It was, Yohanna thought the next moment, not unlike being in the center of an all but blinding light show.
Along with the raised voices of reporters who were all vying to snare the majority of Lukkas’s attention, she heard the lower somewhat rhythmic sound of cameras going off, automatically snapping photographs while other cameras were videotaping their every move until the next stellar subject came into view.
Her natural inclination was to pick up speed and get away from the noise, the reporters and the flashing lights of their cameras as quickly as possible.
But she wasn’t here as herself; she was here in connection with Lukkas. This was his night, not hers, and she was well aware that whatever she did, good or bad, would ultimately reflect on him. That was just the way things were.
So despite the fact that she found being photographed almost nonstop from every single possible angle more than a little unsettling, she reminded herself that this wasn’t about her. It was about Lukkas. She wasn’t Yohanna Andrzejewski; she was the production assistant who Lukkas Spader had brought with him to this important Hollywood premiere. As such, she had to convey the proper message as well as conduct herself accordingly. In no way was she to act as if she was his “date” beyond the fact that she was attending this premiere with him.
A second later she realized that not only cameras but questions were being directed at her.
“How long have you and Lukkas been dating?” a disembodied voice, a shade louder than the rest, asked.
Here we go, Yohanna thought. She took a breath as inconspicuously as possible, then answered, “We’re not.” Yohanna flashed a smile in the general direction the question had come from. “I work for Mr. Spader. Bringing me with him to this premiere is just his generous way of thanking me for doing what he considered to be an excellent job.” She glanced toward Lukkas as she added, “I’m really excited to be here.”
“How about it, Lukkas? Is what she just said true? Or are you really just trying to put one over on the public?” the same loud voice asked.
He had been the subject of endless speculation ever since his wife’s funeral. After almost three years he was prepared for these kinds of questions.
“I wouldn’t dream of insulting the viewing public that way. The only fantasies I create can be seen right up there on the screen,” Lukkas replied genially.
There were more questions, fired at them from any one of a number of people swarming around them. Lukkas politely dealt with several of them, and then, just as politely, begged off.
“That’s all for now, guys. The movie’s about to start and I make it a point never to be late for my own productions,” he explained amicably. His hand on the small of Yohanna’s back, Lukkas gently ushered her along with him.
Moving briskly beside him, Yohanna didn’t allow herself to breathe a sigh of relief until they were finally inside the theater.
Turning to Lukkas, she confessed, “I had no idea that reporters were this intense.” Red carpet or not, going from the limousine to the inside of the theater was almost like being subjected to a baptism by fire.
“Actually, I think they were taking it easier than they normally do,” he told her. “The reporters and paparazzi aren’t used to me attending premieres with anyone. Not in the past few years anyway,” he added, an unmistakable touch of sadness in his voice. He pushed it aside as he smiled at her, approval evident in his eyes. “By the way, you handled yourself very nicely.”
He’d made the last sentence sound almost like an afterthought, but the fact that he’d said it at all made her feel as if she was successfully doing her job. She focused on that rather than the fact that his hand was still against the small of her back, ever so lightly guiding her through the lobby.
Warm, delicious pinpricks of heat were darting through her.
“Maybe I can add that to my résumé someday,” she responded whimsically. “‘Will shill on demand.’”
Laughing, Lukkas promised, “I’ll give you a letter of recommendation when it comes time.”
When it comes time.
Yohanna rolled the words over in her head, wondering if her actual days of being in the producer’s employ were numbered.
The next moment she decided she wasn’t going to think about that now. If that did turn out to be the case, it wouldn’t be anything she hadn’t already been through—and survived. For now, she intended to make herself totally indispensable to the man in every way possible, doing what she was good at.
What she needed to do right this minute was to not react to the feel of his arm around her shoulders as he escorted her inside the actual theater where the huge IMAX screen was located. Shivers were moving up and down her spine, making every inch of her acutely aware of the man beside her.
And she definitely wasn’t thinking of him as her employer at the moment.
C’mon, Yohanna, focus. Focus.
The house lights were beginning to dim. She felt Lukkas’s arm slip from her shoulders. One contact substituted for another. Before she knew it, he was taking her hand.
Her heartbeat quickened even though she silently insisted that Lukkas was merely trying to make sure she didn’t stumble in the darkened theater.
“Our seats are up front,” he whispered.
As if on cue, an usher appeared in front of them. He led the way, using a flashlight to illuminate the path down the aisle.
The theater was filled to capacity with not even standing room available, but as far as she was concerned, she and Lukkas were alone in the theater, making their way to the first row.
Progress was achieved in slow motion. The journey down the aisle to the first row felt like an eternity. The only theaters she had ever frequented vied with medium-size living rooms when it came to square footage. This theater was so large it could have swallowed up at least a dozen—if not more—of those theaters. Possibly also a few of the smaller towns.
And then, finally, they came to the row that matched the ticket stubs they’d been given, arriving just as the curtain was being drawn back. A giant dormant screen came into view.
“Just in time,” Lukkas whispered, lowering his lips to her ear.
She was acutely aware of his breath as it lightly glided along her cheek and neck.
She struggled hard to keep a shiver from surfacing. She wasn’t seventeen anymore, Yohanna silently insisted.
It didn’t help.
“Just in time,” she echoed, hoping that Lukkas couldn’t hear the way her heart had started to pound. Threading her way into the row, Yohanna gratefully sank into her seat as the opening credits appeared on the screen.
Another shaky sigh of relief escaped her lips before she could stifle it. She crossed her fingers, hoping that Lukkas hadn’t noticed.
* * *
“You never took your eyes off the screen the entire time,” Lukkas commented as, nearly two and a half hours later, they made their way up the aisle to leave the theater.
Progress was slow going because it seemed as if every third person they passed wanted to congratulate the producer on the quality of the film he had shepherded into existence.
She told him what everyone else was saying. “It was a good movie.”
Rather than gloat, he allowed his natural humility to take over. “You have to say that.”
Moving ever closer to the double doors the ushers had opened, she spared him a glance. Didn’t he know her at all? She would have thought with the man’s keen perception, he would have had a bead on her character—good and bad—by now. Obviously not.
“The only thing I have to do is show up on time in the morning and put in a full day’s work before I leave for the night,” she pointed out. “Empty flattery was not in the job description. And how do you know I never took my eyes off the screen?” she asked. “Weren’t you watching the movie?”
“I’ve seen it,” he told her drily, then added honestly, “I was looking around to gauge everyone else’s reaction to the movie.” His voice didn’t betray whether the answer to that had pleased him or had caused him concern.
The lights had gone up some, but for the most part, the theater was still rather dimly lit. He couldn’t have been able to see far, she thought.
“Kind of dark for that, wasn’t it?” she asked.
“Which was why I spent a lot of time looking at you,” he told her simply.
That wasn’t entirely true. Gauging Hanna’s reaction to the movie was only part of the reason his attention had kept being drawn back to her. Something about the young woman kept tugging at him, a connection of sorts that he was both hesitant to explore and yet felt almost compelled to.
He was borrowing trouble, as his grandmother used to say, and his life was already too full. He didn’t need any extra complications being wedged into it.
And yet...
And yet nothing, Lukkas reminded himself sternly. People were counting on him for their very livelihood. He had no time to stray off a path he had set down for himself three years ago. A path that was the only thing keeping him sane.
No sooner had he and Hanna finally reached the lobby than they were joined by a tall, blustery man who immediately took his hand and pumped it.
“Judging from the bits and pieces I’ve been picking up,” Darren Thompson, the head of the studio that was set to distribute Lukkas’s film throughout the country, told him, “it looks as though you’ve got yourself another winner on your hands, Spader.”
“We’ve got another hopeful winner on our hands,” Lukkas corrected. Aware of his abilities as well as the quality of what he produced, Lukkas was always cautiously optimistic in his statements. No one could fault a man for being cautious.
But they could tease him about it.
The studio executive shook his head. “For once in your life, Spader, cut loose, for heaven’s sake.” The man turned toward Yohanna with no warning. “Help me out here,” Thompson requested. “Tell the man how good his movie is.”
“I already did,” Yohanna told the executive. “But Mr. Spader comes around at his own pace. Nothing anyone can do but wait until he catches up.”
“I like her,” Thompson said, nodding in Yohanna’s direction as he clapped one wide, heavy paw of a hand on Lukkas’s back. “Where did you find her and are there more like her?” he asked brightly. “I could use a few level heads working for me at the studio.”
Yohanna answered for the producer, sparing him a possible awkward situation. “He found me under a rock labeled Organizer, and I’m one of a kind.”
Amused, Thompson laughed heartily. “I believe that, I surely do. Careful, Spader, or I’ll steal her away from you.” He punctuated the so-called threat with a broad wink.
“Not anytime soon, you won’t,” Lukkas told him with a good-natured smile on his lips. “I still need her. She’s got a lot of organizing left to do before I’m close to being a done deal.”
Was he telling the truth or just running interference for her? she wondered. She knew which she hoped it was. But this was work, not pleasure, and she needed to remember that and act accordingly.
“We’ll see,” Thompson promised, his tone pregnant with self-confidence. “In the meantime, I’d keep her close if I were you.”
Lukkas looked at her as they parted company with the studio executive. Close. Heaven knew the directive was appealing. He would have liked nothing better than to keep her close.
Which was exactly why he shouldn’t.
This was the first woman he was reacting to since he’d lost Natalie. He had no doubt that this situation constituted his version of a rebound. It would be insulting to his wife’s memory and it would definitely be unfair to Hanna if he allowed himself to begin what would only have an abrupt, unhappy ending in its future.
“Should I be worried?” he asked Yohanna, tongue in cheek.
Not certain if he was being serious or not, she decided her best bet was to act innocent until she could piece his question together.
“I don’t know. Worried about what in particular?” she asked.
He put it as succinctly as possible. “That you’ll jump ship.”
He watched in fascination as the corners of her mouth curved, forming a smile that was all but irresistible in his opinion.
“Not while we’re out in the middle of the ocean,” she quipped. “Besides,” she added on a serious note, “there’s still too much to do and I never willingly leave a job half finished. So unless you’re planning on letting me go any time soon, just let me do my job and everyone’ll be happy.”
They were in the theater lobby and discovered that even here the progress to the front doors was incredibly slow moving.
She knew he didn’t like being forced to move at this pace. It couldn’t even be described as crawling.
“Bet you’re glad that this evening’s over,” she commented. How could so many glittering, beautiful people be crammed into such a small space? she wondered.
“You’d lose that bet on two counts,” Lukkas informed her. “I’m not all that glad and the evening’s not over.”
She wasn’t sure if she’d heard him correctly. “It’s not?”
“No.” He lowered his head to make sure that she heard him. The noise level had gone up again. “We still have a party to attend, remember?”
She knew that there was an after-party, but she’d just assumed that he’d want to attend it without having her around. “I just thought—”
“Premieres are always followed by parties.”
His tone of voice didn’t leave any room for argument. She took her cue from that. Besides, Cecilia had said as much to her when they had gone shopping for her gown earlier. There was always a party.
“Right. What was I thinking?” she quipped, hoping that Lukkas wouldn’t feel inclined to make a whimsical guess.
Lukkas allowed himself a short laugh. “The Shadow knows.”
Obviously confused, Yohanna paused to look at him quizzically.
Lukkas realized the obscure reference had gone right over her head. “Sorry, that was way before your time—and mine, if you’re wondering,” he added quickly. “I was raised on old classic programs. The Shadow was an old, old radio program. The opening and closing lines were always—”
Yohanna nodded. They were finally outside the theater. After being inside for so long, the cool night air felt almost downright chilly. She pulled her wrap closer around her, silently blessing Cecilia’s instincts.
“‘Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow knows,’” she quoted.
The completely stunned expression on Lukkas’s face pleased her.
“You’re familiar with that?” Lukkas asked in disbelief.
“Guilty as charged.” And then she admitted, “I’m a trivia buff.”
Lukkas raised his hand, signaling their position to his limo driver. The same fans who had lined the streets earlier were still there, waiting to catch another glimpse of the film’s celebrities.
“You are just full of surprises, Hanna,” he told Yohanna with a wide, approving smile.
The limo pulled up, and rather than wait for the driver to hop out and open doors for them, Lukkas opened the rear door, gesturing for Yohanna to get in.
“C’mon, let’s get this party over with,” he urged. “With a little luck, I’ll have you back, safe and sound, in your own bed by midnight, Cinderella.”
“You’re the boss,” she said, sliding carefully into the limousine.
“For now,” he agreed.
Yohanna wasn’t sure just what he meant by that, but she thought it best to leave it alone. That way, she was able to put her own meaning to things without being disillusioned.
* * *
She had to admit she was pleasantly surprised that Lukkas remembered his initial promise to her even at the party. She’d expected him either to wander away or be drawn away by one of the myriad of people—men and most notably women—who were competing for his attention. But each time he did move on to talk to someone, Lukkas ushered her along with him.
And if, by some chance, someone was talking to her at the time, Lukkas waited until she was finished and the verbal exchange was over.
She caught herself thinking that it was almost as if they actually were a couple.
Almost.
But she knew there was a fine line between reality and make-believe—especially here, in the very birthplace of make-believe—and she knew the difference.
Still, it was hard not to fall into the very tempting trap of pretending, just for a little while, that things were the way they seemed rather than the way they actually were.
* * *
The party continued until after midnight.
Lukkas had checked with her a couple of times to see if she wanted—or was ready—to go home. But each time he asked, she convinced him that she was wide-awake and doing just fine.
Until she was fading and tired.
The next time he asked, she still made the proper protests, but this time he overrode her.
“Save your breath, Cinderella. I’m taking you home,” he told her.
She didn’t want to be the reason why he had to leave the party. As the producer of what was, by all indications, a blockbuster of a movie, this was his time to shine and she didn’t want to spoil that for him. After all, he owed her nothing. He’d already been far more thoughtful than she would have expected him to be.
“No, really,” she protested with feeling, “I’m fine. We can stay—or you can stay and I can just get a cab to take me home.”
But Lukkas shook his head. “I’m going home with the one I brung,” he told her.
His grammar had always been impeccable. Had he had too much to drink? But she’d been with him all night and as far as she knew, he’d only had two flutes of champagne. Maybe she was the one out of kilter.
“Excuse me?”
“Never mind,” he laughed. “It’s just an old saying that used to make the rounds a few generations ago.”
“What are you, a time traveler?” she asked, thinking of some of the previous remarks he’d made that sounded as if they had come from another era.
“Sometimes,” he conceded. “Did you see One Foot in the Past?”
He had just mentioned one of her favorite movies. “Yes, I did. That one really made you think,” she told him.
Lukkas grinned with genuine pleasure. “I’m beginning to like you more and more with every passing hour, Hanna.” He looked as if he was only half kidding.
Don’t get carried away, Yohanna warned herself. He was just going along with the party mood. In any event, she was certain he wouldn’t remember any of this on Monday morning.
Still, she thought as he called for his driver, what he’d said to her did have a nice sound to it.
Savoring it for a little while longer wouldn’t harm anything.