She usually wore her long, dark hair up in a neat, no-frills style, but this time she’d clipped the strands up in one of those messy, I’m-getting-ready-to-shower styles that left her neck dusted with loose tendrils—the kind a cameraman loved when shooting a love scene or any other scene requiring a shot of a woman’s vulnerable nape.
She hadn’t bothered with makeup, but her smooth olive skin and thickly lashed dark eyes made cosmetics unnecessary. A makeup artist would love her, and if the male crew members saw her like this they’d be salivating over her. She looked approachable instead of her usual cool as ice.
Despite her skills in the office, Dana could easily be in front of the camera instead of behind it. Another thing he’d missed.
The fact that she had never used her womanly shape, big chocolate-brown eyes and lush red lips to wheedle her way out of hard work was a point in her favor. He’d experienced enough vain, demanding actresses to lose patience with high-maintenance attitudes long ago. The last thing he needed was more behind-the-scenes melodrama. Movie sets were always full of drama of the unscripted and unwanted variety. The Honor set had been no exception.
During the winter his younger brother Luc had become engaged, knocked up his fiancée and decided to leave Hudson Pictures for a horse ranch in Montana. In the spring his cousin Jack had discovered a son he didn’t know he had and married the kid’s mother. About the same time the family had learned of their grandmother’s cancer after she’d had a frightening collapse. And then this summer his cousin Charlotte had become pregnant by the owner of the chateau where they’d been filming Honor.
If Max had his way, autumn would not yield any more real-life drama for the cast and crew and definitely not for him.
He shook off the past and focused on Dana. “I want you staying here until we finish the locked cut.”
Her eyes widened and then her teeth pinched her bottom lip. “But the final cut could take months.”
“We don’t have months and you asked for this position. I warned you that you’d be working around the clock.” He regretted letting her back him into a corner. But he hadn’t had a choice. He needed an assistant to pull this off, and he didn’t have time to train someone new on his methods. Dana knew how he worked. “If you can’t handle it, speak up.”
Her chin rose at his challenge and her cheeks flushed peach. “I can handle it. But when you said pack a bag I only packed enough clothing for a couple of days. I’ll have to swing by my apartment and pick up more later.”
“Fine. Let’s get started.” He headed for the stairs, hoping the climb would chase away his grogginess.
“Max, I need coffee first. It’s not even six yet. And in case you don’t know it, I stayed here until ten last night.”
Thanks to his security system’s ability to text his cell phone he knew how late she’d stayed. He’d deliberately avoided coming home until after she’d left, and then he’d rolled in around midnight. The pile of completed work she’d left on his desk proved she hadn’t been sleeping on the job all day. But then Dana had never been one to shirk even the dirtiest assignments.
“You know where the coffeepot is.”
“I left messages with the caterers and the housekeeper and asked them to resume services immediately,” she said from close behind him. “They should return first thing Monday morning. Hudson’s personnel director is trying to hire my replacement. In the meantime, unless you quit being so critical of every résumé you receive, you might have to work with a temp.”
He stopped and turned on the stairs. From the tread above her he looked down at her upturned face, and against his will the swell of her cleavage drew his gaze. The sight hit him with an unexpected punch of arousal.
What the heck?
Dana worked for him. That made her off limits. He ripped his attention from her smooth skin. Only then did he notice she carried several canvas bags looped over her wrists in addition to her ever-present briefcase. “Is there a reason why you’re telling me this?”
“Yes. I’ve run your office without a glitch for five years, Max. You need to know the effort that goes into that because you’re going to notice some rough spots during the transition. I’ll do my best to smooth them out, but you might just have to suck it up and deal with a few irritations.”
The fire in her eyes and voice surprised him. Had Dana ever talked back to him before? He didn’t think so. In fact, she’d almost been invisible in getting things done without drawing attention to herself. More than once he’d almost run into her because she was by his side before he even called for her.
“Nothing can slow us down.”
“Max, I can’t guarantee that, but I’ll try to make sure nothing does. Let me unload the groceries and then we can get started. You may be able to work without breakfast, but I can’t.”
A subtle floral fragrance reached his nose. Dana’s perfume? Why had it never registered before? And why was it intruding now? Not intruding, just distracting. She smelled good. He shook off the unnecessary awareness. He didn’t have time for distractions.
“Give me those.” He pulled the bags from her arms, carried them to the kitchen and set them on the counter. She immediately withdrew a covered rectangular dish from one and popped it into the microwave.
“What is that?”
“A breakfast casserole. I made it last night.” She methodically unpacked the remainder of the bags while the microwave hummed, and she stored each item in the cupboards or fridge—fruits and vegetables, juice, milk, bread, eggs, a wedge of the cheese he preferred, two thick T-bone steaks, his favorite cut of meat.
The other night he’d had to escape to the balcony while Dana cooked the spaghetti. The domestic scene had brought back too many memories. Karen had loved to cook. During their brief marriage they’d spent many hours together in the kitchen of their old house laughing, loving and eventually eating whatever she’d whipped up. That was back in the day when sharing a meal with his bride had been one of the highlights of his day, second only to making love with her.
Damn.
Karen had never set foot in this house, but he felt her presence everywhere he went these days. He blamed the disturbance on the script. Shooting the story of his grandparents falling in love reminded him of falling for his wife and the despair of losing her. He’d known he wanted to spend the rest of his life with his red-haired beauty within three days of meeting her, but he’d had only three years—years that had passed faster than a blink.
And now she was gone.
And it was his fault.
“When was the last time you ate?” Dana’s voice plunged into the depths of his dark memories and yanked him to the surface.
He drew air into his tight lungs and searched his mind. “I don’t know. Your spaghetti, I guess.”
She scowled at him. “Max, that was thirty-six hours ago.”
He shrugged. “I was working.”
She rolled her eyes and made a disgusted sound. “And you always forget to eat when you’re working.”
Did he? Was that why she was always shoving food in front of him?
She filled a tall glass with ice and some of the pineapple juice she’d brought with her and set it on the counter in front of him. He sipped the sweet liquid while she bustled around. Moments later the scent of coffee brewing filled the kitchen.
“You don’t need a new executive assistant. You need a keeper,” she muttered under her breath as she banged more items into cabinets.
The quiet anger in her tone raised his hackles.