Stormy Vows - Iris Johansen [3]
He grinned and shrugged. “If you get through this intact, you still have to take a screen test. But Mr. Donovan prefers that the first audition take place here. He thinks the stage highlights the actor, and lets us better appraise the body movements.”
“Mr. Donovan appears to be a man of original ideas,” Brenna said lightly.
“He is indeed, Miss Sloan,” Josh Hernandez said ruefully. “He is indeed.” He looked down at the clipboard and detached a form. “If you will fill this out, we'll get on with the actual audition.”
The audition form was quite short, and in a few minutes she had completed it and returned it to Hernandez.
He gestured to the stage casually. “When you're ready,” he said easily.
Brenna mounted the four steps at the side of the stage, and moved to center stage. Drawing a deep breath to still the quivering butterflies, she asked quietly. “Where do you want me to begin?”
“Start with Angie's monologue on page three, scene two,” Hernandez said. “Billie will read Joe.”
Brenna began to read, and, as usual, once she became involved with the character, she forgot everything else. All nervous apprehension vanished in her absorption with Angie Linden. She actually began to enjoy herself, and was almost disappointed when Hernandez called a halt to the reading. She knew with a confident thrill that it had been a good audition. She had done well.
Hernandez came up the stairs two at a time, a broad grin on his dark face. “A really great job, Miss Sloan!”
She looked up at him hopefully, her face glowing. “You like it?” she asked breathlessly. Hernandez stared down into her face bemusedly. “Damn, if you photograph well, you'll be a natural.” Then he added quickly, “The final decision isn't mine, of course. But if I have anything to say about it, you have the role.”
“Hold it, Josh!”
They both looked with startled eyes toward the door.
The red-haired man leaning indolently against the doorjamb was dressed casually in faded jeans and a cream-colored shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbow. Despite the casualness of his dress, there was no mistaking his identity. Though Michael Donovan was militantly vigilant of his privacy, he was excellent copy, and newspaper photos of him appeared on occasion. Once seen, he couldn't be forgotten.
Brenna's breath caught in her throat at the explosive impact of the man. He was not at all handsome, she thought dazedly, and then was amazed that she had noticed because Michael Donovan made conventional observations unimportant. His blunt, rough-hewn features carried a power all their own, and the piercing blue of his eyes cut through what wasn't essential with the force of a lightning bolt. The air around him seemed to crackle with the strength and vitality of his personality. The mahogany hair and eyebrows, and the tall muscular body were dwarfed by the sheer overpowering virility that emanated from the man.
He moved with lithe swiftness past a dazzled Billie Perkins, to mount the steps and cross to stand before Brenna and Hernandez.
At close range, he was even more intimidating, and Brenna stepped back instinctively, a fact that Donovan noted with narrowed eyes. His mouth twisted cynically as he turned to Hernandez. “I believe you're slipping, Josh,” he said smoothly. “It's not like you to make even a tentative commitment without consulting me. Isn't your usual policy, Don't call us, we'll call you?” His eyes traveled intimately from the top of Brenna's glossy head to the delicate bones of her ankles. “It would take something pretty world-shaking to budge you from your standard procedure.”
Hernandez was looking at Donovan with dark, puzzled eyes. “There was no commitment, Mr. Donovan,” he said quietly. “I do plead guilty to enthusiasm. She gave a damn good reading.”
Donovan nodded casually. “She was good, I caught the last half.”
Brenna's eyes brightened as they flew to Donovan's face. His gaze had never left her expressive face, and he caught the look of eager expectancy radiating from her. He said briskly,