Date with a Diva. Joanne Rock

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      Would he taste like that strong brew, or would his mouth be more reminiscent of chocolate ice cream? Neither possibility scared her off. If anything, her own mouth watered.

      “I’m not a speeding object.” She’d meant to deliver the words with a bit more disdain. Instead, she spoke by rote with no feeling behind the sentiment, like a woman in the throes of a sensual trance.

      “Nevertheless, I’m not going to let you slide on by.” His mouth descended to hers while she stood paralyzed by her own surprise.

      Her own want.

      But as his lips coaxed hers apart, the slick heat of his tongue sliding inside her mouth chased away the dazed sensation. Her hands gravitated to his chest, tracing over the wall of muscle she’d been longing to feel for hours. He cradled her chin in his palm, tilting her head to the angle that pleased him most, and by doing so, pleasing her to no end.

      The lure of that kiss made her lean into him, her breasts already aching for contact. Her purse shifted on her shoulder, her linen jacket bunching up where she’d laid it across the leather bag.

      The wrinkles, the discomfort of her heavy purse, none of it mattered. She only cared about that sizzling point of contact where their tongues tangled and their tastes blended.

      Definitely chocolate ice cream. The sweetness of Nico Cesare’s kiss belied all his nervy words and his earlier bold assumption that she wanted to crawl into bed with him. For this moment at least, his arrogance took a back seat to the skillful lash of his tongue and the delicate way he wove one hand through her hair, sifting the strands between his fingers while he kissed her as if he had all the time in the world.

      She could have gone on forever, having long forgotten what made her want to protest this decadent mating of the mouths. But at that moment, a chorus of shrill screams went up in front of the hotel.

      “It’s Bram Hawthorne!”

      More shrieks. Feet pounded the pavement all around them as if a stampede of buffalo in high heels had come gunning for Club Paradise.

      Lainie and Nico broke apart, breathing heavy, clothes askew. She saw her own confused desire mirrored in his dark gaze for a fraction of a second before a herd of spandex-clad females buzzed past them at hyperspeed.

      “Please don’t let this be happening.” Lainie hadn’t expected the movie talent for another week or she never would have left the resort today. “Did they really just say what I think they said?”

      The screams continued at a deafening pitch out front. No wonder it felt as if eyes were trained this way. Apparently they had been—just not on her. And it would only get worse once shooting began.

      Nico stepped back a few feet, just far enough to give him a visual on the front entrance.

      “Well?” Lainie tucked her shirt more firmly into her skirt and slipped into her jacket, her pulse still dancing a hip-hop beat through her veins.

      Nico lifted a lone strand of mussed hair out of her eyes, his touch so gentle it gave her the same weak-kneed feeling as the bourbon, only better.

      “I’d say either that kiss has me seeing stars or else your lead actor has arrived.”

      4

      NICO HADN’T EXPECTED the look of mild horror on Lainie’s face. It appeared for only an instant, a split second of blood draining from her cheeks while her eyes widened. Then she shook herself, and as if by the mere force of her formidable will, she drew herself up to her full height, threw her shoulders back and marched into the fray with complete authority.

      Leaving Nico rushing to keep up, his senses still scrambled by her kiss. How was it possible that such a hard-as-nails woman could turn so soft in his arms?

      He jogged the few steps to catch her on the walkway alongside the hotel, unwilling to let her be jostled and elbowed by a bunch of screaming fans. In his time as an NHL star, he’d seen his fair share of overzealous followers getting pretty out of hand. He couldn’t even imagine what it must be like for a Hollywood icon of Bram Hawthorne’s level of fame.

      Like it or not, Lainie would have to suffer Nico’s presence today. So what if she had insisted they part company once they got back to the resort? Club Paradise was in an uproar that could easily turn dangerous without the proper security in place.

      As they rounded the corner to the front of the property, he could make out the Bram Hawthorne entourage by the concentration of popping flashbulbs. Hordes of howling women and even a few men swarmed around a center point Nico couldn’t quite distinguish.

      The poor bastard in the middle must be getting eaten alive by this rabid crowd. Lainie and Nico paused as they neared the mob.

      “You need to hire more protection for the golden boy over there if you expect him to survive the filming.” Nico studied the throng, searching for possible entry points to give the Hawthorne entourage a hand when he noticed Lainie’s feet already in motion.

      Right toward the vortex of the upheaval.

      He double-timed to reach her, skirting between a few sensible fans hanging back from the mad whirlwind. Prying Lainie from her position between two teenage girls wearing T-shirts from Bram’s last movie, Nico hauled her back out of the danger zone.

      “What are you doing?” Shouting over top of the earsplitting screams of the fans, she glared at him with a look that would no doubt send her employees running for cover. “I’ve got a five-alarm fire to put out here. I don’t have time to indulge any misguided attempts at chivalry.”

      “This isn’t a matter of chivalry. Those women will tear you to shreds if you try to keep them from the object of their affection.” In fact, he already spied a catfight breaking out among the ranks. “Where the hell is Brianne and all her security cameras?”

      “I thought I caught a glimpse of red hair over that way.” She pointed into the middle of the crowd as mayhem exploded on her sidewalk. “But she wasn’t prepared for this yet and it’s obvious she needs help. I’m going in there whether you like it or not. If you want to be of some assistance, you are welcome to come with me, but this is my hotel and you damn well better remember who’s in charge here.”

      This time, he was ready for her when she ducked into the throng. If his stint as a goalie had taught him anything, it was how to anticipate an opponent’s moves.

      “Then I’m damn well right behind you.” And what a fine designer-clad behind it was.

      AN HOUR LATER, Lainie still couldn’t shake the determined company of Nico Cesare.

      They’d intercepted Bram Hawthorne and had just finished helping smuggle him into the hotel. Thankfully, they’d managed to do so without losing the actor’s shirt or his limbs despite the urgent tugging of relentless fans. With Bram and his personal crew of assistants already on their way up to their private suites, Lainie headed toward the main desk only to realize the rapid click of her footsteps was echoed by the quiet thump of worn leather loafers behind her.

      She whirled around to face him, only to be taken aback all over again by how his long, muscular body and wickedly dark eyes made her pulse flutter. Even celebrated actor Bram Hawthorne’s good looks took a back seat to this man’s raw masculinity. At least in СКАЧАТЬ