Free Stormy Vows/Tempest at Sea by Iris Johansen Page A

opened her mouth to tell him just what she thought of his arrogant statement, when there was a brisk knock on the door.
    Donovan's eyes flew to her face. “Are you expecting someone?” he asked sharply.
    “Who would I be expecting?” she asked caustically. “I'm the new girl in town, remember?”
    With a muttered curse he strode swiftly to the door and threw it open. He surveyed the man who stood there with extreme displeasure.
    “What the hell are you doing here, Jake?” he growled sourly. “I thought I had made myself clear.”
    The deep masculine voice of their visitor was mocking. “You always make yourself clear, Michael. I'm not here to poach on your preserves. I'm here purely on business.”
    Donovan moved aside reluctantly. “It better be damn pure,” he said bluntly, as the other man strolled into the room. “You haven't had a platonic thought about a woman since you were in kindergarten.” He turned to Brenna and said shortly, “This is Jake Dominic, Brenna.”
    Dominic glided forward, lithely graceful as a panther in pursuit of it's prey, to take her hand in his. He was almost sinfully handsome, she thought, with his dark eyes, dark hair, and the face of a fallen angel. If the eyes had the jaded cynicism of one who had done everything, seen everything, and found the world now a trifle boring, it only added to the wicked attraction of the man.
    “You're always so gracious, Michael,” he said over his shoulder, black eyes gleaming with amusement. Then he turned his attention to Brenna. His glance ran over her with lazy impudence. “Delightful, quite delightful!” he drawled softly. “It's really completely unfair of my barbaric friend here to try to keep such a prize to himself. I'm very happy to meet you, Miss Sloan.”
    “Cut it out, Jake,” Donovan ordered bluntly. “What are you doing here? I told you this morning that I'd have Monty bring Brenna by the set tomorrow afternoon.”
    “I have to fly to Nevada in the morning to reshoot some scenes on location,” Dominic said smoothly. “As you're so determined to have the picture finished on schedule, I thought I'd drop by and have my discussion with Miss Sloan tonight.”
    “At this time of night?” Donovan asked skeptically.
    Dominic checked his watch casually. “It's barely eleven,” he challenged. “Since when have you cared about keeping conventional hours where a picture is concerned?”
    Donovan muttered a curse under his breath, and gave in abruptly. Turning to Brenna, his glance ran over her flimsily clad body critically. “Get dressed, Brenna,” he ordered harshly.
    An irrepressible chuckle escaped from Dominic, as the swift color came to Brenna's cheeks. With her head held high, she turned on her heel and strode furiously into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
    As she quickly discarded the robe and donned panties and bra and a pair of faded blue jeans and a scarlet sweatshirt, she muttered stormy imprecations beneath her breath at the arroganceand chauvinism of men in general, and Donovan and Dominic in particular. Then putting her feet into a pair of scuffed loafers, she marched back into the living room. It did not improve her temper to see the two men apparently on the best of terms, drinks in their hands, talking in a desultory fashion about outtakes.
    They both turned at her entrance, and a mischievous smile appeared on Dominic's face as he took in her less than elegant garb. “Ah, the young maid cometh,” he said teasingly. “Tell me, Michael, do you think that outfit will sufficiently discourage my lustful nature?”
    “Shut up, Jake,” Donovan growled sourly.
    Dominic cocked an eyebrow, dark eyes gleaming devilishly. “You know what a satyr I am,” he said silkily. “I wonder if we should send over to wardrobe for a suit of armor.”
    “Jake!” Donovan said warningly.
    “Or perhaps we could order a chastity belt,” Dominic suggested irrepressibly.”
    “Very funny,” Donovan said