Shadows At Sunset

Shadows At Sunset
Anne Stuart

House of ShadowsThe house on Sunset Boulevard has witnessed everything: from the infamous murder-suicide of a ’50s starlet and her lover, to the drug-fueled commune in the ’60s, to the anguish of its present owner, Jilly Meyer, who is struggling to preserve the house and what’s left of her wounded family. Man of Shadows Coltrane is a liar, a con man and a threat to everything Jilly holds dear. He is also her hated father’s right-hand man, a gorgeous, loathsome snake who doesn’t care whom he uses to get what he wants. And he’s made it clear he wants Jilly. But the question is, what does he want her for? Shadows at SunsetSomehow Jilly has to stop Coltrane from destroying everything she cherishes. Including her own vulnerable heart. And the only way to do that is to uncover what Coltrane is really up to, and that could mean upsetting the explosive secrets of the past.

Someone was watching her.

Jilly opened her eyes and blinked, startled by the dimness of the room. It was late, the sky outside the broad expanse of windows was settling into an early autumn night, and the man watching her was blocking the door, consumed in shadows.

The hushed activity of Meyer Enterprises had stilled. It was very late, and she was alone with a stranger. If she had any sense at all she’d be scared to death.

“Are you going to hover there?” she asked in a tart voice, forcing herself to take her time in getting off the sofa.

He flicked on the light, and she blinked, momentarily disoriented after the shadowy dimness of the room. “I’m sorry I kept you so long.”

“I wasn’t waiting to see you. I don’t even know who you are. I was waiting to see Jackson.”

He stepped into the room, and his smile was deprecating, charming and completely false. “Your father asked me to handle it, Jillian. I’m—”

“Coltrane,” she supplied flatly. “I should have guessed.”

“Why?”

“My brother told me all about you.”

“Nothing flattering, I’m sure,” he said lightly.

Shadows at Sunset

Anne Stuart

First, I have to send huge thanks to my Genie sisters, Teresa Hill, Christie Ridgway and Barbara Samuel. They are goddesses extraordinaire, and really helped me jump-start this.

And thanks to Jackson Norton for letting me use his name. He’s the only Jackson I know, and he really is a most excellent young man, nothing at all like the wicked Jackson in this book.

And as always, for Richie and Kate and Timmy, for making me work when I’d rather play with them.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Prologue

From: Hollywood Haunts, Hartsfield Books, 1974

One of the most interesting houses in Hollywood is the famous La Casa de Sombras—House of Shadows. Built by the Greene brothers in 1928, La Casa is a perfect example of Spanish Colonial revival mixed with Mediterranean and Muslim influences. The once lavishly landscaped grounds are extensive, though recently the estate has fallen into disrepair and most likely will be razed.

La Casa de Sombras was the site of an infamous murder-suicide pact in the early 1950s. Fading film star Brenda de Lorillard shot her married lover, director Ted Hughes, before turning the gun on herself. Though a trail of blood led through the ornate house, both bodies were found in the lavish master bedroom. In the ensuing decades their ghosts have been spotted, at times arguing, at other times dancing on the terrace by moonlight, and occasionally, to the embarrassment of certain well-known Hollywood Realtors, in flagrante delicto on the large banquet table. Mystery still shrouds the reason for the murder-suicide.

The house was purchased by Meyer Enterprises and remained empty until the mid 1960s, when its grand elegance was tarnished after it was turned into a hippie crash pad for some of Hollywood’s notorious young actors and musicians. In recent years efforts had been made to restore the Grand Old Lady by the present owners, but like much of Hollywood’s architectural history, its days are most likely numbered. One can only wonder where the ghosts will go, once the baroque mansion is demolished.

Brenda de Lorillard, star of stage, screen, tabloids and nightmares, stretched her lithe body with a little catlike gesture, then made a moue at her beloved. “It’s been more than fifteen years since they published that dreadful book, darling. I think they’ve forgotten all about us.”