Dream Man (Executive Women in Love Book 1) by Celia T. Rose Page A

was trying to get Melania jealous with the unexpected hand-kissing.
    Melania stomped her foot. “Come on. I’d like to get this over with, and, besides, I’m starved.”
    Felicity ignored the brat and asked Max, “So, do we need to run through the scenario?”
    “I don’t think so. It should be a cinch. Melania here will lead the way.” He put his arm around her. “She’ll show me how upset she is because she has such a difficult schedule. I’ll commiserate and offer to take her out for a night on the town.” He curled her chin up toward him.
    An unexpected pang of envy hit Felicity. Such a tease.
    “Okay then, let’s get the show on the road. We’ll have the crew set up at the restaurant. There’s a car waiting outside to take you.”
    “That won’t be necessary. I’ll be driving. Care to join us?” Max asked.
    “No, I—I have a few more things to tidy up. We’ll see you there.” Felicity wanted them gone so she could get her mind straight.
    Why ever did she suggest this shoot? She was more confused about Max and the status of his relationship with Melania than ever.
    Felicity had chosen The Crossroads for the shoot because it wasn’t normally crowded during lunchtime. It was known for its romantic ambiance and a favorite dinner spot in Hollywood. However, with news of the shoot and Max’s appearance, there was a crowd assembled outside and police control. Felicity pushed through the crowd, showed her studio ID, and gained entrance through the front door.
    She gazed at the exposed brick walls of the restaurant’s interior and the white oak hardwood floors. Rainbows of light shot across the room from the low hanging chandeliers as she made her way to the rear dining room.
    The reason she’d convinced Max to play in the scene was to get the fanfare and hopefully drive the show’s initial ratings through the roof. By the look of the crowd outside it appeared Felicity’s strategy with booking the scene with Melania and Max for the show had worked.
    And Maxwell Marx thought he needed to micro-manage ME!
    Felicity inspected her scene set-up and was pleased with the outcome. Max and Melania would dine at a table in the back with the proper lighting for evening hours. Several extras would sit at tables surrounding Melania and Max’s to give the appearance it was a busy weekend night.
    The camera crew was set and ready to roll. Felicity knew she’d only have this one chance with the shoot and there’d be no opportunity for a retake. Although reality TV relied on unscripted scenes, she’d influenced Melania and Max as much as she could to get the desired result. Now it was up to them.
    Whatever happened would stay on tape and other than editing for the usual expletives or inappropriate behavior, this would be it. In this scene, Melania and Max were playing who they really were. As to whether or not they were involved in real life, it was up to the viewers to decide. Felicity previously didn’t believe they had ever been involved. Although she now had her doubts.
    They began to roll.
    Melania entered the room on Max’s arm from a side entrance and allowed him to pull out her chair at their table. A server greeted the two, took their drink orders, returned with their drinks, and informed them of the dinner specials.
    “I’ll take the tuna,” Melania said.
    “I’ll have the steak, rare, please.” Max sipped his martini.
    “So how was Paris?” Melania asked while sipping her white wine.
    “I just returned from Sydney.”
    Melania downed the rest of her wine.
    Good, Felicity thought, a little alcohol always helps.
    “I happen to know you flew into Paris two days ago.”
    “It was for a layover. It’s not like I had time to enjoy it much.” Max seemed irritated with Melania.
    “Still, you could have flown me there. We could have spent some time together in the city of lights. I’ve never seen the Eifel Tower or cruised on the Seine. A poor Costa Rican girl like me could only dream of seeing