Her Red-Carpet Romance Read Online Free

probationary basis,” he informed her. “Which means that I can let you go for any reason if I’m not satisfied.”
    â€œUnderstood.”
    He peered at her face. “Is that acceptable to you?”
    â€œVery much so, s-si—” She was about to address him as “sir” but stopped herself, uttering, instead, a hissing sound. “Lukkas,” she injected at the last moment.
    â€œI’m currently producing a Western. We’re going to be going on location—Arizona. Tombstone area,” he specified. “Do you have any problem with that?”
    She wanted to ask him why he thought she would, but this wasn’t the time for those kinds of questions. They could wait until after she had entrenched herself into his life. The fact that she would do just that was a given as far as she was concerned now that he had hired her.
    â€œNone whatsoever,” she told him.
    â€œAll right. Then go home and get a good night’s sleep. I need you back here tomorrow morning at seven.”
    â€œSeven it is. I’ll be bright eyed and bushy tailed,” she responded, thinking of a phrase her grandfather used to use.
    â€œI’ll settle for your eyes being open,” he told her. “See you tomorrow, Hanna.”
    Yohanna opened her mouth to correct him and then decided she rather liked the fact that her new boss was calling her by a nickname, even if she didn’t care all that much for it. She took it as a sign they were on their way to forming a good working relationship.
    After all, if someone didn’t care for someone else, they weren’t going to give them a nickname, right? At least, not one that could be viewed as cute. If anything, they’d use one that could be construed as insulting.
    â€œSee you tomorrow,” she echoed. “I’ll see myself out,” she told him.
    Lukkas didn’t hear her, his mind already moving on to another topic.
    Yohanna had to hold herself in check to keep from dancing all the way to the front door.
    Â 

Chapter Two
    T he landline Yohanna had gotten installed mainly to placate her mother—“What if there’s a storm that takes out the cell towers? How can anyone reach you then? How can
I
reach you then?”—was ringing when she let herself into her condo several hours later that day.
    Yohanna’s automatic reaction was to hurry over to the phone to answer it, but she stopped just short of lifting the receiver. The caller-ID program was malfunctioning, the screen only registering the words
incoming call
.
    Frowning, she stood next to the coffee table in the living room and debated ignoring the call. Granted, everyone she knew did have this number as well as her cell number, but for the most part, if they called her, it was almost always on her cell phone,
not
her landline.
That
was for sales people, robo calls and her mother.
    Which meant, by process of elimination, that the caller was probably her mother.
    Yohanna was really tempted to let her answering machine pick up. Talking to her mother was usually exhausting.
    But if she ignored this call, there would be others, most likely coming in at regular intervals until she finally picked up and answered. Her mother had absolutely unbelievable tenacity. She would continue calling, possibly well into the evening, at which time her mother would make the fifteen-mile trip and physically come over. Her hand would be splayed across her chest, as she would dramatically say something about her heart not being up to taking this sort of stress and worry.
    Yohanna resigned herself to the fact that she might as well answer her phone and get the inevitable over with.
    Taking a deep, bracing breath, she yanked the receiver from its cradle and placed it against her ear—praying for a wrong number.
    â€œHello?”
    â€œIt’s about time you answered. Where were you? Never mind,” Elizabeth Andrzejewski said dismissively. “I’m