nodded. “When I was younger, I was...lost. I didn’t really fit in—with my family, with the kids in school. I felt like an outsider most of the time. Then one day, I picked up one of Aileen Quinn’s books at the library. I think I was twelve, and I was so excited that the librarian had given me an adult book. I found myself in that book. The heroine in the story was all alone in the world, but she was so strong and determined, nothing could stop her. And in the end, she made a wonderful life for herself. And I told myself that I could do the same thing.” Marlie met his gaze. “Aileen Quinn changed my life. I know that sounds dramatic, but it’s true.”
“That’s a good reason,” he murmured. “You’re passionate about your subject.”
“So maybe instead of thinking of all the reasons why you can’t do this project, you should think about the reasons why you should.”
“And what might those be?” Dex asked.
“I’ll be honest. With your name attached to the project, it’s going to get much more attention than it ever would with just my name. People will be interested in seeing it. We’ll get distribution and interest at the film festivals.”
Dex turned away, letting the sound of her voice lure him back in again. Everything she said was true. His name would open a lot of doors for her. And it wasn’t as if he was doing anything useful with his time, beyond lying around Claire’s flat and drinking far too much.
But if he did agree to do the film, he’d have to maintain the same professionalism he and Matt had insisted on. He’d have to find a way to keep his mind—and his hands—off Marlie.
“There are other guys in Ireland who could do the job,” Dex said.
“But I want you.”
He took in the stubborn set of her jaw, the determined look in her eyes, and he felt his resistance softening. The least he could do is listen to her proposal. How the hell was he supposed to say no? Maybe if he found the pitch interesting, he might consider doing the film. But if he found himself more intrigued by the woman than the project, he’d send her on her way.
After all, working might be good for him. But falling into an affair with a beautiful yet vulnerable American had disaster written all over it. And Dex had had enough of disaster lately.
“Tell me something,” Dex said. “If I hadn’t come along, were you planning on sleeping out here?”
“I guess I was,” Marlie said. She shrugged. “I had to give it one more try.” She met his gaze. “Will you listen?”
“Yeah,” Dex said. “I can’t promise you anything, except—” he paused “—except that I’m not going to kiss you again. If we’re considering working together, we need to make sure we can keep things professional.”
“Of course. There will be no more kissing,” she said. “Or touching. Because that could lead to kissing. Strictly professional.”
“All right,” Dex said. “Why don’t you grab your computer and come inside?”
“Now? You don’t want to leave this until the morning?”
“No,” Dex said. “I’m not tired. We can do it now.”
A smile broke across her face. “All right. Thank you. You won’t be disappointed. You’re going to say yes. I just know it.”
As Dex got out of the car, he realized that her prediction was probably right. He’d have a hard time saying no to a woman as beautiful and passionate as Marlie Jenner. She could ask him to strip naked and run down Grafton Street in Dublin and he’d probably do it. So if she decided to kiss him again, how was he going to stop her?
She joined him at the gate, her laptop clutched in her arms. When he opened the front door, he reached inside, flipping on a light. Marlie followed him, smiling brightly.
“I really do appreciate this chance.”
Dex helped her out of her jacket, his fingers brushing against her shoulders and tangling for a moment in her hair. The contact sent a current of desire racing through him, and he fought against the reaction.
“I’m going to get a drink,” Dex said. “Can I get you anything?”
“What do you have?” Marlie asked. “Something to warm me up would be good.”
“Whiskey,” Dex murmured. “We need whiskey. Why don’t you sit down on the sofa. I’ll get the drinks, start a fire and then we’ll see what you have to say.”
Dex wandered back to the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the cupboard above the sink. He took a long swallow, letting the alcohol burn a path down his throat and warm his body. “Get a grip. She’s just a girl. Just a pretty girl.”
* * *
“SO WHAT DO you think?” Marlie grabbed her glass of whiskey and took a slip. “Please tell me you at least find this interesting. I want your creative input. I—I realize it’s not the kind of project you usually do. But it’s a wonderful story, and she’s an incredible woman. You’re going to love her and—”
Dex pressed a finger to her lips and Marlie stopped. She’d made her pitch. Now it was time to let him do the talking. So she asked, “Do you have any questions? Or comments, maybe?”
He chuckled. “I have a lot of questions. But I’m not sure I should ask them.”
“No, I want you to. Challenge me. Argue with me. I want to know exactly what you’re thinking.”
“You don’t have any idea how beautiful you are, do you?” Dex shook his head and groaned. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know. But it had to be said.” He turned her laptop toward him and stared at the old photo of Aileen Quinn.
Marlie watched him as he contemplated his decision. Watching the firelight dance over his face, she wanted to reach out and touch him, to lose herself in the wild sensations of desire and need that had raced through her when they’d kissed.
She couldn’t imagine they’d be able to go back to a professional relationship after that kiss, wasn’t even sure she wanted to. It had been quite a while since she’d had a man in her life. And she’d never been with a man quite as accomplished—and sexy—as Dex.
But if he felt that a professional relationship was required, she’d do her best to keep her distance.
“Miss Quinn is an interesting subject,” Dex said, “but I just don’t see a hook here. We’d just be making a filmed version of her biography.”
Marlie had held back the most interesting part of the story, hoping it might push him over the edge if he had any doubts. “Aileen Quinn had four older brothers. Shortly after she was born, her mother sent them off to different corners of the world, some with new families. Aileen just learned about her brothers last year and she’s been tracking down their descendants. They’re all gathering here in Ireland at Christmas for a big reunion, and we’re going to be there to talk to them. She’s still looking for one of the brothers, Conal, so that search will be part of the film, too. Maybe we’ll even find him.” She paused. “I was planning on using the search to structure the narrative.”
“That does make for an interesting story,” he admitted.
“And each of the heirs is getting a million dollars,” she said. “Give or take. It’s like winning the lottery. It’s changed their lives. And there are so many great stories to tell.”
He closed her laptop and rested his hand over it. “I have one big concern, though, and that’s your obvious admiration for Aileen Quinn.”
“I do admire her.”
“You have to maintain a proper distance from your subject so that you can see her objectively, warts and all. I won’t