Triple Threat Read Online Free

unconsciously erotic gesture.
    This play already had two strikes against it as far as Nick was concerned. He hadn’t been onstage in years, and he had dyslexia. He’d need to be completely focused to pull it off. No distractions. And Holly had distraction written all over her—untouchable, unattainable distraction.
    He eyed Garrett sitting next to him. There was no way around it. His agent would have to learn to live with the disappointment.
    “Nick.” Ethan took a seat across the table. “I understand you and Holly go way back.” Ethan winced and frowned at Holly in the chair to his left. She returned his grimace with a smirk, and Nick was pretty sure she’d just kicked the director under the table. What exactly was their relationship, anyway?
    “Yes. We grew up together in Stockton, Connecticut.” The big dumb jock and the cute little honors student. “Just outside New Haven.”
    “Well,” Ted said. “That makes this even better.” He paused and looked around the table for dramatic effect. “Let’s start with act one, scene two, the argument at the dinner table.”
    Holly’s face reddened and she ducked her head, frantically turning the pages of her script. “Of course.”
    Fuck. Getting out of this was going to be harder than he thought.
    “Actually, Ted, I—”
    “Nick,” Garrett interrupted, glaring at him, “would be happy to—”
    “What I’m trying to say,” Nick said, glaring right back, “is that I’m sorry I wasted your time, but I don’t think this project’s right for me.” He stood, leaving his script on the table, and risked one last glance at Holly. Damn, she looked fine. Good enough to eat, starting with those lush lips and working his way down, inch by glorious inch. “It was nice seeing you, Holly. Good luck with...everything.”
    He strode to the door, barely registering Garrett’s song and dance of apologies in the wake of his startling announcement. The guy was a hustler, he’d give him that. But no amount of hustling was going to change Nick’s mind. He’d just have to find another way to redefine his career and impress Spielberg. One that didn’t involve the very diverting—and very married—Holly Nelson Ryan.
    * * *
    “ N O, NO, A THOUSAND times no!” Holly paced the length of the conference room, now empty except for her and Ethan.
    He leaned forward in his chair, elbows on the table, hands steepled under his chin. “You heard Ted and Judith. No Nick, no show. They’ve got a group of private investors lined up, but before they cough up any dough they want to see Nick signed on the dotted line.”
    “Why Nick?” Holly whined, still pacing. “Can’t we just get another star?”
    Ethan lifted a shoulder. “Guess my sales pitch was a little too convincing.”
    “Then why me?” She couldn’t do what they were asking. It was too risky. “Why can’t you persuade him? You brought him here. Or Ted? Or Judith?”
    Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Because Nick wasn’t looking at me or Ted or Judith like he wanted to throw us onto the conference table and go all caveman.”
    That stopped Holly in her tracks. “You are majorly delusional. He barely glanced my way.”
    She, on the other hand, hadn’t been able to take her eyes off him from the moment she’d walked in the door. His presence had seemed to take up the whole room. She’d seen one or two of his movies. Okay, she’d seen them all multiple times, and owned the DVDs. But that hadn’t even remotely prepared her for Nick Damone, live, in person and sexy as sin.
    He had those mocha eyes, as dark and smoky as she remembered but even more intense, more penetrating. When she was able to break free from their strange, hypnotic spell, her addled brain registered a scraggly beard and moustache, probably grown for his last picture. Sprinkled with silver, they highlighted his strong jaw, making him appear, if possible, even more masculine. One lock of hair had flopped temptingly across his brow, and she’d