LITMIR.BIZ

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her if she’d like an appetizer to start.

      A tick began in Riley’s cheek as he swung Juliette down in a dip and hovered over her dangerously. They stayed nose to nose for about five seconds as the cameras gobbled it up. His back started hurting and he had to pull her up. Both of them laughed it off. “Yeah, I’m not doing that again,” he said, stretching.

      Juliette made an affirmative sound before slowly making her way back into the throng. She joined Harlan, who’d been watching them from the sidelines. The director, who always wore a fedora—Riley assumed to cover up the fact that he was balding—gave him two thumbs up.

      Riley smiled and nodded. Harlan was a good director, but Riley didn’t care much for him as a person. He would likely be working with him again on future Infinite Destinies films, though, so he had to play nice.

      A commotion near the VIP stand caught his attention. Sometimes crazy fans did desperate things to get noticed by one or more celebrities. He moved closer to his mother, studiously ignoring the hubbub.

      Sam hurried over. “Nothing to worry about,” she told him cheerfully. “The usual crazypants Riley fan. Security’s not as good here as it was before. I think they got a new firm to do crowd control.”

      He was dimly aware of a high-pitched cry calling his name. Something about it seemed familiar.

      He glanced at the stands, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. To his ears, the fans’ half-screamed cheers were a wall of white noise like the least relaxing track on a seascapes CD—hungry gulls shrieking for more.

      “Riley! Riley! Riley! It’s me!”

      That flash of pink again, and he turned to really look this time, painting on a grin for whoever was trying so hard to get his attention.

      “We’re going in,” Sam said. He nodded absently, still scanning the stands. He couldn’t shake the feeling he was missing something. Maybe he’d imagined it.

      He linked arms with his mother and started forward. The Infinite Destinies banner was plastered across the marquee over the main entrance, his trademark glower so big he could see his pores.

      “Riley!”

      The voice came on a desperate rasp, and it was so familiar, so exquisitely sensual in his memory, that it punched him in the gut. He spun around.

      At first, he thought he was seeing things. The pink stripe of hair... It couldn’t be.

      “Riley!” Her voice seemed to be coming from far away. As far as Hawaii.

      Three big security guards grabbed her as she burst through a break in the barricade. As those meaty arms seized her, she gasped his name again...

      The same way she had that night.

      It was her. It was Katherine Schwinn.

      “Hey!” He shot toward the men trying to frog-march her away. “Stop. I know her.” The security guards, one on each arm and a third directly behind her, had Kat strung up by her clothes. They stared at him blankly. He summoned his most patient, charming smile. “It’s cool, guys. Let her go.”

      “Riley.” Kat collapsed to her knees. The bouncers hovered, as if they were ready to kick her if she made one wrong move.

      “Seriously, guys, I know her. She won’t cause any trouble.” He hated it when the muscle got overzealous. Kat was hardly a threat to anyone, much less him.

      She had her arms wrapped around her middle. Her face was flushed and sweaty, and dark circles ringed her eyes. Her blond hair lay flat and lank, almost too thin against her delicate skull, and the vibrant cotton-candy-pink stripe hadn’t been dyed in a few months, judging by the dark roots. She looked like a washed-out version of the waitress he’d met in that Hawaiian tiki bar.

      “I... I’ve been trying to find you...”

      Now that he’d rescued her, he became keenly aware of the rest of the crowd, the cameras on him, his mother standing nearby, all watching, and he knew they were all asking the same question: Who was this mystery woman Riley Lee Jackson was talking to?

      “It’s nice to see you, Kat,” he said automatically, helping her to her feet. Their one-night stand hadn’t amounted to much apart from some keen memories he liked to revisit whenever he was lonely. That was what he told himself, anyhow, to explain away the heady rush of nostalgic lust pulsing through him. Her hand slipped into his, and heat throbbed across his muscles, making him twitch. Only the cheering around him kept him rooted to the real world, reminding him of their very public spectacle. “Listen, I’ve got to go in...”

      “No, Riley.” Kat’s death grip on his sleeve made the security men tense. “You don’t understand. I tried to call, I wrote, I emailed, I did everything I could to contact you—”

      “I’ve been working.” Oh, boy. He hoped she wasn’t one of those women. They’d had fun that night, but that was it. She’d made that pretty clear herself.

      “Riley.” She gripped him by both arms, drawing him closer. “Look at me.”

      He searched her face, saw the desperate tears gathering in her blue eyes, a color as deep as the Pacific, the intense flush on her softly rounded cheeks.

      Her chin drooped, and he followed the motion down to the unmistakable baby bump hiding beneath her open jacket.

      “It’s yours,” she whispered.

CHAPTER TWO

      KAT HAD EXPECTED ASTONISHMENT. Shock. Denial and panic. She’d hoped for happiness. She’d been ready for anger. But she hadn’t anticipated the older woman with dark brown hair in a sparkly evening gown who appeared at Riley’s side.

      “Riley? What’s the matter?” Her quizzical gaze slid toward Kat. She wanted to curl up in a ball and die.

      “Come on.” He yanked her close, the heat of his breath draping over her neck. “And for God’s sake, cover that up.”

      She fumbled with the buttons of her jacket as he spoke briefly to the woman standing beside him. Her back stiffened and she stared at Kat. A petite younger woman in black with stilts for heels swept in, cupping Riley’s elbow. A few low words and now her eyes sharpened on Kat, too.

      Chicken nuggets. This had been such a bad idea.

      Around her, flashbulbs went off. Someone shouted a question at her. Then someone else. And suddenly, she was enveloped in shouting, and then a hand on the small of her back guided her forward as the men who’d previously tried to bum-rush her out closed in around her.

      They weren’t leading her away, though. Instead, they waded into a sea of upraised hands holding huge cameras, the flashes like lightning, blinding her. All she could see through her dazzled vision were dark-clad backs and shoulders. The air was so stifling, she thought she might pass out.

      All through it she could feel the heat of Riley’s body pressed against her side.

      “Don’t say anything,” he said in a low, deadly voice. “Don’t respond. Don’t look up.”

      It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to funnel cake off—that no one told her what to do. But then a car door opened in front of her like a dark maw.

      “Get in.”

      The air-conditioned leather interior was too tempting to resist. She ducked her head and launched herself into the backseat, quickly scooting over as the older woman in the evening gown slid in after her, followed more sedately by Riley and Stilts For Shoes.

      The door slammed shut, and the limo—she realized that was what she’d gotten into, with its rear-facing seats and the floor space between them—pulled away from the curb.

      “Back to the hotel,” Riley told the driver before turning his glare to Kat.

      Now three

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