Part 11 (2/2)

There was a stunned silence for a long beat, then, good friends that they were, Sadie and Grace stepped into the breach.

”I totally understand. You're really into your career right now, you don't want to be distracted,” Sadie said. ”Your contract is up for renewal soon, you want to put your best foot forward. Being producer is a big job.”

”Just because you know what you want doesn't mean you're afraid,” Grace said.

Claudia made a rude sound in the back of her throat. It was bull, and they all knew it. She'd been using work and the contest of wills between her and Leandro and the conflict of interest issue as convenient excuses to mask her true feelings. When she was with him, she felt on fire, out of control. And she was a woman who prided herself on being in control of herself and her life. She had a five-year plan, a ten-year plan. She knew what she wanted to be-and Leandro had no place in any of it.

Standing, she reached for her car keys. She'd never backed down from a challenge in her life. She might be scared of the intensity of her reaction to him, but that didn't mean she couldn't conquer it, control it, the way she had everything else life had ever thrown at her.

”What are you doing, Claud?” Sadie asked as Claudia s.n.a.t.c.hed up her handbag as well.

”I'm not a chicken,” she said through gritted teeth, already on her way out the door.

”Claud,” Grace called urgently.

Despite the fact that every cell in her body was focused on proving something to herself and Leandro, Claudia forced herself to pivot on her heel.

”Yep?”

”You might need this,” Grace said, pulling out something she had tucked inside her bra.

Claudia automatically caught the s.h.i.+ny silver packet: a single condom, still warm from Grace's body heat.

”Just in case,” Grace said.

”Why do you have a condom in your bra?” Sadie asked dryly, c.o.c.king her head at her friend.

”Just in case,” Grace repeated, deadpan.

CLAUDIA PURPOSELY DIDN'T think as she drove across town to where Heartlands was filmed. She certainly didn't acknowledge the tremble of trepidation in the pit of her stomach.

As she'd said to her friends, she was no chicken, and she'd do whatever it took to prove it.

Including giving in to her secret desire to have Leandro Mandalor again, no matter how much that challenged her view of her life and her future.

She didn't bother waiting for the receptionist to buzz her through when she arrived. A long time ago she'd interviewed for an a.s.sistant's role on the show, and she had a rough idea of the office layout.

”I'll show myself through,” she rea.s.sured the receptionist blithely as she sailed past.

It seemed only fair to ambush him, since he'd ambushed her every day so far.

She paused on the other side of reception and scanned the office area quickly. She spotted his office to her left, smiling a feline smile of satisfaction when she saw he was holding an open-door meeting with two of his staff.

They'd have an audience-perfect.

Chin high, she strode toward his office, her gaze pinned to his downturned head. He glanced up when she was still several paces from his doorway, and she saw the arrested expression in his eyes as he sat back in his chair.

She'd surprised him. Even more perfect.

”Claudia,” he said when she arrived on the threshold.

But she didn't stop there. Ignoring the eye-popping stares of his staff, she rounded his desk, slid her hands around his neck and into his thick, dark hair, and lowered her mouth to his to deliver her best take-no-prisoners, tongue-till-Tuesday French kiss.

For a second he froze, and she felt an intense thrill of satisfaction. Scared, her a.s.s! Then she lost her balance as he tugged her into his lap, taking control of the kiss now as he bent her back over his arm, completely disregarding the two members of his team who were probably taking notes on every nuance of their lip-lock.

He crushed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to his chest, his tongue telling her in no uncertain terms what he'd like to do to the rest of her. Her body was more than up for it, already aching for his touch. Beneath her b.u.t.t, she felt the distinct, arousing firmness of his burgeoning erection, and she gave a feminine murmur of approval.

He'd so successfully scrambled her brains and hijacked her purpose that she was about to slide her hand down onto his crotch when someone in the room cleared their throat. She stiffened as she remembered where she was, what she was doing, and who was watching her.

Leandro reluctantly broke their kiss, and she was eternally grateful for the fact that he slid a hand onto the nape of her neck and held her face against his shoulder, guarding her privacy, as he spoke to his people.

”I'm going to take an early lunch, guys,” he said in an admirably deadpan tone. ”I'll leave you to decide between the two actors on our short list, okay? I'm happy with either.”

”Sure thing, boss,” someone said, and then Claudia heard the scuff of feet and the shuffle of papers as they made themselves scarce.

”It's times like these I hate the interior designer who made these offices out of Plexiglas,” Leandro murmured ruefully as he ran a hand over her hip.

”Do you really think I'm going to go at it with you in your office after that display we just put on?” Claudia asked, desperately trying to cover how good it felt to be in his arms again, how much she'd craved his taste, his touch.

”Thirty seconds ago, you were about to,” he reminded her.

Aware that he was smiling like a particularly self-satisfied Ches.h.i.+re cat, Claudia pushed against his arms, trying to win her way free of his lap. It was one thing to take up his challenge, and another thing to put herself entirely in his hands. Leandro just grinned and tipped his chair back, overbalancing her into his chest again.

”Let me up,” she demanded.

”Not until you tell me why you're here,” he said.

”You want me to draw a diagram?” she asked.

”I want to hear you admit I was right,” he said, grinning down into her face.

Yeah, right, she was going to admit she'd been afraid of the powerful connection between them. She might be in his lap, but she wasn't brain-dead. She grinned right back at him.

”Not a chance in h.e.l.l, pal.” She slid a hand between their bodies, finding the undeniable evidence that his need was a powerful as hers. Confident that his desk and computer s.h.i.+elded them from the general office view, she rubbed him through his jeans.

”Now, are you going to do something with this or are we going to argue for the rest of my lunch break?”

6.

HE HAD HER OUTSIDE the production office and standing by the elevator bank in about five seconds flat. She smiled to herself as she noted the way he was holding his jacket draped in front of his body, conveniently masking the tent pole in his pants.

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