Read Online Her Leading Man by Alice Duncan - Free Book Online Page A

happy to
have her
around to look at forever. He guessed she could be considered beautiful, but
there was more to her, at least in his estimation, than mere beauty. Her
big hazel
eyes held a world of intelligence and curiosi ty, two
commodities sadly lacking in most of the actors Martin came across in his work.
Most of the actors he’d met were interested only in themselves.
Christina seemed interested in a number of things other than herself, and Martin
approved heartily.
    “ It won’t take long. I did all the cutting and
molding at the studio’s back lot in Los Angeles. All we have to do is hammer
it all together and paint it. We still have to paint hieroglyphics on the
tomb walls. Martin’s got to let me know what to hammer together first.” George
grinned
    Studying him narrowly, Martin decided George wasn’t too smitten
with Christina. He felt better about George, although he wouldn’t have blamed
the young man
if he had been intrigued. There was something mysterious and alluring about
Christina Mayhew .
    He turned his attention to Christina and tried to study her for a
while. Perhaps it was her lack of egomania that was so attractive, although
he didn’t think that was the only quality separating her from the majority of her
actress kin Every time his brain tackled the problem—and it had been doing
so from time
to time ever since she’d appeared next to those blasted camels this morning—it
settled on the word interest . She was interested in things. That’s what was so different about
her.
    The only other actress Martin had ever met who cared about anything
besides herself and her look s was Brenda
Fitzpatrick . And Brenda had married George Peters’s genius brother,
Cohn.
    Maybe it was something as simple as native
intelligence. Brenda was smart and curious, and Martin liked her. Christina
was smart and curious, and Martin wanted to grab her in his arms, rip her
clothes off,
and make love to her until they both turned to jelly.
    He passed a hand over his face and wondered if he was losing his
mind. The conversation George and Christina had been carrying on had drifted
over him like
fluff, and he hadn’t been paying attention. Now he jerked his fuzzy brain back
to the set plans.
    Concentrate , he commanded himself. Concentrate on your damned job, Martin
Taff t . He’d never had trouble concentrating on his work before.
He’d especially never had trouble concentrating on his work because of a woman.
He deplored all the hanky - panky that went on during the filming of pictures. He despised
directors and producers who took advantage of young females eager to make it big
in motion
pictures.
    As he glanced once more at Christina, who was smiling now at
George and saying something—Martin’s brain was too fuddled to listen to her—he
understood something else. He’d never met a woman like her before. Ever. Not even
Brenda Fitzpatrick.
    He
wasn’t sure that was a good thing.
    He told himself he was only tired. That’s what was wrong with
him . He needed to take a holiday . He hadn’t had a day off in ten years. Until this
picture came
along, he hadn’t even thought about taking time off. He loved his work so much,
it was all he’d ever wanted to do, and he’d never even considered taking a break from
it.
    But he was tired now. He promised himself a three -week vacation as soon as Egyptian Idyll was wrapped up. Maybe he’d even take a
month . A month off to go to Europe. Or maybe he’d sail off to
that island.
What was it called? Tahiti? Where that crazy artist had lived? That sounded
good. He needed a change. A rest and a trip to some new surroundings, and he’d be a new
man.
    And wouldn’t it be pleasant if he could go there with Christina? Just
the two of them, alone on a tropical island. Making passionate love in the waves as exotic birds sang around them and . . .
    “ So, is
that all right with you, Martin?”
    Martin blinked and glanced at George, who’d asked the question. “Um, I
beg