Kitabı oku: «The Hudson's: Luc, Jack and Charlotte»

The Hudsons: Luc, Jack and Charlotte
Blackmailed into a Fake Engagement
Leanne Banks
Tempted into the Tycoon’s Trap
Emily McKay
Transformed into the Frenchman’s Mistress
Barbara Dunlop

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Blackmailed into a Fake Engagement

About the Author

LEANNE BANKS is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author who is surprised every time she realizes how many books she has written. Leanne loves chocolate, the beach and new adventures. To name a few, Leanne has ridden on an elephant, stood on an ostrich egg (no, it didn’t break), gone parasailing and indoor skydiving. Leanne loves writing romance because she believes in the power and magic of love. she lives in Virginia with her family and her four-and-a-half-pound pomeranian named Bijou.

This book is dedicated to all the readers and lovers of Mills & Boon and Desire^™.

Prologue

“I bet my Ferrari,” Devlin Hudson said to Luc in a room filled with cigar smoke, brotherly rivalries and the aroma of expensive alcohol.

“You sold your Ferrari,” Luc said, calmly arranging the cards in his hand. “I bet my twenty-five-year-old scotch.”

“Technicality,” Devlin said, clamping his mouth over the cigar. “Check.”

“Your cards must smell like your feet,” Luc said.

Max Hudson took a swallow of his scotch. “I’m holding.”

Jack Hudson, their cousin, swore. “He’s not saying much. That means he’s got a killer hand.”

Jack was an excellent judge of character, but Luc knew that Max could bluff with the best of them, even if he did it quietly. “That’s what he wants you to believe.”

Max slid Luc a sideways glance. “Your PR psychology has gone to your head.”

“You wish,” Luc said. “I see the dirty underbelly, and I usually know when someone is taking me for a ride.”

Jack looked from Luc to Max. “I’ll see your scotch and add my Patrón,” he said.

“You’re toast,” Luc said.

“Shut up,” Max said.

Devlin just growled.

Luc’s cell phone rang, interrupting the game.

“Oh, no. Is this another of your young girlfriends?” Jack asked.

“He always goes for the young ones,” Max said in agreement.

“The older ones know better,” Dev added.

“Luc Hudson,” he said into the phone.

“This is Officer Walker with the L.A.P.D. I’m calling on behalf of Miss Nicki McCord. She’s being charged with driving under the influence and asked that we call you.” The man cleared his throat. “She’s not in the best shape at the moment.”

Luc rose to his feet. “Where are you taking her?”

The officer gave the location. “Sir, she was driving the wrong way down a one-way street and narrowly missed hitting a family returning from a trip to Disneyland.”

Luc raked his hand through his hair and shook his head. “I’ll be there as soon as possible,” he said and turned off the phone. “Sorry. Nicki McCord. I have to go.”

“DUI, right?” Devlin said.

Luc nodded.

“Damn,” Max said. “What are we going to do about the prepublicity for The Waiting Room? Nicki was supposed to start the PR jaunt next week.”

“If only you were dealing with her sister Gwen instead,” Jack said. “I hear she was a complete professional.”

“Except when she left her ex-husband high and dry during their last movie,” Devlin said.

“With Peter Horrigan, you don’t know how much of that was spin or not.”

Luc felt his mood turn grim. “I’m going to have to do some spinning of my own.”

“You’re the family problem solver,” Devlin said. “Go do what you do best.”

One

“I’m Luc Hudson. There’s been an emergency with your sister, Nicki.”

Gwen McCord’s heart plunged into her stomach as she looked at the tall, handsome man with the watchful blue eyes standing on her front porch. She barely noticed her yellow Lab’s barks over the panic racing through her. “Is she okay? Is she—” The worst possible thought stole the rest of her words and breath.

“She’s alive,” he said and nodded toward the door. “May I come in?”

“Yes, of course,” Gwen said, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear, stepping aside and pulling June, her dog, away from the doorway. Lost in her concern for Nicki, some part of her noticed the man’s height and broad shoulders as he passed by her. He smelled of rich leather and just a hint of a spicy male scent. She glanced past him, spotting the SUV he’d driven to her ranch. For a member of one of Hollywood’s most powerful families, the Hudsons, to make a personal visit to her in Montana, something terrible must have happened.

Gwen’s stomach clenched in fear. “Please go ahead and tell me. Is she in the hospital?”

“No, we put her in rehab,” Luc said, resting his hands on his hips. “She was arrested for driving drunk. Driving the wrong way on a one-way street. The police clocked her speeding thirty miles over the speed limit. She narrowly missed a head-on collision with a family of four returning from Disneyland.”

“Oh my God,” Gwen said, feeling her blood drop to her feet. A sick dizziness rolled over her, and she felt her knees dip. Luc’s strong arms caught her, drawing her against his hard chest.

His eyes searched hers. “Do you need to sit down?”

She nodded. “I think so,” she said as he guided her toward the overstuffed sofa in the sitting area at the front of her ranch cabin.

“Where’s the kitchen? I’ll get some water for you,” he said.

“Straight down the hallway,” she said, resting her head in her hands, castigating herself. If only she could have made Nicki listen! She’d repeatedly begged Nicki to get out of the fast lane, but Nicki had ignored her. Her younger sister had been determined to make a name for herself one way or another, and lately there’d been much more attention paid to Nicki’s partying than to her acting abilities.

Luc returned with a glass of water and shook his head when she started to rise. “You’re still pale,” he said.

She took a sip of water and inhaled a shallow breath. “I should go to her.”

“You can’t,” he said. “No one is allowed to see her during the detox phase.”

She stared at him. “Not even a family member?”

“No one,” he said. “It was a condition of getting her into this rehabilitation center. It has an excellent success rate.”

Unable to sit any longer, Gwen rose to her feet. “I tried to get her to stop. I was able to persuade her to come out to the ranch for a few days. I hoped the fresh air and peace and just being away from the party scene would help. But her friends were always calling and sending her text messages. She got antsy and left early. I made her promise she would be more careful.”

“She’ll get the help she needs now.”

Gwen fought the tears that filled her eyes. “I feel like such a failure. I should have—”

Luc put his hand over her shoulder. “She’s an adult, free to make her own choices, right or wrong. You couldn’t control her.”

Intellectually, she knew he was right. She would have said the same thing to someone else in these circumstances, but it didn’t stop the combination of guilt and helplessness gnawing at her.

Taking a deep breath, she felt a rush of gratitude for the Hudsons. They had gotten her sister to a safe place. “Thank you so much for taking care of her. I would have liked to have been the one to have been there for her, but at least she’s getting help. It could have turned out so much worse.”

He replied with a slow nod and gave her a long considering glance. “Everyone wants Nicki to get better. The problem is that this has happened at a critical time for Hudson Pictures. Nicki was supposed to be preparing to do promotion for The Waiting Room. Her stint in rehab could damage the way this movie is perceived by the press and the public.”

Gwen remembered the PR routine from her years of acting. Although she’d left a promising acting career and Hollywood behind, she would have to have had amnesia to forget the promotional sprint required for movies—interviews with magazines, entertainment and news shows, public appearances.

“That is difficult,” she acknowledged, then shrugged. “But with Nicki in rehab, there’s really nothing that can be done.”

Luc met her gaze with a resolution that made her uneasy. “I disagree,” he said in a velvet voice with an underlay of steel. “In this case, the press needs a distraction. After taking care of Nicki last night, we held an emergency meeting and came up with a solution.”

Gwen shrugged again, not sure why she needed to know this information. Her concern was Nicki, not Hudson Pictures. “I’m glad.”

His lips rose in a crooked grin of irony. “We’ll see.” His amusement faded as quickly as a flash. “In order to keep the focus off Nicki, an announcement was made to the press last night. The announcement was that you and I are engaged.”

Shock slammed through her. Gwen stared at him in disbelief. She blinked, shaking her head. She couldn’t have heard him correctly. “Excuse me?”

“As far as the press is concerned, you and I are engaged to be married.”

Gwen shook her head faster. “Oh, absolutely not. I don’t even know you. I don’t want to know you,” she added to underscore her refusal. “Part of the reason I left Hollywood was to get away from the public relations racket that never stopped. No—”

“It’s already done,” he said in a firm voice. “If you don’t want your sister’s reputation to go down the toilet, then you’ll cooperate.”

The coolness in his voice dug at her. She took a second look into his eyes and glimpsed a ruthlessness that made her shudder. “This almost sounds like blackmail,” she said.

“Call it what you want,” he said. “I’m good, but I can’t perform miracles. Your sister has made a huge mess, and someone’s got to clean it up. Allowing The Waiting Room to tank because of her lack of maturity and discipline isn’t going to help anyone, including her.”

Gwen couldn’t fight the urge to defend her sister. “You know nothing about the hurt Nicki has gone through. When my parents divorced it was at a very critical time for her, and she might as well have been orphaned for all the attention they gave her. She’s been struggling with the damage ever since.”

“That’s what therapy is for,” Luc said. “No one’s life is perfect. At some point you have to grow up and take responsibility for who you are and what you want. Nicki is overdue.”

Even if there was a bit of truth to his words, Gwen couldn’t forgive his lack of compassion. “Easy for you to say that no one’s life is perfect. I suspect yours has been pretty damn close. The perfect powerful Hudsons.”

He shot her a wry smile. “The reason you think we’re perfect and powerful is because I’ve done my job with the press. Just as I’m now doing my job for this movie and your sister.”

Her sister was an afterthought, of course. His attitude infuriated her. “Nice try, but I can’t believe it will work. I can’t imagine that anyone would be interested in me anymore,” she said. “I’m no longer in the Hollywood scene. As far as the paparazzi are concerned, I lead a quiet, boring life rescuing horses on my uncle’s ranch. And that’s they way I intend to keep it.”

“Again, that’s where you’re wrong. You were a darling. Women wanted your combination of beauty and strength. Men just wanted you. Your last film came out a year ago, and when the DVD comes out in two weeks, it’s projected to be a top seller.”

Gwen swore under her breath. “So in PR terms, I’m one of the flavors of the moment,” she said and felt the prospect of participating in Luc’s scheme tighten around her like a straitjacket. “It still won’t work. I have the ranch.”

“The plan is for me to stay here at the ranch for a while. Then we’ll make a big public splash in L.A. in a few weeks.”

Her stomach turned. “I cannot fathom pretending to be your adoring fiancée for three seconds.”

“You won a Golden Globe and were nominated for an Oscar. This will be cake.”

“Cake,” she echoed in disbelief. “I might as well be engaged to the devil. I was married to a man who only wanted me for—” She broke off. The memory of all that had taken place between her and her husband was still too painful. “I can’t pretend that way again.”

“You can for your sister,” he countered.

Gwen stomped to the front closet and grabbed her boots. She felt so trapped, so impotent that she could scream. This would be a fine time to muck out the stalls. Heaven knew, she needed to work off some of her extra energy threatening to erupt any second. She kicked off her shoes and shoved her feet into the boots, trying to ignore the tall, imposing figure of Luc Hudson standing three feet away from her.

“Where do you want me to stay while I’m here? You have a guest room?”

A few searing, scathing responses kicked through her brain about exactly where she would like Luc to go, but she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying them.

He gave a wry chuckle. “I realize you’d prefer I stay in the barn,” he said.

“Oh, no. I wouldn’t want to punish the horses,” she said. “Go down the hallway and take the second door on the right. It has a brass bed and a sheepskin rug on the floor beside it. You can have that room,” she said and left the house with a small sense of satisfaction. Although putting Luc in that bedroom meant he would be sleeping next door to her, entirely too close for her comfort, she loved the idea that he would be living in a pink room for the time he was here. She’d decorated the room with Nicki in mind, so the walls were pink, the balloon shades fashioned from a French floral sateen of pink and blue that matched the floral quilt on the bed. A lace bedskirt coordinated with lace pillows on the bed and a cozy pastel blue upholstered rocker sat beside the bed.

All that pink would drive Luc, a man dripping with masculinity, out of his mind. And if she were lucky, out of her house and life.

Luc carried his suitcase into his assigned room and surveyed his new digs. He wiped his hand over his eyes and face. The girly room was a far cry from the clean, cool lines of his contemporary home decorated in black and white. Glancing at the puffy window treatments, he felt his skin begin to itch as if he were having an allergic reaction.

How was he supposed to get any work done in this room? The dresser was covered with girly knickknacks. Luc couldn’t stand clutter. His job was to fix the clutter and chaos that other people created. That was the reason he was here.

His mind wandered to the woman who would help him carry off the charade. She was even more potent in person than she’d been onscreen. With each change of emotion, her expressive eyes and face grabbed and held his attention. Luc was good at reading people within the first thirty seconds of a personal meeting, but Gwen was too complex.

It hadn’t been necessary to read her dossier. Her history had been splashed on every magazine and newspaper. Rumors had swirled that her affair with a costar had caused the demise of her high-profile marriage to one of Hollywood’s top producers. Then she’d disappeared.

Her beauty and talent obviously had not disappeared. Neither had the simmering sensuality that boiled beneath her composed surface. If Luc hadn’t learned his lesson about getting involved with actresses, he would be tempted to learn Gwen’s secrets in and out of bed, but he knew better.

His cell phone rang, and he immediately identified the ring that belonged to his brother Max. “Hey, I made it.”

“I decided I should check, since I hadn’t heard from you.”

“It took me longer than I expected to rent the SUV. Gwen’s ranch is dead center in the middle of nowhere. You can tell she wanted to leave the ‘City of Angels’ far behind.”

“How did she respond to the news?”

“Depends on which news,” Luc said, moving closer to the window and studying how to disconnect the curtains. “She was upset about Nicki, wanted to go see her.”

“You nixed that,” his brother said.

“Yeah.”

“And how did the lovely lady feel about your impending nuptials?” his brother cracked.

Luc frowned and shook his head. “The things I do for the family business. Let’s just put it this way—I’m glad she didn’t have any sharp instruments close by when I told her.”

Max gave a low chuckle. “You mean she wasn’t dying to get involved with one of the town’s most sought-after bachelors?”

“You’re having a little too much fun with this.”

“Maybe you could have some fun too if you play your cards right. Gwen McCord was damn hot. Didn’t she make the sexiest females list of some magazine years ago?”

Several magazines. Luc recalled one particularly memorable shot of her from one of her movies where she was dressed in a man’s unbuttoned shirt and nothing else. The photograph had exposed a generous amount of creamy cleavage, hinted at dusky nipples beneath and revealed shapely legs that went on forever. The tip of her tongue touching her upper lip and long bangs covering one of her eyes was the stuff to fuel the fantasies of millions of men young and old. Luc pushed the arousing image from his mind. “The only way Gwen is hot right now is how furious she is with me and the Hudsons.”

“Oh, she’s lost her looks already?”

“No,” Luc said in exasperation. “She’s still beautiful, but she’s angry that she’s been forced into this engagement.”

“She ought to be grateful we got her crazy sister in rehab so quickly,” Max said.

“She is. She just doesn’t want to be dragged into the public eye again.” Opening the closet door, he found it mostly empty. Relief oozed through him. Thank God. He could stuff the knickknacks and lacy crap in there.

“You think she’ll go along with it?” his brother asked.

“She doesn’t have a choice. That’s why she’s so pissed,” Luc said. “Her frustration isn’t important as long as she cooperates.”

“I’ve heard that take-no-prisoners tone from you before,” Max said. “I don’t know whether to feel sorry for you or her.”

“I don’t need any pity,” Luc said, glancing at the pink walls and grinding his teeth. “I can take care of myself.”

After Gwen mucked out the stalls and fed the horses, she returned to the house, still bothered, but under control. She temporarily left her boots at the front door and made her way toward her bedroom. The smell of something delicious wafted from the kitchen. The door to the room where Luc Hudson would be sleeping was open. When she glanced inside, she nearly got whiplash.

Luc sat in the blue chair working on his laptop, but the curtains were gone, along with all the pillows, the collection of figurines and porcelain jewelry boxes and every picture on the wall. A dark comforter she suspected he’d found in the hall linen closet covered the bed. The windows were bare.

She stepped inside. “Where are—”

“In the closet,” he said before she could finish. He stood. “I did some temporary redecorating. I’ll put it all back before I leave. Although the furnishings were—” he paused a half beat “—lovely, they were distracting. I have to be able to concentrate on my work.”

She glanced at the bare windows and nodded. “Okay,” she said. He would be waking up at the crack of dawn, but that wasn’t her problem. “No problem. “What do I sme—”

“My chef prepared a couple of meals before I left,” Luc said. “When I told her I was leaving for Montana, she was convinced I was going to be stuck in the wilderness in a blizzard.” He glanced outside the window at the falling snow. “She was half-right. Are you hungry?”

Her instinct was to say no. After all, she didn’t want him here. He was uninvited and he was interrupting the peaceful world she’d worked so hard to build for herself. Her stomach rumbled silently, and Gwen decided it didn’t have to mean anything if she ate some of his food. Otherwise she would be facing her own cooking, which left a lot to be desired.

“A little,” she conceded.

“You’re welcome to it,” he said. “Roast chicken and some vegetables. And homemade bread,” he added in a warning tone. “No woman in L.A. will touch bread.”

Homemade bread. Gwen tried to conceal her excitement as her feet moved of their own accord to the kitchen. “I’m not in L.A.,” she said, hearing him follow her. She saw a box with handles on the counter. “They let you bring that on the plane?” she asked.

“I chartered a jet,” he said.

“Oh, right,” Gwen said, remembering the occasional times when she’d also flown on a chartered flight. Those days were over since she’d left her film career behind. She rarely regretted the loss of the perks from her glamorous career. One exception was the service of a chef. Cooking had never been her forte.

She glanced inside the box and inhaled the scent of fresh bread. Heaven. She reluctantly met Luc’s gaze. “You’re sure you don’t mind sharing?”

“Not at all,” he said, amusement tugging at his sensual mouth. “I would have never dreamed you’d be so enthusiastic about carbs.”

She shouldn’t like him. He was powerful, oozed confidence and probably always got his way. She couldn’t help smiling in commiseration. “One of the top-ten wonderful things about leaving Hollywood is being able to indulge myself with forbidden foods more often. Thank you,” she said and took a bite of the fresh bread.

He pulled some containers from the refrigerator. “I noticed your refrigerator’s bare except for frozen dinners. Where’s your staff?”

“My uncle, who owns the ranch, offered to share his housekeeper with me, but I don’t want to cause any extra expense during the transition phase,” she said and put the food on a plate, then placed it into the microwave.

“So my chef wasn’t far off the mark,” he said, resting his hands on his hips.

“My focus right now is getting up to speed on managing the rescue operations of the ranch. I eventually want to add a summer camp for disadvantaged children. Cooking for myself isn’t a big priority. If you’re concerned about food, you can always stay in town. There’s a diner and fast-food restaurant, a motel and—”

He shook his head. “You and I have to be together in order to sell the story.”

The microwave alarm dinged and Gwen removed the food. Her mouth watered in anticipation. Just as she pulled a knife and fork from a drawer, her cell phone rang. Glancing at the Caller ID, she immediately picked up. “Hello?”

“Gwen, this is Robert Williams with the fire department. We have a report of a mare stuck in an icy pond on the McAllister property. If we can get her out alive, do you want to rescue her?”

The image of the trapped horse flashed through her mind, and her heart tightened. “She doesn’t belong to any of the ranchers who live close by?”

“No. They’re pretty sure she’s wild.”

“Wow,” Gwen said, adrenaline rushing through her veins. “Yes. I’ll call Dennis and the vet and bring over the trailer. Thanks.” She pushed the off button and speed-dialed Dennis, the operations manager for the entire ranch, but it went straight to voice mail. “Darn,” she muttered, remembering that Dennis had taken his wife into town to celebrate their anniversary. He’d probably turned off his cell.

“What’s wrong?” Luc asked.

“I need to go pick up a horse for rescue. Dennis usually goes with me.”

“I can help you,” he said.

She shot him a look of disbelief. “This is a wild horse. If the fire department can get her out of the freezing pond, she still may not be cooperative.”

“A close friend of my parents owns a ranch. I spent summers there when I was a kid and teenager. I worked with the trainer when he broke a couple wild ponies.”

“Really?” she said, surprised. As one of the privileged Hudsons, Luc struck her as the kind of man who would demand and receive only the best and most cutting-edge conveniences in his life. She would have bet money that the only physical challenges he faced were conducted in a temperature-controlled gym…or perhaps the bedroom. She immediately pushed that thought aside. Where had it come from anyway?

“Yes, really. Shouldn’t we be going?” he asked. “I’ll grab my coat, hat and gloves.”

Rattled by the intensity in his expression, she nodded. Without Dennis around, she would be a fool to reject Luc’s offer of assistance. “Okay,” she said and pulled out plastic wrap to cover the food and put it in the refrigerator.

“Bring that plate with you?” he asked over his shoulder as he walked toward the room where he was staying.

“I can’t eat and drive,” she called after him, but he didn’t appear to be listening.

Less than a minute later, he appeared in the hallway dressed for the outdoors. “I’ll drive. You can navigate in between bites.”

“That truck has a stick shift and an ornery clutch.”

“I can handle it,” he said with a level gaze that let her know he could handle a lot more than she’d suspected he could. He moved his athletic body with a sensual confidence that went deeper than skin, leaving no doubt that he could take care of a woman in every possible way.

Looking at him reminded her that it had been eons since she’d been held by a man, even longer since she’d made love. She’d told herself she didn’t miss having a man in her life. She didn’t miss having someone take her breath away with just a look, someone who could make her heart stop and start just by saying her name. She sure as heck didn’t miss the pain that followed when she made herself vulnerable.

She suspected he was a master seducer and lover, the kind of man to leave a woman begging for more. Gwen resolved not to be that woman.

Two

Within minutes of when Gwen and Luc had arrived at the rescue site, Gwen knew she’d underestimated Luc Hudson. Standing at the edge of the pond with freezing water rising to the tops of his boots, he used a chainsaw to break up the ice that covered most of the pond.

Gwen’s apprehension rose with each passing second. As soon as the chill overtook the mare, the horse would lose a lot of her fight and the job of rescuing her would grow more difficult than ever. Colored chestnut-brown, with a white star on her forehead, the horse was drenched, her eyes wide with fear and distress. She wanted out, but she was afraid of the men.

The men looped a rope over the mare’s head. She fought the rope for a couple of minutes. Since she was wild, she didn’t understand that they were trying to help her. Luc helped spread a tarp over the ice he had pulverized.

When one of the men waded into the water wearing an orange suit and carrying another rope for the horse’s hindquarters, Gwen rushed to grab one of the ropes from the shore.

Luc shook his head. “You don’t need to be out here. Get the trailer ready.”

“The trailer’s ready,” she retorted.

“He has a point,” said Dan, the fireman holding the rope next to her. “This is a job for someone with more upper-body strength.”

Frustration twisted inside her, and she passed the rope to one of the other firemen. “I’ll back the trailer a few feet closer.”

“Good idea,” Dan said. “We’re going to need to get her inside as soon as possible.”

The wind sliced like a vicious whip, and sleet pelted her down jacket like tiny needles of ice. Gwen climbed into the truck and started the engine, then backed up a few feet until she heard one of the men yell. She exited the truck and checked the trailer again.

Luc waved for her to come to him. “Here,” he said, taking a digital camera from his pocket.

“What?” she asked in dismay. “You want me to take pictures?”

“No, I want you to shoot video,” he said. “Stand over there,” he said. “The light will be better.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“No,” he said. “Trust me. You’ll thank me later. Shoot the video. Press this button when I tell you to start.”

“This is ridiculous. I need to be helping that horse the second she gets out of the pond.”

“We’re going to take her straight into the trailer. There’s nothing else you can do. This will be great PR for your cause.”

She tasted the bitter flavor of cynicism in the back of her throat. “PR,” she said in disgust. “I should have known. You have a one-track mind.”

His eyes turned cold as the ice surrounding them. “PR is what will bring in the donations you need if you’re going to continue to rescue these horses.” He shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Hoo,” the man in the water called. “She’s on the move. This could be it.”

Conflicted by Luc’s comments, Gwen stepped aside, watching the mare thrash toward shore.

“Now,” Luc called and Gwen pushed the button for recording video. With her heart pounding at the mare’s distress, it took everything inside her to focus on the drama unfolding before her.

The mare stumbled and the men struggled to get her back on her feet. Her mouth dipped into the freezing water, and Gwen’s heart stopped.

Luc gently tugged the rope and spoke to the mare in a deep coaxing voice. “C’mon, baby, you can do it. Just a little more. We’re gonna take care of you.”

The mare dipped her mouth into the water again, then lifted it and shook her head. With a surge of energy and a synergy that was nearly mystical, the horse moved forward, Luc pulled and the fireman in the water pushed.

The mare stumbled up the tarp onto land, and Luc and the others immediately led her into the trailer. “You can stop now,” he yelled to Gwen.

Gwen blinked, automatically following his command. She’d been so tense she could barely move. She forced her feet to move toward the trailer. Luc snapped the back of the trailer closed and looked up at her.

His gaze met hers, and she felt a click that reverberated all the way down to her feet. In that instant, she understood what Luc Hudson was about. He would go to the wall for what he considered important. As far as the press was concerned, he would play them like a concert pianist to produce exactly the music he wanted. Power and passion emanated from him.

She fought a breathtaking combination of attraction and terror. Gwen realized she’d never met a man quite like him before.

“Ready?” he said.

Gwen nodded, hoping her strange feelings were like lightning, here for one second and gone the next.

Luc pulled the truck to a stop outside a large barn. Two men rushed outside to greet them.

“Good,” Gwen murmured and glanced at him. “The vet and ranch manager.”

Nodding, Luc got out of the car. Gwen exited from her side at the same time. “Carl, Dennis, this is Luc Hudson. He’s visiting and he helped with the rescue.”

Luc extended his hand to the two men. “I hope you have access to some warmers,” he said.

“Already set up,” Carl said. “I talked to the fire department while you two were in transit. They said you were a big help.”

“Glad to pitch in,” he said.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your anniversary,” Gwen said to Dennis.

The ruddy-faced man smiled and nodded. “Hey, at least we got a meal out.” He winked. “More if I get back early enough.”A thump sounded from the trailer. “This one sounds impatient. We’d better get her inside.”

It required quite a bit of coaxing and maneuvering, but the four of them managed to get the mare into a large stall. She didn’t appear happy with her confinement, but she readily drank the water available for her.

The more Luc studied the horse, the more suspicious he became. He glanced at Gwen, and she looked up at him at the same moment.

“She’s pregnant,” they both said at the same time.

Gwen gave a breathless laugh and blinked, meeting his gaze as if she was curious about him but didn’t want to be.

Her expression made something in his gut tie into a knot. She reminded him a bit of the mare—strong, with a wild streak, but skittish as the day was long.

She looked away. “Carl, do you think the baby will be okay?”

“Give me time to examine her,” the vet said, nudging his shoulder against the horse and talking softly to her.

Luc watched Gwen cross her arms over her chest and bite her lush lip. She was a complex woman, different from any he’d met lately, if ever. When she’d been in the Hollywood scene, her hair color had been a brighter blonde and she’d always looked cool and polished.

Luc liked her current look better. With honey-colored hair, a face scrubbed free of cosmetics and fingernails without polish, she looked warmer, more real. More touchable.

In another circumstance, he would wonder if her curly dark eyelashes were false and if the bright color of her green eyes came courtesy of tinted contact lenses, but he knew better. She was one of the rare actresses whose beauty easily conquered the unforgiving scrutiny of Hi-Def.

Watching her fidget, he moved closer. “What are you going to name her?”

She glanced up at him with a blank expression. “I have no idea.”

“She’s strong. I’d bet on her survival.”

“You would?” she asked, her gaze straying to the mare.

“Sure. Wouldn’t you?”

She looked at him and slowly nodded. “Thank you for helping. I didn’t expect—”

He lifted his hand to cut her off. “My pleasure. Really.”

She narrowed her eyes and studied him for a moment. “I can’t quite figure you out. One minute, I’m sure your defining character quality is operating the PR machine. The next minute…”

He raised his eyebrows. “The next minute?” he prompted.

“The next minute you’re insisting I eat your food or helping to rescue a horse.”

“Trust your first instinct,” he couldn’t resist saying in a dry tone. “I’m completely one-dimensional. A cynical, heartless prick.”

She blinked, surprise widening her eyes for a full moment before she did a double take. Then she shook her head and laughed. “Okay, thanks for the warning.”

“I think she’s gonna be okay,” the vet called from inside the stall. “You’re going to have a tougher time with her when she gets the rest of her strength back, which will be soon, so be prepared.”

Gwen walked closer to the stall. “What about those scrapes from the ice?”

“She didn’t like my cleaning them, but I did it anyway. I was able to give her an antibiotic without her killing me. Her temperature’s close to normal, so that’s good.”

“What about the baby?”

The vet nodded. “So far, so good. Keep the monitor on tonight, and I’ll drop by tomorrow.”

“Thanks for coming out,” Dennis said. “If it’s okay with you, I’m going to head back to my wife. Call my cell if you need me. Otherwise, I’ll be here first thing in the morning.”

“You go on home. I’ll stay here for a while,” Gwen said.

“Okay, g’night,” Dennis said, tipping his head. “Thanks for your help, Luc.”

“You’re welcome,” Luc said.

The two men left and Gwen turned to Luc. “You can go back to the house now. I’ll be okay.”

Luc shrugged. “I’ll stay.”

“It’s really not necessary,” she said. “I don’t need—”

“You never know,” he said. “I came in handy before.”

She gave a reluctant nod. “Okay,” she said and went to the tack room. Luc wandered around the barn, looking at the horses in their stalls and taking in the layout. Inhaling the scents of hay and horseflesh, he was taken back to the summers he’d spent at his father’s friend’s ranch. Not many people knew it, but there’d been a time when Luc had secretly considered becoming a rancher. Before he’d graduated from high school, though, it had become clear that Hudson Pictures would need him.

He moved back to the stall belonging to the pregnant mare and watched Gwen hang a bridle just inside the mare’s stall.

“Good move,” he said. “You want her to get used to the idea of the bridle, so you put it where she can see it and smell it.”

“One of the many things my uncle and Dennis have taught me. Look at how tired she is,” Gwen said in a soft voice. “Her head’s drooping.”

“She’s fighting sleep. It could be days before she really rests. Horses won’t truly rest unless they feel safe, but it’s probably best for her lungs for her to wait awhile anyway.”

She glanced at him in surprise. “That’s more than passing knowledge about horses.”

“I told you I spent several summers on the ranch of a family friend.”

She studied him for a moment. Her curiosity emanated from her like air from a fan. “You’re a Hudson. You’ve got the connections and the background. Why didn’t you go into acting?”

He laughed. “Not my forte and never my secret desire. I’m great in front of the media for fifteen minutes, thirty minutes max.”

“Then what?”

“The real me comes out,” he said.

Her lips curved upward in humor. “How scary is that?”

“Pretty damn scary,” he said.

“Then why did you choose PR?”

“More of a case of it choosing me. Hudson Pictures is bigger than me. I may have played with the idea of doing something else, but I always knew I would be a part of it. Family, heritage, destiny,” he added in a mock melodramatic tone.

“That’s the way I feel about this ranch. About rescuing horses. It’s bigger than me.”

“Making movies wasn’t?” he asked.

“This is real,” she said. “Movies are make-believe.”

He stepped closer to her. “But you have to admit that pictures serve a purpose. They make people laugh when they’re depressed. They entertain and educate.”

“True, but I’m more at peace now than I’ve ever been in my entire life.”

“Some would call it hiding.”

She tossed her head. “Some can call it whatever they want. It’s most important what I call it.” She shot him a sideways glance. “Are you sure you don’t want to go back to the house?”

He laughed at her obvious effort to get rid of him. “I would have thought you were a woman who likes a challenge.”

“Depends whether the challenge is worth my time,” she said in a cool voice as she met his gaze again. Her voice might be cool, but her eyes were hot.

The combination was seductive for Luc. A forbidden image of Gwen, naked and hot in his bed, sliced through his brain. The woman made him curious. He took another tack and nodded toward the mare. “How’s the mom-to-be looking?”

She turned her attention to the horse and sighed. “Resting as well as she can,” she said, weariness creeping into her tone.

“You sound tired. You’ve had a rough day. Why don’t you go back to the house?”

She wrapped her arms around herself. “I’ll fall asleep as soon as I get there and I should stay awake.”

“Don’t you have cameras you can watch from the house?”

“Yes, but—”

“I could watch while you rest,” he said.

“Why would you do that?”

“I’m not as tired as you are. Besides,” he said, shooting her a wicked grin, “what kind of man would I be if I didn’t look after my fiancée?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t remind me. I’d almost forgotten about that.”

“You’ll get reminders soon enough. I wouldn’t be surprised if the paparazzi didn’t show up on your doorstep.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” she said. “I just usually try to bore them with politeness before I tell them I don’t give interviews anymore.”

“That’s a mistake,” he said. “At some point, you’re going to need financial support in order to maintain your rescue operation. You could get a lot of mileage out of your film background.”

“I’m not interested in that kind of mileage,” she said as she took a seat in the chair opposite the mare’s stall. “You can still leave…”

“No. Someone needs to catch you when you fall off that chair,” he said, leaning against the wall.

She raised her chin in mute protest but didn’t engage him further.

Surprisingly enough, the silence was peaceful instead of hostile. The moments passed and Luc drank in the quiet, wondering how long it had been since he’d experienced such a lack of sound. Either his cell was ringing or he was creating the next spin or taking care of the latest crisis.

He drew in a deep breath of the cool air. Hmm. Maybe Gwen had a point. As busy as he’d been today, the atmosphere at the ranch made him feel less cluttered, more calm. Glancing at her to make a comment, he stopped before he swallowed a chuckle at the sight of her with her head rolled back against the wall and her eyes closed, her breath slow and even.

Watching her for the next few moments, he didn’t make a move until her head began to slide downward. He caught her shoulders just as her eyes fluttered open, but he held her right where she was.

She blinked. “What are you doing?”

His gut tightened like a vise. He inhaled her sexy, spicy scent, so at odds with the earthy smell of the barn. Her skin bare of makeup looked as smooth as satin with the slightest bloom of pink in her cheeks. And her mouth, Lord help him. Lush puffy lips the color of roses would haunt his dreams for nights.

“What are you doing?” she repeated, her voice husky.

“Catching you,” he said, flexing his hands. “Catching you before you fall.”

Three

Gwen’s breath stopped in her chest. Excitement whipped through her, shocking her with its intensity. She shook her head and deliberately pushed Luc away. “I’m not falling,” she said and stood, irritated that she felt a little wobbly. “I’m fine,” she said, determined to be exactly that.

Watching her, he slowly rose and nodded. “Good.”

Hating that he seemed to be able to see beneath her skin, she walked to the stall and watched the mare for a few moments. Feeling Luc’s presence just behind her, Gwen glanced at her watch. She would need to rise early in the morning. “I’m going back to the house. Tomorrow will be a busy day.”

“I’ll go with you,” he said and walked beside her as she closed up the barn.

During the last two years, Gwen had spent a lot of time by herself, and that time had been good for her. She’d had the chance to mourn her losses in private. Every once in a while, she’d wished for human companionship but not enough to do anything about it. As for romantic relationships, by the time her divorce from Peter had been final, she’d felt as cold as a frozen lake, and there’d been no thawing.

Snow and sleet pelted her head and shoulders.

“Wicked weather,” Luc said. “How does a California girl stand the cold?”

“I’m not a California girl anymore. I love the snow. There’s nothing like that peaceful quiet after a freshly fallen snow. It’s almost as if the acoustics of the earth change for that bit of time.”

He nodded. “I never thought of it that way, but I guess they do,” he said. “The same way they change during a thunderstorm, or an earthquake. Do you feel the same way about sleet and ice?”

“It’s more dangerous,” she admitted. “But I’m lucky. My uncle installed backup generators for my cabin and the rescue barns.”

“And you don’t ever miss the ocean or warm weather,” he said, his voice full of disbelief. “Especially during winter.”

She pursed her lips together, wanting to refute him, but knowing it was a lie. “Every now and then, I miss the warmth. It’s a trade-off.” She chuckled to herself. “Plus it keeps the paparazzi away. Only a desperate fool is going to show up in this kind of weather to get a photograph of a has-been actress.”

“Has-been,” he echoed, stopping in front of her so that she also was forced to stop. His expression was incredulous. “Is that the way you see yourself? Because you could damn well name your price and part if—”

She shook her head and smiled. “I’m a happy has-been.” His intense gaze seemed to delve inside her as if he could glimpse her secrets. Uneasy, she stepped to the side to move around him, but her foot hit an icy patch and she began to slide. “Damn—”

He caught her and pulled her against his hard chest, making her instantly aware of his strength, stealing her breath away again. She bit her lip. “I’m okay. I don’t need—”

“Maybe not, but I was raised to try to prevent women from falling on the ground. That’s three times today.”

His eyes were full of curiosity and a too-appealing blend of humor and irony. She felt a pop of her own curiosity. A reluctant knight. Who would have thought it? What other secrets lay beneath the Hudson PR exterior?

She pushed away from him. “I’ll tell you a secret. No one’s looking. You could have let me fall on my—self, and no one would have noticed.”

He shrugged. “I would have. Besides, you’ve had a rough day. Your sister, your engagement to me, the horse.”

“You can fix one of those,” she said, growing increasingly uncomfortable with his invasion of her little universe.

“Which one?”

“The engagement. You could make it go away. You could go away.”

He chuckled. “No chance. We’re both stuck for the duration. If you don’t like it, just think of it the same way you do the weather. It’s a trade-off.” He rested his hands on his hips. “So go on to the cabin before I’m struck with a sudden obligation to carry you.”

“God forbid,” Gwen muttered and trudged forward. She would nap in the office tonight so she could watch the monitors of the rescue barn. Every step she took, she heard the crunch of Luc’s boots just behind hers. She heard his breath. Right there behind her, watching her, he was waiting to catch her if necessary. The notion made her stomach turn a flip, a sensation she hadn’t experienced in years. She didn’t like it.

Hours later, she awakened to the sound of a knock at the front door. She sat up in bed, confused, realizing she was still dressed in the same jeans and flannel shirt she’d worn the day before. What? How? She brushed her hair from her eyes, trying to blink away her drowsiness.

Mentally backtracking, she recalled coming into the cabin and settling into the office so she could steal a few naps in between watching the mare from the remote camera feed. How had she ended up in her bed?

Another knock sounded at the door. She heard a low male voice. Luc Hudson, she remembered and pushed her quilt aside. She glanced at the clock and cringed. Seven a.m. She should have been up by five! Dashing to the bathroom, she splashed water on her face and brushed her teeth, then rushed down the hall. She took a turn toward the office.

“Gwen, dear,” Luc called.

She stopped midstep, frowning at the dear. She swung around to look at him. He stood in the doorway backlit and looking wide-eyed and perfectly awake. She tried not to snarl.

A man she’d never seen before craned around him and lifted a camera, taking a half-dozen shots as she stared in surprise. Luc shoved the door closed and strode toward her.

“They’re already here,” he said.

“Who?” she asked, craving a cup or ten of coffee. “And how did I end up—”

“We don’t have time. We’ll have to talk later.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “Put this on,” he said, pulling a jeweler’s box from his pocket and opening it. Lifting the large solitaire with a diamond-studded band, he caught her left hand and pushed the ring onto her finger.

Gwen gaped at the ring, shocked at how well it fit. “How did you know—”

“Pretend you’re madly in love with me,” he said and tugged her toward the front door.

“But what—”

“The paparazzi,” he said and opened the door.

Gwen immediately heard a dozen clicks from the camera. “When did you and Luc Hudson get involved?” another man asked. “And what’s going on with your sister, Nicki?”

Luc slid his arm around her waist. “Gotta give you guys credit. You’re the first. You make it damn hard to keep a relationship private.” He turned toward Gwen and dipped his head. “I think they’ve caught us, sweetheart,” he said and lowered his mouth to hers.

Gwen blinked in surprise at the sensation of his lips on hers. Hearing the click of the camera reminded her of her role, Luc’s adoring fiancée. She deliberately melted against him and lifted her hand to his bicep. His kiss felt both foreign and natural. His body was warm and strong, his hand at her back firm and persuasive. His mouth lingered, catching her off guard, but she recovered, ducking her head into his shoulder.

“So shy. Listen, why don’t you come back later? We can show you the horse we rescued yesterday. She’s pregnant.”

“Gwen’s pregnant?” the reporter asked.

Gwen felt as if she’d been slapped. “No,” she said immediately in a sharp voice. “The horse is pregnant. Not me.”

“Okay,” the reporter said, sounding disappointed. “Let me get a shot of the rock. Everyone likes to see the ring.”

Gwen raised her hand and stared at the unfamiliar ring on her finger.

“Cool, you look like you can’t believe it,” the reporter said.

The man had no idea, Gwen thought and plastered a pleasant expression on her face.

He glanced at Luc. “You’ll let us shoot some film?”

“It’ll make you understand even more why I fell for her.”

The photographer glanced at Gwen. “As if you needed a reason,” he said. “Hollywood misses you, Gwen.”

Gwen smiled, amused by how glamorous she didn’t look with zero makeup, hair that hadn’t been brushed and sleepy eyes. Good thing she didn’t give a rip. “You’re too kind.” She wrapped her hand around Luc’s bicep. “There’s a diner in town if you’re hungry.”

“Okay,” the reporter said. “You promise you won’t go anywhere?”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Luc assured the man.

The reporter nodded. “This is gonna be great. So, I’m Tripp and this is Gordon.” Both men exchanged handshakes with her and Luc. “See you in an hour.”

“Two would be better,” Luc said.

“Okay,” Tripp said reluctantly. “Two hours, but not one minute more.”

The two men ran to their car and exchanged a high five before getting in and leaving. Disgusted, Gwen shut the front door and immediately rounded on Luc. “Why did you invite the paparazzi to hang around and shoot film? I don’t want them on the ranch.”

“They won’t be here that long,” he said. “This is perfect. They won’t be focusing their full attention on us.”

“I don’t want this ranch exploited for the almighty sake of Hudson Pictures. This is a beautiful, peaceful, safe place for the horses and—”

“And for you,” Luc interjected. “A safe place for you to hide from the rest of the world.”

Something inside her twisted. His words were like a hot poker fresh from the fire, stabbing at her most vulnerable point. “You have no right to criticize the life I’ve chosen. You have no right to invite these—” she broke off, her frustration growing by the millisecond “—these parasites onto my uncle’s property just because it serves your purpose. After years of working non-stop, my uncle is finally taking that three-week cruise he deserves. I hate to see his reaction when he returns to this mess. Have you thought about what will happen after this? How many more reporters will show up once our photos hit the rag sheets? And after this charade is over, how am I supposed to handle the reporters who keep showing up, asking for an explanation of why you and I broke up?”

Luc met her gaze with infuriating calm. “You can trust me. I’ll handle this.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve heard that before. Trust me are the two most deadly words in Hollywood.”

“Like you said yesterday, we’re not in Hollywood. I’ve been handling the press for years, Gwen. I can handle them this time, too. If it gets too intense, I’ll bring in some security.”

“Great,” she said, her voice full of sarcasm. “Exactly what I wanted. Security.”

“It’s temporary. And you shouldn’t knock the publicity you’ll get. You’ll get a flood of donations for horse rescue after this airs.”

She sighed, hating that he was right. “I need to get a shower. I don’t know how I ended up in my bed with my clothes still on. Last thing I remembered I was in my office watching the mare on the monitor and—” She stopped, seeing the knowing expression on his face. “Oh, don’t tell me you carried me to bed.”

“I did it for myself. Your head was cradled in your hands. You were going to end up with a helluva neck ache. You’re already difficult enough without anything else added.”

She opened her mouth to retort but couldn’t think of a suitable response. Was she supposed to thank him for his thought fulness or rip him to shreds for daring to touch her while she was asleep? She wasn’t accustomed to having anyone watch over her, especially a man such as Luc Hudson.

“I need to know how long this is going to last,” she said. “And don’t tell me ‘however long it takes.’ You know better. I bet you have this planned down to the minute. How long?”

“Barring complications with your sister, thirty to forty-five days,” he said.

Gwen told herself it was just another shoot. Her last shoot.

Two hours later, Luc watched Gwen engage both the reporter and the photographer as she showed them the rescued pregnant horse. “She’s still skittish and afraid, so you’ll need to keep your distance. Isn’t she a beauty?”

Tripp, the reporter, nodded. “She is. Did you know she was pregnant when you rescued her?”

Gwen shook her head. “We didn’t find out until we moved her back to the ranch. Luc stepped right up and helped the firemen with the rescue.”

“Really?” the reporter said, looking at Luc. “Never knew you were a horse lover.”

“You never asked,” Luc said in a deliberately cryptic voice and slid his arm around Gwen’s waist.

Tripp gave a knowing nod. “Trying to impress your lady.”

“It worked,” Gwen said, playing her role well. “But I was impressed before.”

“How did the two of you get involved?”

“We met at an industry function years ago and were reintroduced when Gwen made a trip to L.A. a few months ago. I wasn’t going to let her get away this time.”

“The commute is rough, though. How do you handle it?”

“I have access to a jet. I can get here just about anytime I want.”

“Any chance you’ll lure her back into the movies?” Gordon asked.

Luc immediately felt Gwen stiffen. “I’m a lot more interested in luring her down the aisle.”

“Have you set a date for the big day?” Tripp asked.

“We just got engaged,” Gwen chided, nestling against Luc and looking up at him with such adoration he could understand every one of her nominations. The woman was damn convincing. “We’ve waited a long time to find each other, and we want to enjoy every minute.” She paused a half beat. “Speaking of minutes, I have that appointment in town this afternoon,” she said. “So, you’ll have to excuse us. I really need to be going.”

The photographer began to click photographs at a machine-gun speed. Gwen rose on tiptoe and skimmed her lush lips over his cheek then slid her mouth next to his ear. “Please get rid of them,” she whispered, then nuzzled him again.

“That will be all,” he said to the reporter and photographer. “Gwen and I have other things we need to do.” He slid his hand down Gwen’s arm to catch her hand. “I know you appreciate getting this exclusive scoop.”

“More than you know, man. More than you know,” Tripp said and extended his hand. “Thanks for working with us. You won’t be sorry. And good luck with the horse, Gwen. What are you going to name her?”

“I hadn’t—”

“Pyrrha,” Luc said, looking at Gwen as she whipped around to meet his gaze.

“Pyrrha?” she echoed.

“Greek mythology. She was a queen.”

“A survivor of the great flood,” she said, her lips curving in a slow but genuine smile as she nodded. He felt a sizzle of connection resonate between them. “I like that.”

Luc heard the rapid-fire click of the camera and felt a surge of annoyance. The media had worn out their welcome. He shook hands with Tripp. “Have a safe trip back to L.A.,” he said and ushered everyone outdoors. He walked Gwen to the cabin.

“Did you manufacture the appointment to get rid of the reporters, or is it real?” he asked.

“It’s real,” she said over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs. “But I was ready for them to leave. In fact, it would have been fine with me if they’d never shown up in the first place.”

“You’ll be glad when you see the donations pouring in for your rescue operation,” he said, wishing he could get a look at her long, lean legs without the benefit of denim covering them.

He closed the door behind them, and she turned to face him. “Why do you care about my rescue operation?”

He shrugged. “It’s a good cause. If you and I are forced into this little charade, you may as well benefit from it.”

She sighed, her eyes full of misgivings. “I just wonder how many donors will be asking for their money back after our so-called engagement is over.”

“We don’t have to give the engagement a dramatic ending. Unlike your—” He broke off when he saw her gaze turn chilly.

“Comments like that are exactly why I hate dealing with the press. If they can’t twist it to suit their purposes, they’ll make something up. Trust me, you know nothing about the reason my marriage broke up.” She glanced at her watch. “I need to go. I don’t want to be late for the kids.”

“Kids,” he echoed.

She raised her hand. “None of your business. You’ve exploited me enough.”

Her accusation jabbed him. He shot out his hand to catch her arm and pulled her back toward him. “Have you forgotten why we’re doing this in the first place?”

She took a deep breath and bit her lip. “Nicki.”

“Yes, Nicki. Do you want the press to crucify her?”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “No. The more I think about it, the more I agree with you. I just find the whole paparazzi thing vile.”

“So, it’s not personal,” he said in a wry voice.

“No,” she said. “It’s not personal. You’re actually—” She broke off and shrugged. “Maybe we should start over. Hi, I’m Gwen McCord. It’s nice to meet you.”

He closed his hand over hers. “My pleasure,” he said, playing along. “I’m Luc Hudson. You’re even more enchanting in person than on the big screen.”

She smiled. “Thank you. You’re more helpful than I would have expected one of the Hudsons to be. I realize neither of us is thrilled with our assignment, but starting now I’ll try not to make it more difficult than it already is. Who knows? By the end of this, we may even be friends.”

Nodding, he lifted her hand to his lips, seeing in her eyes a spark of surprise mixed with something else. “To friendship,” he said, but at that moment he decided they would be more than friends.

Four

Whenever Gwen returned from working with the after-school program in drama therapy, she struggled with a clashing sense of satisfaction and grief. If things had turned out differently, her own child would be in preschool now. Peter had demanded, however, that she finish filming before her pregnancy was visible. He’d been unhappy when she’d told him she was pregnant, even going so far as to suggest that she get an abortion so it wouldn’t interrupt the shooting of his movie.

Gwen remembered that moment as if it had happened yesterday. That was when she’d no longer been able to deny that her relationship with Peter was crumbling.

Standing in the foyer of the cabin, she felt her keys slip through her trembling fingers to the floor. She glanced down at her shaking hands, spotting the engagement ring, and took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Food, she needed food. That was the reason she had the shakes, she told herself. She hadn’t eaten anything since morning.

The sound of Luc’s voice was muffled by the closed guest bedroom door. Relieved he wouldn’t see her in her current state, she picked up her keys, shrugged out of her jacket, hung it in the hall closet and went to the kitchen to scrounge up something to eat.

Soup, she decided, pulling a can from the shelves. And peanut butter and honey sandwiches. Not exactly gourmet, but it would fill her up. She would have to toast the bread because it was frozen.

Trying to think about anything except the baby she’d lost years ago, she heated the soup and made two sandwiches just in case Luc was desperate for nourishment.

Her mind flashed back to that day on the set when she’d fallen. The private emergency room, emergency surgery, Peter insisting on complete privacy and secrecy regarding the loss of her pregnancy. Waking up and feeling empty.

“Smells good,” Luc said just steps behind her.

His voice startled her, and she accidentally touched the hot pan with her fingers. Scalding pain singed her fingers, and she drew back, gasping. “Oh, no,” she said.

Luc swore under his breath. “Put your hand under the water,” he said, pulling her to the sink and plunging her hand under cool running water. “Damn, I didn’t mean to surprise you that much,” he said.

Overwhelmed by the combination of pain from her hand and the comfort of his chest at her back, she shook her head. “It’s not your fault. I was thinking about too many things at once. It’s just a little accident.”

“Does this happen often? Burning yourself while cooking?”

“Why?” she asked. “It’s usually food I burn, not myself.”

He nodded. “You get distracted.”

“Yes. There are more important things than food.”

“That’s why you have so many frozen meals ready for the microwave.”

She grimaced. “Okay, you know my secret. Well, one of them,” she amended. She started to pull her hand away from the faucet. “I think I’m better—”

He shook his head. “No. Keep it submerged for another few minutes. I’ll take care of the soup.”

Gwen glanced over her shoulder at Luc as he removed the pot from the burner and poured soup into the two bowls she’d set on the counter. There was a total sense of unreality to this picture. She would have never imagined seeing one of the powerful Hudsons in her kitchen serving soup.

Luc looked up and met her gaze. “You’re staring. Why?”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t on my calendar to have Luc Hudson in my kitchen this week, or any other week.”

His lips curved in a half grin. “Just lucky, I guess.”

“Which one of us is lucky?” she shot back. “You or me?”

“Excellent point. On the surface, most men would give an arm or leg or both to be in my position.”

“I hear a but coming.”

“Who wouldn’t want to be stuck in a cabin with the sexiest woman of 2004?”

She groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

“Just curious,” he said, his gaze sliding over her sweater. “Do you still have that shirt?”

Feeling his gaze like a touch, she bit her lip. “No, it was just a man’s shirt. Nothing special.”

“Do you know how many men had fantasies about that shirt?”

She felt her cheeks heat. “No, and I don’t want to know.”

“Of course, the fantasies were about removing the shirt,” he continued.

“Which didn’t happen. So you can put that in the unfulfilled-fantasy column.” She turned off the faucet.

“A lot of reality is about unfulfilled fantasy,” he said.

“It can be,” she agreed and glanced at him. “How did you learn that?”

“My position. My brothers call me a PR wizard, but I know the truth. It’s all spin and semantics.” He moved the bowls to the small dining room table and gestured for her to sit.

“Just a minute,” she said and impulsively grabbed a bottle of wine from the refrigerator and scooped a couple of wineglasses from the cabinet. After pulling a corkscrew from a drawer, she brought the sandwiches to the table. She sat down, thinking for a flash of a moment that his gentlemanly manners made her feel more feminine than she had in a long time. “That’s part of the reason I like living here. Not much spin at all. People say what they think. I’ve never felt more at peace.”

He nodded. “How come I haven’t seen a man around to help you enjoy your newfound peace? You must have had some contenders.”

She put the corkscrew on the wine bottle, and he took it from her hands. “Maybe that’s part of the secret to my peace. I could ask you the same question. Isn’t there a woman—” she paused and shot him a sideways glance, unable to conceal a ghost of a smile “—or women back in L.A. who will be devastated by the announcement of your engagement?”

He shot her his version of a sideways glance and shook his head, pulling off the cork and pouring the wine. “I haven’t had a serious relationship in two years. I almost made a big mistake.”

She watched him take a sip. “I bought that wine at the drugstore. The vintage is uncertain at best. But you mentioned mistakes. We all make them. How did you avoid making yours?”

“I don’t run from the truth when it smacks me in the face,” he said, his own face hard with cynicism. “I don’t run from much of anything.”

She could see that his strength was more than skin-deep. The knowledge gave her a shiver of awareness she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. He aroused her curiosity and made her aware of herself as a woman.

“So, how did the ‘almost’ part happen?” she asked, taking a bite of her sandwich and sipping her soup.

“My brothers say I suffer from rescuing-damsel-in-distress syndrome.”

She smiled. “Pregnant horses included?”

He gave a rough chuckle and met her gaze. She felt something sizzle and hum between them and glanced away. Where was this breathless feeling coming from?

“I met a woman whose car had broken down. One thing led to another. We started seeing each other. She was a part-time actress. I introduced her to some people. I was going to propose,” he said. “Until I found out she’d gotten involved on the sly with a producer I’d introduced to her at a party.”

Gwen grimaced. “Sorry. At least you found out before you got married. That’s more than I can say. I was so young and naive, and Peter gave me the big rush. I was pretty unfocused at that point. I’d done a few commercials and some small parts. He was the exact opposite. He knew exactly what he was going to do and how to get there. He seemed to know exactly what I should do, too.”

“You eventually disagreed.”

Gwen thought of her pregnancy and nodded. “He was willing to sacrifice something I couldn’t.”

“Must have been pretty big to turn you off acting, L.A. and men.”

“It was,” she said, but her discomfort drove her to her feet even though she hadn’t finished eating. “Um, do you want some more soup? Another sandwich?”

He circled her wrist with his fingers as she tried to step away from the table, compelling her to look at him. “I’m good, but you need to eat more. Sit down and finish.”

Gwen took a deep breath, exasperated with herself. During her acting days, she had kissed major movie stars. Why did Luc Hudson bother her so much? She sank into her seat and sipped her soup and ate her sandwich, determined to finish as soon as possible.

“When we took Nicki to rehab, she told us not to call her parents. She said to call you instead,” Luc said.

Gwen stopped midbite then swallowed and nodded. “My father moved to Arizona and hasn’t been in touch. My mother remarried and lives in Malibu. She would be upset by the negative publicity. If it isn’t good news, she doesn’t want to hear it.”

“Life doesn’t always give you roses,” he said.

“Even though you can spin it that way,” she said.

“Right,” he said. “Part of the reason I can spin it is because I face the hard facts head on. Our family has dealt with some tragedy. The death of my grandfather is still difficult. He was the heart, breath and soul of Hudson Pictures. We all want to live up to what he created.”

“Tall order?”

“In more than business,” Luc said. “He was the kind of man who could fill up a room with his personality. He had a huge passion for the business, but he also had a huge passion for my grandmother, and it never seemed to wane. He met and secretly married her during World War II in France. He founded the studio to bring her talents to the big screen. In a strange way, I think all of us are striving to find a love that matches what he and my grandmother had. Hell,” he said, “he may be gone, but my grandmother still loves him.”

“That’s an amazing story,” she said.

“Yeah, and if I weren’t so damn cynical, I might believe the same kind of thing could happen to me. Lightning that lasts.”

She nodded, understanding. “Lightning that lasts,” she echoed. “Maybe it’s harder to be cynical when you see someone who actually had that. Then it’s not a myth.”

He reached his hand toward her hair and pushed a strand away from her face. “Yeah.” He gazed into her eyes for a few seconds, which made her lose her breath.

“You have any cards?” he finally asked.

She glanced away so she could think. “Uh, yes, I do.”

“Let’s play,” he said.

“What?”

“Poker. Strip poker if you’re inclined,” he joked in a deep voice.

“In your dreams,” she said, but she had this terrifying but exhilarating sense that Luc Hudson just might have the ability to talk her out of her clothes. “I need to keep an eye on the mare via the camera.”

“The same way you did last night?” he asked, raising a dark eyebrow.

Nice of him to remind her that she’d fallen asleep so soundly that she hadn’t remembered his carrying her to bed. “I’m not as exhausted tonight.”

“You don’t really plan to stay up all night, do you?”

“No, but—”

“We can play in your office. It’ll make the time pass more quickly.”

He made a good point and Gwen liked card games. She had since she was a child. “Okay, but my clothes are staying on.”

“Does that mean you want me to take mine off?”

The mix of humor and sensuality slipped past her defenses and sent a shimmer of awareness all the way through her body. “No,” she said, although an image of Luc, naked, immediately shot through her mind, making her feel singed. “I’ll get the cards.”

“I’ll bring the wine.”

“I’ll fix some coffee,” she countered, thinking the combination of wine and Luc Hudson could be dangerous. She grabbed the cards and led the way into the small office. She looked at the monitor and saw the mare moving around the stall.

“She’s getting stronger,” Luc said from behind her.

“Yes. That means we’ll probably have to let her out into the paddock soon.” Gwen shuffled the cards and dealt them.

Distracted by the sight of his hands cradling his hand of cards and his long legs stretched out across from hers, she tried to concentrate on her own cards.

“Maximum bet is twenty-five cents. Maximum raise fifty cents. I bet fifteen cents. What’s your favorite color?” he asked, drawing a card from the pile.

“Um, periwinkle. Why do you ask?” She looked at her cards and tried not to reveal her disappointment. “I’ll see your fifteen cents.”

“Because the media showing up tomorrow have decided it would be cute to give each of us a quiz about the other.”

Gwen glanced away from her cards. “Media tomorrow? We just did that today. I thought the other interviews would be over the phone.”

He shook his head, discarded two cards and drew two from the pile. “I need to know everything about you, and you need to know everything about me. I’ll bet twenty-five cents.”

She sighed in frustration. “Okay, so blue is your favorite color,” she began.

“What makes you say that?”

“When asked to name his favorite color, almost every man on the planet will say blue.”

“Mine is green,” he said.

“You’re just being contrary,” she said.

“Romantic,” he countered. “Your eyes are green.”

“Borderline sappy,” she said, discarding and drawing.

“Where do you want to honeymoon?” he asked.

The question jolted her. “Honeymoon?”

“Tahiti or Bali?” he said, discarding and drawing.

“Somewhere more private,” she mused. “Peter took me to Hawaii. I found out later that he leaked our plans to the press so they would show up to take photos.”

Luc met her gaze. “Really?” he said in disbelief. “Yeah,” she said. “All about the PR.”

“Not on your honeymoon,” he said.

“You can’t tell me that you’ve never exploited the honeymoon angle,” she said, discarding three of her sorry cards and drawing three more sorry cards. “Check.”

“Maybe, but the couples who are really in love just tell me to take a flying—” He broke off, suddenly reaching the conclusion that Gwen had reached for herself.

Silence fell between them.

“You have my sympathy,” he said.

Her pride stung, she raised her chin. “Don’t you dare pity me for what Peter—”

“Because you’re going to lose this hand,” he interjected, laying his full house on the table.

She stared at his cards then hers. One card shy of a full house, she scowled at him. “Beginner’s luck,” she said. “I’ll get you in the next game.”

He laughed. “In your dreams,” he said and scooped up the cards and shuffled them. “Now you owe me.”

“Owe you what?” she asked. “We were only playing for pennies.”

“Pennies translate into favors,” he said, shuffling again. “You wouldn’t play for clothing, so it’ll have to be favors.”

“Favors,” she echoed. “What do you call this fake engagement? Oh, wait, my mistake. That’s blackmail.”

“Exactly,” he said, presenting the deck for her to cut it. “So we’re playing for favors.”

“What if I win the same number of times you do? Doesn’t that just negate the winnings?”

“That won’t happen,” he said. “But if it did, you would get the same number of favors from me.”

“What if I don’t want any favors from you?”

“You will,” he said, meeting her gaze for a long moment that took her breath away.

“Deal,” she said, determined to teach him a lesson.

For the next two hours, they traded victories and secrets. She learned his favorite music, food, beer and pastimes, and he learned hers. It occurred to her that Luc would know more about her preferences after two days than her husband had known after three years.

“First crush?” she asked, preparing to rack up another win for herself.

“Sara Jameson, fourth grade,” he said.

Gwen stared at him in surprise. “You remember her name? I would have thought you’d have dated so many women that their names would run together.”

He shook his head. “If I’m the master of spin, then don’t you think I know how to create it for myself?”

“Are you telling me the playboy image isn’t real?”

“I create my image, then do what I want,” he said.

“You didn’t really answer my question,” she told him.

“I told you the name of my first crush. We didn’t break up until she moved away, freshman year in high school.”

“Wow, that’s longevity.”

“What about you?”

“I was shy, too tall. It took me a while.”

“You had to grow into those legs,” he said, his gaze sliding over her denim-clad figure.

“Tucker Martin,” she said with a sigh. “He had dimples and blue eyes. He was smart and funny.”

“How long did that last?”

“Oh, it never got off the ground. He didn’t notice me,” she said.

He gave a bark of laughter. “Poor sap. Bet he’s kicking himself down the street these days.” He placed his cards on the table. “Full house, again.”

She mentally swore. “You’re impossible.”

“I work at it,” he said. “You owe me another favor.”

She sighed and glanced at the monitor again. The horse had settled down. “I’ll think about that tomorrow,” she said quoting Scarlett O’Hara. “Time for me to go to bed.” She rose and he did too, standing mere inches from her. “Thanks for the amusement.”

“My pleasure. You need to give me one of my favors now,” he said.

A warning instinct flashed through her. “Why?”

“It’s something I need to know for the interview,” he said, moving closer to her.

She should step away from him, but for just a moment, his closeness felt good. “What?”

He lowered his head closer and closer, taking her breath with each corresponding invasion of her space. “I need to know how you taste.”

He gave her three agonizing seconds to protest or refuse, three seconds to turn back or pull away. But Gwen did none of those sensible things, because she wanted to know how he tasted, too.