CHAPTER ONE
JULIAN DE LAURENT had lost faith in his plan. He thought the ad he’d placed in the L.A. Trades, looking for a regal-type actress for an extended gig abroad, would bring out the finest America had to offer. So far that hadn’t happened, at least in Los Angeles.
Evident by the young lady who’d just left his table in the back corner of Donato’s, a high-end bistro on the coast just south of Malibu. The scent of her cheap perfume lingered long after she’d gone and snuffed out the more pleasing aroma of the fresh grilled Panini Julian had dined on for lunch. Between her fragrance and her appearance, Vanessa Indigo had failed miserably at meeting Julian’s standards.
Not that there was anything wrong with her blue-tipped hair and excessive tattoos, but Julian needed a woman with an air of sophistication. His choice had to look and act like she’d been groomed for one thing—to marry into the de Laurent family.
In addition to her savoir-faire, it would help if she had fine hips and long legs. He didn’t particularly care about the size of her breasts. They could be small, medium or large. Her mouth was more important. Kissable lips, or the lack thereof, was a deal-breaker. Her hair color wasn’t a factor. Neither were her eyes. He just had to look into them and see love.
The girl he chose would have to be one hell of an actress if he hoped to convince Papa.
Julian was ready to wind up the interviews when a young blonde walked through the entrance. Every physical trait he’d deemed important was wrapped in cultured class.
She’s perfect.
She stopped at the hostess, and Julian dared to consider that she might be there for him. He sighed when the girl pointed Ms. Perfect toward Soren, Julian’s valet, sitting at the bar patiently waiting to greet the applicants.
She was here for him. Thank God.
Soren glanced his way, and Julian nodded. He’d told Soren no more today, but that was before she’d waltzed in. She was the answer to his predicament.
Ms. Perfect followed Soren to the table and Julian stood as she stopped in front of him.
“Mademoiselle.” He pulled a chair out for her. She looked ideal for the part. Hopefully she’d be as refined as she appeared.
“My name is Camille Chandler,” she said, dropping into the chair and perching her purse onto her lap and a briefcase at her chair’s side.
“Julian de Laurent.” He snuck a peek at her hands, her left hand in particular. No rings. Good.
She thumbed through the satchel and offered him a single piece of paper. “Here’s a bit of my acting history.” A shadow of insecurity darkened her turquoise eyes so briefly he questioned its realism. She settled her gaze on him and his heart danced with excitement.
Julian didn’t care about her acting history. He was more interested in whether or not she’d come across as convincing. It was one thing to act like his wife, and completely another to look the part.
He took the resume, glanced over the paper and dropped it onto the table next to his plate. “Are you hungry, Miss Chandler? Can I order you something?”
“No thank you. Nothing to eat. But I wouldn’t mind having an iced tea.” Her voice lulled him into a relaxed mood.
Julian waved at the waiter. “Could you bring the lady an iced tea?” he said, and glanced at Camille. “Sugar or unsweetened?”
“Unsweetened,” she said, reaching for the sugar substitute.
Hm. Did women as young and softly rounded as her worry about their figures? He saw nothing wrong with hers. It belonged in a Ferrari.
Another waitress passed by with a piece of apple pie.
“Ooh, is the apple pie fat free?” she asked.
“No ma’am. But we do have a nice low fat custard.”
“I’ll have a piece of the apple pie. And can I get a scoop of vanilla ice cream on the side?”
She fiddled with a couple of Splenda packets, waiting for the iced tea. Julian tried to figure the odds against her putting the sugar substitute in her drink.
The waiter returned and set a glass in front of her. “Your pie will be right out.” He paused just a second or two and then moved away from the table.
Camille ripped the Splenda packets open and dumped the contents into her tea. Fascinating.
“Have you been able to earn a competent living as an actress?” He began fishing for information just to get a feel for her potential as an actress.
She gave an impromptu shrug. “Not as much as I’d like, but I do okay.” She paused as the waiter appeared with her ice cream and pie. Once he’d left, she continued on. “I get enough commercials and bit parts to pay the rent,” she said with a hint of laughter and then scooped her ice cream and pie together onto her fork.
The most satisfied look crossed her face as the sweet treats mixed together inside her mouth. It wasn’t a depraved expression, but said I really like this and I’m not worried about over-indulging. She picked up her iced tea and washed the remnants down with her artificially sweetened drink.
The whole concept confused Julian. He drew a breath. A sweet soft scent, one that reminded him of lavender, invaded his senses. It wasn’t an overwhelming or an expensive perfume, but it did its job effectively.
He summoned the bravado to discuss her odd eating habits. “I’ve got to ask about your method of sweetening your tea.”
“Artificial sweeteners melt easier in iced tea,” she said. “There’s nothing worse than bitter, under-sweetened tea.” Her features contorted in an expression of distaste.
This girl’s major complaint was unsweetened iced tea? That suggested an easy-going demeanor. He liked that.
He also liked her wholesome good looks. She was dressed simply but smartly in a plain, skirted suit of pale blue. Designer labels wouldn’t be found on the garment, and it wasn’t as chic as a snug custom-made fit, but it was adequate for her station in life. And, it complimented, brightened her blue eyes.
“So what’s your deal?” she asked.
“My deal?”
“Yeah.” Her fingers, tapered and delicate, caressed the glass. “What exactly is this acting gig?” She gave him a scrutinizing look. “I take it you’re not a movie producer.”
“No, I’m not a producer,” he said. “You won’t win any Oscars with this role, but it pays well.”
Her face drew into a terribly serious expression and she peered at him shrewdly. “Well, if I’m not going to get an Oscar nod...then it’d better pay damn well.” She took another bite of her dessert.