The Hudsons: Max, Bella and Devlin. Maureen ChildЧитать онлайн книгу.

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      MILLS & BOON

       Before you start reading, why not sign up?

      Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

       SIGN ME UP!

      Or simply visit

      signup.millsandboon.co.uk

      Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

      About the Author

      Bestselling Desire^™ author and RITA^® Award finalist EMILIE ROSE lives in her native North Carolina with her four sons and two adopted mutts. Writing is her third (and hopefully her last) career. She’s managed a medical office and run a home day care, neither of which offers half as much satisfaction as plotting happy endings. Her hobbies include gardening and cooking (especially cheesecake). She’s a rabid country music fan because she can find an entire book in almost any song. She is currently working her way through her own “bucket list” which includes learning to ride a Harley. Visit her website at www.emilierose.com or e-mail EmilieRoseC@aol. com. Letters can be mailed to PO Box 20145, Raleigh, NC 27619, USA.

      To LaShawn, a woman who truly embodies the phrase

      “dance like nobody’s watching.” You go girl!

      One

      “What is this?”

      Dana Fallon flinched at the irritation and impatience in Max Hudson’s voice. She couldn’t blame him. Hudson Pictures was up against an immovable deadline in shooting their current project, and her leaving now wasn’t the nicest thing she could do to them.

      But she had her reasons. Good ones.

      Stand by your decision. Execute your plan. Her big brother’s booming “coach” voice echoed in her head even though he was on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean.

      She reined in her retreating courage, brushed the dark curtain of overgrown bangs out of her lashes and tucked the ends behind her ear. Her gaze bounced off the disbelief in Max’s vivid blue eyes and focused instead on the V of tanned, muscled chest revealed by the three unfastened buttons of his white Joseph Abboud shirt. Dangerous territory.

      “It’s my resignation. I’m quitting, Max. You’ll need to advertise for my replacement as soon as we return to the States. I’ve already drafted the ad for your approval.”

      “You can’t quit.” He wadded the paper one-handed and pitched it toward the trash can in the corner of the hotel suite he’d been using as a temporary office for the past several months. He missed. In the five years she’d worked for him, Dana didn’t think he’d ever managed to hit a wastebasket with a paper ball regardless of which continent they were on. Max might be a creatively brilliant producer and film editor, but despite his killer body he had no athletic talents of the team sports variety.

      She loved him anyway, and didn’t that make her an idiot since her attachment was completely one-sided and unlikely to ever be returned? It was time she admitted Max would love his deceased wife until he joined her in the grave and move on.

      He went back to shuffling papers as if his pronouncement settled everything, and she was tempted to scuffle back to her hotel room with her metaphorical tail between her legs. But she couldn’t. Not this time.

      When a job offer from a friend had coincided with the anniversary of her brother’s accident, Dana had realized she was no closer to attaining her goals today than she’d been when she’d taken this job. Her brother had never quit pursuing his dream despite setbacks and staggering odds, and she owed it to him to find the same courage.

      That morning she’d promised herself that as soon as she left France behind and returned to California with the rest of Hudson Pictures’ cast and crew she’d seize control of her life and go after the career and family she wanted.

      “I have to go, Max. I want to produce my own films, and you’re never going to let me do that here at Hudson. Like my letter says, I have an opportunity with an indie film company—”

      “You misunderstood me. You can’t quit—not to work for another filmmaker.” His inflexible tone warned her not to argue.

      She’d known this wouldn’t be easy. That was the main reason it had taken her weeks—until the day before her departure from France—to work up the courage for this conversation. “I’m not asking your opinion.”

      “Because you already know what I’ll say. It’s a stupid decision and a step backward to leave a major player like Hudson to go to a fly-by-night independent studio. That aside, read your contract. You’re forbidden to work for another film company for two years after you leave us.”

      Surprise snapped her shoulders back. She didn’t remember signing a noncompete clause, but she’d been so thrilled to be offered a position at Hudson that she hadn’t read the contract as carefully as she should have. The document in question was in her file cabinet at home. She couldn’t verify or disprove his words. “Two years?”

      “Yes. It’s a standard clause in Hudson contracts. It keeps people from taking proprietary information with them when they go.”

      He stabbed his fingers through his short dark hair and moved a pile of papers on his desk as if he were looking for something and was irritated at not being able to find it. She fought the urge to spring forward and locate the missing item for him the way she always had in the past.

      Helping him and taking care of him wasn’t just her job, it had become something of an addiction—one she needed to kick.

      “The timing of your tantrum sucks,” he added without looking up.

      She gasped and tried to put a lid on her anger. Hasty words and emotional outbursts never solved anything, and it wasn’t like him to be rude. But then he wasn’t often under this much pressure. The film had to be wrapped and ready before his grandmother Lillian Hudson died from the cancer consuming her body. They were getting close to completion since they’d already begun the postproduction phase, but the clock was ticking. Time was short and Lillian’s remaining days were limited. Everyone involved was working around the clock and tense enough to crack.

      Still, anger flushed any lingering reservations Dana might have had about hurting Max’s feelings from her system. When she’d taken this job five years ago she’d intended only to get her foot in the door, gain a little experience and then move onward and upward in a year or two. She was overqualified to be the executive assistant to a producer and film editor—even one as acclaimed as Max Hudson. She had credentials—even if they were of the East Coast variety instead of the West Coast.

      She’d always dreamed of producing her own films. But then Max had turned out to be an amazing boss. She’d found herself learning more from him than her years at