The Spiral Path (3 page)

Rainey had been
jubilant when her agent called to ask her to read for the part of Marguerite
St. Just in
The Scarlet Pimpernel.
Though she loved making small, quirky
movies and had built a decent career with them,
Pimpernel
was the
big-time: big budget, big names, and a rousing classic story.

She
immersed herself in the script for days before her audition, until she 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 thanks, the room erupted with excited talk, leaving her and
Kenzie in a small zone of privacy. Now that they weren't acting together, she
felt shy with him. Reminding herself that soon they'd be rolling around on a
mattress together, she asked, "What did Gomolko mean about the deal?"

He
smiled, tanned skin crinkling around his eyes. "I told him I wouldn't take
the part unless you were cast as Marguerite."

No
wonder the director had regarded her with misgivings--he'd been afraid he might
have to choose between the actor he wanted and an actress he didn't want.
"Then I owe you quite a thank-you. Why did you want me in particular?
We've never even met."

"I've
seen most of your work, and knew you were right for Marguerite."

She
groaned. "Please don't tell me you saw
Biker Babes from Hell."

He
laughed. "That movie proved you could handle Marguerite's adventurous
side. But I was already convinced. You should have won that Oscar for
Home
Free."

She
thought of the awards ceremony wistfully. Attending dressed to kill and not
showing a shred of disappointment when she didn't win had been a major test of
acting skill. "There was a strong field of nominees."

"You
were the best." He touched her hair with gossamer delicacy. "This
red-gold is your natural color?"

She
shivered, a little breathless. "Yes, but usually I play drab, worthy
brunettes."

"The
time has come for you to play a glamorous woman of the world, Raine."

"People
who know me well call me Rainey."

He
repeated that in his beautiful deep voice. He'd trained at RADA--the Royal
Academy of Dramatic Art in London--which gave him an unfair advantage, she
thought dizzily. Earlier he'd been Sir Percy admiring Marguerite, but his
expression now made it clear he hadn't insisted on her for this movie solely
because of her acting.

So
be it. She'd attained success through discipline and unrelenting work, not
wasting her time on high-profile affairs to get her name into the gossip
columns. But a life without occasional recklessness wasn't worth living. Kenzie
Scott was gorgeous, likable, and attraction crackled between them like a
high-voltage current. If they had a fling, it would be by mutual choice.

How
much simpler life would have been if he'd only wanted an affair...

CHAPTER 2

K
enzie warmed
up in the gym as Rainey changed in the dressing room. He was insane to listen
to her proposal, but when she'd marched into his bedroom, cool as an ice queen,
he'd been struck with such longing that he'd have agreed to anything to keep
her there a little longer.

He
was on the elliptical cross-trainer when she joined him. Her lovely apricot
hair tied back, she was dangerously attractive in a spangled green leotard and
tights that revealed every inch of her slight, elegantly proportioned and toned
figure.

They'd
shared countless exercise sessions in the last three years. An actor's body was
a primary tool of expression and required relentless work to maintain. The
grueling fitness regimen had been a lot more fun when Rainey shared the
sessions, bantering, discussing the news of the day, and improving the scenery.
Now and then discipline had gone out the window and they'd exerted themselves
differently, teasing and laughing until they ended up in a sweaty, relaxed
tangle of limbs.

As
she began her warm-up stretches, he said, "Tell me about your movie."

"It's
based on an obscure Victorian novel that I fell in love with years ago."
She bent over and placed her palms flat on the floor. "The Centurion was
written by a fellow called George Sherbourne who'd been an army officer in
strange corners of the British Empire. It was considered strong stuff when it
was published, practically treasonous, so it never became well-known."

"What's
the book about?"

"Torture,
guilt, and despair. The high price of empire for the soldiers who do the dirty
work in distant, dangerous places. The saving power of love."

"What's
the storyline?"

She
sat, then locked her hands around her ankles and laid her forehead on her knees
for a slow stretch. "John Randall is a British Army captain in the 1870s.
Your classical hero--strong, absolutely sure of himself, a little arrogant. A
decent fellow, but not exactly a deep thinker. On leave home, he falls in love
with a young neighbor, Sarah Masterson. Since she's the prettiest girl around,
naturally he feels he deserves her, while she's dazzled by him. They become
engaged, and he promises to leave the army and take up life as a landed
gentleman after one last campaign in North Africa."