Wild Honey Read Free Page B

forefinger. Her heart hammering, she lowered it fractionally and stopped as something took shape inside her, a tightening spiral of anxiety. It radiated into her belly, oddly exciting, wholly disturbing. She parted her lips, wetting their sudden dryness with a nervous dart of her tongue. With a shallow breath she lowered the zipper another inch and then her fingers locked, frozen stiff by the sensations inside her.
    He exhaled, his thumb working at his lower lip. “The idea of a sensual role frightens you, doesn’t it?” he said quietly.
    Sasha might have admitted the truth to anyone else but not to him. Her intuition was flooding her with signals, the strongest of which was that he already had decided against her for the part, whatever it was. Some sixth sense told her that he was testing her, pushing her to her limits, looking for a reason to reject her. The realization stirred her courage. “I’m an actress,” she said, her voice faint but firm. “And I’m not afraid of sensuality. If a role calls for it, I can be sexy. Believe it.”
    The only movement in the room was the blink of his eyes. Energy moved in their blue depths, mesmerizing energy.
    Sasha took a quick breath, and in the glance that passed between them, something unexpected happened, an unchecked impulse, quick and electric. She felt it like a hot wire to her nerves. Then her heart became a slow fuse, showering sparks, threatening to go off like a Fourth of July rocket. Stunned, she took a half step back.
    Marc felt the impulse too. It ran like a current through his muscles.
    Before either of them could speak, the door opened and a tall, graying man, trim in a navy blazer, walked into the room. He clapped Marc on the back in the jovial, placating gesture of a man who wanted everything to run smoothly. His gaze on Sasha, he spoke to Marc. “Well, what do you think? Will she work?”
    Sasha’s heart jerked as Marc looked at her. Apparently everything hinged on Marc’s opinion, and she found herself hoping, however foolishly, that she would work in Marc Renaud’s judgment.
    “Sorry, Paul,” he said to the studio’s head of production. “She’s a couple inches too tall. And she can’t take direction.”
    Paul’s face fell. “The height can be hidden.”
    Sasha’s first reaction was sharp disappointment. Her second was indignation. Can’t take direction? She drew the zipper of her leotard down several inches and pulled the ribbon from her braid. Combing her fingers into her hair, she loosened the plaits, shaking her head until a dazzling fall of white-gold hair shimmered around her face. “You wanted sexy, Mr. Renaud?” Tossing her head back, she drew herself up and met Marc’s gaze. Her mouth twitched with a devastating smile.
    Paul’s jaw went slack. “Marc, what’s wrong with you? She’s fabulous.”
    Stepping back, Marc acknowledged the golden firestorm of Sasha McCleod’s cascading hair. He knew unfettered loveliness when he saw it—and he knew trouble . Take me on, Mr. Renaud, her eyes seemed to say, if you’re up to the challenge. His blood stirring, he watched her amber irises become almost black...and felt his heartbeat accelerate. He’d almost forgotten the rush of excitement that came from dealing with someone like her, someone strong enough to challenge him.
    He scrutinized her carefully. Physically she was extraordinary, close to a perfect match, but it would be insanity to risk her on this picture, and he knew it. There was too much at stake. She was strong-willed, and his intuition told him she’d fight him every inch of the way. No, he couldn’t risk it.
    As he turned to an eager Paul Maxwell with the bad news, his final thought was of her eyes, the rich amber color of the wild honey he used to buy from the peasant farmers in l’Auvergne. Honey so drizzly warm, so sweet that the first taste always made his jaws ache.
    “What do you say, Marc?” Paul Maxwell prodded.
    Marc gestured toward the door. Drawing Paul