Page 1 of The Movie Star and the Spy

CHAPTER 1

“Remove your clothing, ma’am.”

Blue eyes blinked, slender shoulders edged closer. “All of it?”

The modern-day warrior showed no warmth, no sign the words affected him. He merely stood tall, focused on the designer blue jeans, the snowy white eyelet blouse he’d just banished. “I don’t know what you’re hiding, but I’m going to find out. You will submit to a thorough search.”

“Oh, Officer−”

The man stood to his full 6’3 height. His hair was black as night, his skin tanned from the sun, and his eyes like the arctic sea. The muscles on his arms bulged. “I’m a Federal Agent, ma’am. We don’t go by officer. Now start unbuttoning.”

“You’re… you’re not going to look, right?” she said coyly, come-hither lashes belying the tentative words. A small smile puckered pouty lips. “Unless you want to. I wouldn’t mind.”

“I have to look, ma’am. Otherwise, I won’t be able to see what you’re hiding.” He flexed corded muscles. “You are hiding something, aren’t you?”

The woman edged closer to the would-be lawman. Yet instead of pushing him away, she latched onto his chest likea clutching hawk, sharpened red fingernails stabbing the crisp fabric. He whispered a frown, as she tossed her head, blond hair flying. “Cut!” she screeched.

A symphony erupted: a curse from the director, moans from the crew − mostly male − sighs from the women gazing at the hero with unabashed adoration.

Far from the stunning couple, a purposeful nobody in a crowd of extras, Cheyenne Kirk released a shuddering breath, yet even that reaction was a slip. As was the involuntary shiver that seemed an earthquake to her normal poise, despite the heat the excess bodies provided. How had Julian Starcroft seized her attention, like the others? For just a moment, he’d held her in thrall.

Oh, she had nothing to be ashamed of, not truly. From the way her fellow actresses heaved in air as if starving for oxygen, he affected every female of the species the same.Excitement. Awe.Desire.Of course, the several hundred people crammed into the Miami Beach set represented only a small portion of the fans Starcroft commanded with every flex of those steel biceps as he solved the crimes of the silver screen.

Now he leaned back against the oak table, one muscular leg straining the material of crisp blue jeans. A small smile played at his luscious lips, capturing the attention of everyone in the room.

It always did.

“Miss Carter!” The director’s voice boomed through a bright red megaphone despite being all of three feet away from the sulking star. His icy stare did nothing to cool the heated room. “Only the director yells cut. I excused it the first time, and the second, and the third−”

“This was an emergency.”

“What’s the emergency this time?” The director threw the megaphone on a chair emblazed with the wordsSpy Heat. Heheld out his hand and was immediately supplied with a pristine white handkerchief, which he used to wipe his sweat-covered brow.

“He can’t undress me.”

Surprised twitters hit the air, gasps from the women who could not image greater fortune and chuckles from the men who would never be so lucky as Julian Starcroft. Of course, Cheyenne did not share their opinions. No matter how magnificently he filled out those jeans.

Julian raised an eyebrow, and collectively the crowd sighed. This time Cheyenne forced herself to adopt the same starstruck expression at the blasphemy being preached. It was vital she didn’t stand out as anything more significant thanSexy Woman Extra #12. Like all the others, she must appear to be in love with Julian Starcroft.

Otherwise, she would never fulfill her mission.

“I mean, it’s not that I don’t want him to undress me,” the star stated the obvious, and this time, even Cheyenne couldn’t maintain a neutral expression. The crowd giggled and snickered as the woman lifted a shoulder. “It’s just that it needs to be a body double. It’s in the contract − my agent would kill me if I took it all off. You know, image and everything.”

The director’s glare froze every smile. “This isn’t porn, Ms. Carter. No one is asking you to strip to your birthday suit. He just has to remove a few pieces of outerwear. When we edit it, you won’t see nearly as much.”

“Nope.” The stunning blonde’s silky locks whipped around. “What if someone uses their cell phone camera? I can’t take that chance. Where’s the body double?”

“On the set of another movie. You agreed to this earlier, so we didn’t schedule her until a week from Tuesday,” the director growled, throwing his handkerchief on the ground, where it was immediately retrieved by a thin, bespectacled intern. Thedirector motioned wildly, and within seconds the producer, studio lawyer, assistant and, of course, the would-be federal agent/undresser huddled in impromptu crisis control. A flurry of waving arms and raised voices commenced, and less than a minute later, the director once more addressed the pert starlet, “Fine, Miss Carter, you win. Take five. We’ll pull in an extra to work those scenes until the body double arrives.”

It was like dangling a pair of Louis Vuitton stilettos – fromnextseason.

First, a sliver of silence as the cast members processed the words, then murmuring as they realized the juiciness of the morsel, and then theypounced. They pleaded and implored, begged and cajoled, crying the evidence of their perfection for the role. They batted their eyes at the director, subtlety and not so subtlety pulled up dresses to reveal mile-long legs and stabbed surgically enhanced breasts forward. It was the chance of a lifetime − the opportunity to (sort-of) play leading lady to the hottest actor in Hollywood.

Everyone except her, of course. While the others moved forward like performers in a flash mob, Cheyenne edged backwards. She needed to fit in, but having Starcroft peel off her clothing was not part of the job. So what if he was 6’3, 220 pounds of solid muscle? So what if he had a deep voice that made you melt inside, eyes that invited you to drown in their depths? She wasn’t just a simpering fan, some lucky girl picked to get $120 a day for screaming about mobsters. She was aiming for a far greater prize:

A criminal.

The man in question was now talking to the director and scanning the extras. Suddenly the flaxen-haired beauty in front of her gasped, bringing a shuddering hand to her heart as if to make sure it still beat. Cheyenne looked toward the front, and this time even she couldn’t suppress a quick intake of breath.

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