On-screen or off—it doesn’t get hotter than this!

It took grit and determination to climb her way to the top of male-dominated Hollywood. Now, with three Oscars under her belt, Dahlia Morrow is banking everything on her next film. She doesn’t need some bad-boy actor cramping her style. Especially when Guy Boudreaux starts putting the moves on her, tempting the hardworking producer to mix pleasure with business.

With an impressive list of blockbusters under his belt, Guy is looking for something more than another ticket to stardom. He’s heard the rumors about the trail of broken hearts the ambitious diva has left behind. Once he’s tasted Dahlia’s passion, he vows to be her one and only. Yet when they are tested by jealousy, betrayal and a secret that binds the powerful Boudreaux and Stallion families, will Guy be able to prove to Dahlia that she’s the only leading lady for him?

“Is something wrong?”

she questioned,

concern washing over her face.

“No,” Guy replied as he suddenly slipped both his arms around her waist and torso and pulled her tightly to him.

The gesture knocked the wind from Dahlia’s lungs as she felt her body melding easily against his. She clutched the front of Guy’s T-shirt, her eyes lifted to his. His stare was intoxicating and Dahlia could feel herself slipping into the depths of his gaze, losing every ounce of her sensibilities in a wealth of longing. She suddenly felt as if a part of her soul was sliding home. The connection was so strong, so intense that she gasped loudly, the shock of the moment making it difficult for her to breathe.

Without giving it a second thought Dahlia wrapped her arms around Guy’s neck. His mouth was only a fraction of an inch from hers, and in a swift, delicate motion Guy suddenly kissed her, capturing her mouth with determination as he pressed his closed lips against her closed lips. His touch was velvet, soft and gentle, the sweetest caress of skin against skin, and Dahlia instinctively knew that no other man could ever kiss her like that.

DEBORAH FLETCHER MELLO

Writing since forever, Deborah Fletcher Mello can’t imagine herself doing anything else. Her first romance novel, Take Me To Heart, earned her a 2004 Romance Slam Jam nomination for Best New Author. In 2005 she received Book of the Year and Favorite Heroine nominations for her novel The Right Side of Love, and in 2009 won an RT Book Reviews Reviewer’s Choice Award for her ninth novel, Tame a Wild Stallion. Deborah’s eleventh novel, Promises to a Stallion, earned her a 2011 Romance Slam Jam nomination for Hero of the Year.

For Deborah, writing is as necessary as breathing and she firmly believes that if she could not write she would cease to exist. For Deborah, the ultimate thrill is to weave a story that leaves her audience feeling full and complete, as if they’ve just enjoyed an incredible meal. Born and raised in Connecticut, Deborah now maintains base camp in North Carolina but considers home to be wherever the moment moves her.

Passionate Premiere

Deborah Fletcher Mello

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Reader,

Welcome to the Boudreaux family out of New Orleans! Much like my beloved Stallion family, I am just head over heels for the Boudreauxs. And I’m hoping you’ll come to love them as much as I do.

The family is headed by parents Senior and Katherine Boudreaux and there are nine siblings in all: Mason, Maitlyn, Donovan, Katrina, Darryl, Kendrick, Kamaya, Guy and Tarah. What I love about this family is that they are just plain “folk,” a family bonded by much love. Each has achieved varying levels of success and wealth in their lives. There’s the business tycoon, the agent, the judge, the engineer, the entrepreneur, the free spirit, the actor and the student. What is constant between them all is that they are grounded in their faith and their love for God and family. With the Boudreaux there will be some drama, much drama and drama to the nth degree. And, of course, you can always expect a Stallion or two to drop by when you least expect. The doors are open for much to come and I can’t begin to tell you how excited I am!

As always, I appreciate the love and support that you continue to show me. I love to hear what you think so please don’t hesitate to contact me at DeborahMello@aol.com.

Until the next time, take care and God bless.

With much love,

Deborah Fletcher Mello

www.deborahmello.blogspot.com

To Donna and Doris

and great new friendships.

May you both be surrounded by an abundance of love,

now and always.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 1

“Dahlia!”

“Here, Dahlia!”

“Dahlia, smile!”

Dahlia Morrow could not have been happier as she stepped out of the limousine in front of the Kodak Theatre on Hollywood Boulevard for the Eighty-Fifth Academy Awards. The paparazzi were desperate for her attention as cameras flashed around her and complete strangers screamed her name as if they were old friends.

“We love you, Dahlia!”

Dahlia stood in the requisite pose at the beginning of the red carpet, one hand perched pristinely against the curve of her hip. She smiled sweetly as her gaze skated over the landscape of actors and film critics, photographers and television hosts who were out in full force.

Being front and center was typical for the long list of film personalities present, but few filmmakers had ever received the kind of attention that Dahlia was receiving. Dahlia Morrow was an exception to the iconic rules; her fame had grown to significant proportions despite her best efforts to stay out of the limelight. From the start of her career to that very moment, the attention lavished on her had been formidable, as if she’d been the face in front of the cameras and not the brain trust behind them. And all because of her very brief romantic connection to one of the film industry’s biggest stars; the majority of it had been headline fodder for the tabloids. Recognizing an opportunity, Dahlia had fostered the public’s fascination with her into a highly recognized brand. Turning that moment of cause célèbre to her advantage now made her accomplishments instant news success.

Dahlia continued her slow stroll down the red carpet, pausing for snapshots and interviews. All of her hard work for the past two years had culminated in this one evening and she wanted to savor every moment of it. She paused in reflection, the moment captured for posterity as cameras continued to flash around her. Her brilliant smile dazzled her admirers.

Her first film project had been a two-minute short, a senior project in college. Her film teacher had submitted the assignment to a nationwide competition, and when Dahlia’s had been selected best overall, winning her an internship with one of the largest film studios on the West Coast, her career in the movie industry was born.

And tonight her talent was being acknowledged by the industry with her latest film, Victory’s Daughter, which was nominated for seven Academy Awards, including Best Picture and Best Director. Reviewers, pundits and bookies were predicting Victory’s Daughter would sweep the Oscars, and Dahlia was betting on herself, as well.

This was her night, and Dahlia imagined that the only thing that could have made the moment more perfect was if she was walking the red carpet with a man she was head over heels in love with. Walking the red carpet with Drake Houston, however, would do. The renowned actor and playwright reveled in his own notoriety. Besides, he looked good with his windblown blond locks and ocean-blue eyes. Side by side they made a handsome couple. It would play nicely on the entertainment news and the cover of Variety magazine, Dahlia thought.

She beamed as one of the top radio personalities and television hosts rushed her with a microphone in his hand. In her classic Christian Dior couture gown and Christian Louboutin red-bottomed heels, she looked absolutely stunning. And her face radiated joy.

“Ryan, it’s great to be here!” Dahlia exclaimed.

“Well, you look great,” the host declared. “How does it feel to be the center of attention tonight?”

Dahlia smiled sweetly. “Well, I can tell you that I’m immensely proud that Victory’s Daughter has gotten the many accolades it has. I loved the story, and I loved being able to tell it on film. I have to acknowledge the amazing cast and crew who helped to make it such a success. I couldn’t have done it without them, and I’m confident that Brad, Hillary and Halle will all walk away with Oscars tonight for their stunning performances.”

After fielding a few more questions, Dahlia continued to make her way down the red-carpeted path, posing for pictures and doing short interviews for the other major networks until she and Drake made their way to the building’s entrance and were whisked inside and escorted to their seats.

Once inside she expressed her annoyance with her escort. “Drake, dear, you are going to wrinkle my dress with all the hugging. I need a little breathing room, my friend.”

Drake chuckled warmly. “Can you blame me for wanting to hold tight to you, beautiful? You know how much I adore you, Dahlia!” He leaned to kiss her closed mouth but was met with her cheek instead.

The woman rolled her eyes, taking a deep inhale of breath. “Drake, you know I adore you and I consider you one of my closest friends, but you and I don’t roll like that. And I hate having to say that over and over again. I don’t want us to become bad friends, so please—” she paused momentarily “—please, cut me some slack!”

Drake heaved a deep sigh and nodded. “I had to try, Dahlia. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t?” he asked with a slight shrug and a wry smile.

Dahlia chuckled softly, reaching up to give him a light kiss on his cheek. “I still love you, but you’ll need to find someone else to take home to bed tonight.”

Laughing, Drake gave her a quick wink. “You won’t be disappointed if I do?”

She shook her head. “Not at all! But for now I need to go freshen up my makeup. Why don’t you go say hello to Eastwood? He looks like he wants to speak with you,” she said as she turned. She tossed him a quick look over her shoulder. “And don’t worry if I don’t come back. I’ll make sure there’s someone else here to take my place.” She sauntered in the opposite direction.

“Take care of that for me!” Drake laughed as he blew her a kiss.

Out in the lobby, she gestured for one of the Academy pages. The young woman smiled excitedly at her. “Yes, Ms. Morrow? How may I help you?”

“I absolutely love my dress,” Dahlia whispered as she leaned in conspiratorially. “But it’s not the most comfortable thing to sit down in.” She giggled softly. “Would you please send a seat-filler to my spot? I plan to stay in the greenroom until it’s my turn to present.”

“Yes, Ms. Morrow. Will Mr. Houston be joining you?”

Dahlia shook her head. “No, don’t disturb him. He’ll be fine. Just send someone very, very pretty to sit beside him,” she said as she headed down the corridor toward the back of the stage, where there was a holding area for performers and those who were presenting.

As she rounded the corner, Dahlia ran smack into Owen Kestner, one of the evening’s nominees for Best Supporting Actor. A former NFL professional, the rough-and-tumble linebacker smiled at her excitedly.

“Dahlia Morrow! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” the handsome man exclaimed.

“Owen, how are you?” Dahlia said sweetly.

“Just a little nervous. How about you?”

Dahlia nodded. “Nervous, too, but excited.” She met his gaze evenly, taking note of his good looks and muscular frame. There was a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he stared at her intently. “So who’s your date this evening?” she asked coyly.

The man chuckled warmly. “I’m riding solo tonight,” he said, tossing her a quick wink. “But I saw you came with Drake Houston.”

Dahlia smiled as she took a step closer to him. She drew her fingers against the front of his shirt, adjusting his bow tie and the front of his tuxedo jacket. She tilted her head to stare up at him. “I did come with Drake, but it doesn’t mean I’ll be leaving with him,” she said, her tone dropping to a seductive whisper.

Owen smiled, his eyes brightening with interest. “And I imagine you’ll be hitting all the A-list parties after the ceremony?”

Dahlia grinned. “If that works for you?” she said, sensing that her A-list access was all that he would be looking for.

“Would you mind if my friend Charles tagged along?” he queried, his eyes wide with anticipation.

Dahlia laughed. “Not at all.”

Owen nodded eagerly, his smile bright. “My limo or yours?”

Dahlia laughed, winking her own eye. “Yours. I don’t want to leave my friend Drake stranded.”

* * *

“But it’s not like you had tickets?” Mason Boudreaux said, eyeing his younger brother with confusion. “Or did you have tickets?”

Guy Boudreaux cut his eyes skyward, annoyed by his older brother’s question. He nodded his head, the long length of his dreadlocks waving against his broad shoulders. “Of course I had tickets. Good seats, as a matter of fact. And invitations to the best Oscar parties. You can’t beat that kind of networking, brother!”

Mason nodded his understanding. “Well, I appreciate you giving up the Oscars to make it to my wedding.”

“What are best men for?” Guy said, beaming widely as he looked from his brother to his new sister-in-law.

The newly minted Phaedra Boudreaux smiled back. “So, what will you do when you do get back to California?” she asked, snuggling close to her new husband.

“I’ll be filming a commercial next week. I’m now the spokesman for the new Chanel for Men cologne.”

Having a lightbulb moment, Guy suddenly leaned forward in his seat. “Hey, by the way, Phaedra, I could really use some new head shots. Do you think you can hook me up?”

Mason rolled his eyes. “That means he wants a family discount!” he said as he hugged Phaedra tightly.

“No,” Guy protested. “That means I want it free.”

Phaedra, an award-winning professional photographer, laughed. “I think we could probably work something out.”

Guy winked. “I’d like that,” he said, laughing easily, his magnetic smile beaming brightly.

Mason shook his head. After a lengthy holiday abroad he was ready to be off a plane and back on land. He’d needed to resolve some unfinished business in Thailand, and the past week had been a test of his fortitude. He was thankful to finally be back in the United States and headed home.

After whirlwind visits to Asia and France, he and his family had stopped in London to refuel and again in New Orleans to drop off his sister Kamaya and her twin, Kendrick, at their parents’ home. Now they were headed to Dallas, Texas, to spend time with the Stallion family, Phaedra’s newfound kin, four brothers who shared her bloodline. Guy would be continuing on to Los Angeles by his lonesome. And Guy was anxious to get back.

“My money’s on Victory’s Daughter to win Best Picture,” Guy was saying. He and Phaedra were knee-deep in a conversation about movies.

“I absolutely loved Victory’s Daughter,” Phaedra exclaimed. “And it has to get an award for Best Cinematography. The imagery was spectacular!”

“Have you ever thought about doing films?” Guy asked, remembering that his new sister-in-law was renowned for her skills as a photojournalist.

Phaedra shook her head. “Not really. I love still photography. I can’t imagine myself doing anything else.”

“I understand that,” Guy said. “That’s how I feel about acting.”

“So, who else do you think will win tonight?” Mason interjected.

Guy paused for a minute. “I’m betting on Dahlia Morrow for Best Director, and Halle stole the show with her performance as Victory, so she’s my bet for Best Actress.”

“Do you know Dahlia?” Phaedra queried.

Guy shook his head. “No, but I’ve been looking for an opportunity to meet her. I would love to be in one of her films.”

Phaedra smiled. “Well, I’d love to introduce you two. Dahlia and I are sorority sisters. We’ve been good friends for years,” she noted casually.

Guy nodded excitedly, gesturing with two thumbs pointed skyward. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about, another hookup! I am truly loving you, sister-in-law.”

Chapter 2

Leslie Stanton met Dahlia at the front door of her office with a large caffe latte and the morning paper. The robust black woman was shaking her head as Dahlia crossed the room to her upholstered chair and took a seat.

“Pray tell, how did you manage to have two dates for the Oscars?”

Dahlia shrugged. “Congratulations to you, too,” she said, meeting the woman’s gaze.

Leslie laughed. “Congratulations! It was an Oscar landslide! You don’t see that every year.”

Dahlia laughed with her. “Next time we’re sweeping Visual Effects and Best Original Screenplay, too. Mark my words!” she said as she opened the paper to the front page and stared.

The headline read “Oscar’s Golden Girl” and featured three images: Dahlia standing alone page center, a shot of her and Drake Houston to the left and another of her and Owen Kestner to the right. The tabloids were having a field day thinking she had left Drake standing at the Academy door while she’d partied the night away with Owen. She shook her head as she took a sip of her morning drink.

“Did you sleep with him?” Leslie asked, dropping into the seat in front of the large desk.

“Him who?”

“Whichever man you left with,” Leslie said with a raised eyebrow.

“I left with Owen, but he went home with his good friend Charles,” Dahlia said, peering over the top of her coffee cup. “His very good friend,” she emphasized, hinting at the relationship that had already been gossiped about in hushed whispers.

Wide-eyed, Leslie shook her head and chuckled. “Hush yo’ mouth!”

“So did you sleep with the other one?” Leslie continued.

“I never sleep with any of them. That’s why I have such a problem when I want to get rid of them. Most men think if they can’t bed you on their timetable, then your virtue is something they suddenly need to conquer.”

Her friend laughed. “Since you mentioned it, Drake called for you,” she said. “Something about doing dinner this week if you’re available.”

“See!” Dahlia exclaimed. “They just won’t go away.”

Leslie laughed as she tossed a stack of folders onto Dahlia’s desk. “You have back-to-back appointments starting at eleven o’clock. First, there’s a conference call with the casting agency, then lunch with the Bresdan Arts Foundation to discuss financing and then the interview with Oprah and her people. From there you have a photo shoot for People magazine, an hour with your personal trainer and then dinner with the studio execs,” Leslie concluded as she tapped one last notation into Dahlia’s smartphone.

She passed the device to her friend. “Your alarms are all set on vibrate. Stay on schedule and you should be done for the day by nine but by latest ten o’clock tonight. And don’t forget to call your aunt Minnie and wish her a happy birthday.”

Dahlia chuckled softly. “See, when would I actually have time to sleep with a man if you didn’t put it on my schedule?”

“So, I need to schedule some quality alone time with Drake so you can get you some?”

“Uh, no!”

“Owen?”

“Uh, double no!”

Leslie laughed with her. “Well, we need to schedule something and soon because you can’t keep tossing these boys away like you do your shoes.”

“I never toss my shoes away. I love my shoes.”

“But you only wear them three, maybe four times. I can’t remember the last time a man lasted that long with you.”

“My shoes don’t get in my way. A man usually will.”

“Well, every woman needs herself a DOC,” Leslie said, her eyebrows lifted, her expression humorous. “We need to find you one, maybe even two.”

Dahlia looked momentarily confused. “What is a DOC?” she questioned, her own eyebrows raised in query.

Leslie laughed. “DOC...dick-on-command!” she said.

The two women giggled until tears were raining from their eyes.

Leslie gestured for her to get a move on it. “There is a car downstairs waiting for you. The driver has your itinerary and will be at your beck and call until he drops you at your front door tonight. Take the conference call on your way to the restaurant.”

Dahlia blew out a deep sigh as she headed in the direction of the door. Leslie called her name just as her hand reached for the knob.

“Yes?”

“I’m really proud of you, Dahlia. You really done good, girl!”

Dahlia met her friend’s bright smile with one of her own. “We done good, girl! ’Cause I couldn’t have done any of it without you.”

* * *

Disconnecting the conference call, Dahlia took a quick moment to close her eyes and reflect. The limousine was stuck tire-deep in a line of midday traffic, crawling at a snail’s pace toward her afternoon appointment. Her day was just getting started and already she was wishing that it could be over. But a breather wasn’t going to propel her career skyward. Only hard work would make this year’s awards program seem like practice for what she hoped to accomplish in the next few years.

Making movies wasn’t easy, and Dahlia predicted that because of her sentimental connection to the project, making her next movie would prove to be the biggest challenge of her career. With most of the preproduction tasks already in the works, she still had a lengthy list of things that needed to be accomplished.

The script for her next project was all her, written the year she’d graduated from film school. She’d been fine-tuning it ever since, determined to create a work of sheer perfection if such a thing were possible. With her award-winning night, she wanted to ensure that the studios would be well on board, and she had her fingers crossed that her scheduled dinner with the executives would be their green light on the project.

If the studio approved, financing was a given. But Dahlia already had a plan B in place, just in case, knowing that in the film industry nothing was ever as easy as it seemed. And with a multimillion-dollar budget at risk, Dahlia was determined to make the film work. The director was a given, as well, because no one but Dahlia was going to control this film’s artistic and dramatic aspects.

Now they were casting, and confirmation had come that Golden Globe winner Zahara Ginolfi has signed on for the lead female role. Dahlia smiled, nodding her head ever so slightly. Once she found the perfect male lead, the rest would be easy as pie. The casting director already had a prospect in mind, a man Dahlia was scheduled to meet the following week.

Dahlia knew that finding the perfect locations, budgeting and signing on the production team and crew, in addition to a host of other chores, were already in the works and would fall into place when she needed them to. She had faith and a fire in the pit of her stomach to make it happen no matter what sacrifices she might have to make. And Dahlia was used to making sacrifices—the greatest forfeitures occurred in her personal life.

There was no time for a relationship with anyone who was anxious for her attention. So Dahlia refused to allow herself to get close to any man who might be a distraction or demanding of her time. And despite what people thought—the tabloids had dubbed her the “love ’em and leave ’em wildflower”—she didn’t have herself a DOC, no man that she kept around for convenience or otherwise. Folks didn’t even begin to have a clue about Dahlia’s love life. Because Dahlia had yet to find love, and when she did, she couldn’t imagine herself being so casual about it.

The driver pulled the car in front of Osteria Mozza Restaurant. Opening her eyes, Dahlia took a deep breath of air. Taking a quick glance into her compact mirror, she dabbed at her nose with the powder puff. With her game face on she headed inside, ready to talk a few thousand dimes out of a few thousand rocks.

Chapter 3

Guy took one last lap around the enclosed track. Dwight Brooks, his personal trainer, waited with a stopwatch at the finish line. Dwight had spent the past three hours putting him through his paces, and Guy was past ready to be done.

Guy came to an abrupt stop in front of his friend, bending forward at the waist, his palms pressed against his upper thighs as he fought to catch his breath. Dwight slapped him heartily on his back.

“Nice! That was one of your best times,” he said, jotting notes into a small notebook he’d pulled from his back pocket.

Guy nodded, inhaling deeply. He stood upright, his hands moving to the line of his hips. “Thanks, but it feels like you have me training for a marathon and not a movie.”

“Same difference,” Dwight answered with a shrug of his shoulders.

Guy chuckled. “I hear you,” he said as the two moved in the direction of the locker room.

“So, what time is your audition?” Dwight asked, eyeing the watch on his wrist.

“Soon. I have just enough time to shower and change.”

“This one’s big, huh?”

“Big enough,” Guy said as he unlocked the metal enclosure that housed his personal possessions. “I’m auditioning for Dahlia Morrow,” he pronounced, lifting his gym bag from inside the locker.

“Sweet!”

“Yes, I hear she is,” Guy said, a smirk pulling at his full lips.

Dwight laughed. “And I presume the part is, as well?”

Guy laughed with him. “It’s a great role, actually. I loved the script,” he said. “I’m thinking it’s destiny, too, because I was just telling my family that I wanted to meet her. Apparently, she and my sister-in-law are old friends. So, I’m thinking it’s fate in action that I mention her name and now I’m auditioning for her.”

“I’m sure it is,” Dwight agreed. He extended a closed hand in Guy’s direction, and the two men bumped fists. “I’ve got to run. Good luck with your audition,” he said. With a slight wink of his eye, he added, “And the woman. I will see you tomorrow, same time.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Guy responded as he headed in the direction of the showers. “But go easy on a brother next time.”

“Yeah, like that’s going to happen. I have a reputation to maintain, too, you know!”

Guy waved goodbye, chuckling heartily as he watched his friend exit the gym.

Stripping out of his sports clothes, Guy stepped into a warm shower, allowing the spray of water to cascade over his face and down his broad chest. As he lathered his deep caramel–complexioned skin with a spice-scented body wash, the thick suds painted his naked form with a luxurious froth. His muscles had finally begun to relax beneath the rise of the warm mist, and he savored the sensations, stretching the tightness out of each sinew.

He heaved a deep sigh. He had only been half kidding when he’d said that fate was directing his footsteps. His agent’s early morning call had come as a complete surprise. Both of them had been stunned that the casting agent for Dahlia Morrow’s next film had requested he meet with the lady herself without asking him for a screen test.

Despite his own A-list status in the industry and a long list of blockbuster movies under his belt, he was still occasionally made to jump through hoops for leading men roles in movies that he didn’t actively pursue or have a hand in producing. And despite the many leading men roles out there, the selection for black males was still a bit slim. But filmmakers like Dahlia Morrow were attempting to change the dynamics, and some sort of cosmic fate was bringing the two of them together.

Stepping out of the shower, he reached for an oversize white towel, swiping at the dampness against his skin. Thirty minutes later he was dressed and headed out to meet providence, hopeful that Dahlia Morrow, and kismet, were about to grace him with favor.

* * *

Although it had already been a very long day, Dahlia couldn’t help feeling like the rest of it was going to be well worth her efforts. But as she disconnected her cell phone, turning the ringer to vibrate, she couldn’t hide the frustration that painted her expression. Finding funding for her movie was proving to be the bane of her existence; the studios had been a huge disappointment to her. Despite its accolades and having grossed over fifty million dollars in box office receipts, Victory’s Daughter was still considered “underperforming” by industry standards, and that fact had potential investors for her next film all too ready to tell her no.

But the box office wasn’t a true measure of the film’s worth. Nor did it speak to the film as art or the merit of her next venture. So telling Dahlia no only served to make her want to prove them all wrong, moving her to consider investing her own money into the project. A prospect her attorneys, financial advisers and friends were adamantly against.

Doing what she loved shouldn’t be so hard, she mused. But Hollywood was ruled by a patriarchy with black women existing only along the sidelines of the industry. Although perceived as a liberal, diverse space that welcomed creativity and difference, the film industry was still overwhelmingly white and male—a good ol’ boys club in full control. It made it difficult at best for Dahlia to do what she loved.

Despite women making films for more than one hundred years, Kathryn Bigelow had been the first woman to win an Academy Award for directing, taking home the prize. Dahlia was the first woman of color to claim the honor and, at the age of twenty-eight, also the youngest filmmaker, male or female, to be honored. But women filmmakers of any race or age had yet to experience the same levels of success as their male counterparts, and Dahlia was intent on changing that. Wanting more than anything to just tell good stories, she had to be diligent and persistent and, like every black woman who was making films, she had to be resilient.

Dahlia took a sip of her bottled springwater, tapping heavily against the tabletop with the pen that rested between her fingers. She glanced down at the diamond-encrusted watch that adorned her slim wrist. She’d arrived early for her casting, and she still had a few minutes before the actor she was meeting was due to arrive.

The casting agency had scheduled this appointment. If she’d been able, Dahlia would have canceled without giving it a second thought. But she needed to stay on schedule, and staying on schedule meant finding a male lead and locking him into contract as quickly as possible. So canceling hadn’t been a real option for her.

Dahlia looked down at the IMDB résumé the casting agency had faxed over to her. She was meeting one of Hollywood’s golden boys, the infamous Guy Boudreaux. His professional résumé was a plethora of some very big box office successes; his recent portrayal of the new James Bond authenticated a career that would surely go down in the history books. Having spent the past evening watching two of his independent films, Dahlia could not deny the man’s talent. His ability to capture the essence of his characters and breathe life into them surpassed his youthful twenty-eight years and made him exactly what Dahlia was looking for in her male lead.

A commotion at the restaurant’s entrance drew her attention. She looked up to see Guy Boudreaux as he was accosted by an eager female fan. He stopped to sign an autograph, and there was no missing his welcoming demeanor as he posed for a picture with a family of five, chatting with the group as if they were old friends.

Dahlia’s eyes widened with interest. Guy Boudreaux was imposing in stature, standing just over six feet tall. Dressed in a black silk suit and white dress shirt opened at the collar, he was quite the male specimen. His chest was broad, flanked by wide shoulders. His legs were long, and the slacks he wore nicely complemented the hard, full curves of a very high backside. His complexion was dark caramel with the faintest undertone of buttercream, warm and delectable as it stretched taut over clearly defined muscles. A crown of black dreadlocks hung past his shoulders, and just a hint of facial hair, the beginnings of a neatly trimmed mustache and goatee, complemented his chiseled facial features. He was a Greek Adonis with an artistic aura, his look a nice blend of bohemian flair and classic styling. It was clear that he wore his confidence like a neon blanket draped over his torso, bright and abundant. The man was handsome beyond words, and Dahlia felt her breath catch in her throat as he crossed the room in her direction.

“Ms. Morrow, Guy Boudreaux,” he said as he extended a large hand in greeting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Dahlia lifted her gaze to meet his, feeling overwhelmingly starstruck as words failed her. She nodded as he clasped her hand beneath his, shaking it firmly. His palm was silky smooth as it glided over hers like a sensual kiss.

“May I sit down?” Guy asked, amusement crossing his expression, her hand still trapped beneath his.

Dahlia took a deep breath as she nodded her head, slowly pulling her hand from his. Her fingers tingled, the sensation sweeping like wildfire through her body. It was intense and disturbing, and she tried to stall the feelings by clasping both of her hands together in her lap. “Excuse me,” she said, clearing her throat. “Of course, have a seat, Mr. Boudreaux.”

She eyed him keenly as he slid into the leather-covered booth beside her.

“Please, call me Guy. I hope I’m not late,” he said, his gaze still locked with hers, a brilliant smile of pearl-white teeth beaming at her.

She shook her head, desperate to clear the cloud that had mysteriously consumed her. “No, you’re right on time actually,” she finally answered. “And it’s definitely a pleasure to meet you. Your reputation has preceded you.”

“Yours, as well,” Guy said with a light chuckle. “Congratulations on your recent victory.”

Dahlia smiled sweetly. “Thank you. I hope you know that I’m looking to do that again with this new project.”

Guy gestured ever so slightly with his head, a warm smile filling his face. “I’m thinking that won’t be a problem. It’s a great story, the script is on point and with me as the lead character, it can’t help but be a success,” he said teasingly.

Dahlia chuckled warmly. “So, tell me what you really think,” she said.

“Seriously, this project has great potential, and I think I’d be a wonderful asset to your vision. But if I can ask you one question?”

“Of course.”

“Tell me more about the story. When I read it I got the sense that there was some background history there that wasn’t being told.”

Dahlia smiled, her eyes locking with his. She nodded her head slowly, her thoughts drifting ever so briefly. Guy was right, and his intuition gave her reason to pause.

“There is history there. My history. The lead characters are modeled after my grandparents. They met in 1935 when my grandmother was barely fourteen and my grandfather was sixteen. They were inseparable from that moment on. Both of their parents had forbidden them to be together and they were defiant, doing exactly what they wanted instead. And when Granny became pregnant at a young age, it set off a chain of events that neither of them were really prepared for.”

“And they really did meet in a dance hall?”

Dahlia nodded her head. “My grandmother was an extraordinary dancer. She loved the music and being out on a dance floor. And my grandfather loved her and whatever it was that she loved.”

“Your grandparents, are they still living?”

She took a deep breath, a hint of tears misting her eyes. “No. He passed on when I was just a little girl, and my grandmother died last year. She was ninety-one.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Dahlia shrugged her shoulders as she took another deep breath. The memory of losing her beloved grandmother still haunted her. The woman’s passing had been expected; the family had sat vigil for almost a week in one of the best hospice facilities in the city. But even the knowing hadn’t been able to minimize the tremendous hurt that had completely devastated Dahlia when the moment had come.

There was no missing the emotion that passed over Dahlia’s face. Guy found himself taken aback by her expression. The pain of it felt like a needle prick through his heart, and in that moment he would have done anything to take the hurt from her eyes and make everything well again. He resisted the temptation to reach out and touch her, to strum his fingers against the back of her hand and down the length of her arm.

As if reading his thoughts, Dahlia pulled her hands back into her lap. She met his gaze, and his stare was like a soothing balm. Guy smiled. The warmth of it seared through her like a bolt of lightning. She gasped lightly.

Clearing her throat, she finally said, “I am still fine-tuning the script. I’ve also felt like there was something that was missing in the story line, something I haven’t been able to define yet.”

Dahlia then tossed him a smile of her own. “What I can tell you is that when they met, my grandmother had snuck out of the house to see Nat King Cole. He was performing at that dance hall. He was in his teens himself, his own career just beginning.”

“Nat King Cole! Amazing!”

“Granny thought so, too. She was enamored with the man and always said that Nat would be her second husband if my granddaddy didn’t act right.”

Guy chuckled softly. “Good to know. ‘When I Fall in Love’ and ‘Dream a Little Dream of Me’ were two of my favorites of his.”

Dahlia’s smile widened, pleasantly surprised that he was even familiar with the late crooner’s bibliography.

Taking note of the astonished look in her eyes, Guy laughed heartily. “I am an old soul,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Interesting.” Dahlia leaned forward in her seat, her elbows coming to rest on the table as she clasped her hands beneath her chin. She sat in quiet deliberation for a brief moment before continuing, “I’ll be honest with you, Guy, it’s looking like the studios are not going to back this project. Not as I had hoped they would. It seems that I will be producing this film independently, on a significantly lower budget, but I intend for it to rival any mainstream film production out there.”

“So, what you’re telling me is that I won’t be making a million plus for this role?”

“Not even close. Still interested?”

Guy met her gaze and held it, intently studying the delicate lines of her features. Dahlia Morrow was a stunning woman. Even more beautiful than the magazine images of her that he’d seen. She had beautiful eyes, dark seductive orbs that a man could lose himself in if he were so inclined. Her full lips parted ever so slightly, her tongue snaking past to quickly lick the line of her mouth. When she did he felt an unexpected surge of heat through his groin. He suddenly reached for her bottle of water and took a deep swig.

Eyebrows lifted, Dahlia laughed at his forwardness. “We can order you your own drink if you want,” she said, still giggling softly as she snatched her water bottle from his hands.

Guy grinned sheepishly. “Umm...that’s umm...not necessary,” he muttered. “You looked like you didn’t mind sharing.” His expression was teasing as his eyes locked with hers for the umpteenth time.

There was a pause as they sat staring at each other, both grinning widely.

“You’re funny,” Dahlia said, finally breaking the silence.

“Not as funny as you are, Ms. Morrow!”

Dahlia rolled her eyes.

“On a serious note,” Dahlia said, deliberately changing the subject, “this movie is proving to be more of a challenge than I anticipated.”

“You’re a beautiful, black woman trying to move a mountain, Dahlia. No one said that would be easy.”

“No, they didn’t. Nor did they say my wanting to move that mountain means you or any other man has to be there pushing with me.”

Guy smiled. It was an easy lift to his mouth that warmed Dahlia’s spirit. “What kind of a man would I be if I wasn’t willing to give a woman who is so determined a helping hand?”

Dahlia considered his question before responding. “Not the man I would want starring in my next movie,” she said as she extended a manicured hand in his direction. Dahlia didn’t miss his holding tight to her fingers a second longer than necessary, nor did she miss the heat that seemed to rise out of nowhere and radiate between them. She pulled her hand away, fighting not to show that she was uncomfortable with the sensations sweeping over her, vulnerability painting her expression.

Grateful for the alarm, she stole a quick glance at her smartphone as it vibrated against the tabletop. “I look forward to working with you, Mr. Boudreaux,” she said as she stood up, moving to leave. “I will give your agent a call and make a formal offer. Welcome to my movie.”

“The pleasure will be mine, Ms. Morrow,” he said as he came to his feet. He tossed her a quick wink of his eye. “And thanks for the water.”

Dahlia laughed warmly. “Don’t thank me yet, Guy!” she said as she made her exit.

Guy stared intently after Dahlia as she eased her way out of the room. His eyes were not the only ones to follow after her, and he had to appreciate the view along with her other admirers. Dahlia Morrow was captivatingly beautiful.

Guy smiled widely, his gaze skating the lines of her formfitting dress. The red silk garment she wore was like wet paint slathered over the curves of her full bustline, thin waist and lush derriere. The woman had curves, a Rubenesque figure, all the stuff that could make a strong man beg on his knees for her attention.

As the waiter paused at the table, depositing the unpaid tab for that one bottle of water, Guy had to laugh, completely intrigued by Dahlia. As he deposited a twenty-dollar bill onto the table, he hated to admit that begging on his knees had surely crossed his mind, if only for a very brief moment.

Chapter 4

Leslie shook her head as she stood with Dahlia’s requisite morning beverage in hand. Dahlia eyed her warily as she took hold of the cup and took the first sip of her drink.

“What?” Dahlia questioned, her eyes wide with curiosity. “What now?”

“You tell me,” Leslie said, blocking Dahlia’s path into her office.

“I don’t have a clue what you’re referring to,” Dahlia said, her curiosity peaked.

Leslie smirked, meeting Dahlia’s intense gaze. “Guy Boudreaux has been waiting for you. He’s in your office.”

Dahlia stood like stone, her mouth falling open in surprise. “Guy Boudreaux?”

Leslie nodded as she pointed to the closed office door. “And the casting agency delivered copies of his contract this morning. You didn’t tell me that Guy Boudreaux had said yes,” she whispered in a hushed breath.

“Must have slipped my mind,” Dahlia whispered nonchalantly back. She took another sip of her drink, avoiding the look her dear friend was giving her.

“Do you remember when Idris agreed to do your short film? You called me before the ink was dry on the paper.”

“I did.”

“And when Brad came on board for Victory you sent me a text message as the man was signing.”

“And your point?” Dahlia queried.

“You have a meeting with the black James Bond, the man agrees to be in your film and I only find out after the contracts are delivered and I find out from Guy and the delivery guy. That doesn’t sound out of the norm to you?”

Dahlia shrugged as a wide grin filled her face. “Okay, so maybe it’s a little unusual.”

“I wonder why,” Leslie said as she lifted a cashier’s check from the pile of folders in her hand and passed it to Dahlia. “He was just about to leave, and I was supposed to give this to you.”

Dahlia looked from the check to Leslie and back, her mouth dropping open in surprise. The six-figure amount was significant, and the accompanying note threw the woman completely off guard. Dahlia read it once, then a second and third time.

Leslie snatched the note from Dahlia’s hands. She read out loud, still whispering, “‘I look forward to doing business with you. We’ll negotiate my executive producer responsibilities over our next bottle. Your turn to buy this time. Guy Boudreaux.’”

Dahlia shook her head as she moved in the direction of the door.

Leslie stalled her one last time. “And Phaedra called. She and her new husband heard good things about your movie and they are also interested in investing.”

Dahlia shook her head. “Phaedra has a new husband?” she asked as her hand reached for the doorknob.

Her friend nodded. “A very wealthy husband. And her new hubby has very wealthy brothers, but then you already know that, right?”

A look of confusion crossed Dahlia’s face. “I do?”

Leslie laughed. “Uh, yeah! It seems she and your new executive producer are related by marriage.”

Dahlia’s eyes widened considerably. “Phaedra married Guy’s brother? Why weren’t we invited to the wedding? Were we invited to the wedding?”

Leslie laughed again.

“Apparently, it was a quiet ceremony with just the two of them and their immediate families. Call her. Our sorority sister has a lot to catch you up on. And when you’re done with your new friend in there, I want to hear every detail about your meeting with Guy Boudreaux and that bottle you two shared. Can’t believe you didn’t tell me you spent time with that fine man,” Leslie fussed as Dahlia shook her head.

Studying the generous check one more time, Dahlia wasn’t sure whether she should throw her arms around the man’s neck and hug him or squeeze the life out of him. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door to her office and stepped inside.

Guy Boudreaux sat in the leather executive’s chair behind her glass-and-metal desk. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, his leather loafers resting on the desk’s corner. His cell phone was tucked between his ear and shoulder as he chatted easily with someone on the other end, all the while flipping through the papers that had been on her desk.

As Dahlia closed the office door behind her, Guy greeted her with a wide grin and a slight wave of his hand. He seemed quite comfortable. Too comfortable, Dahlia thought. And damn, if he didn’t look good, too! Walking to where he sat, Dahlia snatched her files from his hands, a look of annoyance on her face. He continued to grin at her as she pulled his phone away and disconnected his call. She dropped the device into his lap, then gave him a not-so-gentle push to move out of her seat.

“Executive producer? Isn’t that a stretch?” she questioned.

Guy stood up, the length of his frame tall above her, and she was awed by the nearness of him. The man radiated body heat like an overworked furnace on a cold night. The heat was consuming, and she suddenly wanted to strip naked for relief. The sensations sweeping through her were unnerving. She took two steps back from him, fighting not to blatantly fan herself.

Guy laughed. “Well, hello to you, too, Dahlia.”

“Guy.” Dahlia eased her way around him to sit in her seat.

As she passed, her shoulder brushed against his arm, and the connection was like an igniting flame. Guy felt his body tense; the scent of her perfume threw lighter fluid on his rising emotions. Every muscle hardened beneath his skin. Dahlia gestured toward the empty chair, wishing for some distance between them.

Moving to the other side of the table and the cushioned chair in front of her desk, Guy sat down. He took a deep breath before he spoke, willing the tension away. “No, I don’t think it’s a stretch at all. In fact, I’m thinking it’s quite appropriate in light of my very generous contribution.”

Dahlia paused, fighting to focus her eyes on anything except his face. “I’m willing to concede that. As long as you understand it’s strictly honorary.” She crossed her arms over her chest, finally lifting her gaze to his.

Guy held her stare for a moment, startled by the intensity that pierced past her forest-thick lashes. The look she was giving him was intoxicating, and something like desire washed over him. He could only begin to imagine what she saw in his own eyes since desire was exactly what he was feeling for her. He crossed one leg over the other, hoping to hide the sudden rise of nature between them. He cleared his throat. “What? You mean you don’t want me to be hands-on?”

“Truthfully, I want you to be exceptionally hands-off,” Dahlia emphasized. “You get a script, you memorize and deliver your lines like the professional I know you are and it’ll be all good between us.”

“We’ll see about that,” he said lightly as he shifted the conversation, leaning forward in his seat. “What time are you buying me dinner tonight?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you know my friend Phaedra?”

“Do you always answer a question by changing the subject with another question?” Guy countered.

Dahlia shrugged, feigning disinterest. “I’m not buying you dinner. If anything, I’ll buy you a bottle of water, but that’s about it. I don’t mix business with pleasure, Mr. Boudreaux.”

Guy nodded. “I’m glad to hear that,” he responded, feigning his own disinterest, “because my intent is strictly business. I do, however, try to eat three square meals per day. And since I’m on a strict regimen, there’s little that’s pleasurable about it, not even the prospect of your company. So, I should be done by seven o’clock. Shall we meet at eight?”

Dahlia paused, the man’s arrogance taking her by surprise. There was a hint of teasing in his tone, and that annoyed her, as well. For a brief moment she thought about throwing him out on his very delectable behind, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’d riled her.

“Tonight won’t work. I have another commitment,” she said finally.

“A date?” Guy asked curiously.

She ignored his query, amused that he would even think that he could question her plans. “I’ll meet you tomorrow afternoon at Roscoe’s,” she responded. “Can you do three o’clock?”

Guy laughed. “Two would be better, so let’s split the difference. Will two-thirty work for you?”

“Two-thirty it is,” Dahlia said.

“Enjoy your date tonight, Dahlia,” Guy said, tossing her a quick wink of his eye. He stood up and made his way to the door. He stopped short, turning back around to face her. “Oh, and to answer your other question, Phaedra married my older brother, Mason. She and I are family.” His grin widened. “See you tomorrow, beautiful.” He made his exit, his expression eager at the prospect.

Without responding, Dahlia leaned back in her seat. Leslie drew her attention as she cleared her throat in the doorway. The two friends locked gazes.

“And you won’t do dinner why?” Leslie asked.

“Were you eavesdropping?”

“You know I was.”

Dahlia shook her head. “Because he expected that I would just jump at the opportunity, and I’m not giving him that satisfaction.”

Leslie laughed. “And lunch tomorrow will be your comeuppance?”

Dahlia smiled. “It’s not dinner and he’s not dictating the where and the when.”

Leslie’s eyes widened. “You like that man.”

Dahlia’s face scrunched up in annoyance, her eyes narrowing to thin slits. “He’s an employee.”

Leslie laughed again as she reached for Dahlia’s smartphone and accessed the calendar on the device. She quickly tapped an entry into the database before passing the gadget back to the other woman.

“Something I don’t know about?” Dahlia questioned, scanning the month’s activity page.

Shrugging her shoulders, Leslie exited the room, still giggling softly.

Dahlia couldn’t miss the appointments Leslie had noted for the following night and each day thereafter. The woman had scheduled hours of quality time for her and Guy Morrow, each notation followed by a string of hearts.

“Not funny!” Dahlia shouted. She had to laugh at her friend, shaking her head. But as she sat staring at the notation she couldn’t help but imagine the possibilities, because Guy Boudreaux definitely had her imagination running rampant.

Dahlia couldn’t remember the last time any man had taken her breath away, and meeting Guy had done just that. Everything about the delectable man had put her on sensory overload and ignited a fire through every nerve ending in her body. Guy Boudreaux had been a refreshing departure from the usual characters she’d come to know in Hollywood. His down-to-earth persona overshadowed the bad-boy, playboy image he often portrayed. The man had been funny, intuitive and too damn sexy for words. In fact, Dahlia mused, blowing out a deep sigh, Guy Boudreaux had been too much man for her to even begin to fathom, and she was giving every ounce of him much consideration.

* * *

“So, who’s the doll you’ve checked Google for a million times on your laptop?” Darryl Boudreaux asked as he scanned the screen of his older brother’s computer.

“What?”

“Dahlia Morrow. You’ve been spending a lot of time researching the woman. Is she an actress or something?”

Guy shook his head, reaching to close the lid of his laptop from his brother’s prying eyes.

“Hey, I was optimizing your hard drive!” Darryl intoned.

“No, you were being nosy.”

“I was doing that, too. She’s cute, though. The woman has a body and then some.”

Guy rolled his eyes at his brother’s comment. “She’s a filmmaker, one of the best. Do you follow the industry at all, Darryl?”

Darryl shrugged his broad shoulders. “I don’t even own a television, why would I follow the film industry?”

“Uh, maybe to support your big brother?”

“I can support you without denigrating my mind with the garbage they’re airing on TV these days. And I think I support you just fine. I installed your security system. I fixed your garbage disposal last week. I designed a new rooftop garden for you—construction starts in two days, by the way—and if you leave me alone, I can make sure you have the best access to the internet to keep scoping out your woman,” Darryl said as he lifted the computer’s top and resumed his search of Guy’s database.

Guy laughed. “I wasn’t scoping her out!”

Darryl cut his eyes toward his brother, indicating that he knew better and wasn’t buying his brother’s protests.

“You need to worry about your own love life,” Guy said, gesturing toward his brother’s cell phone, which was vibrating against the desktop. “What’s that, the hundredth time she’s called?”

Darryl scowled, annoyance painting his features. He’d been ignoring the device for over an hour as his soon-to-be-ex girlfriend blew up his cell phone. He shook his head. “I told Asia that it wasn’t working out and we needed to sit down and have a serious talk.”

“I’m sure that’s going to go well. I told you that girl was crazy from the start.”

Darryl shrugged again, turning back to his task. “By the way, Maitlyn said to call her. She has some questions about you and your new woman, too.”

“What did you say to her?”

“I didn’t say anything to her. You hire your sister to be your manager and you don’t think she’s not going to know everything that’s going on with you? Big brother, please. You even taught me better than that,” Darryl said with a wry laugh. “And I’d bet my last dollar that if Maitlyn suspects something, then Mommy and the rest of the girls already know.”

Guy headed to the bedroom of his penthouse apartment. He hated when his siblings peeped his hold card, and Darryl taking note of his interest in Dahlia was a point of consternation. His brother had read every card in his deck.

His sister Maitlyn asking questions was something else altogether. Once his sister began to pry into his business, she had reached a point of no return. The women in his family were never readily willing to give him or any of his brothers a break when it came to other women in their lives.

Darryl going out of his way to comment on Dahlia meant his brother had taken note of much more than Guy would have liked. He himself wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge his sudden interest in the beautiful woman.

Since their first meeting, the encounter in her office and agreeing to take the role in her movie, Guy had invested a lot of energy in discovering everything he could about Dahlia. He’d even broken one of his cardinal rules, calling up the friend of a friend of a friend, who’d allegedly dated Dahlia, to discreetly inquire about her. Everything he’d discovered said that she was a woman devoted to her craft, loyal to a fault and not at all caught up in the shallow facade of what a Hollywood powerhouse was expected to be.

Everyone he’d spoken to had only favorable things to say about Dahlia, not one individual cosigning the tabloid fodder that had been written about her in the past. And much had been written about Dahlia; the supermarket rags read like the gossip bible of all things Dahlia Morrow. But even the tabloids didn’t dispute her talents as a filmmaker, and that in and of itself provoked much thought. Guy was thinking that the exquisite and enigmatic Dahlia Morrow was a woman he really wanted to get to know better.

Chapter 5

Matthew, Mark, Luke and John Stallion were seated around the family breakfast table when their sister, Phaedra, made her way into the family home. The four brothers greeted her warmly as she rounded the table, planting kisses on each of their cheeks. Phaedra still marveled at the emotion that bubbled within her each time she was in their presence. Just months earlier she hadn’t had a clue about their existence, and now she was celebrating the joy of having brothers who cared about her well-being and family that loved her unconditionally. Discovering her link to the Stallion lineage had been a whirlwind experience, but she now found herself forever a Stallion, and she loved everything that represented.

“Welcome home,” John, her oldest brother, said as he gestured for her to take a seat at the table beside him.

“Where’s that new husband of yours?” Mark asked casually, his gaze turned toward the doorway.

“He’s headed to the office. Something about the property in Geneva having problems with their front office upgrade,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders.

Luke, the youngest of the Stallion brothers, nodded knowingly. “Geneva’s been a problem from start to finish. I’m hoping Mason can work his magic for us,” he said as he rose to his feet. He tossed his cloth napkin on the table. “I need to meet with him so that we can see if we can get this thing going.” Luke excused himself and exited the room.

Matthew glanced down at the watch on his wrist. “I have to run, as well, but when you get a chance, Phaedra, I need you to stop by my office. Our petition for your name change has been approved by the courts, and we just need to file the final paperwork to insure that all your legal documents reflect your new moniker.”

Mark eyed her curiously, his gaze sweeping around the table. “You changed your name?”

Phaedra nodded. “Yep! I guess I am officially Phaedra Stallion-Boudreaux now.”

John nodded his approval, which made Phaedra smile. As the patriarch of their small family, he was very opinionated about everything his siblings did, and Phaedra was no exception. His endorsement meant the world to her, and she found herself seeking out his opinion on most of her decisions, even her recent marriage to Mason Boudreaux.

Matthew leaned in to kiss her forehead before he headed for the door, Mark following close on his heels. “Katrina is upstairs with Jack,” Matthew said, referring to his wife and newborn son. “She said for you not to leave without coming up to see her. Something about the christening,” he said as he saluted them goodbye.

The familial connection with her brother being married to her husband’s sister was a source of great joy to her, and every time she thought about it she found herself smiling.

“So what’s on your agenda today?” John asked, his booming voice pulling at her attention.

“I was hoping to get your opinion on an investment,” Phaedra said, passing a prospectus in his direction.

With eyebrows raised, John took a moment to review the documents inside, leaning forward as he spread everything out before him. As Phaedra waited, she reached for one of the toasted bagels that rested on a ceramic platter in the center of the table, then slathered it with jalapeño-flavored cream cheese. By her third bite John was tapping numbers into a calculator application on his iPad. His expression was blank, and Phaedra was unable to get a read on what her big brother was thinking. By the time John was done, Phaedra was working on her second bagel, a bowl of fresh fruit and a third cup of coffee.

“So what do you think?” she queried when he finally placed the documents inside their manila folder and sat back in his seat.

He hesitated for a brief moment before responding. “Tell me why this project?” he asked.

“The filmmaker is a dear friend and sorority sister of mine.”

“Dahlia Morrow?”

“Correct. Dahlia and I went to school together. We’ve been the best of friends since the first day we met. We pledged together, and I love her to pieces. Dahlia is good at what she does. This script is one that is near and dear to her heart, and if anyone can bring it to the big screen and turn it into a box office sensation, Dahlia can. She needs help to get there, though, and I really want to help her. But I want to be smart about it, too.”

“Didn’t she just win an Oscar or something?” John asked.

Phaedra nodded. “Her last film, Victory’s Daughter, was nominated for seven Oscars and took Best Picture. Dahlia is the youngest and the first black woman to win an Oscar for Best Director.”

“And she has high hopes for this film. What’s it called again?”

“Passionate, after the name of the lead female character.”

“Has she cast her leads yet?”

“Zahara Ginolfi has signed on to play the part of Passionate.”

“Wow,” John exclaimed. “She’s good, and she has a huge following,” he said of the Grammy-winning songstress turned award-winning actress. “I’m impressed. What about the leading man?”

Phaedra grinned. “She just signed Mason’s brother,” she said excitedly.

John laughed. “The Guy Boudreaux! The black Bond himself. Very nice.”

“So should I invest?” Phaedra asked again, her confidence boosted by her brother’s enthusiasm.

John hesitated a second time, resting his elbows against the table and his chin against his fists. His head waved ever so slightly. “This is a tough one,” he started, meeting Phaedra’s gaze. “If you didn’t have a personal connection to the film I would probably advise against it.

“When people invest in films, it’s the potential for a high return that’s the draw, but it is such a big risk with way too many ifs for a novice investor. Movies only do well if it’s a good script, if it has good acting, if it has good production value and if it strikes a chord with distributors. If you are able to get past a number of those issues, the film can do well, but you could still lose everything you put into it if the distribution deals fall short.”

Phaedra nodded as she reflected on John’s comments.

He continued, “I think that in this case, the key reason for you to invest has to be more important than the potential return. You obviously believe in the message of the film and in the filmmaker. You like and support the movie’s producer and cast. I also get the impression that you like the glamour of being involved, an opportunity to bring attention to your own photography perhaps,” he said as he gestured toward the requisite camera she always carried with her. “This is why I say go for it. Consider it a tax write-off like you would if you were giving to a charity. That way it can still benefit you if it doesn’t work out.”

“Thanks,” Phaedra said, her excitement gleaming in her eyes. She threw her arms around her big brother’s neck and kissed his cheek. “I really appreciate your opinion,” she added.

John nodded, giving her a slight wink of his eye. “And after you stop by Matthew’s office, swing by mine and pick up a check for Dahlia. We have to support our family,” he said, his smile warming his dark face.

“I love you,” she said as she hugged him a second time. “And I know that Dahlia will appreciate the support.”

John laughed with her. “I love you, too,” he said.

Phaedra tossed back the last of her coffee. “I need to go up and see those nieces and nephews of ours,” she said as she set her mug back down on the table. “I need to see Marah, too. Is your wife upstairs?”

John shook his head. “No, Marah flew to New York this morning,” he said. “She and her sisters are franchising their dating business, and she’s meeting with some potential investors. She’ll be back tomorrow.”

Phaedra rose to her feet as she gave him a quick wave of her hand. “I’ll catch her tomorrow, then,” she said as she headed for the door. “And I’ll catch up with you later!” She then headed for the second floor and the playroom, where the rest of the Stallion women and babies were gathered.

Chapter 6

Tears misted Dahlia’s eyes as she disconnected the call on her cell phone. She and her friend Phaedra had been talking for almost an hour, the two women catching up with each other’s busy lives. Discovering that Phaedra and her family were excited to invest in her movie had been the icing on the cake; Dahlia’s financial woes were resolved and she could now turn her total focus to filming.

When Phaedra had first voiced an interest in buying into Dahlia’s film, Dahlia had been more than ready to fly to Dallas to plead her case for all that Passionate was worth. But Phaedra had not needed her sales pitch. Phaedra, like Leslie, had been with her when the idea of Passionate had been conceived. Phaedra had brought her coffee and donuts in the middle of the night when she’d first written the screenplay. Phaedra had photographed her slumped over her computer many nights and captured Dahlia’s obsession with the story on film. Phaedra’s confidence in her had come on the heels of Guy’s confidence, and the duo’s support meant more than Dahlia could have begun to hope for.

She swiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands, willing away the tears that threatened to spill past her thick lashes. She refused to be emotional, determined to contain her excitement. She was waiting for Guy Boudreaux to arrive, and there was no way she was going to allow him to find her teary-eyed and emotive. Everything about her demeanor when she met with the man had to be as calm and as collected as she could possibly manage. There was no way that she would permit him to see her out of her usual full and total control. No way.

She glanced down at her watch, noting that they were minutes from seeing each other again. She could feel her heart racing at the prospect. She took a deep breath to stall her nerves. She couldn’t begin to understand why he disturbed her in ways she didn’t want. But he was the most mesmerizing man she had ever met.

She was only slightly startled when Guy suddenly slid his muscular frame into the booth beside her. Lost in thought, she’d not seen him enter the room and his sudden presence threw her for a momentary loop.

“Hey, you!” Dahlia exclaimed, fighting to temper the excitement in her voice as she eyed him up and down. The man was neatly dressed in khaki slacks and a navy polo shirt, with the length of his dreadlocks pulled back in a neat ponytail at the nape of his neck.

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