An Imperfect Process (50 page)

An expressionless male assistant fed her lines as she performed the scene where Marguerite first meets Sir Percy. She began the scene coolly, for as the most acclaimed actress in Paris Marguerite was used to men wanting to bed her. She'd learned to keep admirers at a distance.

Yet there was something about this Englishman, a hint of steel beneath his languid manners and wicked wit. As the scene progressed she gradually realized that this was a man of surprising depths and passions, one who could keep a woman intrigued....

When she finished her reading, the executives were nodding approval. Gomolko said, "I want you to read again with someone else, Ms. Marlowe."

One of the suits spoke into a cell phone and five minutes later Kenzie Scott ambled into the room. Rainey caught her breath, electrified. Though Scott was rumored to be on board for
Pimpernel
, her agent had told her the deal wasn't set yet.

Rainey had kept her fingers crossed because she was a great admirer of Kenzie Scott's work. And—well, of his looks, too, she was only human. But even more, she respected his acting. Though she preferred his early work, before he'd become a major star, he brought depth and nuance to even the most macho action roles.

He looked across the room at her as if she was the most fascinating, desirable woman he'd ever seen. Every cell in her body kicked into overdrive. Tall, dark, and charismatic, he was almost supernaturally handsome. He was often mentioned in the same breath with Cary Grant, and not only because of his chiseled features and the faint cleft in his chin. The real similarity lay in his easy, aristocratic British charm. On screen he could project strength, intelligence, wit, vulnerability—all at once if the role called for it. Those qualities were strikingly vivid in person.

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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Page forward and complete your journey

with a bonus excerpt from

A HOLIDAY FLING

The Starting Over Series

The Novella

Excerpt from

A Holiday Fling

The Starting Over Series

A Novella

by

Mary Jo Putney

New York Times Bestselling Author

A Note from

Mary Jo Putney

My full-length contemporary romance Phoenix Falling had a couple of appealing secondary characters who were single and a little lonely, so they immediately popped into my mind when I decided to do a contemporary Christmas story for this collection. Greg Marino and Jenny Lyme are both in show business, and they're both genuinely nice people who love their work. But he's American and she's English, he's behind the camera while she's in front, and when their paths had crossed a dozen years before, their careers swiftly took them away from each other. Can this time be different?

The cell phone played the first few notes of "Fur Elise." Wondering if a commercial had come looking for him, he answered, suppressing another yawn. "H'lo."

"Greg—is that you?"

Not his manager. The female voice was deliciously British and familiar, but surely it couldn't be... "Yep, it's me. Sorry if I'm slow, but who is this?" With his luck, she was probably a high-class aluminum siding saleswoman.