Stacy turned sharply at the sound of that deep attractive voice. ‘Sorry?’
‘By your costume I presume you’re working on the film,’ he repeated.
She looked down ruefully at her revealed curves in the low neckline of the dress she wore, her face flaming with colour as she realised this was probably the reason he had been staring at her and not because he found her attractive. He might only be an employee of Jake Weston but she felt sure he wouldn’t be interested in a young actress who was only just beginning to make a name for herself—had been. Now that she had been sacked she didn’t know what her next job would me, or when.
She nodded. ‘I was.’
Those blue eyes narrowed, the dark shadow on his chin evidence that he was one of those men who needed to shave twice a day. Stacy felt sure he would have a thick mat of hair on his chest too, his skin deeply tanned. She brought herself up with a start as she realised how intimate her thoughts of him had become.
‘Was?’ he echoed sharply.
Stacy was surprised by the intensity of his gaze. ‘I’m afraid so. I’ve been sacked,’ she answered abruptly.
‘You play the part of Kate,’ he said slowly, thoughtfully.
‘I did. Excuse me,’ she stepped out as the lift doors swished open at her floor. She was surprised when the man followed her out, while the lift moved swiftly up to the top floor, completely empty. ‘This isn’t your floor,’ she pointed out hurriedly, unnerved by his proximity.
‘I know that.’ He took hold of her elbow as someone walked past them. ‘Shall we go to your room?’
She snatched her arm out of his grasp, startled by his words. ‘How dare you!’ she gasped. ‘I may have spoken to you, but I certainly didn’t—’
His mouth turned back mockingly. ‘I’m not so stupid that I think a polite conversation in the lift entitles me to invite myself into your bed. I suggested we go to your room as a means of gaining privacy, we seem to be attracting quite a lot of attention standing here.’ As if to prove his point one of the porters walked by, turning back to stare at them curiously.
‘Well, yes. But why should we need privacy?’ she asked sharply.
He looked even more impatient. ‘I want to know more about the reason for your being dismissed from the film.’
Her green eyes widened. ‘Why? It has nothing to do with you.’
‘It may do,’ he contradicted curtly.
‘The fact that you work for Jake Weston doesn’t give you the right—’
His dark brows rose. ‘What makes you think I work for Jake Weston?’
She shrugged. ‘I—Well, you do, don’t you?’
‘I may do.’
She nodded. ‘I thought so.’
‘Mm
—well, now that you know I’m not just a curious stranger perhaps you wouldn’t mind telling me the reason you were fired.’
‘But I would,’ she said stubbornly. ‘The reasons are private and need only be known to the director and myself.’
Those blue eyes remained intent upon her. ‘I disagree with you. Don’t you think Mr Weston has the right to know the reasons too?’
‘Perhaps,’ she admitted grudgingly. ‘But you aren’t Jake Weston.’
He acknowledged this with a grim smile. ‘Perhaps not, but I could tell him.’
Stacy had to almost bend back to look up at him, he being at least a foot taller than herself if not more. He made her feel small and feminine, as if she could easily be crushed in his muscular arms, and it was a feeling she found strangely pleasing. ‘Why should he be interested in the sacking of a girl playing a minor role in a film he wrote?’
His mouth tightened as if in anger. ‘Because although you consider him to be—now what was it? Fat, bald and ageing? Mm,’ he nodded at her flushed face, ‘I think that was the way you described him.’
‘You know it was,’ she muttered resentfully. ‘I didn’t realise anyone had heard what we had to say.’