To Catch a Star by Romy Sommer Page A

croissants with preserves, cold meats and local cheese, but Christian couldn’t stomach food this early.
    “You hungry?” He asked.
    She shook her head. “I already ate. You should eat something. Coffee is not a breakfast.”
    “Wanna bet?”
    Silence fell again. The caffeine worked its way through his system, and he started to feel a little less off balance. A little more rational.
    “You’re early. Does that mean your date wasn’t a great success?”
    “It was a lovely evening, thank you.” And she smiled.
    He leaned back in his seat and contemplated her. Smiling, she looked less stuck-up. Less like the brats he’d had to say “yes, sir” and “no, sir” to all that last summer in Los Pajaros.
    “You should do that more often.”
    “Do what?” Her face smoothed out into the calm, unemotional mask he’d already learned was her default setting. She unconsciously tucked back a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
    He reached across the table and worked it loose again. She froze at his touch. “You should smile more often.”
    He wouldn’t have believed it possible if he hadn’t seen it. She blushed as she turned her face away, revealing just how porcelain-thin her skin really was.
    God, even her neck was perfect. For a wild moment he imagined himself nipping that delicate skin at her throat with his teeth. His body pulled tight in response.
    “I’ll wait outside for the car to arrive.” She began to rise, but he grabbed her hand.
    “It won’t be here for another few minutes and it’s cold outside. Sit down.” He grinned. “I won’t bite, I promise.”
    She didn’t look as if she believed him, but she sat back down and folded her hands demurely in her lap, eyes cast down. He had no illusions it was out of any kind of meekness. He’d seen enough to know Teresa Adler was neither meek nor shy.
    She simply didn’t want to look at him. Why? Other women had no problem looking. And looking. Could it be because of the colour of his skin, or because she thought he was beneath her? It couldn’t be because she wasn’t interested. That blush said she was
very
interested.
    He wanted to reach out again and touch her, but resisted the temptation. It was growing obvious she didn’t like to be touched. Yet that silky skin, the colour of fresh cream and just as soft, begged him to touch so much he ached with the desire.
    He emptied his cup and put his shades on. “Let’s go.”
    But walking was an effort.
    Christian’s car was a luxury grey sedan with darkened windows. She’d expected a stretch limousine, something showy and pretentious, so the understated elegance came as something of a surprise.
    The driver stood waiting beside the car. He looked military, with his buzz cut and sharp eyes, though he wore an unremarkable suit beneath his massive overcoat. He held the door open for Christian, who climbed wordlessly into the back and turned to Tessa with a quick smile. “He’ll be much friendlier once he’s woken up. I’m Frank.”
    As they pulled off, she called Robbie on her mobile. “We’re on our way. We’ll be there in about twenty minutes, morning rush-hour traffic permitting.”
    “Text me when you’re two minutes away,” Robbie said.
    This was ridiculous. Stefan didn’t buzz his office with two-minute warnings. These film people really were angsty.
    They drove in silence. She was sure Christian dozed behind his dark glasses. If she hadn’t seen firsthand how much of a morning person he wasn’t, she’d have thought it to be a pretentious Hollywood thing.
    Except he hadn’t looked sleepy in that moment he’d touched her. He’d looked as if he’d been stung, those mischievous blue eyes alight with interest. There’d been a startled intensity in his eyes, a focused look that unnerved her even more than his touch had.
    It didn’t bother her that he found her attractive. Many men openly admired her. What bothered her was the nervous flip her stomach had made.
    She paged through the