Dear Reader,

I have to admit I’m fascinated by celebrities and all things Hollywood, so when I was invited to take part in the Hollywood Hills Clinic continuity I was thrilled! Having a screenwriter heroine was a dream, and I was able to indulge my interest in films and Los Angeles and the quirkiness of a place where things are rarely what they seem.

Of course having a grumpy doctor hero who just doesn’t understand the whole ‘celebrity thing’ was a perfect foil for a heroine who lives and breathes it. But sparks fly as neurosurgeon Jake has to learn how to navigate in a very foreign world. Both totally work-focused and ambitious, neither Lola nor Jake is looking for a relationship, so they fight the sparks all along the way!

I do hope you enjoy Jake and Lola’s story—and all the other books in the Hollywood Hills Clinic continuity.

I love to hear from readers, so do look me up on louisageorge.com. While you’re there sign up for my newsletter to get all my book news and release dates.

Happy reading!

Louisa x

Having tried a variety of careers in retail, marketing and nursing, LOUISA GEORGE is thrilled that her dream job of writing for Mills & Boon means she gets to go to work in her pyjamas. Louisa lives in Auckland, New Zealand, with her husband, two sons and two male cats. When not writing or reading Louisa loves to spend time with her family, enjoys traveling, and adores eating great food.

Tempted by Hollywood’s Top Doc

Louisa George

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my Zumba buddies Jackie, Sue, Roisel, Yenny and Avril.

I can’t think of a better way to start the day than dancing and having fun with friends.

I’m very lucky to have you guys in my life.

Thank you xx

Praise for Louisa George

‘The Last Doctor She Should Ever Date is a sweet, fun, yet deeply moving romance. This book just begs to be read, and I would definitely recommend this book and any other ones written by Louisa George to all contemporary romance fans.’

—Harlequin Junkie

Contents

Cover

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

Praise for Louisa George

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

‘LOLA! WHERE ARE YOU? Lola!’ The sing-song screech came from inside the trailer.

Outside the trailer, Lola Bennett came to a halt and took a long calming breath. When that ran out she took another one. And...

So, it seemed calm would be eluding her today.

Behind her she heard muttered grumbles between the director, the assistant producer and the leading man. Irrational though it was, she felt guilty that the woman who employed her was ramping up the film budget and delaying filming because of mild stomach cramps, no doubt brought on by an overdose of her large kale and wheatgrass breakfast smoothie.

Lucky, Lola told herself. Dream job. Steps to the stars. Foot in the door...

Phooey. Being personal assistant to A-lister Cameron Fontaine was probably some poor misguided soul’s dream job, but for Lola the constant demands were fast turning into a nightmare. Sometimes she thought the waitressing job had been preferable...but then all she had to do was look around her and breathe in the hallowed Hollywood air, see the actors going over their scripts—scripts like the one she was working on—and feel the shiver of excitement course through her. And she knew she was exactly where she wanted to be: Los Angeles. She was here, finally here. The only place on earth where she could achieve her crazy, wild dreams. The City of Angels.

All would be well, if only Cameron Fontaine could be remotely angelic. Once? Too much to ask?

‘Lola!’ Clearly there was nothing wrong with Miss Fontaine’s vocal cords.

‘Yes, Miss Fontaine?’ Lola swung open the trailer door, letting the heavily perfumed air—a perfect blend of cedarwood, frankincense, sandalwood and lemon balm aromatherapy for clarity and focus today—disperse enough for her to enter without risk of asphyxiation. Then she took a risk and stepped in, with her usual fixed smile. It would all work out well. Smile and work. Smile and work. ‘Hello! I hope you’re feeling better? Here’s the paracetamol you asked me to get. And your single-shot decaf latte with cashew milk.’

‘You are such a honey.’ The leading lady lay on the white leather couch, a hand at her brow, and gave a brave me smile. Lola had seen her working on that particular grimace in her large gilt bathroom mirror more than once. ‘Tell me, sweetie, what’s the gossip from the set? Are they panicking yet? I’ll bet that old maid of a director is sweating. Tell them I’ll be out soon. I just need to get my strength back.’

‘Maybe you should eat something solid, rather than just juicing?’

‘You’re joking, right? I have to get into this teeny costume every day for the next few weeks.’ Cameron mopped at her forehead with the back of her hand. ‘And get hold of that doctor...what’s his name? Kim? Get him on the phone. Tell him I need to see him again.’

‘Oh?’ Maybe Cameron really was sick, instead of acting or just plain attention-seeking? Before taking this job, Lola had seemingly been the only person in the whole world who had had trouble trying to work out the difference between her boss’s award-winning talent and her award-winning time-wasting. She’d stopped short of calling her a diva, but that didn’t stop the glossies naming her as one. Having got to know her a little more, Lola was reframing Cameron as a hard-working actress with high standards, who wasn’t afraid of asking for what she wanted. She could learn something from that. Although the diva did sometimes take centre stage. ‘Of course. Yes. I’ll get him right away.’

First, she cracked the seal on a fresh bottle of mineral water and poured it into a glass tumbler.

‘Lola, what are you waiting for? Phone him.’

‘I’m getting you a drink so you can take your tablets. Let’s get them into your system and starting to work.’ It was going to be a very long day, and Lola would be very glad when she fell into bed later with a good book to whisk her away from the reality of her life. Which hadn’t turned out exactly how she’d hoped. No studio had optioned her script, no director had even read it so far. More than once she’d thought about returning home to London...but she needed to give herself a fair chance here, not risk the humiliation of going home and admitting she’d not just failed, but lied to her family too. And, God knew, even though some days she hated it, she needed to keep this job to pay the exorbitant rent on her shabby apartment. And eat. ‘Would you like me to get the studio nurse? She’s here and available, and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind—’

‘A nurse? A nurse? Honey, I’m award-winning. I need a doctor. I need that Kim doctor.’ And with that Cameron closed her eyes. Conversation over.

Lola observed her for a few seconds. It didn’t need any kind of medic to see that the actress was in fine health. Her blonde hair shone, she was beautifully pink, breathing normally with a small secretive smile on those camera-ready lips. But Lola was nothing if not dutiful. She pulled out her phone and dialled.

‘Hello!’ She’d been briefed by Cameron to always converse with a smile in her voice. ‘Is this The Hollywood Hills Clinic? Yes? Great! I have Cameron Fontaine here and she needs to see the doctor. Wait, I’ll just ask.’ Lola cradled the phone to her shoulder and whispered, ‘Is it an emergency, Miss Fontaine?’

A perfectly plucked eyebrow rose on a serene, pain-free face. ‘It depends what they mean by emergency. I would like to see a doctor—so, yes, they should act quickly.’

‘But is it a matter of life or death?’

‘I suppose...’ A reluctant pout. A dramatic pause. ‘Not really.’

‘Are you dying, Miss Fontaine?’

‘Oh. No. No. Of course I’m not dying. But don’t tell them that, obviously.’ Cameron sat up elegantly and straightened her space desert warrior costume, putting little strain on the perfectly honed abdominal muscles that had been on the front of every magazine last month as she’d frolicked in the waves in Hawaii—while Lola had been left in LA to supervise a spring clean of Cameron’s Bel Air home, take the dogs for grooming, organise a lunch for fifty for Cameron’s return...yada, yada...

Lola sighed—inwardly, of course—and spoke to the receptionist. ‘Please ask him to come as soon as you can. Thank you...I will, yes.’ Lola passed along the message. ‘The doctor will be here soon. He’s in the middle of a surgery, but will pop over when he’s finished.’

‘Pop over. You’re such a sweetie. Say it again...’ Cameron gave a real smile now. ‘Say it again.’

‘Pop over.’

‘Pop! Oh, my, I do love your English accent. Just heavenly. Teach me?’

‘Yes! Of course!’ Clearly, whatever ailed Miss Fontaine would have to wait. But Lola had no doubt that the pain would resurface at exactly the same time as the doctor.

* * *

‘Excuse me, Dr Lewis, there’s another call for you.’

‘Another one? Not now,’ Jake Lewis barked across the OR at his surgical assistant. ‘I told you, I don’t want to know until I’ve finished here.’

‘But it’s the studio. They won’t—’

‘Not now.’ Jake sucked in the antiseptic air and steadied himself. Refocused on his patient, a nineteen-year-old quarterback with a diagnosis of type-two neurofibromatosis: an incessant ringing in his ears, increasing left-arm numbness and a sudden penchant for falling over. All pointing to a large tumour on his vestibular nerve, which had been confirmed by scans.

With enough luck and Jake’s skill, the boy might well be able to catch and pass a ball after this surgery. He would, hopefully, also be able to hear again—although, he might not. He would also probably never fulfil his lifelong dream of playing at a high level in the NFL. The disease process was slow, but there wasn’t always a great prognosis long term. This kid’s future was on the line and someone wanted Jake to see an actor about, what—an irritating cough?

And, yeah, maybe he was being an assumptive ass, but in his experience there hadn’t ever been a need for a neurosurgeon on a film set during the normal day-to-day scheduling. Emergencies—yes. But this wasn’t an emergency, they’d said so already. The first time they’d called. And the second...

The assistant hesitated, the phone still in his outstretched hand. ‘But...they...you...’

‘Didn’t you tell them last time? If it’s an emergency they need to call 911 and I’ll meet them in the ER, otherwise I will be there as soon as I’ve finished this complex neurofibroma surgery. If they don’t understand what that is, explain, in words of less than two syllables, that I’m a brain surgeon, and ask them to guess what I’m busy with right now.’

When James Rothsberg had head-hunted him for his Hollywood Hills Clinic it had been the biggest boost to Jake’s career, the opportunity to work with the very best California had to offer. And it had promised a decent living with money to spare to pay back his parents every cent and more for the sacrifices they’d made for him. Money, too, to pay for healthcare for his father’s failing health.

That they wouldn’t accept a dime from him was another issue altogether, along with the fact that even though Jake worked in one of the best hospitals in the state, his father refused to set foot through the door. Not that it stopped Jake from trying. Again. And again.

But the job came with the proviso that he’d fill in when necessary on the clinic’s film studio roster. In extremis. And Dr Kim’s sudden and necessary absence due to family problems meant they were in extremis. He’d have to live with it, along with all the tender egos who demanded nothing less than a qualified doctor to apply a plaster.

‘Okay, everyone. Back to work, concentrate, this is the tricky bit. We have to...’ he manipulated the probes ‘...isolate and expose the tumour... There it is... Pretty tough guy, this one, will take some clever dissecting...’

Three hours later, after a distressing conversation with his patient’s parents, when he’d tried to be as honest and hopeful as he could about the boy’s future, Jake pulled into the film studio, showed his security pass and was directed to the set.

Seriously? His whole life he’d been working towards neurosurgery and now, just because one of his colleagues was away, he was here. In... The spool of annoyance on repeat in his head jerked to a stop. He looked around. Stared. What the hell? Outer space? The set was a mock-up of a crashed spacecraft on a sandy planet. All around him were creatures with three eyes or two heads and, strangely, holding very Earth-like guns... Plus a lot of cables that could easily trip someone up, and a few worried-looking humans huddled around a large film camera, watching something on a screen.

‘Hey?’ He stopped a man carrying a ladder as he walked by. ‘Cameron Fontaine? Where can I find her? I’m the doctor. She rang, more than once, to request my assistance.’

‘In her trailer. Again. Out there, take a left.’ The man pointed wearily across the set and beyond. ‘Biggest trailer, you won’t miss it. Do us a favour and wave a wand, bring her back? They’re all going nuts here.’

Jake wandered through the set and out into a car lot where there were around a dozen trailers. One, in the far corner, was very definitely, pointedly, larger than the others.

‘Excuse me? Can I help you?’ A very cross English voice, out of place in...outer space...had him spinning round. The owner was another angry-looking human with wild fiery red hair that appeared to match her bad humour, and a smattering of freckles in a pale complexion. It was the frown that stood out most, though.

‘I’m looking for Cameron Fontaine. She called for me. I’m Dr Lewis.’

‘You’re the doctor? But you’re not Kim. She usually sees Kim.’

Believe me, lady, I don’t want me to be here either. ‘Dr Kim is away at the moment. I’m the fill-in. For the duration of filming.’ But he’d be having words with James when he eventually got back to the clinic. Surely someone else could do this? Someone less busy, less qualified, someone who actually cared about all these Hollywood theatrics?

The woman in front of him shook her head and the mass of red curls bobbed around her shoulders. Man, her hair was shiny, and she had dark chocolate eyes that were huge and...condemning. She was wearing a top that was a similar colour to her eyes. And why he even noticed that he had no idea. Standard issue black skinny jeans clung to... No, he wasn’t going there. He was not going to look at her and assess her attractiveness like everyone else in this city where looks were king. No doubt she was just the same kind of blinded-by-the-lights airhead wannabe actress. She was pretty enough. Not like the tall willowy brunettes that breezed in and out of his life, but there was something about her that set her apart. A fragile beauty.

So, okay, he had a quick peek and she had a damned fine body. Curves. Something you didn’t see often around here. Nice curves.

And a disappointed glint in her eyes that made him feel as if he’d let her down. ‘Well, that’s just perfect. Brilliant. We’ve been waiting for you for hours and everyone’s starting to get very grumpy and for some reason it’s all my fault and you’re not even the right guy.’

‘Whoa.’ It was fine for him to feel bummed out about this, but no way was it okay for her to join in. ‘I can leave right now, if you prefer. I have plenty of real patients to keep me occupied.’

‘No. No. No. Stay right there. You’ll have to do. The director’s getting on my back, Cameron won’t go outside, and we all need her seen as soon as possible. Please.’ Her eyes narrowed for a moment. Then she seemed to pull herself together. Smacking her lips, she clasped her hands in front of her as if steeling her nerve. She found him a smile. It wasn’t terribly convincing, but it was there. ‘Sorry. I’m Lola Bennett, Miss Fontaine’s PA.’ He could have sworn she also uttered the word ‘dogsbody’ under her breath, but he couldn’t be certain.

‘Jake Lewis. Neurosurgeon to the stars. Apparently.’ He stuck out his hand.

Which she took in hers and gave a short firm shake. Her hand was warm and petite and just touching it gave him a weird jolt through his skin. She looked down at where their hands touched, then back at him with a question in her eyes. Then she blinked. ‘Okay! Well! Let’s do our best, shall we? Miss Fontaine’s trailer is right here. Be warned, though, she may not be exactly chuffed to see you.’

‘Chuffed?’

‘Sorry, I mean pleased. Delighted. English, you see. As in I’m from England... Obviously you speak English too...just a different sort...’ And then she smiled for real, the chocolate eyes blazed and her mouth curled into a pretty curve. Which had a very strange but real effect on his cardiac rhythm as he followed her into the trailer.

He put it down to the whole bizarre scenario, the extra-terrestrial vibe, the raised blood pressure caused by harassment during complex surgery. The drive through relentless traffic. It was nothing to do with the very talkative Lola Bennett, of that he was sure.

‘Hello!’ There was a forced joy to her voice that was just a little panicked as they stepped into the trailer, and for a fleeting moment Jake felt sorry for her. ‘Miss Fontaine? The doctor’s here!’

‘About time too. Kim? Oh, Kim, I’m so glad—’ The beautiful blonde actress Jake had seen on billboards around town and on movie screens countless times sat up and glared. ‘You’re not Kim.’

Lola was by her side in a second, talking as if to a small child, eagerly soothing and endlessly optimistic. ‘No, Miss Fontaine, this is Dr Lewis. Jake. He’s here to see you. Dr Kim is away at the moment.’

‘Well, bring him back. I can’t see...’ she waved her hand at Jake as if shooing away an irritating dog ‘... Jack here.’

‘It’s Jake,’ Lola said smoothly, as she offered a silent apology to Jake in the form of a shrug and a roll of the eyes. ‘He’s from the clinic, so he’s bound to be good. Excellent, I’ll bet.’

Unable to take this fawning any longer, Jake stepped forward. ‘Miss Fontaine, I’m Dr Kim’s stand-in. There is no question of bringing him back. What’s the problem?’

‘I can’t discuss it with you. Kim knows everything.’

‘Oka-a-ay. It’ll be in your notes then? I’ll remote-access them from here.’ He put his laptop bag on the table next to her and unzipped it. Pulled out his computer and fired it up. ‘Please be assured that I am bound by the same confidentiality as Dr Kim. I am as capable as he is.’ If not more so. And more highly qualified. ‘If you can just tell me what’s wrong, then we can try to fix it.’ Soon. And, yes, he realised his tone was just a little annoyed. But he had very sick patients, a young man with his whole future in doubt—his whole life—and instead of being where he was needed, he was here. Doing this.

The actress began to shake and blink quickly. ‘What’s wrong? What’s wrong? I need health advice and I have the wrong doctor in my trailer, that’s what’s wrong. Please go. Now. I won’t see anyone but Kim.’

What the hell? ‘I can assure you—’

‘It’s Kim or no one.’

‘Then it’ll be no one. He’s not going to be back for months—’

‘So go.’

Jake bit back a curse. ‘I came all this way and you won’t even let me talk to you? Just like that?’

‘Just like that. Now go.’ And with a final flourish she flung herself back against the cushions and closed her eyes. He presumed this meant that the consultation was over.

‘Sorry to have wasted your time,’ he growled, not sorry at all as he slammed down the laptop lid, snatched up his bag and stalked out of the door. Wasting her time? Wasting her time? His fist curled around the bag handle as he strode back towards the set. What a joke. He was definitely going to talk to James about this.

‘Dr Lewis? Jake? Wait, please.’ That English accent again. He swivelled on his heel. Lola was standing at the bottom of the trailer steps, wringing her hands. ‘How about I find you a cup of tea? Would that help?’

‘I doubt it. It certainly won’t get me the last hour of my life back.’

‘But it might help to sit for a while. Calm down before you head back into the traffic.’ She looked at her watch. ‘It’s almost rush hour, it’ll be a nightmare.’

‘I think I’ve just had one already. Tell me I’m going to wake up soon.’

Lola raised her shoulders. ‘She has a habit of changing her mind.’

‘So do I. From right this minute. I’m not coming back. I’m not surgeon to the stars.’

‘She may ask to see you again. Soon. Like in five minutes.’

‘I’ll be busy. With patients who actually want my input and expertise. I have better things to do with my time than pander to hypochondriacal celebrities.’

But for some reason he couldn’t really understand, he followed Lola towards a truck dispensing snacks and drinks and waited until she’d ordered two English breakfast teas. Tea—the great soother of tempers, according to the Brits. No serial or costume drama was ever made where the mention of tea didn’t happen at least twice. He hated it.

Then, taking the tray of drinks, he let her lead the way to a marquee and a plastic table and chair set-up. Lola looked dejected while desperately trying not to appear so. ‘I’m so sorry, Jake. Can I call you Jake? Or do you prefer Dr Jake? Dr Lewis?’

‘Jake’s fine.’

‘She’s a bit temperamental, she’s spent her life telling people what to do. And they do it. Just like that.’ She clicked her fingers. ‘I’m guilty of doing it too—but, then, I get paid to. She’ll come round, you just have to let her calm down and think logically.’ She bit her bottom lip, gave a conciliatory smile that lit up her eyes and whispered, ‘She will, eventually.’

‘Whatever she pays you isn’t enough. Leave. Get another job.’ So it was curt, but damn...how could Lola let her boss talk to her like that?

The smile and the light vanished. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘It’s not healthy to be around self-obsessives. Actually, it’s really not worth it. Just because you want to be noticed, a career in Tinsel Town, right? She’s your ticket? Actress, right? Like all the others who come here because they want the bright lights. It’s not worth it, Lola. Find another job. That kind of person will suck you dry, drive you mad.’

Now Lola frowned, eyes wide. ‘And this is your business because...?’

Good question.

He didn’t usually make assumptions and feel the need to sort someone else’s life out. In fact, he usually steered as far away as possible from involving himself in anyone’s life. Particularly women’s. The only thing interfering had ever achieved was a damned headache, and sent out a message that he cared...or was interested...or wanted to commit. He wasn’t. He didn’t. ‘I’m just saying, there are better careers than being someone’s assistant or a Z-list actress. Most don’t get very far anyway, it’s only the top tiny percentage who can make a living at it. If you want my opinion—’

‘Actually, I don’t. But thanks for making my day a whole lot worse.’ She stared at the steam rising from her tea, then stirred two packets of sugar into her cup. Which was refreshing, because most women he knew in this city would rather have eaten dust than sugar. It was the new axis of evil...or something. She looked dejected, and there was a simmering behind her eyes that signalled danger.

There was also a cloud of coiled anger hanging over them and, if he was honest, it was probably due to him. He’d started off this whole debacle in a lousy mood and things had got worse from there. If she was right and Cameron did ask him to return, it would help if he smoothed things between them. Plus, he didn’t want word of this to get back to James, who was insistent that all patients be treated with kid gloves...and that was usually Jake’s mojo. The patient came first—always. But also...and this was the weirdest thing...he felt bad at adding to Lola’s troubles. He’d seen a glimpse of her smile and, strangely, he wanted it back again.

‘Lola—’

‘Oh? There’s more? Which part of me do you want to pick apart now? You’ve done my job and my pathetic-sounding future—how about you move on to my face or my body?’ The joy in her voice had been replaced with irritation. The happy bounce that had seemed to live in her bones—gone. Yes, she was pissed at him. Very. No one ever spoke to him in that tone, and there were flashes of gold sparking in her eyes now. It was...well, it was all very interesting. She leaned forward, waving her teaspoon at him. ‘You don’t know the first thing about me but somehow think you can storm in here and give me life advice?’

‘Er...’ He began to explain. ‘It’s—’

But she jumped right on in. ‘Well, seeing as we’re handing advice out so liberally today, let me give you some, Dr High and Mighty. I don’t care who you are or what qualifications you’ve got, you don’t get to condescend me as if I am worthless. And you don’t get to make assumptions about anything I do or who I am. Okay? I was trying to be nice to you because she can be a bit of a B-I-T-C-H. And I totally understand how you can be angry with her for being a diva too—and now I’ve said it and I promised myself I never would—because she is a very good actress and she can be thoughtful sometimes. Rarely, but it does happen.

‘I thought a cup of tea and a chat would help because in my experience they usually do, but you know what? Forget it. There are plenty of doctors in Los Angeles who would give their right arm to be here in this privileged position, doctors who care. Who want to help. Who are actually nice. So I’ll go phone one of them, shall I? I think we’re done here.’

And with that she scraped her chair in the gravel and stood. Her previously pale face was now a bright beetroot red. The sunny smile a mere figment of his memory. And to his chagrin, he realised Lola Bennett had done what no woman had ever done to Jake Lewis—she’d brought him to a point where he had to chase after her and grovel.

CHAPTER TWO

‘LOLA.’

God give me strength. Some days she really, really wanted to change her name. She hesitated on her path back to the trailer, slowed and then stopped, wishing her burning cheeks would cool down. The doctor may well be dashing and delicious to look at with his cropped dark hair and startling blue eyes, and so what if he had a body that the leading man on set would die for? Jake Lewis was a pompous jerk in a suit and she didn’t want him to think he’d got the upper hand.

But he was the only doctor here so she needed to be nice to him because finding another one might take another couple of hours. And she was pretty sure Cameron would change her mind, again, and insist on seeing a doctor before the day was out. So Lola was stuck between the two of them trying to find a happy place. ‘Yes? What now?’

Dr Lewis’s lips twitched at the corners, but he kept his distance. ‘You didn’t finish your tea.’

‘I don’t want it any more, thank you.’ She tried to keep the irritation out of her voice, she really did, but it shone through regardless.

He stepped forward and beckoned to her. ‘But I’m told on good authority that it might help. And it’s going cold.’

‘So?’ She stuck her hands on her hips and waited for his apology.

‘So, they’re going to clear it away if we don’t go back.’ The jerk jerked his head towards the canteen seating area. Two forlorn cups sat on the empty table. And, God, she was parched. With all this running around she hadn’t had a chance for a drink in ages. Dr Lewis just carried on as if an apology was the furthest thing from his mind and that he hadn’t just insulted her every which way he liked. ‘Come on, come back and finish it before they take it away.’

But no way would she sit with him again until— ‘No, Jake, I’m waiting for an explanation.’

‘I see.’ The twitch at the mouth turned into a thin line as he pondered her words. He really was very lovely to look at—but, then, so was everyone in LA, even the set carpenters were beautiful and always screen-ready. It was like living in a magazine or on an episode of Entertainment Daily.

This guy, though, he had an arrogance that shot through the better-than-good looks, a haughty jaw and a manner she didn’t particularly understand—it was as if he really didn’t want to be here. Who wouldn’t want to be surrounded by all this wonderful Hollywood chaos?

She tapped her foot. ‘Still waiting...’

‘Ah. Well, I haven’t ever waited tables, Lola, but I think it generally works like this: when customers leave a table—or rather stomp away—it indicates that they’ve finished and it’s okay to clear their used cups away.’

‘Too clever for your own good.’ She couldn’t help the smile. ‘And I didn’t stomp.’

His gaze ran from her face, down over her body and lingered a little at her backside. Which made her face heat even more. Her stomach suddenly started with a strange fluttery feeling and she wondered if she was coming down with the same thing as Cameron.

He nodded. ‘You so did. Little angry stomps.’

‘Condescending too? Great.’ He’d been watching her that closely? ‘Well, it’s hardly surprising given the circumstances. And I meant I’m waiting for an explanation of why you were so rude.’

‘Oh.’ He gave a small shrug. ‘That.’

‘Yes. That. An apology would be nice.’

He actually looked surprised, as if saying sorry was something he’d never ever thought about, let alone done. But he walked back towards the table and she felt intrigued enough to follow him. She just about caught his words, more of a mumble really. ‘I apologise if my words upset you.’

‘Not sorry you said them. Not sorry you jumped to conclusions. You’re just sorry I was upset? Where did you learn the art of apologising?’

‘You’re supposed to learn it? Is that what they teach in British schools? The art of apology?’ He stood at the table while she sat down—no doubt a play for power. ‘Figures.’

‘By which you mean?’

He lifted his cup to his mouth and took a sip. Grimaced. Put it back down again. ‘Look, things got a little heated back there. I think we need to start over.’

Hallelujah. Because she didn’t dare face Cameron and admit she’d scared the doctor away. Even if he did deserve it. ‘Yes, yes, we do.’

‘Excellent. First things first.’ He turned and walked over to the café truck, chatted briefly with the chef—even laughed! Laughed. The man had a sense of humour...but clearly had no intention of sharing much of it with her. Then he returned with a steaming cup of coffee. He sat, sipped and smiled. ‘Great. Now, where were we?’

‘You don’t like tea?’

‘No.’

‘So why didn’t you say anything before?’

‘You ordered and assumed I’d want it. I was being polite. It is possible.’ He leaned back in his chair and smirked. ‘I admit, I was an idiot.’

Still no I’m sorry. Interesting. ‘To be honest, Cameron can be difficult. I have to bite my lip an awful lot.’ She didn’t tell him about how she screamed into her pillow when she was so frustrated and utterly exhausted by her demands, or had fantasised about a jellyfish attack on that Hawaiian beach, while she had been knee deep in doggy-do with three over-excited, totally over-pampered Chihuahuas at the grooming salon.

An eyebrow peaked. ‘So why do you stay?’

‘Have you tried to get a job here, with everyone else all vying for something in the industry? She pays reasonably well—although it’s long hours. And because she’s the closest I’ve got to a film director since I arrived here. That’s my target, really. The longer I’m with Cameron the more I’ll meet the right people. I need her. I need this job. I know that sounds mercenary, like I’m using her, but I really need the contacts and exposure. Does that make me a bad person?’

He looked at her for a moment or two, and again she felt a strange rising sensation in her stomach, a need to look away but a compulsion to keep staring into those bluest of blue eyes. ‘Lola, I don’t know you, but from what I’ve seen so far I couldn’t imagine you’re a bad person. A little full on, maybe—’

‘My dad says I’m a chatterbox.’

‘I’m not commenting on the grounds that I may incriminate myself further.’ But he gave a wry smile in agreement. ‘Basically, you’re just doing what everyone else does—feathering your own nest. Making things work for you. It’s the way of the world. It’s why I’m here instead of back at the clinic, or back in Van Nuys, where I grew up. Networking, making connections. How are you going to get on in life if you don’t use your contacts?’

Well, that certainly made her feel a little better. Although he’d clearly given it a lot of thought and justified it all down the line. Was he one of those true workaholic types? Or was he just completely self-focused?

She’d met a lot of people like that here—really, she’d thought she was highly ambitious, but her over-achieving tendencies paled into insignificance compared to those of some of the men she’d met. The ones who had stood her up because of a last-minute audition and hadn’t bothered to call her and had left her sitting in a bar, like a lemon. Or who had used their in-between-jobs actor badges to repeatedly make her pay for everything on dates. Or—the very worst—the one who had slept with her as a way of getting to meet Cameron. That one had really stung. She’d fallen heavily for that guy and all he’d wanted had been an introduction to her boss.

Her love life had taken a serious dive since she’d moved here, and now she was totally off dating anyone. Definitely. It was going to be just her and her scripts and, she thought with a sigh, Cameron and her three little Chihuahua babies.

Having drained his coffee, Jake gave her a small smile. ‘So you’re an actress, then?’

‘No. God, no. Although I did study drama from being about three years old and did my time on stage at university, but I fell in love with words, creating characters. Making things up. I’m a writer. Screenplays.’ What a buzz to say that out loud. Finally...finally! She’d escaped the endless expectations and was chasing her own dream, instead of being forced to live someone else’s. Although, she realised, freedom did come at a price—guilt, mostly.

He sat upright. ‘And you came all the way from England just for that?’

‘Just? People have done things that are far more rash. I wanted to be part of the scene here. This is where screenplays get made into movies. This is where someone can take my work, my idea, and make it a reality. Besides, my dad’s from LA and he always talked it up.’

‘So if he liked it, why did he leave? I presume he left?’

‘He met my mum and married her and they moved back to her home, which is London. Basically, he gave up his career here for love.’ He’d taken second best for a job, moved countries, given up dreams. She was not going to follow in his footsteps—she was going to mould her own. Chase her own dreams. Hard.

She wasn’t going to give anything up for love—when she was ready she was going to have it all. She just wasn’t sure if she would ever be ready—how did you know? Her plan was to achieve all those things her father hadn’t. To be a success. Because when he’d watched his daughter performing on stage all she’d seen in his eyes had been the light of regret. Lola never wanted to have any regrets. Or to walk on a stage ever again.

Jake looked startled. Shocked. As if the whole idea of love was alien and somehow absurd. ‘Why would anyone would do that? Why take a chance on something that could just as easily fall apart? What does he do now?’

‘He teaches drama, which he loves. And I’m sure he’s happy where he is. I know he adores his family. Too much at times. But he used to tell such amazing stories about living here and the films he was in. Did you see Big City Drive? No? It was about life in LA in the eighties. He said it was really accurate. The whole city vibe. I think I fell in love with this city just from that film. Although it does help that my dad was in it.’

Jake gave her a look that made her think he didn’t much like it at all. ‘And how’s it working out for you?’

She couldn’t look him in the eye and lie, so she spoke to the air around them. ‘It’s going just fine. Great! Look around you—isn’t this brilliant? Over there is Alfredo Petrocelli, the best director in the world, as far as I’m concerned. And I’m breathing the same air as Matt Ringwood and Cameron Fontaine—although her air is usually infused with some weird aromatherapy combinations depending on her mood, and they change—a lot. But, all things considered, it couldn’t be better.’

‘And yet your body language says the opposite.’ Those blue eyes narrowed a little. ‘Tell me the truth, Lola. It’s not all glitz and glamour, is it?’

Why did this man make her feel simultaneously nervous and yet eager to talk? How did he read her so well in the space of...what? Half an hour? She wanted to brush everything off with a big happy shrug but, well, she was a little sick of lying about how much fun it all was and how wonderfully exciting it was, when really sometimes she felt so despondent she wanted to cry. She was lonely. She was poor. She wasn’t making the right connections quickly enough. She was running out of money. She couldn’t bring herself to show her script to anyone. It was bad enough that she had to lie every time her father phoned.

But, then, she didn’t know Jake from a bar of soap, so why should she spill her guts to him? ‘It’s fabulous, actually. You should see Cameron’s house in Bel Air. It’s amazing. And she has great parties.’ Which Lola organised completely but had to keep a ‘low profile’ for. No partying for the assistant, just background work creating the illusion that Cameron had done it all on her own. ‘Really. Fabulous. Now, I think I should probably be going.’

Jake frowned. ‘Where? Back to Cameron? Won’t she yell if she needs you? That seems to work.’

‘Yes, she will. But I do have other things I should be doing. Besides, she needs me to go over her lines.’

But he didn’t seem to want to move, so she was kind of stuck here, being polite. Although that wasn’t too much of a hardship. After the initial bad beginning, things had started to smooth out a little—largely, she mused, due to her never-ending search for the positive in things, which was starting to falter a little.

He leaned back and crossed his legs. From what she could see of them they were toned, strong, clothed in expensive fabric. A dark suit, very professional. In fact, from this angle she could see the stretch of linen across his chest, the bunched muscles in his arms. He clearly did more working out than lifting a scalpel. And that was so none of her business. She looked away—only this time it was at his face.

His eyes met hers again and she felt a shiver of something strange as he said, ‘So, what’s it about, then, your screenplay?’

Wow. The first person to actually ask.

She’d prepared her elevator pitch, she knew exactly how to sell it to a director or producer in one sentence. Perhaps she could try it out on him?

‘Lola! Lola!’

No such luck.

She gave him a little nod. ‘See. I have to go. But, please, don’t disappear on me, she’s probably—’

‘Lola!’ The pitch was high, the voice wobbly.

‘Oh, she really does sound upset. Maybe you should come too?’

‘Okay. Sure. Once more unto the breach and all that...’ He closed his eyes for a second and then breathed in deeply, as if summoning up courage. ‘Do we need hard hats?’

For a moment Lola felt as if she had an ally. Everyone else took Cameron so seriously it was nice to share a confidence. She laughed. ‘Only if she throws something at you.’ At his worried grimace she laughed again. Harder. ‘She has terrible aim. She hasn’t actually hit me yet.’

* * *

Jake watched as Lola again clothed herself in her positive jolly guise and entered the trailer. For a few seconds she’d let him see past that façade to the real woman—she was an interesting character. Clearly driven, if not a little spirited. Still, there was nothing wrong in chasing a dream. She was articulate and had a self-deprecating sense of humour, which was infectious.

She almost ran over to Cameron and Jake had a suspicion that there was some affection there for her boss despite what she said. ‘Hey, are you okay? What’s the problem?’

The actress wiped tears from her cheeks. ‘I don’t know. I feel...well, I don’t feel right. I’m so...out of sorts.’

Jake stepped in. ‘Are you in pain anywhere, Miss Fontaine?’

‘No. Not pain exactly.’

Great. Not helpful. ‘Can you describe what this out of sorts feeling is? Is it anywhere in particular? An ache? A stabbing pain? Nausea? Headache? Dizziness?’ It was like playing lucky dip.

‘No.’ Tears fell faster.

‘She was nauseous earlier.’ Lola looked from one to the other as if that was the complete answer.

‘It’s gone now, I’m just a little upset. Something I ate, no doubt.’ Cameron sighed. ‘But I don’t think I’ll be able to do much today. Lola, honey, can you tell them I won’t be out for the rest of the day?’

Lola frowned, but quickly wiped it from her face. Her voice was soothing, soft and positive. ‘Maybe you’re just a little over-tired? You’ve been working very hard recently with only one little break in Hawaii. That wasn’t enough—you need to make sure you book in a longer break between shoots next time. I’ll put it in your diary.’ While she talked she brushed Cameron’s hair back from her face and held a glass of water out for her to drink. ‘I think they’re on their break now, anyway. They’ve been doing some stunt rehearsing to fill in—Matt’s big fight scene, you know what a perfectionist he is, so don’t worry, everyone’s fine about it. How about we see how you feel in a few minutes? Perhaps Jake could give you a tonic or something?’

A tonic? Did people still have those? He was all clued up on brains and, after his stint in ER as an intern, could manage most emergencies. But general non-specific malaise? He wasn’t sure about that. He knelt in front of Cameron.

‘Perhaps Lola could excuse us while I examine you?’ He shot a hopeful look at Lola and she nodded.

‘Great idea. Let’s make sure we’re not missing anything.’

‘No. No. That won’t do at all. Please, just give me a tonic. Something...something non-toxic. Oh, I don’t know, maybe just water? Would more water help?’ Cameron put a protective hand to her stomach, although Jake thought it was an odd subconscious action.

Then his mind began to join the dots. General malaise. Nausea disguised as a stomach upset. Hand on abdomen. Tears. Non-toxic.

She’s pregnant. She’s pregnant and she doesn’t want anyone to know. ‘I’d really like to talk to you in private, Cameron. Just talk. I won’t examine you if you don’t want that.’

The actress looked at him for a good long beat. She gave a minute shake of her head, her eyes wide and a little scared. Clearly, anyone finding out about this, even her assistant, was a big deal. But didn’t she know she needed to take care? To eat the right things? Did she know for sure or just suspect? Did she have an OB/GYN?

Miss Fontaine sat up and patted her cheeks with a tissue. ‘You know what? I’m actually starting to feel a bit better. Perhaps a little more water, then I’ll go back outside. Get some air. Maybe we could do some sitting-down scenes to conserve my energy.’

Jake wasn’t convinced. ‘Cameron, are you sure you don’t want me to look you over? Or I can arrange for someone else to come see you? This evening? To your home if you want?’ An OB/GYN? Midwife? He gave her a studied look, hoping she could read through his words. Trying to maintain confidentiality with someone else in the room was difficult. ‘I could call someone.’

‘No. Thank you. You’ve been very attentive. But I’m fine. Absolutely. You can go.’

He fished into his bag and drew out a card, which he gave to her. ‘Here’s my personal cell number. Call me any time.’

For the first time since he’d met her, Cameron smiled. ‘Thank you. You’re very kind.’

Just concerned. ‘Any time. Okay?’

Then he nodded to Lola to come outside with him. Thankfully she followed until they were out of hearing distance.

‘Thank you, Jake. I think all she needs is a bit of reassurance. You know what these people are like—they get very anxious about their bodies—it’s so important to them to be perfect. Obviously.’

Yes, well, he still wasn’t happy about the situation. He was on a set with a presumably pregnant actress who was at all kinds of risk. However, he also had to remember that pregnancy was a perfectly natural and normal state. ‘I think she needs to rest when she’s feeling tired. If there’s no pain or...anything else, she can continue to work. I’ve got to go back to the clinic and check on my patient from this morning, but I’ll come back later. Just to double-check she’s feeling okay.’ And to convince her to seek further advice. Somehow.

‘Thank you, that’s very kind.’

‘It’s not, it’s just routine.’

‘But you could have just walked away. Thanks for putting up with us. I’ll see you later. If they’re filming when you get here, just pop on over to the trailer. That’s where I’ll be, no doubt. That is...well...you know. If you want. We could wait...in there. Or...sorry, I’m rambling. Bye.’

As Lola smiled he felt momentarily as if his breath had been sucked out of his lungs. She turned and walked back towards the trailer and he realised he was waiting for the angry little stomps. He kind of missed them.

She was all kinds of confusing. She didn’t take any rubbish from him, but she took it from her boss. She stood up for herself in some situations, but not in others. She was hard working and committed. And she was, surprisingly and refreshingly, genuinely nice. Lola was the only real thing here—the rest was fabrication and fairy tale.

And he realised, as he climbed back into his car, that he wasn’t thinking about coming back to see Cameron at all. It was her assistant that had him looking in the rear-view mirror for one final glimpse.

That was a danger sign if ever he knew one.

CHAPTER THREE

THE HOLLYWOOD HILLS CLINIC was bustling as usual, regardless of the time of day or night. After checking on his patient, Jake took the lift to the management suite and walked along the bright corridor, his footsteps tapping on the marble tiling. It was a far cry from the well-intentioned but underfunded public hospital he’d worked at prior to the phone call from James that had promised to change his life.

It had. And, he hoped, working here had made his parents’ lives easier. For too long they’d scrimped and saved and sacrificed for their only son to achieve dreams way beyond any they’d dared to have for themselves. And every once in a while he took a breath and appreciated how very different things could have been for a relatively poor kid from Van Nuys; at least now with his handsome salary he could make up for all of their sacrifices. Even if he couldn’t make up for the effect those sacrifices had had on his father’s health.

He rapped on the door and opened it. ‘James, I need a word, if you have time?’

James Rothsberg smiled as he placed his phone into the holder on the desk. ‘Jake, I was just talking about you. Ears burning?’

‘No. Not at all.’

‘How’s it going over at the studio? Not taxing you too much?’ James leaned back in his chair and indicated for Jake to sit too. ‘Pretty cool job, right?’

Jake took a seat opposite him. ‘That’s what I want to discuss. It’s entirely inappropriate that I’m there, to be honest. I’m wasting my time, and theirs. There are less qualified people who could do the work; it’s not difficult, just time-consuming. Very time-consuming.’

James gave an uncharacteristic frown. ‘But it’s a roster. We all do our share. It’s part of your contract.’

‘Yes, I know. But now I’m doing Kim’s stint too.’

‘So we’ll rearrange it so you don’t get to do it again in a hurry. Fine?’

Not fine. Jake did not want to go back there and exchange heated looks with a redheaded English rose who only had one speed: hyperdrive. He wanted to stay here and work his heart out making people better, the way he knew how. He wanted to focus on his job. This job, here, the one he’d worked so hard to get, and the one he wanted to keep. And not think about pretty little angry stomps or waste his time on non-emergencies and actresses who wanted to keep secrets. ‘I’d prefer it if someone else could go.’

‘And I’d prefer it if you go. I’m just off the phone with Alfredo. He’s very impressed after hearing the rave review Cameron Fontaine gave you this afternoon. He’s requested that you accompany them on a location shoot. To keep her happy, mainly. In fact, she’s insisting on it.’

Jake felt frustration well up in his gut. ‘What? A location shoot? No way. That’s out of the question. What about my patients? You know, the brain-injured ones?’

His boss’s palm rose. ‘Jake, I’m not arguing about this. We can rearrange your schedule. It’s only for a few days—mainly over the weekend, so it won’t take you away from your patients here. I can give you time off in lieu. It’s in the Bahamas. That should appeal, right?’

The Bahamas? What the hell...? What did that have to do with a desiccated space-odyssey landscape? The world had gone mad.

Sun. Sea. And...well, at least the fiery redhead wouldn’t be there. Surely? That wasn’t the kind of thing assistants did, was it? Accompany their bosses on location shoots? ‘I don’t know, James. I don’t see how I’m the best fit for this. Send someone else.’

‘You don’t have any surgery booked until Tuesday. I can’t see a problem,’ James said, as he tapped on his laptop and looked at what Jake imagined was the OR schedule. The atmosphere became charged a little as his boss sat forward, suddenly serious. ‘See, the way it works is this: the studio heads contract to the clinic. We’re the best in California and everyone knows it, so they want to be associated with us. And it’s very lucrative, very prestigious. My point is, Alfredo plays golf with some of the studio guys...we don’t want word getting out that we renege on our contracts, do we? That our staff are unhelpful? Way too negative for us. We need you to keep them sweet.’

‘When you put it like that...’ It was clear this was a battle he couldn’t fight. James was right, he could rearrange his outpatient clinics, he didn’t have any scheduled surgery for a few days. Jake had made his feelings clear, but was big enough to accept that sometimes there were things he couldn’t change.

‘Plus, this kind of exposure to celebrities really helps with promoting the Bright Hope Clinic and the work Mila does there. Celebs love being involved with charities, and having our staff involved at all levels helps bring in donations. It’s great leverage.’

There was a strange mist in James’s eyes as he spoke of the Bright Hope Clinic. But Jake doubted whether it had as much to do with the pro bono work they were all going to do there with underprivileged kids as it had to do with the charity head, Mila Brightman. Every time James and Mila were in the same room there was a strange buzz in the air. It bordered on animosity—but there was something else there too. Fireworks, mainly.

Jake gave his friend a quick smile to show his agreement. He would not put his own needs first when kids’ futures were on the line. And, yeah, he was also big enough to admit that, despite what he thought about the airhead celebrity culture, they had big hearts and deep pockets and did a lot of good...and now he was starting to go soft. ‘Okay, okay, I’m packing already.’

‘Great. See? Not too hard, was it? A free trip to the Bahamas? I wouldn’t grumble. So, how’s everything else going? How’s the wonderful Cameron? Alfredo said she’s had a few issues. I’ve heard she can be a huge pain in the—’ James was interrupted by a soft tap at the door. ‘Yes? Come in.’

It was Mila. As she walked in Jake saw her cheeks flush a little. She focused solely on the man in front of her. ‘Hi, James. I’m so sorry to interrupt you.’

‘Mila, no problem, not at all.’ His boss stood immediately, suddenly looking like a lost boy rather than the accomplished professional he was. Jake hadn’t been working here very long, so he didn’t know what, if any, past these two had, but he smiled to himself. Whatever the hell was going on was so damned obvious to everyone—if not to them. The air had become charged in a completely different way, and Jake figured now was a good time to leave. Three was a crowd after all...

He stood to go. ‘Hi, Mila. Bye, Mila. Sorry, just leaving.’

‘Oh.’ She whirled round, her voice a little more high-pitched than he remembered it to be. ‘I didn’t see you there. Hi, Jake. How’s things?’

James cut in. ‘Poor guy’s got a difficult weekend coming up. A few days in Nassau with Cameron Fontaine.’

‘Oh? Exciting.’ Mila smiled, her long brown ponytail swishing as she turned her head. ‘Must be hard, being you.’

‘Tough job, right?’ And for a split second he found himself looking forward to the break, imagining a beach at sunset, the last dying rays of sun shimmering on a mass of red curls... Damn it... He needed to get out more. What the hell was wrong with him? Thirty minutes. That’s all he’d spent with Lola Bennett. Why she kept stomping into his head he didn’t know. But he wished she would stop it. ‘Look, I’ve got to get back to the studio. I’ll see you two later.’

But, already lost in their own tense conversation, he doubted they’d heard him. As he ambled to the door he caught snippets, James sounding a little stilted. ‘Sure, Mila, I’ve got the number right here.’

Mila’s breathy response was, ‘Great. I was just passing, and thought it’d be easier to ask in person than phone. I need a number and a quick chat about her work, character, commitment, really, whether you think she’d be a good fit for Bright Hope. But I can’t stay long, I’ve got to meet someone in an hour.’

‘Oh? Tyler?’ James’s voice was more of a growl at the mention of Mila’s boyfriend. Jake wished he could hear this out but he didn’t do gossip, no matter how tempting. And yet he still couldn’t bring himself to leave just yet. He paused to fasten his bag.

Mila shook her head. ‘No. It’s with the cleaning company manager. We have a couple of issues with their contract.’ There was a pause. ‘Actually, Tyler and I split.’

‘Oh? I’m sorry to hear that.’ Was that interest in James’s voice? No. It couldn’t be. Really?

She gave a bitter laugh. ‘I’m not. Now...the number for that paediatric cardiologist?’

‘Yes. Right here. You don’t seem too cut up about it.’

And as Jake tried to close the door without disturbing them, he heard her voice harden. ‘It wasn’t working, and I’d prefer not to talk about it. I don’t like to get my personal life embroiled in my professional. And I’m certainly not going to discuss it with you.’

‘Yes. No. Of course.’ James sounded wrong-footed. Surprised by her reaction. And so was Jake, a little. Normally she was a warm-hearted woman, professional, capable and very caring. Devoted to her patients. But she did sound a little bitter right now.

And Jake really did need to go. Eavesdropping was definitely not part of his contract. Plus, he was running late for a date with a very demanding leading lady...and her very jolly English assistant.

* * *

Lola sat in the trailer, trying to focus on editing her script, but failing, badly. Usually she welcomed moments like this where she could spend some time on herself and her own work, but she was feeling restless, fidgety. Kept looking towards the door and wishing it would open.

That damned doctor. He’d been the first person to pay attention to her—to Lola Bennett—rather than her employer or her contacts, or her usefulness. Plus he’d been quite amiable in the end—once she’d set him straight on manners.

Really.

He needn’t have been so nice to her. She was growing used to being in the background, which was a far cry from being a big fish in the small sea at Oxford University. But it was nothing more than she’d expected. LA was a big city after all, and everyone wanted a piece of the action.

And, well, she needed to focus on her work and the less she thought about Jake’s body the better.

But it was so...so hot. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought she’d find a stroppy neurosurgeon attractive. She’d always imagined she’d get embroiled with the creative, arty type. But her cheeks burned just thinking about him.

Which was stupid.

And, besides, he’d shown no interest in her...in that way. She was just a little bit lonely. And therefore vulnerable.

No. She would never be vulnerable. She was hard-working, focused and intent. Most of the time.

A knock on the door had her heart racing. ‘Come in!’

‘Hey, Lola Bennett.’ Jake stepped into the trailer and gave her a smile. A little uncomfortable, wary maybe, but there it was. ‘I’ve come back to check on Cameron. But I didn’t see her on set and she’s not here?’

‘She’s gone home. They’re working on a different scene now—after you’d gone she did very well and they managed to catch up, but she was tired so she’s gone for an early night. I called the clinic and told them she was okay and not to worry you, but you’d already set off. Don’t you have your cell phone? They said they’d text you.’ What was it about him that made her ramble on so much?

‘I keep it on silent because it keeps ringing and disturbing me.’ He dragged it from his suit jacket pocket and showed her. The strange and yet nice thing about Dr Lewis was that he wasn’t the least bit affected. He was straight up. Honest. Had no pretensions or cocky swagger. And yet he was so damned hot to look at he could have been in any one of her boss’s recent movies, or on the cover of a magazine. He just didn’t seem to realise it. ‘Oh, yes. There is a message.’

‘So you’ve wasted your time. I’m sorry.’ Liar. She was actually a bit pleased that he was here. Well, she would have been had her heart not started a funny little rhythm that felt like she was being kicked in the chest every few minutes. She was pleased, but judging by his frown he wasn’t. ‘I waited here in case you turned up. I didn’t want you to think we’d all abandoned you.’ The added bonus was that she could use the electricity here for free and snack on the leftover food in Cameron’s refrigerator. Plus, the thought of going home to her empty, shabby apartment left her cold.

‘Well, at least someone cares whether my time’s wasted.’ He nodded at the pile of paper on the table. ‘That your script? You never got round to telling me what it’s about. Please don’t tell me it’s another space disaster movie. I think the world has more than enough of them.’

She laughed. ‘How can you say that? The world can never have enough space desert warrior princesses. With AK47s. And very bad dialogue. Make more, I say. Lots of them. With terrible sequels.’

‘No. Not sequels too. Please don’t encourage them.’ The irritation broken, he finally laughed, his eyes shining in the dim light of the trailer lamps. When he relaxed he was pretty damned gorgeous. ‘So what kind of movies do you like, Lola?’

‘Anything with a good story, really. I love characters I can identify with, with guts and emotions. I’m not big on action thrillers and definitely not horrors—unless there’s a real character growth arc... Sorry, am I getting too technical? I’m doing an online course on writing screenplays and learning so much about story development. But the trouble with dissecting movies is that now I can’t see one without analysing it. I’m spoilt for ever.’

‘That sucks.’ He picked up the front sheet of her script. ‘Can I see?’

‘No. Please, no.’ She snatched it back, trying hard not to sound too crazy. Her screenplay was her baby and she wasn’t sure it was good enough yet. ‘I just don’t think it’s ready. My eyes only, and all that.’

‘Sure, I understand.’ At her wary frown he sat down on the sofa opposite. ‘I’m a perfectionist too. I hate doing anything less than stellar.’

‘That’s why you’re so good at your job.’

His eyebrows rose. ‘You wouldn’t know. You’ve hardly seen me at my best.’

‘Well, you were very good with Cameron.’

‘Not at first. You’d have been more impressed if you’d seen me manipulating a probe in her motor cortex...that’s part of the brain...while she was still awake.’ He waved his fingers in the air like a conductor and it was so out of character that she laughed.

‘Believe me, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t even be in the same room as you. Good God, that sounds hideous.’ Although she imagined him all scrubbed up, those strong arms working on a patient. Sweat beading his furrowed brow, his gaze catching hers across a crowded operating theatre... And now she was thinking like a bad romance novel. ‘Do you really do operations while your patients are still awake?’

‘Sometimes it works better that way as we can assess the patient as we go, see how they’re reacting to what we’re doing. It’s important to make sure we’re not affecting certain processes—like speech and movement. It doesn’t hurt—the brain doesn’t have any pain receptors.’

‘Eugh.’ Even so, how could he do that? ‘I wonder if I could put that in my movie?’

‘Why not? Although if it’s a kids’ film, you might have a few complaints. You’d have to have a rider: Do not do this at home.’

And he had a sense of humour that was refreshing. ‘Surely it’s not too hard? A few chopsticks and a handy pocket knife?’

‘Sure, that’s all there is to it. Easy. Plus fifteen years’ training, one or two pesky exams. Oh, and a steady hand is a must. Otherwise...well...’ He made a slicing motion at his throat.

‘Hmm. Good job you have steady hands, then.’ She reached out and took his hands in hers and held them straight out to see if they shook. It was just a joke. A funny little gesture, that was all. It didn’t mean anything.

But the strangest thing happened when she touched him. It was like a force, a shock or a shudder shivering through her. Her stomach began to fizz in an odd way and heat spread through her, from her core to the tips of her fingers and toes.

She looked up at him to see if he’d felt the same thing and he was looking at her in a funny way. Kind of surprised, yet irritated and bemused. And his eyes were still shining, but now in a really, really good way; the blue was dark with intent and she had an urge to lean forward across the table and kiss him. Right there. As if it was the most natural thing in the world to do.

But her throat was dry and her heart was hammering, and he still had a frown and, yet, a small smile. And she couldn’t kiss him. How could she kiss him? He’d think she was completely mad. And he’d be right. She was completely mad to want to kiss him. She hardly knew him. And he might not want to kiss her back.

She dragged her eyes away from his heated face and saw her script next to his arm. That was why she was here. Not for a man. Not for a kiss with a strange doctor. Who wasn’t strange at all and was actually very sexy. But too distracting. She was here for her career. Just as he was. And she was a perfectionist, just like him. But he was a lot further down the track than she was. He was already hugely successful and she was just a fledgling wannabe. She had a lot of work to do.

So she let his hands go and stood up, even though her legs were wobbly, because there was something about him that made her feel off balance. ‘I...er...I think I’m going to call it a day now. No doubt Cameron will be buzzing me early in the morning. It’s a five a.m. call.’

‘Okay. Great idea.’ He stood too, and they both tried to get out of the booth at the same time and brushed against each other. His chest was hard and strong, his breath whispered over her neck, and for a few seconds she didn’t know what to do. If she moved forward she’d be in his arms. Which suddenly didn’t seem such a bad idea...except...it was.

He stepped back and gestured for her to go first. ‘Sorry. After you.’

‘Thanks.’ She winced in embarrassment as she stepped out of the trailer and down the steps, wrapped her arms around her chest and started to walk towards the car lot.

He was next to her all the way. No talking. No...anything. Just walking in a strange awkward silence while her heart thump-thump-thumped and she clenched her fists tight. And she knew that nothing happening was a good thing. A very good thing. But a small part of her still clung to the fizz that bubbled in her stomach and the jerky heartbeat that made her cough a little.

When she reached her car she stopped. ‘Okay, well, thanks again, Jake. I’ll see you...? Actually, I’m not sure when that’ll be because Cameron’s going on location in a couple of days so...’

‘I don’t suppose you’re hungry?’ He’d lost that perplexed look and was back to being completely in control again. If that banquette blunder had affected him at all he didn’t show it. Which made her feel as if she was going slightly mad. He gave her smile. ‘I need to eat and I guess you do too. I know a great Thai place that does amazing noodles. You want to eat?’

Yes! ‘No. I don’t think—I...er...’ Yes. Yes. Yes.

Absolutely not.

He shook his head quite vehemently. ‘I don’t mean...not a date or anything. I can’t do that.’

His words made her step back. ‘Why? Are you married or something?’ That would be a good thing. A very good thing. A very good out-of-bounds, hands-off and definitely-no-kissing kind of good thing.

But he kept on shaking his head. ‘No. God, me married? No way. Really, no. But I’m always open to making new friends and would like some company for dinner. I can apologise again for being an idiot earlier. You can tell me about your story. Then I can show you how to manipulate chopsticks for awake brain surgery research. And you can B-I-T-C-H about your boss in safety, because I’m absolutely bound by confidentiality, and if you told me anything you’d have to kill me or sue me.’

‘Oh...I wouldn’t do that. Kill you, I mean. Well, not immediately. And everyone needs a friend, right?’ And it was all in the name of research and nothing else, so why not? ‘That’s an offer I definitely can’t refuse. To be honest, I’m starving. Lead on.’

So she got into her car and followed the lights of his expensive-looking sedan. Followed him from the dark studio warehouses back to the bright lights of the city, then through a maze of back streets that she knew she would never find her way out of on her own. And for the first time in a long time she felt as if things were looking up. It would be good to have a new friend in this strange but wonderful place.

If only she could stop thinking about kissing him.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE RESTAURANT WAS nothing like she’d imagined. It had basic melamine tables, white plastic chairs that she’d seen in her local two-dollar shop, and a fog of steam fragranced with seriously delicious smells of garlic and sesame oil and fish sauce.

Multicoloured paper lanterns hung from the ceiling, giving off a rosy red-orange glow, and squished in at each table were crowds of people Lola thought must be Thai nationals all chattering and laughing away in a language she didn’t understand. An oddly incongruous but perfectly quirky soundtrack of heavy rock pierced the air. Who’d have imagined a place like this? It was like being back in Bangkok.

‘Like it? This place is like a second home to me now,’ Jake said, as he squashed in next to her at a shared table. There was no room for embarrassment here, it was a case of either sitting close or closer. And she wasn’t sure if it was the cloying heat in the room or just being next to him, but she needed a cooling drink. Fast. He ran a finger down the pictures on the menu. ‘I recommend the Pad Thai or the house cashew chicken. Perfection. The best Thai food on the West Coast. Fancy a beer? Wine?’ He beckoned to a male server who came over, smiled and welcomed him like an old friend.

‘Mr Jake. Nice to see you again. Your usual?’

‘Hi, Panit, yes, please. And some...?’ He looked over at Lola.

Her mouth watering, she scoured the menu for her favourite. ‘Oh, yes. A beer, pork larb and a green papaya salad, please.’

Jake leaned back and looked at her, laughing. ‘There was me thinking I was going to wow you with unusual flavours and yet you know more about it than me.’

‘I travelled around Asia in my uni holidays...vacations. Vietnam, Laos and Thailand.’ It had taken her days to convince her parents to let her take time off. They’d had jobs lined up for her, but she didn’t do them. Her first strike for freedom. ‘It was brilliant. Madly busy but brilliant. And I learnt so much about the food. We even had cooking lessons over there. I came back ten pounds heavier.’ She patted her hips where the noodles and rice still clung in lumps and bumps. Her dad had gone mad about that too. You can never be too thin, he always said.

‘You look great to me.’ Jake’s eyes wandered to her hands, then slowly up her body until blood rushed to her cheeks just at the moment his gaze hit hers, and there it lingered for just long enough that she felt unsettled. There was something happening—and she knew it wasn’t the magical lighting or the steamy atmosphere, and it certainly wasn’t the beer because she hadn’t had any yet—but there was definitely something scary and weird happening inside her. And if it was just happening to her then she was going to feel like an idiot if it continued.

Jake took a slug of the beer that Panit brought over and broke the connection. ‘I’d love to travel more. I just haven’t gotten round to anywhere that far away.’

‘You’ve been focusing on work?’

‘You bet. My plan is to get to the top of my field and then take a little time to smell the roses... But, first, no rest for the wicked, right? You’ve got to push, push, push. I get the feeling you’ve got the same kind of drive.’ Confidence oozed from him, particularly in his smile. She wondered how it would be if this were a real date rather than a non-date. How it would feel to have those hands touch her... And suddenly she wanted them on her.

Was this chemistry real?

No. It couldn’t be. She shoved such fanciful ideas to the back of her mind. He’d made his intentions very clear and she was perfectly fine with that. She didn’t have time in her life for anything more intimate than this sort of dinner.

The food arrived so quickly she was surprised when the server returned with steaming plates of mains and bowls of rice. Jake picked up his two chopsticks, and one of hers, and held them aloft in front of him. ‘So, here we go...brain surgery one-oh-one. Basically you need one head, three probes...’

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