Desert Sheikhs Collection: Part 1. Jane Porter

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      Darian parked the car, expertly edging into the tiny space available at the address she had given him, and as he switched the powerful engine off he registered that he was surprised.

      So she lived in Notting Hill, did she?

      Which meant that she was successful. Property in this part of West London was astronomically expensive these days, ever since it had become ‘the’ place to live, with rock stars and Hollywood actresses swooping in to buy up every graceful house available.

      Except that no one had heard of Lara Black—not really. So how come all the outward trappings of success? Scott had told him that she had done a few forgettable plays and a couple of television commercials where she had either been playing a vegetable or lost in a crowd of people drinking cola. But she’d been in nothing major to date.

      He climbed the elegant steps to the house and pressed the button for Flat B. She probably rented, he reasoned. Or shared with a group of other impecunious women, pooling their resources so that they could live in an area with a prestigious address.

      The door opened and Darian’s eyes narrowed as he was greeted by a tall man with a lock of hair flopping into his eyes. Darian was rarely taken off-guard, but this time he was—amazed to be staring into the face of a stranger who was instantly recognisable. You would have had to have been living underground not to have recognised the star of the film which had broken all records at the international box-office last year.

      What the hell was Jake Haddon doing here?

      ‘I’m looking for Lara Black,’ growled Darian.

      Jake smiled. ‘I know you are, but she’s having one of those dress crises that women are prone to. The last thing I heard was a squeaked request from the bedroom asking me to answer the door! Come up and have a drink,’ he offered easily.

      ‘Thanks,’ said Darian shortly.

      He followed Jake up the stairs, his mind buzzing. What had Jake said? A squeaked request from the bedroom. So what kind of bedroom was that? A shared bedroom? And if that were the case then why had she agreed to have dinner with him tonight? Unless she had thought it was business—that he wanted to discuss the shoot with her.

      Darian was unprepared for the overwhelming sensation of irritation and—disappointment.

      He walked into the flat, which was huge—but at least now the up-market address became understandable. Of course she could afford to live in a place like this if Jake Haddon was footing the bill!

      ‘Drink?’ asked Jake.

      ‘I’m driving.’

      ‘Something soft, then?’

      Darian forced himself to be pleasant, though he most decidedly did not feel it. In fact, he was feeling at a distinct disadvantage—a situation which was both novel and unwelcome.

      ‘No, thanks. I’ll just wait for Lara,’ he said, and summoned up a brusque smile from somewhere.

      ‘I’d better go and hurry her up, then.’

      Darian nodded and watched the actor as he disappeared out of the room with a familiar loping stride. Funny, he thought, how celluloid could make you feel you knew someone—the way they walked and the way they spoke.