Playing the Part (7 page)

“Antonio?” Mick interrupted. “Who the hell is Antonio?”

“Are you the only person in the free world who doesn’t read
People
?”

“Apparently.”

“Then how do you know what people are saying about you?”

“Lewis tells me what I need to know,” Mick said, trying to hide his impatience. “Can you…” He motioned for Chris to continue.

“All right. I’ll give you the Cliff’s Notes version. Antonio Rojas—”

“I know Rojas. He’s a douchebag,” Mick spat out. He’d worked with Rojas on a movie years ago when they were both on the verge of pulling in the big movies and the even bigger bucks. Rojas had been an ass to everyone on the set except those people he needed to suck up to. He’d even screwed everything with two legs in spite of the girlfriend he talked about all the time. Holy shit. That wasn’t Piper, was it?

“Yep, he’s a douche, all right,” Chris stated. “He was also engaged to Piper and cheated on her with one of her close friends. She caught him and dumped him three days before her wedding.”

“Wait.” Mick dug down in his memory. “I remember this. It was a huge movie. He hooked up with his costar.”

“It was Piper’s movie. Her first book adaptation, and she’d pulled strings to get Rojas and her friend the parts. A classic case of no good deed—”

“Will keep the knife out of your back,” Mick finished. Oh hell. Mick sat, trying desperately to wrap his head around this information. His skin crawled a little with the similarities between himself and Rojas. Mick never denied his reputation as a player. He loved women, loved having sex with women, loved their curves and softness. But he’d never made promises he didn’t intend to keep and never betrayed anyone’s trust. It was a twisted code of honor, but it was his, and he had no problem sleeping at night.

Chris interrupted his musings. “She kind of imploded after the breakup. Went after him in the press. She got angry. And very vocal.”

“Ouch.”

“She’s kept out of the press—no media, nothing like that since then. Avoids it like it’s poison.” Chris huffed out a laugh that was equal parts frustration and crazy. “Her publisher almost dropped her, but she’s been very good for the past year, trying to prove herself, and we’re close to getting her career back on track. I’m not thrilled this has popped up so close to finalizing that deal, but we’ll take it one day at a time.”

“Okay, so we only need positive press on this or she’s got real problems.”

“Yep.”

“I’ve got the press in the palm of my hand. I’ll help her out.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

“Thanks, man.” Mick held out his hand, his respect for this guy translating in his grip.

“Mick.” Chris’s voice was even, but his smile had an edge. “Let me be clear. I think sleeping with you is the dumbest thing Piper has ever done. If you hurt her, I’ll jack you up.”

Mick looked him up and down, the sheer mass of the man driving his point home. He hoped he’d never have to find out how much Chris would make him bleed. “Fine. All I ask is that you make it quick.”

Chapter Seven

The sound of screaming shook the limousine windows.

Piper shrank back into the plush interior of the vehicle, nudging up against Mick’s side and under the weight of his arm as he scooped her even closer.

“It sounds like a mob scene out there.” She turned to look at Mick, who was calm, cool, and sexily confident. Damn him. “I thought this was just a club opening.”

“It is, but there a number of A-listers who are supposed to be here, and the new owners publicized the hell out of the event.” He reached out with a long finger and wrapped a strand of her hair around it, tugging on it lightly to pull her lips within a breath of his own. “This isn’t your first rodeo. You did this plenty with Rojas. What’s got you spooked?”

“How did you know about Antonio?” Piper turned in his grasp, not sure why she was surprised Mick knew about the cheating bastard. A simple Google search would give him the skinny in about five minutes.

“Chris told me about what happened.”

“Traitor.”

“No. He threatened to castrate me if I messed with you.”

“Love him.”

Mick laughed, tracing the wide strap of her one-shouldered minidress. She’d had to scramble to find something on such short notice, but the look in his eyes told her she’d chosen wisely.

“You look amazing.” He leaned over and brushed his lips over the exposed skin of her neck, smiling against her flesh when she shivered. “I can’t wait to take it off you.”

“You could do that now.” She trailed her hand over his shirt. Mick groaned against her throat, his hips pushing up against her hand in carnal invitation.

Three quick raps on the window had Piper yelping in surprise. Mick laughed, then pressed a quick kiss to her jaw before adjusting his clothes. Piper did the same, shocked to find her hands trembling a little. There’d been a time when she’d done this six nights per week, loving the adrenaline rush, the boost that came with being part of the “in” crowd. But she’d overestimated both herself and the game and now she didn’t trust either one.

“Come on. We’ll press the flesh, grab a couple of drinks, and I’ll show you my amazing moves on the dance floor.”

When he opened the door, screams of “Mick” hit her like a wall of sound.

He reached back into the limo for her hand. “You ready? Just smile and stick with me.”

Piper followed him out, taking a moment to become acclimated to the full brunt of the noise, the photographer’s flashes, and the lights from the film crews. For a few seconds, she stood stupidly by his side, frozen in place until a buzz of excitement began sizzling in her veins. People, glamour, the admission into a place where one had to be on an exclusive list—it was exhilarating. She’d loved it two years ago, and she loved it now.

Hell, she’d even missed it.

Mick pulled her close, draping his arm around her waist and plastering her against his side. And like a switch turning on a light in a dimly lit room, she was
on
.

She smiled, standing in the pose that showed her legs to perfection. Mick moved through the crowd, speaking to reporters, signing autographs, and taking photographs with fans. And every time he stopped, he introduced her as, “Piper James, best damn writer” and “special friend” and never let her go.

She was here at her publisher’s request, practically ordered to have a good time, and after over a year of self-imposed exile, she was enjoying the scene.

“Mick! Do you have a few minutes for me?”

Scott Crews—handsome enough to be on the other side of the camera—stood with his film crew inside the club and was motioning them over.

“We’ll go over and talk to Scott. Give him a sound bite,” Mick murmured into her ear as his hand caressed her lower back. “He’s the only guy I trust in the press. He’ll be cool.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Mick pulled her to a stop and forced her to look up at him. His expression was sincere, the most serious she’d ever seen him, and she wondered what the hell Chris had told him about Antonio. “I’m the number one player in this town, and I know Scott. He’ll do right by us. Trust me.”

Oddly, she did.

She followed Mick until they stood in front of Scott, who held the microphone discreetly down and out of the way so that it almost felt like a casual conversation. Almost. “Mick. I hear that the filming of
Regan’s Gift
is going well,” Scott asked.

“I really need to thank Piper James here for all her help.” Mick pulled her closer, reaching up to smooth a strand of hair from her face. “She’s a fantastic author and a great consultant.”

Scott turned to her, his smile bright—Hollywood bright—and she tensed with the attention solely on her.

“Piper, have you figured out what you did to get stuck working with this guy?”

“Oh, it’s been a pleasure. Mick is a great actor. So professional.”

“And you two are keeping it strictly professional?” Scott asked, his coyness tempered by his sexy smile.

Piper looked at Mick, catching his eye and trying to read the situation. How were they going to play this? The photos of them kissing were on the Internet, but their failure to confirm or deny might be the best way to go. She’d watched Antonio do it often enough when he wanted to keep the buzz going longer.

“Ask me again in a few weeks when we do the exclusive,” Mick countered smoothly.

A few seconds ticked by while Scott watched them both before he handed the microphone to his assistant and motioned for the cameraman to stop filming. “Fine, Mick. I’ll let it go for now, but you owe me.” Scott leaned closer, pitching his voice so only they could hear him. “Lewis tried to get me to pay him for an exclusive. Apparently, he’s dealing with some real assholes. Not your usual crowd.”

Mick’s smile dipped only a fraction, but she could feel the tension where his arm looped around her.

“What kind of assholes?” Mick asked.

“The kind who go through people’s trash and liberally use Photoshop.”

“Got it.” Mick looked relaxed to anyone observing, but tension made his movements jerky.

“Piper, I’d love to interview you, as well. I’ve got a call in to your agent.” Scott kissed her on the cheek before moving on to the next target.

“Come on. Let’s get a drink.” Mick steered her over to the bar, ordering for them between nods to all the people who went by and said hello. “Having fun yet?”

Piper considered his question before answering, letting the thumping beat of the music and the energetic vibe of the crowd sweep through her. Since all she could think of was finishing her drink and dragging Mick onto the dance floor, the answer was clear. “Actually, yes. I am.”

“You handled it all like a pro.”

“What was that about Lewis?”

“He gets a little overzealous sometimes. I’ll talk to him.” Mick scanned the crowd before looking back down at her with a grin. “Dance with me.”

It really wasn’t a question. She found herself being pulled out onto the dance floor before she could acquiesce. Mick pulled her close, his hands resting lower on her hips than they should—possessive and full of promise. And she didn’t care. The whole experience was so damn good the only thing better would be to have him strip her dress off and touch her without the barrier. She just went with it and decided to forget all about publishers, the press, and all that bullshit for at least little while.

Piper moved in closer, allowing Mick’s hard thigh to slip between her legs as they swayed together. He responded immediately, melting against her body so they were plastered against each other from chest to thigh, his hum of pleasure tickling the edge of her ear where he’d dipped his head to nuzzle sensitive skin.

“How much longer do you think we have to stay?” Mick asked.

“I don’t know. You’re the pro in his area.”

“Are you kidding? Ever since you showed up in this dress, all I’ve wanted to do is see it on my floor.” He pulled back just far enough for her to see the lust roiling in his eyes.

“Fifteen more minutes.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, needing the support as much as craving his touch. Sinking to the floor in a puddle of turned-on mush wasn’t the photo opp she was looking for.

Fifteen minutes stretched to an hour as they found their rhythm and had fun with the other dancers on the floor. Mick had lots of friends in the crowd, and they tossed jokes back and forth as they all worked up a fun sweat. Piper was glad she’d chosen the slinky minidress, loving the glares Mick gave other guys when they checked out her legs.

Then the dance floor became more crowded as the guests let the alcohol they’d consumed melt down their inhibitions enough to indulge in a little bump and grind. Mick was a great dancer, but even he couldn’t outmaneuver the volume of bodies in the small space, and he signaled for them to call it.

Piper was happy to agree, looking forward to a few hours in bed with Mick, and let him draw her close so they could move as one through the crowd. They were successful, having quickly breached the outer area where it was calmer when Mick stopped abruptly, running them both into a wall of bodies in their path.

“What?” Her question sounded overly loud and harsh without the backdrop of the dance beat now pulsing from the speakers in the other room. Mick’s arm tightened around her even more, and she winced a little at the pain of his fingers digging into her hip.
What the hell?

Then she looked up and saw the reason.

Antonio.

A cold chill ran up her spine—a sharp contrast to the blazing hot anger in her blood. Both reactions roiled through her at the same time, pumping adrenaline into her extremities until they tingled.

“Hey, Tony,” Mick drawled, his smirk telling her that he knew Antonio hated that nickname.

“Mick.” Antonio lifted his glass to him, his eyes brittle as he swept in her as well. “Piper.”

There was a time when she’d loved her name on his lips and had responded like a lovesick teenager to the attention. And then there was a time when the very sound of his voice made her blood pressure spike with the emotional pendulum he put her through—jealousy, insecurity, anger, hurt, humiliation, and then finally anger again. Life with Antonio had never been the fairy tale the articles talked about. With the benefit of distance, she knew she only had herself to blame for believing the hype and ignoring the warning signs.

“Mick, you know she has to be back in her padded room by midnight, right?” Antonio snickered with his dumbass entourage, trading backslaps at his hilarity.

Okay. So maybe she was still a little pissed off. “Where’s your wife, Tony?”

“
She
knows the score. Knows I need my night off.” He looked her up and down slowly, letting the implied
unlike you
hang in the air between them, like an invisible flammable gas just waiting for one of them to strike a match.

“I’m surprised to see you here.” Mick headed off the argument, cool as a cucumber as he sidestepped the gauntlet. “I heard you were heading to Canada to try and find work after you got kicked off the last film.”

Bingo. Antonio flinched, his lack of career success the only thing that would get a reaction out of him. He had a temper, and his latest director had fired him after things became heated on set and Antonio took a swing at him.

“I’ve got things lined up.”

“I don’t actually give a shit about you or your career.” Mick stepped closer, a wide grin plastered on his face, nodding his head just to their right. “I’m just making small talk so the photographers over there can get their pictures for tomorrow.”

“Oh, I get it.” Antonio laughed. “You aren’t
really
fucking her. This is all a stunt. I got it, man.” He moved for a high five from Mick, but instead, Mick grabbed Antonio’s hand and twisted it until the man’s lips were edged with white from pain. To anyone else it looked like an extended handshake—just two guys bonding.

“Listen, asswipe,” Mick said, his voice dropping down into a tone he used in his John Dark movies. “It doesn’t matter what I’m doing with Piper, because you’re going to give her a wide berth from now on. No shitty looks. No comments.” He bore down harder when Antonio tried to pull away.

Piper knew she should step in, shouldn’t let Mick fight her battles, but the shock from the moment made her stupid. She’d never had anyone take up for her like that except Chris, and frankly, she didn’t know what to do. Stop it? Add her own two cents? Maybe. But she was a writer, not a speaker, and although she could write witty dialogue on the page, she wasn’t that quick on the draw in real time.

Mick barely took a breath to let her in the conversation anyway. “She’s with me. I protect what’s mine. You step out of line and I’ll make sure you can’t get an audition for Chuck E. Fucking Cheese. You got me?”

Holy hell. Piper sucked in a breath at Mick’s words, not liking the way both her heart and her sex clenched when he uttered “mine.” She wasn’t his—didn’t want to be his—but damn, it felt good to have somebody in her corner.

“Fuck you,” Antonio answered with less venom than pain.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Now smile nicely at Piper for the camera and walk away.” Mick gave Antonio a little shove, then wrapped his arm around her waist again. They both watched until Antonio had stalked away, and then together, they headed out the door to ask the attendant to call the limo.

At the attendant’s stand, Mick stood quietly for a moment, then murmured in her ear, “If you’re going to blast my ass for that stunt, please wait until we get in the car. A bunch of the press followed us outside.”

Piper opened her mouth to reply but had no clue what to say. Thank you? Fuck you? What the hell were you thinking? Did you mean it?

Mick had complicated everything with that stunt, muddying their clearly sexual waters with stuff that looked a little like friendship. Friendship led to giving a shit, and she wasn’t ready for what lay beyond.

So she did the one thing that to her mind encompassed all those things and none of them at the same time. The one thing she could do that he could take any way he damn well wanted. The one thing between them that never got complicated.

She kissed him.