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
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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
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.
Pulsuz fraqment bitdi.