Phantom's Touch: Sexy Paranormal (Book 2, Phantom Series) Read Free Page B

ago. “Technically, I’m not on the set. I’m in my favorite rehearsal room.”
    “The one with all the weapons,” he pointed out, attempting to look over her shoulder, but at five-foot-nine, Lauren had a few inches on the guy. Tightening her grip on the door, she blocked his view.
    “We’re shooting the first fight scene the day after tomorrow,” she explained in a whisper that echoed in the cavernous silence of the soundstage just behind him. Though filled with lighting, sets and equipment, the building was off-limits to everyone but security until morning. Lauren had come here on autopilot, figuring Ross wouldn’t think to look for her on the set when filming hadn’t yet started. “I just wanted to get in some more workout time.”
    “Without your trainer?”
    Lauren suppressed a smirk. “I’ve done how many of these Athena movies now, Marco? I could train the trainer.”
    Marco snorted. “You could kick my ass, and I’m the one carrying the gun.”
    She squeezed her arm through the opening and then laid her hand on Marco’s shoulder. “That’s about the nicest thing any man has ever said to me.”
    She batted her eyelashes, which made Marco laugh and forgive her trespassing, despite the item he may or may not realize she’d lifted from the film producer’s private study. Well, it used to be her study, too. She’d shared his home, his bed and—at least on paper—his last name until a year ago, when she’d caught him fucking her ingénue costar in the cabana by the pool.
    The divorce had been relatively quick and pain free, the final decree having been delivered just that morning, severing their marital bond. Thanks to Ross, she’d learned how to manage her own money, so she wouldn’t be returning to the streets anytime soon. California law and an ironclad prenup had taken care of the rest. She got the town house in Beverly Hills. He kept the Malibu beach house. She got Apollo, the dog whose favorite pastime was chewing on Ross’s Bruno Maglis, and he’d taken the art. All the art. Including, unfortunately, the magnificent sword he’d purchased for her from a shady Dresden antiques dealer in a dicey part of the bustling German town.
    From the moment she’d caught sight of the intricate inlaid gold handle glittering above a polished steel blade, she’d wanted it. Needed it. The tug in her chest had instantly reminded her of her days on the streets, when she’d been so hungry that her entire body ached. And Ross, so magnanimous and generous (she’d thought at the time), had paid the exorbitant price in cash to appease her ravenous need for the weapon. But then he’d snatched the prize away before she’d even touched it, insisting that the sword had to be authenticated before anyone handled it.
    Once the ancient weapon had arrived in Los Angeles with papers declaring it an amazingly designed double-edged sword likely forged in the eighteenth century, he’d immediately had it sealed in a glass case.
    The familiar pull of the sword forced her to cut her conversation with Marco short.
    “Thanks for not snitching on me,” she said hopefully. “I think I owe you another case of that Australian wine your wife likes so much.”
    He frowned deeply at first, glanced at his watch, and then patted his nightstick.
    “You don’t have to do that, Ms. Cole,” he answered.
    “Don’t you have your daughter’s wedding coming up? I bet that wine would be perfect for the rehearsal dinner.”
    His grin returned, and after assuring her that no one would interrupt her private workout session, he left. She released the breath caught in her chest, then relocked the door. It was barely midnight. She had at least until five a.m. to figure out what the heck she was going to do next.
    Because stealing the sword was one thing. Keeping it was something else entirely.
    She slid across the mat and dropped to her knees again. At Ross’s house, she’d barely had time to remove it from the case, wrap it in the