“I’ve had a lot of practice thinking on my feet,” he said. “I just answered the question as if I were a man who believed in real love for myself. As if I were a man who had fallen in love with you.”
She gave a wry smile and walked toward him. “Sounds like acting to me.”
“It wasn’t that difficult,” he said, unable to take his eyes off her.
She visibly inhaled. “For some reason, it’s getting easier for me to pretend that I’m attracted to you.”
He chuckled. “That’s because you’re not pretending,” he said. “You are attracted to me just as I’m attracted to you. There’s something between us. I didn’t expect it, and I’m betting you didn’t either, but it doesn’t erase the fact that it’s there.”
“Lust, sex,” she said.
He gave in to the urge to pull her against him. “We’ll figure it out.”
The following day a delivery truck arrived while Luc was on the phone, arranging for publicity for another Hudson movie. He walked to the door and noticed Gwen returning from the barn to the house. She stared at the truck, then at him.
“Just a few things since I’m going to be here for another week and a half,” he said. The driver began to unload several large boxes.
Gwen scooted past the driver and looked at the boxes suspiciously. “What things?” she asked.
“While I’m beginning to appreciate the peacefulness of your surroundings, your technology is archaic,” he said. “That television is at least ten years old, and your Internet is too slow.” No sooner had the driver finished bringing in the boxes when Luc spotted a van turning into the long driveway.
“Roberts Satellite and Television Setup.” Gwen read the words on the side of the van, staring at him in disbelief. “Have you lost your mind? We already have satellite TV.”
“This is better, more powerful, more stations.”
“I don’t need more stations,” she said.
“I do. Football, basketball,” he said.
“Oh, this is ridiculous. I’m afraid to ask the size of the dishes. You just need to remember to take all this stuff with you when you leave.”
“No problem,” he said. “But I bet you’ll want to keep them. Once you get used to having something good, you don’t want to give it up. Speaking of something good, two of those boxes contain food. Do you mind unpacking them while I deal with the satellite guy?”
“Food,” she said, her eyes rounding. She opened her mouth in protest and seemed to think better of it. She bit her lip. “Are you saying you don’t want peanut butter sandwiches and soup every night?”
“Do you?”
“Okay, okay,” she grumbled, and began to open the food boxes.
Hours later, with the new widescreen TV ready for action, Luc turned on the set just before Entertainment TV was scheduled. He would study the interview to see what adjustments he and Gwen would need to make for future appearances.
He glanced around for Gwen but didn’t see her. “Gwen,” he called. “We need to watch the interview.”
“I’m watching Pyrrha,” she called from her office. “She seems a little restless.”
Frowning, he walked to her office doorway. “Take a break from it. We need to study the interview to remember what’s been said and to plan for the next one.”
“I remember what I said,” she replied, her eyes glued to her computer screen.
“Yes, but you need to remember what I said, too,” he said, moving closer and glancing over her shoulder. “Pyrrha is eating. She looks fine.”
Kicking her foot in what looked like a case of nerves, she met his gaze. “I don’t like to watch my performances.”
He’d heard this before, but he wondered what the nerves were about. “This is different. It’s an interview.”
“Still a performance,” she said.
He spun her chair around and looped his hand around her wrist and dragged her out of the chair. “It won’t last that long.”
“I really don’t—”
An uneasy suspicion grew in Luc’s gut as he tugged her down on the couch in front of the television. “What exactly did you tell that reporter?”
She shrugged but evaded his gaze. “I just did my part to add a little kick to the proceedings.”
His suspicion roared. “What the hell—”
“She may not even use it,” Gwen said.
“Gwen?” he said in a quiet voice that he reserved as an unmistakable warning of his displeasure.
She bit her lip but shook her head. “If you’re going to make me sit here and watch it, then you’re just going to have to wait and see it for yourself.”
“I don’t like surprises,” he said.
“We’re even. I don’t like watching myself on the screen. Any screen.”
A photo of Luc and Gwen flashed across the screen, interrupting their discussion. “Stay tuned. Our very own Trina Troy braved the cold Montana mountains to get the hot lowdown on movie star turned horse rescuer Gwen McCord and Hudson Pictures’ hottest bachelor of the moment, Luc Hudson,” said the cheery host of Entertainment TV.
“Do you think Trina Troy is a real name?” Gwen asked.
“No chance,” he muttered and brooded for a long moment.
Both rose almost in unison.
“I’m getting a be—”
“I’m getting a glass of wine.”
They both spoke at once.
Gwen shot a quick, uneasy smile and squeezed past him to the refrigerator. He followed her to the fridge, and she pulled out a beer and thrust it into his hand. “Here.”
“You seem a little jumpy,” he said.
She grabbed a bottle of wine and poured a glass. “I’d forgotten how intense the paparazzi can be. Or maybe I just chose to forget.” She took a sip and licked her lips. “I’m also not used to having someone around the house all the time.”
Luc found his attention snagged by the sight of her pink tongue sliding over her lips. He pushed back a stray strand of her hair just because he wanted to touch her. “Am I bothering you?”
She took another quick sip. “Bother.” She rolled the word around her mouth as if to test it. “Yes,” she said. “And you should stop it right away.”
He chuckled. “Can’t do that. In fact, I plan to bother you more.”
She shot him a dark, sexy look that almost distracted him from the shrill voice of the Entertainment TV reporter.
“We’re back now with Trina Troy, who is going to tell us how Luc Hudson is keeping Gwen McCord hot under the covers during those cold Montana nights.”
Luc shot a quick glance at the screen, then looked at Gwen. “Hot under the covers?” he echoed, catching her hand and tugging her toward the sofa.
“Not my words,” she said.
“Entertainment TV paid a visit to Luc Hudson and Gwen McCord at her Montana ranch. The two lovebirds were willing to play a little game of favorite things with me.”
The tape played, showing Gwen smiling as she answered the reporter’s questions about Luc’s favorites. The camera, as usual, loved her, catching