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Authors: Kathryn Barrett
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ago. Believe it or not, I’ve managed to forget all about it,” she said with a careful little laugh.
“Oh yeah? All of it?” He gave her a calculating look, and she realized he was a more experienced opponent than she’d thought yesterday. “That’s why you don’t want us here, isn’t it? Because you don’t want it all dredged up again.”
She gave him a cool look. “There are lots of reasons I don’t want your film crew in my store. Most of them have nothing at all to do with what happened ten years ago.”
“Come on. It’s a damn good deal for your store,” he argued. “Especially after the perks I threw in yesterday.”
“I disagree. Just the thought of having a film crew in here…” She shuddered. “My God, the potential damage to the premises alone is—”
“The only damage you’re worried about is to yourself,” Matt declared. “You’ve built a nice, tidy life here, haven’t you? And now you think all that will come crashing down around your pretty little ears.”
“Oh, please. I can do without the sexist comments.”
“Sexist comment?” He started to protest, then lowered his voice suggestively. “Honey,” he drawled, “if you want to hear a sexist comment—” He lingered for a moment on the V of her neckline.
She could feel her cheeks stain pink. She wanted to scream but settled for sending him a look designed to chill boiling lava.
He leaned over the desk, his green eyes too warm, too knowing. “What happened to you? Where’s that passionate, vibrant creature who melted the camera lens every time she let out a breath? What happened to the warm-blooded woman I couldn’t seem to keep my hands off of—even though I knew I should?”
He raked a hand through his hair in frustration. “Goddamn it, Claire, you used to be a living, breathing woman, not some…bloodless statue that belongs in the art museum.”
“How dare you,” she said, holding her voice still despite her trembling knees. “What right have you to come here and accuse me of lacking something—some vital ingredient—when you’re the one who obviously lacked any kind of morals? You slept with another woman when you were engaged to be married—”
“That’s not true,” he said, cutting her short. “We had talked about marriage, sure, but that was before—” He stopped, as if reluctant to divulge all the details of his and Hayley’s relationship, a relationship that had been dissected thoroughly in the press after her death. “Oh, hell, what difference does it make now?” He turned away, his gaze landing on the painting of Kaslow’s fountain.
“None whatsoever,” Claire said briskly, wishing he would leave before any more damage was inflicted. “As I said, I’ve put it all behind me. Gone on with my life. I would prefer to have no more reminders.”
He turned to face her. “Sorry, but I’m not going to disappear, at least not for the next few months. I’ve got a film to make here. After that, I’ll be crawling back to the ‘den of iniquity’ you seem to think I inhabit. All I want is a few days’ access to this place.”
Claire could only stare at him, astonished.
“I’ll make sure I stay out of your way,” he went on, ignoring her outrage. “No one from the crew will realize who you are. Hell, it took me a few hours to catch on, you’ve changed so much.”
“You honestly think I would let you—”
“You’re not the only one on the board. The others seemed more than ready to sign on the dotted line.”
It was true, she knew. Especially after they got a glimpse of the reworked contract.
He noticed her hesitation. “It’s a great deal for Kaslow’s. And I’m sure your lawyers have been over that contract like bees on a honeycomb. As soon as your board approves it, I’ll be out of your hair.”
She closed her eyes, a feeling of resignation creeping through her. There really was no argument she could make, at least not one that would be convincing. And with the
“Oh yeah? All of it?” He gave her a calculating look, and she realized he was a more experienced opponent than she’d thought yesterday. “That’s why you don’t want us here, isn’t it? Because you don’t want it all dredged up again.”
She gave him a cool look. “There are lots of reasons I don’t want your film crew in my store. Most of them have nothing at all to do with what happened ten years ago.”
“Come on. It’s a damn good deal for your store,” he argued. “Especially after the perks I threw in yesterday.”
“I disagree. Just the thought of having a film crew in here…” She shuddered. “My God, the potential damage to the premises alone is—”
“The only damage you’re worried about is to yourself,” Matt declared. “You’ve built a nice, tidy life here, haven’t you? And now you think all that will come crashing down around your pretty little ears.”
“Oh, please. I can do without the sexist comments.”
“Sexist comment?” He started to protest, then lowered his voice suggestively. “Honey,” he drawled, “if you want to hear a sexist comment—” He lingered for a moment on the V of her neckline.
She could feel her cheeks stain pink. She wanted to scream but settled for sending him a look designed to chill boiling lava.
He leaned over the desk, his green eyes too warm, too knowing. “What happened to you? Where’s that passionate, vibrant creature who melted the camera lens every time she let out a breath? What happened to the warm-blooded woman I couldn’t seem to keep my hands off of—even though I knew I should?”
He raked a hand through his hair in frustration. “Goddamn it, Claire, you used to be a living, breathing woman, not some…bloodless statue that belongs in the art museum.”
“How dare you,” she said, holding her voice still despite her trembling knees. “What right have you to come here and accuse me of lacking something—some vital ingredient—when you’re the one who obviously lacked any kind of morals? You slept with another woman when you were engaged to be married—”
“That’s not true,” he said, cutting her short. “We had talked about marriage, sure, but that was before—” He stopped, as if reluctant to divulge all the details of his and Hayley’s relationship, a relationship that had been dissected thoroughly in the press after her death. “Oh, hell, what difference does it make now?” He turned away, his gaze landing on the painting of Kaslow’s fountain.
“None whatsoever,” Claire said briskly, wishing he would leave before any more damage was inflicted. “As I said, I’ve put it all behind me. Gone on with my life. I would prefer to have no more reminders.”
He turned to face her. “Sorry, but I’m not going to disappear, at least not for the next few months. I’ve got a film to make here. After that, I’ll be crawling back to the ‘den of iniquity’ you seem to think I inhabit. All I want is a few days’ access to this place.”
Claire could only stare at him, astonished.
“I’ll make sure I stay out of your way,” he went on, ignoring her outrage. “No one from the crew will realize who you are. Hell, it took me a few hours to catch on, you’ve changed so much.”
“You honestly think I would let you—”
“You’re not the only one on the board. The others seemed more than ready to sign on the dotted line.”
It was true, she knew. Especially after they got a glimpse of the reworked contract.
He noticed her hesitation. “It’s a great deal for Kaslow’s. And I’m sure your lawyers have been over that contract like bees on a honeycomb. As soon as your board approves it, I’ll be out of your hair.”
She closed her eyes, a feeling of resignation creeping through her. There really was no argument she could make, at least not one that would be convincing. And with the
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