Tempting The Mogul. Marcia King-Gamble

fantasies.

      While she waited for him to get back, Kennedy looked at the activity around her. The couple in a nearby booth were fighting, and from the looks of things the woman was winning hands down. The table across from Kennedy held several burly types who looked as though they worked construction. Their casual, dusty clothing was a sure giveaway, and she guessed they were grips, the people who moved scenery.

      “This is a busy place,” Kennedy’s escort said, sliding into the seat across from her and shoving a foam cup her way.

      “I can tell. Is there something you wanted to say to me?”

      “Yes, as a matter of fact there is. I’ve never wanted anything to do with this studio. The money from my trust fund is at stake, and my mother’s pleadings and her livelihood are the only reason I’m here.”