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But she wasn’t above cheating by calling on an expert for guidance if it meant keeping on top of her workload. She picked up the phone, dialed and pressed the receiver to her ear.

“Y’ello?” The deep southern drawl comforted her almost as well as one of her daddy’s big bear hugs.

“Hi, Daddy.”

“How’s the new job, sweet cakes?”

She wished she could lie and say work was a breeze. “I’m feeling a little overwhelmed at the moment. I’ve e-mailed you a list of the duties Max has assigned me. Have a minute to take a look?”

“You betcha. Hold on a sec.” She heard him tapping on the keyboard over the phone line and then the greeting from his e-mail provider.

Seconds later he whistled. “You’re going to be earning that pay raise.”

“It looks like I’ll doing mostly grunt work and a lot of editing tasks.”

“Yep. But you wanted to polish your skills, and he’s going to make you.”

“I have a question for you. What do I need to do next to keep ahead of things?”

She’d kept him posted via e-mail every step of the way because he was living vicariously through her. Today’s list was just an update. She knew that if she failed in this position he’d be just as disappointed as she, maybe more so.

“You’ve been his right hand for years, so this isn’t too different. Put every tool Hudson needs at his fingertips. With him juggling two jobs—producer and editor—his time is going to be tighter than ever. Help keep others on schedule for him whenever you can, and run interference with the troublemakers and squeaky wheels. Every project has them. Identify ’em as soon as you can and be proactive, otherwise their poison can spread.”

“Got it.”

“When you finish the capturing he’ll start editing, and remember, an editor’s job goes faster if he doesn’t have to wait for the components.”

She scribbled as fast as she could and hoped she could decipher her notes later. “After the basic editing the next editing components he’ll need will be…” she searched her mind, “Sound, right?”

“If he’s not calling in an independent sound designer, that’s it. And you know where to find what you need, don’t you?”

“I do.” During college she’d been shocked to discover that most of the movie’s soundtrack was added during the editing phase. Quite often the audio recorded on location wasn’t up to par and dialogue or sound effects were added later.

There were audio libraries where film companies could buy or rent the sounds or background ambience they needed for a film. The roar of a passing subway train or the hum of a busy city street corner might be used in a dozen other films, but the typical moviegoer would never recognize it as one he’d heard before.

“I’ll get right on it, Dad.”

“That’s my girl. Give him what for. Show him that a steel magnolia can whup a California girl any day. Have they hired the composer for the musical score yet?”

“Yes. It’s not anyone I’m familiar with.”

“Get familiar. You want to be on a first-name basis, so that glitches can be smoothed over quickly and painlessly.”

“Got it.” She wandered to the window and looked out to see if Max was still in the pool. He was pulling himself out, his muscles flexing under wet, tanned skin. Using both hands, he slicked back his hair. His wet trunks clung to him like a second skin, outlining his masculine attributes in excruciating detail. Her mouth dried and her pulsed skipped.

“Miss you, sweetheart.” Her father’s voice pulled her out of the lust zone. She turned away from the window.

“I miss you, too. Thanks for your help.”

“Make sure home is your first stop after you put this one in the can. You’re due a vacation, aren’t you?”

She smiled. He father had never been anything but supportive of her career choice. Of course, that might be because they shared the same dream.

“Past due. I’ll come home for a visit after this is all over. I’ll see you then. Love you, Daddy.”

“Love you back.”

She disconnected and headed for the spare desk in Max’s office. Thirty minutes and six phone calls later she had a list waiting when Max walked in. He looked refreshed from his swim. His dark hair was still slightly damp, and he’d donned her favorite DKNY outfit of gray pants and a white shirt with subtle gray stripes.

She rose and handed him the pages and a memory stick containing the audio files from the library. “I’ve contacted the sound library and found the items on your list. They’re downloaded onto your flash drive. I also have the Foley artist on standby. I’ll call when you’re ready for him.”

She loved watching Foley artists work. Once they opened their little briefcase of “toys” the sound specialists could re-create just about any noise to be perfectly synced to the audio tracks and inserted during the editing phase. Dubbing in voice audio wasn’t nearly as interesting, but it still beat the monotony of logging and making edit scripts.

Max paused, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Thanks. You’ve been busy.”

She shrugged. “That’s my job.”

“Yes, it is.” But there was a new respect in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. His approval made her stomach turn somersaults and her entire body flush with pleasure.

Uh-oh. Getting over him wasn’t going to be nearly as easy as she’d hoped. She’d just have to try harder.

“You have to trust me, Max. I won’t let you down.”

“We’ll see about that.”

And that’s when it hit her. Max might be extremely charismatic, but he was also a loner. He didn’t let anyone in, not even her. If he couldn’t trust her after five years, would he ever?

“Give me ten minutes,” Dana said over her shoulder Monday morning as Max followed her into her apartment.

He ripped his gaze from her butt, but not before registering her nice shape in a pencil-slim black skirt.

What was his problem? Finding her in his kitchen early this morning wearing skimpy shorts-and-camisole pajamas with her dark hair rumpled and streaming over her shoulders had clearly messed up his thinking. She’d been waiting for the coffee to brew or, more likely judging by her worshipful expression, praying to the coffeepot gods to send deliverance from her boss’s brand of evil.

Maybe having her stay at his place wasn’t such a good idea. He liked his space and his privacy. But they were getting more accomplished than they would have in the office.

He checked his watch. “We have a conference call in two hours.”

“Max, I’ll have my suitcase packed in no time.” She dropped her purse and keys on an entry table made from glass and irregularly shaped but sturdy grayed branches. Driftwood? “Come in and make yourself comfortable.”

He did a whip pan of the apartment, soaking up details in a flash. He never would have taken his superefficient executive assistant for the relaxed beach-cottage type, but her rustic white-painted furniture with its bright blue cushions and citrus colored pillows combined with the box-framed seashells and artwork on her walls definitely looked as if he’d just walked in from the beach. Even the straw mats on the hardwood floor resembled the types he’d seen in coastal homes.

Not that he’d had time to see a vacation home recently.

He tried to sync the casual decor with the woman he knew and it didn’t work. He was used to seeing Dana in conservative suits with her hair tightly pinned up—like she was now. He crushed the memory of her long, bare legs, flushed cheeks and heavy-lidded eyes. But damn, she’d looked sexy in his kitchen.

Forget it, Hudson.

Easier said than done. No matter how hard he tried to erase the memory, it kept popping up on his mental movie screen.

He ran a finger under his tight collar. “Did you rent this place furnished?”

She turned in her small living room, her brown eyes finding his. “No, it’s all my stuff. Did you want something to drink while you wait?”

She spoke quickly, as if she were uncomfortable having him in her home. They’d decided to carpool today, since her apartment complex was on the way to the Hudson Pictures studios. It was too hot to wait in the car, so he’d followed her in.

“No thanks.”

“Have a seat then. I’ll be right back.” She hustled down a short hall, and his gaze stayed focused on her hip-swinging gait until she turned a corner out of sight.

The golden, orange and red hues of a large beach scene hanging behind the sofa drew him closer. He could practically feel the warmth of the setting sun reflecting off the water and glistening on the ivory sand. He moved on to a second painting on an adjacent wall of a bright yellow hang glider sailing above the blue ocean. A third picture had caught the infectious grin of a child in a ruffled orange swimsuit playing on the beach with buckets and shovels beneath a colorful umbrella. The pictures, similar in style and technique, were well executed and looked so real he could almost hear the waves and smell the salt air.

He checked the artist’s signature. All three were by a Renée Fallon. Fallon? A relative of Dana’s? He’d have to ask.

A cluster of twenty or so framed photographs drew him to the opposite wall. He recognized a much younger Dana with an older man and woman and a preadolescent boy. She looked enough like the trio that he guessed they were her family. He turned back to the painting of the child, noting the similarities, the same big brown eyes, same smile and same coltish legs and long, dark hair. Dana without a doubt. So the artist did know her.

He scanned each photograph, and it was as if he were watching a much less serious Dana grow up in front of him. It wasn’t until she hit what he would guess were her college years that her expression turned serious and her smile looked forced. What had caused the transition from carefree girl to serious woman?

In the next photo a group of young men in football jerseys surrounded a guy in his late twenties or early thirties. The guy grinned up at the camera, a trophy in his hands. He had Dana’s coloring and a more masculine version of her features. She’d said her brother was a football coach. This had to be him. And then Max realized the boys crowding around him almost obscured a wheelchair. Her brother was disabled? She’d never said.

His gaze returned to the previous pictures where the guy had been a tall, muscle-bound athlete wearing a football uniform. What had happened?

You don’t need to know. Your employees’personal lives are none of your business unless they impact their work.

But Dana had said a wake-up call from her brother sparked her decision to leave Hudson. That made the topic fair game.

A yawn surprised him. He blamed it on lack of sleep combined with Dana’s decor. The space with its pale blue walls and beachy furniture made him think of kicking back barefooted with warm sand trickling between his toes and a cold tropical drink sweating in his palm. The room was surprisingly soothing.

Exhaustion hit him hard and fast. When had he had a vacation last? Maybe after Honor was finished…. No, after his grandmother…He snuffed the thought, rubbed a hand across his face and sat on the sofa. He didn’t want to miss any of his grandmother’s remaining days.

He glanced at his watch and leaned his head against the tall backrest. He’d give Dana two more minutes and then he’d yell for her to hurry up.

But visiting her apartment had stirred his curiosity. Who was the real Dana Fallon? The hyperefficient quiet assistant in business suits or the sexy, mouthy, tank-top-and-jean-wearing woman who’d arrived at his house on Sunday?

He suddenly had a strong desire to find out.

The urge to kiss Max awake was almost too strong for Dana to resist. Too bad almost didn’t count.

“Max,” she called quietly.

He didn’t stir.

Two hours ago she’d come out of her bedroom and found him asleep. She couldn’t remember ever having seen him so relaxed before. He’d practically dissolved into the cushions of her couch. But she shouldn’t be surprised. She’d be shocked if he’d had more than two hours’ sleep last night. He was pushing himself too hard—exactly the way he had after he’d lost his wife.

Why did men always think drowning themselves in work would cure a problem? It didn’t. It only delayed dealing with the issue. And exhaustion made any problem much harder to handle.

While watching Max sleep, something inside her had melted, and she’d known she was in trouble. She’d wanted to cover him, tuck him in and kiss his smooth-for-the-first-time-in-forever forehead. Instead, she’d studied the shadows beneath his eyes that even his tan couldn’t hide and decided not to wake him. She’d known he’d be irritated at himself for falling asleep and even more irritated with her for not waking him, but too bad. He’d needed the rest. Everyone at the studio would benefit if he had a nap, and he’d be sharper for the upcoming meeting.

She told herself she had nothing to feel guilty about, and it wasn’t as if she’d been wasting time. While he’d slept she’d worked from her laptop at her kitchen table. But now his respite was over.

“Max,” she tried again, a little louder this time. He still didn’t stir. Dana dampened her lips and eased onto the cushion beside him. The warm proximity of his leg beside hers made her heart race. Touching him both appealed to her and repelled her. She flexed her fingers. She wanted to stroke his smoothly shaven jaw—ached to actually—but that would only make leaving him all that much harder. And she was going to leave. Eventually.

She debated her options. Shake his leg? She checked out the long, muscular thigh beside hers and discarded the idea. Tap his arm? No, she’d always hated being poked awake—her brother’s favorite method when they were schoolkids and had to catch the bus.

She cupped a hand over the shoulder closest to her and gently shook him. “Max, wake up.”

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.”

Upon Lillian’s request, Max’s cousin Jack had approached his former lover for the job. “He ended up with a great screenplay from her and found a son he didn’t know he had—a double blessing.”

Jack and Cece’s romance was just one of several connected to Honor’s cast and crew. Was it too much to hope for one of her own before they wrapped? Apparently.

And then she noticed Max’s scowl. “Lillian is thrilled to have a great-grandchild.”

His frown deepened. “Is there anything else you’d like to share with me before we go into this meeting?”

She winced at the bite of his sarcasm, and then she wanted to smack her forehead. Duh. She’d forgotten that according to the Hudson rumor mill he and Karen had been trying to get pregnant when Karen died. Mentioning his younger cousin Jack’s son had not been a good idea.

“No. I’ve made a list of bullet points that require attention and action right now, but I’m not exactly sure why your uncle David is calling this meeting, and he wouldn’t say. I don’t know if what I have is relevant.”

She hurried through the door he opened for her and bolted toward her old desk, where she dropped her briefcase and withdrew a folder, which she passed to him. They had yet to sort out a new office for her, and since her replacement hadn’t been found, there was no rush to vacate the space. Max had rejected each of the applicants’ résumés personnel had sent over. He’d yet to call one single person in for an interview.

“Everything you need should be in here. Do I get to sit in on the meeting?”

“Yes. But I’ll do the talking.”

“Understood.”

He’d barely spoken on the drive in. Was he still thinking about the kiss that, she suspected in his opinion, shouldn’t have happened? She couldn’t stop rehashing it. If only she hadn’t jerked away…

What would he have done?

Nothing. He wasn’t kissing you. He was kissing whomever he’d been dreaming about.

But what if she was wrong? What if he had known it was her?

Excitement made her shiver.

Get real.

All right, so chances were he hadn’t been thinking of her.

Should she tell him she’d enjoyed the kiss? Probably not. If she played her hand and he rejected her, it could get uncomfortable. Would she be able to handle the humiliation of running into Max at one Hollywood event after another? The Hudsons were powerful people. One word from any of them whispered in the right ear and she’d have a hard time ever finding a job anywhere in the movie biz.

That would be a disaster because the last thing she wanted to do was tuck her tail between her legs and run home, disappointing herself, her father and her brother.

But what if she could find a way to make Max notice her as a woman…?

She thought about her brother fighting the odds and winning, and about her father who’d found a way to achieve his dreams on the East Coast instead of the West, and her mother who made a living sharing her color-drenched view of the world with others. She’d faced rejection head-on daily until she’d finally found success.

Dana asked herself how she could be any less courageous.

She watched Max’s stiff spine as he headed for his office.

Every member of her family took risks on a regular basis, with their hearts and their careers. She was the only one who always, always, played it safe. Coming to Hollywood was the only real risk she’d ever taken…and she’d done that only after she’d landed the job as Max’s executive assistant.

It was time she found the courage to gamble on something that really mattered. And what really mattered was Max.

“We have a problem,” David Hudson’s voice said over the speaker.

Dana wasn’t crazy about Max’s uncle. He might be charming on the surface, but in her opinion he was a womanizer who never had time for his children. The only reason she didn’t hate him was because he treated his mother, Lillian, well.

“What problem besides a shortage of time?” Markus Hudson, Max’s father and the CEO of Hudson Pictures, countered.

Dana liked Markus, and she saw a lot of him because he was close to Max and often stopped by the office to chat. Markus was a wonderful husband, father and son.

While only Dana and Max occupied the office, Max’s oldest brother Dev, the COO of Hudson Pictures, plus Luc, Max’s younger brother who acted as PR director, had joined them on the conference call but had been silent thus far.

“What kind of trouble, David?” Max asked.

“Willow Films is making a World War II picture scheduled for release just prior to Honor.”

Dana gasped and nearly dropped the pen she held for note taking. Willow was Hudson’s biggest rival. There wasn’t a lot of good feeling between the two film companies. In fact, the competition sometimes turned ugly.

“Worse,” David continued, “rumor has it the story has some similarities to Lillian and Charles’s. But I can’t get anyone to tell me how similar the two films are.”

“How accurate is your source?” Dev asked.

“I trust it,” David replied.

Dana could feel Max’s tension and see it in the lines on his face. His fingers fisted on his desktop. “Even if we could swing an earlier release at this late date, I don’t think I can finish Honor any faster.”

“We’re not asking that of you, son.” Markus’s voice filled the room. “But we might need to put a PR spin on this to make our film sound bigger and better and different or Willow will kill our momentum.”

“I’ll get on it,” Luc said. “But it would help to know more about their product.”

“I’ll see what I can get,” David said, “but they’re pretty damned tight-lipped.”

Adrenaline rushed through Dana’s system. One of her past boyfriends was an assistant director for Willow, and she and Doug had parted on good terms. In fact, he owed her a favor….

She sat up straighter as she turned an idea over in her mind. Could she get the information this group needed out of Doug?

She opened her mouth to volunteer, but sealed her lips without saying a word. Why make promises she wasn’t sure she could keep? Best to test the waters first.

But the chance to do something to make Max notice her had fallen right in her lap. And she was determined not to blow it.

“Long time no see, babe,” Doug said as he joined Dana at The Castaway in Burbank on Tuesday evening.

Dana had invited Doug to the restaurant in the hills overlooking the golf course because it had been his favorite back when they were dating. Once the sun set and the city lights twinkled below, the setting would be magical. Too bad it had never sparked romance between them.

“I’m glad you could make it on short notice.” She rose from her seat and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. As usual, the doofus turned his head at the last second and she caught him square on the mouth. He was one of those people who kissed every female, young or old, on the lips, and because he was the total package—smart, ambitious, charming and attractive in a golden-boy kind of way—he could get away with it. Unfortunately, there had never been any chemistry between them, not even a tiny fizz. But they’d given it their best shot.

“Lucky you called when you did. The boss and I leave on recce at the crack of dawn tomorrow. I won’t be back for at least two weeks, longer if it doesn’t go well.”

“Ooh, I’m jealous. I love scouting out potential locations. Where are you headed?”

“Can’t say. Top secret. But it’s somewhere warm and sunny with umbrella drinks.” His blue eyes, shades paler than Max’s, glimmered with amusement. He took his seat. “Congrats on the promotion.”

“You heard?”

“Tinseltown is a small, gossipy community. Besides, you were once my girl, so I keep tabs on you. Liking the job so far?”

“Most of it. It has a steep learning curve, but I’m learning from the best.” She wasn’t going to tell him Max was working her fanny off, and she was lucky to get six hours of sleep each night or that she loved every minute of the torture.

“I’ll bet it’s a load of pressure with Honor nearing completion.”

She smiled. He’d opened the subject, which made her job easier. As an assistant director, Doug assisted the director much the way she assisted Max. Doug didn’t actually direct and he was okay with that. She’d have preferred the more creative position. But his job meant he knew a lot about ongoing projects.