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

Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

J ulian always delved deep into his characters, not simply portraying them but becoming them, bringing the characters to life. It could be difficult at times, to pretend to be someone so different from truth, yet in this case, he needed no effort and no tricks. There was no acting – he wanted to explore this woman, and not just physically. No, he wanted her .

Of course, no one could deny her attractiveness. With long blond tresses, creamy skin and a petite stature, she looked like an old-time movie star, a pin-up of yesteryear. Her skin was clear and slightly pinkened, her limbs slender yet toned, and she held enticing curves that dipped in all the right places. In a room full of beautiful actresses, she was extraordinary .

At least two dozen extras possessed similar enough features to fill the role, yet something compelled him to pick her. She had arrived a few days ago, later than the rest, and the fact that he noticed was strange enough. There was something different about her, something stronger, something substantial. In a crowd of preening swans, she stood out as an eagle. The gaze in her eyes bespoke a rare intelligence, especially when he caught her watching others, something she did with great frequency.

Her behavior was a mystery in other ways, too. When she talked to her fellow extras she changed completely, turning coy, silly and downright flirtatious. He had been an accomplished actor far too long not to recognize a poor one, and she had been acting. She hadn’t seen his movies, at least not Thunder Force . Despite her words, she did not want the role every extra clamored for, the position that could gain her notoriety and a break to her career. Yet she also didn’t want to directly refuse. It didn’t make sense. He might be an action star, but he loved mysteries. Even more, he loved solving them.

Now she stood before him, watching him watch her. It was time for her to accept her new role, and he would discover her true one. A burst of satisfaction sparked as he moved toward her, embarking on a journey to discover the truth…

He would uncover the real Destiny Dane.

Breathe. Cheyenne reminded herself several dozen times as Julian stalked ever closer. The script slipped from her grasp, but the director hissed, “Keep going! Don’t worry about the script ? just follow Starcroft’s lead!”

Cheyenne locked eyes with the movie star. His flashed as if lit by cobalt fire. “No more waiting,” he murmured. “It’s time.”

Cheyenne had to physically bite her lip to stop the indignant reply the words deserved. Although she didn’t know the correct lines, the character’s response was obvious. She gave a quick, jerky nod.

“Don’t move.”

She was far more accustomed to giving commands than receiving them. But her surrender was in the script – she had no choice but to follow along.

His hand plucked a spaghetti strap.

You can do this. You’ve faced armed murderers, drug dealers and crime families, you can face a powerful actor who simply wants to undress you. Surely it can’t be worse than the crime families.

He pulled the spaghetti strap down.

Okay, not much worse.

“Now reach for him!” the director yelled.

Yes, much worse.

The exchange wasn’t one sided. Her character wanted him as much as he wanted her. So she opened her palms and splayed them on the raw steel of his expansive chest. He was solid and heated and firm, and the muscles jumped under her touch. And then… she squeezed.

That’s right, she squeezed the famous actor’s chest.

He stared.

She stared.

He narrowed his eyes.

She narrowed her eyes.

He edged closer.

She squeezed again .

“Don’t stop,” the director hissed. “You’re doing great. What else do you want to do to him?”

Touch him. Rub him. Press closer. All of the above.

What was she doing? She was supposed to be slapping handcuffs on a master pimp hawking innocent girls, not standing under a domineering actor.

“Are you going to cooperate?” As if he sensed her challenge, Julian murmured, his voice a lesson of satisfaction. Was that in the script? “If you don’t respond, I’ll have to treat you as a hostile witness, and protocol will require additional measures.”

Additional measures? Red sparks distorted her vision. By the story’s path, she could only respond one way. “Yes.” Clenched teeth allowed only a hiss, and it lingered in the air, the slight sound belying its tumultuous impact.

Triumph reined in the actor’s gaze, so genuine that for a second Cheyenne believed it to be real. But of course it wasn’t – he was simply playing a part. “Excellent.” He directed her hand to her side but didn’t return to the spaghetti strap. Thank goodness. Only then… he grasped the bottom of her shirt instead. “This will be more effective.”

This time no relief would come. She stood still as he raised his hands, and with it her shirt. Cheyenne jumped, pushing forward ever-so-slightly, enough his hands accidentally grazed her breast. Her nipples puckered, and his hand stilled. Had he felt it? He must have, as his pupils dilated to topaz shards. Her breasts were heavy and tender, her body heated and flushed. His hands lingered – would he ever move them? Finally he did, but then the cool air hit her stomach, a stark reminder of the current situation:

The entire studio could see her straining breasts, hidden only by a lacy black bra. She was breathing like she’d just run a twelve hour marathon. And Julian had a front row view.

“Touch him!” the director commanded, as the captive audience leaned forward as one. “Let him know how much you want him.”

Did she want him?

Um, a lot.

Like, a lot a lot.

Like, she was going to get fired if she didn’t start paying attention to anything but those muscles a lot.

Like, those muscles really were admirable and hard and she’d like to – stop – a lot.

So she splayed her hands wider against the metal masquerading as a chest – because the director wanted her to. And she traced the valleys and contours of a pectoral paradise – because the director wanted her to. And she squeezed that smooth skin – because she wanted to.

His nostrils flared as he lowered his gaze to her breasts. Then Cheyenne couldn’t see him as he brought the shirt up over her head, blocking her view and expanding his. Her own hot breath surrounded and suffocated her, locked in the confinement of the tight spandex cotton, stifling her as she gasped for fresh oxygen. Then the shirt was gone, lifted high above her head, and she heaved in a great gulp of air. Julian stood above her, pupils wide with blazing blackness, examining her uncovered state. Fate’s ironic twist bespoke the desired response ? damsel in distress ? yet she was no actor. Did he realize how sincere her response was?

His slightly wicked and altogether amused regard proved he did.

“This doesn’t have to be bad,” he whispered. Was he reading from the script or talking directly to her? She could no longer tell. “If you just relax and accept, it’ll be fine. Pleasurable even.”

Pleasurable?

Pleasure had never been mentioned by the hundreds of suspects she’d professionally searched in her career. Specific procedures dictated every movement to minimize personal disturbances and invasions, yet now those were the goal. It was disconcerting, strange and a million other things, but pleasurable? No, definitely, one hundred percent not. Well, perhaps 99%.

The script didn’t call for defiance, yet that’s exactly what she gave, not with words but by standing straight and meeting his gaze. Unfortunately, the stance caused her to jut out just a little further, in a way that sharpened his onslaught. “Are you hiding a weapon?” His voice boomed loud enough for the microphones to pick up. My God, she was fighting for the pride of womanhood, and he was simply following a script. “You will share all.”

“Say something!” the director hissed. “I don’t care what you say ? just go with it.”

If he wanted a response, he would get it. Logic and reason boarded a plane for vacation, as she ignored the plot and responded naturally, “I will not. You don’t affect me at all.”

“I don’t?” Biceps flexed… a response to a challenge? “Not even a little bit?”

She stood up straighter. “Not even a little bit.”

“So you’re okay if we continue?”

“Of course, I’m okay,” she forced out fighting words through an arid throat. “In fact, I’m more than okay. I want you to continue.”

Wait, what?

She didn’t mean it, of course. It was just a performance. Obviously, he understood.

The fire blazing in his eyes gave the answer.

How could she turn it around? She needed something that fit with the scene. “To prove I have nothing to hide!” she shot out triumphantly. He smiled wolfishly, and she bit back a matching growl. The words were right, yet her tone proved their worthlessness. It was the character she was supposed to play, so what was the problem?

Problem: Now he knew how much he affected her.

“Let’s get this over with,” she said in a much calmer voice. “As I said, I have nothing to hide.”

“No?” His gaze painted fire on her skin, lingering, branding, possessing. This wasn’t real life, and he wasn’t a real cop – the disrobement had nothing to do with actual police business and everything to do with sexual tension. Thank goodness this was an action flick and not a porn.

“When will we be done?” The words emerged before she could stop them, as she waited for a “cut” that never came. If the police thing didn’t work out, perhaps she could start a career as a body double.

Julian didn’t respond with words. He tugged on the waistband of her jeans. pulling her closer and invading her personal space with his towering presence. Those muscles weren’t props, nor was his power. She was accustomed to being in control, with him she was anything but.

He brushed her legs. Cheyenne closed her eyes as the cool air elicited tiny pinprick goosebumps on her skin. In a real search, they touched as little as possible, but here, Julian left no place unscathed. He brushed her inner thighs as he lowered the pants, running his hands along the entire length of her legs as he freed them. He reached the bottom and pulled gently up on her foot. As he lifted a leg off the ground, she fought for balance but lost, flailing her arms briefly before grabbing the closest thing for support. Him.

“Don’t move,” he commanded.

Being looked at was one thing, but actually being touched, patted down, caressed? But it was part of the scene, and she had no choice. As he loomed ever nearer, she closed her eyes. Then…

“Cut!”

Cheyenne exhaled shuddering air, sagging like a prisoner given a stay of execution an instant before the firing squad. All around, the world erupted in applause. Somehow, she had forgotten the audience except for the powerful male who was staring at her with an inscrutable expression, holding her clothing in his hands. In a flash, Cheyenne reached for them, but for the briefest of instants ? a fraction of a second ? he grasped them tighter.

In that moment, Cheyenne stilled, trapped by the powerful actor who was no longer in a scene, who followed no script. His eyes blazed, and suddenly, they were not policeman and criminal, not actor and actress, not even movie star and undercover operative. They were only man and woman, dueling power and strength. In the next second, he released her, writing a symphony of unspoken words and masked emotion. Something sparked between them, something real, something powerful, something unstoppable.

Oblivious to intangible undercurrents, the director shouted, and for once he actually sounded jovial. “That was fantastic! What a scene, and the chemistry was undeniable. Lou, cancel the other body double.” He rubbed his hands together, grinning like an old-time robber baron. “Destiny, great job. Of course, you’ll have to brush up on the script, but you’ll do fine. Even though we won’t be using your voice or head shots, we need actions to match the plot. After a lot of private practice, you’ll be ready.”

“Practice?” Her voice emerged on the wrong side of panicked.

“Private?” Julian’s was on the right side of satisfied.

The director’s was all pleased. “That’s right, private practice. In the end, he takes off far more than he did today. The final product won’t be full nudity, of course, but to get the scene…” He shrugged.

Did he just say full nudity? Breathe. Relax. Pretend you are somewhere warm and fuzzy, like a bank robbery. Yet her skin turned from cream to pink to red, as images of Julian exploring played on a loop. Right now little clothing remained to protect her body, but it was vital.

So why wasn’t she already dressed? As she stabbed her limbs into the tight clothing, she forced her voice lower. “I thought you just needed the blocking.”

“That was before I promoted you to permanent body double. You want the job, don’t you?” The director’s voice was half-questioning/half-warning. If she turned it down, she would likely be demoted to the coffee runner’s assistant’s assistant. It would mean the end of her fledging acting career and her mission. She didn’t have a choice.

She formed her lips into a pained smile. “Of course, I do. I mean, who wouldn’t? It’s the dream, right?” Julian tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly, and her smile slipped at her clear overacting. She took a deep breath, back in control. Mostly. “Yes, I want the job. I’m just not sure what you want me to practice.”

“He wants you to practice being undressed by me,” Julian’s deep tenor broke in, eliciting a moment’s shiver. If only the guys at the station could see her now. She was supposed to be chasing a hardened criminal, but instead she had become a dress up toy for the most desired actor in Hollywood. Although they were no longer in the scene, he exuded power and control, strength and… possessiveness? He did realize no one was recording, didn’t he?

The director waved his script. “Destiny, you’re done for today. Julian, we’re going to spend the rest of the afternoon on the airplane scene. Tomorrow morning we’re shooting scenes with the secondary characters, so you’ll have time to practice. Understand?”

“Understood,” they said as one. The director turned away, but Julian continued to study her. Did he suspect she was not as she seemed? She would have to be extra careful, especially as she started her true job, the mission.

And she would ignore powerful muscles and the man who wielded them.

“Is she going to throw herself at every guy in the studio?”

Big blue eyes blinked in response.

“They’re going to get the wrong idea.”

Big Blue eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly.

“She could get hurt.”

Big blue eyes filled with… amusement?

Big blue eyes in a rugged, masculine face, in the hulking giant of a man wearing torn fatigues and giant blotchy stains of faux blood. “Excuse me?”

“Cut!” the director yelled for the third time in as many minutes, glaring daggers at his once prized lead actor. “What the hell was that?”

The owner of the big blue eyes grinned tigerlike. “I don’t know who you’re talking about, but she can talk to me anytime.” The would-be villain, the actor who also happened to be Julian’s best friend, Zachary Thompson, gave a devious wink. “It’s important to be friendly.”

Friendliness was commendable, but why was Destiny making moves on every male from the supporting actors to the production crew to the guy who delivered coffee? Julian glared at Zachary, then turned a more apologetic look at the director. “I’m sorry. I got distracted for a moment. It won’t happen again.”

But actually it might. Because although he’d never had to redo the same scene thrice in the span of three minutes in the entirety of his career, now he couldn’t act in an elementary school version of Little Red Riding Hood. What was the matter with him?

Destiny Dane was the problem. This was obvious forty-two seconds later as she squeezed the muscles of yet another man. How many men was she going to pursue in a single afternoon, because she was up to a baker’s dozen? He couldn’t hear the conversations, but he didn’t need to. She whispered in their ears with that secretive smile, rubbed their arms, arched her back to give them the best view of – wait . Had that extra touched her breast? If he was fresh with Destiny, the next production he would be in would involve incontinence products, kitty litter and–

“Julian!” Zach hissed the word, and from his genuinely surprised expression, he had said it more than once. “Are you there, buddy?”

“It doesn’t appear so.” The director twisted the script into a tight tube, then glared at his expensive smartwatch. They had been at it for hours – had he touched her again? – and it was far past their normal quitting time. “We can’t get one scene without my lead actor playing a zombie, and everyone knows I don’t direct science fiction. Can you get it together tomorrow, Starcroft?”

“Absolutely.”

Because he was going to do something about the problem today.

“That’s it, folks.” The director tossed down his script. With a parting glare, he stomped through the cavernous space, his assistants trailing behind him like overeager puppies. “Make sure to check your schedule in the morning.”

Julian gave a cursory wave, as his attention jetted back to the all-too-tempting body double. Now three men were eagerly staring at Destiny’s breasts. He took a step forward, yet a rough hand on his arm stopped him. “Hey, man, are you okay?”

Zach’s regard was reminiscent of the scene in which he was impaled by a sword: perplexed, alarmed and just a little bit stunned. He didn’t blame him. Flubbing lines, losing focus – it wasn’t him. Yet ever since he’d caught a glimpse of the beautiful blonde, he had been distracted, out of sorts even. His friend looked beyond him, saw his target. “Do you know her?”

Not nearly well enough. “Of course, I know her. She’s the new body double.”

“I know that,” Zach drawled. “I mean do you know her, know her? Like beyond the studio?”

“No.” Julian gritted his teeth as a set of four muscle-bound guys replaced the set of three that just left. “We just met.”

“Why are you so interested in her?”

“What makes you think I’m interested in her…” Julian’s words turned into a growl as one of the men pulled her closer, and another, this one surfer blond and notoriously cocky, slung his arm around her. She put a hand on his chest.

“Julian, are you sure….”

“I have to go.” Without waiting for a response, Julian took off for the other end of the set, where Destiny officiated over her flock. The extras moved out of his path, eyes wide at the storming, and he repressed the familiar discomfort. Even on set, he stood out, although far less than in public. He loved his fans, but people treated him like he was an exotic animal. His world mimicked a zoo, a life behind glass, a rare specimen belonging to others.

Fame did have its advantages, however, and one of them occurred as all conversation ceased upon his arrival to Destiny’s all male revue. She had hooked arms with two men, and far more surrounded her. One of them slid his hand down to brush the actress’ nicely rounded rump. Julian glared.

The man dropped his hand, and his jaw, as he stared at Julian. Expressions ranged from admiration to surprise to annoyance, yet Destiny stood stiffly, with a blank mask that revealed nothing. It played stark contrast to her animated countenance seconds ago. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

Shock rocketed the group at the clearly combative statement. Destiny, apparently realizing her mistake, quickly continued, “Not that you’re not welcome, of course.” Her tone was now placating, yet somehow conveyed he was completely unwelcome . Ah yes, she was once more gritting her teeth.

He smiled.

She frowned.

No matter how she tried to pretend, he affected her. She had been in the middle of some sort of campaign to charm the entire male population of Miami, and he had just ruined it. Perfect. “I saw your little group and wanted to join in on the fun. What’s the plan?”

“It’s karaoke night.” Destiny pointed to a group of female extras in the corner. They giggled and whispered when they saw him looking their way. “If you ask them nicely, I bet they’ll let you join.”

“As much as I love karaoke, I’m going to have to pass. I’m sorry, gentlemen, but I’m stealing this lovely lady. We have some business to attend to.”

Anger darkened Destiny’s features, so brief, so subtle, that no one else noticed. But somehow he could tune into her feelings. She was livid .

“I thought we were done for today.” Her voice sounded sugary sweet, and the men drank it up like soda pop. Couldn’t they see her insincerity?

He did. “We have matters to discuss.”

She couldn’t hide a whisper of wariness, as she darted her gaze to the other men. She wouldn’t be getting any help from them – he would make sure of it. “What sort of things?”

“Just some basic questions related to the script.” Like why can’t I stop noticing you? Why do I want to growl at the men who are staring at you? Why do I want to throw you over my shoulder and carry you away?

Okay, so maybe they were slightly off script.

“I’m afraid I can’t make it. I? hey, what is that guy doing?” In an instant, Destiny changed . Her annoyance vanquished, replaced by pure challenge and determination, a confident warrior instead of a coy actress. She stood tall and strong, her entire body poised like an action movie heroine.

What had she seen? Julian pivoted, straining to locate the source of her actions, when she yelled words he never thought he’d hear outside of the movies, “Everyone get down! He has a weapon!”

A thunderous boom splintered the world.