The Hudsons: Max, Bella and Devlin: Bargained Into Her Boss's Bed / Scene 3 / Propositioned Into a Foreign Affair / Scene 4 / Seduced Into a Paper Marriage

His eyelids slowly lifted and his unfocused gaze found hers. His mouth curled in an easy, delicious, breath-stealing smile. “Morning.”

The groggy, rough timber of his voice made her stomach muscles quiver. Wouldn’t she love to wake up to that every day?

“Good morning.” Had he forgotten they’d already played out this scene in his kitchen? She hadn’t. How could she forget his catching her looking like a shipwreck victim washed up on the beach? She’d been embarrassed to be caught in her pj’s, but she’d thought he was still sleeping when she’d staggered toward the coffeepot. He might survive on a couple of hours sleep, but she couldn’t—not without a few gallons of coffee to lubricate her mental wheels.

His hand painted a hot path up her spine. She gasped. Then his fingers cupped her nape and he pulled her forward. Too stunned to react, she let him move her like a rag doll. Warm lips covered hers. Her heart stopped and then lunged into a wild beat as his mouth opened over hers.

Shocked, but thrilled, she responded, meeting the slick, hot glide of his tongue as he stroked her bottom lip for just a second before reality smacked her upside the head.

Who does he think he’s kissing? One of his blondes? His dead wife? She jerked free.

Max stiffened and blinked, the fog vanished from his eyes instantly and clarity returned. His hand fell away and his lips compressed. “I apologize. That shouldn’t have happened.”

She fisted her fingers and fought the urge to press them to her tingling mouth. “It’s okay. You must have been dreaming.”

His jaw shifted. “Must’ve been.”

He lifted his arm, checked his watch and swore. “I’ve missed the conference call. You shouldn’t have let me sleep.”

Coming on the heels of her fantasy desire to kiss Max coming true, his accusatory tone rubbed her the wrong way.

“You needed the rest. I’ve called everyone involved and rescheduled the call until noon. It was no big deal, and no one was inconvenienced. If they had been I would have woken you. That’s why I’m waking you now. We need to go.”

She stood, removing herself from the temptation of kissing him again even if he did think she was someone else, and pressed her hands to her thighs to still their trembling. “I’ve left you a new toothbrush on the bathroom counter if you want to freshen up.”

Not that he needed to. He’d tasted delicious.

Stop it, Dana.

He rose, standing so close his scent filled her lungs and his body heat reached out to encircle her. She told herself to move away, but her legs refused to listen. Instead, she found her head tipping back and wished he’d kiss her again, this time fully awake and cognizant of what he was doing and who he held.

As if he’d read her mind, his gaze dropped to her lips. Her pulse rate skyrocketed and her mouth dried. His eyes returned to hers, but while his pupils dilated, his lips settled into an almost invisible line of rejection. “Again, I apologize. It won’t happen again.”

Disappointment settled like a fishing weight in her stomach. “I—it’s okay, Max. No harm done.”

His gaze bounced to her wall of photos. “Is that your brother?”

Another abrupt subject change. But then he did specialize in them. It had taken her a while after she first started working with him to keep up. “Yes.”

“What happened?”

“You mean what put him in the wheelchair?”

He nodded.

“James went swimming at a rock quarry with his college teammates. He dove in where he shouldn’t have. We’re lucky he’s alive. He’d planned to play pro football after he graduated and then coach. He had to abandon the first part of his dream, but he never gave up on the coaching part, and he didn’t let his disability stop him. He’s the defensive coordinator and has plans to keep moving up.”

“And the paintings? Who is Renée Fallon?”

He’d been busy while she’d been packing, and why did he have to ask personal questions now when her brain was still too stuck on that kiss to function? “My mother.”

“She’s very good.”

“Yes, she is. We’re all very proud of her.”

Without another word, he swept past her and down the hall.

Dana quit fighting and pressed her fingers to her mouth.

Forget that kiss happened.

He wasn’t kissing you. Not in his head, anyway.

But that kiss, accidental or not, wasn’t something she could ever erase from her memory.

In fact, she wanted another one.

And that blew her goal of escaping Max and getting a life of her own right out of the water.

Four

Hudson Pictures’ studios in Burbank reminded Dana of home.

The property had a forties vibe that was both nostalgic and quaint. She loved everything about the place from the large, well-maintained buildings housing the sets and equipment to the small bungalows that made up the offices. It was the architecture of those bungalows that reminded her of her grandparents’ waterfront community in Southport, North Carolina, which had been constructed in the same era.

She squashed a wave of homesickness and reminded herself she was living hers and her father’s dreams. Not many people got a chance to do that.

As she hustled through the studio grounds beside Max she couldn’t help getting mushy and emotional. When Dana had first started at Hudson Pictures, Lillian had personally guided her through the maze of buildings recounting the story of her life with Charles Hudson.

Oh, sure, Dana had recognized the subtle grilling the older lady had hidden behind the fairy-tale romance, but she’d been too enthralled by Lillian’s exciting past to resent the inquisition. Lillian’s blue eyes, eyes so like Max’s, still came alive when she’d talked about those days.

Lillian had told Dana that it had been Charles’s dream to make the story of their lifelong romance into a movie, but he’d died back in 1995 before seeing it to fruition. And now Lillian had adopted her husband’s dream as her own—one last gift to him before she joined him, she’d told Dana over their last tea. She wanted the world to know what a wonderful man Charles had been.

Looking at the Hudson matriarch now, no one would guess the older woman had led a secret life as a spy masquerading as a cabaret singer in France during World War II. That’s how she’d met Charles and their courtship had begun, and it was where they’d secretly married. When France was liberated, Charles had been ordered to fight in Germany, but he’d promised to return for his bride as soon as he could. He’d kept that promise, and then he’d brought Lillian here to the home and studios he’d built for her and made her a star. Lillian in turn had made Hudson Pictures a megasuccess, a privately owned filmmaking dynasty.

Dana sighed and pressed a hand to her chest. Every woman should have a larger-than-life romance like that. Her eyes grew misty just thinking about a lover who would cross the globe for her or stand by her through the difficult challenges of life. But so far, she hadn’t been that lucky. She’d had boyfriends in high school and college, but nothing with forever written on it—not even close, but not for lack of looking. She found either friendship or passion, but she’d never managed to find a man who brought her both. And that was what she wanted more than anything.

She was determined to hold out for a true love like her parents’, her brother’s or Lillian and Charles’s. With three excellent examples you’d think she’d have better luck.

“Dana.”

She startled at Max’s firm tone. “What?”

He stopped outside their office bungalow and stared down at her through narrowed eyes. “Did you hear a word I said?”

Her cheeks burned. “Um…no. I’m sorry. I was thinking about the Honor script and how lucky you were to convince Cece Cassidy to write it. She did a great job.”

“Jack convinced her.”