Hollywood Flirt - Alexa Aston Page 0,10

house when he needed a haircut. How could she not know who he was?

Whoever she was, she was hot. Despite the sleek navy business suit and conservative shell under it that made her look totally establishment. Despite the dull brown hair, which didn’t seem to go with the rest of her. The remaining package?

It was everything he liked.

She was very tall and at six-three, he liked a tall woman. She had flawless, incandescent skin. Green eyes the color of summer grass that popped. Without a doubt, she possessed the most kissable mouth he’d seen in a long time. He already itched to put his lips next to hers and take them for a spin.

“Who are you?” he replied, turning the tables back to her. Maybe she was Monty Revere’s personal assistant. Or accountant. She sure as hell wasn’t his housekeeper—but Dash would love to play house with her. Anytime.

“I asked first.” She eyeballed him calmly but he saw the pulse point jump in her throat. Despite her cool and collected outside, he had an effect on this woman.

“Who would you like me to be?” he asked, mimicking Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.

“Are you serious? You’re flirting with me? I don’t believe this.” Her eye roll would put any teenage girl to shame.

“Oh, baby, you’d know if I was flirting with you,” he teased, his interest in her growing by the minute. Dash was never interested in women. They were always interested in him.

She jerked the box from his hands and shoved the money at his chest. The minute she touched him, electric sparks shot through him like he’d never imagined.

Her eyes went wide. Her jaw dropped slightly. Ah, she must’ve felt it, too.

Dash put his hand over hers, which was still next to his chest. “I did pay for the pizza so I can take this off your hands.” He turned her hand over as her fingers involuntarily opened. He plucked the bills from her palm. Her hand fell away then grabbed the pizza again. He saw her fingers tighten on the box, which now acted as a barrier between them. Good thing because it made him think twice about moving closer to her.

He slipped the money in his pocket. “Did Monty order pizza for our meeting?”

“Meeting?” she echoed, her brow creasing.

“I’m here to talk with him about his new film.”

“Oh, no. I can’t believe I forgot,” a voice behind the woman said. Monty Revere appeared behind her. “Hello, Dash. I see you’ve met my daughter.”

Daughter? Dash dug far into his brain and came up with an image from his teenage years.

“You’re The Wild Child?” he blurted out.

With those words, a mask fell over her face. He’d definitely said the wrong thing. He remembered her because they were the same age. Sydney Revere’s image had been splashed everywhere a decade ago, maybe longer. Running with a fast crowd. Hitting all the cool nightclubs. Getting into all kinds of scrapes. Then she married his idol—Craig Thompson—who was old enough to be her father. They’d been in a fatal car accident not long after. Dash had been crushed by the news that Craig had died.

But The Wild Child? He didn’t remember hearing or reading anything about her after that. It was as if she dropped off the celebrity merry-go-round. He knew she’d survived the wreck but he couldn’t think of one mention of her since then.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “It’s just that Craig Thompson was someone I really looked up to. Someone I wanted to be like. I know you married him.” He shrugged as he looked her up and down. “You’re the opposite of wild.”

“You’re right about that,” she said frostily. Her words could’ve pushed all of LA into a new ice age. She turned without another word and walked away with the pizza box.

Dash couldn’t help but grin as he watched the gentle sway of her hips.

“You’ve done it now,” Monty said. “Oh, well. You might as well come in. I don’t think it could get worse.” He indicated for Dash to enter so he did.

Monty said, “I really forgot you were coming by. Sydney called from Boston earlier today and told me she was coming home.”

Dash saw tears well in the director’s eyes.

“She . . . she hasn’t been home since she was seventeen. We haven’t spoken in years. And when she called out of the blue?”

“I get it,” Dash said. “I don’t want to ruin your reunion. We can do this another time.”

“Actually, Sydney’s going to be working