Mind Over Matter

it, David simply let it happen.
    And how did he feel about her? That was something else he wasn’t quite sure of. Desire. He desired her more, even more now after he’d saturated himself with her. Friendship. In some odd, cautious way he felt they were almost as much friends as they were lovers. Understanding. It was more difficult to be as definite about that. A.J. had an uncanny ability to throw up mirrors that reflected back your own thoughts rather than hers. Still, he had come to understand that beneath the confidence and drive was a warm, vulnerable woman.
    She was passionate. She was reserved. She was competent. She was fragile. And she was, David had discovered, a tantalizing mystery to be solved, one layer at a time.
    Perhaps that was why he’d found himself so caught up in her. Most of the women he knew were precisely what they seemed. Sophisticated. Ambitious. Well-bred. His own tastehad invariably drawn him to a certain type of woman. A.J. fit. Aurora didn’t. If he understood anything about her, he understood she was both.
    As an agent, he knew, she was pleased with the deal she’d made for her client, including the Van Camp segment. As a daughter, he sensed, she was uneasy about the repercussions.
    But the deal had been made, David reminded himself as he walked up the wide circular steps to the Van Camp estate. As a producer, he was satisfied with the progress of his project. But as a man, he wished he knew of a way to put A.J.’s mind at rest. She excited him; she intrigued him. And as no woman had ever done before, she concerned him. He’d wondered, more often than once, if that peculiar combination equaled love. And if it did, what in hell he was going to do about it.
    “Second thoughts?” Alex asked as David hesitated at the door.
    Annoyed with himself, David shrugged his shoulders, then pushed the bell. “Should there be?”
    “Clarissa’s comfortable with this.”
    David found himself shifting restlessly. “That’s enough for you?”
    “It’s enough,” Alex answered. “Clarissa knows her own mind.”
    The phrasing had him frowning, had him searching. “Alex—”
    Though he wasn’t certain what he had been about to say, the door opened and the moment was lost. A formally dressed, French-accented maid took their names before leading them into a room off the main hall. The crew, not easily impressed, spoke in murmurs.
    It was unapologetically Hollywood. The furnishings were big and bold, the colors flashy. On a baby grand in the center of the room was a silver candelabra dripping with crystal prisms. David recognized it as a prop from Music at Midnight .
    “Not one for understatement,” Alex commented.
    “No.” David took another sweep of the room. There were brocades and silks in jewel colors. Furniture gleamed like mirrors. “But Alice Van Camp might be one of the few in the business who deserves to bang her own drum.”
    “Thank you.”
    Regal, amused and as stunning as she had been in her screen debut, Alice Van Camp paused in the doorway. She was a woman who knew how to pose, and who did so without a second thought. Like others who had known her only through her movies, David’s first thought was how small she was. Then she stepped forward and her presence alone whisked the image away.
    “Mr. Marshall.” Hand extended, Alice walked to him. Her hair was a deep sable spiked around a face as pale and smooth as a child’s. If he hadn’t known better, David would have said she’d yet to see thirty. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m a great admirer of journalists—when they don’t misquote me.”
    “Mrs. Van Camp.” He covered her small hand with both of his. “Shall I say the obvious?”
    “That depends.”
    “You’re just as beautiful face-to-face as you are on the screen.”
    She laughed, the smoky, sultry murmur that had made men itch for more than two decades. “I appreciate the obvious. And you’re David Brady.” Her gaze shifted to him and he felt the unapologetic summing up, strictly woman to man. “I’ve seen several of your productions. My husband prefers documentaries and biographies to films. I can’t think why he married me.”
    “I can.” David accepted her hand. “I’m an avid fan.”
    “As long as you don’t tell me you’ve enjoyed my movies since you were a child.” Amusement glimmered in her eyes again before she glanced around. “Now if you’ll introduce me to our crew, we can get started.”
    David had admired her for