“You wouldn’t believe it.”
“Seriously. You want me to consider this? Then tell me.”
“I ran into him in Rittenhouse Park. He was feeding pigeons.”
“Shut the fuck up, now I know you’re lying.”
He laughs and shakes his head, turning around to face the same direction as me. He crosses his arms and his elbow brushes against mine, and a chill runs down my spine. His eyes glance along my body like he felt it too, and I’m distinctly aware of him lingering on the hint of cleavage, my exposed back, my hips, and my lips.
“I’m really doing this, Blair. Cowan’s got a script and it’s really fucking good. I want to bankroll him, produce the whole thing, and he wants to shoot it locally. It’ll be our first project, and if it works, this can make our entire careers. I want your help. Of everyone at Drake, you’re the only one I’m approaching.”
I chew on my lip, considering. If he’s not full of shit, this could be absolutely huge. Cowan’s never made a bad movie, but he’s notoriously strange and difficult to work with. He’s only ever finished three projects, and abandoned half a dozen, which isn’t a good track record—but those three projects are incredible.
To be a part of the production company that finally gets a Cowan film into theaters after all these years sounds like a dream. The second employee, right on the ground floor? It’s so tempting I could scream.
“Why me?”
He nods and shifts closer. Now we’re touching, arm to arm, and I don’t pull away. It’s a dance we’re going through and I’m not sure why it’s happening at all, but I feel this sudden pull to him. It could be the alcohol buzzing in my head or the scenic wedding or just him. Baptist annoys the hell out of me, and I think he’s an egotistical asshole, but this is a real opportunity. And he is handsome as hell.
I’m flattered he’s thinking of me. I’m attracted to the way he’s looking at my dress.
Maybe I should stop drinking the champagne.
Instead, I drain my glass and look for another.
“You’re clever. You work hard. Ansell speaks highly of you and your clients all think you’re the best. Marie likes you, which I guess means something.”
“That’s just a bunch of crap other people say.” I turn toward him, looking hard. “What doyouthink?”
His eyes meet mine. There’s that smoldering need again, so intense I nearly pull back, but I don’t move. His fingers brush against my wrist, just the slightest touch, sending a jolt into my core. What’s with this guy all of a sudden?
“I think you’re smarter than you let on. I think you’d kill to make this project a success, and that’s what I need. Drive, talent, ambition. I want someone that cares as much as I do, and you’re the only person I know that gets anywhere close.”
I take a slow breath. “And you’re not doing it because of my father?”
He knows damn well who Alexander Webb is. Everyone in this industry knows my dad, and I’ve spent my entire life fighting off blood-sucking leeches intent on getting close to me just to meet my father. I’m not about to let Baptist take advantage of me, not even for an opportunity like this one.
“No, I’m not.”
“Promise me.” I touch his chest, my palm flat against his heart. He seems surprised, but he doesn’t pull back. I feel his heart beating, slow and steady, and I stare at him sharply. “Promise it has nothing to do with my dad.”
“I promise.”
His heart races, faster and faster.
“You’re lying.” I move to pull away.
But he catches my wrist. I stare in surprise as he yanks me closer, pressing my hand harder to his chest, above his heart. It’s pounding now like he’s in the middle of a marathon. I look in his eyes and he gazes back, and that longing is incredible and painful, and I don’t understand it at all.
Is his heart racing because he’s not telling the truth?
Or maybe it’s because I’m so close.
“I want you, Webb. Not your father.”
I bite my lip and slowly nod.
What am I doing right now?