“Look,” she said in a much gentler tone, “we have to work together for the next few weeks. If we’re going to go see Alcatraz together tomorrow, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be under the false assumption that this,” she gestured between the two of them, “is ever going to happen again.”

At thirty-six, Smith had fame, he’d made a fortune, he’d traveled and partied and thrown himself into his work for two decades. Now he was ready for what came next: to be with a woman he not only desired, but with whom he could share his life, his dreams. A woman with whom he could grow old. He was also ready for kids to play with on the beach, to throw balls with in the park, to let loose with their cousins at a family party.

So even though he’d heard Valentina’s reasons loud and clear, and even though he couldn’t deny that his life came chock full of spotlights, Smith refused to give up. Not when something told him that she might very well be the one...and that if he didn’t fight like hell for her, he’d never stop cursing himself for a fool.

“How about this? I won’t kiss you again until you ask me to.”

She barely hesitated before saying, “I’m not going to ask you to kiss me again.”

“Yes,” he said softly, “you will.”

She blinked at him. Once. Twice. Three times before saying, “I still don’t understand why you’re trying so hard when I’ve given you every reason to let me go.”

He wouldn’t kiss her until she asked, but he’d said nothing about putting limits on touching her. He moved closer again, close enough to reach for the tip of her ponytail and run his fingers through her long, soft hair.

“Ask me to kiss you again, and I’ll remind you of one of the reasons.”

The look she gave him said, Nice try, even as she said, “You must have shared plenty of hot kisses with other women.”

“Not that hot. Not even close.” He paused just long enough to let his fingers slide from her hair down to the exposed skin above the collar of her fitted wool jacket. She shivered beneath this barest of touches. “And neither have you.”

Chapter Nine

Valentina had never been so thankful for Smith’s busy schedule or her sister’s popularity. It meant that they’d been interrupted in his office before one kiss could turn into any others, and that she could go straight back to her own office and bury herself in her workload...with Smith only edging into her mind every other second, rather than every single one.

Because even as their kiss dove into increasingly deep and dangerous waters, she could feel his patience, and how tightly he’d been holding on to his control.

With a heady shiver of anticipation she knew she shouldn’t be feeling, Valentina could no longer deny the absolute certainty that Smith’s patience was going to run out soon.

And that hers would, too.

Even though she’d tried again and again to keep her distance, she hadn’t been able to keep from getting closer instead.

With every word he spoke, she could feel her defenses crumble just a little bit more. Had he chosen that final moment before the knock came at his office door to reach for her, she would have gone to him, with him, without a protest, without a care in the world for all her reasons for staying away from him.

Just as Valentina was trying to complete the impossible task of dragging her focus away from Smith’s kiss and back to her email, Tatiana popped her head in.

“Got a second?”

Valentina immediately got up from behind her computer. “Always.” She put her arms around her sister and gave her a hug hello. “What’s up?”

Her sister’s gaze sharpened on her. “I actually wanted to check on you.”

“Me?”

“Is everything okay?”

Dozens of responses flew to the tip of Valentina’s tongue: Smith kissed me. Or I kissed him. I honestly don’t know what happened. Only that it was good. So good that I can’t seem to find my center again.

But even though she badly wanted to talk to her best friend in the world about her twisted thoughts and feelings, she didn’t dare. Not when Tatiana was working so closely with Smith. Her job as lead actress on the major feature film was hard enough on her. The last thing she needed to be worrying about was whether or not her sister was getting along with her all-powerful co-star.

“George asked me the same thing,” Valentina said with a smile. “I think I’m officially too old to get away with missing a few hours of sleep.”

Tatiana rolled her eyes. “You’re not old, you just work too hard. And because that’s entirely my fault, I’m treating both of us to a spa day on Saturday.”

Valentina almost moaned aloud at the thought of getting a massage and then sinking into a spa. “You know I love working hard. But I’m certainly not going to say no to a spa day with my favorite person in the world.” Just then a text came in on her phone from George. “Your esteemed agent has just asked me when you’ll be up for a conference call to talk about your commercial in Japan.”

“Would tomorrow work? I was actually going to head back to the house soon to go over my lines a few more times.”

“Okay, I’ll tell him,” Valentina said, and then, “Do you want me to run them with you?”

Her sister shook her head. “No. I mean, I know them cold. That’s not really the problem.”

She always did, thought Valentina. Even when she was a little girl, her sister had never flubbed her lines. She’d left it up to the less prepared adults to do that.

“I guess I’m just a little nervous about shooting tomorrow’s scene. I mean, I know how to pretend to be in love, or how to act scared, or happy...but I’ve never been in labor before.”

“Thank God for that,” Valentina teased, glad when her sister smiled. “You don’t need to overthink it.”

“I know I shouldn’t,” Tatiana agreed, “but I just really want to do the scene justice for all the mothers out there who’ve gone through so much pain for their kids.” With clear hesitation, she said, “I talked to Mom about it.”

Valentina felt a sharp pang in the center of her chest as she forced out, “That was smart. What did she say?”

“She was actually pretty helpful.”

Valentina bit back a sarcastic “She was?”

“She told me all about her labor with each of us, about how it hurt so bad that Daddy refused to let go of her hand for even a second. Eighteen hours,” Tatiana said softly. “That’s how long he held her hand. Until he could finally hold us.”

Valentina exhaled a shaky breath as she reached for her sister’s fingers and gripped them tightly. “I miss him so much sometimes.”

“Me too,” Tatiana said, and even though their mother wasn’t there with them, she might as well have been. Because she had to miss him most of all.

Her sister was just getting up to leave when Tatiana spotted the black-and-white picture. “Oh, I love this picture! When did you get it?”

“This morning. Smith found it in the candids Larry has been taking on set and gave it to me.”

Her sister’s eyes flickered to hers. “That was nice of him.”

Valentina nodded and carefully said, “He’s certainly setting the bar high for your next co-star.”

Tatiana stared at the photo for another few seconds before putting it down. “I was thinking about ordering pizza and chasing it with some ice cream to help put myself in a pregnant-craving mindset. Any interest in joining me?”

“Are you kidding?” Work could wait. A night with her sister was precious. She grabbed her bag and her phone, but purposefully left her laptop on her desk for once. “Pizza and ice cream sounds almost as good as a spa day. In fact, if we pair it with Pretty Woman I may not need the spa at all to put a spring back in my step.”

“What is it,” her sister asked as they headed for the parking lot, “about a prostitute and a billionaire falling in love that’s so darn perfect?”

Valentina shrugged. “Who knows?” After all, the last thing she had a clue about was love, fictional...or otherwise. “Some things are just perfect,” she said as she found herself thinking about Smith again, “even when they don’t make any sense.”

And some things, like her relationship with her mother, would never be perfect no matter how badly she wanted them to be.

* * *

The next day, feeling much more relaxed after a night of gorging on junk food while reciting all the lines in Pretty Woman to each other, Valentina sat back with the rest of the crew and watched Smith and Tatiana as they stood with their heads bent over the script, talking through the nuances of the scene one last time before they started shooting.

Most of the movie had been filmed in order so far. It wasn’t always like that, but Valentina liked it when the story arc made sense. Heck, she liked it when things made sense, period.

Yesterday they’d filmed a handful of montage scenes of Smith’s character, Graham, slowly wooing Tatiana’s character, Jo.

First, he gave her baby booties, soft and pink and so pretty that she hadn’t been able to refuse them. When Jo had said, “I haven’t asked to know the sex. It might be a boy,” Graham’s eyes had clouded over. “It’s a girl.” And then he’d walked out, leaving Jo frowning, still holding the booties.

The next time he came to the coffee shop he was carrying a small silver bag with more pink inside. Only this time he didn’t stay to watch her pull out the tiny baby clothes, pretty little dresses that everyone exclaimed over. She ran from the coffee shop and caught him halfway down the sidewalk. Her thank you came first, her admonishment not to keep bringing her gifts came second. But all he said in response was that she needed to be more careful about running down a crowded sidewalk in her condition.

Jo found the brand-new stroller and newborn-baby seat inside her apartment the next afternoon when she’d had an early-morning shift. She ran her hand over it admiringly even as she decided that Graham had gone too far. Not just because the gift was way too expensive and it would take her forever pay him back, or because she was touched despite herself at the fact that he’d clearly done his research about the safest baby gear, but because he’d not only figured out where she lived, he’d also figured out a way to get the stroller inside without asking her permission.

It was easy to look up Graham on the Internet and find out where he worked. Or, rather, the name of the building he owned in the financial district.

Jo knew she looked horribly out of place with her big belly and bright maternity clothes and pink-streaked hair on the busy street full of tense people in dark suits all rushing as they spoke into earpieces. Five months ago it might have bothered her the way people stopped and stared at her, wondering what the heck she was doing so far out of her environment, but with her entire focus on giving the businessman—or as she’d just learned, billionaire—a piece of her mind, she simply didn’t care.

The glass in the front of the building was so clean and clear she imagined people walked nose-first into it every day. Pushing the heavy front door open, she had to stop to take in the high ceiling, the polished granite floors, the almost quiet reverence to money that the building, and every occupant she could see in the large entry, gave off.

Irritated with herself for being impressed, she marched up to the security desk. “I need to see Graham.”

To his credit, the man didn’t blink an eye. Not at her youth. Her clothes. Or her belly. “Name, please.”

“Jo. I don’t have an appointment.” She lifted her chin. “But he’ll see me.”

The guard studied her for a long moment and she stared back as calmly as she could. Finally, he picked up the phone. “Angie, I have Jo here to see Mr. Hughes.” Whatever the receptionist said had a flicker of surprise finally crossing the man’s face.