The Spiral Path Read Free

knew
exactly who Marguerite was. She even booked sessions with a dialect coach to
help her create an alluring French accent, and a movement coach to teach her to
curtsy and dance in proper eighteenth-century style.
    As
she arrived at the studio, one of Hollywood's hottest young female stars was
leaving the audition room. Well, she hadn't expected the competition to be
easy.
    As
always on such occasions, the room was full of people evaluating her as if she
were a slab of overdone steak. She recognized the film's director, two
producers, a famous casting director, and half a dozen executive types.
    The
director, Jim Gomolko, looked as if he'd bitten into something sour when he
told her to go ahead with the test scene. But she'd come prepared. Dressed in a
flowing dress with a period flavor, she curtsied gracefully to the executives,
using her carefully practiced French accent as she thanked them for their kind
consideration.
    An
expressionless male assistant fed her lines as she performed the scene where
Marguerite first meets Sir Percy. She began the scene coolly, for as the most
acclaimed actress in Paris Marguerite was used to men wanting to bed her. She'd
learned to keep admirers at a distance.
    Yet
there was something about this Englishman, a hint of steel beneath his languid
manners and wicked wit. As the scene progressed she gradually realized that
this was a man of surprising depths and passions, one who could keep a woman
intrigued...
    When
she finished her reading, the executives were nodding approval. Gomolko said,
"I want you to read again with someone else, Ms. Marlowe."
    One
of the suits spoke into a cell phone and five minutes later Kenzie Scott ambled
into the room. Rainey caught her breath, electrified. Though Scott was rumored
to be on board for Pimpernel, her agent had told her the deal wasn't set
yet.
    Rainey
had kept her fingers crossed because she was a great admirer of Kenzie Scott's
work. And--well, of his looks, too, she was only human. But even more, she
respected his acting. Though she preferred his early work, before he'd become a
major star, he brought depth and nuance to even the most macho action roles.
    He
looked across the room at her as if she was the most fascinating, desirable
woman he'd ever seen. Every cell in her body kicked into overdrive. Tall, dark,
and charismatic, he was almost supernaturally handsome. He was often mentioned
in the same breath with Cary Grant, and not only because of his chiseled
features and the faint cleft in his chin. The real similarity lay in his easy,
aristocratic British charm. On screen he could project strength, intelligence,
wit, vulnerability--all at once if the role called for it. Those qualities were
strikingly vivid in person.
    Kenzie
bowed, a perfect Georgian gentleman despite his khakis and polo shirt.
"Mademoiselle St. Just, your performance tonight was brilliant."
    With
a pang of regret she realized that the admiration in those amazing green eyes
was because he was in character. Since he was working from memory, she slid
into Marguerite. Recklessly she tossed her script over her shoulder, pages
fluttering to the floor while she prayed she'd remember her lines.
    She
responded to Kenzie's dazzled Sir Percy by playing the scene ardently instead
of the coolness of her first reading. They were from different nations,
different ways of life. To a loyal daughter of France, this languid aristocrat
was all she was taught to despise, while she was an actress, a woman to be
bedded, not wed. Yet they both were caught up in a blazing attraction too
powerful to deny, no matter how much it cost them.
    When
they finished the scene, the executives were sitting upright in their chairs.
One of the producers muttered, "Jesus, who knew she was so hot?"
    Gomolko
made a rueful face. "You were right, Kenzie, she's Marguerite. You've got
your deal. Do you want the part, Ms. Marlowe?"
    "Yes!"
    "I'll
contact your agent right away to work out the details."
    As
she stammered her