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  “Of course.”

  “Tell me more about the story. When I read it I got the sense that there was some background history there that wasn’t being told.”

  Dahlia smiled, her eyes locking with his. She nodded her head slowly, her thoughts drifting ever so briefly. Guy was right, and his intuition gave her reason to pause.

  “There is history there. My history. The lead characters are modeled after my grandparents. They met in 1935 when my grandmother was barely fourteen and my grandfather was sixteen. They were inseparable from that moment on. Both of their parents had forbidden them to be together and they were defiant, doing exactly what they wanted instead. And when Granny became pregnant at a young age, it set off a chain of events that neither of them were really prepared for.”

  “And they really did meet in a dance hall?”

  Dahlia nodded her head. “My grandmother was an extraordinary dancer. She loved the music and being out on a dance floor. And my grandfather loved her and whatever it was that she loved.”

  “Your grandparents, are they still living?”

  She took a deep breath, a hint of tears misting her eyes. “No. He passed on when I was just a little girl, and my grandmother died last year. She was ninety-one.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Dahlia shrugged her shoulders as she took another deep breath. The memory of losing her beloved grandmother still haunted her. The woman’s passing had been expected; the family had sat vigil for almost a week in one of the best hospice facilities in the city. But even the knowing hadn’t been able to minimize the tremendous hurt that had completely devastated Dahlia when the moment had come.

  There was no missing the emotion that passed over Dahlia’s face. Guy found himself taken aback by her expression. The pain of it felt like a needle prick through his heart, and in that moment he would have done anything to take the hurt from her eyes and make everything well again. He resisted the temptation to reach out and touch her, to strum his fingers against the back of her hand and down the length of her arm.

  As if reading his thoughts, Dahlia pulled her hands back into her lap. She met his gaze, and his stare was like a soothing balm. Guy smiled. The warmth of it seared through her like a bolt of lightning. She gasped lightly.

  Clearing her throat, she finally said, “I am still fine-tuning the script. I’ve also felt like there was something that was missing in the story line, something I haven’t been able to define yet.”

  Dahlia then tossed him a smile of her own. “What I can tell you is that when they met, my grandmother had snuck out of the house to see Nat King Cole. He was performing at that dance hall. He was in his teens himself, his own career just beginning.”

  “Nat King Cole! Amazing!”

  “Granny thought so, too. She was enamored with the man and always said that Nat would be her second husband if my granddaddy didn’t act right.”

  Guy chuckled softly. “Good to know. ‘When I Fall in Love’ and ‘Dream a Little Dream of Me’ were two of my favorites of his.”

  Dahlia’s smile widened, pleasantly surprised that he was even familiar with the late crooner’s bibliography.

  Taking note of the astonished look in her eyes, Guy laughed heartily. “I am an old soul,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “Interesting.” Dahlia leaned forward in her seat, her elbows coming to rest on the table as she clasped her hands beneath her chin. She sat in quiet deliberation for a brief moment before continuing, “I’ll be honest with you, Guy, it’s looking like the studios are not going to back this project. Not as I had hoped they would. It seems that I will be producing this film independently, on a significantly lower budget, but I intend for it to rival any mainstream film production out there.”

  “So, what you’re telling me is that I won’t be making a million plus for this role?”

  “Not even close. Still interested?”

  Guy met her gaze and held it, intently studying the delicate lines of her features. Dahlia Morrow was a stunning woman. Even more beautiful than the magazine images of her that he’d seen. She had beautiful eyes, dark seductive orbs that a man could lose himself in if he were so inclined. Her full lips parted ever so slightly, her tongue snaking past to quickly lick the line of her mouth. When she did he felt an unexpected surge of heat through his groin. He suddenly reached for her bottle of water and took a deep swig.

  Eyebrows lifted, Dahlia laughed at his forwardness. “We can order you your own drink if you want,” she said, still giggling softly as she snatched her water bottle from his hands.

  Guy grinned sheepishly. “Umm...that’s umm...not necessary,” he muttered. “You looked like you didn’t mind sharing.” His expression was teasing as his eyes locked with hers for the umpteenth time.

  There was a pause as they sat staring at each other, both grinning widely.

  “You’re funny,” Dahlia said, finally breaking the silence.

  “Not as funny as you are, Ms. Morrow!”

  Dahlia rolled her eyes.

  “On a serious note,” Dahlia said, deliberately changing the subject, “this movie is proving to be more of a challenge than I anticipated.”

  “You’re a beautiful, black woman trying to move a mountain, Dahlia. No one said that would be easy.”

  “No, they didn’t. Nor did they say my wanting to move that mountain means you or any other man has to be there pushing with me.”

  Guy smiled. It was an easy lift to his mouth that warmed Dahlia’s spirit. “What kind of a man would I be if I wasn’t willing to give a woman who is so determined a helping hand?”

  Dahlia considered his question before responding. “Not the man I would want starring in my next movie,” she said as she extended a manicured hand in his direction. Dahlia didn’t miss his holding tight to her fingers a second longer than necessary, nor did she miss the heat that seemed to rise out of nowhere and radiate between them. She pulled her hand away, fighting not to show that she was uncomfortable with the sensations sweeping over her, vulnerability painting her expression.

  Grateful for the alarm, she stole a quick glance at her smartphone as it vibrated against the tabletop. “I look forward to working with you, Mr. Boudreaux,” she said as she stood up, moving to leave. “I will give your agent a call and make a formal offer. Welcome to my movie.”

  “The pleasure will be mine, Ms. Morrow,” he said as he came to his feet. He tossed her a quick wink of his eye. “And thanks for the water.”

  Dahlia laughed warmly. “Don’t thank me yet, Guy!” she said as she made her exit.

  Guy stared intently after Dahlia as she eased her way out of the room. His eyes were not the only ones to follow after her, and he had to appreciate the view along with her other admirers. Dahlia Morrow was captivatingly beautiful.

  Guy smiled widely, his gaze skating the lines of her formfitting dress. The red silk garment she wore was like wet paint slathered over the curves of her full bustline, thin waist and lush derriere. The woman had curves, a Rubenesque figure, all the stuff that could make a strong man beg on his knees for her attention.

  As the waiter paused at the table, depositing the unpaid tab for that one bottle of water, Guy had to laugh, completely intrigued by Dahlia. As he deposited a twenty-dollar bill onto the table, he hated to admit that begging on his knees had surely crossed his mind, if only for a very brief moment.

  Chapter 4

  Leslie shook her head as she stood with Dahlia’s requisite morning beverage in hand. Dahlia eyed her warily as she took hold of the cup and took the first sip of her drink.

  “What?” Dahlia questioned, her eyes wide with curiosity. “What now?”

  “You tell me,” Leslie said, blocking Dahlia’s path into her office.

  “I don’t have a clue what you’re referring to,” Dahlia said, her curiosity peaked.r />
  Leslie smirked, meeting Dahlia’s intense gaze. “Guy Boudreaux has been waiting for you. He’s in your office.”

  Dahlia stood like stone, her mouth falling open in surprise. “Guy Boudreaux?”

  Leslie nodded as she pointed to the closed office door. “And the casting agency delivered copies of his contract this morning. You didn’t tell me that Guy Boudreaux had said yes,” she whispered in a hushed breath.

  “Must have slipped my mind,” Dahlia whispered nonchalantly back. She took another sip of her drink, avoiding the look her dear friend was giving her.

  “Do you remember when Idris agreed to do your short film? You called me before the ink was dry on the paper.”

  “I did.”

  “And when Brad came on board for Victory you sent me a text message as the man was signing.”

  “And your point?” Dahlia queried.

  “You have a meeting with the black James Bond, the man agrees to be in your film and I only find out after the contracts are delivered and I find out from Guy and the delivery guy. That doesn’t sound out of the norm to you?”

  Dahlia shrugged as a wide grin filled her face. “Okay, so maybe it’s a little unusual.”

  “I wonder why,” Leslie said as she lifted a cashier’s check from the pile of folders in her hand and passed it to Dahlia. “He was just about to leave, and I was supposed to give this to you.”

  Dahlia looked from the check to Leslie and back, her mouth dropping open in surprise. The six-figure amount was significant, and the accompanying note threw the woman completely off guard. Dahlia read it once, then a second and third time.

  Leslie snatched the note from Dahlia’s hands. She read out loud, still whispering, “‘I look forward to doing business with you. We’ll negotiate my executive producer responsibilities over our next bottle. Your turn to buy this time. Guy Boudreaux.’”

  Dahlia shook her head as she moved in the direction of the door.

  Leslie stalled her one last time. “And Phaedra called. She and her new husband heard good things about your movie and they are also interested in investing.”

  Dahlia shook her head. “Phaedra has a new husband?” she asked as her hand reached for the doorknob.

  Her friend nodded. “A very wealthy husband. And her new hubby has very wealthy brothers, but then you already know that, right?”

  A look of confusion crossed Dahlia’s face. “I do?”

  Leslie laughed. “Uh, yeah! It seems she and your new executive producer are related by marriage.”

  Dahlia’s eyes widened considerably. “Phaedra married Guy’s brother? Why weren’t we invited to the wedding? Were we invited to the wedding?”

  Leslie laughed again.

  “Apparently, it was a quiet ceremony with just the two of them and their immediate families. Call her. Our sorority sister has a lot to catch you up on. And when you’re done with your new friend in there, I want to hear every detail about your meeting with Guy Boudreaux and that bottle you two shared. Can’t believe you didn’t tell me you spent time with that fine man,” Leslie fussed as Dahlia shook her head.

  Studying the generous check one more time, Dahlia wasn’t sure whether she should throw her arms around the man’s neck and hug him or squeeze the life out of him. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door to her office and stepped inside.

  Guy Boudreaux sat in the leather executive’s chair behind her glass-and-metal desk. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, his leather loafers resting on the desk’s corner. His cell phone was tucked between his ear and shoulder as he chatted easily with someone on the other end, all the while flipping through the papers that had been on her desk.

  As Dahlia closed the office door behind her, Guy greeted her with a wide grin and a slight wave of his hand. He seemed quite comfortable. Too comfortable, Dahlia thought. And damn, if he didn’t look good, too! Walking to where he sat, Dahlia snatched her files from his hands, a look of annoyance on her face. He continued to grin at her as she pulled his phone away and disconnected his call. She dropped the device into his lap, then gave him a not-so-gentle push to move out of her seat.

  “Executive producer? Isn’t that a stretch?” she questioned.

  Guy stood up, the length of his frame tall above her, and she was awed by the nearness of him. The man radiated body heat like an overworked furnace on a cold night. The heat was consuming, and she suddenly wanted to strip naked for relief. The sensations sweeping through her were unnerving. She took two steps back from him, fighting not to blatantly fan herself.

  Guy laughed. “Well, hello to you, too, Dahlia.”

  “Guy.” Dahlia eased her way around him to sit in her seat.

  As she passed, her shoulder brushed against his arm, and the connection was like an igniting flame. Guy felt his body tense; the scent of her perfume threw lighter fluid on his rising emotions. Every muscle hardened beneath his skin. Dahlia gestured toward the empty chair, wishing for some distance between them.

  Moving to the other side of the table and the cushioned chair in front of her desk, Guy sat down. He took a deep breath before he spoke, willing the tension away. “No, I don’t think it’s a stretch at all. In fact, I’m thinking it’s quite appropriate in light of my very generous contribution.”

  Dahlia paused, fighting to focus her eyes on anything except his face. “I’m willing to concede that. As long as you understand it’s strictly honorary.” She crossed her arms over her chest, finally lifting her gaze to his.

  Guy held her stare for a moment, startled by the intensity that pierced past her forest-thick lashes. The look she was giving him was intoxicating, and something like desire washed over him. He could only begin to imagine what she saw in his own eyes since desire was exactly what he was feeling for her. He crossed one leg over the other, hoping to hide the sudden rise of nature between them. He cleared his throat. “What? You mean you don’t want me to be hands-on?”

  “Truthfully, I want you to be exceptionally hands-off,” Dahlia emphasized. “You get a script, you memorize and deliver your lines like the professional I know you are and it’ll be all good between us.”

  “We’ll see about that,” he said lightly as he shifted the conversation, leaning forward in his seat. “What time are you buying me dinner tonight?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you know my friend Phaedra?”

  “Do you always answer a question by changing the subject with another question?” Guy countered.

  Dahlia shrugged, feigning disinterest. “I’m not buying you dinner. If anything, I’ll buy you a bottle of water, but that’s about it. I don’t mix business with pleasure, Mr. Boudreaux.”

  Guy nodded. “I’m glad to hear that,” he responded, feigning his own disinterest, “because my intent is strictly business. I do, however, try to eat three square meals per day. And since I’m on a strict regimen, there’s little that’s pleasurable about it, not even the prospect of your company. So, I should be done by seven o’clock. Shall we meet at eight?”

  Dahlia paused, the man’s arrogance taking her by surprise. There was a hint of teasing in his tone, and that annoyed her, as well. For a brief moment she thought about throwing him out on his very delectable behind, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’d riled her.

  “Tonight won’t work. I have another commitment,” she said finally.

  “A date?” Guy asked curiously.

  She ignored his query, amused that he would even think that he could question her plans. “I’ll meet you tomorrow afternoon at Roscoe’s,” she responded. “Can you do three o’clock?”

  Guy laughed. “Two would be better, so let’s split the difference. Will two-thirty work for you?”

  “Two-thirty it is,” Dahlia said.

  “Enjoy your date tonight, Dahlia,” Guy said, t
ossing her a quick wink of his eye. He stood up and made his way to the door. He stopped short, turning back around to face her. “Oh, and to answer your other question, Phaedra married my older brother, Mason. She and I are family.” His grin widened. “See you tomorrow, beautiful.” He made his exit, his expression eager at the prospect.

  Without responding, Dahlia leaned back in her seat. Leslie drew her attention as she cleared her throat in the doorway. The two friends locked gazes.

  “And you won’t do dinner why?” Leslie asked.

  “Were you eavesdropping?”

  “You know I was.”

  Dahlia shook her head. “Because he expected that I would just jump at the opportunity, and I’m not giving him that satisfaction.”

  Leslie laughed. “And lunch tomorrow will be your comeuppance?”

  Dahlia smiled. “It’s not dinner and he’s not dictating the where and the when.”

  Leslie’s eyes widened. “You like that man.”

  Dahlia’s face scrunched up in annoyance, her eyes narrowing to thin slits. “He’s an employee.”

  Leslie laughed again as she reached for Dahlia’s smartphone and accessed the calendar on the device. She quickly tapped an entry into the database before passing the gadget back to the other woman.

  “Something I don’t know about?” Dahlia questioned, scanning the month’s activity page.

  Shrugging her shoulders, Leslie exited the room, still giggling softly.

  Dahlia couldn’t miss the appointments Leslie had noted for the following night and each day thereafter. The woman had scheduled hours of quality time for her and Guy Morrow, each notation followed by a string of hearts.

  “Not funny!” Dahlia shouted. She had to laugh at her friend, shaking her head. But as she sat staring at the notation she couldn’t help but imagine the possibilities, because Guy Boudreaux definitely had her imagination running rampant.

  Dahlia couldn’t remember the last time any man had taken her breath away, and meeting Guy had done just that. Everything about the delectable man had put her on sensory overload and ignited a fire through every nerve ending in her body. Guy Boudreaux had been a refreshing departure from the usual characters she’d come to know in Hollywood. His down-to-earth persona overshadowed the bad-boy, playboy image he often portrayed. The man had been funny, intuitive and too damn sexy for words. In fact, Dahlia mused, blowing out a deep sigh, Guy Boudreaux had been too much man for her to even begin to fathom, and she was giving every ounce of him much consideration.