abilities.

“Let’s take it from where you left off.” The director sat in his oversized chair, royal blue and emblazoned with sparkling gold letters. He picked up his megaphone. “Action!”

Cheyenne gripped the cool, crisp white paper in her hands, yet her part was as absent as her clothing would soon be. If only there was a distraction while she found her lines. Where was a bank robbery when you needed one? It didn’t have to be a bank robbery. She’d take a train holdup, hostage situation or even a fun little zombie apocalypse. Maybe the zombies could hold up a train on the way to the bank robbery, and then take hostages. She flipped through pages as throats cleared, as extras giggled and the director sighed loudly, when suddenly the script was lifted from her hands, caught in the grasp of one very strong hero who was apparently as anxious to undress her as she was to flee the studio. He deftly flipped through the pages, found the right one and held it out for her. His expression tangled challenge with a dash of confusion, not surprising since even an extra should know how to navigate a script. If she wasn’t careful, the clever man would move from confusion to suspicion and then to enlightenment, and then she’d be explaining how a movie star upended a professional police operation.

The words on the paper danced into blurry ribbons as the paper bent in her clenched hands. She cleared her throat, read her first line, “Um, please be gentle.” Be gentle?! “Really?”

Julian blinked. Oh, yeah. A real actress would not give commentary. “I mean I really want you to. Be gentle that is. Yes, exactly.”

His challenge and suspicion deepened. “I’ll do what is necessary to discover your secrets. You have to surrender.” He stepped closer, and all humor vanished.

Instincts urged retreat, yet she stood strong. She was a powerful woman, and no actor would intimidate her. “I will never surrender to you.” The script dictated anger, instead her words emerged breathless and light. A smile played at Julian’s lips, and she involuntarily licked her own. “Why don’t you get undressed?”

Yes, please.

Um, what?

She didn’t just think that.

And if she did, she definitely wouldn’t admit it.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Julian now stood directly over her, towering in Herculean strength. His power encircled her in heated waves, as if she had stepped into the deserts of the Sahara on the summer solstice. He studied her, not the character, not even Destiny Dane, but her, Cheyenne Kirk. Her mouth dried as he whispered, “This is happening now.”

“Wait!” Cheyenne pushed against that solid chest just as he pressed closer. Or rather tried to. Although not part of the script, she couldn’t help herself. If Julian was fazed by her misstep, he didn’t show it, because he broke script when he grasped her hands and gazed down at her with a wicked smile. “Time to discover who you really are.”