Stark Bradford had a knack for pushing all of her buttons. It almost seemed like he was doing it on purpose too, which didn’t bode well for his intelligence. Who pissed off the one person there to protect them?
Of course, it didn’t help that he was standing there dressed in nothing but a teeny, tiny Speedo that left nothing to the imagination. Except for the very fake version of an AK-47 slung over his shoulder, he looked like he’d just stepped off the glossy pages of a Men’s Health magazine. Most of the women and a good number of the men on set could barely drag their eyes away from what he had on display…including Wyntir. And that made it tough to concentrate on her job.
Which was not being a nanny!
Unfortunately, after she’d mentioned Stark’s insulting idea to Charlie, he’d warmed to it instantly. His argument was that her pretending to be a nanny would hide her true mission, giving her the cover she needed to watch both Bradfords without drawing suspicion that she was actually private security. Her boss actually used the word “brilliant” and then had the audacity to suggest she consider her new role to be an acting challenge.
While it was true that bodyguards often pretended to be someone they weren’t for the sake of an assignment, none of that made her feel any better about the situation, no matter how good it was to practice such scenarios. Not that she had a choice in the matter. So, she squished down all of her tough-bitch instincts and mustered a tepid smile at Stark’s director, lifting her hand in a half-hearted wave.
Her biggest practical objection—beyond abject humiliation—was that she wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on Stark if everyone assumed she should be hanging at home with the kid. He’d outright laughed at her suggestion that both Bradfords stay home for the foreseeable future. The production was on a tight shooting schedule and he couldn’t be gone for more than a day without the shit hitting the fan. With no overt threat to their lives, she didn’t have much of a leg to stand on to argue with him about it.
They compromised by creating a cover story that Blaise was shadowing his dad on set for a while to learn the ropes of filmmaking. Wyntir could then keep a close eye on them both while going along with his scheme to pretend she was the nanny. Sounded doable at the time, but her first day on set was proving the plan wasn’t without its hiccups, mainly due to Stark sneaking away just to piss her off. The last time had prompted a frantic five-minute search before she’d found him at the craft services table, diving into a plate of fruit and cheese.
“Good lord, I feel like I’m herding cats,” she’d hissed at him, dragging Blaise along behind her.
“What? I missed breakfast,” he’d said with a ridiculously innocent look. Then he tipped a quick wink at his son, who broke into delighted giggles.
It didn’t help that the boy thought his dad could do no wrong. A good thing overall, no doubt about it, but when she was trying to protect two people, their colluding to mess with her didn’t sit well.
Luckily, Blaise was one of the most laid-back kids she’d ever met. Every time she ran around to track down Stark—three times in as many hours—he followed along like a good boy. He was intensely curious about her job and the fact she was a dragon, and his questions were thoughtful and intelligent. Wyntir wasn’t normally a kid-person, but Stark was raising a good one. She had to give him that much.
But the man’s energy level was boundless, and it was clear he was most definitely a people-person. He knew the name of every production assistant, every makeup artist, every gaffer—whatever that was—and every single one of them seemed genuinely happy to see him. Wyntir couldn’t deny Stark was charming as hell, in addition to being sexy as hell, but none of that made her job any easier. In fact, just the opposite, especially when her body seemed so drawn to him.
But of course, most people on set were, judging by the appreciative looks he garnered. On top of that, he was one of the highest-grossing movie stars of their generation. He was a household name. People respected him simply for being famous. And why wouldn’t they? He had everything going for him, and that kind of seemingly effortless success was captivating.
And there seemed to be no end to the people eager to steal a little bit of his time. Wyntir was nearly going cross-eyed trying to keep up with him and subtly supervise each interaction. She’d spent the whole morning trailing after him like a loyal lapdog, which was not a role she often played.
“Wyntir,” Blaise said, tugging on her hand to draw her attention away from his father. “Could we get some ice cream?”
She glanced down and the boy was staring at the craft services area, where she knew a soft-serve ice cream unit was located. Poor kid. He’d probably been on a hundred sets in his life and he was mostly likely bored out of his skull. He’d been such a good sport, so she decided to risk leaving Stark with his director for a few minutes.
“Chocolate, vanilla or swirl?” the craft services woman asked him.
“Swirl!” he replied instantly with a grin as bright as the sun. Every kid liked the swirl.
“What about you, hon?”
“None for me,” Wyntir said, grabbing a wad of napkins so Blaise wouldn’t drip all over himself.
Dammit, she was taking her role a little too seriously.
They wandered back to where they’d left Stark chatting with his director, but he’d disappeared. Again!
“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”
The director frowned at her, glancing pointedly at Blaise. Oh right, most nannies probably didn’t curse in front of their charges. She smiled an apology and grabbed the boy’s sticky hand.
“Come on, Blaise. We have to find your father.”
“Disappeared again, huh?” Blaise said between licks on his cone.
“Seems he’s got a natural talent for it.”
They trotted all over the sprawling film set searching for Stark. No one in wardrobe had seen him, despite his need to put some damn clothes on, and the craft services lady just shrugged. Wyntir imagined the lecture she’d get from Charlie for losing her charge so quickly but just then she finally spotted the nearly nude man in a secluded corner of the soundstage. To her total lack of surprise, he wasn’t alone.
The woman he was speaking with had to be one of the most stunning creatures Wyntir had ever seen. Tall with a willowy frame, her long black hair fell down her back in luscious waves. Green, catlike eyes contrasted in the most breathtaking way with her soft brown skin. They stood far too close together for Wyntir’s liking—professional liking, of course—their heads just inches apart, and their combined beauty nearly knocked her over. Somehow she managed to maintain her balance as she stalked up to them, Blaise in tow.
“Daddy!” Blaise broke free and ran to his father, who scooped him up in his arms, not seeming to care about the ice cream dripping all over his bare chest. Wyntir could only think about licking it up.
“You found me,” he laughed and then turned his smile on Wyntir.
“Against your best efforts,” she muttered stonily, turning her gaze on his companion.
“This is Alexa Valentine,” he said. “She’s my co-star.”
“Love interest, I assume?” Wyntir said with a frozen smile.
Alexa broke into a brilliant smile. “Yes, actually. And you are?”