Page 3 of The Movie Star and the Spy

Cheyenne lifted her lips in a smile. Well, she tried to, but her mouth wouldn’t quite rise, and the whole thing tumbled. Why hadn’t she spent more time learning about Starcroft? Because she wasn’t supposed to interact with him and had more than enough to memorize with the intricacies of the case. Perhaps this was good. Now that he knew of her subterfuge, he might let her out of the role. If he realized she didn’t want the part, then maybe−

“Are you ready to be undressed, Miss Dane?”

Well, that was as daunting as when a perp calmly informed her he had rigged explosives all over the city. But she hadn’t a choice. If she wanted to find the criminal mastermind luring young and beautiful extras to his high paying call girl service, she would have to pretend to be exactly that. “I’m ready.” Her voice came out more breathlessly than intended, but at least it matched the character she was portraying.

Julian didn’t hesitate. He leaned down, and his heated breath fanned her cheek. “I’d ask if you were having second thoughts, but I don’t think you ever got over your first ones.”

That infuriating man. He realized she didn’t want the part, yet he didn’t release her from the intimate duty, despite the hundreds of willing women clamoring to take her place. As he led her to the front of the set, Cheyenne strode rigidly behind. She had to pretend to like it. “Of course, I’m not having second thoughts. This is a dream come true.”

“Getting undressed by me?” His drawl slipped into her blood, turning it to simmer.

She stiffened. “Of course not. I meant for my career. I’m a professional, you know.”

“Are you?” Julian let out a low chuckle. “I’d love to hear about Miss Excavator Falls.”

“Oh, it was wonderful. Lots of excavators and diggers and tractors and more excavators.” She sounded like a toddler picture book. She cleared her throat. “Too bad they don’t have a Mr. Excavator Falls. You would be the undisputed favorite.”

“It would have catapulted my career to the next level,” he rumbled. “But are you sure you can handle being stripped before an audience?”

She stopped short, causing the director to pummel into her back. She would have fallen save for Julian, who caught her, stopping her fall by pulling her flush against his rock-solid chest.

Oh, yes.

Or no. No, no, no. Being pressed against him was bad.

But a so-small-it-was-barely-existent part of her insisted – oh, yes.

Heat surrounded her, emanating from the man who held her captive. Normally stalwart senses dimmed, as her entire world focused on the body she touchedallover. Her co-workers had suggested Starcroft wore padding, yet every breath proved he was completely authentic. It was like being pressed against steel − fiery hot, organic, possessive steel.

She moved back – or at least shetried. He didn’t let go. She glared at the man who would dare capture her, for once seeing past the actor’s fame, beyond the façade he showed the world, to the raw emotion underneath: desire, passion, possessiveness.

“What are you doing?!” the director thundered. Julian ducked his head, then released her so suddenly she almost fell. When she looked back at him, his mask was once again firmly in place.

She had to do something before she attracted any more attention. Hopefully the criminal she hunted would not disqualify her because of her newly assigned role. The more attention she received, the more likely he would stay away. “Everything is fine. I was daydreaming and lost my step.” By narrowed eyes and suspicious expressions, it wasn’t enough. Time to forgo every shred of dignity for the sake of the role. She pressed her hands over her heart. “My knight in shining armor, you saved me! How can I ever repay you?”

The director rubbed his eyes, but Julian’s flashed fire. A sudden unease pricked. Hopefully he would not truly ask for repayment.

“You’re going to stay perfectly still while I remove all your clothing.” His muscles flexed. “What more can I ask?”

Her shiver gifted the expected reply. She was playing the part of simpering female a little too soon and a lot too well. As soon as she returned home, she would definitely schedule some quality time at the sparring ring.

Before Julian could touch her again, she strode ahead, ignoring the scrutiny that followed her like a weighted blanket. She had been in tense circumstances before. Hostage situations. High speed car chases. Shootouts with the armed and dangerous. Yet somehow those seemed tame compared to standing next to Julian Starcroft, waiting for the director to give him permission to expose her.

Finally, they were at center stage, and in position. “Is everyone ready to begin?” The director leafed through his script, spreading his ever-present scowl. “Any more objections?”

About a thousand. Yet Cheyenne said nothing as the director gave her a second’s glance before moving on. Julian crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m ready.”

“Then let’s start.” The director motioned to his assistant, who handed Cheyenne a script. “Since we’re evaluating cameraangles and not filming the final product, it won’t matter that you’re reading from the script. Just be as natural as possible.”

Pretend she didn’t want to be undressed by the muscular actor? No problem. Of course in the movie, the heroine actuallydidwant to be undressed by him. But this was real life, not the movies, and she was an undercover cop and not a criminal hiding a weapon under her jeans. Actually, it was fortunate she had decided to forgo her weapon until she had some leads. Explaining a real gun would have been far beyond her fledgling acting abilities.

“Let’s take it from where you left off.” The director sat in his oversized chair, royal blue and emblazoned with sparkling gold letters. He picked up his megaphone. “Action!”

Cheyenne gripped the cool, crisp white paper in her hands, yet her part was as absent as her clothing would soon be. If only there was a distraction while she found her lines. Where was a bank robbery when you needed one? It didn’t have to be a bank robbery. She’d take a train holdup, hostage situation or even a fun little zombie apocalypse. Maybe the zombies could hold up a train on the way to the bank robbery, and then take hostages. She flipped through pages as throats cleared, as extras giggled and the director sighed loudly, when suddenly the script was lifted from her hands, caught in the grasp of one very strong hero who was apparently as anxious to undress her as she was to flee the studio. He deftly flipped through the pages, found the right one and held it out for her. His expression tangled challenge with a dash of confusion, not surprising since even an extra should know how to navigate a script. If she wasn’t careful, the clever man would move from confusion to suspicion and then to enlightenment, and then she’d be explaining how a movie star upended a professional police operation.

The words on the paper danced into blurry ribbons as the paper bent in her clenched hands. She cleared her throat, read her first line, “Um, please be gentle.”Be gentle?!“Really?”

Julian blinked. Oh, yeah. A real actress would not give commentary. “I mean I really want you to. Be gentle that is. Yes, exactly.”

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