Read Power Play for Free Online Page B

tousled, soft curls cascading around her face. When Gene the doorman whistled and told her she looked like “hot stuff,” Monica knew she’d nailed it. She just hoped the paparazzi agreed.
    She turned to Eric. “Ever been in a limo before?”
    Eric looked offended. “Uh, yeah .”
    â€œJust checking. Ever seen the Temple of Dendur?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œIt’s pretty amazing. It’s an Egyptian temple that has its own wing at the Met. One of the walls is sheer glass, and there’s this reflecting pool . . . it’s really impressive.”
    â€œYou go to museums a lot?”
    â€œNot really,” Monica confessed, feeling a little embarrassed. Her mentor, Monty, always said you couldn’t be a real artist unless you had appreciation for other branches of the arts. Monica always felt she didn’t read enough, didn’t go to enough concerts or dance recitals or art museums. Maybe that’s why she wasn’t a real actress yet. Maybe she wasn’t well-rounded enough.
    Since Eric had had no qualms blatantly giving her the once-over, she did the same to him and was impressed by what she saw. Obnoxious as he might be, the man looked positively Bond-like in a tux. “You look nice.”
    Eric grinned. “I agree.”
    Jerk. How had she let Theresa talk her into this? Two seconds in his presence, and already Monica was irritated. Act, she reminded herself. Use your skills.
    â€œYou a James Dempsey fan?”
    â€œOh, yeah,” said Eric. “It’s a bummer that he died.”
    Monica blinked. “What?”
    â€œHe’s dead, right? I thought this dinner is to honor his memory.”
    â€œHe’s not dead! This dinner is to honor his contribution to the world of entertainment.”
    â€œOh. Well, that’s good.” Eric paused. “Is Chim Chim going to be there?” he asked hopefully.
    â€œChim Chim?”
    â€œYou know, the monkey from Chim Chim and Jones .”
    â€œI know who Chim Chim is. I don’t know.”
    â€œI hope so. Maybe I can get an autograph. My brother and I used to love that show. Chim Chim was amazing.”
    â€œHe’s a monkey , Eric. I doubt he does autographs.”
    â€œYou’re wrong. I’m sure he’s been taught to hold a pen and scribble. Hell, he fired a pistol on the show.”
    Monica wished she had a pistol. So she could point it at her own temple and pull the trigger.
    â€œI remember when James was on W and F ,” Eric continued. “He was great.”
    â€œYou actually watch W and F ?” Monica was surprised.
    â€œThe whole team does. It passes the time when we’re on the road, stuck in a hotel during the day while waiting to play at night. We watch it when we’re working out, too.”
    â€œOh.” Monica was surprised as well as pleased. It was kind of cool that big, macho jocks watched soaps.
    Eric slid closer to her. “About this date . . .”
    â€œActually, it’s not really a date. You’re my escort. I’m sure Theresa explained the whole thing to you.”
    â€œTheresa used the word date .” He inched closer. “Look, you don’t have to apologize for the way you treated me on the set. I knew you’d come round,” he murmured. He was doing that hooded, bedroom eye thing again. She wondered if he’d learned it from watching Royce’s bad acting on W and F .
    He was almost next to her now. Monica tensed, discreetly opening the beaded clutch she’d brought with her; inside was a small can of mace. She’d use it if she had to, so help her God she would.
    â€œYou’re my escort,” Monica repeated.
    â€œCall it whatever you want,” Eric replied with a dismissive chuckle. “The fact remains, you asked Theresa to contact me, and here I am.”
    â€œHere you are,” Monica repeated with false gaiety. She made a mental note to fire Theresa in the