Six Hot Summer Nights. Leslie Kelly
him. She’d been in the room once when he’d called to chat with his mother, but that was as close as she came to the man who’d given her the most spine-tingling night of her life.
Obviously, he’d been able to move on, so why was she still hanging on to the memories of his touch, his kiss? His taste. She lived in Hollywood. Sexual partners came and went. Unfortunately, sex had always meant more to Mia that just a casual coupling.
But, she reminded herself, he’d stressed that he didn’t want anything personal, and she completely understood. For one night of passion with Hollywood’s hottest bachelor, she’d put her moral compass aside and taken one for the team.
Though deep down, there was that little girl inside her who wished for the old Hollywood fairy tale, the handsome man to sweep her off her feet, the mansion where they’d live happily ever after. Of course she’d keep all her wishes and dreams to herself, but she couldn’t help the fantasies that flitted through her mind.
Unfortunately this was Hollywood. Unfulfilled fantasies were everywhere. But she didn’t care if wanting her dreams to become reality made her naive. She’d continue to be a hopeless romantic.
She clasped the locket around her neck, the image of her parents’ picture inside flooding her mind. They’d chased their dreams when they’d come to America from Italy. So what if she was a dreamer? That only made her work harder for what she wanted. And a part of her did want Bronson. Granted, she didn’t know him that well, but she’d like to get to know him better. He’d been so attentive, so giving with his affection, not to mention he’d been a true gentleman the entire week they’d spent together.
But had she seriously thought Bronson would sleep with her, find himself falling madly in love and they’d ride off into the sunset in a town that was full of lies and deceit? Even couples who’d been married for a number of years seemed to fall into the bottomless pit of divorce.
And why was she wasting a workday fantasizing about weddings, divorces and Bronson’s thrilling touch?
Mia’s hands flew across the keyboard as she replied to the interested fan. There was nothing in the works for Olivia and Bronson, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a possibility. And Mia knew the two would love to work on a film together, they just hadn’t found the right one—or so she’d been told.
This was the part of her job she dearly loved—hearing from all the people around the world who reminisced about old Grand Dane movies and still enjoyed seeing her on the big screen with the hottest up-and-coming young stars. No doubt about it—when Olivia Dane made an entrance on to the screen, the audience loved her. No one could ever overshadow her beauty, class or intelligence. She reigned supreme even over today’s hottest stars.
As she read more fan mail exuding love for this successful, bonded family, guilt washed over her.
When would Anthony tell Olivia he knew the truth? On one hand, Mia wanted it to be out in the open so she didn’t have to hoard all this guilt. But, on the other hand, once the truth was out, how many lives would be ruined? Would the Danes be able to move on? They were such a tight-knit family and had lived through minor scandals, but something of this magnitude could cause tremendous upheaval. Anthony and Bronson already loathed each other. Informing Bronson they were brothers would surely prove to only drive that hatred to a deeper level.
And ruining Olivia’s flawless image wouldn’t solve anything.
Mia’s stomach churned again. Between the constant fear of how these two families would cope with a forty-year-old secret and whatever stomach bug she’d picked up, Mia was ready to crawl back into bed and call it a day. Unfortunately, it was only ten in the morning and she still had about fifty more emails to get to and some phone calls to return for Olivia’s TV talk show appearances to promote the new movie she had a cameo in. No rest for the dying.
Just as she opened another email, the doorbell sounded throughout the cottage. Cottage was a silly word for the five-thousand-square-foot guesthouse, complete with its own swimming pool, hot tub and movie room with a floor-to-ceiling movie screen. However, compared to the main house, at twenty-two-thousand square feet, this was definitely a cottage.
Mia came to her feet, thankful the room had stopped tilting for the time being, glanced down to her less-than-professional attire and shrugged. She’d changed into something more comfortable when Olivia had sent her home and hadn’t expected to see anyone else today.
Oh, well. More than likely if it wasn’t Olivia herself, then she’d sent one of the staff to check on her. Mia loved that Olivia cared for her in that motherly way … a way her own mother never had the chance to. She only prayed the cook hadn’t brought food, as Olivia had suggested. The thought sent her stomach revolting—again.
The cool tile beneath her feet as she crossed the foyer felt refreshing, considering she was getting a bit lightheaded again. Maybe she needed to crank up the AC or get a cool cloth for her head.
Mia twisted the lock and opened her door to see Bronson in all his gorgeous glory bathed in the sunlight falling over his shoulder. With his California tan, styled “messy” hair, green polo and dark designer jeans, he looked every bit of perfect. So opposite her. Oh, wait, she had the messy hair, just not in the stylish way he sported it. No, hers was more of the get-out-of-my-face-because-I’m-going-to-be-sick mess in a topknot with stray pieces hanging down.
“I called up to the house. Mom told me you were sick,” Bronson said, leaning against her doorjamb. “Is there anything you need?”
Really? He’d rushed here after not a word in weeks? A phone call would’ve proved just fine and then she wouldn’t have to worry about how deathly she looked while he, as usual, looked drop-dead sexy. If he hadn’t put their sexual encounter out of his mind already, one look at her would surely have him running for the next starlet.
“Mia. Do you need anything?” he asked again.
Yeah, for him to leave and only return when her makeup was on, her hair was done and her breath couldn’t be used as a weapon.
“I’m good.” She smiled. “Did you come over just to see how I was?”
Bronson shrugged. “I just got back into town a couple days ago and I was going to stop by to see you anyway.”
“Really?” Considering the six-week gap since they last saw each other, she was a little skeptical. “Why?”
“Honestly?”
Mia grabbed the edge of the door for some stability and lifted a brow. Yeah, she wouldn’t mind a little honesty from the man she’d slept with and couldn’t get out of her mind.
Bronson threw her that billion-dollar, white-tooth smile. “I wanted to see you again. I was hoping for dinner at my place, but if you’re sick, we can postpone.”
If she’d had the energy to jump up and down, she probably would have. Even the giddy girl inside her was wiped out this morning.
“I haven’t even agreed to see you again and you’re already making plans to postpone?” she asked. “My, my. Awfully full of yourself.”
Reaching into his back pocket, he whipped out a well-worn, folded-up tabloid.
Mia took it, unfolded it and saw the cover. A cover with the two of them in a heated embrace, kissing. Their first kiss that some paparazzo schmuck had captured and exploited. Not only was that picture blown up as the main feature, but there were also smaller pictures surrounding the perimeter. Snapshots from the red carpet, one picture of the two of them when they’d been waiting to meet with his mother for lunch—but, of course, Olivia wasn’t in the photo.
The headline read, “DANE’S NEW LEADING LADY?” She’d seen these images and more intrusive headlines on the internet, but they’d only popped up for a few days. More Hollywood drama had unfolded since then, and their little week in Cannes had been pushed aside.
Mia’s eyes darted to Bronson. “Why would this make you so confident I’d want to see you again? Aren’t you the one