Seduced The Unexpected Virgin - By Emily McKay Page 0,41

while Ward was chatting with the star of a late-night show. As she left the bathroom, she ran into CeCe Hudson. Ana was surprised that the other woman even remembered her. Yes, they’d met only about an hour before, but surely she was just a face in the crowd of hundreds.

“How are you enjoying the party?” the petite brunette asked.

“It’s wonderful,” Ana enthused.

CeCe chuckled. “Liar. You’re miserable.”

“I—” Ana stammered.

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.” CeCe linked her arm through Ana’s and started to guide her toward the buffet. “I used to hate these kinds of things, too. But it goes with the territory, right? You date someone rich and powerful, you end up hanging out with the shallow and the vain.”

“I—” Ana fumbled for a response. Finally, she settled on, “Ward and I aren’t dating.”

CeCe slanted an assessing look at Ana. “Really?” She didn’t sound in the least bit convinced.

“Really. I’m only here to promote Hannah’s Hope.”

CeCe arched an eyebrow. “Naturally. Jack mentioned the benefit you’re thinking of throwing. Great idea, by the way.” They’d reached the buffet table and CeCe picked up a plate and pushed it into Ana’s hands. “Be sure to let me know if Hudson Pictures can do anything.”

“Thank you. That’s very generous.”

“Ward’s a good guy. It’s the least we can do for the woman he’s not dating.”

“We’re really not—”

But CeCe cut her off. “Hey, I’m all in favor of keeping things out of the press. Reporters can muck up anything, can’t they?”

“That’s certainly true,” Ana agreed. The press had a way of sticking their collective noses in at precisely the wrong time.

On the way into the party, they’d badgered Ward about whether or not he was returning to a musical career. They’d asked about the studio work he’d been doing and every time he’d tried to steer the conversation back to an up-and-coming musician whose album Ward was producing, they’d changed the subject. Nor did they let him talk much about Hannah’s Hope. Apparently, the media heard only what they wanted to hear.

The reporters’ persistence didn’t seem to bother Ward at all. He seemed oblivious to how invasive their questions were. Throughout the ordeal, he was as charming and relaxed as he was…well, at a party.

Almost as if she could read her thoughts, CeCe gave a little cringe. “Sorry about all the reporters outside the party. It used to be the Hudsons never allowed that. But now that we’re raising money for breast cancer research, we figure any press for the cause is a good thing. Besides, some people give more generously when it’s going to be on Entertainment Tonight.”

Ana and CeCe chatted for several minutes as they worked their way through the buffet line. Ana felt marginally more comfortable, but eventually, CeCe’s hostessing duties took her away and Ana was left on her own again.

She made her way back to Ward. Unfortunately, when she rounded the corner, she saw him talking to the one person she least expected. Ridley Sinclair. The supposed happily married star who had hit on her and then made her work life miserable.

Ridley Sinclair was a first-rate jerk. Her last job had been one misery after another because he was always on set. After all, his wife had been the star of the movie.

Ana never wanted to see him again. Yet, here they were. At the same party. And he was talking to Ward. And here she was, in the dress that had been made for his wife.

Annoyed, she ducked aside, standing on the outskirts of a nearby cluster of people, hoping to wait out the conversation before returning to Ward’s side. She didn’t intend to eavesdrop, but she could still hear their conversation.

“Hey, I noticed you were here with that costume designer,” Ridley slurred.

Ana gave a sidewise glance. Ward and Ridley were standing with their backs to her. They’d have to turn completely around to see her. She nearly left, but wanted to be nearby so she could sneak back to Ward’s side as soon as Ridley left.

Ridley held a drink in his hand, gesturing broadly and splashing the amber liquid. She wasn’t surprised that he was already drunk so early in the evening. What a jerk. How had she ever imagined Ward might be even remotely similar to him?

“What’s her name? Amanda something, right?” Ridley was asking.

“Ana,” Ward answered, his voice tight.

Ridley seemed not to hear the note of warning in Ward’s voice, because he kept talking. “Yeah. Ana. She worked on my last movie.”

The guy had maybe