onlineââ
He winced at that.
ââand Iâve seen your picture many times. And I know you representâwell, just about everyone whoâs importantâand, wellâ¦I was just wonderingââ
Ha! There it was, he thought. She was looking for a break after all.
And, hell yeah, he was going to give it to her. ( Come to Papa, come to Papa â¦)
âSure, Nina.â He gave her his patented Sam Godwin eat-you-up-with-a-spoon grin. âHeck, you were my angel just now. So name it. What can I do for you? â
âI was just wonderingââ Her hand came out from underneath the counter. In it was a DVD and a head shot. He smiled knowingly, expectantly.
ââif you wouldnât mind taking a look at my husbandâs reel.â
Her husbandâs reel.
âYouâhave a husband? Butâ¦just how old are you?â
Her smile faded just a bit. He wasnât sure, but he could havesworn that those big beautiful brown eyes had clouded up again, just for a second.
Yep, there it was: desperation.
But for once in Samâs life, watching the person he was dealing with become desperateâwatching Ninaâs desperationâwasnât such great sport.
No, he couldnât stand the thought of her being hurt at all.
âTwenty-fourâ¦â Her voice trailed off, as if it were a death sentence.
In Hollywood, it practically was.
Her eyes sought his, as if seeking his approval for being over twenty-one.
Legal, as it were.
Hell yeah. Thank God Nina was legal.
Down, tiger. Sheâs also married. Remember?
The whole thing was so bizarre: his falling hard for some little cashier; she being a mere babyâand a married babe at that!
He looked down at the DVD. Sure, heâd watch it.
Hey, how bad could it be?
He took it out of her hand and got stung again by the ice-cold heat of her touch.
Itâs already bad enough, guy. She has a husband, remember?
As he watched the relief flow back into her face, and that angelic smile grace her lips once more on his behalf, he was convinced that his initial instincts were right:
That whoever the bastard was, he didnât deserve her.
It wasnât until Sam was halfway down Sunset that he realized heâd left the teff on the counter.
Â
â Ooooh, I want you! â
Sam looked up to find Katerina McPhersonâthe most recent victor of GQ âs âEvery Manâs Wet Dreamâ contestâstanding in his doorway and salivating over what he was watching on his video monitor:
Nathan Harteâs reel.
Because Uma was in town, Quentin had skedaddled on time, leaving Sam with a few minutes to peruse the tape prior to Katerinaâs traffic-stopping, fashionably late appearance in ICAâs offices. Looking at her now, he understood very well that it wasnât just Katerinaâs long, tousled tendrils that flowed down to the small of her back almost to her well-toned, sky-high ass, or the long, come-hither lashes over those deep-set aquamarine eyes, or those exquisitely chiseled cheekbones that put a rocket in the average Joeâs pocket. Nor was it just the way in which her 37CC breasts were miraculously cantilevered, like the headlights on a vintage Jeep CJ-6, over that diminutive waist of hers.
Nope, it was none of that.
It was, however, the look on her face right now, that very moment, that bespoke the hidden desire of any man who saw it and eagerly read its openly blatant meaning:
âI could eat you up aliveâ¦and youâd love every moment of it.â
What was making her lick her collagen-plumped lips at that very moment was the tall, blond, and incredibly handsome Nathan Harteâall six-foot-two inches of him: broad chest, washboard abs, dimpled chin, curly locksâcaught in a close-up as he emoted soulfully on a poorly lit set to a fidgety Betacam.
Which made Sam think: Imagine how millions of women would react to him in a film made by a real
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