Read Playing with Passion Theta Series Book 1 for Free Online

the
chair, instantly regretting her outburst. Now he'd go to The
Director and that would be the end. But how could Mack Hudson tell
how strong her axis energy was with only a touch?
    "This is a recent development?" She
nodded. “When did it change?”
    No point in lying now. "When I joined
the Atlanta troupe."
    "And what was different
there?"
    "Gene Stone and I..." Ingrid blinked,
biting her lip to stop the tears. Over the past month, she’d only
allowed herself to remember the good times: flying above his head
during a show, sharing a meal or a dance at a club. She and Gene
hadn’t been in love; they’d been taught in the institutes it wasn’t
a possibility for a theta to fall in love, but they’d been best
friends—family.
    "Tell me..." Mack angled his body
toward hers, showing only his interest.
    "Gene and I cared. We were very close
friends."
    Mack's expression was thoughtful; his
warm hazel eyes glittering with golden streaks, his mouth twisted
to the side as he puzzled out what she'd told him. He had such a
nice face: intelligent eyes, a strong jaw, a tiny bump on his nose.
His hair, a darker brown than hers, was a bit longer than the
current style. She decided she liked it that length. She'd like it
even more if she could twist it around her fingers.
    Uh…wait a minute. This was her PM. PMs
were off limits for actors. Plus they were power-hungry assholes.
Except…this Mack didn’t seem to fit that mold. She gave her libido
a mental slap. He’d show his true colors soon enough.
    Mack sat up straighter, seeming to
come to a decision. "The pizza might have cooled, but we shouldn't
waste pizza this good." He opened his mouth and took an enormous
bite of his slice, chewing and swallowing, then smiling
blissfully.
    A bit of the tension between them
drained away. He was letting it go for now, although she was sure
he'd bring it up again later. The pizza smelled like heaven. She
slid her chair back in place, drawing the plate closer and taking a
bite. "What is this cheese?"
    "Fresh mozzarella." He'd given the
word an Italian flare.
    "It doesn't taste like mozzarella." He
smiled when she imitated his pronunciation.
    "That's because it doesn't come out of
a package at the market. Salumerias sell it, those are Italian
delicatessens, but Tony makes it himself.
    She smiled, finally starting to feel
normal again, whatever that was. "And the sausage. Yum." She was
shocked that she'd already finished the first slice and was
reaching for another. She’d trained herself to eat slowly and
sparingly.
    "Homemade sweet Italian sausage. I
told you, Anthony's Pizzeria is the best."
    "Mmm."
    They ate for a minute without talking,
Ingrid concentrating only on the food, trying not to think about
the energy exchange. "I want to explain my reasons for canceling
the hotel," Mack said.
    She waved her hand in his direction.
"Pfft. PM’s never explain anything."
    "This one does." Gene Hudson was
standing in the doorway, hanging his jacket on the coat rack in the
corner. "Sometimes he goes on and on and on. We can't shut him up,"
he teased. His sneakers and socks were deposited on a mat by the
door. "Hi, Ingrid. Give me a sec to clean up, then I'll join
you."
    Ingrid had a chance to check him out
as he crossed the room to sit beside her. She'd seen tons of
pictures. He was the most sought after Gene, more popular to fans
than she was, mainly because his fan base was mostly made up doting
females. They'd stand in line for days to get a glimpse of this
blonde Adonis.
    And she could understand why. Gene
Hudson was tall, six feet or more, and built like most male
ingénues, long and lean and in perfect physical condition. His hair
was more neatly trimmed than Mack's, his clothes more fashionably
styled. His grace and strength were obvious with every movement,
attributes that placed him at the top of his field.
    Dancing was a workout, especially
since so much of his job involved lifts and the precise partnering
that added to an ingénue’s