LITMIR.BIZ

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Anyhow, I thought maybe you and I could work together on this.”

      He chuckled drily. “Well, might is a long way from actual proof. I need something concrete to go on.”

      “What I meant was I know her personally.” She hesitated. “Maybe not as well as I thought, though.”

      Kat knew she wanted to be a reporter—this story would’ve been a huge boost to her career. Indignation rose in Jamie. She would’ve protected Kat, made sure she was treated respectfully. But instead, Kat had lied through her teeth the whole time she’d lived under her roof and eaten her food. She’d had every opportunity to ask for Jamie’s help. Well, now that window was closed.

      Charlie Durst watched her carefully, brown eyes steady. “Okay. Tell me what you know about this woman Riley Lee Jackson was with.”

      She smiled. “How about we talk about it over dinner tonight?”

      * * *

      IT WAS LATE afternoon on Monday when Riley drove through the electronic gate to his home in Modesto. The high white adobe walls surrounding the property suddenly reminded him of levees holding back a tide, though which side the danger came from, he couldn’t say.

      It’d been a long morning. His flight had been delayed due to mechanical errors. Then he’d had to force himself to smile and take pictures with fans at the airport arrivals area, where locals had gathered to welcome their megastar home.

      “Fans are your bread and butter,” Sam had reminded him. “They’ll watch anything you’re in now, no matter how bad. Treat them well, and they’ll treat you well.”

      He knew she was right, but he was dog tired after a week of parties, events, interviews and talk show appearances. He’d take off for his European tour in a couple of weeks, and after that he had the Pacific leg of promos to do. He’d been through it all before, of course, but not on this scale.

      He pulled his car around the driveway and parked next to his mother’s sedan and an unfamiliar-looking electric blue hatchback—probably the rental he’d arranged for Kat.

      He frowned as he examined the vehicle. He’d picked a fuel-efficient economy car not because he was cheap—he could buy several of these brand-new off the lot without making a dent in his bank account—but because he didn’t want Kat thinking he was an open wallet. Now that he saw the car, though, he regretted his choice. It looked like a dinky little toy. The baby couldn’t possibly be safe in that when there were Hummers and Escalades zooming all over the parkway.

      The baby. His baby. It hit him anew, a fresh blow that had him leaning heavily against the hatchback for support. As much time as he’d spent diverting people’s attention from the premiere’s events, he’d hardly contemplated this new life he was about to take charge of.

      If it was really his. Doubt still lingered. He didn’t know Kat, not really. But his gut told him there was no way the child could be anyone else’s.

      Wishful thinking? Maybe.

      The guesthouse door opened and he looked up. Seeing Kat standing there was like being smacked in the groin. Her vibrant pink T-shirt made the faded streak in her hair look even paler in comparison. Her eyes were the blue of the sky, huge and shimmering against her pale cheeks. Her tentative welcoming smile drew him forward, and he stopped himself when he realized he was moving toward her. “You’re home,” she said.

      Home. Was that what this place was? It felt as if it’d been forever since he’d slept in his own bed. Then again, he spent so little time here he’d barely worn a groove into the new mattress.

      He gestured distractedly at her rental, putting one hand on the hood to ground himself. “You need an upgrade.”

      Her eyebrows knitted together. “Why? This is fine.”

      “I thought they’d bring you something...safer.”

      “It’s really unnecessary—”

      “But I’d prefer it. For the baby’s safety.”

      She crossed her arms over her chest.

      Tell her you want to keep her safe, dummy. He didn’t. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat. “How’re you doing?”

      “You mean how’s Sweetpea?” She mirrored his motions with a wry look. He hadn’t realized he’d mimed the roundness of her belly, which seemed to have grown since he’d seen her last.

      He tucked his hands sheepishly into his pockets. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

      “I’m fine. The baby’s doing a bit of a dance right now.” She laid a hand over her stomach. “Guess he’s excited to see you.”

      Something stuck in Riley’s throat. “Can I...?” He reached out, but snapped his hand back. Just because they’d slept together didn’t mean she wanted him pawing at her. “I mean, I don’t need to, but—”

      “Of course you do. Here.” Gently, she guided his hand to the taut surface of her stomach.

      Something brushed and knocked against his palm. He drew back. “Whoa.” He stared at his hand, as if it might be marked. “That’s...that’s crazy. Does it hurt?”

      “Not really. Sometimes he’ll knee me in the bladder, though. Kick me in the spine. Not fun.”

      Riley stuffed his hands back into his pockets, but he already wanted to feel that weird sensation again. A life he’d helped create banging around the inside of this woman...

      “I’m going to take my stuff inside, say hi to my mom,” he said hastily. “Will you join us for dinner?”

      “Actually, I was thinking of staying in tonight. Kaylee’s been so obliging, cooking for the nonvegetarian, and I don’t want her to feel as if she has to. I can make do for myself.”

      “Oh.” He wanted to sit down with her, to talk to her...to face her and absorb her. And yet a part of him held back.

      “Why don’t you join me?” she invited. “I’ve got enough for two. I’m making pork chops. Don’t tell Kaylee.” She smiled impishly and put a finger to her lips.

      Images of domestic bliss, of pretty Kat as his wife serving him dinner, flitted through his mind. He shut them off almost violently. “I should probably spend some time with my family first.”

      The warmth drained from her eyes, though her smile remained. “Okay. No worries.”

      “It’s good to see you.” Riley mentally kicked himself. He sounded as if he were greeting an old classmate in the street. For Christ’s sake, he was an actor—a man whose job was to understand all the subtleties and subtext of language and words, a man supposedly in full control of his body and tone. And yet, in front of Kat Schwinn, he couldn’t do much more than babble and blurt out stupid things.

      “You, too.” She retreated inside.

      Idiot, he chastised himself, and went in to see his family.

      * * *

      IT’S GOOD TO see you.

      Kat knew she shouldn’t read any more into Riley’s words, but she couldn’t help searching for deeper meaning. Had he meant it? Or was it simply a platitude to keep things between them pleasant?

      Or was she trying to see something that wasn’t there?

      I should probably spend some time with my family first.

      Right. She wasn’t his family, and the baby wasn’t born yet, so why would he spend any time with her?

      She closed her eyes, summoning the look of astonishment and wonder on his face when he’d felt their baby kick. She’d wanted desperately for there to be a connection, but his hasty retreat had said plenty. The man was terrified.

      He’s still processing, she told herself. Considering his fuss over the car, at least she knew he was concerned

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