Dirty Movies by Cate Andrews Read Free Book Online

things and kicked up such a fuss when he didn’t have oodles of spares stuffed into the lining of his enormous jackets.
    ‘Darling listen ,’ began Janie urgently. ‘Bella’s bailed and I don’t have time to hire someone new. We need you to fly out to Morocco as Stephen’s location runner for the next few months….Polly? Polly? Did you hear what I said?’
    There was a strangled squawk.
    ‘Good girl,’ said Janie interpreting the squawk as a positive. ‘Now i’ve pencilled you on the 5:15 flight this afternoon. Are you ok to get to Heathrow yourself or do you need a taxi?’
    ‘This afternoon??’ gasped Polly, crashing back down to earth. ‘Are you serious?’
    ‘Of course I’m serious,’ snapped Janie. ‘You must be there for when Stephen arrives.’
    Polly surveyed her bedroom in a panic. Where was her suitcase? Where the HELL was her suitcase? Hang on, did she even own a suitcase?
    ‘So, shall I book you a taxi or not? I’m sorry to rush you , Polly, but I’ve eighteen cast medicals to book, the main budget to revise and a hysterical actress who’s convinced she’s going to catch Malaria from the hotel catering.’
    ‘I’ll make my own way ,’ mumbled Polly. Hopefully, Lucy’s Vauxhall would make it down the M25 without blowing up on the hard shoulder. 
    ‘Good. That’s one less thing I have to worry about. I’ll give Joe a call and let him know what flight you’re arriving on. He’s holding the fort until Rachel and Gillian arrive later on today. He’ll send someone out to pick you up.’
    ‘Thanks Janie , but how will I know who to look for? Will the driver have a name board or…?’
    ‘I’ll confirm the tickets and text you the E-Ticket reference ,’ interrupted Janie. ‘You’ll be connecting with a flight down to a place called Erizo when you reach Casablanca. It’s a small town on the edge of the Sahara. Have a safe trip and good luck.’
    There was a click and she was gone. 
     
    Once on the ground, Polly and her gravy-soaked jeans had to endure an undignified scrum at Erizo Airport’s doll-sized, creaky and overladen luggage carousel.
    Nursing a bruised shoulder and a throbbing toe where some merciless git had rammed her with his trolley, she hauled Lucy’s suitcase into the arrivals hall and scanned the crowds for someone, anyone, who might resemble a production driver. Like a magnet, her eyes kept returning to a faintly familiar-looking man with scruffy brow n curls lounging next to a taxicab booth. He was wearing dark blue combat shorts and an off white T-shirt, a uniform more suited to the parks of England than the heart of North Africa, and his pale pallor was a marked contrast to the rest of the crowd. He also happened to be the most attractive man she had ever seen.
    To her horror he suddenly looked over and started waving in her direction. Without thinking , Polly dived down behind a passing baggage trolley. She was just plucking up the courage to peer over a mountain of blue tartan shoppers, when a warm hand touched her shoulder. Spinning round she found herself gazing up at the very same man she had been admiring.
    ‘ Hi. Are you Polly Winters?’ he said, smiling down at her.
    ‘Who’s asking?’ she mumbled, looking faintly bewildered and hugely embarrassed all at the same time.
    ‘Joe De Vries ,’ he said, hauling her to her feet. ‘As the rest of the gang are busy drinking themselves stupid in the hotel bar, I thought I’d swing by and pick you up myself. Can’t leave our precious runners stranded in airports now, can we?’
    ‘But I was told to expect a production driver ,’ countered Polly, feebly.
    ‘Then you’re in for a disappointing evening. Of course if you’d rather stay here …?’
    As if, tho ught Polly. Joe was even better looking close-up.
    ‘C’mon , sweetheart,’ he laughed, bending down to retrieve her case. ‘My jeep’s parked out front. If we get a move on, we’ll be back at the hotel sipping a beer within the