a challenge than many female fans offered, but he was still a man.
Nothing wrong with looking.
He could invite a couple women to Chas’s villa, but he doubted the producer would want the meeting turned into a party. It had been delayed long enough due to the costume designs not being here. He should get back and see if they’d arrived.
His gaze left a zebra-striped bikini-clad Sports Illustrated–swimsuit-issue-worthy body and saw pink. He jerked to a stop so hard he thought he might get whiplash. Instead of soft skin and delectable cleavage, he saw a baggy pink T-shirt hiding every feminine curve he might want to check out. Jeans? baggy, as well?covered her legs except for white calves. Not the hint of a tan—or even a fake one—on her legs or arms.
Allergic to the sun? Unless she was one of those vampire types.
She looked to be in her early twenties. Her shoulders hunched, as if she were trying to hide or maybe had bad posture. Light brown unruly hair was clipped haphazardly on the top of her head. Corkscrew curly strands stuck out every which way. Unglossed lips pressed together in a thin line. But her eyes drew his attention.
Dark, thick lashes surrounded pretty brown eyes. The color reminded him of a cup of espresso. Dark and rich with subtle hints of something more, something deeper, spicier.
A funny feeling took root in his stomach.
He stared, captivated.
Warm, expressive … and not happy to see him.
He did a double take.
Disdain filled her eyes, making him feel like a piece of trash washed onto the sand by the tide. He knew the feeling all too well and didn’t like it one bit.
Adam forced his feet to move and walked past her.
At least she wasn’t one of those rabid stalker fans who stared at him in awe, saw his movies at least three times on opening weekends, slept on a pillowcase bearing his image and believed he was truly the character Neptune, his most successful role to date, and wanted him to impregnate her with a half human, half deity fetus. Those women scared him.
“Mr. Noble.” A feminine voice with a slight twang called his name.
Adam stopped. People rarely called him mister. He kind of liked it. He wondered which of the scantily dressed beauties the Southern accent belonged to. He wouldn’t mind playing Rhett Butler to a Scarlett O’Hara, especially one who showed the same strength as the Georgia belle. He turned.
The girl with the messy hair and pink T-shirt took a step toward him.
Her? He was usually luckier than that, except she did have beautiful eyes.
On second look, she wasn’t as plain as he originally thought. She reminded him of a Midwestern tourist or one of those nerd types who attended schools like Cal Tech or MIT and recited lines from The Lord of the Rings without a moment’s hesitation. Kind of cute if you liked geeks. “Yes?”
She looked at the sand, as if meeting his gaze would turn her into a block of stone. “The meeting is about to start. They would like you to come back to the, er, house.”
Funny, but he would have never expected her to be in the business. She didn’t look like any personal assistant he’d seen running around a lot or set. Someone’s daughter or niece? Maybe the housekeeper or nanny. “You were sent to get me?”
As she nodded, hair fell out of the clip. Curly strands framed her face. Her high cheekbones, a nice straight nose and full lips were attractive. But she wore no mascara, eyeliner or foundation. Not a hint of lipstick. He was used to women wearing makeup and going to great lengths to play up their assets and look their best. This girl seemed to have missed that memo. Or maybe she didn’t care what people thought about her. He found that idea very attractive.
“Duty calls, ladies,” he said to the women in bikinis.
As they walked away with promising smiles, the girl before him shook her head. She’d yet to smile.
Her attitude amused him. He wondered what it would take to turn her disapproval into acceptance.
“Who are you? A PA?” Adam asked her.
She tilted her chin. “I’m Megan Calhoun. An intern.”
Aha. So she was at the bottom of the food chain. But that didn’t explain the way she was acting. Her attitude and her looks wouldn’t help her move up the ladder.
“We should get going, then.” He wanted to get her to crack a smile. “I wouldn’t want to be responsible for getting you into any trouble.”
No smile, but her features relaxed. Gratitude shone in her eyes. “Thanks.”
Interesting how she let every emotion show. The girl must never have heard the expression poker face before. Adam could have some fun with that. In fact, he would.
“You’re welcome.” He handed her his surfboard. “Here.”
She inhaled sharply. As her fingers gripped the wet board, she struggled to hold on to it. The Fish weighed ten pounds or so, but it was half a foot taller than her. “You want me to carry this thing?”
The indignation in her voice made him bite back a smile. Not quite a modern-day Scarlett, but as close as he’d find on a beach in Malibu. “You’re the intern.”
“In costumes,” she clarified.
Now that surprised him. Costume people tended to dress the part. They didn’t wear their best clothes when working on the set because they could get dirty. But they usually looked good. Stylish, even in their grubbies. Megan dressed like one of the tech crew. Maybe she liked being comfortable, not stylish and fashionable.
“You’re still an intern.” Adam wanted to get a response out of her. This should do it. He grinned wryly. “And I’m the star.”
CHAPTER TWO
MEGAN’S full lips narrowed into a thin line. Pink colored her cheeks. Resentful, offended, annoyed, angry, put out. Her feelings flashed across her face brighter than the neon lights on the Las Vegas Strip.
Adam had wanted a reaction. Looks like he got one.
He fought the urge to laugh. Someone who didn’t know how to control her emotions was rare in a town where showing any weakness could mean you were shark bait. He liked it. “I suppose I can carry the board myself. If it’s too much trouble for you.”
Megan didn’t say a word. But the determined set of her chin and the gold flames flickering in her eyes told him to back off.
He did. Playing with her was more fun than he thought it would be. He didn’t want her to get angry and storm off. Not that any intern would do that if they had half a brain. Truth was, he was the star and could get away with … a lot.
She maneuvered the Fish awkwardly, as if she’d never held a surfboard before. Given the way she tried to carry it, she probably hadn’t. She looked like she might tip over.
He reached toward her, but she shrugged off his assistance. Interesting. Many women liked playing the damsel in distress to his knight in shining armor. Not this one.
Megan readjusted the board, nearly losing her balance again. She walked toward the villa.
Adam’s respect inched up. She was tougher than she looked. He liked rooting for the underdog. He’d been one himself until recently.
He lengthened his stride to catch up to her. “Being an intern sucks. But you have to start somewhere in this business.”
He waited for her to say something. She didn’t.
“I was a stuntman and a stand-in before becoming an actor,” he continued.
Still nothing. That was … odd.
Something had to be wrong with her. People sucked up to him no matter what