A Holiday Fling (17 page)

Kenzie bowed, a perfect Georgian gentleman despite his khakis and polo shirt. "Mademoiselle St. Just, your performance tonight was brilliant."

With a pang of regret she realized that the admiration in those amazing green eyes was because he was in character. Since he was working from memory, she slid into Marguerite. Recklessly she tossed her script over her shoulder, pages fluttering to the floor while she prayed she'd remember her lines.

She responded to Kenzie's dazzled Sir Percy by playing the scene ardently instead of the coolness of her first reading. They were from different nations, different ways of life. To a loyal daughter of France, this languid aristocrat was all she was taught to despise, while she was an actress, a woman to be bedded, not wed. Yet they both were caught up in a blazing attraction too powerful to deny, no matter how much it cost them.

When they finished the scene, the executives were sitting upright in their chairs. One of the producers muttered, "Jesus, who knew she was so
hot
?

Gomolko made a rueful face. "You were right, Kenzie, she's Marguerite. You've got your deal. Do you want the part, Ms. Marlowe?"

"Yes!"

"I'll contact your agent right away to work out the details."

As she stammered her thanks, the room erupted with excited talk, leaving her and Kenzie in a small zone of privacy. Now that they weren't acting together, she felt shy with him. Reminding herself that soon they'd be rolling around on a mattress together, she asked, "What did Gomolko mean about the deal?"

He smiled, tanned skin crinkling around his eyes. "I told him I wouldn't take the part unless you were cast as Marguerite."

No wonder the director had regarded her with misgivings—he'd been afraid he might have to choose between the actor he wanted and an actress he didn't want. "Then I owe you quite a thank-you. Why did you want me in particular? We've never even met."

"I've seen most of your work, and knew you were right for Marguerite."

She groaned. "Please don't tell me you saw
Biker Babes from Hell
."

He laughed. "That movie proved you could handle Marguerite's adventurous side. But I was already convinced. You should have won that Oscar for
Home Free
."

She thought of the awards ceremony wistfully. Attending dressed to kill and not showing a shred of disappointment when she didn't win had been a major test of acting skill. "There was a strong field of nominees."

"You were the best." He touched her hair with gossamer delicacy. "This red-gold is your natural color?"

She shivered, a little breathless. "Yes, but usually I play drab, worthy brunettes."

"The time has come for you to play a glamorous woman of the world, Raine."

"People who know me well call me Rainey."

He repeated that in his beautiful deep voice. He'd trained at RADA—the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art in London— which gave him an unfair advantage, she thought dizzily. Earlier he'd been Sir Percy admiring Marguerite, but his expression now made it clear he hadn't insisted on her for this movie solely because of her acting.

So be it. She'd attained success through discipline and unrelenting work, not wasting her time on high-profile affairs to get her name into the gossip columns. But a life without occasional recklessness wasn't worth living. Kenzie Scott was gorgeous, likable, and attraction crackled between them like a high-voltage current. If they had a fling, it would be by mutual choice.

How much simpler life would have been if he'd only wanted an affair....

Phoenix Falling

The Starting Over Series

Book Two

by

Mary Jo Putney

~

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Phoenix Falling

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with an excerpt from

AN IMPERFECT PROCESS

The Starting Over Series

Book Three

Excerpt from

An Imperfect Process

The Starting Over Series

Book Three

by

Mary Jo Putney

New York Times Bestselling Author

Corporate lawyer Val Covington has just received an unexpected windfall, and she’s seriously considering getting off the gerbil wheel of a corporate law firm and setting up her own office where she can practice "do gooder law." At a friend’s suggestion, she visits a rehabbed church that is available for rent to see if it might be suitable for an office. There she meets Rob Smith, the owner who fixed the church up, who is unexpectedly appealing. But does she really want to leave her safe rut?

Rob watched the burgundy-colored Lexus turn south on Old Harford Road, wondering if she had bought the car to match her hair. Even with a schoolmarm hairstyle and her sexy little body disguised in a severely cut navy suit, Val Covington crackled with physical and mental energy. She must be hell on heels in a courtroom.

How long was it since he had been so aware of a woman? Years. Four years, three months, and seven days, to be exact. He was glad that she appreciated the church's uniqueness, but it was just as well she wasn't interested in renting. If she were that near, she would be a temptation.

Yet he couldn't resist going up to his apartment and plugging "Val Covington" into a search engine. He got plenty of hits, mostly in the
Daily Record,
Baltimore's business and legal newspaper. She had won some high- profile cases and was a newly made partner at a top city law firm. Having met the lady, he wasn't surprised.

Nor was he surprised that she was considering her own office. Not only were corporate law firm jobs murderously demanding, but no amount of dressing the part could quite hide the maverick gleam in her eyes. He hoped she did decide to go out on her own and rip some fat-cat throats.

Preferably in a neighborhood far from this one.

* * *

Luckily Kendra wasn't at her desk when Val returned, since she would notice her boss's distracted mood. Safely in her office, Val closed the door and tried to concentrate on the most urgent of the briefs she had to write.

Usually work focused her mind, but not today. She gave up in exasperation and closed the file after fifteen futile minutes. Digging out her calculator, she began playing with figures, estimating expenses and cash flow if she opened her own office.

Making her best guess on the costs, it appeared that even after paying humongous taxes, the
Centurion
windfall would give her enough money to pay for start-up costs, then subsidize the business until it was established and could pay for itself.

And amazingly, that was based on a forty-hour work week. What a luxury that would be! She should be able to divide her time between paying clients and pro bono work and make enough for mortgage money, cat food, and her retirement fund. Having her own office meant she wouldn't be able to do the intellectually challenging work that required a team of lawyers, but working more closely with clients and their needs would compensate for that.