* * *
Garrett clicked the locks on his prized Maserati, a gift to himself from the profits of his first successful film. He rued the impulse that brought him to West Hollywood and the offices of By Arrangement.
When he found the toe prints in his car this morning, he’d been annoyed.
Tori Randal’s barefooted impersonation of a valet fell short of professionalism in his opinion. He’d come here today in the hopes she could redeem that impression before he put his company’s reputation in her hands at the upcoming international film festival.
Of course the insolent blonde couldn’t simply admit her mistake and agree to right the wrong. No, she questioned his motives and his eyesight. Whatever.
What really needed questioning was his sanity.
He should have remembered how he’d reacted to her. She glowed as only a true optimist could, lush lips too ready to smile, amber eyes sparkling, demanding everyone she came in contact with join her in the dance of life. And the long line of her ivory neck displayed by her sophisticated ponytail at the party and a serviceable braid today just made him want to take a bite.
Exactly when had he become part vampire?
During the long, lonely, pain-ridden nights since the accident came the ready answer. Better to be exhausted from physical therapy and reviewing studio business than to lay awake raked by pain and regrets.
Now he’d let the perky blonde with no sense of boundaries get to him again. And the result was a pulled muscle in his bad leg. His own damned fault, tripping over an inch-deep hole and twisting his foot. Pain had streaked up his weak leg and it gave. He’d done it before, pushing himself too far, too fast, but it still hurt like a bitch.
A white SUV pulled up next to him, and Tori hopped out and came trotting around to his side. He didn’t wait for her. He opened the door, plunked his butt down and pulled his leg in.
“Oh, yeah, much better.” Tori arrived in time to help lift his leg in.
“I can do it.” He scowled at her, both for the interference and the cheerful optimism. “Let’s just get going.”
“Aye-aye.” She saluted him and made the reverse trip around to the driver’s seat.
He might appreciate the impertinence if he weren’t in pain. And mortified. He closed his eyes, as it was he just wanted to get home.
“Here.” She thrust a water bottle at him after climbing in next to him. “Do you have any pain pills with you?”
“I don’t like taking pain meds.” The usual protest sprang automatically to his tongue.
She gave him a schoolteacher glare, the kind that made you question your own intelligence. “That’s not what I asked. If you have something with you, take it.”
He glared back, not caring in the least that it screamed petulant rebellion. He may have tripped up like a little boy, but he was a grown man capable of knowing the needs of his own body.
“I can always take you to the hospital. I’m sure they’ll give you something.”
“Why do you care if I’m in pain?”
She looked truly confused by the question. “I care whenever anyone is in pain.”
“The painkillers don’t help the injury. They just mask the pain, making it possible for you to hurt yourself even more.”
“The pain medicine helps you to relax. If it’s a pulled muscle like you seem to think, a lessening of the tension in the muscles actually will assist in the healing process.”
“They make me sleepy.” It wasn’t quite a whine but too close for his pride. So he dug out the pills, popped one in his mouth and chased it with a long sip of water. “You seem to know a lot about physical ailments for an event coordinator.”
“I got into first aid when I was doing my lifeguard stint. Where are we going?” She’d been driving as they argued but had reached the freeway. “Do I go north or south?”
He directed her north and gave her the address, which she put in her GPS.
“I know that address. You’re living at Obsidian Studios?”
“Sometimes it feels like it, but no, I’m staying at The Old Manor House.”
Her head whipped his way. “How can you be living at The Old Manor House?”
He cocked a brow at her surprise. “My family does own the house.”
“Of course.” Eyes back on the road, she shrugged. “But I thought it was closed up.”
“It was, most of it still is, but after his last divorce, my father moved back into a wing on the bottom floor.” Why was he explaining anything to her? But what the heck, he preferred to be alert. Talking helped. “I’d rather go to my place on the coast in Santa Barbara, but I moved into the Hollywood mansion when I started working at the studio. It’s closer, more convenient when I have to be there every day.”
No need to admit driving still bothered his leg. In fact, no need to talk about himself.
“From lifeguard to event coordinator. That’s quite a change. How’d that happen?”
Her luscious lips pursed. “Well, after high school we went to UCLA.” Her gaze touched him for a second. “You’re an alum, too.”
“Yes.” He agreed. “A few years before you I’m guessing.”
“Four,” she answered promptly.
“Very precise.” Why would she know that?
A grin flashed his way. “I searched for you online. Standard research prior to putting in the bid to Obsidian Studios.”
“What was your major?” He lobbed the focus back to her. Smothering a yawn, he convinced himself it was drowsiness and not disappointment he felt. Of course her research had been business related not personal.
“Communications, but I switched to business when By Arrangement came to be.”
“You started your business in college?”
She laughed. “Sometimes I think we started our business in the womb. My mom is big on celebrations. Birthdays, holidays, accomplishments were all good reasons to have a party. So we grew up entertaining. When we hit the sorority at UCLA, we naturally stepped up whenever there was an event. Our reputation grew and we started doing other events around school. It started as a way to make extra money. But as people graduated, they still called us and we started doing events outside the school. Our junior year, we named our business By Arrangement, changed our majors to business and never looked back.”
The love for her job rang loud in her animated chatter. The pride in her accomplishments, which she clearly shared with her sister, indicated a bond of trust and affection. From what she’d said of her mother, it sounded as if she’d had a happy childhood.
Too much cheer for him.
“I must say By Arrangement came highly recommended. Your previous clients must have missed out on the toe print experience.”
In profile he watched the joy in her switch off.
He heard a sigh and then a very polite, “I’m sorry. Please send me the cleaning bill and I’ll see it’s paid.”
Blessed silence filled the vehicle.
He turned to look unseeing out the window, feeling as if he’d spanked a puppy. She was the one in need of a spanking. If she’d gracefully accepted the blame when he’d first arrived, he would have left immediately and