Lexie looked at him blankly. ‘Clothes?’
‘For the weekend...for future events.’
Suddenly Lexie realised what he meant, and immediately chafed at the implication that he had to buy clothes for her because she wasn’t as classy or elegant as his other lovers. And she hated that she’d thought that.
Stiffly she said, ‘You really don’t need to do that.’ Lexie knew she was out of his league; she didn’t need a reminder.
Cesar was obdurate. ‘Well, it’s too late. They’ve been delivered to your suite.’
Lexie opened her mouth again, but Cesar put up a hand.
‘If you don’t want to use them, that’s fine. See what’s there and decide. It’s no big deal.’
No, thought Lexie churlishly, because all it had taken was a mere snap of his fingers. She looked at him suspiciously. ‘How did you know what size I was?’ She immediately regretted asking the question when his gaze swept up and down her body. What he could see of it...
‘I asked the costume designer, just to be safe, but my own estimation wasn’t far off.’
Lexie burned with indignation and something much hotter to imagine Cesar guessing her vital statistics.
Just then a PA came close and hovered. When Lexie looked at her she made a signal that she was required. Lexie looked back at Cesar and said, with evident relief, ‘I have to go. They’re ready to shoot again.’
But he didn’t get out of the way. And Lexie knew she wasn’t supposed to step onto the manicured lawn.
She was about to open her mouth when he moved closer and put a hand around the back of her bare neck, exposed because her hair was up in a complicated chignon. He bent down and pressed a fleeting but hot kiss to her mouth, and then pulled back, letting her go.
Lexie tingled all over. Her head felt fuzzy. ‘What was that for?’
Cesar smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, and Lexie felt something tug inside her, wondering again what he’d look like if he really smiled.
‘As you so memorably pointed out, there are camera phones around. I’m just being vigilant.’
Lexie flushed to recall what she’d said to him. There was nothing remotely fossil-like about this man. He was all bristling, virile energy.
Faintly she said, ‘Celeste will have to retouch my lipstick.’
He smirked. ‘Well, you’d better run along and let Celeste do that.’
For a second Lexie blinked at him. There was a tantalising glimmer of something lighter between them. But then he was turning and striding back the way he’d come, and as Lexie walked over to the main hub of the set she couldn’t be unaware of several appreciative female and male glances that lingered in his direction and then on her with undisguised envy.
* * *
Cesar was waiting for Lexie in the main castillo drawing room three days later. Looking back on the last tumultuous week, he did not relish the twisting and turning of events since he’d taken one look at that woman and his brains had migrated to his pants.
Cesar was renowned for lots of things: his inestimable wealth; philanthropy; scarily incisive business acumen; a zealous desire for privacy; success. And control. Above all control over his emotions. He’d become a master of controlling them from a young age. Too young.
His usual choice of woman was tall and brunette. Elegant. Classic. Not blonde, petite and curvy, with blue eyes big enough to drown in. And with a dubious reputation splashed across the tabloids.
On some level he’d always sought to stay away from prying eyes, as if somehow they might see something in him that he couldn’t articulate himself. A darkness that had clung to him for a long time. The stench of abandonment. The cruelty of neglect and a lack of care. It had been like an invisible stain on his skin.
Yet for someone who had spent his life largely on the periphery of the media glare, largely due to his very non-scandalous social life, the prospect of suddenly being thrust front and centre was not having the effect he might have expected.
Of course he didn’t relish the idea. But at the same time it didn’t fill him with repugnance.
Cesar poured himself a drink and smiled grimly. Right now though, all those concerns were receding and being replaced by something else. Someone else. Lexie Anderson. Cesar had been due to go to North Africa that week, to attend a meeting about aid, but had cancelled it on the flimsy pretext of wanting to make sure that the first week of filming went smoothly.
Cesar would be the first to admit that he had dismissed the film industry as flaky and narcissistic, but just one week had proved him wrong. The crew were tireless and worked twelve-and thirteen-hour days—if not longer. He was also surprised by how quickly and well they worked as a cohesive unit.
The producer had explained that most of them had worked together before, but there were lots of inexperienced locals in the mix and Cesar had witnessed more than one incident of a more experienced crew member patiently showing someone the ropes.