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Target.
    And his responsibility.
    Like a sucker punch to the gut, the realization hit him harder than it had before when they’d first arrived. He didn’t flinch, didn’t move a muscle on his face, but slid his gaze toward Remi. The lift on one corner of Remi’s mouth told Beck that Remi completely understood. Hence the hefty salary, the long folder, and full-on psychological profile of Miss Warner that Beck had been presented with over the last three days.
    “Miss Warner.” Beck voice was smooth and firm. “I’m afraid we have to decline.”
    The skin on her arms prickled and she stiffened with his words. Her back went ramrod straight and away went the gorgeous breasts. Conflicted. She was conflicted by her physical attraction to Beck and her dislike of being rejected. She licked her lips and pulled her hair behind her ear. Her entire demeanor shifted from sultry sexpot to spurned child. Yeah, with that body, those eyes, and all that fame, Natalie wasn’t rejected often.
    “So you do know who I am.”
    “Doesn’t everyone?”
    Her smoldering gaze went arctic frigid faster than a bullet split bone.
    “No”—she tossed her head and tilted her chin upward—“everyone just thinks they do.”
    She shot him a sharp smile, like he’d just confirmed her every negative belief in humanity. “Gentlemen, have a lovely afternoon. Hope your appointment is worth it.”
    With that she spun on her heels and gave both of them a world-class view as she sauntered back to her table.
     

Chapter Seven
     
    “They’re gone,” Stacia whispered through the bathroom stall door.
    “Thank the lord.” Natalie opened the door and straightened her shirt. Yes, she’d fled the dining room in full-on rejection shame mode, leaving Stacia to pay the tab, take care of the tip, and watch for the two guys to disappear into the dimming late-afternoon sunlight.
    “You probably gave them the thrill of their day.”
    “Yeah, right.” Natalie peered into the bathroom mirror and washed her hands. Such a fucking fool. Really? Of course she’d thought the whole “I’m so sexy” routine would work, but she’d failed miserably. Her plan backfired and now she was alone, buzzed, and rejected. Sucked to be her. She barely recognized the face in the mirror. Those eyes that sold millions of movie tickets looked tired and sad. Not her eyes from years ago, no, these eyes had watched good people turned bad by greed and the need for personal gain.
    “The blond guy was completely down for some action.”
    “Please.” Natalie shook her wet hands above the sink. “He rejected me outright.”
    “Hmm . . .” Stacia tapped her finger to her lips and rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. “Said something about a work meeting, not that he wasn’t interested.”
    Natalie yanked paper towels from the dispenser. “If he was interested, he would have skipped the work meeting.”
    “Says the woman who hasn’t had a day off in months.”
    “Whatevs.” Natalie straightened her shirt.
    “The heat was crackling between you two. I’m sticking with my first assessment—the man was digging your action.”
    “Mmmhm.”
    Stacia lifted her eyebrow. “You two sent the temperature up about ten degrees in all of Beverly Hills.
    “Doesn’t matter now, because he’s gone and I’m going home.”
    “Nat, not yet! Come back to my place. We’ll party there and then head to Hollywood.”
    “I have a read-through tomorrow.”
    “Work, work, work.” Stacia opened the bathroom door and they both slid into the hallway. “My car’s out back.”
    Natalie put on her ginormous sunglasses. “Mine’s in the garage across the street.”
    They hugged and gave each other the obligatory double-cheek kiss.
    “I’ll see you before I leave?”
    “Absolutely.” Natalie pushed open the heavy metal back door, expecting the blinding flashes of shutterbugs.
    No photogs?
    That was amazing and . . . strange. Angelina Jolie had to be walking naked in Beverly Hills because