Taming Hollywood’s Ultimate Playboy Read Online Free PDF

was probably a reason that the low, velvety voice analogous with seduction was the opposite of a shriek.
    A minute later, she double-checked the details she’d sent to Shopper Tom, as he was known to Liam’s phone. If he picked clothing she hated, she’d wear it the one time and then find someone at work who wanted the clothes. They were temporary, just like this assignment.
    The thought failed to comfort her, and she returned her attention to the window, thrusting the phone at him and settling back into her not-speaking routine. She couldn’t display her freak-out voice if she wasn’t talking.
    * * *
    In order to maintain security, and probably so Liam wouldn’t be seen traveling with a woman whose shirt announced her position as physical therapist, the limo had gone around to the rear, private entrance of the hotel, where his group had met them.
    Now, with him limping down the marble hallway in front of her—which no doubt led to the supremely classy yet neutral color-schemed heaven on the top floor—there was no room to doubt how bad an idea it was for him to be on the carpet tonight.
    His three assistants bustled along with him, informing him how they’d set up the interviews. More walking, him making rounds to meet with reporters in different areas of the suite...
    â€œThat’s not going to work,” Grace cut in, and three sets of eyes turned to her. Liam’s didn’t, but his people had no idea she’d been complaining about him walking on it for at least ninety-seven percent of the time since she’d seen him. Mostly because it was a bad idea, and partly because she couldn’t complain about what she really wanted to complain about...
    â€œWhat would you like us to do?” Liam asked, stopping at a nondescript elevator and pressing the call button. Maybe he came this way all the time?
    â€œOne, you need to be off your feet as much as possible if you’re going to have any hope of getting through the red carpet tonight. Two, you said you don’t want this advertised. Which? You’re limping like you’ve just suffered a back-alley amputation and are walking on a bloody stump.”
    He smiled at her description and then nodded to his people. “She’s right. I don’t want to walk any more than I absolutely have to.”
    Despite the smile he’d put on, there was a white ring around his mouth and his forehead glistened, though it was far from hot outside. Concealed pain. Ridiculous that he was so driven to conceal it.
    But at least he wasn’t arguing.
    Their elevator stopped again at the very top of the hotel. “A suite, I’m guessing?”
    â€œThe whole floor.” Liam nodded.
    Naturally.
    â€œOkay.” The door opened to a tiny room with an ornate fancy door. One of the assistants handled the lock.
    â€œHere.” She thrust the rather large bag of medical supplies to the closest assistant, a pretty, petite thing who made Grace feel the antithesis of her name, and didn’t pause to see if she could bear the weight.
    â€œI’m helping you, Liam,” Grace said, in what she hoped was a tone that brooked no argument. Even if she had to come back for the bag, she wouldn’t have the thing smacking into him and upsetting his already precarious balance. A second later and she had his arm over her shoulders and her own around his waist, “If you have the whole floor, no one is going to see me helping.”
    A nod and he leaned, letting her take some of his weight, confirming how much his leg was hurting. As they made it into the suite, she began issuing instructions.
    â€œWe’re going to need crushed ice, and find one of the rooms to set up and have the press people come here instead. We need a table, a chair, long tablecloth...and a footstool that can be hidden behind the fabric.”
    â€œTwo chairs,” the man at her left said, probably taking notes the way he rattled off her