To Catch a Star (3 page)

And yes, she was perfectly aware this was a case of pots and kettles. Just because she was now engaged to Stefan and would soon be married herself didn’t mean she wasn’t hurt Fredrik had moved on so quickly too.

“They’re calling me the location liaison, but really it’s just a fancy title they’ve given me because the mayor of Los Pajaros refuses to deal with anyone else. Rik and I are headed back tomorrow. The production team there have hit a few snags.” Kenzie bit her lip. “In fact I’ve never known so much to go wrong on a shoot before.”

Which explained why Kenzie wasn’t the one doing the snooping. “No one’s wondering why I’m being given the job over someone more experienced?”

Kenzie laughed. “That’s the thing. Westerwald doesn’t have much of a film industry, certainly nothing like the scale of this movie. There are no film-experienced PAs here.” She dropped her voice. “And the work permit application to bring in someone from London has been held up by red tape.”

Highly unlikely. Westerwald’s bureaucracy functioned like clockwork. But Tessa had a very good idea
who
had held up the application. “So what do I need to do?”

“It’s very simple. You’ll be the main contact person between Christian and this office. Every day you’ll be issued a call sheet for the next shooting day. You let Christian know what time he needs to be on set, then in the mornings you check that the driver is ready and waiting on time. If there are any delays, you let the second AD know, and if there are any changes to the schedule, you let Christian know.”

Tessa raised an eyebrow. It sounded like a lot of hand-holding. Most grown men she knew were quite capable of setting their own watches without their PA’s help. Stefan certainly was.

No wonder celebrities turned into such arrogant monsters if they didn’t even have to take responsibility for getting themselves to work on time.

And Christian was definitely a monster. What rational person would slam the car door on her and stalk off just because she hadn’t fawned all over him?

Kenzie handed her a folder. “This is from Christian’s publicist back in LA. He has a few promotional commitments you’ll need to manage: you’ll need to coordinate the arrangements for a premiere in Paris after filming here in Westerwald is done, and there are a few press interviews, a photo op or two… that sort of thing.”

Like the charity banquet he hadn’t attended last night.

“Anything else?”

“You might be expected to make dinner reservations, perhaps do a little personal shopping… ” Kenzie looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, Teresa. I know this is a terrible imposition, and I’m so sorry to ask it of you, especially since you have your wedding coming up.”

Tessa gave a cool smile. “It’s no problem. And my friends call me Tessa.”

Relief blazed in Kenzie’s face. “We can’t thank you enough. With everything that’s going on back in Los Pajaros I just don’t have time to look into this, but Rik is very concerned. He’s very grateful for your help.”

But not enough to pick up the phone and talk to her himself.

Kenzie escorted her along the corridor, introducing her to a dozen people along the way, the casting director, the production people, the assistant directors.

She still had to pass an interview with Gerry, the unit production manager. While she’d never had to interview for a job in her life before, this one was a walk in the park compared to the grillings her father subjected her to.

“Christian’s easier than most,” Gerry said, leaning his elbows on the desk between them. “He’s not one of those stand-offish stars with an entourage around them who won’t look you in the eye or who’ll treat you like his skivvy. He’s very approachable and easy-going.”

Which didn’t gel with the first impressions she’d got. He’d exuded so much testosterone that “easy-going” was the very last thing she’d have described him as. She hoped Gerry was right and the man she’d met last night was nothing like the man she was about to meet.

“I’ve worked enough diplomatic parties to be able to handle whatever he throws at me,” she replied. Her voice sounded way more sure than she felt.

“I like you,” Gerry leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers, just as her father did. But that was about where the resemblance ended. Gerry looked like a cuddly teddy bear – not something her father could ever be compared to. “I was worried about hiring a female PA for Christian, but I think you’re going to work out just fine.”

She arched a questioning eyebrow and Gerry laughed. “He has a bit of a reputation with women, but you look like someone who can hold your own. Somehow I don’t think you’re going to go all fangirl on him and fall into his bed.”

“I should hope not!” Perhaps it would not be such a good idea sending Anna in to finish this job when she’d got the information she needed. Not that her personal assistant was in the habit of falling into bed with men, but it would be like sending a lamb into a lion’s den.

But finding a replacement was a worry for another day.

“What is the movie about?” she asked.

“The usual. A little romance, lots of action. It’s about the bastard son of a king and a slave girl who becomes a pirate. You’re in luck. Today’s a day off for the shooting crew, but Christian’s downstairs in the costume department doing some final fittings so you can meet him straight away. If you don’t mind waiting a few minutes, I’ll walk you over and introduce you. There’s just one call I have to return before we go.”

“I’d like her to meet Lee first,” Kenzie said, rising from the chair beside Tessa. “So we’ll meet you down at Wardrobe in ten.”

“Who’s Lee?” Tessa asked as they headed downstairs. She’d learned a few tricks over the years and was good at remembering names and faces, but she was starting to reach saturation point.

“My best friend. He’s an art director and he’s supervising the set-build downstairs.”

In the vast warehouse space Kenzie had to shout to be heard over the din of construction. “Principal photography started a few days ago. The first couple of weeks are all location filming, mostly at the palace, then they move in here and shoot the interiors of the pirate ship for a few days before the entire production moves to Los Pajaros. You have three weeks to find out what you need.”

Tessa nodded. And she had four weeks until her wedding. The quicker she could get this job done, the better.

From the outside, the set looked like nothing more than makeshift wooden walls on wheels, but passing inside was like moving from one world to another. From a dirty warehouse into the captain’s cabin of a pirate ship.

Smoke and mirrors, like everything else in the film business where nothing was real.

Lee was bent over a table littered with drawings and schematics. He straightened with a grin, dimples flashing. He might easily be the most beautiful man Tessa had ever seen.

“How’s my best girl?” He winked at Kenzie and pulled her close into his side.

“This is Tessa,” Kenzie said, hugging him back.

“Ah, the super-spy.”

Tessa frowned. “You told him?”

“I tell Lee everything. You can trust him too.”

Lee turned the full wattage of his grin on Kenzie. “If you ever need anything, just ask.”

Tessa cast a glance over the drawings on the table. “Did you do these?”

He nodded, pride shining in his eyes. “I designed this set. It’s kind of what I do. Interior design with a difference.”

“Any chance you do weddings too?”

“Tessa’s getting married soon,” Kenzie jumped in.

“It’s been a whirlwind,” Tessa explained. “I wanted a spring wedding, but Stefan’s so busy and the only break he has is over the St Valentine’s weekend. It’s all terribly last-minute, but my biggest challenge has been finding Valentine’s themed decor that isn’t a cliché.”

Kenzie grinned. “If it’s spring you want, you’ve come to the right place. Ask Lee to tell you sometime how he decorated a St Pancras station platform with fresh frangipanis in October for Rik.”

They exchanged a look. “I didn’t do it for Rik,” he said, then he turned to Tessa. “I’ve never done a wedding scene before. Could be fun.”

“Just promise me no pink hearts. I fired my wedding-planner because she insisted on hearts and cupids.”

Lee grinned. “No pink hearts. Cross my heart. Are you and your fiancé free for dinner tonight so we can thrash out ideas?” He pulled his mouth down. “I’ve got nothing planned since my best friend’s ditched me for a better offer.”

Kenzie smacked his shoulder. “It’s Rik’s farewell dinner with his family. I told you.”

Tessa ignored the pang in her chest. She’d once been a part of that family. “Stefan’s out of town on business, but my assistant and I are available for dinner.”

Lee pulled her in against his free side and gave her a squeeze. “It’s a date.”

She tried hard not to flinch at the touch, and extricated herself as quickly as she could without being rude. “So when do I get to meet Mr Taylor?”

Kenzie smiled, mistaking her question for enthusiasm. “Right now.”

In the adjacent building, they passed a warren of dressing rooms, props workshops and store rooms before they reached the costume department.

Feeling very much like that lamb being led into the lion’s den, Tessa followed Kenzie through a set of wide double doors into a bright space lined with rail upon rail of period clothing. To one side, beneath the light of the tall windows, seamstresses beavered away behind clattering sewing machines. Straight ahead, in a cleared open space, stood a couple of battered sofas and a table with a tray of coffees. Tessa could smell the fresh coffee clear across the room.

Her stomach flipped. She’d skipped lunch too in the hurry to get here.

Beyond the sofas, reflected half a dozen times in the bank of mirrors behind him, stood Christian Taylor.

He wore full eighteenth-century costume, complete with ruffled cuffs and pantaloons. There weren’t a lot of men who could look masculine in an outfit like that. Christian did.

He laughed at the stylist, who unknotted the cravat around his neck. His laugh travelled clear down Tessa’s spine. Even the bones in her heels vibrated at the sound. If a sound could personify sex, then Christian’s laugh was that sound.

“Okay, try the next one,” the stylist said, waving Christian towards the cubicle with louvered doors which stood open to reveal more costumes hanging ready.

Christian turned towards the cubicle and as he turned he caught sight of Tessa in the mirror. Their gazes locked. Recognition dawned. Her heart skipped a beat or three.

Thank you, merciful fate! Christian didn’t believe in God, but if he did he’d be on his knees and saying ‘Amen’. Since he’d stormed into the hotel last night without a backward glance, he’d thought of a few choice things he’d like to say to Miss High and Mighty. Top of the list was that she should take a look in a mirror sometime.

And now fate had delivered her here. He’d get that chance to vent after all and hopefully exorcise the demons that had kept him awake all night. The fact that she’d hit on a sore spot, on something that had been nagging at him for months, hadn’t helped.

Whatever she wanted here, she wasn’t going to get it. This was his chance to turn the tables and send
her
packing.

“This is a private area,” the Wardrobe Supervisor said, hurrying to intervene.

“They’re not fans.” Gerry, the UPM, pushed through the doors behind the two newcomers. “Sorry I’m late, just putting out fires.” He waved at the redhead. “This is Kenzie, our Los Pajaros liaison.” She was pretty, perhaps older than she looked. At least Christian hoped she was older, or she’d be a serious case of jail-bait.

Then Gerry gestured to Miss High and Mighty. “And this is her friend, Teresa Adler. Christian, meet your new PA.”

Like hell. He’d already told the producers he didn’t want an assistant. And this was who they’d hired? Just how small was this country?

He set his hands on his hips. “Over my dead body.”

Gerry ran distracted hands through his hair so it stood up at all angles. “We’ve already had this argument once today.” He turned to the delicate redhead beside Teresa. “There’s a genuine fire on Tortuga. No one’s hurt and they’ve got it under control, but we’ve lost a large portion of the set. We’re going to need to bring in more labour if we’re going to get the build done on time. You need to speak to the mayor and ask him to give us some local labourers. We just don’t have the budget to bring in more people from Florida.”

Christian’s eyes narrowed as he followed the conversation. “Good luck with that. You won’t get a single islander to set foot on Tortuga. Not now that you’ve triggered the curse.”

Every face in the room turned to him. Gerry’s expression was one of annoyed disbelief. The redhead looked intrigued. The Wardrobe Supervisor and his stylist both simply looked lost. His friend Dominic, who’d been dozing on the couch beneath an upside-down newspaper, sat up. Only Miss High and Mighty showed no emotion whatsoever.

“You’ve heard of the curse?” the redhead asked.

“Of course. Every child on Los Pajaros knows the legend. Until the pirate and his princess return to Isla Tortuga, any person who steps foot on the island is doomed to life-long grief and heartache.”

“The pirate and his princess died several hundred years ago. They won’t be coming back.” The redhead looked almost sad. “So you’re from Los Pajaros?”

He ignored the question. His past wasn’t open for discussion. He faced Gerry. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“She’s not a babysitter, she’s your assistant. And your publicist insisted.”

Screw his publicist. Or perhaps that was the problem. He already had. This was no doubt her revenge for the fact that he’d slipped out in the middle of the night without saying goodbye. But what had she expected? She’d done enough damage control on his reputation to know what he was.

“If you don’t want her, I’ll take her.” Dominic’s voice drifted up from the sofa. He grinned at Teresa, looking her up and down. “You can assist me any time.”

Christian glared at him. “I’d like a moment alone with Teresa.” He used his most imperious tone and it worked. Everyone in the room, including the stylist, backed away. Even Dominic, though Christian had to send him another glare before he dragged himself off the sofa and followed the others, unread newspaper still in hand.

Teresa remained unmoved. He circled her, checking her out. She was as pretty as he remembered, in that Scandinavian supermodel way. An Ice Princess out of legend, with her white-blonde hair swept up into a knot at the back of her head, not a strand out of place. In the bright light of day, her complexion was pure peaches and cream, her eyebrows perfectly sculpted, her make-up professional but subtle.

She wore an elegant pants suit that hid those long legs he remembered so well, and a conservative white blouse buttoned up to the neck that was no doubt intended to conceal the swell of her breasts. It failed utterly.

What kind of a PA dressed in Ralph Lauren anyway?

Only when he stepped close did she betray herself with a startled breath.

“So you’ve come to slum it here among us philistines, have you? Or are you here to help out the
less fortunate
?”

Another woman might have blushed. But Teresa’s cool gaze swept over him, evaluating, unimpressed. It was last night all over again. She made him feel two feet tall, like the bastard kid he’d once been, blamed for every schoolyard prank within a mile, and made to feel like dirt for no other reason than that he had no father.

Or perhaps because the colour of his skin betrayed the fact that his father had been a white man, making him an outsider twice over.

But this was no dusty playground on Los Pajaros. They were on his turf now. And for once he had the upper hand.

“Why do you want to work for me?”

“Because I’m star-struck?” She was mocking him now. He held her gaze and waited.

She let her breath out on a sigh. “Because last night I was told I needed to walk in someone else’s shoes for a while.”

She kept her head high and held his challenging gaze. He admired a woman with spunk. She would definitely be fun to break.

“And just like that you decided to get a real job?”

“Until then I thought I’d slum it here in La-la land.”

She was either mocking him or flirting with him, but he couldn’t decide which since her face gave nothing away. Either way, she piqued his interest. There was more going on beneath the picture-perfect surface this woman portrayed to the world. As an actor, he knew one when he saw one.

“Give me one reason why I should hire you.”

She met his gaze, more like an equal than the usual deferential, sycophantic assistants he had back in LA. “Because I’m efficient, I can multi-task and I know my way around this town. I can get you a table at any restaurant at the drop of a hat and tickets to any show in town. That’s five reasons. Do you need more?”

So she was a still a smart ass. But in spite of himself he smiled. “You understand you’ll be on call to me twenty-four-seven? There’ll be no time for volunteer work.” Or a life. “And when I say jump… ”

“I ask
how high?
”

He grinned, enjoying himself. “No sweetheart. You don’t need to ask. You jump as high as you possibly can, with everything you have in you.”

He was sure she was going to tell him to take the job and shove it so she could go back to having her hands manicured, or whatever the idle rich did to while away the time.

And just like that he changed his mind. The idea of owning her for the next three weeks was much more appealing than watching her walk away with her pretty tail between her legs. No, he wasn’t going to send her packing. He’d give her the job. And he’d get his revenge in the most pleasurable way possible.

He wouldn’t just crack that damned composure. He’d see her completely undone.

Once again he imagined those long legs wrapped around him. Naked, unbuttoned. She wouldn’t call him a philistine when he was inside her.

He grinned, with all the charm he was famous for. “Shall we start afresh? Hi, I’m Christian Taylor.” He held out his hand.

“Teresa Adler.” She shook his hand. Her touch was as cool and impersonal as her voice. She tried to pull her hand out of his as soon as it was polite, as if the contact stung her delicate pale skin. “I am really, really sorry for the things I said last night. It was inexcusable and I apologise.”

“You had a very good excuse. It’s not every day, I’m sure, that a stranger jumps into a moving car beside you.” He could afford to be magnanimous, but he wasn’t above teasing. He gripped her hand tighter, refusing to let go. “I assume you’ve never worked as a personal assistant to an actor before?”

She shook her head, and he wondered if that spark in the cool, contained depths of her eyes was amusement or anger or fear. “I’ve never worked as anything before. Will you be gentle with me?” Definitely amusement. But she wasn’t flirting with him. More like playing with him, like a cat playing with a captive mouse.

So much for his turf. Even so, he couldn’t resist flirting back. He wrapped her hand in both his, daring her to pull away.

Her breath stuttered and her gaze flicked down to their joined hands, hers so small and white between his larger, darker ones.

“Since we’re going to be spending a lot of time together over the next few weeks, how about we get to know each other better. Tonight – over dinner?”

“I already have a date for tonight.”

“Break it.”

She shook her head and yanked her hand out of his. “I think dinner would be crossing a line. It wouldn’t be professional.”

That hadn’t stopped his publicist. Or his previous two assistants.

“Suit yourself.” He stepped away and waved the others closer. “Okay, I’ll go for this. On one condition.” He held Teresa’s gaze. “You’re mine for the next three weeks. This isn’t a game. I need you to take this job seriously.”

She nodded slowly. “Agreed.”

“As soon as this fitting is done, Dominic and I are heading to rehearsals. You can go with us, and on the way I’ll fill you in on what I expect from you.”

“Great!” Gerry clapped his hands together in relief. “Play nicely.”

He and the redhead headed for the doors, heads bent together in earnest conversation.

Dominic settled himself back on the sofa, looking much more awake than a moment ago. “We will!” he called after their departing backs and patted the open space next to him for Teresa to sit.

Christian sent him a look that his old friend couldn’t miss:
Hands off. She’s mine.

This fitting was a far cry from the one she’d left in such a hurry this morning. The bridal boutique had been pristine and uncluttered, smelling of roses, with hushed voices, champagne, the soft strains of classical music drifting through, and the designer himself dancing attendance on her.

The costume department was noisy, with people coming and going, and a faintly musty smell. But it wasn’t as dull as Tessa had expected. Not with Dominic serving her coffee and pastries, and keeping up the banter.

Unlike Christian, who glowered in their direction between costume changes, Dominic had no problem sharing his life’s story. It was surprising that Christian had become the star when Dominic was the born entertainer. Within the space of half an hour she learned that the two of them had been friends since high school. They’d started in the movie business together as stunt men, before Christian had been “discovered” and turned into a star. Dominic still worked as stunt coordinator on all Christian’s pictures.

Which explained how Christian had managed that flying leap into her car last night with the top already half-closed. Fleetingly she wondered what else that athleticism would be good for, but she shut the thought down before it could take root. He flustered her enough already without indulging her imagination. And she never indulged her imagination.

Listening to Dominic chatter was not only a mine of information, far more so than the “official” biographies she’d read in the file her father showed her, but also a much-needed distraction. It was incredibly hard not to stare whenever Christian stripped off to try on a new shirt, and the stylist seemed to have rather a lot of shirts for him to try.

In the darkness of her car last night she hadn’t fully appreciated just how lean and muscled Christian was. He made Stefan look positively soft in comparison, and Stefan was no lightweight in the looks department.

“If Dominic has finished monopolizing your attention, we need to run through tomorrow’s schedule,” Christian said, frowning at his friend.

Tessa pulled out a notebook and pen, and the call sheet Robbie, the Second Assistant Director, had provided her with, and scribbled notes. Christian was very specific about what he ate, when he ate, and how he liked his life run. If this was easy-going, she’d hate to know what a more demanding star would be like.

She was almost relieved when the fitting was over. The three of them left the wardrobe ladies bagging up the costumes to ship to Los Pajaros, and headed back through the maze of corridors to the rehearsal room.

Her relief was short-lived.

This wasn’t a group of people sitting around a table reading from a script. The rehearsal was a sword-fighting practice. With both men barefoot and stripped down to their jeans.

Tessa sat mutely in the corner, eyeing them over the top of the folder of printed-out emails from Christian’s publicist that remained unread, and tried to look as if two half-naked men trying to smack each other with dulled swords was an everyday thing.

The swords may not have been lethal, but they weren’t play-things either. They looked heavy, and the sound that rang out when they struck was pure metal on metal.

The two men were equally matched. Dominic’s skill was greater, but Christian was quick on his feet. There was something familiar in the way he moved: light and graceful, but she couldn’t quite place it. She rubbed her brow and the sense of
déja-vu
disappeared.

She hadn’t yet learned anything that wasn’t in the file her father had shown her. The first few pages, Christian’s official biography according to Wikipedia, IMDB and a dozen other websites, held no mention at all of his family or his childhood. Transcripts of various press interviews were less than helpful. They frequently contradicted one another and never asked the important questions. The gaps had been filled by the woefully short single-page report gathered by her father’s intelligence people.

Christian had been born on Los Pajaros, only child of a single mother, which was still a stigma in the islands. There was no father named on his birth certificate. He’d been in and out of trouble from a young age. Then mother and son had suddenly moved to Los Angeles when he was fourteen. And that was where Christian Hewitt became Christian Taylor. It was almost as if they’d wanted to disappear.