Over Exposed (7 page)

“Is that it?”

“Well . . .”

Aw hell, he hated when she said that. “Just spit it out. What else?”

“Mark's been awfully quiet the past few days and I've learned to be wary of that.”

Mark Schumacher was his company's chief financial officer. Greg trusted him implicitly, but everyone knew when he went quiet, he was doing numbers in his head. And that meant numbers weren't adding up somewhere else.

“He only went silent two days ago but, well, you know what that means.”

“Yeah, I do.” It meant they had a film threatening to go over budget and that meant Greg would need to get involved.

“Shit.” The curse came out a little harder than he'd intended. “Steven or Amanda?”

He couldn't imagine it was Amanda. Amanda Maitland was only twenty-two and out in the middle of nowhere Iowa filming a quirky, character-driven script she'd also written. Her last film had earned her Drama Desk and Directors Guild nominations and enough Oscar buzz to make Greg throw some money into a promotional push for the independent film he'd picked up at Sundance.

Steven Lawler's adaptation of a popular young-adult bestseller had blockbuster written all over it. If the famously temperamental director could keep a lid on himself. Greg typically managed to keep the guy on track, but he'd been out of touch lately, hadn't he?

So when Trudeau said, “Amanda,” his brain hit a roadblock.

The girl had one hell of a brilliant brain, but she
was
young and this was her first studio film.

“Do I need to catch a flight?” Meaning, had Trudeau already booked him a flight? Sometimes his assistant was ten steps ahead of him, which was exactly why he'd tried to put a “'til death do us part” clause in her contract.

“Not yet. I'll corner Mark. See what's going on.”

They rang off a few seconds later, after she'd promised to be in touch soon.

With the phone still in his hand, Greg considered calling Mark himself, but he knew if he made that call, his time here was over. And that's exactly why he'd tried not to have his phone close at hand all the time.

Okay, now he needed to get out of this room and leave his phone behind. He wasn't going to get any work done.

And he wanted to talk to someone—

No, not true.

He wanted to talk to Sabrina.

Usually, he had no problem controlling his cravings. Not so much today.

He checked downstairs first but didn't see her anywhere. Back upstairs, he checked her room. She didn't answer when he knocked and he debated just walking in. Good sense prevented him, knowing it'd be a huge breach of privacy. The other half of him wanted to kick in the door, maybe rifle through her underwear for a souvenir.

Yeah, maybe he should just go back to his room and lock himself in.

A faint thumping from somewhere above caught his attention and he followed it like a beacon.

The door to the suite at the top of the building hung open and he forced himself to stop and seriously consider his next move.

He'd been upstairs. He knew what the suite looked like. Jared Golden's fiancée, Annabelle, had taken a special interest in that room and created a sensualist's dream.

Where Jared had chosen a Victorian theme for the Salon at Haven, this room looked like something out of a sultan's wet dream. And he totally meant that in a good way.

He was halfway up the circular staircase before his brain said, “Ya know, this is probably a really bad idea.”

Luckily for him, his feet didn't listen.

At the top of the stairs, he took a moment to appreciate the sheer visual beauty of the room.

He had no idea what it'd looked like before Annabelle had gotten her hands on it. He knew the round bed had come with the building, probably because the huge, custom-made piece would've had to be dismantled to get it out of there. It fit the dimensions of the circular room perfectly.

And Annabelle had gone from there.

Deep, rich purple and red silk covered the walls and windows. A canopy of white gauze draped over the bed along with white silk bedding. Every light in the room, all of which looked like lanterns, had a bulb that flickered and bathed the room in simulated candlelight. A chaise lounge made for two sat under the huge windows that took up nearly half of the wall space. A floor-to-ceiling armoire was the only other piece of furniture in the room. It really didn't need anything else.

Except for the artwork hanging along the walls from ribbons draped over a suspended rod.

Greg couldn't tell a Picasso from a Pollack but he knew what he liked. And he liked these.

They were black and white and looked like pen-and-ink drawings showing couples and threesomes in all manner of erotic poses. Nothing explicit, but just looking at them made his cock hard.

He wondered what Sabrina thought about them. Did she look at them and get hot?

Shit, he really should head back downstairs.

But did he? Of course not.

“Sabrina? Are you up here?”

A muffled thump followed by a curse came from the attached bath, and he headed for the door to find her on her knees on the floor, rubbing the back of her head.

“Hey, you okay?”

He crouched down beside her, cupping her nape as she gave him a dirty look. Which made him smile. Hell, everything about her made him smile.

“No. You startled me and I hit my head on the cabinet. Which is kind of hard, so, ouch.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

She shrugged and made a motion to get up, not meeting his gaze. “Not your fault.”

Standing, he reached down to help her up and, when she tried to release his hand, he didn't let go.

Now she did look up, lifting her eyebrows at him.

“Yes, it was my fault. I didn't mean to startle you. What are you doing up here?”

She tugged on her hand and this time he let her go. “Stocking cabinets. I figured I could get some housekeeping stuff done. I get bored easily and it helps me think.”

“I know the feeling. So are you finished in here?”

“Why?” Her question held a wary tone and his grin widened.

“Because I think we could both use a break.”

Her arms crossed over her chest and he had to fight the temptation to look down awfully hard.

“And what do you have in mind?”

He wanted to go back on his earlier statement and throw her on the bed in the next room.

“How about you help me stage a few photos? I told Tyler I'd do some promo shots while I was up here.”

He really didn't need her help and Tyler didn't really expect him to do those photos, but now that he was with her, he didn't want to be alone in his room again.

And he should have known she'd call him on it.

“I thought you didn't want to see me until tonight?” Her eyes narrowed and he found her suspicion hot as hell. “What changed? Is something wrong?”

“Why do you ask that?”

She paused. “No reason. I guess. So . . . what kind of photos?”

He had to laugh at the wariness in her expression even as he held back from kissing the look off her face.

“Not those kind.” At least not now. But later . . . “Promo photos for the website and for print ads, but not your standard magazine shots. More artistic than promotional.”

Her eyes narrowed even more as she thought about that. “Okay. But how can I help? I am the least artistic person you will ever meet.”

“I bet that's not true.”

She gave him a raised eyebrow. “You don't know me that well.”

No, he didn't. And he wanted to change that. Didn't matter if it wasn't smart. “Don't worry. I will.”

He underlaid the words with enough sexual heat to make her blush. Which then made her scowl.

He hadn't had this much fun flirting with a woman in . . . hell, he didn't know how long.

And even though in the back of his brain he knew he had a problem brewing in L.A., he managed to set that aside and focus on her.

“So, pictures.” She didn't step away, and he liked having her this close. “Where's your camera?”

“In my room.” And since he wasn't sure he could keep to his resolution not to touch her until tonight if she was that close to his bed, he didn't ask her to come with him. “I'll meet you in the lounge.”

“Do you want me to get anything? Props or something?”

He hadn't thought that far ahead.

“Maybe a tray and some dishes?” she said. “Or a robe. Ooh, or maybe some of Kate's lingerie. She's got a few pieces stashed in the boutique.”

His brain began to see images and he nodded. “Yes, to all of it. Meet me there in five minutes.”

Three

Watching Greg work made Sabrina hot.

The camera looked small in his hands, and the way his fingers curved around it made her wonder how they'd feel cupping her breasts.

The last time she'd seen him with a camera in his hands, he'd been taking pictures of her and she'd been desperately trying not to show how turned on he'd made her.

Now, she honestly didn't care. She'd already made up her mind.

She was going to have him tonight.

“Move that pillow to the left. Yeah, right there. Good.”

He lifted the camera and she faded out of his sight line and out of his notice.

It gave her the chance to watch him unobserved.

He handled the camera with the ease of long use, almost as if it were an extension of his hands.

They'd started in the lounge, moved to the community room, then headed upstairs to the bedrooms. Since each one was different, they'd started at one end of the hall and worked their way down, skipping the rooms they were using.

While the tower room was Annabelle's masterpiece, all of the rooms were unique. And sensual. And filled with items designed to arouse and soothe. Strangely enough, it all worked. She'd chosen to stay in the night-sky room. At least that's what she called it. The walls and ceiling were painted a deep, midnight blue, and they gleamed at night because they'd been dusted with glow-in-the-dark glitter.

The artwork shared a common theme but, where the other rooms were all linked by one artist, this room had several. The only common theme was the outdoor setting.

Greg had chosen the room directly at the top of the stairs, probably because it was the first one he'd seen. Or maybe he liked the intensely masculine theme. Black silk sheets on the bed, black-leather upholstered furniture, wine-red walls. Beautiful, framed mirror over the bed. Yes, over the bed.

Only one painting hung in his room but its sexual nature was hard to mistake. It showed a woman artfully bound by ropes. Tastefully, of course. But still hot enough to peel paint.

“Alright, babe. Let's take a break. I have enough to get started. And you look like you could do with some food.”

Blinking out of her thoughts, she looked up at Greg, standing not quite within touching distance.

“Um, yeah, sure. What do you want to eat?”

“How about I make you something? You cooked last night.”

“But I'm here to take care of you.”

The second the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to take them back.

Oh, hell.

And when he started to grin, well . . . had it suddenly become hotter than a furnace in here?

“Yeah.” He let out a snort of amusement. “I know exactly why Tyler sent you. But it wasn't to be my slave. You helped me this morning, so I'll cook for you. Deal?”

When she continued to hesitate, he finally said, “I can cook, you know.”

“I'm sure you can, it's just that . . . it's kind of my job.”

Waving her out into the hall in front of him, he walked behind her as they went back to the kitchen.

“I don't want to be treated like a customer. For the time we're here, were not Guest and Employee. Just Greg and Sabrina. Okay?”

Yes. Please
. She wanted that. She hadn't known how much she wanted it until he'd suggested it.

It wasn't right. The Goldens were paying her to take care of Greg while he was here. But she
so
wanted this time with him, knowing it would never happen again.

“Okay.”

His smile made the bottom drop out of her stomach.

She took a deep breath to steady herself. “So what are you going to make me?”

They started down the stairs. “The best damn grilled cheese sandwich you ever had.”

*  *

“So now what? Are we doing more pictures?”

Sabrina leaned back in her chair at the small table in the kitchen, looking considerably more relaxed.

Greg had noticed the strain in her eyes before they'd stopped for lunch. He'd felt the same strain himself and it left him with an ache in his groin. The anticipation was making them both crazy but in a good way.

His brain kept coming up with a whole host of different ways he was going to take her, but they were butting up against the ideas flowing for the screenplay. He wanted to get back to his room and write, but he also wanted to lay her out on the table and sink between her thighs.

“No, I think I'm going to get some writing done.”

She didn't look surprised or disappointed. “Okay. I have things I need to do.”

The least she could have done was be a little pissed off that he wanted to abandon her for a while. “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“Tyler asked me to work on the descriptions of the rooms for the website and the brochure.” She shrugged. “I guess he figured I'd have time on my hands.”

Greedy bastard that he was, he didn't want her to spend time on anything but him. Then again, the girl was just starting her career and wanted to make a good impression. He couldn't fault her for that. And he didn't want to stand in her way.

“Want any help?”

She smiled at him, a true smile this time. “No, but thanks. It'll keep me busy and I think I'll like it. I enjoyed the one business writing course I had in college so maybe I'll be good at it. Then again, I might suck, but at least I'll be busy.”

He knew of several ways to keep her busy, but he bit his tongue and rose to help her clear the dishes.

He could tell she wanted to tell him not to help her with the dishes by the look she gave him, but she didn't open her mouth. Instead, she made sure they only had to make one trip to the dishwasher.

She shooed him out seconds later, and he headed back to his room with a smile and a brain full of ideas. He took the stairs two at a time, anxious to get back to his desk. And didn't get up for two hours straight.

When his neck finally protested that it'd been in the same position for too long, he wrote a few more notes before he forgot them, saved the file twice, then stood.

Stretching out the kinks, he spied the camera he'd used this morning next to his laptop. He picked it up, thinking maybe he'd take some more shots.

Or maybe he'd just find Sabrina and take some shots of her.

He checked her room first. Not there. Then he looked down the hall and found the door to the tower room open.

That's where he found her sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, laptop open in front of her, eyes closed, fingers typing away.

He leaned against the doorjamb and looked at her.

The girl was not what contemporary Hollywood would call beautiful but, damn, she was sexy as all hell. She had curves. Gorgeous curves he wanted to run his hands over. And those dark eyes. And that mass of golden brown hair he wanted to see spread all over a pillow.

The hunger he'd been diverting into writing for the past two hours renewed its focus on its primary target. He didn't want to wait until tonight to get his hands on her.

Standing away from the door, he lifted the camera and snapped off a few shots.

Fingers freezing on the keyboard, her eyes flew open and widened further with each step he took toward her.

When he stood by the bed, she closed the laptop.

“Are you finished?”

She shook her head. “I can put it aside for a while if you—”

Her teeth lodged in her bottom lip, halting whatever else she was going to say. Like, maybe,
if you want me.

Which is exactly what he wanted.

Setting his camera on the bedside table, he held out his hand for the laptop, which she handed over silently.

Setting it next to his camera, he kneeled on the bed and reached for her. He wrapped one hand around the back of her head, tilting her face up to his.

Then he kissed her.

Holy hell. His blood turned to lava and his cock throbbed.

There was no hesitation in her kiss this time, no surprise. If anything, she seemed eager. And willing.

He didn't have the patience to coax her to open her mouth for him. He just demanded entrance with his tongue. She gave it to him willingly as her arms wrapped around his waist and her hands spread across his back.

She kissed with a sweetness he'd been expecting and a heat he was dying for. He'd burn in it for the rest of the day and ask for more.

With their tongues entangled, his free hand smoothed over the curve of her ass, pressing her closer. The warmth of her burned through her jeans into his skin, and he wanted to feel her naked and pressed against him. Wanted to lay her out on the bed and explore every naked inch of her body.

His hunger grew and he pressed his mouth harder against hers, wanting more of her. When he couldn't satisfy his craving with only her mouth, his lips slid away to press kisses along her jaw to her ear.

He bit the lobe, hard enough to make her flinch but not enough to cause pain. Well, maybe just a little. But he loved the feel of her body as she shivered against him. Nuzzling his nose into her hair for a second, he continued his exploration of her body with his mouth on her neck.

But he didn't get far. Her damn sweater got in the way. He pulled back, just enough to glance down at the mounds of her breasts pressed against his chest. Her fingers clenched on his back, as if she thought he was pulling away, making him grin.

“It's time to get rid of this.” He released her and grabbed the hem of her sweater with both hands. Then he paused, checking to make sure she was still with him.

She stared up at him with wide, slightly dazed eyes, and he wondered if he was going too fast for her. Then he felt her hands move from his back to his sides and slide under the edges of his T-shirt.

“Only if yours comes off, too.”

Desire made his balls tighten. “Anything you want, sweetheart.”

She blinked and sucked in a barely audible breath before she started to tug up his shirt.

He released her sweater long enough for her to pull his shirt over his head. Her gaze immediately dropped to his chest.

“Very nice.”

Her appreciative words made him laugh. Yeah, he worked out whenever he could because he had way too much energy otherwise. Side benefit being he didn't have an ounce of flab.

He reached for her shirt again but her hands landed on his chest and began to stroke through the fine hair that covered his pecs. He paused, his body responding to her touch like a lightbulb to electricity. His nerve endings lit up as she ran her fingertips along his collarbone then traced down the center of his chest to his belly button.

His stomach muscles tightened as she skimmed his belly button then continued on to the waistband of his jeans. Her fingers slipped just below the edge for a brief second before she spread her fingers wide and curved them around his hips.

Sinking his hands into her hair, he tugged her mouth up to his for another breath-stealing kiss before he released her and grabbed that sweater.

“Lift up.” His voice held a definite rasp now—he wanted her naked.

She obeyed without hesitation, her gaze holding on to his as he dragged the sweater up her body and over her head. Then he let himself look.

Her bra had to be at least a C cup, black lace straining to encase gorgeous, golden breasts. They jiggled slightly as she breathed, and he wanted to bury his face between them before he pulled the lace aside and sucked on her nipples.

Lifting one hand, he traced the edge of a cup. He barely touched her skin but she caught her breath, forcing her breasts even tighter against the lace.

“One of Kate's?”

He'd bet money it was. It had the lingerie designer's sense of refinement all over it.

“Yes.”

Her voice held a husky edge and she finally began to breathe again, which made her breasts move in ways that had his mouth watering.

“Beautiful.”

“Kate makes them especially for me.”

“I wasn't talking about the bra.”

Her breath caught again but released on an audible moan when he cupped her with both hands and lowered his head so he could press a kiss to each plump mound. Her back arched, pushing herself more tightly into his hands.

Naked. He wanted her naked. Right now.

Snaking one arm around her back, he unclipped the bra then leaned away to look down. The straps fell down her arms but the cups stayed in place. Releasing her, he hooked one finger in the middle of the bra and tugged. It didn't come easily—it clung to her skin, but he was determined. Finally, he drew it down her arms and tossed it on the pile with her sweater.

She stayed still beneath his gaze as she let him take in her glorious nudity. So beautiful. So feminine. Full breasts, erect nipples, rounded belly, curved hips.

So fucking gorgeous. He wanted to take pictures. He'd never show them to another soul. He'd hoard them like a miser.

She was his. And he wanted her all to himself.

He wanted to brand himself onto her skin. Keep her under him and make her moan for the next several hours until she fell asleep, exhausted. Then he'd feed her and continue through the night.