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whatever I want to wear, babe, and I’ll wear it for my pleasure, not yours.” She was only slightly gratified to note a flush seep over his perfect cheekbones. She pressed on, her voice growing stronger with her increasing irritation. “But I do have one question for you. What if the script called for you to murder me? Would you then need to relate to me on some violent level in order to play the part properly?”

    Eric Terrell stared at her for a full minute, during which Ivy was uncomfortably aware of the complete silence that surrounded them. Then he laughed softly. “Okay,” he relented, “so that’s how it’s going to be.” His eyes continued to hold hers, and something in them made her shiver. “I guess I was wrong about you.”

    “What do you mean?”

    He smiled, and his gaze dropped leisurely over her body. “I just figured you’d want to portray your character as realistically as possible.” He leaned toward her and said conspiratorially, “Even maintain certain relationships off camera in order for them to strike a realistic chord on camera. Now I know you know what I’m talking about.”

    There was no mistaking the sensual intent in his eyes. Ivy’s heart began to pound and she was certain he would hear it thumping in her chest. Instead of feeling flattered by his obvious interest, she felt vaguely panicky and a little cheapened, as if he thought she was an easy lay because of her prior relationships. She’d always known some people would judge her based on her past, but she hadn’t thought anyone would be so blatant about it, so insulting. She tried to tell herself that it didn’t matter; Eric Terrell was a guy who made a practice of sleeping with his costars, so he probably judged everyone else by his own low standards. As she struggled to formulate a response, a smooth voice cut in from behind her.

    “Hey, pal, lighten up. The rest of us have worked with you long enough to know you’re just kidding, but I think you’re making our leading lady a little uncomfortable.” Garrett’s voice was easy, but his eyes were hard.

    Ivy stopped breathing as the two men stared at each other for a long minute. Garrett’s stance was relaxed, and to anyone who watched, the three of them might appear to be having a friendly conversation, but Ivy sensed the tension that coiled inside him.

    Finally, Eric snickered. “Yeah, right.” He swung his gaze back to Ivy. “No offense. I was just kidding.” He leaned toward her, and for a moment Ivy thought he was going to say something in her ear. Instead, he sniffed delicately several times.

    Ivy recoiled. He was smelling her!

    “Just do me a favor and don’t wear any scented cosmetics or perfumes, okay?” He stepped back and smiled humorlessly at her, making no effort to keep his voice down. “The smell of that shit makes my stomach turn. Don’t make it too difficult for me to act like I actually want to do you.”

    Without another word, he walked away. Almost immediately, the stifled conversation resumed around them. Ivy fought for composure, determined not let the others see her mortification. That he’d actually implied she wasn’t attractive enough to turn him on, either on-screen or off, was humiliating enough, but to have done it in front of the other cast members was just unbelievable. She didn’t dare look at Garrett. Suppressing a groan, she drained her margarita glass in one lengthy swallow, shuddering at the strong alcohol.

    “He’s right about one thing.” Garrett’s voice was pitched low, for her ears alone.

    Ivy lowered her glass and reluctantly faced him. His light-brown eyes were the same shade as the aged tequila warming her belly and causing a pleasant glow to spread outward from her center. For just a second she had a crazy belief that if she could just sink into the endless depths of those eyes, she would find the peace and inner strength she so desperately needed right then.

    She forced herself to smile at him. No