Buch lesen: «Temptation on His Terms»

“You’re planning to kiss me again. And I’m afraid I might kiss you back.”

If that happened, and things got out of hand then turned irretrievably sour, Shelby would have no one to blame but herself.

That night when their lips had brushed, time had wound down, hormones had sat up and, for that moment, the urge to surrender it all had been hypnotic. They’d barely kissed and yet never in her life had she felt that level of raw sexual need. She’d been gripped so soon, so tight, her reaction afterward had been just as fierce.

Reaching forward, she swept the bag off the floor. “I don’t want to complicate things.”

As Dex came to stand before her, those wonderful, frightening feelings sparked again. When his fresh male scent slipped into her lungs, she held her breath and skirted around him.

Leaning back against the lounge, he crossed his arms and ankles. Relaxed. In control. Insufferable…and irresistible.

About the Author

ROBYN GRADY was first published with mills & boon in 2007. Her books have since featured regularly on bestseller lists and at award ceremonies, including a national Readers’ Choice Award, a booksellers’ best Award, CataRomance Reviewers’ Choice Award and Australia’s prestigious Romantic book of the year Award.

Robyn lives on Queensland’s beautiful Sunshine Coast with her real-life hero husband and three daughters. When she can be dragged away from tapping out her next story, Robyn visits the theater, the beach and the mall (a lot!). To keep fit, she jogs (and shops) and dances with her youngest to Hannah montana.

Robyn believes writing romance is the best job on the planet and she loves to hear from her readers. So drop by www.robyngrady.com and pass on your thoughts!

Temptation on His Terms

Robyn Grady

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is dedicated to my wonderful father,

who was always a hero in my life, as well as in

the lives of so many others. Love you, Jack.

One

Shelby Scott glared at the spectacle unfolding in front of the world-famous hotel and pursed her lips. With amused people skirting by, Dex Hunter was going all-out, kissing—or was that mauling?—one extremely enthusiastic lady. The blaze from her diamanté dress could help bring home a ship in a gale. A starlet wannabe, Shelby surmised, given that Mr. Hunter owned his very own movie studio.

When they’d met earlier that day—after she’d splashed hot coffee all over his shirt cuff—Shelby had promised herself that waitressing was only a stopgap. New to California, she had her heart set on finding a good nanny position. She had experience and everyone back home knew she loved kids. As luck would have it, Mr. Hunter was in the market.

A busy bachelor and head of Hunter Productions, Dex needed a suitable someone to help care for his little brother who was due to pay a solo visit. When Dex learned that child care was her vocation of choice, he’d seemed interested. Then he’d discovered that she’d read every book in the boy’s bestloved children’s series and even knew the difference between a stegosaurus and a T. rex. Apparently his brother loved dinosaurs.

Dex said he felt as if he’d struck gold. She’d felt the same way. Because he’d been short on time, they’d agreed to meet tonight to talk more and hopefully finalize the deal.

But the cheap display she was witnessing now quashed any chance of them working together. When his five-year-old brother arrived from Australia, Dex Hunter could make other arrangements. She’d had enough of dealing with Casanova types. In Hollywood or Mountain Ridge, Oklahoma, in blue jeans or tailored trousers…

Hell, they were all the same.

The snap-lock kiss finally broke apart. Dex Hunter’s focus shifted and, as if guided by radar, landed smack-dab on Shelby. While she watched, he set the clearly giddy woman aside then strode past two awnings and straight up to Shelby. Over the scent of coming rain, his fresh musky scent filled her lungs at the same time his masculine presence enveloped her. Broad through the shoulders and tall—even compared to her five-foot-ten-inch frame—tonight he exuded a born-to-bed confidence.

But his lidded, tawny-colored gaze was the kicker. Beneath the streetlights, those eyes might be mistaken for a lion’s…an intelligent, potentially dangerous beast’s.

“You’re early,” he said, straightening his collar.

“I’m sure I’m right on time.” Shelby couldn’t help herself. “Are you in the habit, Mr. Hunter, of making a downright show of yourself in public?”

His eyebrows knitted together before he caught on and threw a glance over a jacketed shoulder. One corner of his mouth curved with a grin.

“She did kind of pounce, didn’t she?”

“Oh, and he palms off responsibility, too.”

His gaze sharpened, then he dragged a finger and thumb down each side of his mouth. When his hand lowered, his jaw was tight and his grin was rubbed clean away. “We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot.”

“We’re not getting off at all.”

Finished and done, she headed for the nearest bus stop.

She’d been in Los Angeles two weeks. Other than a few days in Oklahoma City years ago, she hadn’t set foot outside of her hometown before. She’d only settled on California because of a much-loved old movie where the heroine, who had needed a new start, had lucked out when she’d ended up here. Now, feeling alone—and naive—the idea of buckling and going back to “familiar” surged up to grip her like a vise. She had a lifetime of memories in Mountain Ridge—mostly good.

Some seriously bad.

Which was why she’d made that promise to stay away and stay strong. She refused to endure pitying or even disapproving looks from folk she’d known all her life. And if some said that was running away, if there were people who dared imply that was yellow…well, who gave a fat fairy’s—

She heard the slap of footfalls on the pavement behind her. Next minute, Dex Hunter reappeared, his dynamo frame physically blocking her this time.

“You said you’d have dinner with me,” he said, “to discuss my proposition.”

“If that’s how you conduct yourself in public while expecting company, I don’t care to know what you’d get up to in the privacy of your own home, whether an innocent little boy was staying or not.” She tipped forward, spoke clearly. “I won’t be a part of it.”

“That woman’s a friend.”

“That would be a friend with benefits?”

“We were saying goodbye.”

“I might be a country girl,” Shelby drawled, “but I didn’t fall off the back of a hay cart yesterday. That embrace was not a friendly farewell.”

It was a prelude to something much deeper. Burning, desperate. She’d come across that kind of kiss before.

“Bernice had too much to drink,” he told her, catching up as she set off again, a single stride of his equaling two purposeful steps from her. “She’s meeting some buddies and wanted me to tag along. When I said I had plans…” He scratched his ear. “Well, she tried to convince me.”

“And you put up such a fight,” Shelby said prettily.

“For all you know, she might’ve been my girlfriend. A fiancée even.”

At the mention of the F-word, Shelby’s stomach swooped and she stopped. Dex Hunter couldn’t take a hint, even when it slapped him upside the head.

“I didn’t like what I saw.” Didn’t like the way it made her feel. Uncomfortable. Vulnerable. “Call a nanny agency. And, for heaven’s sake, wipe that lipstick off your cheek.”

“I checked out your references this afternoon,” he said. “Got some people on the phone.”

Shelby felt her gaze widen, her throat constrict.

“At the café,” he said, using a handkerchief to scrub that smear from his jaw, “you mentioned a couple places you worked for back home. People spoke highly of you and your capabilities, by the way. Mrs. Fallon from Hatchlings Kindergarten was especially impressed. She said you connect particularly well with boys.”

“I liked roping more than tea parties growing up,” she admitted as her thoughts raced on. She didn’t mind that he’d followed up on those names she’d supplied, but now she couldn’t help but wonder. Who else had Dex Hunter spoken to? What else did he know? Not that he would give a hoot about that ugly incident last month. The episode Mountain Ridge would whisper about and lament for years to come.

“I haven’t seen my youngest brother in six months,” he was saying, “but I’m sure he’s the same kid. Full of mischief and ideas and buckets of energy. You’d like him.” A fond smile reflected in those tawny-colored eyes. “Everyone does.”

Shelby released a breath.

Okay. She was curious. Had his brother sat in a saddle yet? Did he like checkers or baseball? Maybe he was more into building blocks, constructing little towns and surrounding them with farms, barns, horses, cows…

Shelby straightened.

None of that erased this man’s lame excuse for the nearly R-rated scene she’d just witnessed. Friend indeed.

She crossed her arms. “You’ll find someone else.”

“I want you.”

“Please, just go and join your—”

Midsentence, she’d glanced back. And froze.

The woman—Bernice—had flung her arms around yet another man. As her new victim gently pried her away, Bernice tottered then—oh, dear Lord—crumpled and began to cry. While Shelby’s heart sank, two women rushed up. With arms linked around Bernice’s waist, the friends Dex Hunter had mentioned carefully led her away.

“Bernice’s fiancé broke off their engagement the other week,” he said. “I’ve known the guy for years. Not the marrying kind. Guess tonight, before she went home for good, Bernice wanted to prove something to the world. To herself. Not that she needs to. She was always too good for Mac.”

Knots filled Shelby’s stomach. How very much she felt for that woman. Hurt and despair could lead a person to do some seriously dumb things. Things you could barely make sense of later on and never take back.

Dex’s voice broke into her thoughts. “This town’s too tough for someone like her. Too tough for a lot of people.”

Shelby felt his evaluating gaze on her again, before he straightened both shoulders and got back on track.

“Whatever you decide about the job,” he said, “I still want to take you to dinner. You’ve been working, serving people all day. Bet you’re as hungry as I am, and I could eat a horse.”

She gave a grudging grin. “Sounds as if Mrs. Fallon at the kindergarten mentioned my appetite.”

He chuckled, a smooth rich sound that left her feeling as if she were swirling in a pool of deep warm water. Or was that quicksand?

“Tate has an appetite, too,” he said. “Last time we caught up, cheeseburgers were his favorite fillers. Although I might have had something to do with that.”

Her smile, and opinion of Mr. Hunter, loosened up more. He really was charming. And persuasive. A tricky combination, as past experience had taught her. Still…

“Guess there’s no harm in sharing a meal,” she said. “But we’re going Dutch.”

“No need—”

“I insist.”

Dex didn’t mistake Shelby Scott’s tone. The clear-cut message in her words or in her eyes. She would have dinner with him. Might even answer more questions about her nanny experience in Mountain Ridge. Given that their misunderstanding regarding Bernice had been sorted, no reason he and Shelby shouldn’t get back to negotiations. Although he wasn’t convinced that she saw it that way.

She had a point. Most people would simply call the best nanny agency in town, let them do the screening and save themselves the trouble. But his gut said Shelby Scott was the right person to help care for the little guy, who not only meant more to Dex than anyone in the world but also needed his protection.

Someone wanted to harm their media mogul father. Until that man was brought to justice, Tate needed a safe place to stay. No member of the Hunter clan would take a chance on the five-year-old being caught up in another incident like the one Sydney authorities were investigating now. After being run off the road then, later, shot at, his father had been assaulted and almost abducted. Tate had been with his dad and had been a whisker away from being kidnapped, too.

As Dex swept his gaze up and down the boulevard, deciding on the ideal place to dine—cozy and quiet without being too intimate—his cell phone buzzed. When he ignored it, Shelby seemed confused.

“That could be important,” she said.

“We’re on our way to dinner.”

“Where I come from, it’s rude to ignore a ringing phone or a knock at the door.”

He considered her big frank green eyes. This wasn’t the time to tell her that, in L.A. at least, people ignored phones all the time.

Dex answered the call.

On the other end of the line, his scriptwriter Rance Loggins blurted out, “It’s not working. You want Jada to confront Pete at the wedding, but I don’t think she should. It’s too predictable.”

“You’ll work something out. Sleep on it.”

“I thought you wanted this script finished.”

Dex flicked a glance Shelby’s way. She stood patiently, looking like a blend of angel and seductress in a pretty pink dress, glossy hair bouncing under its own weight and a warm breeze.

“Dex?” Rance interrupted his thoughts. “You there?”

“Swing by the office—”

“I’m out of town for a week starting tomorrow. It’s a pivotal scene.” Rance must have heard him push out a breath. “I’m only repeating what you told me. You want it right and you want it quick. This is all that’s holding us up.”

Hunter Productions had enjoyed a record opening weekend with their most recent release, Easy Prey, an action flick featuring one of the day’s biggest box office stars. Dex had other movies coming out but he had a good feeling about this one. The characterization was genius. He smelled smash hit. Awards.

Dex eyed Shelby again, caught the time on his watch. Right at seven. Two steaks, desserts, a bottle of wine, cat in the bag…

“I’ll be over after ten,” he told Rance.

Silence echoed in his ear.

“You’re fobbing this off because of a woman,” Rance said.

“No, I’m not.” Not in the usual sense.

“I thought you were committing yourself to building Hunter Productions back up. Making it strong again.”

Dex had known Rance a long time. He counted this man as a friend. Now Dex’s jaw clenched and voice lowered. He was laid-back, certainly. That didn’t translate into pushover.

“You’re forgetting who pays the bills,” he let his friend know.

“You need to make the cash to pass it on.”

Dex ended the call. With her own phone, Shelby was taking shots of the famous fashion shops on Rodeo Drive across the way.

“You need to cancel, don’t you?” she said, phone near her face as she clicked. “That’s fine. In fact, it’s best.”

Flicking back his jacket hem, Dex set his hands low on his belt. Damned if he’d let her get away that easily. If for some reason she gave notice at the café, he might never find her again. But Rance had a point.

While he’d refused to spend his life hunched over a desk at the office, until this latest hit, Hunter Productions’ books had favored the lean side. When he’d first come out here from Australia, a kid of twenty-five, a friend at the time had helped him with manipulating budgets. He’d learned a lot from Joel Chase, and had put in the kind of crazy hours his family might have trouble believing of him. Even so, if he had to tend to business tonight, he wouldn’t let this other important matter slide.

“Come along,” he suggested. “We’ll grab a bite afterward.”

“I’m not comfortable with that.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know you well enough.”

“I don’t own a wooden club, Shelby. I won’t knock you out and drag you away to my secret lair.”

Her gaze held his with a narrowed pondering look that said she wasn’t so sure. She was wary and, living in a place like L.A., wary was good. If she was cautious about going to some unknown address, it only showed common sense. Another plus.

He’d lay the rest on the table.

“My writer’s hit a snag with a script,” he explained. “The story’s a romantic comedy with an edge. We’re working on a pivotal scene where everything falls apart. The man who the female lead once loved—a man who cheated on her—is getting married to her friend and she’s invited to the wedding. Her date for the evening had to bow out so she’s gone on her own.”

The single line forming between Shelby’s brows suggested that she was intrigued so he went on.

“She’s sitting with a group of the bride’s relatives, who go on about how beautiful the bride looks in her gown. Then a clumsy waiter spills cucumber soup on the female lead’s dress.” When Shelby blinked, maybe remembering the splashed coffee incident earlier that day, he continued. “In her stained gown, she’s on her way to the restroom, asking herself why she’s putting herself through all this, when she runs into the groom.”

Shelby waited. “Then what?”

“We’re not sure.”

Exhaling, she glanced around at the same time she absently dropped her cell in her tote. A Santa Ana wind chose that moment to whirl around their feet, up their legs and into her bag. The gust picked up a loose paper—a card of some sort. Twirling out from the tote, it circled midair then swept toward the road.

Shelby snatched at it. Missed. Without thinking, she stepped off the curb at the precise moment a gleaming new V-8 sedan whooshed past.

Two

Dex leaped forward. At the same instant, the gust from the vehicle—or, perhaps, her own fear—propelled Shelby back onto the curb. Off balance, she smacked into him, then toppled sideways toward the pavement. Before she hit concrete, he caught her in a dramatic low-slanted pose.

While she lay stiff at a thirty-degree angle, his arms suspending her weight, Dex found himself studying her face. Her eyes, fixed and round with fright, were actually the most unusual mint-green mixed with flecks of blue. A tiny scar interrupted the sweep of one eyebrow. This close, her lips looked so much fuller.

Those lips moved now, quivering as Shelby managed a few hoarse words.

“Seems I’m still getting used to the traffic.”

A second of inattention and she might have ended up in the hospital, or worse. Instead she was lying here, her back a foot off the ground, her mind spinning and nerve endings crackling with awareness.

This was a city where stories came to life. Right now she felt as if she were in a movie: a girl far from home almost demolished by a moment’s distraction. Instead she’d been saved with the help of a tall, tawny-eyed man, who felt so hot and capable holding her in this tango-type dip that, if she weren’t so dazed, she might well melt.

Dex carefully set her on her feet. As the numerous sounds and lights faded back up, Shelby schooled her expression, straightened her twisted dress and told her rabid pulse to quit pounding so wildly.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Everything except my pride,” she admitted. “I feel stupid.”

Judging from the curious looks of passersby, her incident was a bigger draw than Bernice’s show.

“That paper that whipped out of your bag,” he said. “It must’ve been important.”

She remembered and her heart squeezed. “Sentimental value,” she replied. Now that piece of her was gone forever.

Dex crossed to a nearby base-lit palm tree and swooped down. When he returned, the paper—a photo—was in his hand. Shelby’s breath let out in a rush. Accepting it from him, she pressed the picture close for a second then placed it in her tote, in a zipped compartment this time.

“A person I respect very much,” he said, “used to say that sentiment is never overrated.”

While now didn’t seem the right time to ask who that person might be, Shelby decided she’d like the opportunity to find out…maybe over a late dinner.

“Is that invitation to visit your scriptwriter still open?” she asked.

His face broke into a big white smile. “Rance and I would be honored.”

A few minutes later, he was opening the passenger-side door of a sleek black Italian sports car. After she’d slipped into the leather bucket seat and buckled up, the engine growled to life and the pristine machine rolled into a break in the traffic.

“Does this sort of emergency script thing happen often?” she asked, trying not to double-guess this decision or feel overwhelmed. Far too much had happened today. She wouldn’t be surprised if she woke up and found this had all been a dream.

“When you decide to make a movie,” Dex said, changing up gears, “there are all kinds of challenges.”

“I imagine a room filled with smoke,” she said, “and a man sitting at the end of a long table, tapping away madly on a typewriter while someone else paces back and forth, head down, hands clasped behind his back.”

Dex sent over a look.

“A typewriter?”

She reconsidered. “Guess that’s a little last-century.”

“They have heard of the internet where you come from, right?” he teased.

“Oh, sure. We put a cow on a treadmill to generate the extra electricity.”

He laughed, and that warm deepwater feeling swirled around her again.

“I’m not a native to these parts, either,” he offered. “I grew up in Australia.”

“That explains the accent. I thought maybe British.”

“We Aussies have better tans.”

In the shadows, her gaze swept over his neck, his hands. From what she could see, he was naturally beautifully bronzed.

“Australia’s halfway around the world,” she said, forcing her gaze away from his classic profile—the strong jaw and hawkish nose. “What made you move here? Fame and fortune?”

Or had he run away from something? It happened.

“My family owns Hunter Enterprises.”

“Which owns Hunter Productions, I presume.” His movie company.

He clocked down a gear to take a bend. “My mother was born near your neck of the woods.”

“Oklahoma?”

“Georgia, actually.”

“Um, hate to tell you, but Georgia’s nowhere near Oklahoma.”

“Oh dear. I am still new to town, aren’t I?”

Smiling, too, she settled more into her seat. “Back to your story…”

“My mother and father found each other at a Fox Theater event. Dad was taken with her Southern charm and beauty. He proposed the next month.”

She grinned. “Your daddy’s a romantic.”

“He sure did love my mom.” Dex’s thoughtful smile faded. “When she died a few years back, he married again.”

“A nice woman?”

“My father thinks so.”

Heading down a less busy stretch of road, he stepped on the gas. With the engine growling and scenery slicing by, she waited for him to say more about his stepmom, but he didn’t, which seemed to say a lot.

Soon they rolled into a wide private drive situated in an upmarket neighborhood. A dark-haired man around her height answered the towering wood-paneled door. When he noticed her, the glare behind his trendy spectacles said he wasn’t pleased.

Shelby thought about turning on her heel and finding her own way back to her apartment. Instead she found the wherewithal to appear unaffected. She’d dealt with and survived those kinds of looks before.

The moment passed, introductions were exchanged and Rance Loggins invited them both inside.

Dex and Rance traded a few words as they moved down a glass-walled corridor that showcased the tropical gardens outside. In a room decorated in hardwood, gleaming steel and slate-gray leather, Shelby quietly took a seat on a cloud-soft sofa while Dex shucked off his suit jacket and draped it over the back of a chair.

As he began going over the problem scene with Rance, Dex lowered himself down beside her—too close, Shelby thought, yet strangely not close enough. Whether having him save her from hitting the pavement earlier or the simple fact the other person in the room wasn’t thrilled at his surprise company, she felt somehow safer knowing Dex was close. Safer and also hyperaware—of his scent. Of his heat.

His thigh was only a reach away, obviously muscled, long and strong. Her focus shifted to his polished big black shoes. Those feet sure would thump around in a pair of cowboy boots.

“So, what do you think?”

With a start, Shelby brought herself back to the conversation. Dex had spoken to her, and both he and Rance were waiting for a reply.

“What do I think about what?”

Rance reiterated the scenario—Shelby was sure more for his and Dex’s benefit than hers.

“The female lead was the groom’s girlfriend until he cheated on her. Broke her heart. Later he proposed to her friend. She’s at the wedding reception and has bumped into her ex. Now they’re standing face-to-face.”

Dex thatched his fingers behind his head and stretched out those long trousered legs. “She needs to slap his face. Stomp his foot. Throw a drink in his face. We just need the words.”

“I’m telling you,” Rance said, “there’s no surprise in that. The audience will expect it.”

Shelby wet her lips, took a breath. She could see it all so clearly.

“She needs to speak up. She needs to speak to everyone there.”

Dex lowered his hands and studied her. “You mean confront him in front of the entire reception crowd about his cheating?”

“She’s classier than that,” Shelby said. “She’d gather herself and, never feeling more alone, in her cucumber-soup-stained dress, with everyone knowing and pitying her, she’d ask for the microphone and say what a gorgeous couple the bride and groom make. How she wished them every happiness. When she hands back the mic, with tears glistening in her eyes, the audience won’t applaud. As she walks away, weaving between tables then out wide arched doors that let in the sunshine, every guest is quiet. They’ve heard the rumors. In their hearts they already know. Reese and Kurt’s relationship won’t last.”

“You mean Jada and Pete’s relationship.”

Shelby blinked across at Rance and gave a thin smile.

“Sure,” she said. “That’s who I mean.”

Dex sat mesmerized. What just happened? Shelby had no experience with scripts or storytelling as far as he knew, and yet she’d enthralled them both with her rendition of how this pivotal scene ought to play out. Except…who were Kurt and Reese? And an even bigger question now was…behind that homegirl front, who was Shelby Scott?

Running a hand back through his shock of dark hair, Rance jumped up. “Let’s get that down.” He slipped in behind the laptop, pushing aside the hard copy, which was fanned out over the tabletop. “We’ll need more backstory.”

Three hours passed, during which Shelby joined Rance at the table, Chinese was ordered in and the scene ended up in great shape. On his fifth cup of coffee, Rance turned at enough of an angle to sling an elbow over the back of his chair.

“Do you write, Shelby?” he asked.

“Not my strength.” Shaking back her mane of mahogany hair, she admitted, “But I watch a lot of movies.”

Dex pushed away his empty box of chow mein. “Have an all-time favorite?”

“You’ll laugh.”

“Bet I won’t.”

“I like silent movies,” she admitted. “I like Valentino.”

“So do a lot of women in L.A.” Rance stood and stretched his back. “The haute couture kind.”

She laughed, and Dex saw Rance’s face light in a way he’d never seen before. After a nasty bust-up, Rance hadn’t dated in over a year. Dex guessed that tonight his friend had decided the drought should end.

“I don’t have much interest in high fashion,” she said.

“You should.” Rance sauntered over to where she sat. “I’m sure high fashion would like you. The screen, too. I’m surprised Dex hasn’t offered you a read.”

“Of a movie role?” She set down her chopsticks. “I don’t much like talking in front of people unless they’re kids.”

While she explained her nanny background and how tonight’s meeting had come about, Dex mulled over her admission. He wasn’t sold. She had spoken in front of a crowd at least once in her life, and the mysterious Reese and Kurt had comprised the subject matter.

As if she’d read his mind, her green gaze hooked over and caught his. Then she studied the time on her drugstore wristwatch and declared, “I need to get home.”

“Beauty sleep?” Rance asked with a you’re beautiful enough shine in his eyes.

“Shift starts at seven.” She found her feet. She’d already explained her work as a waitress on The Strip.

“Shelby’s place serves the best cheeseburgers in town,” Dex said. “And the best coffee—when I can keep it in my cup.”

He and Shelby shared a private smile before she began collecting empty boxes. “I’ll clean up.”

“You’re my guest,” Rance insisted.

“Neither of you would let me pay my share. This is my contribution.”

“You’ve done enough with your help on that script,” Dex pointed out.

“More than enough,” Rance added.

But, her mind made up, Shelby had already gathered up the boxes.

When she was out of earshot in the kitchen, Rance readjusted his glasses.

“She’s not your regular flavor. At first I thought she was another wannabe actress hoping to ride on your coattails all the way up to leading-lady heaven.”

“And now?”

Rance held his heart. “I’m in love.”

That was Dex’s cue to laugh. But he didn’t. Instead he stood and offered his friend a warning.

“She’s off-limits.”

“I thought she said you liked her for a babysitting gig?”

“And I don’t need her distracted from her job.”

“This is for your little brother, right? A vacation. Some time building sand castles. Couple days doing Disneyland. You’re not signing Shelby to a five-year contract.” He tapped fingertips on top of his hard copy. “She might enjoy having a stab at a different kind of role.”

“Helping you with scripts?”

“Why not?”

He’d tell him why not.

“She’s young. A nice girl from a small town. She doesn’t need anyone confusing issues.”

“And I suppose you have no intention of throwing a few of your own complications in.”