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huh, sis? Today Wayside, tomorrow Oprah.”

      “Hardly. And I don’t know why she called me that. As for the so-called challenge, he said something that set me off and apparently the lughead took my reaction as some sort of personal affront.”

      “Well, Belinda Barbara said…”

      Kara gritted her teeth. “Let’s talk about something else.”

      “Something else? Marcus Ambrose is in town for a month. You’re cozied up next to him on my TV. What else is there to talk about?”

      Kara sighed.

      “Is he as gorgeous in person as he is on his CDs and in movies?” Before Kara could answer, Patrice let out another squeal of delight when footage from one of his concerts rolled.

      She was eventually able to get Patrice off the line. But no sooner had she replaced the receiver than the phone rang. Again. And again. And again.

      The next morning it was still ringing. Had everybody in Wayside been watching the news last night?

      Kara fielded no less than a dozen calls from relatives, co-workers and the curious. Then the reporters started knocking on her front door.

      Chapter Three

      A rapidly growing crowd spilled off the porch of the Wayside Inn and along the sidewalk and street in front of the house. TV trucks and giggling girls holding posters of Marcus Ambrose caused even more disruption on the normally quiet street.

      “Coming through, folks. Coming through.” A small path opened for the television crew headed for the porch. Right behind them came a woman balancing a large tray of pastries.

      “Had I known this many people would be here, I’d have made an extra batch of pecan honey rolls,” Amber Montgomery said as the innkeeper held the door open for her while keeping at bay the camera crew from a cable TV entertainment show.

      “You probably still have time. These people aren’t going anywhere anytime soon.” Then, louder, for the reporters. “Mr. Ambrose said he’ll be making a statement later today. Over at the college. At three-thirty.”

      No one moved. Ophelia Younger sighed.

      Amber followed her to the kitchen. “So, the famous Marcus Ambrose is camping out at the Wayside Inn.”

      “This has been a nightmare from the moment that limo pulled up followed by those TV people. Mr. Ambrose and his staff, well, they’ve been incredibly nice, but what a disruption.” The innkeeper filled Amber in on all the details. “What’s this challenge thing they’re up to? I read Cyril’s story today in the Gazette. He had more to say about the verbal fireworks between Kara and Marcus than anything else.”

      Amber shrugged. “If I see her, I’ll ask.” She pulled out the invoice from her catering company, Appetizers & More, and placed it on the counter. “I saw Kara on the news last night. She didn’t look like a happy camper.”

      Upstairs, Nadira Wilson set a cup of green tea in front of Marcus and picked up her clipboard.

      “This place is lovely, but it’s never going to work as an office for the next month.”

      Marcus grunted. He’d come to that conclusion about three in the morning when, with his mind on Dr. Kara Spencer, he’d gotten up to head to the fridge for a snack, only to discover the kitchen door locked with a discreet little sign that said “Off-limits to guests.”

      “Find me…”

      “A house.” Nadira finished the thought and placed three sheets of paper in front of him.

      He looked at the three houses for rent and shook his head. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Radar O’Reilly.”

      “Don’t call me that,” Nadira said. “The one on top comes furnished. The other two don’t. The furniture rental place can be here within three hours. The office equipment tomorrow. In addition to a large great room and several bedrooms that can be converted into office space, the middle one has a guest cottage on the property and a home theater with surround sound and a popcorn machine. The third house isn’t nearly as large. Just four bedrooms. But it’s located right next door to the woman you debated last night.”

      Marcus perked up at that. “One more time?”

      Nadira pulled out the sheet from the real estate company and placed it on top of the others. “This one is neighbor to Dr. Kara Spencer’s house. The real-estate agent made a point of letting me know that. He saw you two on the news last night.”

      Marcus nodded. “Make it happen.”

      Smiling, she placed a contract in front of him. “I figured that would be your choice.”

      “Smarty-pants.” He glanced over the rental agreement, then thought of the man’s taunt last night. “Is there a pool?”

      “No, sir.”

      “Good. I’ll show her some real-world living up close and personal.” He scrawled his name on the agreement. Then his mind jumped to something else, something he couldn’t live without. “See if there’s a fitness center here in town. If so, get a thirty-day pass. If not, see if some weight-lifting and workout equipment can be rented along with the furniture.”

      She made a notation on the ever-present clipboard.

      “And get me a couple of…”

      Nadira placed two pain relievers on the table in front of him. He would have smiled if his head hadn’t been pounding so much.

      Stress. That’s what the doctor said caused them. But there’d been no reason for one to develop now. He was here in Mayberry, R.F.D., also known as Wayside, Oregon, about to enjoy a month of what should amount to R and R. A month away from the press and call of Los Angeles and the nonstop flying across country for gigs. The only problem was that he had a backlog of business to tend to.

      The good news was that the work he’d contracted to do for the music and film festival would take all of two weeks to complete even though it was spread out over the month. Theoretically, that left him with enough free time to settle down, get caught up on breathing lessons and to unwind a little.

      Between studio time, touring dates and video and movie production schedules, Marcus rarely found time to just kick back.

      Now when he’d been blessed with the time, the headaches were pounding his head again. He wanted to get a jump on the early applications for the foundation he headed. The deadline loomed, still a week away. That meant the bulk of applications would pour in on the very last day. Nadira had already arranged to have them overnighted to Wayside. They’d reviewed about ten already and still had a box to go through.

      He rubbed his temples.

      “Do you want me to call Dr. Heller?”

      The concern in Nadira’s voice didn’t go unnoticed. He shook his head. “I’m fine. But just in case…”

      “I’ll get the prescription filled.”

      He nodded. “You should give yourself a raise while you’re at it.”

      “You already pay me a sinfully large amount of money.”

      “And you earn every penny of it. You anticipate every need before I even voice it.”

      “That’s why you pay me the big bucks, boss man. Now, as for the agenda today…”

      He shook his head and rubbed his temples again, not really up for the task in front of him. But putting off the workload would simply make things snowball. “I need some time first.”

      “All right.” She glanced at her to-do list. “Marcus, I know we’re pretty tied up here, but would it be all right if I swing down to L.A.? My dad’s not doing so well and I want to check on him.”

      “Not a problem.”

      “I’ll

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