Silver Screen Romance

“Know of him.” The words felt like grit on Davia’s tongue. She persevered to deliver more explanation as she went inside.

“The land development world is a small one, once you reach a certain level.” Davia studied the view of the bay from her desk, hoping its calming effects would drench her. “Kale Asante’s name has its own penthouse address there.”

Davia hated the pinched tone she heard in her voice. She wasn’t exactly jealous of Kale Asante’s accomplishments. After all, her name held residence along the same address strip as Kale’s, if for different expertise.

As a cultivator of undervalued properties, Davia had been schooled in the art of recognizing diamonds in the rough from an early age. A product of her aunt’s tutelage, Davia had become a force in the realm of quaint movie theaters. Truth be told, she and Kale Asante orbited different quadrants of the same hemisphere.

There had only been one time when those quadrants had intersected. Regrettably, it had been time enough for Davia to form a none-too-complimentary impression of the well-known industrialist.

* * *

“Of course you know her,” Felton drawled, completely unsurprised as he repacked his briefcase.

“I know of her,” Kale clarified with an easy grin. “I’ve never met her. What?” he queried. Something in Felton’s resulting chuckle had him very curious.

Felton shuffled through his case again and took from it a black folder that he handed to his client.

A long, low whistle drifted past the beckoning curve of Kale’s mouth when he saw the 8x10 color glossy inside. “You are definitely worth every cent I pay you,” he said, his gaze repeatedly scanning the photo that captured the woman’s image from head to toe.

“This is very true.” Felton raised a hand. “Kale Asante, meet Davia Sands.”

Kale understood the man’s amusement. The fact that he of all people had never met the woman in the photo was wrong in so many ways.

“Can’t believe you never bothered to find out what she looked like,” Felton noted absently once he returned to packing his case.

Kale’s deep-set dark brown eyes scanned Davia’s image again. “Our last...interaction wasn’t under the friendliest circumstances,” he said. “It was a rather abstract interaction at best.”

“Business is rarely friendly, my man.” Felton smiled through a grimace.

“Mmm.” Kale took another moment to skim the additional information in the folder before he closed it. “That’s especially true when your adversary thinks you cheated a client to close the deal before she died.”

Felton sealed his case as he looked up at Kale. “Martella Friedman.”

Nodding, Kale shut the folder but set it on an end table instead of returning it to his lawyer.

“Davia Sands was in the running for the theater that inspired the lobby for my last multiplex. Seems I bought it right out from under her.”

Groaning, Felton flopped back against the black suede sofa he occupied and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. “So...Davia Sands hates your guts and you’re now fifty-fifty owners of an inherited property.”

Kale settled against the back of an opposing sofa. Folding his arms over a well-defined chest, he appreciated the view of the Atlantic beyond his balcony. “That about sums it up.” He sighed.

“So, should I tell Sully to get the jet gassed up for Iowa?” Felton asked, still massaging his eyes.

Kale took the black folder from the end table, thumbed through it again. “Actually...I’ve got another stop in mind.”

Chapter 2 (#u11d3f8b8-d5a5-5f54-b6d4-953f007d3c02)

“So, how about we set the meeting with Sorrells and his guys for the twenty-sixth? Yeah, I’m not thrilled about it, either, but I may be out of town for the next few days, maybe longer...” Davia frowned over the contents of a folder as she entered the lobby in reading mode. Meanwhile, her crew chief’s voice filled the earpiece of the headset she sported.

Davia smiled, having caught her receptionist’s frantic wave across the room. Laughing softly, she turned her focus back to her call with Curtis Wilkes.

“Curt? I need to go, but I’ll be in touch before I leave. Hopefully by then I’ll have more details about this trip.”

Davia took another minute to wrap up the call with Curtis. Her receptionist was almost out of her chair as she waved toward the bank of windows overlooking the famed Golden Gate Bridge in the distance.

“Leslie, what is it?”

“Davia, it’s Kale Asante.”

Davia allowed uncharacteristic surprise to illuminate her face as she stepped forward to greet the man who, until that time, she’d only seen via camera stills and promotional photos. She was offering her hand to accept his shake when he began to speak.

“Ms. Sands, it’s a pleasure.”

“Same,” Davia sighed, a little pleased she’d been able to respond. He had, without argument, taken her completely off guard.

“I know we don’t have an appointment,” Kale was saying, “but I’d appreciate you making time to see me.”

Davia managed a nod, still somewhat off-kilter by the man’s unexpected arrival. Absently, she tugged off her headpiece and caused her boyishly cropped locks to fall in disarray around her dark, fine-boned face.

Kale reciprocated the nod while taking inventory of the woman. Deftly, he assessed the features he hadn’t been able to fully appreciate during his study of the file his lawyer had provided him the night before.

His warm, appealing stare was fixed on every move she made from dragging her short hair back from her face to fingering the thick black plastic band of the headset she held. He didn’t know how long she’d been calling to him before he realized he’d been all but drinking her in with his gaze.

“Sorry about that.” Quietly, Kale cleared his throat and gave a quick shake of his head before meeting her eyes once more. “Would you mind repeating that?”

“Would you like to go to my office?” Davia asked obligingly, her tone just as quiet.

Kale hesitated before answering. Of course, going to her office was the logical move. They needed to talk, but to hell with him believing he’d be able to focus on a damn thing alone in a room with her. A silent, stony voice interrupted his thoughts to remind him that she hated his guts.

Kale nodded, the gesture accompanied by a fluid smile. “That sounds good.”

“Davia? Your assistant’s not at her desk,” Leslie pointed out, her blue eyes bright with interest. “Is there anything I could get for Mr. Asante?” A few beats passed and then she shook her head. “And for you, too, Davia.”

“I’m fine.” Davia arched a brow in Kale’s direction. “Mr. Asante?”

Kale sent an adoring smile toward the receptionist. “I’m good, Leslie, but thank you.”

“Yeah, thank you, Leslie.” Davia spared the woman a knowing look and wondered if Kale Asante could sense how very much her receptionist wanted to see to his needs.

“If you change your mind, I’ve got a bar in my office,” Davia said as she led the way.

“Uh, thank you.” Kale blinked away from where his gaze had drifted. He was pleased he’d managed the response before Davia Sands grew suspicious of his silence and turned to find that he was more focused on the way she moved beneath her clothes than on her offer for a drink.

Davia didn’t seem any the wiser and was showing Kale into her office suite a few moments later. The room had the remarkable ability to pull his eyes away from his hostess’s beckoning figure. He summoned a whistle while surveying the vast space of the corner digs and all it held. All the comforts of home.

“Tell me you don’t sleep here.” His rich voice held the distinct chord of wonder.

“All right.” Davia allowed her quiet to do the talking. When Kale laughed, she joined in.