Stormy Vows - Iris Johansen [32]
Brenna could feel the humiliating color rise in her face at this public denunciation. She raised her chin defiantly. “I didn't do it on purpose,” she defended herself. “It just happened.”
“A stroke of fate, perhaps,” Jake said with intimidating softness. “Mother nature waves her magic wand, and you lose ten pounds.”
“I may have missed a few meals,” Brenna stammered uncomfortably.
“She skipped a few meals,” he said sarcastically. “May we inquire how many?”
“I don't remember,” Brenna said defensively, becoming angry in her turn. Surely this castigation wasn't necessary. “I told you I didn't do it deliberately.”
“Leave her alone, Jake,” Michael Donovan said lazily.
They both turned in surprise, squinting against the glare of the lights to see Donovan's familiar figure leaning indolently against a pillar in the far corner of the sound stage. Donovan's red hair burned like a dark flame in the dimness of the shadows as he straightened, and strolled causally forward. He was dressed informally, as usual, in a cinnamon brown shirt and fitted khaki slacks that explicitly molded the strong lines of his thighs.
“Well, well,” Dominic drawled sardonically, “the wanderer returns. When did you get home?”
“Last night,” Donovan said laconically.
She had forgotten how piercing those blue eyes were, Brenna thought with a shiver, as his mocking gaze examined her face with a familiar intimacy.
“Hello, Brenna.” he said softly.
“Good morning, Mr. Donovan,” she said with a composure she didn't really feel. It was only the surprise of seeing him so unexpectedly that caused that tingling warmth in her veins, she told herself stubbornly.
Donovan raised an eyebrow quizzically at her formality, and turned to Dominic. “You're in a foul mood, Jake,” he drawled. “I can't see that Brenna's done anything to deserve that serpent's tongue of yours. You've obviously been working the girl to a shadow. You're going to have more problems than a few pounds weight loss if you don't let up. She looks almost breakable.”
“I'm quite well, Mr. Donovan,” Brenna said coolly.
To her annoyance both men blatantly ignored the interruption. “My God, Michael!” Dominic said harshly. “I have a picture to finish. What do you want me to do, set up banker's hours for the girl? You're the one who gave me the deadline for this film. Now it's my job to try and meet it.”
“You're quite right, I did set the deadline,” Donovan said coolly. “And I'm the one who can change it. Brenna needs a rest. Schedule her out of the shooting today.”
Brenna's eyes widened with shock, and she opened her mouth to protest, but Dominic was before her.
“Schedule her out of…” he repeated dumbfounded, then continued explosively, “And what do you suggest we do while Miss Sloan ‘rests'?”
Donovan shrugged. “Shoot around her, or give everyone a day's rest. You decide, Jake,” he said carelessly. “But make up your mind that whatever you do today, it's not going to involve Brenna.”
With a firm hand on her elbow he half led, half pushed Brenna ahead of him off the set, past the gaping crew, toward the door that led to the parking lot.
“What are you doing?” she hissed furiously. “There's absolutely nothing wrong with me, and I have no intention of going anywhere with you!”
“Be quiet, sweetheart,” Donovan said serenely. “You're going to do exactly what you're told, for once.”
“For once?” Brenna sputtered indignantly. “You've done nothing but order me around since the moment we met, Michael Donovan, and I have yet to get my own way.”
Donovan's blue eyes gleamed mischievously. “But then, neither have I, love,” he drawled meaningfully.
Brenna blushed fiercely, and tried futilely to wrest her arm from Donovan's iron grip, as they reached the door. “You can't come in here and just whisk me away, without so much as a by your leave to anyone,” she protested. “And just look at me. I've got to return this gown to wardrobe!”
He pushed her through the door, and strode quickly