When Mallory didn’t answer, Jason looked up from his phone. “What?”

  “Of course I can get them in.” She turned away from him.

  Was this the moment that the wonder of last night would make things weird? He had no one to blame but himself. “Fly them into Boston. We’ll do the auditions at Blackstone Enterprises offices in the Hancock Tower. Fifty-third floor.” He picked up his phone. “I’ll call and let them know we need a conference room, but first I need to call Marlene. Reporters are asking for interviews. Apparently, Darien is saying he didn’t do anything and was fired unjustly, so we’ll need to make a statement. Actually, get the lawyer on the phone for me,” he said, pointing at Mallory’s phone. He sat down at the kitchen table and opened his laptop.

  “Right away,” Mallory said in that cool manner she had at work, and just like that, they had slid back into their roles. As if last night hadn’t happened. That was not how Jason wanted it to go. Last night had happened, and he wanted to talk to her about it. But now was not the time—there were too many fires to be stamped out first. He knew she understood that.

  Mallory got the law firm on the phone for him, then picked up her phone and began making calls to arrange to fly the two actors to Boston to audition.

  By noon, she’d gotten both actors on board and had arranged for a plane to bring one to Boston later today—the other would be coming from New York—and set the audition for tomorrow. Jason had talked to their lawyer, and the firm was drafting a statement concerning Darien. Marlene, their staff publicist, had the spin control in full gear.

  “Okay,” Jason said. “Next up, we lock down the last two locations. I’ll get dressed and we’ll go have a look.”

  “What about Cass?”

  “He’s not going,” Jason said. “But I’ve got to get them locked in. So you’re coming with me. If we need any special permissions, you can tackle that after the auditions.”

  “Wait, Jason,” Mallory said, throwing up a hand. “Just how long am I going to be here? You said you needed help with casting.”

  Given last night, he would have thought—or hoped—that she’d want to stay on, at least for a little while. “A couple of days?”

  She lowered her hand and stared at the floor, as if she was considering it. “I have to get a room first. I can’t stay here.”

  “Wow,” he said softly.

  “Last night notwithstanding,” she quickly amended. “But I can’t stay in your family’s house. It’s not right. It’s…it’s uncomfortable.”

  He folded his arms and studied her. “Interesting perspective. Last night notwithstanding and all,” he said, a bit peevishly. “But fine, Mallory. We’ll stop at the Bickmore on the way.” He smiled at her, and as he moved past her, he tangled his fingers with hers.

  He knew they needed to talk. They needed to address the physical attraction between them, because he was not going to let it suffocate under their neglect this time. But the talk would just have to wait.

  CHAPTER TEN

  IF MALLORY COULD CHANGE one thing, it would be how messy Jason could be. He left a trail wherever he went. She would have to resist the urge to clean up after him—at least stack the papers strewn across half the kitchen table. Because she was not going to add insult to the injury of having confessed her crush to him.

  But then again, Mallory could be a little obsessive about having a neat workspace, as anyone at Blackthorne Entertainment could tell you. Still, she shuddered when she thought of what Inez would say if she knew Mallory had flown to Maine, to Jason’s mansion, to confess she had a crush, and then spend the night with him, and then clean up after him. She would deserve every word of it, too.

  But she couldn’t help herself. By the time Jason came downstairs again, shaved and dressed for the day in jeans and a T-shirt, a sweater and sneakers, and looking certifiably delectable, she had cleaned up his little office space on the kitchen table. Just in time, too. Pam, who’d brought the risotto last night, had arrived with a cheerful wave, ready to tackle some housecleaning. Mallory would have died if she’d seen how the kitchen table looked.

  “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Pam had asked.

  It was gorgeous. The storm had left in its wake a cobalt-blue sky. Rain droplets attached to the leaves of the trees glistened like crystals in the sun. There were sailboats on the ocean, serenely moving along the surface. “It’s paradise,” Mallory agreed.

  “Where are you from?”

  “California. But I rarely see the ocean, if you can believe it. Seems like I’m always going the other way.”

  “Good morning, Pam,” Jason said as he’d sauntered into the kitchen. He glanced around at Mallory’s bags stacked neatly against one wall, then looked at her.

  “Good morning, Jason!” Pam said cheerfully. “Did you weather the storm all right?”

  “Like a boss,” he said, and winked at Mallory. “How is Nana?”

  “Oh, you know your grandmother. She’s out inspecting for any damage in her garden. How long will you stay, Mallory?” Pam asked as she began to run water in the sink.

  “Oh, I’m heading back to L.A. tomorrow.”

  “Maybe not that soon,” Jason said.

  “Probably,” she countered, and shrugged lightly at his pointed look. She would decide when she left, thank you.

  “We should go,” he said, looking at his watch. He smiled at Pam. “Thanks for everything. The risotto was delicious. Just so you know, I’m getting a room in King Harbor. It will be easier for me to be close to the crew.” He picked up some things from the table and ignored Mallory’s studious look. “I’ll come back later and get some things and check in on Nana.”

  He handed a notebook to Mallory, then bent down to pick up her things. “Ready?”

  “Of course,” she said pertly. She smiled at Pam. “Thanks again for everything.”

  “Take care, Mallory!” Pam called in a sing-song voice as they went out of the kitchen.

  Mallory followed Jason out the front door and onto a drive. He popped the hatch of a Range Rover.

  “Whose car is this?”

  “It belongs to the estate,” he said, and tossed her bags inside, closed it, turned around to her and said, “So you just decided you were flying back to L.A. tomorrow?”

  “I did.”

  “I didn’t give you permission.”

  “You’re not the boss of me, Jason.”

  He arched a brow.

  “Okay, technically, you are the boss of me. But only up to a certain point. I can’t just leave L.A. without a return date. I have a life there you know.” She got in the car and refused to look at him.

  He marched around the driver’s side, climbed in, started the car and looked at her. “I knew this would happen.”

  “Knew what would happen?”

  “That you’d get verklempt and start acting weird. That’s exactly what you did the last time.”

  He put the car in gear and started driving.

  “I’m acting weird? You started barking orders at me first thing.”

  “I wasn’t barking.”

  “You barked. And I didn’t act weird the last time. I acted responsibly.”

  “Uh-uh, you’re not getting away with that persnickety superiority thing with me. You were totally weird and you know it. You half admitted it last night. I’m sorry if I barked, but we have a bit of a crisis on our hands. I’m a little caught up in it and I can’t totally change my personality just because we have insane sexual chemistry.”

  Mallory couldn’t help but smile a little. They did have insane sexual chemistry, and she was glad to know it wasn’t just her who thought so. Frankly, if she could, she would crawl onto his lap right now and kiss that smirk off his face. Instead, she folded her arms over her middle and looked out the window. “Well, me either.”

  Jason looked at her for a long moment as he pulled up to the gate. “I have something to say that will 100 percent annoy you.”

  Mallory rolled her eyes. “What is it?”

  “It’s a bit of a cliché, but in your case, it definitely applies.”

  “Go ahead, Jason—we don’t have all day. We have locations that must be nailed down, remember?” she asked, mimicking his stern instructions earlier.

  “Okay, here goes—you’re adorable when you’re mad.”

  She stared at him. What nonsense was this? “Are you kidding me? No I’m not.”

  “Yeah, you are,” he said, and grinned. “I told you you’d be annoyed.”

  “You know how I hate that sort of thing.” She’d once had to sit him down and explain to him how some of his remarks could be viewed as sexist.

  “Oh, I know.”

  “You’re just saying it to get my goat.”

  “I don’t want your goat, I’m saying it because it is true. I could kiss you right now.”

  She couldn’t keep the grin from her face. “Well, don’t. You’re driving.”

  They drove into King Harbor and down a leafy street to what looked like a grand mansion. “What is this?”

  “The Bickmore,” Jason said. “It used to belong to a film star. It’s been converted to a luxury hotel.”

  It looked extremely luxurious. Mallory was beginning to think she could get used to this life of private planes, summer estates, and luxury hotels.

  “I’ll be right back.” Jason hopped out, grabbed her things from the back hatch and jogged up the steps to the entrance. Not five minutes later, he was in the car again.

  “That was quick,” Mallory said as he strapped into his seat.

  “Yep. The Blackthornes keep a couple of rooms there in the summer for an overflow of guests.” He looked at her. “You’re getting one of them for as long as I need you.”

  “I’m getting one for as long as I agree to stay.”

  “Same thing,” he said. He reached behind her and pulled out a notebook and handed it to her. “We’ve got to give a quarry a look. The details are in there.”

  She opened the notebook and looked at the location. She picked up her phone and googled the quarry in King Harbor, then mapped it. It was about four miles out of town. “Take ninety-five.”

  “Nah,” Jason said, and turned left. “I’ll take the one.”

  “Google says the quickest way is the ninety-five.”

  “Google isn’t always right. I know another way.”

  “Oh, for the love of—why are men so damn stubborn?” she demanded of the universe.

  “Why are women so averse to adventure?” he countered.

  “I’m not averse to adventure. But I don’t like surprises. I had way too many growing up.”

  “But here’s what you’re missing—surprises can be good, too. Sit back and relax, darling, and I’ll take you on one.”

  “Yes, Mr. Blackthorne. Whatever you say, Mr. Blackthorne.”

  He put his hand on her knee and squeezed. “Don’t ruin this for me, Mallory. One of my favorite things is scouting locations.”

  “Then you should scout better ones.”

  He chuckled. “Meaning?”

  “I mean that some of the locations in season one were so uninspired that I cringe when I see them.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ve been studying the first season,” she said. She reached into her backpack and pulled out her notebook. “And I see places where we could really turn it up a notch if we are going to contend—eyes on the road!” she said as he swerved slightly across the middle lane.

  “Like what?” he insisted. “We shot most of the series in the studio last season.”

  “Like the pier in the final episode,” Mallory said. “I’m going to be brutally honest.”

  “Please.”

  “You could have afforded to take that scene where Detective Barnes confronts the killer and film it on a rockier, more remote part of the coast, just like the script calls for. But you cheaped out and went to that pier that was so touristy and not at all suspenseful.”

  “Hey,” Jason said, pointing at her. “That was Cass’s decision. It might not have been the best location, but it got the job done.”

  “It wasn’t great, Jason.”

  He looked like he wanted to agree, but he pressed his lips together and looked forward.

  “Did you notice in that scene that there are bunch of tourists in the background watching the production?”

  “So?”

  “So the viewer’s eye is drawn to them and not the action. They keep moving around and pointing at the actors.”

  He frowned and shook his head. “I saw that scene and I didn’t notice the tourists. We cleared the set.”

  “Really?” She couldn’t help a smug smile. “It’s pretty hard to clear a big public pier. You should follow some of the live tweets when the episode airs if you don’t believe me.”

  “What?” Now he looked horrified.

  “Live tweets. People who watch the show and tweet about it.”

  “I know what live tweets are. I mean, why are you saying that?”

  “Because they will, and they will tweet things that are not the most complimentary things. It’s a game to them—they are looking for a “gotcha.” Remember during the final episodes of Game of Thrones how all the online talk was about the misplaced coffee cups and water bottles?”

  Jason nodded.

  “My point is, why give viewers an opportunity to take others out of the story with that sort of thing if we don’t have to?”

  He glanced at her, then looked straight ahead. “Interesting,” he said as they pulled into the quarry parking lot.

  “What is this place?” Mallory asked.

  “And old abandoned quarry. It sits empty now, collecting graffiti and beer bottles. Cass has the idea that we can use this as the place where the killer keeps his victims.” They got out of the car and walked to the edge of the quarry. “What do you think?” Jason asked her.

  Mallory looked into the hole. It wasn’t particularly deep. “I think, are you kidding?”

  “The idea is that they can’t get out, and what is more terrifying than to be stuck in a giant hole?”

  Cass was crazy, that’s what Mallory thought. She looked down to where rainwater had collected at the bottom. This looked like a shooting nightmare, and frankly, the quarry itself didn’t look like it was inescapable. She looked around for a way into the pit. “What are the alternatives to this?”

  “An old warehouse on the other side of King Harbor.”

  Which was probably perfect, but of course Cass was going to go for either the laziest or most impossible shot. She walked around the edge of the quarry to where a small chasm ran up to the edge of the pit. There was an earthen ledge below. She crouched down, then hopped into it.

  “Hey!” Jason shouted. A moment later, his head appeared above her. “You’re not exactly dressed for spelunking.”

  “You know what is wrong with this location? It would require some manipulation to make it look really inescapable. And there is the problem of how the killer would get his victims out. I mean, presumably he’s not going to give them a ladder because they would take it and escape. Did you and Cass talk about that?”

  Jason crouched down. “Rope.”

  “And the killer is going to haul them up like sacks of flower.” She looked around. “I don’t know, Jason. Look at it. There are too many places someone desperate to escape could get a hand-hold.” She turned back and hiked up onto a rock that protruded from the side. Jason grabbed her hand and hauled her out, and she landed on a patch of earth right before him.

  His gaze was on her mouth, and it had the effect of stirring her blood. “We could cover it with scenery.”

  They were standing so close, their bodies were almost touching. “We could. But let’s go look at the warehouse.”

  “Already scouted,” he said, and his gaze moved lower, to the vee or her blouse.

  “Humor me.”

  He slowly lifted his gaze. “Cass likes the pit, Mallory. He’s the director.”

  “Does that mean you won’t even entertain any other ideas?”

  He shifted closer. She lifted her chin. She wondered if he would kiss her, or if he would realize they were in the middle of a workday. “Of course I will. But I may not agree with the other ideas I hear.”

  She smiled. “I just ask that you listen.” She stepped away from all that heat and possibility. “Can we go see that warehouse?” She started toward the car.

  Jason caught up to her just as she reached the door of the Range Rover and opened it for her. But he didn’t move out of the way so she could get in. “I will show you the warehouse,” he said. “But on one condition.”

  “Okay. What is it?”

  He touched the back of his hand to her cheek. “You call the head writer on the way and let him know we need to cut the scene where the girl runs through the forest at night in episode eight.”

  “What? Why?” Mallory protested. “That’s the best scene of this whole series!”

  “Because we’ve got to cut seven minutes in that episode, and that’s the easiest place to cut.”

  “Let me guess,” Mallory said. “Cass? He hates night shoots. He tells everyone who will listen how much he hates night shoots.”

  Jason tucked her hair behind her ear, then let his hand fall to her shoulder. “You have to trust me on this, Mallory. Cass and I know what we are doing.”

  She supposed that meant she did not know what she was doing. She supposed that meant that while he would tolerate her suggestions, he wasn’t open to taking them. And there it was again—the overwhelming urge she always had in his presence—to punch him in the mouth and then kiss him silly.

  But Mallory climbed into the vehicle and pulled out her phone to call the head writer.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE WAREHOUSE SMELLED WORSE than the first time Jason had stepped foot into it with Cass. It was freezing inside, and something was dripping from the ceiling. He noticed dark stains on the floor that he and Cass had decided was rust, but neither of them wanted to examine too closely to be sure.