“Yes.”
White teeth scraped across her lower lip. Seth felt his body tingle and tighten. Her mouth was a hundred times the temptation of the Ice Queen’s flagrantly displayed ass and breasts.
“Your friend is an intern with my company? Liza,” he stated calmly rather than asked.
The young woman’s face went tellingly blank.
“What makes you think that?” she hedged, the spark of panic returning to her eyes.
He nodded once at her Joan of Arc costume. “That’s a costume from my collection. Only one of my staff could have given it to you. And I brought just two interns tonight, Liza being the only female. Last I heard, they didn’t allow males and females to share rooms at UCLA,” he said, the vision of Liza’s résumé springing into his mind’s eye in perfect detail.
Anxiety and regret flickered across her face.
“I’m sorry. Please don’t be angry with Liza for bringing me and loaning me the costume. It’s my fault. I begged her to let me come tonight. I’m only visiting her in Los Angeles for a few days, and I wanted to see her at work. She’s been vibrating with excitement because she won the internship with you. She says you’re the absolute best in the special effects–makeup business. She’s been walking on air.”
“Are you trying to flatter your way out of this?” he asked. For a second, her anxious expression intensified. Then her gaze sharpened on his face. She smiled slowly, her anxiety apparently evaporating.
Funny. Most people couldn’t tell when he was joking.
“I just wouldn’t want Liza to get in trouble because of me,” she said, her smile lingering. “No one else wanted the Joan of Arc costume, and as you can see, Liza wasted no time on my makeup. I did my own hair. Do you . . . disapprove of my makeup?” she asked cautiously.
He realized he’d been scowling again as he tried to discern the trick of magic to her face. He kept telling himself not to stare at her, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.
“No. It would have been a mistake on her part to paint you,” he admitted gruffly. “Liza showed good taste in that. Or maybe that was your doing? Are you an artist, as well?”
She pulled a face. “Sort of. I doubt you’d think so.”
“What did you study at UCLA?”
“History,” she said, suddenly beaming.
He smiled and glanced down at her Joan of Arc costume in admiring amusement. “Appropriate. You still haven’t told me why Cecilia and that man were looking for you. Why were you running from them?”
She blinked, her smile faltering. He felt a little regret at using a technique he’d learned during his days in Army intelligence—indulge in a light, warm moment of banter and then spring the loaded question calmly on the unwary.
“Oh . . . yes. That,” she said breathlessly, glancing around the room. For the first time, Seth realized she’d been staring almost as fixedly at him for the last few moments as he had been staring at her. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for an answer.
“I’m not sure why Cecilia joined the hunt, exactly. She’s Tommy’s agent, so maybe she thinks it’s her duty,” she said vaguely.
“The man was Tommy?” he clarified, nodding toward the hallway. “Your boyfriend?”
“My ex-boyfriend,” she corrected. She seemed to realize how fierce she’d sounded because she sighed, and her stare started bouncing off every surface of the room again, except for his face. “I’ve been very stupid,” she said, the four words striking him like a regretful confession.
“Have you?” he asked after a pause. “Or has he?”
“He has,” she agreed. “But I was naïve enough to believe his act. I came to Los Angeles from New York during a break from work to visit Liza. I thought I’d surprise Tommy. I surprised him, all right,” she added bitterly under her breath. “He clearly hadn’t been expecting me to walk in while he was entertaining another woman in bed two nights ago. I hadn’t realized how convenient this long-distance romance was for him.” Her eyes sprang wide as if she was shocked she’d blurted something so intimate to a stranger. “I’m making it sound a lot more melodramatic than it was,” she assured him. “We hadn’t been seeing each other long or anything. We weren’t serious. Obviously, it was no great loss.”
“We’re all young once,” he said quietly. “It’s not a crime.”
She gave him a lopsided grin, her gaze slowly moving over his face. He was struck by the focus of her observation. Her smile turned fascinated . . . a little . . . fey. He felt his muscles tighten under that enigmatic perusal.
“Forgive me for saying so,” she said softly. “But I can’t imagine you ever seeming young and stupid.”
“I was. Trust me.” He frowned as a thought occurred to him. “So I’m Liza’s ancient employer, is that it?”
She laughed. “God, no. I didn’t mean that at all. It’s just Liza respects you so much—so does every member of your staff I’ve met here tonight—and everyone knows about your success in the film business. You’d been nominated for two Academy Awards before you even turned thirty.”
“And never won once by thirty-two,” he replied wryly.