You Belong To Me (8 page)

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Authors: Patricia Sargeant

BOOK: You Belong To Me
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Nicole stumbled back, breaking free of Malcolm's loose, single-armed embrace. She locked her shaking knees and nervously licked her lips. A mistake, judging by the steam emanating from Malcolm's hot-chocolate eyes.
“What are you doing?” Her voice shook.
Malcolm's gaze darkened with unquenched desire. “Kissing you.” His voice stroked her, connecting with every reawakened erogenous zone.
Nicole swallowed hard. “Why?”
Malcolm cocked an eyebrow. “Because I wanted to. As I said, Nicky, I want another chance with you.”
“You really are big on second chances, aren't you? First, Los Angeles and now you. If you can't think of me as just your business partner, then perhaps we should reconsider our contract.”
“It was just a kiss, Nicky. And I stopped as soon as you moved away.”
Nicole didn't think what they'd shared could be described as “just a kiss.” It was a phenomenon, one she instinctively knew she could never share with anyone else.
“I want you to leave.” She touched her fingertips to her still-trembling lips. “Now.”
“All right. I'm going.”
Malcolm turned and left the bedroom. Nicole followed close behind him.
“I'm sorry I upset you,” he continued, shrugging into his coat. He turned to face her. “But, Nicky, the passion wasn't all on my side.”
Nicole funneled her reawakening desire into anger. She marched past Malcolm to the front door, yanked it open, and waited for him to walk through. Her arm trembled with the effort not to slam the door behind him. She dropped onto the arm of the love seat and pulled at her hair.
 
Tyrone would kill him if he'd done anything to hurt this project, Malcolm thought as he drove away from Nicole's apartment. First, his partner would give one of his sermons on the evils of impetuosity and the gravity of business responsibilities. A lecture that would make him want to take his own life. Then Tyrone would quite simply choke him with his bare hands.
Malcolm didn't know what had come over him. His need for Nicole had suddenly overwhelmed him. When she'd slipped her tongue into his mouth and pressed her lithe body against him ...
The ringing of his cell phone shattered the image and cooled his heated skin.
“Malcolm Bryant,” he announced.
“Leave my family alone,” the caller demanded.
“You have the wrong—” The line disconnected. “Number.” Malcolm shrugged and ended the call.
The memory of the few nuisance calls, all hang ups, he'd received the past week crossed his mind. His cell phone was listed only on his business card. In the three years he'd owned this phone, he'd never experienced such a rash of misdirected calls. He wondered what had changed to cause this problem.
 
The next morning, a stranger sat in his car watching her as Nicole neared the end of her jog. His silver BMW stood at the curb in front of her apartment building, which served as her finish line. She tensed. Despite the chill in the early morning air, she prepared to do another lap around the block rather than let him see where she lived. Growing up in New York City had taught her to be ever ready for an attack. Her heart jumped as the man uncoiled from his car a few feet in front of her.
“Nicole Collins.” His voice was California casual.
Nicole saw before her a self-assured black male displaying the trappings of his success. A tall, broad form with cover-model good looks. His smile revealed perfectly white teeth.
“You're even more attractive than your publicity photo.” He pulled out his wallet and stepped toward her, extending his business card. Ever on the alert, Nicole shifted closer to the curb—casually, she hoped. “I'm Omar Carter of Carter Enterprises.”
Nicole examined his card, relaxing slightly. “Your company bid on the movie rights to
InterDimensions.
”
“And were very disappointed not to get them.”
Nicole tried to return his business card, but Omar waved it away.
“How did you know where to find me?”
“Directory cross-reference online.” Omar flashed another charming smile.
Nicole frowned. “Why did you go to this trouble?”
“To ask for just a moment of your time. Perhaps we could talk in your apartment.”
Nicole regarded him skeptically. With her fingertips, she scraped her wet bangs back from her forehead. He couldn't actually think she would allow a strange man into her apartment?
“What do we have to discuss?” she asked.
“A new bid for your
InterDimensions
movie rights.”
Nicole tilted her head to the side as she considered Omar's bold statement. She knew Denise had mailed letters to the production companies letting them know she had sold her movie rights and thanking them for their interest. In light of that, she wondered what game Omar Carter was playing.
“I've already sold those rights, Mr. Carter. Have a good day.”
Nicole stepped around him, and Omar fell into step with her.
“I know. To Celestial Productions. I think you've made a mistake.”
She paused to reevaluate Mr. Omar Carter. He wasn't just self-assured. He was cocky. Nicole's lips twitched with amusement. “What makes you think I've made a mistake?”
“Celestial Productions lacks the sophistication to do your story justice.”
Nicole chuckled. “
InterDimensions
is a good story, but it's not meant to be sophisticated.” She eyed his Rodeo Drive suit, visible under his Burberry of London wool overcoat. “At least not by your definition.”
“What I mean is, Carter Enterprises can do a much better job for you. Better production quality, better marketing, better distribution.”
“Celestial Productions owns the movie rights. I'm sorry, Mr. Carter, but I have too much to accomplish today to debate a moot point.” Nicole turned to climb the stairs to the building's entrance.
“Please, call me Omar. According to the contract you have with Celestial Productions, if they choose to sell the movie rights, you have the option to buy it back first.”
Nicole turned back toward him. “How did you know that?”
“Because it was one of the conditions of your sale. I assumed it would also be in your contract.”
“What's your point?” Nicole braced her hands on her hips. She was becoming impatient to escape the persistent producer. Her body temperature was cooling, and her sweat-drenched clothes were giving her a chill.
“If we can convince Celestial Productions to sell the movie rights back to you, I can make you a very attractive offer for them,” Omar promised her. “Even more attractive than my original offer.”
“It's not about the money. It's about the creative control,” Nicole insisted. “As I recall, you wouldn't agree to share that control with me, which is the reason I chose not to sell the rights to you.”
“I don't believe the money isn't important to you,” Omar scoffed. “You can't turn your back on that kind of money. Nobody can.”
“Believe whatever you want to, Omar. I don't have the time to discuss this with you any further. Have a good day.” She continued up the stairs.
“You drive a hard bargain, Ms. Collins,” he called after her.
She did not look back.
 
Nicole stopped in front of the receptionist's desk. “I have a ten o'clock appointment with Malcolm Bryant.”
A petite Mexican woman smiled with recognition in her eyes. Nicole felt at an uncomfortable disadvantage as she searched her memory for images of the voluptuous woman. Nothing came to mind.
The woman stood and circled the glass-topped counter, extending her hand. “Hello, Ms. Collins. I recognize you from your pictures on your books. I'm Rita Collozo.”
Nicole shook the other woman's small hand, warming to her twinkling brown eyes and lyrical voice.
Rita continued. “I enjoy your books very much. Mr. Bryant and Mr. Austin are expecting you. We're all very much looking forward to working with you.”
Nicole smiled, her nervousness easing. “Thank you.”
“Please, follow me.”
Celestial Productions made a good first impression. As she crossed the waiting area, Nicole enjoyed the soothing combination of emerald-green carpeting and eggshell-white walls. The baseboards were of polished ebony wood. The coffee table and matching end tables were made of glass and black metal. The sofa and armchairs were ivory twill.
The lobby exhibited framed posters of the company's films. She hadn't seen any of them at a theater. She rarely made it to the movies anymore. But, after signing the contract, she'd rented several of the videos and could well understand the praise the productions had received. The films were high quality, technically as well as artistically. Nicole was impressed.
She followed Rita, who briskly crossed the length of the hall. The administrative assistant stopped outside a partially opened door and knocked before pushing it wide.
“Ms. Collins is here, Mal.”
Nicole watched as Malcolm rose from the chair behind his oak desk. Khaki pants hugged his lean hips. A royal-blue sweater showcased his well-muscled shoulders.
“Thanks, Rita.” He walked toward them. “Could you ask Ty to join us?”
“Yes.” Rita turned toward Nicole. “It's a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine.” Nicole shook her hand again. Rita spun, setting her dark curls in motion as she charged back down the hall.
“May I take your coat?” Malcolm reached to assist her out of her wool jacket.
“Thank you.”
Nicole relinquished her coat, smoothing her oversized ruby sweater, which hung to midthigh over her wide-legged, polyester-blend black pants. She saw the flash of disappointment in Malcolm's eyes as he viewed her latest figure-concealing ensemble.
“Have a seat.” Malcolm gestured toward the two soft armchairs before his desk. “Did you sleep well?”
Nicole's gaze lifted as she sank into one of the seats. She wondered whether his question was an attempt to remind her of their kiss. If it was, her tripping pulse proved he'd succeeded.
“Very,” she lied, crossing her legs.
“I envy you. I hardly slept at all.” Malcolm gave her a final lingering look before returning to the black leather executive chair behind his desk.
Nicole narrowed her eyes. “Malcolm, what game are you playing?”
Footsteps approaching Malcolm's office interrupted them. Nicole turned toward the door.
“Ms. Collins. It's an honor to meet you.”
Nicole hadn't taken a good look at Tyrone Austin when they'd first met. Studying him now, the writer in her decided he looked more like a studious college professor than a movie producer. His round face and close-cropped hair gave him an eternally youthful appearance. Dark brown eyes sparkled with pleasure behind wire-rimmed glasses. His build, taller and broader than Malcolm's, was clothed in a conservative suit that matched his eyes. Nicole smiled at the image of Marvin the Martian, the Warner Brothers space alien, marching across his tie.
“The pleasure's mine. But, please, call me Nicky.” She stood and extended her hand to clasp his.
“And I'm Ty.” He gave her hand a squeeze.
“Thank you, Ty. I apologize for the horrible first impression I gave you when we were first introduced.”
“That was all Mal's fault,” Tyrone said with careless good humor.
Nicole laughed. “I've enjoyed your movies.”
Her smile widened at Tyrone's blush. He waited for Nicole to resume her seat before taking the chair beside her.
“They're my movies, too,” Malcolm interrupted. Nicole and Tyrone ignored him.
“My fiancée, Joyce, and I have read every book in your
InterDimensions
series. We can't wait for the next one. Tell me, how many more books are you planning for the series?”
Nicole chuckled as Tyrone's words tripped over each other. “As many as I can sell.”
“If the love fest is over, can we start the meeting now?” Malcolm grumbled.
Nicole turned toward Malcolm in surprise. She didn't understand his irritation. Was he upset she and Tyrone were getting along? Frankly, Tyrone's warm welcome was a salve on her frazzled nerves. Contrary to what she'd told Malcolm, she hadn't slept well. Not well at all. Their kiss had recalled too many memories and stirred too many dreams.
“You're right,” Tyrone agreed, unaware of or unconcerned with Malcolm's annoyance. “We've scheduled a cocktail reception Friday night to welcome you to L.A. and to generate more interest in the project. The more interest we have in the movie, the more free publicity we'll get.”

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