Tempted By Collection

“Yup,” Rick spoke up, unable to resist. “Like yesterday.” It was also roughly when their whole “relationship” had started.

Chiara shot him a quelling look, and he tossed back an innocent one. He moved his arm off the sofa, gave her shoulder a squeeze, and then leaned in and nuzzled her temple for a quick kiss.

“Mmm,” Melody said, as if tasting a delicious story, “you two move fast.”

Rick relaxed against the sofa again, and responded sardonically, “You don’t know the half of it.”

He knew he risked Chiara’s wrath, and he was surprised to find himself relishing the challenge of sparring with her again. No doubt about it—they set sparks off in each other. And it would probably carry over to the bedroom.

He glanced at Chiara’s profile. She was a beautiful woman. Winged brows, pink bow lips, thick, rich chocolate hair and a figure that was hourglass without being voluptuous. She was also talented and tough enough to play a kick-ass action movie heroine and do her own stunts. He had to respect that—all the while being attracted as hell—even though he knew celebrity actresses like her couldn’t be trusted.

They were duplicitous—they had to be for the press. Like right now.

Chiara seemed chummy with Melody—as if they were friends, or at least acquaintances from way back. Melody asked a few questions about Pegasus Pride, and Chiara answered, while Rick threw in a few sentences at the end.

He wasn’t the star attraction here, and there was no use pretending otherwise. Sure, he had a lot riding on this film—money and otherwise—but he wouldn’t be why this movie succeeded, or not, at the box office. Chiara was the public face of Pegasus Pride.

After a few minutes, Melody changed the subject, mentioning the upcoming Ring of Hope Gala to Benefit Children’s Charities, for which half of Hollywood turned out. “So give me the scoop, Chiara.” Her voice dipped conspiratorially. “What will you be wearing?”

“I haven’t decided yet. There are two dresses...”

“Give me the details on both!” Melody said, her face avid with anticipation.

Rick suppressed a grunt. As far as he was concerned, a dress was a dress. He didn’t care what it was made out of—whether a pride of lions had to be sacrificed for the embellishment, or the designer used recycled garbage bags. His youngest sibling might be an up-and-comer in the fashion business, but it was all the same to Rick—or as his sister liked to say, Bless your style-deaf soul.

“There’s a one-shoulder pale blue column dress from Elie Saab. The other gown is a red chiffon—”

“Oh, I love both! Don’t you, Rick?”

If it wasn’t for Chiara’s significant look, Rick would have answered that naked was his first preference. Chiara had a body that invited fantasies even, or especially, if she was aiming verbal barbs at him.

He settled back. “I don’t know...isn’t pale blue the color for Cinderella?”

Chiara turned to him and smiled, even as her eyes shot a warning. “Wrong fairy tale.”

When Melody just appeared confused, Chiara cleared her throat. “Well, keep your eyes open on the night of the gala to find out which dress I go with.”

The reporter pressed Stop on her recorder. “So when am I going to see you again, Chiara? Girls’ night sometime at Marmont? Paparazzi snapped Leo there just last week.”

Rick raised his eyebrows. From the lack of a ring, Rick deduced Melody was divorced, widowed or had never married. “You ladies do go for the chills and thrills.”

Chateau Marmont was a trendy celebrity haunt. Some booked one of the hotel rooms for privacy, and others just went to party and be seen. But he preferred his thrills a little more real than a Leonardo DiCaprio sighting.

“I’d love to, Melody,” Chiara said, “but can I take a rain check? This movie is wearing me out—” she looked down demurely “—when Rick isn’t.”

Yup, strong acting chops.

Melody laughed. “Of course. I understand.”

When Melody excused herself a moment later in order to freshen up, Rick regarded the woman who’d been driving him crazy. “So... I wear you out?”

Chiara flushed. “Don’t look at me that way.”

“Mmm. The image of us and a bed is sort of stuck in my mind.”

Chiara shifted, and her skirt rode up her leg.

He focused on her calves. She had spectacular legs. He’d seen them encased in skintight denim on set, and in a barely there miniskirt in a photo that had circulated online. He imagined those legs wrapped around him as he lost himself inside her...

On a whim, he reached out and took her hand, and caressed the back of it with his thumb.

“What are you doing?”

Was it his imagination or did her voice sound a little uneven?

“Move closer,” he murmured. “There’s a photographer watching us from across the room.”

Her eyes held his. “What? Where?”

“Don’t look.” Then he leaned in, his gaze lowering.

Chiara parted her lips on an indrawn breath.

Rick touched his mouth to hers.

When Chiara made a sound at the back of her throat, he deepened the kiss. He stroked and teased, wanting more from her, craving more and not caring where they were. When she opened for him, he fanned the flames of their passion, cupping her face with his hand as she leaned closer.

When her breast brushed his arm, he tensed and stopped himself from bringing his hand up to cup the soft mound in public. He wanted to crash through her barriers, making his head spin with the speed of it.

As if sensing someone approaching, Chiara pulled back and muttered, “We have to stop.”

Rick spotted Melody walking back from across the room, a big grin on her face. Obviously the reporter had seen the kiss. Odele would be pleased. “Not if we’re going to pretend to be a couple.”

When the reporter drew near, she teased, “Did I say you two are fast? Now, that moment would have provided some photo op for the magazine!”

Rick settled back and forced a grin for the reporter’s benefit. “We’d be happy to give a repeat performance.”

“No, we wouldn’t,” Chiara interjected, but then she smiled for Melody’s benefit. “I’ll make sure you get plenty of good pictures for the cover story at the photo shoot tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Melody said politely, maintaining her perkiness as she sat down to gather her things.

Rick hadn’t gotten an invitation to the photo shoot—which was just as well. They were boring and went on for hours. Apparently, though, even Odele had drawn the line at a cozy tableau of him and Chiara with their arms around each other.

“Do you have a cover line yet for this article, Melody?” Chiara asked, her face suddenly turning droll. “Or has Odele already suggested one?”

Rick knew from his experience with movie promotions that the cover line was the front cover text that accompanied a magazine article: From Tears to Triumph, I’m Lucky to Be Alive, or even the vague but trustworthy standby, My Turn to Talk.

“No,” Melody said, “Odele hasn’t offered anything.”

“How about ‘Chiara Feran—True Love at Last’?” he offered drily.

Melody brightened. “I love it. What about you, Chiara?”

Chiara looked as if she was ready to kick him out of this interview, and Rick suppressed a laugh.

Oh, yeah, this was going to be a roller coaster of a relationship. Make-believe relationship.

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