“I’m also a brother.” He moved closer. “A son.” Closer still, so close that she could almost feel his breath on her upturned face. “A friend.” She was mesmerized by the color of his eyes, so dark now that the blue was almost black. “And I hope to be a father one day, too.”

She couldn’t keep the breath from whooshing out of her lungs as he hit her right in the center of her softest spot. She could have defended herself against cocky or sexy or confident.

But how could she protect herself against family?

“Why me?” She wasn’t asking to fish for compliments. She truly was confused. “You could have any woman on set. Any woman on the street. Any woman anywhere.”

“You’re smart. Beautiful. Great at your job. Devoted to your sister. You have a knack for solving puzzles and I like you, Valentina.” He paused before adding, “I want you, too. Very, very much.”

His honesty floored her. But so did the knowledge that at least a dozen actors had likely said similar things to her mother in the years since her father had died. And every time her mother had given in, what had it left her with except an increasingly broken spirit...and heart?

Valentina told herself she was being just as honest as she said, “You can’t have me.”

Because she knew that if she was stupid enough to actually go out with Smith, that if she was even stupider about letting herself fall for him, she would only be setting herself up for complete and utter emotional destruction.

Case in point: Smith and Tatiana would be filming a love scene together in a few weeks. It was going to be hard enough to watch her sister bare herself to the cameras like that. But if Valentina were foolish enough to let Smith into her bed and her heart during filming, she couldn’t even begin to imagine how difficult—how impossible—it would be to sit quietly in the background and watch Smith kiss, touch, caress another woman. Especially when she still hadn’t been able to forget how it had felt to be in his arms for those few minutes when they’d talked about their families in front of the fire in his living room.

A shiver ran through her as she took a step away from the window, and from Smith. When she felt there was enough distance between them for her head to remain clear, she said, “We’re going to be working together for the next few months. I don’t want to make things hard on anyone on set, especially my sister, if she thinks you or I have a problem with each other.” She wasn’t teasing him, wasn’t trying to be a challenge he couldn’t resist as she asked, “Can’t we just be friends?”

At last, she could feel his frustration rumble through the trailer, no longer, it seemed, the perfectly-in-control man he usually was.

Oh, why did witnessing that brief loss of control have to make him even more appealing? And why did she want to see it again, only next time while they were talking less...and kissing more?

“Of course we’ll be friends,” he said in a soft voice that caressed her just as well as any touch of his hand would have. “We already are.”

Her pleasure at that statement came swift and warm through her veins. So, unfortunately, did the instant disappointment that he’d given up so easily. Of course it was what she wanted. And yet, evidently a part of her had been hoping for more.

Only, it turned out that both her pleasure and disappointment were to be short-lived as he held her prisoner with his dark gaze. “But just because I’m your friend doesn’t mean I’ve stopped wanting you, too.”

Even worse, she thought as he made an exit as good as anything he’d won an Oscar for, it didn’t make her stop wanting him.

And as Valentina sank down into her office chair, she realized—too late—the extent of her mistake.

She should have grabbed seduction, desire, with both hands.

Seduction would just have been her body. Desire would simply have been two people making each other feel good in bed. She could easily have written off a roll in the hay.

But friendship involved her heart.

As she buried her head in her hands, all she could think was, Why couldn’t I have been smart and just slept with him?

Chapter Six

As filming kicked into high gear, the hours on the set grew longer for everyone. There weren’t action scenes to choreograph and memorize. There weren’t digital effects to render. Nor were there hours in makeup or costume.

But there was emotion.

So much emotion from Smith and Tatiana as they played two characters who loved and lost, then learned how to love again, that just watching them act out their parts over the past week had been leaving Valentina drained and empty at the end of the day.

How, she wondered for the hundredth time, did they do it?

And yet, a part of her envied them that freedom to yell and laugh and cry and love all in the course of a workday. Because for all her hard work on set, Tatiana always shook off the harsh emotions within minutes of the director saying “Cut,” as if her day had been akin to a cleansing therapy session.

These past weeks, Valentina had been turning more and more to her own secret project as a way to deal with the emotions churning around and around inside her. Tatiana was the only person who knew that Valentina was working on a screenplay about a female writer who woke up one day and found herself actually living out the story she was writing…including falling in love with the fictional hero she had created.

Tatiana had been trying for months now to convince her to send it out to some of their contacts. But even though Valentina knew this was a logical next step in the Hollywood career of someone who loved the stories but not the limelight, she’d also known her script wasn’t quite ready. Amazingly, it was after going through Smith’s screenplay backward and forward with Tatiana at least a dozen times that Valentina finally realized where the holes were in her own work. And she knew that the changes she’d been making were good ones. Really good ones. Because she’d been lucky enough to learn from Smith what it took to make a truly emotional, impactful film.

And as she sat with the crew and watched Smith play his part of the harshly powerful yet disturbed and guilty businessman, her heart squeezed tight in her chest. When the movie was released in theaters, the audience would see every single one of his emotions in his eyes, in the set of his mouth, and the lines on his forehead. And they would know without a doubt that the girl on the street he’d pushed down and stepped on, had haunted him more and more with every day that passed.

Again and again, he’d gone back to Union Square, to the corner to watch for her, to wait for her. More than once as he’d been standing in the middle of the rushing crowds, a call had come in on his cell phone from a brother. A sister. His mother. But he’d never picked up those calls.