Part 37 (2/2)
The air seemed to go out of Milton.
”What do you want?” the formerly puffed-up twerp asked.
”I want every picture you have of Ross Grant. All negatives, digi-cards, anything. And I want all your notes.”
Milton nodded.
”By the end of today,” Mo finished.
He gave a resigned little salute.
”And, Milton, if any article appears, with or without your byline, in the National Star, the Savannah Tribune or, any other media outlet- even the Podunk Shopper-about Ross Grant and any of this mess, I'll see that these interesting wildlife photos go directly to Mrs. Milton.”
The reporter pivoted on one heel and marched out. As he pa.s.sed Harry, he gave her a hard glare.
When he was gone, Mo hugged Leo ferociously. ”You are the best brother a girl could have. How did you know I would need those?”
”You told me to see if I could find something on the convention footage yesterday. Remember?”
”But you brilliantly ignored me when I said to forget it.” Mo grinned and stepped back to gather the photos into a folder.
”What have you done, Mo?” Harry's expression was as harsh as her tone.
Mo glanced up, folder in hand. ”I did what I had to do to protect Ross.”
Harry opened her mouth, but Mo interrupted before she could speak.
”I know, boss. You told me not to mess with him.”
”And didn't I say I'd have to-” Harry began.
”You don't have to fire me, I quit.” As Mo said the words, it was as if a ton of potatoes had been lifted from her chest. Even though it meant her financial problems would get even worse, Mo knew it was for the best.
Her boss blinked at the statement. ”I didn't mean I was actually firing you.”
”That's okay, because I actually quit.” Mo marveled at the lightness she felt. She'd wanted to win Harry's approval and get that bonus for so long. But now quitting felt great. ”It's okay, Harry. No hard feelings.”
”Mo-”
Not stopping to hear what she had to say, Mo strode to the door. ”I gotta go see Ross.”
The only black cloud hanging in the horizon of her mind was the reaction Ross had to Milton's planned article. She needed to get to him as soon as possible to tell him that the story was dead. His film financing was safe.
Just as he arrived at the hotel, his cell trilled.
”Aaron,” Ross said. ”I'm glad you called. I have some news. I'm not sure whether it's good or bad.”
”Tell me later because I know I have good news.” The agent's voice was gleeful.
Plopping down on the sofa, Ross propped his feet on the coffee table. ”Good news?”
”You're performance in the parade is already the talk of Hollywood.”
”That was no performance-” Ross began, but Aaron cut him off.
”Whatever it was, boyo, it's made you hot, hot, hot,” the agent said breathlessly. ”I just talked to the producer of the SpyMatrix sequel and they are totally behind you as the star. Multi-million dollar payday too.”
”Really?” Ross asked. A thrill like a shot of adrenaline directly to the heart coursed through him. He'd been striving for this for the last ten years. He hadn't wanted to do a sequel but no one could deny the power it would give Ross in the industry. ”No handing the torch off to someone younger?”
”Absolutely not,” Aaron answered. ”I gotta hand it to you. For somebody who didn't want to ride a parade float, you certainly did it with a genius touch.”
In the end, Mo couldn't resist going home to shower and change before locating Ross. She had to feel s.e.xy and attractive for this conversation. She might need every bit of feminine wiles in her a.r.s.enal.
Mo wiped nervously sweaty palms on her black skirt as she approached Ross's hotel room door. Her bare legs were newly shaved. She'd topped the outfit with a silky cream-colored blouse with faux pearl b.u.t.tons. Her hair was loose and curly around her shoulders.
Reaching the door to the room, she inhaled deeply before knocking. This was it.
Ross opened it almost immediately. His cell phone was to his ear and when he saw her he smiled. ”I'll call you back later, Aaron,” Ross said. ”We'll see about the sequel.” He cut off the call, jammed the cell in his pocket before tugging Mo inside. ”I was just about to call you.”
”Really? What were you about to call me?” Mo asked wryly as the door shut behind her.
Ross laughed as he sat down on the sofa and pulled Mo into his lap.
”I have something to tell you,” Mo said.
Ross kissed her, stopping her words. ”You don't have to say anything.”
Reluctantly, she pulled back. ”Ross. This is serious. I need to tell you something important. It's about Milton.”
”Milton doesn't matter. His story doesn't matter,” he said, kissing her neck. His hand went to the b.u.t.tons of her blouse and began unfastening each pearly b.u.t.ton.
Mo couldn't resist. She had to take a sip of his lips. She tugged at his hair to bring his head back up so she could put her mouth on his. She felt the sides of her blouse open. His hand found the strap of her bra and slipped it down her shoulder. She was quickly losing conscious thought to the sensations of the moment.
No. She jerked her head back. ”No, Ross, we need to talk first.”
”It isn't necessary. I don't care about Milton,” he said, his eyes glazed. ”I released the story about what happened in the last few days to a guy at People magazine. I just got off the phone with him before my agent called. He's sending someone over for photos. The story will be national by next week. Let Milton put his version in the tabloids. It won't matter.”
His head bent to take a nip at her breast and she tugged him back up. ”What? I thought you'd feel humiliated.”
”Doesn't matter. You matter,” he said seriously.
”Yesterday you said even an accurate version of events could ruin your financing.”
”If it does it does. There will be another film.”
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