Chapter Three

There are some mornings when you just really shouldn't have to wake up. Today is one of them. My eyes are so heavy I can barely manage to pry them open, I feel vaguely nauseous, and my breasts are so tender that I wince when I roll over.

The latter I blame on Ryan, who's already out of bed and probably halfway to his office at Stark Security right now. And the man calls me a workaholic.

As for the exhaustion, I have no one to blame but myself. Not only did Ryan and I have a nice little indoor epilogue to our earlier outdoor sex-capades, but once he'd gone out like a light, I'd moved into the living room to read the Dead Certain script and production notes one more time.

I swear, if I'd done this much work in high school, my grades would have looked like Nikki's.

Preparation wasn't my only reason, though. Insomnia played a significant role, too. And since I couldn't sleep, I figured I might as well work. And snack, because I definitely had a case of the munchies.

I was paying for it now, though. The bone-deep exhaustion coupled with the bloating that had to be the result of way too much cheese and crackers last night as I was reading the script.

Basically, I'm a mess. And I need to get myself cleaned up pronto since Carson sent me a text last night letting me know that they'd finally settled on the actor to replace our former leading man who'd been injured on the set of his last movie, and is still in rehab. He's a great guy, and we had terrific chemistry, but there was no way to postpone the shoot for about a million reasons, not the least of which was that the international locations were already locked in, and a movie with a budget this big can't really turn on a dime.

Carson had told me not to worry, and while I tried to be chill, it wasn't easy. This is a real two-hander, with both the main characters driving the plot like in Lethal Weapon. Only this is a romance, not a bromance. And it centers around a kidnapping, not drugs. Plus, the love scenes are seriously hot and to make that work, there has to be chemistry.

So, yeah, I worried even while I told myself I trusted him. Carson had an eye for talent. Wasn't I proof of that?

I grin at my own wit as I force up the zipper on my skirt, silently chastising myself for the damn cheese. Not only is my stomach doing flip-flops, but I'm bloated as hell.

So much for meeting my mysterious new co-star at my absolute best.

Mysterious…

I'm still running potential actors through my mind when I pull onto the lot. Matthew Holt's Hardline Entertainment is producing the movie, and they have a first-look deal with the studio. I try to think of which actors made their name in one of the studio's pictures, and who might jump at the chance to pop into a sweet, last-minute deal. But while I can come up with several, none seem to be right for Buddy Cane, codename Breaker.

I show my pass at the gate, then navigate the Ferrari that has been my baby since Damien and Nikki gave her to me. And, frankly, she's a whole lot easier to parent than a child of the human variety. I park in front of the production offices next to a deep-blue Audi convertible that seems vaguely familiar. But this is a town full of convertibles. I head inside, then veer to the lobby-level coffee stand and order a large latte and a muffin.

I'm munching on the muffin and waiting for the barista to make the latte when I hear my name. I recognize the throaty voice immediately, and turn to see my agent, Evelyn Dodge.

"Hey," I say, delighted to see her. "What are you doing here? Shilling for some other client?"

She puts an arm around me, pulling me into a sideways hug. Nikki once described her to me as a brassy broad, and that's about dead-on perfect. She's stunning, but people would be more inclined to call her handsome than beautiful. She's a hell of a tough negotiator, knows the business backwards and forwards, and is willing to put up with me. Which makes her just about perfect.

"Another client?" she repeated, then waves the words away. "Don't you know you're my only priority?"

"You are good," I say, and we share a laugh. I grab my latte, then walk with her to the elevator.

"I thought I'd join you at the meeting."

I cock my head. There is absolutely zero reason for my agent to be at a pre-production meeting.

"I know, I know," she says as if reading my mind. "But we both know what's riding on this for you. I would have preferred a character piece—let you show some serious acting chops to balance out the action of Intercontinental, but with a budget over two-hundred mil, this picture can launch you into the stratosphere, too."

"Uh-huh." I start to take a sip of my latte, then change my mind. "Does this smell off to you?"

She sniffs it, then shakes her head.

"Want it? I guess I'm not in the mood." I grimace. "I felt crappy this morning. I think I'm catching a cold."

"We'll pump you full of vitamins," she says as she takes the cup. "Rehearsals are starting soon."

"Don't worry. I'll be the picture of health. And don't change the subject." The elevator doors open on the twelfth floor, and we step out. She starts down the hall, but I call her back, then shrug when she lifts a questioning brow.

"I just want to hear the rest of it."

"The rest of it?"

"We both agree this one can make my career, but it won't be made in this room today. So unless you just had nothing better to do, why are you here? Oh." I realize the answer as soon as I ask the question, kicking myself for not clueing in sooner. I can add brain fog to my list of maladies. "The new guy." My voice is barely a whisper. "Something's going on with the new guy. Shit."

Evelyn hurries to placate me. "Nothing's going on. At least nothing I know of."

Her voice is as low as mine, and I cock my head, giving her a disbelieving stare. She sighs, then leads me a few feet down the hall and into the ladies room. After checking under every stall—this town lives and breathes on gossip—she looks at me and sighs. "I've heard rumblings."

"What kind of rumblings?"

"Vague ones," she says, and I know I won't be getting any more info out of her. "It's my job to worry," she says, clearly in response to my expression. "And that's why I'm coming to today's meeting."

* * * *

"There's my star." Carson Donnelly holds his hand out to shake, then pulls me into a hug, which I happily return. "I miss working with you." He's tall and lean and as far as I'm concerned has the air of a big brother. Or, at least, my version of what I think a big brother would be like.

"I know. Me, too." Doing the celebrity interviews with him had not only been ridiculously fun, but it opened doors all over town for me, especially since some of my interviewees are now good friends.

"And Evelyn, so glad to see you again."

"Always a pleasure, Carson. And Matthew," she adds, as Matthew Holt enters from a side room. Holt is one of the most powerful producers in town, and with his broad shoulders, wide mouth, and hard, assessing eyes, he looks the part. And all the star-watchers claim that he has the magical ability to not only make hits, but to make stars.

Here's hoping that glow's still clinging to him.

"You look amazing as always," Matthew says, and although I'm pleased with the compliment, considering how crappy I feel today, I'm certain he doesn't mean it. Still, points for manners.

"I hope you coming along for the ride doesn't mean we're about to renegotiate her contract," he adds, turning from me to Evelyn.

"She's always worth more," Evelyn says. "But today I'm just watching."

The corner of his mouth twitches. "Losing your edge?"

She matches his grin. "Never. Agenting is ninety percent a full contact sport. Ten percent observation. Today, I'm out of uniform." She makes a V with her fingers and taps the tips under her eyes. "And I'm watching you both."

"No tricks," Matthew says, holding up his hands. "In fact, we've got a solid treat."

"Very solid," Carson adds. They glance at each other, both looking like they've swallowed the canary.

It could be a bluff. They both not only grew up in Hollywood, but thrived here. Which, of course, means that lying is pretty much second nature. The hard part is remembering what lies they told.

At the same time, I know them both. I've worked with them both. And I trust them both. If they say they have good news for me, then I believe them.

"Well, I'm guessing you're not upping my comp to fifty percent of the gross," I quip. "Evelyn would have been in on that negotiation, and there's no way she'd have been able to keep that secret."

"The lady knows me well."

I shoot her a quick smile. "I do. And I know these guys well, too. And they're about to explode with their good news. And since the only thing that would make me truly giddy is a box office magnet foaming at the mouth to play Breaker, then I'm going out on a limb and guessing that you boys caught yourselves a living, breathing movie star." I say the last with a country accent, doing my best to channel Ellie Mae Clampett.

Carson chuckles—he's the one who introduced me to The Beverly Hillbillies in the first place. The films he makes may be edgy and wild, but his favorite pastime is to curl up with his dog and watch old TV.

Considering my favorite pastime before getting married was getting drunk and fucking my way across Los Angeles, I figure I'm in no position to judge.

Carson and Matthew eye each other like two mischievous boys. I glance at Evelyn, who just shakes her head. They're both clearly—genuinely—excited, and why not let them have their fun building the suspense?

Then Matthew leans over and pushes the intercom button. "Send him in."

No sooner have the words left his mouth than the door clicks open, and I watch as Hollywood's hottest leading man walks across the threshold.

He's the first man I ever truly fell for.

The man who treated me like shit.

The asshole I hate most in the world.

The bastard who broke my heart.

Oh, god…

My stomach does a backflip, and I try to bolt for the door.

I don't make it.

And right there, twelve floors above a dozen Hollywood soundstages, I hurl the muffin I'd grabbed in the lobby all over Bryan Raine's trendy, hand-painted sneakers.