Impossibly Tongue-Tied

Impossibly Tongue-Tied by Josie Brown

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Authors: Josie Brown
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online—”
    He winced at that.
    â€œâ€”and I’ve seen your picture many times. And I know you represent—well, just about everyone who’s important—and, well…I was just wondering—”
    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€œSure, Nina.” He gave her his patented Sam Godwin eat-you-up-with-a-spoon grin. “Heck, you were my angel just now. So name it. What can I do for you? ”
    â€œI was just wondering—” Her hand came out from underneath the counter. In it was a DVD and a head shot. He smiled knowingly, expectantly.
    â€œâ€”if you wouldn’t mind taking a look at my husband’s reel.”
    Her husband’s reel.
    â€œYou—have a husband? But…just how old are you?”
    Her smile faded just a bit. He wasn’t 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 Sam’s life, watching the person he was dealing with become desperate—watching Nina’s desperation—wasn’t such great sport.
    No, he couldn’t stand the thought of her being hurt at all.
    â€œTwenty-four…” 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. She’s also married. Remember?
    The whole thing was so bizarre: his falling hard for some little cashier; she being a mere baby—and a married babe at that!
    He looked down at the DVD. Sure, he’d 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.
    It’s 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 didn’t deserve her.
    It wasn’t until Sam was halfway down Sunset that he realized he’d left the teff on the counter.
    Â 
    â€œ Ooooh, I want you! ”
    Sam looked up to find Katerina McPherson—the most recent victor of GQ ’s “Every Man’s Wet Dream” contest—standing in his doorway and salivating over what he was watching on his video monitor:
    Nathan Harte’s reel.
    Because Uma was in town, Quentin had skedaddled on time, leaving Sam with a few minutes to peruse the tape prior to Katerina’s traffic-stopping, fashionably late appearance in ICA’s offices. Looking at her now, he understood very well that it wasn’t just Katerina’s 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 Joe’s 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:
    â€œI could eat you up alive…and you’d love every moment of it.”
    What was making her lick her collagen-plumped lips at that very moment was the tall, blond, and incredibly handsome Nathan Harte—all six-foot-two inches of him: broad chest, washboard abs, dimpled chin, curly locks—caught 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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