Infamous. Jane Porter

      She stole a quick breath, noticed the diners around them watching in rabid interest. “People are staring,” she said softly, a faint catch in her voice. “Please release me and let me go.”

      “I’ll release you, but I want you to sit down and finish this—”

      “It is finished,” she flashed furiously.

      “No, it’s not. Sit down. Now.” He exhaled. “Please.”

      Alex slowly sank into her chair again, her purse falling limply to her lap.

      Wolf leaned forward, his dark eyes never leaving hers. “Don’t let your pride get in the way, Miss Shanahan. Your boss told me you’re smart, ambitious. This is an opportunity to make a name for yourself.”

      Her nausea had returned, stronger than before. “Make a name for myself as what? Your fake girlfriend?” She stared at him incredulously. “You think I should jump at your proposal, be flattered because I’m a plain-Jane girl and don’t get out much, is that it? And yes, I’m ambitious, but unfortunately not ambitious enough to date you. Not ambitious enough to pretend to be your girlfriend to get a promotion. I find it digusting that I’d gain industry status—respect—simply by being seen around town with you. That’s not the way life should work—”

      “Maybe it’s not the way it should, but it’s the way it does.”

      “And doesn’t that strike you as immoral? Wrong?”

      “No. It’s practical.”

      “Of course it would seem so to you. You’re the man that dates married women!” And with a violent jerk, she broke free and rose to rush from the table.

      Fighting tears, Alexandra squeezed through the tables lining the terrace, wound her way down a pink painted hallway to the ladies’ room even as his words rang in her head.

      Perfect for the job. Damage control. Publicity stunt. Pretend to date me. Practical.

      The tears fell even before she’d managed to lock herself inside the bathroom stall.

      This was exactly why her father hadn’t wanted her to come to California.

      This was exactly what her brothers had predicted would happen.

      They’d all said she was too young, too inexperienced to survive in a dog-eat-dog city like Los Angeles, and she’d been so determined to prove them wrong. So determined to make it on her own and do it right.

      But playing Wolf Kerrick’s girlfriend would be far from right.

      The tears trickled down her face, and she scrubbed them away with a furious fist.

      He’d pay her to be seen with him.

      He’d make sure she was compensated.

      Alexandra’s throat squeezed closed. She felt as though she were gasping for air on the inside, fighting for calm and control.

      And then it hit her. She didn’t have to go back to the table. She didn’t have to see Mr. Kerrick again or endure any more of his painful proposal.

      She could just go. She could just leave and get her car and return to work.

      It was as easy as that.

      Calmer now, Alexandra exited the stall, rinsed off her face, patted her damp face and hands dry. The valet attendant had her car key. She had her purse with her. She’d just go now.

      Alex left the bathroom but had only taken two steps when she froze, her body stiffening with horror.

      Wolf Kerrick was waiting for her. And standing, he was even taller than she remembered.

      She felt all her nerves tense, tighten. Even her heartbeat seemed to slow. “The men’s restroom is on the other side,” she said lowly.

      “I know.”

      “The bar is the other direction—”

      “You know I’m waiting for you.”

      Alexandra drew a quick, shallow breath. She was exhausted. Emotionally flattened. All her excitement, all her good feelings about meeting Wolf Kerrick were long gone. “There’s no point. There’s nothing more for either of us to say—”

      “There’s plenty. You can say yes.”

      My God, he was arrogant and insensitive. “I don’t want to say yes.”

      “Why not?”

      She flinched at his curt tone. It was clear he was used to getting his way and didn’t like being thwarted. “I’d never sell myself—”

      “This isn’t slavery. I’m offering you a salary.”

      “And I want to make it in Hollywood my way.”

      “And what is your way?” he taunted. “Making copies? Answering phones? Getting coffee?”

      Alexandra’s cheeks flamed. “At least I have my self-respect!”

      “You might respect yourself even more if you had a job that actually challenged you.”

      “My goodness but you’re insufferable. You should fire your managers, Mr. Kerrick. They’ve got you believing your own PR, and that’s a huge mistake.”

      He shocked her by bursting out laughing, eyes creasing with humor. “You really don’t like me, Miss Shanahan, do you?”

      “No.”

      “Why not?”

      “It doesn’t matter.”

      “It does to me.”

      “Why?” she retorted fiercely, spinning to face him, hands balled at her sides. “Does everyone have to be a fan? Do you want everyone lining up for your autograph?”

      Still smiling, his dark eyes raked her. “No.”

      “Because I’d be lying if I said I liked you. Maybe once admired you, lined up to see your movies, but that was before I met you. Now I see who you really are and I don’t like you or your chauvinistic, condescending attitude.”

      He jammed his hands into his trouser pockets, rocked back on his heels. “Your honesty’s surprisingly refreshing.”

      “Were you ever nice?”

      His lips pursed, black brows pulling as he mulled over her question. Reluctantly he shook his head. “No.” Then the corner of his mouth tugged into a sardonic smile. “But you don’t have to like me to date me.”

      “That’s revolting.”

      “Alexandra, if you’re not an actress and you don’t date actors and you can’t get yourself promoted out of the copy room at Paradise Pictures, why stay here in Hollywood? Why not just pack your bags and go home?”

      She felt a pang inside her, the muscles around her heart tightening. She’d asked herself the very same question many times. “Because I still want to make pictures,” she said softly. “I hope to one day be more involved, hope I can somehow make a difference.”

      He studied her a long moment, his expression closed, eyes hooded. “You can make a difference,” he said finally. “You can help make a picture—and save the jobs of dozens of people. We’re to start filming The Burning Shore in a little over a month’s time. Work with me. Let’s get the film into production.”

      Alexandra bit down, pinched her lip between her teeth. She’d love to make a difference, do something positive, learn something new. She’d love to be challenged, too, but she didn’t trust Wolf. “You think we could generate positive press together?”

      He’d never looked so somber. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here now.”

      CHAPTER TWO

      WOLF