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

Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

“ I really think he likes me!” Jess squealed. “Isn’t he amazing?”

The women agreed enthusiastically, because realistically, Zachary Thompson was pretty amazing. Not as amazing as Julian, of course, but amazing still. Kate rolled her eyes, but the rest ignored her.

Cheyenne smiled at her friend. How different Jess was compared to her, barely able to stay awake this Monday morning after a weekend of wicked indulgence. She should probably be happy for the small amount of sleep she got.

“I hate to tell you, doll, but Zachary likes anyone with boobs.” Kate smirked.

Gray clouds overtook the sunshine in Jess’ expression. The others snickered, but Cheyenne put an arm around the pale woman. “That’s not true,” she said, and was shocked to discover she meant it. When had she ever thought actors could be anything more than shallow, self-centered players? “He’s been more focused lately.”

Jess perked up. “Really? You think so?”

Cheyenne nodded, while Kate gave a snort. “Whatever. If you ask me, he’s just like the rest. When you want a man who’s honest about what he wants, you come to me, okay?”

What a spiteful woman. Cheyenne put herself in front of Jess. “She doesn’t want a man who’s just looking for fun.”

Kate sneered. “They’re all looking for fun. Why not get one who doesn’t pretend? At least you won’t cry into your pillow when he doesn’t call.” She turned her venomous glare to Cheyenne. “It’s just like you and Julian.”

Cheyenne stiffened. “There’s nothing between Julian and me.”

“Yeah, right,” Kate retorted. “Nothing serious, I’m sure, but something fun? It’s written all over your face.”

This wasn’t good. If people were starting to notice something was going on – not that anything was going on…

Kate’s smile was as sweet as arsenic-laced honey. “Don’t get your hopes up. Men like Julian and Zachary don’t go for extras and assistants – they go for heiresses, socialites and starlets, and even then they’re not faithful past their wedding nights. Everyone knows that.”

Despite the venomous delivery, the words were true. It had been her guiding belief, even if certain people seemed… different. Regardless, Cheyenne had no intention of discussing relationships with Kate. “As I said, there’s nothing between Julian and me. I’m just his personal assistant.” Before Kate could comment further, she hooked arms with Jess, turned away and walked to the refreshment table. She spoke a donut later. “Can you believe that woman?”

“Um… yeah.” Only instead of enthusiastic agreement, Jess bit her bottom lip, playing the role of thoughtful contemplation. Kate frowned. She would keep her eye on the vulnerable starlet.

But not now. Jess got called to work, and Cheyenne ducked into a group of crewmembers. She began another fruitless conversation, which gave her absolutely no clue as to who the culprit could be, then retreated back to the breakfast spread. No matter how many men she talked to, flirted with, boldly touched, no one offered any illegal propositions. Indecent, yes, illicit, absolutely, but illegal? Not even close.

The production was moving into the final weeks of filming, and time was running out. In a few days, they’d take a week off so half the cast could attend a big Hollywood event, and after that, only a few weeks would remain before production wrapped. Then her chance would be over.

Of course, once her mission concluded, her association with Julian would also end. The thought was surprisingly unsettling and gloomy and just plain horrib–

No. Nothing real could ever happen between them, no matter how tempting.

“There’s my missing assistant.”

Well, that was annoying. Not the large presence above her, the formidable man who painted heat on her skin every time he approached. Not his warm voice or the tingles they brought. No, it was that despite her best efforts, they elicited far too much satisfaction, pleasure and even joy. “Missing?” Cheyenne busied herself with spreading chive cream cheese on a roasted onion bagel. “How long have we been apart?”

“Five hours, thirty-two minutes and sixteen seconds.”

Cheyenne’s hand slipped, and the plastic knife nicked her finger. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

He smiled, and she picked up the bagel. He was kidding. He hadn’t actually calculated how long they’d been apart. Because if he had, it would be much closer to six hours, fifteen minutes and eight seconds.

No way would she tell him that.

She moved closer and lowered her voice. “You are kidding. Well, that’s good, because I have the perfect strategy for dealing with our ill-advised, preposterous weekend. We’re going to forget it ever happened.”

“You can ignore what we shared?” An eyebrow lifted, challenge drafted, sealed and delivered. Then without warning, he grasped her hand. He strode toward the hallway – taking her with him.

“What are you doing?” she hissed. “Let me go.”

“No,” he said mildly.

“This might’ve been okay when you grew up in the age of the Neanderthals, but it’s not okay now. If you don’t let me go, I’ll scream.”

“No, you won’t. You don’t want to create a scene.”

Damn it. He was right. She forced herself to relax, allowing him to more fully grasp her hand as he led her along. If walking hand in hand looked bad, him dragging her to his cave looked far worse. “I’m going to get you back for this,” she hissed.

“No, you’re not.” He smiled. “Mainly because I’m never going to have you cook for me again.”

Wise choice. “In some cultures, spicy food is revered,” she sniffed. “They say it puts hair on your chest.”

“I like your chest just the way it is.”

Cheyenne fought a blush as they transcended the hallway and entered his dressing room. As soon as he released her, she pivoted and pointed a finger at his chest. “Why am I here?”

“We can’t ignore what happened.”

“On the contrary, I’m doing a fantastic job. You should give it a try.”

He leaned against a table. “Actually, you’re doing a terrible job.”

Yes, she was. This was supposed to be a surreptitious relationship, with just little hints for the cast and crew. Yet a few minutes ago, one of the extras asked what type of engagement ring she was hoping for. “I’m fine. We’re fine. Everything is fine. Now if you don’t have any personal assisting for me to do, I have to get back to…”

“Hitting on the goldfish? Don’t bother – it’s engaged to the angel fish.”

She ignored him. “No, to looking for...” She clamped her mouth shut. She’d almost blurted out too much. How did he make her lose concentration like that? More importantly, had he noticed?

His gaze sharpened. “Looking for what?”

Damn. She took a breath, refocused. She was running out of cover stories. “I’m looking for a little fun. There are some really fascinating men on the set.”

“Are there?” His voice turned low, dangerous. “Too bad you won’t have time to flirt with them.”

Did he just– “Excuse me? You may be my boss, but you don’t have the right to dictate who I do and don’t see. You have no claim to me.”

His lips did a dangerous downturn. His steps boomed across the floor as he approached. Closer, closer, closer. “What about Friday night?”

Heat engulfed her, yet pride prevented her from moving back. “Friday night was a mistake.”

“And Saturday morning? And afternoon? And night? And all day Sunday?”

Cheyenne flushed. “Mistake, mistake, mistake and really big mistake.”

“I see.” He moved closer, and he brushed her. It was electric . “You didn’t seem to think so at the time.”

“I wasn’t thinking!” she shot back, scooting away from muscles and electricity and desire. “Look, I’m sorry, I really am. You’re an amazing–” Too strong. “I mean great, I mean good…”

“Please stop – my ego just can’t take it.”

She huffed out. “Slightly less than mediocre guy, but I can’t start anything serious right now.”

“So you just want to use me for sex?”

She hesitated.

“I’m wounded, but I’ll take it.”

“Wait, what? No!” She was losing control. “This isn’t just about sex.”

He smiled.

That little– “Making me respond… er… tripping up my answers isn’t going to help your cause. It doesn’t matter if it’s a real relationship or meaningless sex. It can’t happen again.”

“Why not?”

The strangest urge to tell the truth tangled her tongue. Yet that could derail the mission, not to mention her resolve. She looked away. “It just can’t. I’m not in the position to have any sort of relationship.”

“Even one with the potential to be something special?”

She opened her mouth to deny it, but nothing emerged. She wasn’t nearly a good enough actress to convince herself their relationship wasn’t special, so how would she convince him? They shared some sort of rare spark, a connection, pure and simple. But it didn’t matter, because of who he was and who she wasn’t. They could never explore it.

“You owe me a date.”

“I know,” she acknowledged. “One more.”

Silence.

“That’s it, buddy.” She held up a finger. “One more date.”

More silence.

“Ugh. Okay, so when do you want it to be? Our last, final, never-to-be-repeated date?”

This time, he answered without hesitation. “Friday.”

The day before another weekend…. wait, an entire week off. “Not a chance. I’m not getting locked into a seven-day date, actually more counting weekends.”

“I never said you were. I’ve already made special arrangements for Friday. Don’t you trust me?”

Like she trusted a wolf to babysit a bunny. “I don’t trust myself.” She closed her eyes. “Pretend I didn’t say that.”

“I knew you found me irresistible. If you can control yourself, we’ll be fine. By the way, do you have a passport?”

“Excuse me?”

“No worries. We’ll stay domestic. I’ll pick you up at six.”

“I don’t think–” She stopped at his obstinate expression. “Fine, six o’clock. But it’s going to be a normal-sized, normal activity date. And no hanky-panky.”

“Should I hire a chaperone?”

“Do you like driving me crazy?”

“I kind of do.” He winked. “Now that that’s settled, I need some more personal assisting.” He laughed at her glare. “No, not that type. I’d like you to sort through my fan mail and send responses. For most, a note and an autographed picture will be fine. If one is really compelling, put it aside, and I’ll look at it later. Ignore the creepy ones unless they’re threatening – keep those together so I can report them to the authorities. And no matter what they say, no one has given birth to my love child.”

Cheyenne arched an eyebrow. “You actually get letters like that?”

“You wouldn’t believe how many.”

Judging by how careful he’d been to use protection each and every time they made love, he probably didn’t have any unintended children out there. “Not that I’m opposed to kids,” he suddenly said. “I’m just planning on having them with someone I actually know.”

How unexpected… and satisfying… and unexpectedly satisfying. “It’s really none of my business.” She ignored the inner voice that wanted it to be her business. She pointed toward a stack of envelopes on the desk. “Is that the fan mail?”

“Yes,” he confirmed.

She started toward them.

“And those.” He pointed at a stack on the floor.

“And those.” He pointed to a box by the door.

“And those.” He pointed at four more bins on the table.

There goes police work for the morning and afternoon, possibly the entire week. “Have you saved these up all year?”

“Just this week. And of course they don’t include emails.”

“Of course not.” She held back her sigh. “It also probably doesn’t include messages from off-planet.”

“Nope. My assistant on Jupiter takes care of those.” He winked. “I’ll be working at my desk if you need anything.”

She would get through them as quickly as possible and then get back to her real job. Cheyenne opened a pink letter with red hearts and the heavy scent of eau de parfum. She whistled low. “You were right. I’m only on the first one, and you’ve already got a love child. Twins, actually. You’ve been secretly living with the family every weekend, traveling to…” She chuckled. “The Arctic? You’ve been travelling to the Arctic every weekend? That sounds exhausting.”

“It is, actually. You wouldn’t believe the difficulty of a quick jaunt across the planet.” Julian grinned. “That’s the sort of letter I discard. I don’t want to offer any encouragement.”

“Got it.” She tossed the letter into the wastebasket and opened the next. “You also have a kid in France.”

He groaned as she discarded the letter. He waited as she read the next one. “Well, you’re off the hook.” She held the letter up. “This one does not claim to have your love child.”

“Thank goodness.”

“But she wants one.”

“Fantastic.”

She laughed at his comically crestfallen expression. “She wants other things from you, as well. Want details?” She didn’t wait for an answer before crumpling the paper.

He stopped her before she could toss it. “Are those details explicit?”

She wagged her finger. “Oh no, I’m not going into explicit details with you. To be honest, some of these positions are impossible unless you’re an acrobat.”

Mischief sparkled in clever eyes. “But you’re my assistant. It’s your job to assist.”

“I’d be happy to.” She took the offensive letter, and really, it was ridiculous, and tore it in half. Then again and again and again until it became approximately twenty pieces of scrap paper. She threw it into the garbage and smiled brightly. “There you go.”

“Did you just destroy my property? Don’t you know that’s against the law?”

Yes, she did. Which was fairly ironic considering her true position. “That’s a bendable rule. I’ll never get to the rest of the letters if you don’t stop distracting me.”

“I’m distracting you?” He smiled, then he stood up.

Now that was distracting. She sat up straighter in the chair. “What are you doing?”

He took a step closer.

She gripped the armrests. “I thought you wanted your fan mail sorted. You probably received another hundred letters just during this conversation.”

He didn’t stop. When he was almost upon her, she stood. Face to chest, he towered over her. “You falsely accused me of distracting you. Aren’t I allowed respond to such a serious accusation?”

She put her hands on her hips. Desire swept through her, heady need and endless temptation. She needed to regain control, and she could only do it by shocking him. “Since I already got in trouble for it, I might as well do it.” She brushed her lips against his.

Two seconds. That’s how long she kept it light. But he smelled so good, and tasted better, and somehow her arms snaked their way down to his ass and did just a little squeezing. And somehow he did the same. And she would’ve pulled back if he hadn’t felt so wonderful. Really, she was just about to, when he did…

Five minutes later.

“Well, that was uncalled for.” She sniffed, but her cheeks had to be as pink as a princess’ bedroom. “Can I go back to work now?”

“If that’s what you want.” He dragged his gaze over the length of her, tracing heat on her skin. She could withstand it. She was strong and disciplined and…

“Oh, hell.” She jumped back into his arms.

Ten minutes later he pulled back again, right before she would’ve stopped, of course. “I’d love to kiss all day, but I must get some work done. Maybe tonight…”

“No!” She took a deep breath. “I mean, no thank you. We’ll get together Friday night for a home-cooked mea… er, takeout and that’ll be it.” She plopped back in the seat and buried her nose in the next letter.

“Okay, but if you distract me, I’m going to kiss you again.”

She forced herself to focus on the letter. Really, how many love children could one man have? It really was–

He seized her lips.

She meant to tell him to stop. Which was almost the same as what she actually did: press into him. Finally, he pulled back.

“What was that for?”

“You distracted me.”

She gave him her best I-know-what-you’re-doing-and-you’re-not-going-to-get-away-with-it-but-actually-you-might look. “I’ll be sure not to distract you again.”

It only happened six more times.

All by accident – of course.

Despite the distractions, Cheyenne slowly made her way through the letters. Beyond the fanatical ones, most were sweet and heartfelt, written like missives to a long-lost friend. Clearly, they felt a connection to the man everyone adored. And even if she wouldn’t admit it…

So did she.

“I’m done.” Cheyenne tossed the last letter onto the pile and sat back on the plush chair Julian had brought in an hour earlier, along with a delicious meal of fresh fruits and pastries, creamy smoothies and freshly-squeezed juices. She’d finished the work in several hours, mainly due to the high number of inappropriate messages. At last count, Julian had fathered two dozen love children and had offers for twice as many more. She handed him a tidy stack of papers. “You should read these. There are some meaningful letters and a few from ill fans. This one–” She held out a letter by her fingertips, “Belongs in Division 72.”

He read the letter and grimaced. “Division 72?”

“Yeah, the stalking department,” she said automatically. Then, she froze. The number of the stalking division probably wasn’t everyday knowledge. “Isn’t that the number of the stalking division? I heard it on the news, but I could be wrong. Maybe it’s thirty or something. Anyway, you should send that along.”

His gaze was suspicious, as she shuffled the rest of the pile. “I discarded the letters that weren’t dangerous but definitely on the wrong side of creepy, mother of my child sort of thing. Oh and I found this letter. It’s not from a fan, but some sort of kids’ charity. They want to thank you for your…” She started to read. “Whoa. That’s a lot of zeros.”

Julian swiftly took the letter. “That shouldn’t have been with the general mail. Please don’t mention it to anyone. Be right back.”

Okay, so not only did he surreptitiously volunteer his time to help people, but he also gave away gobs of money without telling anyone. His kindness and compassion made it even harder to keep her distance. He called her a distraction, but he was proving a far greater one to both the case and her. “He can’t seriously be that awesome.”

“Sure I can.”

She pivoted. Why did he always show up at the most inopportune time? He grinned widely. “I can absolutely be that awesome.”

“I didn’t call you awesome.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I heard you.”

“You heard wrong.” Time to make her escape. “Now that I’ve finished your mail, I’d better go. I’m sure they could use my help on set.” She took a step toward the door.

“Nope.” He stopped her with a single succinct word, stepping closer. “Remember how I mentioned this was only a week’s worth of mail? Well, I’ve been a little behind.”

Uh-oh. “How behind?”

“Two months.”

“Two months?” Mental math churned the numbers. “One week’s worth took me three hours, eight more weeks is going to take me…”

“A while.” He leaned comfortably against the desk. “And if you keep distracting me, it’ll take even longer.” He strode toward the exit, stopped just before it. “I’ll just get the rest of the mail. By the way, I think you’re pretty awesome, too.”

“Julian, look this way!”

“Julian, I love you!”

“Julian, you’re awesome!”

Julian waved at the excited, screaming and waving fans, smiling at the same compliment his personal assistant had given hours before. It was relatively tame compared to some of the other adorations, yet coming from Destiny, it meant infinitely more. Of course, she’d tried to get out of it. He wouldn’t allow it.

The crowd surged forward, and security formed a tighter circle around him. He forced himself to maintain the smile through the discomfort. The fans had come a long way to see him and deserved his attention. “Hi everyone!” He smiled and greeted, making eye contact with as many people as possible. He was attending a fundraising dinner for the Special Olympics, a cause close to his heart, and they’d set up a red carpet prior to the event. He was always happy to do publicity for such a fantastic program and would be giving the keynote speech later.

“Hey, buddy.”

Julian turned to Zachary, who was smiling broadly, probably due to the very glowing actress on his arm.

“Hi Zach.” He shook his friend’s hand, then smiled down at the women dressed in red sparkles. “Hi Jess.”

“Hi Mr. Starcroft,” she gushed. “You remembered my name.”

“How could I forget with Zachary saying it every two minutes?” He winked. “Plus, you are the body double.”

“What can I say?” Zachary hugged his date. “This woman is stunning.” As Jess blushed, he turned back to his friend. “Where’s your lovely lady?”

“Julian’s lady?” someone screeched.

“Please say it isn’t true!” another shrieked.

“It can’t be!” yet another cried.

Julian gave his friend a look, started to deny it, and stopped. For once, he didn’t want to refute his interest. Because he was interested. Very interested.

But that someone, who liked him enough to call him awesome, was desperate to deny it. And although he had every intention of changing her mind, he couldn’t thrust her unwillingly into the spotlight. “No,” he said loud enough for the fans to hear. “There’s no lovely lady. I’m one hundred percent single.”

He gave Zachary a look, which was clearly understood when his friend clapped him on the back. “All the more fun.” At Jess’ pout, he quickly backtracked, “I mean, poor guy. We’ll have to find you someone. Maybe someone out there,” he called to the crowd.

The applause was deafening, and took everyone’s mind off his supposed lady love. Everyone’s, that was, but his. To be fair, he hadn’t been able to get his mind off Destiny in days. No matter his efforts, their time together would soon end. Even if she was his personal assistant, she was employed by the studio, and she was unlikely to take an offer of employment from him. They only had a few weeks of filming left, and then curtains .

That meant this last date had to count. One night simply wasn’t going to do it, not when Destiny had already set up personal meetups with multiple cast and crewmembers during her week off. She didn’t want to be seen with a movie star but would happily date twenty different men? It didn’t make sense. She may act the flirt, but he’d seen the real her, and she wasn’t a twenty-guy type of woman. Her motivations played a mystery plot, and he was going to uncover every last detail.

He knew just how to do it.