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  Colette sets the papers down and leans back in her chair, waving a hand to indicate that I should continue. Her look says she doesn’t believe I can change her mind, but at least she is willing to listen.

  “Like a lot of child actors, Remington fell into the wrong crowd and used drugs to deal with the pressure. Not that I’m excusing his using, but he did have a shitty home life and was forced to emancipate at fifteen. He was close with the Hayes brothers, and I think that’s why he stayed clean through the run of the show. He’d begun doing stunt work by then and became very sought after for his abilities. Then the show ended, and he decided to do stunt-work exclusively. There were a few incidents in the next few years, rumors about drugs and his fearlessness and recklessness on set but since they were only ever rumors, he kept his liability insurance. He managed to keep his using out of public record until he was twenty, and I know things came to a head with Grier Studios the following year.”

  “You’re losing my interest, Mr. Grant,” Colette remarks when I pause.

  “Tyson,” I correct, then give her a crooked smile.

  “I’m getting there. I just think context is important.”

  She lifts a brow but doesn’t say anything, so I go on. “Again, I’m not excusing Remington, drug use is a hard line with me, which is why I’ve never agreed to rep him until recently. When everything happened with the studio, Remington’s best friend had just been diagnosed with cancer. A few months after the studio—rightfully, I might add—cut ties with him, he was hospitalized and almost died from an overdose. He went into rehab as soon as he was released. Austin told me it was the best friend who convinced Remington to do it.

  “He spent six months at a facility, then laid low for several years, getting his life straightened out. He even went to college, and he does a lot of outreach for kids. A little over a year ago, he decided to return to filming. Being older and with the amount of time he’d been sober, he’d just managed to get liability insurance again. Austin approached me about being his agent, but I turned him down. However, as a favor to him, I kept my eye on Remington and when he turned twenty-five six months ago, I felt like he’d proven himself, and he’s incredibly talented, so I agreed to sign him.”

  Colette is listening intently, and I can see that what I’m saying is getting through and she is contemplating it, not just dismissing out of hand. It convinces me that my first impression of her was spot on. She’s gorgeous sure, but beyond her looks, she is strong and independent. I also sense that she is open-minded and there is kindness in her eyes that makes the whole package and draws me to her like a magnet.

  “He’s worked his ass off to get his life together and help others learn from his mistakes,” I insist. “I think everyone deserves a second chance, don’t you?”

  “I don’t disagree with you, Tyson.”

  “That’s great,” I start, but she doesn’t let me finish.

  “Unfortunately, this issue is beyond my influence with the president”—she holds up her hand when I attempt to speak—“And, I’ll admit, while I am mostly in support of his stance on anyone who has a history of drug use, I believe in second chances and I think he’s being just a tad too hard-headed.”

  “Then—”

  “That being said, my opinion isn’t going to sway him. I’m sorry.”

  Colette stands abruptly and I just sit there, rendered speechless. She sticks out her hand and I grasp it, but she gives it a hard shake and snatches her hand back like it’s on fire.

  My equilibrium returns as she scoots around my chair and hurries towards the door. I stand and grab her wrist, stopping her from getting away. Her brown eyes meet mine and she watches me warily. “Dinner,” I blurt, then mentally cringe. “Let me take you to dinner tomorrow.” Smooth, Grant. Real smooth.

  She hesitates for a beat then shakes her head. “Um, I don’t think so.”

  “That’s not a no,” I respond with a smirk.

  Colette opens her mouth, then shuts it and shakes her head again, while tugging to free her hand.

  “I won’t give up, baby,” I warn her.

  She stills and cocks her head to the side. “Give up on changing the president’s mind or mine?” she asks, sincerely curious.

  I tug hard on her hand, and she stumbles into my chest. Wrapping my arms around her, I bring her body flush with mine. Giving in to what I’ve wanted since I laid eyes on her, I lower my head and seal my mouth over hers. I rub my tongue over her lips and groan when she lets me in. I kiss her until we are both shaking, and I know if I don’t stop, I’ll take this way too far. Pulling back, I smile at the dazed expression on her face. “I won’t give up on either.”

  Chapter 3

  Colette

  “If you keep that up, you’re going to lose weight when you definitely don’t need to.” My dad reaches out and squeezes my hand. “I’m worried about you. You’ve seemed distracted lately. I haven’t thrown too much at you all at once, have I?”

  I glance up from my salad to find my dad’s eyes full of concern. I’m not surprised he noticed that I’m not hungry since I’ve been pushing my food around my plate instead of eating it ever since the waiter dropped it off five minutes ago. But I am a little surprised he noticed I’ve been preoccupied the past week and a half. I thought I was doing a better job of hiding it. The last thing I want to do is talk to him about the cause of my distraction—Tyson Grant.

  I haven’t been able to get him out of my head; in large part due to his campaign to make me think about him each and every day. It started with deliveries to the studio; coffee and muffins the first day, flowers and chocolates the next. Then he somehow got hold of my cell phone number and started sending me messages. I’ve spent way too much time staring at all of the texts he’d sent today when I should’ve been working. My brain keeps telling me that I should resist his charm because getting involved with him would complicate things. But my heart, and my damp panties, don’t agree.

  “No, Dad. You haven’t thrown too much at me”—unless he wants to count having me take a meeting with a super-hot, successful, and persistent man who wears a suit better than most models as too much...which I’m willing to bet he doesn’t—“I’m fine, really. Please don’t worry about me. My new office is perfect, and I think I’ve been fitting in nicely with everyone at the studio.”

  He narrows his eyes and scans my face for any signs that I’m not being honest. Luckily, I really am fine when it comes to work so he seems convinced. “Is there something wrong with the salad? I can have them bring you something else from the kitchen. Whatever you want.”

  His response is so typical for my dad. He really would go into the kitchen and talk to the chef if I was craving something they didn’t offer on the menu. “The salad is fine. I think maybe I’m just a teensy bit worried about fitting into my dress on Sunday since it’s the first time I’m going to an awards ceremony with you.”

  “Ahh.” He nods and leans back in his seat. “I guess I can see why you’d obsess a little about your first time at the Oscars. Charlie took care of everything you need, right?”

  “Yes, he hooked me up with a few designers when I got into town after graduation. I found a dress I absolutely love, but I think I’ve gained a few pounds since I moved back home.” I point my empty fork at him. “You do too good of a job making sure I’m well fed. I may need to factor that into my living arrangements and start hunting for a place of my own soon.”

  “You don’t need to worry about your weight, and you don’t need to move into your own place,” he insists. “The house is too big for just me. It feels less empty with you home.”

  With six bedroom suites, a home theater, a guest house by the pool, and tennis courts, my dad’s home was more mansion than house. But it’s where he’d lived with my mom and I couldn’t picture the day ever coming when he’d be willing to sell it. I smile at him gently. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’m not in a rush to go anywhere.”

  “Good.” He smiled in relief. “I like having you
around.”

  “You’d better, because you’re going to see an awful lot of me. Work. Home. The Oscars,” I tease. “Although you might not recognize me on Sunday since Charlie also arranged for a couple of people from hair and makeup to come to the house to help me get ready.”

  “I’m sure you’ll look beautiful, like you always do.”

  My phone chimes with a notification as I grin at my dad. After I glance down and see it’s a photo message from Tyson, I will my cheeks not to turn red as I say, “Sorry to run off, Dad. But this is something I need to take care of sooner rather than later.”

  My dad waves off my concern. “Go! Do whatever you need to, and I’ll have your salad boxed up for you to eat at your desk later.”

  “Thanks. As long as you’re bringing me a doggie bag, I’d kill for a piece of their flourless chocolate espresso cake.” It’s not like one piece would make my dress not fit, so there isn’t any need for me to deprive myself of one of my favorite desserts. Moving around the table, I give him a kiss on the cheek. As soon as I’m in the privacy of the car from the service my dad insists I use, I open Tyson’s message.

  “Holy crap,” I breathe, my eyes going wide at the picture he sent me. His short, curly blond hair is slightly mussed and his amazing blue eyes, are staring straight into the camera, the color even more striking because of his sun-kissed skin. They’re a perfect match for the bowtie and pocket square he’s wearing with his perfectly tailored tuxedo that shows off his muscular physique.

  “Pardon, miss?” the driver asks.

  I meet his eyes in the rearview mirror and smile. “Nothing. Sorry. Just a little...surprised by a message I received.”

  After he nods and returns his focus back to the road, I look back down at my phone. I take in the utter gorgeousness that is Tyson Grant before reading the message he included with the photo.

  Tyson: I love the tux my personal shopper picked out for the Oscars this weekend, but it’s missing something.

  Tyson: You.

  As though he knows I’m reading his text right then, another message pops up.

  Tyson: I’d look a million times better with you on my arm. Be my date. You can walk the red carpet with me and schmooze a bunch of A-listers in your new role as AVP of Grier Studios.

  I drop my head back against the seat and squeeze my eyes shut. I’ve done my best to stop myself from replying to his messages, but this one requires a response. After counting to ten, I open them again and type it out. It’s the opposite of what I really want to say, but it’s not like I have any other choice.

  Me: Thanks, but no.

  Tyson: C’mon. You know you want to.

  That’s the thing. I do. I really, really do. But my dad would not be thrilled by the idea of me going on a date with Tyson when he’s on his shit list right now over the whole Remington Vaughn thing. After doing a little digging into the actor on my own, I’ve tried talking to my dad about possibly giving him another chance. Even after looking over all that Remington has accomplished since getting out of rehab, he’s refused to budge on his stance. He has blinders on when it comes to anything related to drugs, and in his mind Tyson is wrong to give Remington a chance.

  Tyson: I have great seats since one of my clients is up for two awards and another’s wife is up for Best Actress.

  I’m sure he does since the clients he’s referring to must be Austin and Theo Hayes. They’re probably better than my dad’s, but only by a little since his studio is up for another Best Picture award. Not that it really makes any difference. I don’t care where I sit, and I can’t take Tyson up on his offer no matter how tempted I am.

  Tyson: Stop thinking about it so hard and tell me you’ll come with me.

  I wait until I’m dropped off at the studio before calling him because I don’t want the driver to overhear our conversation. He might be driving me around town, but his first loyalty lies with my dad.

  Tyson picks up in the middle of the first ring. “You’d better be calling to say yes.”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t. It’s just not possible.”

  Tyson doesn’t let me finish my explanation before he adds, “If it’s an issue with finding a dress, I can ask Nicole Hayes to set you up with her stylist. I know it’s short notice, but since she’s up for Best Actress the designers are willing to bend over backwards to help her right now.”

  He’s being incredibly sweet, and it makes it even more difficult for me to turn him down. Taking a deep breath, I force the words out on a soft whisper, “Tyson, this isn’t something you can fix. I’m already attending with—”

  “Someone other than me,” he finishes for me in a gritty tone.

  “Yes, but—” I try to explain that I’m going with my dad, but he cuts me off and clips out, “I guess I’ll see you there. Sorry, but I have a call on the other line I’ve got to take.”

  Before I know what’s happening, there’s dead air in my ear. That didn’t go anything like I expected, but at least he’ll figure it out when he sees me with my dad at the Oscars in two days.

  Chapter 4

  Tyson

  I’m still stewing over my conversation with Colette several hours after hanging up. For days I’ve had no response to any of my messages, then I finally get her to text me back and it’s to tell me she’s got a fucking date.

  I felt bad about the way I hung up on her though. But, I knew if I stayed on the line, I might say something I would regret. So, I sent her a text apologizing and she was sweet about it.

  Typical Colette. It’s something I figured out very fast just from our brief meeting. She is pure sweetness, and it is becoming clear that I have a severe sweet tooth.

  The thought of another man being anywhere near her is hard enough, but knowing some asshole is actually her date? It’s enough to make me homicidal. I’m obsessing over who it is, and my plan to hide their body, when a knock at my door forces me to stop brooding.

  I look up to see Nicole Hayes, the blonde, blue-eyed movie star, standing in the doorway to my office. Immediately, I glance behind her expecting to see Austin since her husband is practically her shadow.

  “He does let me out of the house on my own occasionally, Ty,” she says drily.

  I grin and raise an eyebrow. She huffs and rolls her eyes. “Okay, so he was filming a scene without me and I snuck off.” She narrows her eyes and points her finger at me in warning. “Don’t be a tattletale.”

  “Me?” I gasp, placing my hand over my heart as though I’m wounded. “Never.”

  Nicole laughs and walks to one of the chairs situated in front of my desk.

  “What can I do for you, Nicole?” I ask with a genuine smile. I grew up with the Hayes brothers, so I’m close with them and the amazing women they married.

  “I got a call about a movie and since Sarah is on vacation, I came to you.”

  I frown and tap a finger on the glass desktop. “They called you directly?” This is something I take a very hard stance on. In order to keep my clients from being bombarded and hassled, all offers and requests are required to be presented through their agent. “Does Austin know?”

  Nicole gave me a wry look. “Of course, and he is practically in a rage over it. I thought it might be best to have you handle it before he burns the place down and gets himself thrown in jail.”

  I shake my head in bewilderment. “It is so weird to hear someone say something like that about him.” Austin is one of the most laid back, funny guys I’ve ever met. Until he met his wife. When it comes to her, he is an overprotective son of a bitch. I used to give him so much shit about it but now that I’ve met Colette, I probably owe him an apology. Not that he’ll ever get it.

  She shrugs and giggles. “It’s adorable, most of the time.”

  Let’s hope my woman sees it that way too.

  “Anyway,” I say, getting back on the subject of her visit. “Who reached out to you?”

  “Grier Studios.”

  “What the fuck?” I shout, then immediately f
eel bad when Nicole’s blue eyes become wide as saucers. “Sorry.”

  “That seemed like a slight overreaction there, Ty.”

  I wave my hand nonchalantly. “I’ve got a whole thing going on with Grier right now. Clearly, they are trying to avoid working with me.” I rub the back of my neck, trying to loosen some of my tension and mutter, “Or avoid me altogether.”

  “Pardon?” Nicole’s tone makes it clear she heard me, and her face shows I’ve piqued her interest.

  “It’s just this thing with one of their execs,” I mumble, completely mortified when I feel my cheeks heat. “She’s been ignoring me.”

  Nicole sits back in her chair and plays with the ends of her long blonde hair, while she stares at me reflectively. “I assume you’re talking about ignoring you on a personal level?” she clarifies. I nod, and she cocks her head to the side. “New executive?”

  “Yeah, the new Assistant Vice President. Colette.”

  A smile slowly spreads across Nicole’s face. “Just Colette?”

  I tug on the bottom of one ear, a little suspicious of the cunning tilt to her smile. “She’s not listed in the company directory yet.” I shrug. “I’m sure I could find out her last name but $200 got me her number from a gofer, so it wasn’t really necessary.” Something in her look prompts me to ask, “Do you know her?”

  “I’m surprised at you, Tyson,” Nicole quips with a smirk as she rises to her feet, completely ignoring my question.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I always thought there isn’t anything happening in this town that you don’t know about.”

  My brows draw down and I give her a mild glare. “One last name doesn’t mean I’m not like the fucking Wizard of Oz around here. If I don’t know about it today, I’ll know about it tomorrow.”