Hollywood Wedding (Landon's Legacy 3)

And then someone in the crowd laughed.

“Way to go, Evie,” a male voice called.

And that was when Zach knew that the woman in his arms wasn’t Frances Cranshaw at all.

She was Eve Palmer.

The realization stunned him, and his hold on her loosened. Eve reacted instantly, stumbling backward as she shoved free of his arms and then slapping him, hard, across the face.

“You bastard!”

Slowly, Zach lifted his hand to his cheek. Eve Palmer’s eyes blazed, her lips trembled. She was a study in feminine outrage, and he might have been impressed—if he hadn’t felt her incredible response in his arms, just seconds ago.

No, Zach thought, hell, no. He wasn’t going to let her get away with this.

“Nice,” he said in a low voice, “very nice. But names and games don’t work with me, baby. You’re wasting your time.”

She pointed a shaking finger toward the Porsche. “You have one minute to get into your car and drive out of here. Otherwise——”

“I wouldn’t give ultimatums, if I were you.”

“So help me, mister, I’ll call the police. You can’t walk onto my set and—and tyrannize me!”

“Tyrannize you?” Zach laughed sharply and folded his arms over his chest. “Is that what you’ll charge me with? Tyranny?”

“How about sexual assault? Does that sound better?”

“Come on, baby, give me a break. Who’re you kidding? You were all over me, breathing hot and heavy.” He caught her by the wrist as her hand arced toward him again. “Don’t do it,” he said grimly, “or I’ll call the cops myself.”

Eve glared at him. What a despicable SOB he was! This town was a paradise for good-looking, walking, talking egos but this one was in a class by himself. Kissing her was bad enough, but to have the audacity to claim she’d enjoyed it…

She’d despised everything about that kiss, from the feel of his arms to the taste of his mouth to the scent of him as he’d held her and if, just for an instant, she’d seemed to—to relax in his embrace, it had only been because he’d caught her so off guard, because she had never expected him to do anything so boorish and coarse…

…because she’d never expected his lips to brush hers with fire, his body to saturate hers with heat…

The ridiculous thought horrified her as much as his sudden laughter. It was as if he’d read her mind.

Color raced into her cheeks. Eve wrenched her hand from his, spun on her heel and pushed her way through the crowd, determinedly ignoring the whispers and the smiles. The rusty trailer that served as Triad’s on-location office loomed ahead, looking more like a sanctuary than the hotbox it was, and she headed straight for it.

He caught up to her when she was halfway there, his hand falling like a steel bar across her shoulder.

“I don’t like to be ignored, Miss Palmer.”

“No,” Eve said as he swung her toward him. “No, I can see that. Obviously, you’d rather be arrested.”

“We need to talk,” he said through his teeth.

“We have talked. I offered you a choice and you decided you’d rather spend the night in jail than get off this set.”

“Spare me the melodrama, please.” Zach looked past her at the trailer that stood baking in the sun. “Is that your office?”

“Francis?” Eve rose on her toes and glared over Zach’s shoulder. “Francis, call the police!”

The little man with the mustache and the goatee came rushing up, wringing his hands.

“I will, if you insist,” he said in a stage whisper. “But the negative publicity will——”

“Of course,” Zach muttered. “Francis, with an i, not an e.”

The little man drew himself up. “That is correct, sir. I am Francis Cranshaw, the famous director. And you are…?”

“Francis, dammit,” Eve said furiously, “will you stop being so polite? This isn’t a time for introductions!” She glared at Zach. “I don’t care who he is. I want him out of here, now!”

Zach smiled coldly. “Ah, but you should, Miss Palmer. Care for introductions, I mean.”

“Listen here, mister, as far as I’m concerned——”

“As far as you’re concerned, the ride is over.” Zach paused, wanting to draw out the pleasure of the moment, and that was when he saw the first horrified glint of comprehension edge into her eyes. “That’s right,” he said softly, and he smiled. “Evie, love, let me introduce myself. My name is Zachary Landon.”

* * *

A couple of hours later, Zach was pacing the faded carpet in the Triad office reception area. His trousers were torn, his tweed jacket was covered with dust, and his mood more than matched his appearance.

This morning’s sweet moment of victory had faded and had been replaced by his irritation at the childish power game Eve Palmer was playing. He’d been out here fifteen minutes now, cooling his heels, while she undoubtedly sat behind her desk and deliberately let the minutes tick away.

He reached the edge of the carpet, turned and paced in the other direction. It was just too bad she’d made it to town before he had, but then, she hadn’t had to waste precious minutes shoving the Porsche back on the road or coaxing it into starting up again. He’d still been under the Porsche’s hood when an all-too-familiar silver Jaguar had shot past him.

“No,” Zach had muttered as he stared after it, “no…”

When he’d finally arrived at the Triad office, the Jaguar had been parked in the lot, secure in its silver insolence. Zach had stared at it, ground his teeth together and wondered why he’d been stupid enough to laugh early this morning when Grant had offered to trade.

He could be in New York right now, buying a chocolate malted for some twelve-year-old kid instead of wondering how high a man’s blood pressure could get, all thanks to one woman.

“Dammit,” he said under his breath.

“Sir?”

He turned and glowered at Eve’s secretary. The woman smiled nervously, the way she would if she was facing a certified lunatic.

“Did you—did you say something, Mr. Landon?”

Zach’s eyes narrowed. “I said that I’m tired of pacing the floor.”

She shot to her feet as he strode past her.

“Mr. Landon! Sir, Miss Palmer isn’t ready to see you just yet. You can’t——”

“Watch me.”

* * *

Eve was standing in the tiny private bathroom that connected to her office. She’d showered away the grime, changed from the overalls to an ivory silk dress she kept in her office closet for eme

rgencies, and now she was trying to figure out how to best recoup her losses.

An apology seemed the only solution.

Her mouth curved down. What she wanted to do was stalk outside, walk up to Zachary Landon and slug him again. But common sense told her not to do it. His behavior had been rude and awful, but then, hers hadn’t been so terrific, either. That was what she’d decided to tell him, and if he had half a brain, he’d agree.

She shouldn’t have gotten so angry at him for barreling into the unmarked set. As for Zachary Landon—for all she knew, he made a habit of kissing women he’d never met before. The bottom line was that she should have controlled her temper, and he should have acted with more decorum. It was, as far as she could see, a draw. Surely, he would see that, too…

The door slammed against the wall as it was flung open. Eve spun around, her hand to her throat. Zachary Landon stood in the doorway, covered with dust and grime and looking as if he was on the verge of exploding. Emma peered past his shoulder, her face white.

“Miss Palmer,” she said, “Eve, I’m sorry. I told Mr. Landon he had to wait, but——”

“But he got tired of it,” Zach said, with a chilly smile. “So he decided to take matters into his own hands.”

Eve took a deep breath, shut off the bathroom light and walked toward him.

“So I see.” She looked at her secretary. “It’s all right You can go.”

Emma nodded. “I’ll be just outside,” she said, shooting Zach a warning glance.

The door swung shut. Eve waited, counted to ten, then forced a smile to her lips.

“Won’t you sit down, Mr. Landon?”

The woman was cool as a cucumber, Zach thought as he looked at her. The grubby overalls were gone, as was the dust, and she’d pulled that wild mane of golden hair back from her face. It was a style that would have looked matronly on most women, but the severe lines only emphasized the size and color of her eyes and the clean, sculpted bones that lay just beneath her creamy skin.

“I’ll stand, thanks.”

Eve nodded. “As you wish.”

She walked to her desk but didn’t sit down behind it. That would put him at too much of an advantage. Instead, she took a deep breath and said what had to be said.