The woman who proudly introduced herself as Dr. Hoffman’s assistant, Shandi, with an “I” nodded curtly and moved along at a fast clip. Her sky-high heels knocking on the concrete floors matched the hurried cadence of my heart. I hadn’t felt rushed like this in months. I’d forgotten how everything in Hollywood moved at the speed of light. One had to be fast on his feet if he wanted to keep up.
“Makeup and wardrobe is in there.” Shandi pointed to a room with several chairs sitting in front of large mirrors with the bulbous lights that highlighted every wrinkle and blemish on one’s face. I did not look forward to sitting in that hot seat. When I glanced back, Shandi’s gaze seemed to slide over my skirt and blouse. “You’ll do as you are style-wise, though the hair needs some work. This isn’t wild women of the Amazon. We’ll have it pulled back, put into soft curls, something more elegant and professional.” She tapped her chin with a perfectly manicured, pale pink, fingertip. “The camera is going to love you. Almost as much as Drew will.” Her corresponding scowl was not well hidden as she turned and carried on.
We were led to a door that had “Drew Hoffman” in big white letters inscribed inside of a star. Shandi rapped on the door.
“Come in, Shandi,” said a voice smooth as honey.
“Ms. Saunders is here. You said you wanted to meet with her before she met with the writers?” Shandi’s entire personality changed right before my eyes. The frown was gone, replaced with a huge smile, her eyes no longer squinted in disdain. No, now they were open wide and sparkling. A lovely rose-colored hue swept across her cheeks as she spoke to the man I couldn’t see.
“Yes, yes, darling. Bring her in.”
Darling?
Shandi opened her arm wide and led me into the room. The man who greeted me was exactly what I expected. He was older than I, at least fifteen years my senior, but that did not detract from his looks. Black hair streaked with wisps of silver at the temples. Gray assessing eyes, seemed to appreciate what he saw before him. He was much broader than he appeared on television, though perhaps that was because he often wore body-hiding scrubs. Now, at six feet tall in a dress shirt that nipped in delectably at the waist and a pair of slacks that formed to every curve, I could see exactly why people swooned over the good doctor. He was hot. Plain and simple.
“Extraordinary.” He held out a hand. I placed my palm within it, and he set his other hand on top in a two-handed hold. Who did that anymore? The two-handed hold?
“You are far more beautiful in person than your pictures,” he gushed.
I tipped my head and took in his form. “You aren’t too bad yourself, Doc.” The compliment rolled off my tongue in a sultry tone. Dr. Drew Hoffman was smokin’ hot. Did I want to hop on him and ride him till morning? No, not even a little bit, but just because my heart and sex drive belonged to Wes, I wasn’t dead or unaffected by a damn fine specimen of the male variety.
He shook his head and kissed my hand. “It’s good to meet you, Ms. Saunders. I look forward to what you come up with for your segment. The media have really taken a liking to you, especially after the Latin Lov-ah’s video went viral. You are quite the sought after celebrity.”
I snorted in a most unladylike fashion. “Um, I believe you have your signals crossed. I’m not popular. I’ve dated a few popular men and starred in a video, but that’s the end of it.”
He clucked his tongue and let go of my hand, which was good because it was starting to feel creepy that he was holding on to it for so long. He walked over to a table and spread out several smut mags and a few newspaper clippings. “What say you about this then?”
I walked over to the table and took in the display before me. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. A dozen magazines with my image on the cover. One with Tony, another with Mason, my ad campaign showing the black-and-white shoot with model MiChelle back in Hawaii. There was even a spread of Alec and me at the art showing of Love on Canvas in Seattle. It looked as though in that series, the photographer paid very close attention to every little touch and overture Alec made toward me. There was even an image suggesting I was the new love interest of Anton Santiago and currently cheating on him with new beau, Weston Channing.
Fueled by frustration, I pushed the magazines back. “I don’t know what to say.”
Drew sat down on his couch and put his arms out wide, a casual pose if I’d ever seen one. This man was master of his domain, king of his castle, and nothing ruffled his feathers.
“There’s nothing to say. You’re the next It Girl, and I plan to capitalize on that.”
I shrugged and took a seat opposite him while Shandi made us drinks at the side table near the door. She set a cup of coffee in front of me that I hadn’t asked for, though I was grateful. Nothing rattled my nerves more than people assuming something about me that wasn’t true. Then again, a lot of it was true so it was mostly damage control now.