Bordering on Obsession

  “You’ve got to promise you won’t remove the blindfold.”

  “Okay.”

  Quinn had no problem with her demand. In fact, he was beginning to realize that not knowing anything about the woman he was involved with lent a definite edge of excitement to their encounters.

  He could put up with his burning curiosity about her real identity in exchange for more moments like this one. The precise click of her heels approaching across his marble floor had his naked body tensing in anticipation. And he wondered what she’d do first. Touch him? Kiss him?

  She walked behind him, the scent of her light perfume teasing him. He ached to reach out and tug her into his arms, dip his head into her mass of hair and inhale a lungful of her heady fragrance. But sensing she wished him to remain compliant, Quinn stayed still.

  For now.

  Dear Reader,

  Every woman has probably fantasized about a man who was unattainable, a man she didn’t dare go after. Most of us never get beyond the fantasy stage. But as a writer, I get to live vicariously through my characters and make those fantasies a reality.

  Maggie Miller is a woman who dares to risk everything for love—at least, one night of it. And to entice practical Maggie to do the unthinkable, I had to summon an irresistible man, a man with the creative genius of movie mogul Quinn Scott. A charming, powerful, wealthy man with one wish—for a woman to want him for himself, alone.

  I love the title of this story. Bordering on Obsession manages to capture the blinding need felt by Maggie and Quinn, characters who dream big and pit themselves against tremendous odds. If you enjoy this book, please watch for Kimberly’s story, A Burning Obsession, available next June.

  Happy reading,

  Susan Kearney

  Books by Susan Kearney

  HARLEQUIN BLAZE

  25—ENSLAVED

  50—DOUBLE THE THRILL

  HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

  682—ROYAL TARGET

  686—ROYAL RANSOM

  690—ROYAL PURSUIT

  705—DADDY TO THE RESCUE

  709—DEFENDING THE HEIRESS

  713—SAVING THE GIRL NEXT DOOR

  BORDERING ON OBSESSION

  Susan Kearney

  To Brenda Chin.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  1

  “‘YOU’RE OBSESSED WITH ME,’” he said, looking up from the script in his hand.

  Yes, I am. More than you know.

  But Maggie Miller suppressed the thought, and instead dutifully recited her line. “‘And you can read my mind.’” She kept her eyes lowered to the bound pages on her desk so that her boss, legendary movie writer-director-producer Quinn Scott, wouldn’t read more in her expression than she wanted him to see.

  Like the fact that she found Quinn’s mouth more tempting than a hot fudge sundae with whipped cream and a lush cherry on top. Like the fact that her heart battered her ribs like a sledgehammer. Or that if she hadn’t been sitting behind her desk, her legs might not have supported her.

  It was all Quinn’s fault for providing a show she couldn’t ignore. In his excitement over the script, he may have forgotten he’d been on the way to his shower, but she hadn’t. His sweatpants hung low on his hips and, bare from the waist up, his shoulders and chest glistened with moisture. His angular frame made her mouth water as he strode into the office after his daily workout. A script in his hand, a white towel around his neck and yards of bronzed skin beckoning, he could have been half Greek statue and half movie star.

  Totally yummy. And off-limits. Maggie Miller wasn’t some newbie secretary enamored by just any man. Oh, no. She’d been working herself up into a lusty lather over her oh-so-handsome, oh-so-sexy boss for a good four years now. Playing the good administrative assistant, she’d tried to keep her tongue from hanging out of her mouth, but, damn it, when Quinn asked her to read hot lines from his latest script, the fantasy seemed too real.

  It was bad enough that Maggie dreamed of him all night and woke up with thoughts of him every morning, but reading love lines back to him bordered on insanity. Especially when Quinn didn’t have the slightest idea of Maggie’s feelings.

  Unfortunately for her, Quinn regularly dated voluptuous blondes, international beauty queens and Hollywood’s leading ladies—not the efficient secretary he’d inherited from the man he’d replaced.

  Maggie drummed her fingers on her desk. Quinn would never suspect her feelings because he never even really looked at her. How could he when she hid the real Maggie behind her businesslike clothes? To keep her position as Quinn’s oh-so-capable assistant, Maggie had buried her real self. Well, she was done watching Quinn go from one lucky woman to another.

  Quinn’s cell phone rang before he could read his next line. He checked caller ID, and tossed his script onto Maggie’s desk. “We’ll finish reading the scene later. I need to take this call.” Then he disappeared into his office.

  Maggie stacked the scripts on top of a towering pile and sighed. Doing something, anything, to get over her uncontrollable preoccupation with the man had become not only necessary, but absolutely imperative. However, since her goal of becoming a casting agent might very well depend on Quinn’s goodwill, she didn’t want to risk their working relationship by making a move in his direction.

  And after this morning’s phone call, Maggie had the chance to lure her boss into bed. Maggie had answered the phone to hear Laine Lamonde’s harried agent explain, “Laine’s jet had engine trouble. She’s landed safely in London, but I’m afraid she won’t cross the Atlantic in time for her date with Mr. Scott.”

  Of course the French film star wouldn’t be caught dead traveling on a commercial airline. And since Laine was stuck in London, Maggie had the opportunity to take the actress’s place—if she dared to seize the moment.

  Maggie wanted much more than to arrange Quinn’s day—now she intended to rearrange his night. She wanted her turn. Just one luscious night. A wild fling.

  This time, instead of some vapid starlet, Quinn was going to escort the woman he depended on to keep his extraordinary life in perfect working order. If Maggie’s plan succeeded, and her plans usually did, Quinn would never know his secretary had taken Laine’s place for the evening’s masquerade party. She would get her night of passion—and without risking the loss of her job, her future as a casting agent, or the friendly rapport she shared with her brilliant boss. With Laine’s cancellation, Maggie had a doozy of an opportunity. And she intended to make the most of it.

  “Knock. Knock.”

  Maggie looked up from her desk to see Kimberly Hayward, Quinn’s protégé and Maggie’s friend walking into her office, carrying spools of film under her right arm and the dress that she had picked up from Laine’s hotel room in her left. Acting like a thief afraid of being caught, instead of Quinn’s favorite production assistant, Kimberly glanced right, left, and back over her shoulder. She even checked Quinn’s closed office door, before holding up the dress and whispering, “What do you think?”

  Maggie had no trouble imagining herself dressed in the cerulean satin strapless gown with bead-encrusted bodice, and despite the butterflies swarming in her stomach, she grinned. “It’s perfect.”

  Kimberly reached into her pocket and handed her an envelope with a receipt attached. “The concierge signed for these babies then sent them up to Laine’s hotel roo
m.”

  With her hand only trembling slightly, Maggie opened the envelope. A sapphire-and-diamond necklace with matching dangling earrings poured into her hand. “Nice.”

  “If you’re still going through with your plan—”

  “Of course I am.” The image of wearing that dress for Quinn excited her almost as much as the idea of taking it off for him. She’d never been an exhibitionist, but now…her lust for Quinn was causing her nipples to harden and stand out enough that she wrapped a sweater around her shoulders and let the sleeves dangle down to conceal her arousal.

  “You’ll need this, too.” From her leather bag that hung from a thin shoulder strap, Kimberly pulled out a mask that matched the gown and that would cover the wearer’s face from eyebrow to upper lip.

  A thrill of anticipation chased away most of Maggie’s lingering doubts. Never mind that Quinn had never noticed her body. Never mind that in the last four years he’d never once so much as flirted with her. With the mask and the dress to hide Maggie’s identity, she could be her real self. Slightly breathless at the boldness of her plan, Maggie stroked the blue feathers along the edges. “Thanks. I couldn’t pull off my little deception without your help.”

  Kimberly had even taken the gown to wardrobe for a refit, and she’d requested a studio limo to take Maggie to her hairdresser and makeup artist before dropping her off at the hotel, where, disguised as Laine Lamonde, she would meet Quinn.

  Kimberly set down the film and carefully hid the dress in a white garment bag, then hooked the hanger over the file cabinet handle. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

  Maggie had a major case of the hots for her boss and she was tired of trying to ignore it. Such a silly infatuation had never happened to her before. She had no idea what the hell was wrong with her, but backing down was out of the question.

  She was fed up with sharing a bed with her cats. Tired of putting her personal life on hold for the sake of her career. Tonight opportunity beckoned. She had a chance to lure Quinn into bed.

  But the slightest gesture or intonation could give her away and, despite her determination, she hesitated. “What if Quinn figures out who I am?”

  “He won’t. Don’t worry. You’ll have fun,” Kimberly urged her on.

  Easy for Kimberly to say. She wasn’t the one taking the risk. Maggie was. Yet at age thirty-two, Maggie needed a change from leading her smart, sensible life, ruled by clothes that deemphasized her curves and a take-charge attitude that scared away most men. While she was hardly the mousy librarian type, she wasn’t the kind of woman who swished into a morning meeting with Jennifer Aniston hair wearing a tight sweater and swinging a Prada handbag from a diamond-Rolexed wrist, either. In other words, she was a professional assistant valued for her efficiency and brains. Quinn would never consider her as a ready and available woman—not unless Maggie took drastic action.

  Since she didn’t do casual, no other man could be a substitute lover. No one else captivated her like Quinn could, but he didn’t do serious. In the beginning, she hadn’t even liked him—well not much. Of course, she loved his face—that was a given—and nobody wore a suit like Quinn. And while she admired the way he wheeled and dealed his way through Hollywood’s A-list, she wanted some of his famous attention on her.

  She sighed in frustration at her dilemma.

  Trouble was, Maggie didn’t want to transform her entire life. Going after Quinn as Maggie would put her beloved career in jeopardy as well as her future plan to open her own casting agency. But as Laine? No risk—except one of discovery, which she had covered.

  Kimberly hitched her hip onto the corner of Maggie’s desk. She was even more ambitious than Maggie. Kimberly wrote screenplays and wanted to direct and produce. Like Maggie, she’d been off men for a while, putting her career first and, while Maggie valued her advice, she knew all too well that Kimberly was living vicariously through her.

  “What’s the worst thing that could happen?” Kimberly prodded.

  “If Quinn finds out what I’m doing, I could lose my job.”

  “You want to open your own casting agency anyway.” Kimberly grinned. “Besides, he’ll never suspect that his capable and practical secretary can show him such a good time.”

  Maggie tossed back her bangs and lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t yet have the funds to open my own agency.” Twice Maggie had been close to saving enough cash to start her own business. But then her sister Ronnie had had a difficult third pregnancy and been forced to stay in bed in the hospital. Maggie had flown home to Michigan and taken care of her niece and nephew so Ronnie’s husband could work days and spend evenings with her sister. Although Maggie had lived for free at her sister’s house and enjoyed the time with her family and niece and nephew, she’d still had to cover her apartment lease, car payment and insurance in California which had taken a drastic bite out of her savings. After she’d returned to work, she’d built up her bank account slowly, but then last year her mother had taken a terrible loss in the stock market, and Maggie had used her savings to help out her folks. As a result, she was no closer to starting her own casting agency now than when she’d come out to California after finishing business school ten years ago. So if Quinn found her out, he might not only fire her, but he was powerful enough to blackball the casting agency she dreamed of someday opening. Carrying through on her scheme would risk not just a steady paycheck but her future.

  Maggie sighed, furious with herself for even hesitating. “Quinn isn’t stupid. He picks those types of women for a reason, don’t you think?”

  “You aren’t worrying that you aren’t a glamour girl again, are you? I mean, I’m glad you’re not. I’d have to hate you if you were.”

  With Quinn’s films having won five Oscars including Best Picture, the famous writer-director-producer could have any woman he wanted. Competition for his attention was fierce. Aspiring actresses regularly accosted Quinn on the tennis court and during power lunches. Last week, Maggie had had to evict from his office a Playboy centerfold, wearing five-inch stiletto heels and nothing else.

  “You can do glamour,” Kimberly egged her on. “It’s another side of you that every woman has.”

  Kimberly sounded so positive. Maggie wished she could be just as positive. “You’re sure?”

  “You just need the right man to let out your wild side.”

  “I suppose you’re talking from personal experience here?” Maggie muttered. It was all fine and good for Kimberly to encourage her, but Kimberly wouldn’t be the one taking the risk—or the one reaping the reward, she reminded herself. Finally she had the chance to touch Quinn’s heat, to taste his mouth, to know what it felt like to have all that power inside her.

  Kimberly blushed. “Hell, I haven’t seen that side of myself, either, but I know that deep down under our practical natures are bombshells just waiting to emerge. And unlike you, who has found the right guy, I’m just waiting for a man to inspire that part of me.”

  “Quinn’s not Mr. Right. He’s Mr. Right Now.” At thirty-two years of age Maggie ought to have better control over her hormones. She was way beyond the age of a teenage crush. Yet, here she was considering a scheme as risky as any that Quinn had ever dared and she only prayed her plans would turn out as well as his always did.

  “How can you be so sure he’s not Mr. Right?” Kimberly asked.

  “I want to make sweaty, sensuous love to him, but my heart couldn’t take more.”

  “Huh?”

  “He’s not the kind of man to commit to one woman.”

  “Maybe it’s your issue.”

  “Come on. You work with him every day. The guy goes through women like other men go through socks. A lady for every day of the week. Besides, I’ve been here under his nose for four years and he’s never noticed me. If he only does so when I take off my clothes, that means it’s lust and only lust—which is just fine for one night.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m not sure he’s capable of falling in lov
e. However, right now I’ll settle for one fantastic dream night, so I can move on to the right kind of guy.” Maggie frowned at Quinn’s closed door, then narrowed her eyes in speculation at Kimberly. “And I’m not trying to be just any blond bombshell. I’ll be impersonating Laine Lamonde.”

  “You took six years of French. You do the accent well. And your features are even similar. That’s why you can’t let another chance go by.”

  “Maybe so. But my hair’s a dead giveaway. Hers is a lighter shade of blond and long.”

  “You can add hair extensions, along with highlights this afternoon.” Kimberly used her own kind of logic, encouraging Maggie to go after Quinn. Kimberly might not have oodles of experience in the men department but she understood Maggie needed one night with Quinn to get over this obsession. And Maggie in turn helped Kimberly with her career, not that she could do much besides periodically remind Quinn that he had her friend’s screenplay on his desk and had yet to read it.

  “I’ll look different with the long hair and the dress,” Maggie admitted. “But if anyone knows when a woman is acting, it’ll be Quinn.”

  “He won’t be thinking clearly after you stir up his hormones.”

  Kimberly’s imagination spurred Maggie to chuckle at the thought of leading Quinn on, teasing him, seducing him. While she wouldn’t normally catch the eye of the ruggedly gorgeous, arrogant-as-hell Quinn, she would look just about perfect in that designer gown. Not far behind her intellect was her next best asset: her body. She worked out regularly, alternating between kickboxing and yoga, and the mask would hide her pretty, but not out-of-this-world-gorgeous face.

  Between the dress, the limo and the jewelry, she just might convince him that she had star quality. Even a man who had been characterized by Time as a sensitive and creative genius could be fooled by the right woman with the right incentive.