One Night With You by Candace Schuler

notion, however, was dispelled with his next words. "Certainly not some scheming little groupie."
    Scheming little groupie! How dare he call her that? She forgot, in that charged instant, that she had called herself that very name. How dare he pass judgment on her, she thought indignantly. He had been there in that hotel room, too.
    "And if I find out that your so-called artistic talent is lacking in any way," he went on, seemingly unaware of her seething anger, "I'll fire you so fast your head will spin."
    "I'm a fully qualified makeup artist," she flung at him, stung by his slur on her qualifications.
    She had been fighting that kind of innuendo for most of her professional life. So-called artistic talent! If makeup wasn't a talent, then what was it? How did he think he would look in front of the cameras without her so-called talent?
    "Fully qualified," she said again. "You can check my references if—"
    She broke off abruptly, her eyes caught in the dark web of his gaze. They stared at each other for seemingly endless seconds, both pairs of eyes full of unasked questions. He made a half gesture with his hand, as if he was reaching to touch her face. Her lips, soft and trembling, started to silently form his name.
    "Damn it." The words were softly spoken but forceful, full of suppressed emotion. He dropped his hand and walked away from her. Desi watched him glance around the room.
    Like a...a hunter seeking prey, she thought.
    He dropped his arm over the shoulders of a woman, one of the lighting technicians, and steered her toward the refreshment table. Dorothea looked up as they approached, and then her sharp black eyes flickered questioningly over to Desi.
    Desi straightened, pulling away from the makeup table, and forced herself to smile at Dorothea, holding up one hand, thumb and forefinger circled, to indicate that everything was okay.
    But she was far from okay. She was literally trembling with reaction, so much so that the empty glass shook in her hands. There was anger, first and foremost, anger that he would even dare to think, let alone say, what he had.
    As if Eldin would hire her for the reason he had suggested. As if she and Eldin... He was disgusting, that's what he was, disgusting to suggest that she could even look at Eldin in that way. Eldin was one of her closest friends and, besides, he was old enough to be her father.
    Still trembling, she placed her empty glass on the makeup table before she could give in to the urge to walk over and break it on Jake's head. In the mirror, she saw Dorothea look over at her again and then approach Eldin. He looked over at her, too, a worried frown on his face, and began to move toward her.
    She had to get out of here, quickly. The one thing she couldn't take right now was any sympathy or concern from Eldin. The only thing holding her together was her anger and if Eldin started talking to her, dispersing that anger, she would fall apart, ending up in the crumbled heap on the floor at his feet. She picked up her satchel, heading for the door.
    "Are you all right, luv?" he asked, intercepting her.
    "Fine, Eldin, really." She smiled up at him a shade too brightly. "I just want to get back to the hotel and call my mother. See how Stephanie's doing. It's the first time I've been away from her overnight," she admitted. "I think it's harder on me than it is on her."
    "You're sure you're okay?" Eldin insisted. "Jake didn't say anything to upset you, did he?"
    "Him? No, of course not," she lied. "Just a few lewd suggestions. Harmless." She knew what Eldin would infer from that. He would think that Jake had made a pass at her, but it was better than his knowing what disgusting things he had said.
    Eldin's forehead creased in a frown. "I've never known Jake to be lewd," he began and then stopped, realizing that she was in no condition to stand there and listen to him tell her what a fine man Jake really was. She looked, he thought, perilously close to breaking.
    He patted her