The Hudsons: Max, Bella and Devlin. Maureen Child

and schedule your car maintenance and even your dentist and doctor appointments. You’re a brilliant producer and film editor, Max. You can schedule a multibillion dollar project down to the dime and edit it down to the second, and heaven knows, you can work miracles with film and the cast and make sure everyone else’s needs are met. But you can’t manage your own life.”

      “What?” Karen had often said the same thing. That without her he’d be lost. She was right. That’s why he had Dana.

      Dana pushed her bangs off her forehead and sighed. “That’s not your fault. You’ve never had to. You had your family and an army of servants and then your wife and now me to do all that for you. But you’re going to have to learn. Your next executive assistant may not be willing to manage your personal life, and I won’t be around forever.”

      “We’ve been over that. You can’t quit.”

      Her gaze met his dead on, steady and determined, dark brown and serious. “I promised to see you through the end of Honor. And I am leaving Hudson Pictures once we’re done. I negotiated the noncompete clause out of my new contract. You can’t give me what I need, and I’m not going to let you hold me back anymore.”

      Her comment took him aback. Man, she was full of surprises today. None of them good. “I’m not holding you back.”

      “Yes, you are.”

      The sadness in her voice caught him at a loss. He didn’t understand all this emotional crap, and he was too tired to try to figure it out. Was she PMSing or what? “What exactly is it you want, Dana? I gave you the promotion you demanded.”

      She glanced toward the doorway and shifted on her feet. “I need a life.”

      “You have a life and a job most people would kill for. You travel the globe and frequent five-star hotels and restaurants. You wear designer clothing to premieres and work with movie stars others only dream of meeting. The films we create make history, damn it.”

      “No, Max. You make history. I just watch from the sidelines.” She dug in her briefcase, extracted her PDA, a pen and a pad of paper and then rapidly filled the page with her neat script. When she finished she pushed the sheet toward him.

      “What is this?” Whatever it was, he knew from her expression that he wasn’t going to like it.

      “This is a list of people who make your world turn. Your caterer, dry cleaner, housekeeper, dentist, doctor, barber and the like. Until your new executive assistant is hired, you’ll be dealing with these people yourself.”

      “Why won’t you?”

      “Because it’s not my job anymore.”

      Speechless, he stared. Where was the efficient, quiet woman who’d worked for him for the past few years? “What in God’s name happened to you in France?”

      “I had a wake up call from my brother. He made me realize that my life was passing me by while I ran yours.”

      “You have a brother?” How could he not have known that? Come to think of it, did he know anything about Dana’s personal life? He searched his mind and came up with a blank slate. She didn’t share; he didn’t ask. He liked it that way.

      But then he realized he didn’t even know where she lived or where she was from originally. Going by the slight accent that slipped out now and then he’d guess she’d come from a southern state. He’d have to have personnel fax over a copy of her résumé.

      “My brother, James, is two years older than me. He’s a football coach at the university back home. Coaching was his dream, and he didn’t let anything stop him from attaining it.”

      She pulled out a manila folder and slid it across the countertop. “Here’s the schedule of your current appointments and a selection of the caterer’s sample menus. Mark your choices, add anything else you want and then fax the sheets to the number on the top of the page. They’ll coordinate the delivery times with Annette.”

      Confused, he frowned. “Who is Annette?”

      She sighed as if she’d lost patience with him. “Your housekeeper. She’s worked for you for four years.”

      He should have known that. But when was he ever home during the day? “What in the hell is going on, Dana?”

      “I’m your associate producer now, Max. I won’t be your caretaker anymore.”

      Caretaker.

      He stiffened at the insult. “I’m thirty-three years old, not a child who needs a nanny. I can take care of my own damned needs.”

      A daring sparkle glinted her eyes and the edges of her mouth slowly curved in a mischievous smile. One dark eyebrow rose. “Really? Care to wager on that, Hudson?”

      Something inside him did a queer little twist. He’d never seen this side of Dana before, and he wasn’t sure what to make of the change or if he liked it. “Oh, yes, I’ll bet on it. Put your money where your mouth is, Fallon.”

      She shook her head. “Money means nothing to you.”

      Drumming his fingers on the folder, he ticked through the possible stakes. What did she have that he wanted? The answer was obvious. “If I handle all my personal junk without asking for your help, then you’ll stay on as my assistant after we wrap Honor.”

      She bit her lip and shifted on her feet. “Your executive assistant, not an associate producer?”

      “That’s right. After this project you return to your old duties.”

      “And if I win?”

      “I’ll give you the best damned reference you’ve ever seen. I’ll even make a few calls to help you get your next job.”

      Her lips parted and her chest rose as she took one deep breath and then another. Her bright orange top kept drawing his attention to her breasts. Her sedate, conservative clothing had never had that effect on him. He forced his gaze back to her face. Should he insist she go back to her professional clothing? No. That would be a sign of weakness.

      “Be sure you want to wager this, Max. Because you won’t win.”

      He was sure he didn’t want to have to train someone new. Dana might have been around for a long time, but he remembered how many assistants he’d hired and fired before finding her. As she’d pointed out, she made his life run smoothly. She’d fit in from the first day she stepped into his office.

      “I’m sure you won’t win. Do we have a deal?”

      He’d give her the responsibility she wanted with this picture, and if he played his cards right and showed her the harsh reality of an associate producer position, she’d see her job as his executive assistant involve a hell of a lot less work and stress. She’d beg to have her old job and her old hours back. Then his life would run smoothly once more.

      She held up one finger. “If you win, I’ll stay on for one year. That’s the most I’ll promise. Not that it’s going to happen.”

      His competitive spirit kicked in. She ought to know better than to back him into a corner. He thrived on working under pressure. And he would do his best to change her mind about the one-year stipulation. “You have yourself a deal, Dana.”

      He held out his hand and she put hers in it. The contact of her warm, soft palm and long slender fingers against his sent a surge of electricity up his arm. He’d felt that jolt only once before.

      The first time he’d kissed his wife.

      He yanked his hand free.

      Man, the Honor script was messing with his head.

      He didn’t have those kinds of feelings for Dana. Or anyone. And he never would again. Because the last time he’d let himself care about a woman she’d ended up dead.

      Three

      Max