Hollywood Tiger: BBW Tiger Shifter Paranormal Romance (Hollywood Shifters Book 3) (6 page)

Jackpot.

She yanked out her cell, clicked on her camera, and began leafing through the papers in that file, taking pictures as fast as she could, while mentally counting under her breath. She dared not be missing more than five minutes.

She paused when she came to the contract for the screenplay. It certainly looked legal—according to it, the writer, named Emma Gordon, had been paid 1.2 million dollars.

Wow. Further papers disclosed salaries commensurate. So far it certainly looked like a major picture, but then what she knew about actual filmmaking could be measured in teaspoons.

Some shift of the air, some subliminal noise alerted her. Time to go.

She shoved the files back in, and glanced at the others, which had much thinner files. Other fake pictures? She didn’t have time to find out.

She retrieved her doodad, threw it and her camera in her purse, and ran to the door. Turn the handle slowly . . . slowly . . .
so the lock doesn’t click loudly.

She cracked the door a sliver. The air pressure must have changed when someone had come in the front door—and yes, there was a UPS guy setting a bunch of manila packages on the receptionist’s desk. The two were busy talking to each other.

Mindy slipped out, then retreated to the restroom, where she washed her hands, then opened the door and marched down the hall, knowing she trailed the scent of soap.

The receptionist glanced her way. “Oh! I didn’t see you come in.”

“They told me where to find the restroom,” Mindy said, and grinned. “I didn’t want to interrupt you and shirtless Sam.”

The receptionist laughed, then turned to deal with the pile of mail. Mindy wondered if all those thick manila envelopes were more screenplays that would end up in that file cabinet. Unread, from the looks of the ones already there.

When she got to the sound stage, she headed straight for the two young women at the table. “Hi,” she said, giving them a big smile. “Jerome told me to talk to you. About a part? He said you’re the screenwriter?” At the name ‘Jerome’ they both stiffened a little.

“I’m Emma,” said the blonde with cute little square glasses. She exchanged a look with the other as she said, “I’m the writer. This is Kayli, our P.A.”

Mindy said cheerily, “It’s so exciting to meet a real screenwriter! Tell me all about it!”

Emma brightened, and at first began talking haltingly, gaining enthusiasm as she went. Mindy learned that she was a second year student at Cal Arts Film School, and
Millennium Gate
had started out as her screenwriting class project, in which a girl goes back in time and meets Vikings, and how the two cultures compare.

Then she lucked out, meeting Mr. Haskell at a school function that had invited industry people, they fell into conversation, and next thing she knew, she had a real offer.

“We got green-lighted right away, before I’d even finished my first draft! But ever since we began principal photography, we’ve had a lot of changes.”

She indicated a screenplay filled with green, pink, blue, and bright orange pages, which Mindy gathered were rewrites. The story sounded confusing as Emma backtracked and filled in and corrected herself, but it sounded like now it was a sci-fi action flick, where Vikings from the year 1016 sail out of some alien time warp into Marina Del Rey a thousand years later, and attack Los Angeles.

“It’s the experience of a lifetime,” Emma said earnestly, as though Mindy were taking notes. “Interning with a real production studio will look so great on my resume—it’ll get me into the Writer’s Guild once the picture comes out, and that’ll get me a decent agent—and all before my junior year!”

“Interning,” Mindy repeated, mentally aging Emma down. She couldn’t be any older than nineteen. “Doesn’t that mean working gratis?”

Emma’s lips parted, and her expression paled. Mindy had never seen the color actually drain out of a person’s face before. “I didn’t say—I didn’t mean—” Another quick look at Kayli, and she said low-voiced, “My NDA states that I’m not supposed to discuss anything until release. It’s such an opportunity, and it’ll be great when the picture comes out—doors will open all over town.”

“It’s so incredibly hard to break in,” Kayli said earnestly.

“Oh, I know,” Mindy said, waving a hand. “That’s what
everybody
says, and I don’t know a
thing
about the film world,” and watched two faces clear. “I’m just a dancer. Is there any room for me in that story?”

Another exchanged look, and Emma said, “I’m in the middle of rewriting the scene we’re shooting on location on Sunday. Did Mr. Haskell tell you—”

The sound of male voices interrupted them.

“You girls getting along?” Haskell asked in such a patronizing tone that Mindy wanted to clock him with a boom mike.

“Oh, yes,” she chirped, looking past him to Dennis. “That is, Emma’s been telling me the story, and it’s so
exciting!
”

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Haskell said with another of his
hurr hurr hurr
chuckles. “Listen, we’re gonna be on location right off Sunset Blvd in a few days. It’s been all over
Variety
. Everyone’s talking about it—talk about free publicity! Would you like an exclusive pass?”

Mindy clapped her hands.

“Danny and I are getting our ducks in a row. Once we close our deal, you get an executive chair at a real location shoot, and afterwards we’ll celebrate. How’s Spago sound?”

“I can hardly wait!” Mindy gave a Paytonish squeal.

Dennis clapped his free hand against his thigh. “Well, I’m gonna build a fire under my guy. I can hardly wait to get in on the fun.”

“Trust me, you won’t be sorry. I tell you, producing films is addictive—there’s no bigger rush. Other than maybe a day in the hay with a cutie.” He leered at Mindy, that ham hand reaching out for another swat, and she made sure her butt was well out of range.

Dennis stepped between them, keeping his cane on Haskell’s side as they exited the sound stage. He looked pissed, Mindy thought—but then his face smoothed out.

Haskell escorted them all the way to the parking lot, gassing on about opportunities and big plans, until Dennis shut the car door.

Neither of them spoke until they drove through the gate, then Dennis said, his voice grating, “I’m sorry that prick got handsy. I wanted to punch him through the window.”

“It’s okay,” Mindy said. “I told myself Payton would love the attention, and promised myself that Mindy would get paybacks.”

Dennis snorted his breath out, his eyes still angry under lowered brows. “Okay. Your call. You’re a damn good sport, I have to say. Especially as that was a shitload of nothing. He may be an obnoxious ass clown, but he’s not stupid. He isn’t going to let me in until he has money in hand.”

“And so I did get paybacks,” Mindy said. “I got pictures.”

“What?” He slewed her way, nearly sideswiped a car, then gritted his teeth. “Hold on. I’ve got a headache the size of Texas, and I don’t want to get us killed.”

Neither of them spoke until he had driven down a couple streets, then pulled into a parking lot behind a mini-mall just off Laurel Canyon.

He put the car in park and turned her way. “Pictures, you say? Of what?”

“Files. In his file cabinet. I sneaked back there while you guys were yakking in the soundstage.”

“God, you’re wonderful,” he breathed.

He cupped his hands around her face, and kissed her. Heat shot from her lips to her toes.

She grabbed his shirt and kissed him back.

Chapter Six

He didn’t mean to do it. But nothing in that long, shitty afternoon was right until Mindy’s soft lips parted, and those big spaniel-brown eyes rounded, and she whispered, “I got pictures.”

And then it just happened—his tiger roared inside him and his brain froze as he grabbed hold of her face and laid one on her.

Then she kissed him back. Not a granny peck or a good-bye-and-good-luck smack, but head-tilting, tongue searching, scorching hot mouth-to-mouth that obliterated his brain altogether.

He had no idea how long that went on. It could have been the hottest minute in history—or it could have been half an hour, but it would never be enough—they fell apart, clothing awry, breathing shaky. He had a four-hundred horsepower boner, and she looked at him with those eyes of hers, framed by wild curls, her lips soft and parted, her nipples straining against that halter top.

“Five miles,” he managed. “My friend loaned me his house. It’s empty. Five miles away, on the other side of the hills.” He looked at her, his entire body frozen in inarticulate question.

“Yes,” she breathed.

Afterward he never remembered how he managed to get to JP’s house. All he knew was they made it to the guest room after stopping to kiss in the garage, the laundry room off the garage, the kitchen, the hallway, and then they reached the guest room, after leaving a trail of shoes, socks, his jacket, her purse and sandals, his shirt, and there they were, standing before the bed he’d made Marine-style before leaving that morning.

Her mouth, sweet and soft as peaches and cream, shook as he plundered it, then she came back at him biting, nipping, licking. He was hazily aware of his hands drifting down the silk of her dress to cup her wonderful ass, and oh, then he slid his palms under the hem, to find her totally naked.

His brain exploded. “You are so damn hot,” he muttered into her lips. He picked her up and threw her on the bed. “For three days I’ve wanted . . .”

“What?” she asked, smiling as she rolled to her knees, then did that marvelous thing as she shrugged out of her dress and flung it.

“This.” He eased her back on the bed and knelt between her knees, which she obligingly widened, her eyes glittering with heat.

He started on the inside of one knee, kissing softly, slowly, deliberately. Her skin was silkier than silk, warm and there was no fucking way she wasn’t wearing some billion dollar scent from Paris, because she smelled so damn good he found himself moving faster as he traced up her thigh to the sweet hollow there.

She made a little noise that zinged straight to his cock, which was already rock hard. But that could damn well wait. Because he was not going to miss a second here—and with lips, teeth, and tongue, set about driving her wild, until those little noises reached higher and higher with each breath she took.

And when her body trembled, her back arched, he licked slowly around her clit as he slid two fingers inside her warm, wet folds. He sensed her shuddering on the knife edge, and sucked her over the brink. She clenched hard on the bedclothes, and he caressed her as she came down, then moved up to lie next to her, his fingers tracing over her trembling belly and up to caress her breasts.

“M-m-m-m, good as that feels,” she murmured, “I think it’s my turn.”

She pounced upright in one of those sudden, sprightly moves of hers and pushed him flat. Then she knelt between his legs and leaned over to slowly pull the zipper down.

His cock was so hard it was nearly painful as it strained against the confining fabric. It sprang free, the air making him jump.

She flashed him a triumphant grin, then rolled off the bed entirely, putting her hands to the hem of his pants.

He lifted his hips and she yanked his trousers off, and then slowly slid his boxers down before climbing to sit astride his legs. She ooohed down at his cock as though she’d just discovered a candy cane, and stroked him with her fingernails before lowering her mouth over the tip. As her tongue swirled around the head and poked teasingly at the tip, he bucked, and he knew he was going to lose it soon.

What’s more, though never in his life would he have turned down some head, the need to be inside her was so overwhelming he sat up. “Mindy . . .” he breathed.

“Let me,” she said, and when he pulled the condom from the nightstand, she did that thing with her teeth again, and slowly, teasingly unrolled it—

“Oh God,” he gritted, his teeth clamped shut as he held himself simmering at the edge.

Still with that mischievous, triumphant grin she rose up on her knees, rolled her hips in one of those smoking hot undulations, and lowered herself onto him.

Two inches in and he began to buck.

Mate
, the tiger stirred.

Mindy laughed low in her throat and began to ride him, each stroke taking him deeper, those amazing muscles of hers clenching and releasing, which shot him to a higher brink than he’d ever been in his life.

Mate!
The tiger roared deep in his core.

The entire bed was shaking as they worked together in a primal rhythm. She tightened, tightened, he reached down to grip her hips, and she threw her head back as he expelled his breath with the force of his orgasm, and wave after wave took them both down into boneless, mindless bliss.

* * *

For one sweet minute Mindy reveled in the afterglow, aware of Dennis’s arm curled around her, his fingers slowly and gently caressing her ribs.

Then came the
what have you done, you idiot?
mental yelling. She’d had sex twice with a guy she didn’t even know. Well, yes, she did know some things.

His name was Dennis O’Keefe. She’d never thought the name Dennis sexy before, but just thinking it gave her echo-pulses in deep places.

She knew he came from a small town.

She knew his dad was a Marine.

She knew he loved travel, and had made a lot of trips, and when he didn’t, he’d had a couple of friends with whom he’d watched
Mork and Mindy
.

She knew he was still friends with at least one of them, because they were in this guy’s house now. So the guy had to be pretty successful because she could turn her head toward the huge windows, and see glimpses of L.A. below, half-obscured by California black oak. She was in the Hollywood Hills, not all that far from her own apartment just off Wilshire.

She treasured up each of these nuggets until the horrible thought occurred: at some point he was going to want to know stuff about
her
.

His fingers had stopped. She hoped he was asleep, and carefully wriggled free. She rolled off the bed, and was halfway to the bathroom when his low, rough voice stopped her. “You’re not going to vanish, are you?”

She turned. He lay naked on the bed, his gorgeous body warmed by the golden shafts of late afternoon sunlight slanting in between gently moving leaves. Her heart squeezed and she resisted the impulse to dive right back into that wildly rumpled bed.

“I don’t even know where I am. Except somewhere in the Hills.” She couldn’t help a smile. He was just so luscious, with his thick, tawny hair hanging tousled on his forehead and spilled against the pillow, the light catching gold glints in his chest hair. The long play of muscles down his body. “I just want to . . .” And she jerked her thumb at the bathroom door.

For answer, he grinned back, reached down to the side of the bed, and picked up her sandals. “I’m holding these hostage. Just in case.”

His grin was so bad-boy she laughed as she walked into the bathroom. Then stopped in total dismay when she saw herself in the mirror.

Hell’s bells, her hair had totally poodled.

She clawed at it, trying to flatten it down, but it sprang up wilder than ever. How could he look at her and not immediately suspect she was secretly a poodle? She yanked the spigots in the shower, and as soon as it was warm enough she stepped into the spray. Then she looked around, feeling a sneakily secret delight in using his soap and shampoo.

A sudden, nearly overwhelming urge to shift so she could sniff him all over and imprint all his wonderful scents made her clutch at the shower wall. Wow. What was
that?
She’d
never
felt that before.

Terror at being discovered effectively doused the sleepy, sexy feelings, and she feverishly poured shampoo on her head and scrubbed until her hair lay in wet worms on her face.

A light knock at the bathroom door, and Dennis’s muffled voice came through. “Room for two in there?”

Mindy ran her fingers through her soggy hair as her entire body flashed and tingled. She could let herself have a
little
more fun—it wasn’t like he’d interrogate her in the shower! “Come on in! The water’s fine.”

She’d never shared a shower with a guy before. Heck, she’d never made love during the day before. It had always been decorously in the dark, her body hidden by bedcovers, after which she whisked herself into her shrouding bathrobe. She shivered with daring, then winced.

Stupid! The reality was sure to be elbows bumping and water hogging and maybe he’d think her too large for the space, or look critically at her creases and folds, but when he stepped in and smiled down at her at that way she couldn’t define, little aftershocks of pleasure throbbed through her, making her breathless with anticipation.

He said, “You’re the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. May I soap you down?”

“Okay?” she said, totally not expecting that.

He started at the top of her head. Not scrubbing as she’d been doing, but gently fingering through the short curls, then he stroked with his thumbs over her brow in widening circles. She shut her eyes and tipped her head back as he massaged slow circles in the hollow of her temples, and over her cheekbones. Her knees began to tremble, it felt so amazing.

His forefinger traced over her lips, and she couldn’t resist opening her mouth to suck his finger in. His response was a huff of laughter deep in his chest, then he gently removed his finger, set his hands to her shoulders, and turned her around.

A moment’s pause, some squishing sounds with the soap, and here came his hands again with palms full of suds as he spread his fingers over her shoulders, kneading and smoothing muscles she didn’t even know she had. Her knees trembled again—it felt insanely good.

Down he worked, and when he hit the folds in her skin he caressed them and kneaded them, following every curve with his fingers spread as if he couldn’t touch enough of her. Over her arms and down to her hands, his fingers lacing with hers, as he hummed deep in his chest,
Hmmmmmmm
. He was
purring
, like a big bear, no, more like some big mountain cat.

And the dog inside Mindy melted into a puddle of goo.

Then he turned her again, and those searching thumbs spread along her collarbones, making widening circles that left swathes of heat under her skin, and she could scarcely hold herself up as her nipples tightened, exquisitely sensitized under the hissing water.

He soaped her breasts, caressing each and then kissing and licking them with a kind of intense focus as if he had nothing else in the world he would rather be doing, and the humming note changing subtly, deepening, as fire kindled deep in her core. Then his hands smoothed over her belly, caressing her flesh with slow, tender strokes, and she swayed.

By the time he reached her hips, she was on fire, and when his fingers moved at last,
at last
to her inner folds, she whimpered, lifting one knee up so she could slide her inner thigh along his hip. His cock thumped insistently against her rib, and she grabbed it with both hands, moving down the shaft to his balls.

And she began to knead, and stroke, and then playfully pinch.

The purring hum hitched, deepening to a rough, low growl.

The fire in her had reached scorching heat. She gasped, “In me.”

“I’ll get a condom,” he gasped.

For the first time ever, she didn’t care. “On the pill.”

He reached, slid his hands around her butt, and lifted her up. She closed her legs around his waist and lowered herself inch by inch onto his rock-hard cock, gyrating her hips with deliberate slowness, loving the way he slid into her, skin against his velvety skin, as though he had been made just for her.

They began to rock with frenzied rhythm as the water poured all around them. This time he came first, and the shudder of his orgasm deep in her sent her crashing over the edge to fall, and fall, and fall, as he held her tight.