The Talk of Hollywood by Carole Mortimer Read Free Book Online Page A

be the one to tell you—but so far today you’ve failed. Miserably!’ Jaxon bit out.
    Stazy eyed him coolly. ‘Being polite doesn’t mean I have to be insincere.’
    ‘If you wouldn’t mind …?’ He began to unzip those body-moulding leathers. ‘I would like to take my shower now.’ He arched mocking brows.
    Stazy had no doubt that Jaxon’s challenging attitude now was in return for her earlier scathing comments about ‘the much-published Wilder charm’. But as he continued to move that zip further and further down his hard muscled chest she knew it was a challenge she simply didn’t have the sophistication—or the experience!—to meet.
    ‘Come downstairs when you’re ready and I’ll show you the library where we’re to work,’ she said stiltedly, before turning sharply on her booted heels and hurrying over to the doorway.
    Totally aware of the sound of Jaxon’s throaty laughter behind her.
    ‘Where do you want to start?’
    ‘I have absolutely no idea.’ Jaxon looked down in some dismay at the copious amount of documents and notebooks Geoffrey Bromley had left neatly stacked on the desktop in the library for him to look through.
    Jaxon wasn’t sure he would be able to get through them all in just the week Stazy had agreed to give him.
    The library itself was full of floor to ceiling mahogany bookcases stacked mainly with leather-bound books, although some of the shelves near the door seemed to be full of more modern hardbacks that he might like to explore another time.
    Jaxon felt somewhat refreshed after a long cold shower and a change of clothes, and thankfully had succeeded in dissipating the last of his erection as well as washing off the travel dust.
    The erection was something—despite their sharp exchange in his suite earlier—that was guaranteed not to stay away for very long if Stazy was going to continue bending over the desk in that provocative way, her denims clearly outlining the perfect curve of her bottom.
    ‘Maybe we should just sort them out year by year today, and start looking through them properly tomorrow?’ he prompted tersely.
    ‘Sounds logical.’ Stazy nodded.
    Jaxon regarded her through narrowed lids. ‘And are you big on logic?’
    She looked irritated by the implied criticism. ‘I’ve always found it’s the best way to approach most situations, yes.’
    ‘Hmm.’ He nodded. ‘The problem with logic is that it leaves no room for emotion.’
    ‘Which is precisely the point,’ Stazy reasoned shortly.
    No doubt—but Jaxon didn’t work that way. ‘Are these Anastasia’s diaries?’ He ran awed fingers lightly over a pile of a dozen small notebooks.
    ‘They certainly look like them, yes …’ Stazy frowned down at them as if they were a bomb about to go off.
    He glanced up as he sensed her tension. ‘You didn’t know there were diaries?’
    She gave a pained wince. ‘No.’
    Jaxon breathed deeply. ‘Stazy, as much as you may choose not to think so, I
do
appreciate that none of this can be easy for you—’
    Those green eyes flashed in warning. ‘I doubt you have any idea how much I hate doing this!’
    ‘Obviously Anastasia was your grandmother, and you only knew her during her latter years, but—’
    ‘But even then she would still have known exactly how to deal with someone like
you!’
Stazy assured him dismissively. Even that red-gold hair seemed to crackle with her repressed anger.
    ‘Like me?’ he said softly.
    ‘You know exactly what I mean!’
    ‘I do,’ he acknowledged, with that same deceptive mildness. ‘I’d just like to hear you say it,’ he added challengingly.
    She glared her frustration. ‘Jaxon, you’ve known from the first that nothing is going to make me like you
or
your damned film!’
    ‘Nothing …?’
    Stazy stilled as she looked up at him guardedly. The darkness of that overlong hair was still damp and slightly tousled from his shower. His jaw was freshly shaven, and he had changed out of the black leathers into a