He frowned and tipped his head. “Why?”
“Because while your career is all about being seen, mine is all about being invisible.”
He pulled in a breath to respond, but held it. Connections clicked off behind his eyes. “You really think it would matter?”
“I know it would matter. Stars create enough drama. The last thing a director needs is a controversial crew. I’m in demand because I’m easy to work with, and I don’t screw around with my coworkers.”
“You’re in demand because you’re a kick-ass stuntwoman.”
“My skills may get me in the door, but my professionalism keeps me working. How many jobs do you think I’d get if I slept around with the cast or crew?”
Chase let out a long exhale. The spark in his eyes faded. “I get it.” He stroked her cheeks one more time. “Tonight, then. We won’t be coworkers anymore. I’ll pull you into a closet at the wrap party.”
As much as she wanted to cross that line with Chase, Zahara knew this wouldn’t be the last time they worked together. Which would make sleeping with him—even after this film had wrapped—a really bad idea and against all her self-imposed rules. Rules that had brought her a level of success she’d never believed possible.
But she wasn’t going to get into that here or now. If she started arguing with him, they’d never get topside. “Let’s talk about it tonight. Now, just tell Matt to pull us up.”
His mouth tipped into an adorable, come-on little smile. “Not even one kiss?”
Zahara kissed her own fingers, then laid them against his lips.
Chase covered her hand with his, holding her fingers against his lips as he returned the kiss. Then he threaded their fingers, dropped his head back, and yelled, “Pull us up, Matt. We’ve got a wrap party waiting.”
2
Chase watched the lights of downtown Los Angeles pass through the car window and ran his hand down the thigh of his slacks again. Thankfully, his Uber driver wasn’t a chatty guy, and alternative rock played on the radio.
Hope and fear over the night ahead tangled in his chest, a devious vine invading his lungs and wringing his heart. He was too invested. He wanted her too badly. And it wasn’t about the sex either.
Okay, yeah, it was sort of about the sex. Hell, how could a man look at her and not think about sex? Even the thought of the thought pushed blood between his legs, hot and prickly. But there was so much more between them. And that was where the nerves came in. Chase honestly didn’t know how long it would take him to get over her if she wouldn’t give them a chance. He was already dreading the weeks, maybe months, he would be left to his own devices before the next role came around. Normally, he enjoyed his downtime between gigs, but after being with Zahara practically every day for the last two months, he couldn’t imagine his days without her.
His cell rang, and he looked at the display. Mom. He considered answering, using a conversation with her to distract him from his nerves, but the driver slowed in front of the building where the movie’s producer kept a penthouse, so Chase sent the call to voicemail.
He tipped the driver and stood from the car. The early fall evening was warm, the night air buzzing with downtown activity. He tugged at his suit jacket and entered the foyer. He really didn’t want to suffer through this party, but he knew it was the last time he and Zahara would be obligated to be in the same place at the same time. And he had a feeling trying to pin her down after this would take a damn team of mercenaries.
He stepped into the empty elevator and took a deep breath to ease the tension singing through his cells. He watched the floor numbers light up as he ascended and rolled his shoulders. “Shit, this is worse than my first audition.”
He hoped winning her over now that they weren’t working together wouldn’t be as difficult as his gut predicted. She seemed equally impenetrable to charm and raw attraction. He honestly didn’t know what it would take to get her rules to bend.
With his mind so hyper focused on Zahara, he was a little disoriented when he finally made it to the thirty-seventh floor and stepped off the elevator into a sea of people and music.
Wandering through the crowd, he was greeted with congratulations and handshakes. He passed the bar and was handed a drink. Stopped by production company elites asking for a few minutes of his time tonight.
Chase found a place at the end of the bar where he could have more than a few inches of space and paused there to take a sip of his unknown drink. The tartness of grapefruit and the sting of vodka blended in his mouth, then seared his throat. He choked on the ratio of alcohol to juice and was about to put the drink down when his gaze found Zahara.
She stood beside the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room, chatting with a couple of her Renegades buddies and a few of the supporting actors on the film—all men. The ease with which she owned her place in that circle impressed the hell out of him. And, yeah, maybe it unnerved him a little too. Maybe that was one of the reasons he was so drawn to her. She was so damn together. So strong. So smart. So freaking levelheaded. She didn’t do drama. Worked her very fine ass off every day. Never complained. Got along with everyone. And as much as he hated the fact that she wouldn’t date him while they worked together, he also respected her focus and her values.
For a split second, Chase wondered if he’d know what to do with such a self-confident, self-possessed woman in the bedroom. The thought of finding out streaked fire through his gut, and all his uncertainty vanished. When he finally had Zahara in his arms, their chemistry would take over.
As if she sensed him, her gaze skimmed the room and almost immediately landed on him. Then held. Tingles raced across his shoulders. A fist squeezed his gut. She thrilled and terrified him at once.
She smiled. One of her go-ahead-handsome-give-it-your-best-shot smiles. Damn, she challenged him. And she knew it. He loved it. And she knew that too.
She held an almost-empty wineglass in one hand, the other resting on the arm of a white leather sofa. Her dress was simple and black, yet mouthwatering, filled out by her body. Her raven-black hair was down, sleek and shiny with one sparkly clip holding her long bangs out of her dark eyes. A thin silver chain hung on her wrist. She was simplicity and strength personified in one stunning package.
The buzz of nerves revved through his body, and Chase realized he was in real trouble here.
Trouble if he did. Trouble if he didn’t.