Six Hot Summer Nights. Leslie Kelly
other hand, seemed oblivious to the attention.
“And here I thought all you Hollywood hotshots never slept,” she went on, smiling up at him.
Those dark-as-night eyes could make a man forget any scruples he had. The sweet floral scent radiating off all that bare skin made his mouth water. If the woman was this potent after one evening, how would he survive the rest of the trip?
Dammit. He hated being vulnerable, and Mia was working her way fast and hard under his skin.
“I won’t lie,” he told her. “We do burn the midnight oil quite often. Which is why we need to sleep when we can.”
As they stepped out into the warm night air, Bronson tasted the saltiness of the sea on his lips. He couldn’t help but wonder if Mia would taste the same.
Yachts lined the docks and bobbed gently with the subtle ripples of the Mediterranean. Thousands of twinkling lights glistened off the black water, setting a romantic ambiance seen in movies.
Obviously, a realistic effect.
“This place is amazing.” Mia snuggled closer to him as she looked out over the water. “I could live here and just stare at that gentle rolling tide all day.”
“We have coastline at home, as well.”
She looked back at him and tilted her head. “True, but there’s something romantic and glamorous about Cannes. I love Hollywood, but it’s all so … fake.”
Bronson laughed. “Fake? You’ve never faked anything?”
“No,” she said without hesitation. “What you see is what you get.”
His eyes roamed over her, then landed back on her flawless face. “The exterior is perfect without faking anything. But what about on the inside? You’ve never lied? That’s faking the truth. No?”
Mia looked back to the sea. “We all lie about something at some point, Bronson. It’s human nature not to reveal the truth when a lie can benefit us.”
Bronson stepped in front of her, keeping his hand on her arm. When she turned her gaze to face him, moonlight sparked off those deep, chocolate eyes. If he weren’t careful, he’d fall into them and lose the battle he was fighting with himself.
“What are you faking now, Mia?” he whispered.
A soft breeze from the water lifted a tendril of her hair and sent it dancing. He tucked the strand behind her ear, stroking a finger down the side of her face, down her neck until her breath caught.
“I told you.” She licked her lips, mocking Bronson because he wanted to be the one to lick that salty sea air off her parted mouth. “What you see is what you get.”
“What I get, huh?” he asked with a slight grin.
Bronson slid his hand up her bare arm, cupped the back of her neck and captured her lips beneath his.
Perfect. Absolutely … perfect.
God, he’d been so right in believing her lips would taste amazing. Soft, giving. Mia may be holding a secret, but if it had anything to do with her sexuality, he’d just uncovered it. There was a passion brewing beneath this confident, yet private woman.
She wrapped her fingers around his biceps, whether to push him away or hold on as he continued assaulting her mouth he didn’t know. But he wasn’t going to stop unless she made him because one taste, just one, had him pulling her against him. His hands roamed up that bare back that had mocked him all evening. Damn this dress. He wanted it off her. Now.
With their bodies only separated by his tux shirt and thin layers of chiffon over her breasts, Bronson could feel the effect he had on her.
A snap and flash had him pulling back just in time to see a paparazzo running in the other direction.
Damn.
“Oh, God, did he …”
“Yeah.” Bronson gritted his teeth, taking a step back to put some space between them. “He snapped our picture and now he’s probably running back to whatever rag he works for.”
Mia held a hand over her mouth, eyes wide as she stared back at him. “Oh, Bronson, I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry because we kissed or sorry because we got caught?”
She smoothed that dangling strand of hair back. “Is that your way of finding out my feelings about what just happened? I’m not sorry we kissed. Surprised, but not sorry. I am sorry if what just happened ends up in the newspaper and causes more grief for your family in the press, especially with my recent scandal.”
Her concern seemed genuine—but so had her French accent.
Bronson shrugged. “My body blocked your face, so as far as the media’s concerned, you’re a nameless woman.”
But now that he’d had a sample, Bronson wanted the rest of what she had to offer.
Nameless woman.
Mia wished those words from two nights ago still didn’t cut right into her heart, but they did. Is that how Bronson saw her? Was he just kissing her as a prelude to a passing fling? How many women walked away from this Hollywood playboy on weak knees, nursing a broken heart?
God knew hers were still shaking from that toe-curling kiss. But would she just be a statistic when this week was all over? How flattering.
Mia touched up her lip gloss over lips that ached for more of Bronson’s touch and examined herself in the ballroom’s bathroom mirror. The short, deep plum dress with one shoulder bare and the other with a long, flowing sleeve made her feel just as sexy and feminine as the previous dresses.
Night three of the festival was no different than the others … except that she was aching even more for Bronson, and she knew she was every kind of a fool for feeling this way.
She was realistic, though. He may want her physically, but that’s where their relationship ended. That didn’t stop her from daydreaming, and their smoldering kiss certainly hadn’t done a thing to diminish her attraction. Bronson Dane was every woman’s walking fantasy, and her hormones were no different than those of any other female who’d had the fortunate opportunity to be close to the Hollywood powerhouse.
Mia smoothed a hand over her belly, trying to calm her jumbled nerves. Only a few more days and they would be back in Hollywood, and Bronson would be off to meetings about his next movie prospect.
She’d watched him charm actresses and build up actors’ egos, though Mia knew it was just for leverage if he wanted them in a film one day. Hollywood was all about getting everything you wanted, no matter who you had to play to get it. And Bronson played the game like a pro.
But she doubted he needed to do all the charming. Bronson Dane was a force to be reckoned with in the industry. Turning down a chance to work with him would be an idiotic career move for anyone.
Mia smiled at an elderly woman and exited the bathroom. Just as she turned at the end of the hallway, she ran into Anthony Price.
“Mia.” He pulled her into his strong arms for a friendly hug. “I thought I saw you the other night, but discounted the idea. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
She jerked back. “You can’t do that. What if someone had taken a picture?” What if Bronson had seen them?
Anthony glanced around. “Paparazzi aren’t allowed in here, but I do apologize. I was just shocked and happy to see you. Are you here with Olivia?”
Mia smiled at her previous employer. “And Bronson.”
Anthony’s smile dimmed. “Really. Do they—”
“I haven’t said a word, Anthony.” She knew