Impossibly Tongue-Tied by Josie Brown Page A

director, with a real script, and with a real budget!
    Obviously he’d read Katerina’s mind. Hovering so close to him that he almost choked on her signature fragrance ( Forbidden, by Kat, of course), Hollywood’s current princess said the one thing she needed to say to make it clear to Sam that her newest obsession—Nathan—should be his as well:
    â€œHe’d be just perfect for my project with Hugo, don’t you think?”
    Why, of course he did, Sam assured her. It was almost as if she’d read his mind. However, it was still Hugo’s final decision, remember? And already Hugo had put out feelers to Russell and George and Brad and Matt, all of whom were chomping at the bit to costar opposite her—
    Kat pursed her lips into that patented petulant pout that had been described by Esquire as “an instant erector set for big boys” and murmured, “But Hugo will do this for me, right? I mean, for the sake of the movie…”
    To infer helplessness (an endeavor truly worthy of an Oscar if the woman deemed the most ruthless in Hollywood could pull it off), Kat let a glossy, Shu Uemura–coated nail meander from the collar of Sam’s shirt to a point just above his nipple. Stopping there, she licked her upper lip and added, “Just think of the fun we could all have on that set…”
    â€œKaterina, I think it’s only fair to warn you that Nathan Harte is happily married—”
    Poking him hard with her talon, she laughed demurely. “Sam, you’re such a cute prude! This is Hollywood, remember? Where marriage is an illusion.”
    She had a point there.
    Turning back to the monitor, he suddenly felt sorry for Nina.
    Even more so, he felt sorry for Nathan.
    Still, he’d call the kid first thing in the morning to give him the good news: He was going to be represented by Sam Godwin, and he was going to star in Katerina McPherson’s next movie.
    Â 
    Sam Godwin’s stucco beach cottage sat kitty-corner on the Pacific Coast Highway, where it intersected Sea Lane Drive. Because this was the four-lane highway’s closest point to Malibu beach, it afforded the cottage some highly coveted frontage on this dream-laden stretch of sand. A solid wood door, surrounded by a high stucco gate, hid the house itself from view.
    It was just as Nina had always envisioned a Hollywood agent should live.
    And now, if all went well, this particular Hollywood agent would be Nathan’s…
    â€¦and maybe, every once in a while, they’d be invited over to watch the sunset and splash around in the tide.
    With Nathan’s agent, Sam Godwin, right there alongside them.
    Heck, she reasoned. Then they would be living the California dream!
    Considering Sam had agreed to see Nathan’s DVD, Nina felt that the least she could do was make sure he got what he had come to Tommaso’s for in the first place. So she had looked up Sam’s home address in Tommaso’s VIP database,and after her shift ended, she picked up Jake and Plum from Sage Oak, then headed out on Highway One, toward the Malibu colony until she found Sam’s place.
    The moment she pushed the cottage’s security bell, a dog started barking from inside. The voice that answered, a bit breathy and certainly annoyed at the interruption, demanded that she walk through the courtyard to the front door.
    It was too much to hope that Sam would be home to greet her. More likely he was commandeering what she imagined was a football-sized corner office on the top floor of the three-story Frank Gehry-designed ICA Tower on Wilshire Boulevard at Rodeo, chatting up one of the Toms, or maybe Denzel, or perhaps even Nicole. Still, any brownie points she could secure on Nathan’s behalf was her goal, even if that meant dropping off Sam’s teff with his housekeeper.
    Or, in this case, a very pretty, very agile, and certainly very buff Danskin-clad girlfriend, and an overly friendly