Free Tender Deception by Heather Graham

Vickie fought the flush that rose to her cheeks. “I don’t even remember!”
    “The hell you don’t!” he growled forcefully, and the hard set to his well-defined chin kept her from protesting afresh.
    She glanced uneasily around before leaning toward him, the hardness in her stare equaling his. “I repeat,” she stated heatedly. “What difference does any of this make now? You keep talking about three irrelevant years ago! I’ve been married since. I’ve had a child. You’ve had your numerous affairs. We are working together now, and that’s all. I don’t like to discuss the past!”
    “I’m discussing the past so that we can get to the future,” Brant said, strumming forceful fingers upon the table. “Me-thinks, my lady, that thou doth protest too much,” he quoted lightly. “And I also think you’re one hell of a liar.”
    “Brant—”
    “No, Vickie.” He cut her off firmly, his eyes blazing despite his low tone. “I came back here for Monte, but I came back for another reason too. You, my dear Miss Langley. In all my consequent ‘affairs’ as you call them, I’ve been looking for something. Something real, something honest. Something we could have had.”
    “Don’t!” Vickie objected fiercely. “Talk about liars! You walked out of here with nothing on your mind but your star-studded future! You’re inventing things that didn’t exist! You’re all talk, and I’m just too old to fall for it.”
    “Wrong!”
    The ogling waitress brought the credit card and form to the table and Brant and Vickie both fell silent as he signed in a large distinct flourish. Preoccupied, Brant still gave the girl a polite smile, obligingly signing the autographs she requested with a pleasant banter. Lulled by his tone, Vickie began to believe their too personal conversation would be over.
    But when the waitress had gone, he turned back to her with none of his grim fervor lost. “Wrong, Vickie. I’m not talk—you know damned well I never was.”
    “You’re a Hollywood star,” she sniffed derisively.
    “I’m a man,” he corrected her quietly. “The same man I was before. I happen to be an actor, which makes it rather incongruous that an actress should scorn my livelihood.”
    Vickie inclined her head skeptically. “Sorry.”
    Rising, Brant assisted her from her chair. She was forced into greater awareness of his dominating physique. An involuntary shiver rippled down her spine, and she felt her breathing grow ragged.
    “Come, my lady,” he chuckled, his voice deep and throaty in her ear, “and I’ll shortly relieve you of my proximity.”
    She graced him with a very baleful glare that caused his grin to deepen devilishly. “I’ll relieve you of my proximity for the time, that is,” he promised with amused solemnity. “You are going to be seeing a lot of me.”
    “Really? Your confidence is amazing.”
    He shrugged. “Maybe. But I wouldn’t suggest a wager against me. I want you, my sweet leading lady, and I intend to get you.”
    The door to the restaurant swung shut behind them and Vickie turned to him bitterly as they strolled for the Mercedes.
    “I thought you weren’t going to ask me to bed.”
    “I haven’t—yet. We’re going to start with basics.”
    “You’ll excuse me,” she retorted, raising an arched brow as he ushered her into the passenger seat, “if I don’t happen to be around for your basics, since I’ve stated I’m not interested in the finale.”
    His annoying, knowing grin never left his face. His blue eyes raked over her form in a probing, assessing gaze.
    “You’ll be around. We both know it. The only one you’re lying to is yourself. Why, I don’t know. But I think I’ve already solved half of my dilemma. You’re afraid of me. Now, the question is why.”

CHAPTER THREE
    “S CENE THREE—FIVE MINUTES.”
    Jim was a damned good stage manager, Vickie mused idly as she watched him call his command. A no-nonsense person, he seldom smiled or joined in any