Dirty Games (Tropical Temptation)

“You

have her back,” he added.

“I don’t count. I’m paid to have her back. And I’ve known her for a long time. She doesn’t have to hide anything from me, because I already know her situation, vis-à-vis Callum.”

Her situation. He rolled his shoulders, which did nothing to dislodge the heavy, hollow ache in his chest. “Any word from the brother?”

“Nope. I’m working on that, too.”

“He lived with her for how long? Couple months?”

“About five months, I think.”

“He bails on rehab, drops out of sight, and less than twenty-four hours later somebody sells private photos of Quinn to a sleazy media outlet. Am I the only one who finds the timing interesting?”

“You’re not. But I’m hoping it’s just a coincidence because otherwise, it’s going to break her heart.”

Yeah, he knew how that felt. It fucking sucked.

Chapter Seventeen

“That was fun,” Eddie muttered as the elevators doors closed.

Because they had the mirrored and marble vestibule to themselves, Quinn slumped against him and let out the breath she felt as if she’d been holding for the better part of the last twenty-four hours. “Fifteen minutes.” She glanced at her watch to confirm that’s really all it had been. “Hard to believe the fate of my career came down to a fifteen minute meeting with a room full of suits.”

“One you nailed.” In the reflection of the doors, she watched his face split into a grin while he loosened his tie. “The executive producer relaxed as soon as you walked into the room. When you took off your jacket, the director’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.”

She mustered up a weak smile. “That was kind of the point of the outfit.” After adjusting the skinny strap of the low-cut, curve-hugging white dress she’d chosen for the meeting, she shrugged on the matching, fitted jacket. There’d been no point in playing coy. Hell, she would have worn the leather cat suit—or nothing at all—if that’s what it had taken to secure the role.

“Well, it worked. But you also blew them away with your level of preparation. You delivered a strategic reminder that while they might be able to get another actress who looks the part, nobody else would know the role as well as you. Mentioning how excited you were to work with the director didn’t hurt, either.”

A discreet ping announced their impending arrival at the first floor. A second later, the elevator landed like a cloud and the doors opened with a muted whisper. Eddie stepped aside to let her precede him into the soaring glass box of a lobby.

“If it weren’t for the fast talking you did yesterday, I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to show them.” She stopped and turned to him. “Thanks for working so hard to rescue this deal. I owe you.”

He buffed his nails on the lapel of his designer suit. “It would have been their loss.”

“Damn right,” she agreed, because people expected confidence from her, “but thanks anyway.”

Beyond the walls of windows, afternoon sunlight simmered off the Burbank sidewalks. She led them toward the exit while he added, “Are you sure you’re cool with doing the interview with All Access tomorrow? It would be good to get you in front of cameras sooner rather than later, to counteract the leaked photos. But I can push it back a couple days if you want a little more time before you step into that whirlwind. Once the first interview airs, everybody else is going to line up to talk you.”

“Tomorrow’s fine. I’m ready to get to work.” She slipped dark sunglasses on as she walked through the door he held for her.

“Are you?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” On the sidewalk, she paused and let the Southern California sun warm her. She was freezing. The cold that had settled into her bones yesterday evening had turned arctic as she’d sat in the back of an air-conditioned town car on the way to the airport. It had stayed for the flight, through fitful attempts to sleep, and during today’s meeting. Part of her was thankful. When the chill finally lifted, this numb sensation insulating her might leave with it. Then she’d really have to feel. And while she might have welcomed the heat of anger, or even gnawing worry, she feared what lurked beneath the protective layer of ice was a crushing pain of loss.

“You’ve taken a couple tough hits in rapid succession. I’m not questioning your professionalism, but I want to be sure you’re okay.”

“Always.” She offered up what felt like a brittle version of the patented Quinn Sheridan smile and brushed nonexistent lint from his shoulder. “Eddie, I’m always okay.”

As good an exit line as any. She stepped back, and fought to keep the smile in place. “Later.”

He caught her arm, tucked it under his, and steered her across the pavement. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

“Uh…okay.” Her high heels and their height difference required her to take a couple quick steps to match his pace. “Something else on your mind?”

“Yep.” He slowed as they approached her SUV. Their reflection appeared in the tinted windshield. “Have you talked to Luke?”