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  "He will tonight."

  Nope. No alpha dictator in this man at all. She wasn't about to examine too closely why that trait seemed sexy instead of annoying either.

  She simply said mildly, "He is an adult, you know."

  "Even adults need the support of their family once in a while."

  "Do your sister and brother know that about you?"

  Sadness? Weariness? Something flickered in Rock's gaze. "I'm the exception to that rule."

  Or he'd been forced to be for so long, he didn't know he needed other people.

  Without thinking about why she felt the need to do it, she walked over to him and reached up to kiss the underside of his jaw. "You're exceptional, that's for sure."

  His smile took her breath away. "Thank you."

  His kiss was on her lips and held a lot more passion than hers had. She was lost in the feel of his lips when the sound of a door opening and voices barely registered.

  With a final press of his lips to hers, Rock stepped back. "They're here."

  She was still translating those words in her desire fogged mind when Carey came into the living room, followed closely by Art and Ms. Morganstein.

  "I'm glad Carey was able to talk sense into you about the contract." Art put his hand out Rock.

  Rock shook the other man's hand, but his expression wasn't warm. "Funny, I was under the impression you sent Deborah to do that."

  Art shrugged. "It never hurts to have more than one perspective."

  That sounded so much better than the reality, which Deborah was now pretty sure had been an expectation she would exploit the sexual chemistry between her and Rock to convince him.

  Which she had done.

  An unpleasant weight settled in her stomach.

  "Knock it off, Rock." Carey shook his head. "You have your own reasons for letting us use Jepsom Acres for the film, but the day you let a woman lead you by the nose - or anything else - I'll give up acting."

  Since she was certain that was the very last thing Carey would ever do, Deborah appreciated the sentiment.

  She wasn't so sure, but she would cling to the belief Rock's own reasons had more to do with his love for his brother than the amazing sex she and Rock had had that afternoon.

  "We're all hoping that doesn't happen any time soon, Carey." Ms. Morganstein's tone wasn't effusive, but was all the more believable for its dry sincerity.

  And that was one of the reasons Deborah had wanted to work on this project. Art might have his cynical side and Ms. Morganstein might be hard as nails, but they appreciated artistic talent.

  Carey's smile was nearly as gorgeous as his brothers, but it didn't affect her the same way. Not even a little. "Thank you, Ms. Morganstein."

  Rock wasn't smiling, but he wasn't glaring either as he surveyed her bosses. "Carey, get our guests a drink."

  The younger man immediately offered the contents of the drinks cabinet with the confidence of familiarity.

  Art didn't surprise her when he asked for soda water and a lime. The director didn't drink when he was talking business. Ms. Morganstein, however, wanted a Manhattan and Carey showed his mixology skills making it with practiced ease.

  Rock's brow rose, but he didn't comment on his brother's adeptness as a bartender. "I assume you brought the revised contract with your witnessed signatures."

  Art settled into the same chair he'd used before. "I wasn't happy with some of the restrictions you placed on hours for filming and locations."

  Carey poured himself two fingers of whiskey and swallowed half in one large gulp.

  Rock frowned at his brother basically doing a shot for courage and then at Art. "I told you the terms weren't negotiable."

  "Everything is negotiable."

  "You don't know my brother," Carey muttered before tipping back the rest of the amber liquid in his glass.

  Ms. Morganstein's lips pursed, her eyes casting censure at the director. "We talked about this, Art."

  "And I told you I thought Mr. Jepsom was a reasonable man, Elaine."

  Taking Deborah's arm and tugging her toward the sofa, Rock ignored the by-play. "Did you know Cailkirn was settled primarily by members of three Scottish clans?"

  "I read something like that. There was an Englishman and Russian fur traders too, weren't there?"

  Rock's mouth twisted sardonically. "That's right. The town has a website. Sloan said we needed to move into the twenty-first century."

  "Sloan?" she asked.

  "Mayor Sloan Jackson. Wasn't his picture all over the website?" Rock asked with mockery.

  She remembered the letter from the mayor now. "Not really. Just with his letter."

  "He does like his publicity photo."

  "It's a good one." She might have infused her voice with just a tad extra clear feminine approval.

  But if the man was as good looking as his photo made him out to be, he could give Rock a run for his money in the gorgeous alpha male race.

  "You think so?" Rock asked with narrowed eyes.

  "Oh, yes. He's pretty young for a mayor, isn't he?" She gave Rock her best guileless look.

  "Especially in this town," Carey inserted.

  Rock shook his head at his brother. "Sit down, kid, before you topple."

  "I'm fine," Carey insisted, though his cheeks were flushed from his double shot.

  He sat down however, and Deborah gave a mental sigh of relief.

  "He was only thirty when he got elected. Sloan's the one that got us on the cruise route." Carey nodded sagely.

  Deborah refrained from rolling her eyes. All they needed right now was a tipsy dinner companion when things were already tense between Rock and the others.

  "He had the right business and political connections to make it happen." Rock didn't seem bothered by his brother's tipsy demeanor.

  But then he wasn't giving off much of any emotion at all.

  "Yeah. Lucky him. You're one of his friends. Right, big brother?"

  "Yes." Rock gave Deborah a sideways look. "I could introduce you if you want."

  "No, thank you." She would have laughed if she was sure he was teasing like she'd been.

  After their hours together in bed, she had no interest in meeting another man. No matter how good looking and politically savvy.

  "Getting back to the contract..." Art inserted.

  Rock turned his sherry gaze onto her director, no give in his granite set features. "You can leave the signed contract on the coffee table before you leave tonight or start looking for a different location tomorrow."

  Art opened his mouth to speak, but Ms. Morganstein forestalled him. "Would you please try to remember, Art, that Mr. Jepsom has not signed the contract himself?"

  In other words, Rock could still withdraw his contractual offer if Art's insistence on trying to negotiate what had been presented as nonnegotiable annoyed him enough.

  "Come now, Mr. Jepsom. You have to realize the difficulties you are putting in our way with some of your stipulations. You are not a neophyte about this business."

  Ms. Morganstein let out a hiss of annoyance.

  Carey just shook his head and muttered something too low to hear.

  "Call me Rock. Using Mr. isn't going to convince me of a respectful attitude when you use it just before trying once again to adjust terms I have been clear are already set."

  "I'm not trying to offend you, Rock, but I've got a movie to make."

  "And you can make it somewhere else if you don't like my provisions for making it here on Jepsom Acres."

  Art seemed to finally get a clue that Rock meant what he said because the director opened and closed his mouth without speaking again. His expression turned thoughtful, but not calculating.

  Finally.

  Art looked at Deborah. "What do you think about the contract?"

  "I haven't seen it."

  Art's brows beetled, his eyes narrowing on her. "What were you doing here all afternoon then?"

  "Getting to know me better," Rock said witho
ut missing a beat.

  While she sat and called on every drop of her talent as an actor to hide her gasping shock at the colossal disingenuousness or lack of perception in Art's question.

  "I'm sure she took the time to tell you about the movie then," Ms. Morganstein said drily.

  "She did."

  "What did you think?" Carey asked, trepidation seeping through his tipsy demeanor.

  "That the subject matter and intent behind the film were worth investing in."

  "Oh." Carey's head dropped. "I thought..."

  "We can talk about what you thought later. We'll have plenty of time. You and Deborah will be staying here for the duration of the filming."

  Carey's head shot up at that. "We will? I mean, that's great. I thought I'd want to stay with the rest of the cast and crew at the lodge, but I miss home."

  "I'm glad to hear that."

  Carey gave his brother a smile that nearly broke Deborah's heart. He so obviously wanted his brother's approval.

  While Rock, in no way, could be said to approve of their chosen profession, the man's love for his brother was undeniable. A pang of longing for family, for that kind of unconditional love, hit Deborah so hard it became a breath-stealing pain.

  She wanted to call her younger sister, but Deborah knew that, ultimately, she would feel just as empty afterward, if not more so. Alicia had chosen her primary allegiance a long time ago and it wasn't to the sister who had chosen to buck family tradition and expectations.

  Rock's hand landed on her shoulder.

  Maybe that should embarrass her in front of her bosses because it implied at least some level of intimacy had been achieved between them. But she didn't care.

  Deborah needed the human connection right then.

  Their gazes clashed, his seeing too much.

  "It turns out it's a good thing they are both staying here," Art said, interrupting the silent communication between Rock and Deborah. "There was some kind of mix-up with the rooms booked for our cast and crew. Right now, some of the rooms have four people staying in them."

  "Sounds crowded," Rock offered laconically.

  The look he gave Deborah said that once again, he wasn't impressed with the director's forethought and planning.

  "I don't know what happened." Ms. Morganstein frowned. "The directorial first assistant assured me that the proper number of rooms was reserved, but the Lodge did not agree."

  Rock looked ready to say something Deborah was pretty sure would be derogatory or incendiary.

  "Do you think Lydia's ready to serve dinner?" she asked with classic, and not very subtle, misdirection.

  "Who's Lydia?" Carey demanded.

  "Mrs. Painter." Rock grimaced. "She has decided she and Deborah are friends."

  "What does that make us?" Carey asked in unconscious duplication of his brother's same question that morning.

  "Family," Rock said, giving Lydia's answer.

  Carey's brow furrowed, but he didn't say anything else.

  "As to your question," Rock said to Deborah. "She left it warming before going home."

  "She doesn't live here?" Deborah asked in surprise.

  "She used to. When the twins were younger, but she finally married her longtime beau when they started high school."

  Carey made a disgusted sound.

  Rock rolled his eyes. "My brother never forgave Levi Painter for taking her away."

  Carey shrugged, embarrassed, but he didn't deny Rock's words.

  "Art, put the signed contract on the coffee table and then might I suggest we all celebrate with dinner?" Ms. Morganstein worded it as a question, but she was already standing in anticipation of everyone's cooperation.

  "I'd prefer to see Rock sign the contract before we go into dinner."

  "My assistant acts as my notary, but he went home hours ago."

  Deborah hadn't realized anyone else was in the house. Who else did he have working for him?

  Art handed a set of documents toward Rock. "Deborah and Carey can witness it."

  Rock didn't reply, but he took the contracts and checked both copies had the required signatures before adding his own.

  Deborah and Carey both signed as witnesses and then Rock passed one copy back to Art and laid the other on the coffee table.

  Carey jumped up like that had been a signal. "Now, we can eat."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Dinner was surprisingly pleasant. Deborah expected tension, but it turned into the celebration Ms. Morganstein had suggested they make it.

  They talked about the movie and the amazing roles both she and Carey had in it, with no overt hostility on Rock's part.

  "This movie is going to make your brother's career," Art said as he sipped complacently at his second glass of dinner wine.

  "Are you worried about being typecast?" Rock asked Carey.

  "No. I'm making a statement. It's who I am."

  Rock's smile was the first genuine since the others had arrived. "Then it's a good statement to make."

  "I don't want to live a lie, trying to build a career pretending to be something I'm not."

  "I'm proud of you."

  When Rock didn't add a caveat, making sure his brother knew that he wasn't proud of the decision Rock hadn't agreed with - going into acting - Deborah wanted to hug him.

  Carey's eyes grew suspiciously moist, but he blinked several times and smiled. "Well, yeah, what's not to be proud of?"

  Rock didn't smile. Serious as a banker under audit, he said, "Nothing."

  "Let's not go overboard." Something in Carey's tone said he wasn't joking either, though he was trying to.

  "Not to break up this little love-fest, but we need to agree on tomorrow's schedule." Ms. Morganstein pulled out her smart phone and started swiping and tapping. "We can do the initial scene blocking at six."

  "In the morning?" Carey squeaked.

  Ms. Morganstein gave a barely-there nod, but focused her attention on Rock. "Will that suit?"

  "Yes. Carey can show you the areas mentioned in the contract."

  "Since you are limiting the days we film in the house, we won't do any work inside until we've done all the scenes we can with the outbuildings and outside."

  Rock relaxed back in his chair. "Good idea."

  In other words, he wasn't budging on those limits.

  Art frowned, but he just said. "We'd better get back to the lodge then. If we're going to be back here at the ass-crack of dawn."

  "I'll bring my stuff with me tomorrow morning," Carey said to his brother.

  Rock nodded. "Good."

  Ms. Morganstein gave Deborah a questioning look.

  "I brought my things over this afternoon." She didn't offer any explanation beyond that.

  As awkward as the situation felt, it was none of their business. Deborah's decisions were her own.

  "Are you sure you prefer to stay here?" Ms. Morganstein asked, a wealth of meaning in her words.

  "Who wouldn't?" Seriously. Even without the phenomenal sex, Rock's home was beautiful and quiet.

  The Northern Lights Lodge was nicer than she'd expected of the small town, but it couldn't compete with the millionaire's home. And the chance for quiet to study her lines and regroup after a day of filming was something she would never turn down.

  Ms. Morganstein studied Deborah for several seconds before giving a sharp nod. "All right then. We will see you tomorrow."

  The others left, and Deborah found herself helping Rock clean off the dining table.

  "I'm surprised you don't leave this for Mrs. Painter."

  "I would never."

  "I like that."

  He stopped in front of her, putting the dishes she was holding back on the table before pulling her into his arms for one of those shattering kisses he was so darn good at.

  When he stepped back, she had to force herself to focus. "What was that for?"

  "Do I have to have a reason?"

  "Other than finding me irresistibly attractive? Nope," she teased.
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  "Good thing I do then."

  She'd been admired for her beauty, her body coveted by men who liked the idea of taking someone famous to bed, but no one had ever found her sexually irresistible.

  Not like this man.

  "You're really good for my ego."

  "You're not good for my self-control. Let's get this stuff to the kitchen so I can take you to my bed."

  "I don't get my own room?" she teased.

  "Sure, but you're sleeping in my bed."

  "You're not even a little shy about what you want, are you?"

  "Should I be?"

  "No." She liked him fine just the way he was.

  His smoldering look told her they had better get the table cleared or she was going to end up being made love to on it.

  She didn't want that memory the next time she ate in here with her colleagues.

  Deborah grabbed the stack of dishes and hotfooted it to the kitchen.

  She was putting the serving dish to soak when she felt heat against her back. Rock's hands came around to cup her breasts, his hard body pressing into her from behind. "You look damn sexy at my sink."

  "Some women might find that comment sexist."

  "Good thing you're the one standing here." He bent down and pressed heated lips against her neck. "I like the way you look in my home. The only improvement would be you standing here naked."

  She would have laughed but didn't have enough air. She'd known that was what he meant.

  "I don't usually do the dishes naked."

  "No?" he asked, teasing along her neck with his teeth.

  She shivered, electric shocks of pleasure jumping like lightning from one nerve ending to the next.

  He tugged at her earlobe with his teeth. "Feel good?"

  "You know it does." Her voice rose an octave as his tongue came into play.

  Rock Jepsom knew way too much about how to give pleasure to a woman. To her.

  Dizzy with that pleasure, Deborah dropped her head back. She let herself rest against his muscular chest, taking advantage of the stability and giving him better access.

  The ultra-masculine sound of approval he made went right through her. Heat and pleasure coalesced in her core. A molten swirl of sensations she should be too tired, not to mention sated from earlier, to be experiencing.