Page 7 of The Movie Star and the Spy

“They’re going to get the wrong idea.”

Big Blue eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly.

“She could get hurt.”

Big blue eyes filled with… amusement?

Big blue eyes in a rugged, masculine face, in the hulking giant of a man wearing torn fatigues and giant blotchy stains of faux blood. “Excuse me?”

“Cut!” the director yelled for the third time in as many minutes, glaring daggers at his once prized lead actor. “What the hell was that?”

The owner of the big blue eyes grinned tigerlike. “I don’t know who you’re talking about, but she can talk to me anytime.” The would-be villain, the actor who also happened to be Julian’s best friend, Zachary Thompson, gave a devious wink. “It’s important to be friendly.”

Friendliness was commendable, but why was Destiny making moves on every male from the supporting actors to the production crew to the guy who delivered coffee? Julian glared at Zachary, then turned a more apologetic look at the director. “I’m sorry. I got distracted for a moment. It won’t happen again.”

But actually it might. Because although he’d never had to redo the same scene thrice in the span of three minutes in the entirety of his career, now he couldn’t act in an elementary school version of Little Red Riding Hood. What was the matter with him?

Destiny Dane was the problem. This was obvious forty-two seconds later as she squeezed the muscles of yetanotherman. How many men was she going to pursue in a single afternoon, because she was up to a baker’s dozen? He couldn’t hear the conversations, but he didn’t need to. She whispered in their ears with that secretive smile, rubbed their arms, arched her back to give them the best view of –wait. Had that extra touched her breast? If he was fresh with Destiny, the next productionhe would be in would involve incontinence products, kitty litter and–

“Julian!” Zach hissed the word, and from his genuinely surprised expression, he had said it more than once. “Are you there, buddy?”

“It doesn’t appear so.” The director twisted the script into a tight tube, then glared at his expensive smartwatch. They had been at it for hours –had he touched her again?– and it was far past their normal quitting time. “We can’t get one scene without my lead actor playing a zombie, and everyone knows I don’t direct science fiction. Can you get it together tomorrow, Starcroft?”

“Absolutely.”

Because he was going to do something about the problem today.

“That’s it, folks.” The director tossed down his script. With a parting glare, he stomped through the cavernous space, his assistants trailing behind him like overeager puppies. “Make sure to check your schedule in the morning.”

Julian gave a cursory wave, as his attention jetted back to the all-too-tempting body double. Now three men were eagerly staring at Destiny’s breasts. He took a step forward, yet a rough hand on his arm stopped him. “Hey, man, are you okay?”

Zach’s regard was reminiscent of the scene in which he was impaled by a sword: perplexed, alarmed and just a little bit stunned. He didn’t blame him. Flubbing lines, losing focus – it wasn’t him. Yet ever since he’d caught a glimpse of the beautiful blonde, he had been distracted, out of sorts even. His friend looked beyond him, saw his target. “Do you know her?”

Not nearly well enough. “Of course, I know her. She’s the new body double.”

“I know that,” Zach drawled. “I mean do you know her, know her? Like beyond the studio?”

“No.” Julian gritted his teeth as a set of four muscle-bound guys replaced the set of three that just left. “We just met.”

“Why are you so interested in her?”

“What makes you think I’m interested in her…” Julian’s words turned into a growl as one of the men pulled her closer, and another, this one surfer blond and notoriously cocky, slung his arm around her. She put a hand on his chest.

“Julian, are you sure….”

“I have to go.” Without waiting for a response, Julian took off for the other end of the set, where Destiny officiated over her flock. The extras moved out of his path, eyes wide at the storming, and he repressed the familiar discomfort. Even on set, he stood out, although far less than in public. He loved his fans, but people treated him like he was an exotic animal. His world mimicked a zoo, a life behind glass, a rare specimen belonging to others.

Fame did have its advantages, however, and one of them occurred as all conversation ceased upon his arrival to Destiny’s all male revue. She had hooked arms with two men, and far more surrounded her. One of them slid his hand down to brush the actress’ nicely rounded rump. Julian glared.

The man dropped his hand, and his jaw, as he stared at Julian. Expressions ranged from admiration to surprise to annoyance, yet Destiny stood stiffly, with a blank mask that revealed nothing. It played stark contrast to her animated countenance seconds ago. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

Shock rocketed the group at the clearly combative statement. Destiny, apparently realizing her mistake, quickly continued, “Not that you’re not welcome, of course.” Her tone was now placating, yet somehow conveyed he was completelyunwelcome. Ah yes, she was once more gritting her teeth.

He smiled.

She frowned.

No matter how she tried to pretend, he affected her. She had been in the middle of some sort of campaign to charm the entire male population of Miami, and he had just ruined it. Perfect. “I saw your little group and wanted to join in on the fun. What’s the plan?”

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