in the city. But even the knowing hadn’t been able to minimize the tremendous hurt that had completely devastated Dahlia when the moment had come.
There was no missing the emotion that passed over Dahlia’s face. Guy found himself taken aback by her expression. The pain of it felt like a needle prick through his heart, and in that moment he would have done anything to take the hurt from her eyes and make everything well again. He resisted the temptation to reach out and touch her, to strum his fingers against the back of her hand and down the length of her arm.
As if reading his thoughts, Dahlia pulled her hands back into her lap. She met his gaze, and his stare was like a soothing balm. Guy smiled. The warmth of it seared through her like a bolt of lightning. She gasped lightly.
Clearing her throat, she finally said, “I am still fine-tuning the script. I’ve also felt like there was something that was missing in the story line, something I haven’t been able to define yet.”
Dahlia then tossed him a smile of her own. “What I can tell you is that when they met, my grandmother had snuck out of the house to see Nat King Cole. He was performing at that dance hall. He was in his teens himself, his own career just beginning.”
“Nat King Cole! Amazing!”
“Granny thought so, too. She was enamored with the man and always said that Nat would be her second husband if my granddaddy didn’t act right.”
Guy chuckled softly. “Good to know. ‘When I Fall in Love’ and ‘Dream a Little Dream of Me’ were two of my favorites of his.”
Dahlia’s smile widened, pleasantly surprised that he was even familiar with the late crooner’s bibliography.
Taking note of the astonished look in her eyes, Guy laughed heartily. “I am an old soul,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Interesting.” Dahlia leaned forward in her seat, her elbows coming to rest on the table as she clasped her hands beneath her chin. She sat in quiet deliberation for a brief moment before continuing, “I’ll be honest with you, Guy, it’s looking like the studios are not going to back this project. Not as I had hoped they would. It seems that I will be producing this film independently, on a significantly lower budget, but I intend for it to rival any mainstream film production out there.”
“So, what you’re telling me is that I won’t be making a million plus for this role?”
“Not even close. Still interested?”
Guy met her gaze and held it, intently studying the delicate lines of her features. Dahlia Morrow was a stunning woman. Even more beautiful than the magazine images of her that he’d seen. She had beautiful eyes, dark seductive orbs that a man could lose himself in if he were so inclined. Her full lips parted ever so slightly, her tongue snaking past to quickly lick the line of her mouth. When she did he felt an unexpected surge of heat through his groin. He suddenly reached for her bottle of water and took a deep swig.
Eyebrows lifted, Dahlia laughed at his forwardness. “We can order you your own drink if you want,” she said, still giggling softly as she snatched her water bottle from his hands.
Guy grinned sheepishly. “Umm...that’s umm...not necessary,” he muttered. “You looked like you didn’t mind sharing.” His expression was teasing as his eyes locked with hers for the umpteenth time.
There was a pause as they sat staring at each other, both grinning widely.
“You’re funny,” Dahlia said, finally breaking the silence.
“Not as funny as you are, Ms. Morrow!”
Dahlia rolled her eyes.
“On a serious note,” Dahlia said, deliberately changing the subject, “this movie is proving to be more of a challenge than I anticipated.”
“You’re a beautiful, black woman trying to move a mountain, Dahlia. No one said that would be easy.”
“No, they didn’t. Nor did they say my wanting to move that mountain means you or any other man has to be there pushing with me.”
Guy smiled. It was an easy lift to his mouth that warmed Dahlia’s spirit. “What kind of a man would I be if I wasn’t willing to give a woman who is so determined a helping hand?”
Dahlia considered his question before responding. “Not the man I would want starring in my next movie,” she said as she extended a manicured hand in his direction. Dahlia didn’t miss his holding tight to her fingers a second longer than necessary, nor did she miss the heat that seemed to rise out of nowhere and radiate between them. She pulled her hand away, fighting not to show that she was uncomfortable with the sensations sweeping over her, vulnerability painting her expression.
Grateful for the alarm, she stole a quick glance at her smartphone as it vibrated against the tabletop. “I look forward to working with you, Mr. Boudreaux,” she said as she stood up, moving to leave. “I will give your agent a call and make a formal offer. Welcome to my movie.”
“The pleasure will be mine, Ms. Morrow,” he said as he came to his feet. He tossed her a quick wink of his eye. “And thanks for the water.”
Dahlia laughed warmly. “Don’t thank me yet, Guy!” she said as she made her exit.
Guy stared intently after Dahlia as she eased her way out of the room. His eyes were not the only ones to follow after her, and he had to appreciate the view along with her other admirers. Dahlia Morrow was captivatingly beautiful.
Guy smiled widely, his gaze skating the lines of her formfitting dress. The red silk garment she wore was like wet paint slathered over the curves of her full bustline, thin waist and lush derriere. The woman had curves, a Rubenesque figure, all the stuff that could make a strong man beg on his knees for her attention.
As the waiter paused at the table, depositing the unpaid tab for that one bottle of water, Guy had to laugh, completely intrigued by Dahlia. As he deposited a twenty-dollar bill onto the table, he hated to admit that begging on his knees had surely crossed his mind, if only for a very brief moment.
Chapter 4
Leslie shook her head as she stood with Dahlia’s requisite morning beverage in hand. Dahlia eyed her warily as she took hold of the cup and took the first sip of her drink.
“What?” Dahlia questioned, her eyes wide with curiosity. “What now?”
“You tell me,” Leslie said, blocking Dahlia’s path into her office.
“I don’t have a clue what you’re referring to,” Dahlia said, her curiosity peaked.
Leslie smirked, meeting Dahlia’s intense gaze. “Guy Boudreaux has been waiting for you. He’s in your office.”
Dahlia stood like stone, her mouth falling open in surprise. “Guy Boudreaux?”
Leslie nodded as she pointed to the closed office door. “And the casting agency delivered copies of his contract this morning. You didn’t tell me that Guy Boudreaux had said yes,” she whispered in a hushed breath.
“Must have slipped my mind,” Dahlia whispered nonchalantly back. She took another sip of her drink, avoiding the look her dear friend was giving her.
“Do you remember when Idris agreed to do your short film? You called me before the ink was dry on the paper.”
“I did.”
“And when Brad came on board for Victory you sent me a text message as the man was signing.”
“And your point?” Dahlia queried.
“You have a meeting with the black James Bond, the man agrees to be in your film and I only find out after the contracts are delivered and I find out from Guy and the delivery guy. That doesn’t sound out of the norm to you?”
Dahlia shrugged as a wide grin filled her face. “Okay, so maybe it’s a little unusual.”