“Because the reality is, Lexi, billionaires don’t want to buy their daughters’ wedding dresses from a designer who frequents sex clubs.”

Lexi’s chest burned with humiliation. Fury. Insult.

Yet Lexi agreed with her theory. Lexi lived her theory. This wasn’t an issue. It wasn’t like she and Rubi frequented Stilettos. It had been a one-time visit. And Lexi wouldn’t be doing anything but eating, drinking, sleeping, and breathing wedding dresses if she took this challenge on.

But then there was Jax.

Her heart clenched. And dropped.

Stupid. It wasn’t like anything was going to come of their rendezvous anyway.

She’d just thought…maybe…

Lexi shook the idea from her head. Her mouth curved in a wry, lopsided smile, but she felt no humor. No happiness. Not even hope. That had to be a bad sign.

“Rubi is a billionaire’s daughter,” Lexi said. “But I get your point, Martina.”

Her expression softened in sympathy. “I know this may seem extreme. I’m sorry. Please don’t think I’m telling you how to live your life. Consider it advice, sweetheart. You’ve worked so hard, risen so far above the competition.

“Let me just say that I’ve been in this business a long time, and I’ve seen how jealous, vindictive, and cutthroat other designers can be to nudge someone out of a spot they want. I’d hate to see that happen to you.” Martina wrapped her warm fingers around Lexi’s forearm. “You’re truly exceptional, Lexi. A diamond all buffed and ready for a pedestal and a spotlight. I want to see you grab this opportunity.”

Beth and Casey pulled up at the curb in a shiny gold Jaguar.

Lexi took Martina’s hand in both of hers. “Thank you for the opportunity, Martina, and for lunch, of course.”

Martina gave Lexi’s hand a squeeze, then leaned in to hug her, with a whispered, “Talk soon.”

She slid into the front seat of the Jaguar, and all three women waved to Lexi as they pulled away.

She stood there for a long time, staring at traffic and fighting the insane urge to cry. How could she have been hoisted so high only to be dropped without a net?

She pulled her phone from her purse and found her hands shaking. A text from Jax waited.

JAX: How did it go?

“Shit,” she muttered. How sweet was that?

Damn this development. If this meeting had gone as expected, she could have taken the next step with Jax. Turning on lights. Sharing names. Making plans for their return to LA.

Now, she not only had to worry about how his image could possibly affect her, but about whatever secrets he held in his past along with her own. She had to worry about him turning into a Steven if they started a relationship she discovered she needed to get out of.

Those little sparks of “maybe” flitting through her head since she’d left his room this morning had just been completely doused. And she couldn’t tell which hurt worse—the loss of a potential relationship with Jax or the change in this opportunity.

Lexi dialed Rubi’s number, found a seat on a concrete bench, becoming invisible among the crowds, and pulled on her sunglasses to hide the escaping tears.

Eleven

Jax grimaced as he pulled at the chain-mail headpiece with both hands. The Friesian stallion beneath him snorted and pranced sideways. “Who the hell,” he muttered to no one—at least he hoped no one was watching him try to pry his face out of this getup, “last wore this thing?”

Hoofbeats approached. Jax’s horse veered right. He added pressure with his calf to keep the horse in place as he twisted his head, his fingers prying beneath the edges of the contraption. Something caught on his chin.

“Little trouble there, dude?” There was restrained laughter in Tyler Manning’s voice. Jax could imagine the look on the actor’s face—the co-star of the film playing opposite Brad Pitt at only twenty-four.

“Fucking A.” He laughed out the words, making a production of yanking at the helmet, complete with sound effects and facial expressions.

Ty started laughing and sounded like he might double himself over any minute. The only thing that kept Jax from laughing his own ass right off the horse was the way the damn helmet was starting to cut into his skin. This was one of those hilarious moments that could only happen in this job.

Jax slumped in the saddle and held his arms out. “Little help here, partner?” But Ty sounded like he could barely breathe let alone help. Jax was frying in his armor as he muttered, “You worthless piece of shit.”

He grabbed the helmet again, twisted it while turning his head, contorting his face, and swearing up a storm. The stallion didn’t like Jax’s jerky movements or Ty’s laughter or the laughter now coming from other sources, and the animal’s frustrated prancing circles weren’t helping Jax. But he finally freed his head.

“Christ.” He glanced down at the helmet, turning it over, looking inside, trying to figure out why the hell it stuck. “It tried to eat me alive. Did you see that? I barely escaped with my eyeballs.”

Ty’s laughter had the kid wheezing. When he listed sideways in his saddle, Jax tossed the defective helmet to the ground and looked up, grinning. Ty was nearly perpendicular to the horse, a white Andalusian as calm as Jax’s Friesian was strung out.

And he had his iPhone in his hand. Pointed at Jax.

“You little fucker,” Jax said around a laugh. “You better not have recorded that.”

“Are you kidding?” he said, panting for air, leaning on the saddle to keep himself up. “That’s going in the funniest-moments archive. When I’m roasted in twenty years for some life-achievement award, you’ll be there, buddy.”

“Not if you don’t live that long.” Jax grabbed his reins. He only had to release the pressure of his legs to have his horse lunging forward. He flew past Ty and snapped the phone from his hand, then rode off. He whooped and laughed over his shoulder. “That’s what happens when you snooze, pretty boy.”

Ty yelled something Jax didn’t hear and came after him. They were equally talented riders, both on horseback since they were kids.

“If you erase that,” Ty yelled when he grew close, “I’m going to skewer you in the next scene.”

“Try, kid,” Jax called back. “It’ll give me an excuse to knock your ass off that horse.”

As Jax and Ty neared the bay at the north end of the park, they slowed, both more interested in riding than playing keep-away with the phone. Jax pulled his horse to a stop where the grass gave way to the sand.

“Dude,” Ty said, pulling up beside him, “these are some amazing ponies.” He leaned over and swiped the phone from Jax’s hand. “Relax, I won’t do anything with it. I just want it for me.” He started laughing again, crossing an arm over his belly. “Shit, no ab workout for me today. That was so fucking funny.”

Sweat dripped down Jax’s face, stung his eyes. This would be a fun week. “God, what I’d give for a swim right now.”

“What I’d give for a break. Or some lunch.” He turned a scowl on Jax. “You owe me dinner and drinks some night this week, dude. Your plane didn’t get in late this morning. Now I’m starving because you stalled everything and they’re running us hard. Hope she was at least worth it.”

“You checked my plane?” Shit. He hated getting caught in lies. “Who are you? My mother?” Though his mother would never have even cared, let alone thought to check on his plane.

“What the hell else did I have to do?” Ty started tapping the face of his phone with his thumb.

“What are you doing?” Jax asked, suspicious.

“Just putting it out on Facebook.” Before Jax could react, Ty put up a hand and leaned away as if he were protecting himself from an attack. “Kidding. I’m texting it to you. You can forward it to your girl. She’ll pee herself laughing. Then maybe you’ll get that text you’re waiting on.”

“What girl? And what text?”

Ty slid Jax a knowing look and tucked his phone into a space between his armor and his chest. “The one you’ve been checking your phone for every fucking fifteen minutes, dude. I’m not blind…or stupid. There’s very little short of death and one killer-hot chick that can make you late.”

Jax smirked and returned his gaze straight ahead. “The stupid part’s debatable.”

“Just tell me it’s not the bitch who fucked you out of the Bond film—literally,” Ty said, “or I really am going to skewer you in the next scene.”

Irritation crawled up Jax’s spine and gripped his chest like twin fists. “I’ve been screwed over by so many women in so many different ways, why is everyone so damn set on remembering that particular occasion?” He turned narrowed eyes on Ty. “And how did you find out?”

“I worked with Pine on Into Darkness. Pine heard it from Hardy. Hardy heard it from Bale. Bale heard it from—”

“Never-fucking-mind.” Jax turned away. One of his guys had worked with all of those actors recently. Word spread so damn fast about the stupidest shit in this industry. Who the fuck cared about Jax’s sex life? Since he’d left acting and now made one percent of what he used to, who the hell cared what contract he gained or lost? Or why? “You all need to get a damn life. And no, it’s not her.”

It was one thirty p.m. Lexi was probably still in that important lunch. That was what he kept telling himself, because he was not going to get crazy over her not texting him back when he’d sent her a message asking how the meeting went. Though that didn’t account for her not texting about the jacket. He’d left it at the desk on his way out with a request for them to send it to her room. Of course he only had her first name, but he knew Spencer’s staff, and he knew it would have reached her before she’d gone to lunch.

But he wasn’t going to let that little fear in the back of his mind take over—the one that whispered she wouldn’t be at the hotel when he got back. Or that she didn’t want to hook up tonight.

He was staying positive. He hoped the meeting was going so well she’d forgotten all about him. Okay, almost all about him. He was anxious to hear the details. Hoped he could keep himself from attacking her until they talked for a little while, because he wanted her more now than he had this morning.

When he and Ty got back to the set, the crew still wasn’t ready to shoot, and they steered the horses into the shade of some pine trees to wait. Someone from costume brought Jax another helmet. Someone else brought them each two bottles of ice-cold water.

Jax leaned on the metal helmet propped on the pommel of his saddle and took another deep drink from his water bottle, then poured the rest over his head and face. The real relief came from the way it trickled down his neck and into the metal armor covering his body.

“So, who is she?” Ty asked.

“Why don’t you ask Pine or Hardy or Bale or someone?”

“Very fucking funny.”

“I don’t need any more rumors floating around.”