Sam, normally a friendly sort, seemed visibly wary—she obviously didn’t trust Kat. None of them should. But Riley didn’t like the tension running across Kat’s shoulders. It couldn’t be good for the baby.
That note of strain remained as everyone heaped their plates with food. They were quiet as they ate. Riley watched Kat cut her food into bite-size pieces and chew them carefully. He thought eating for two meant stuffing your face with abandon. Or did the baby need as much food at six-and-a-half months?
Then it occurred to him he had no idea about anything to do with babies or pregnancy. He liked other people’s kids fine, and worked with lots of children’s charities. He knew how to be a big brother and the man of the house. But a dad?
He set down his cutlery and hid his suddenly trembling hands in his lap. “I’m a bit nauseous,” he explained when his mother sent him a questioning look. “Too much to drink last night.”
“Something else you’ll have to watch out for with all the schmoozing he does,” Winnie said to Kat.
“I’m not a boozehound, Mom.” He knew she was sensitive to his drinking because of the way his father had been, but it was hard to avoid a social cocktail at big Hollywood shindigs.
“That reminds me,” Sam interjected, “I received an invitation to a spirits tasting in early October. It’s a charity thing to raise awareness for...bah, now I can’t remember. A thousand a head. Good cause, and a few friends of Harlan’s will be there.”
“Friends of Harlan’s” was code for bigwig producers, directors and investors, guys who could give Riley the Oscar-worthy scripts he craved. Playing Captain Jaxon Killian would be fine for a few years—and it would provide a steady paycheck of residuals and merchandise royalties for the rest of his life—but he wanted meatier parts, more challenging roles. “Put me down for yes.”
His mother frowned while Sam made a note in her leather-bound planner. Mom knew very well that networking at such events and keeping his face in Hollywood’s mind was part of the job.
“Okay, on to business.” Sam closed her planner and turned toward Kat. “Riley’s told me about how you two met. The timing’s right. I went through my emails and correspondence over the past year, but I don’t have any record of you contacting me, so you’ll understand my suspicions. It’s possible, however, that your messages went through the filters of the administration staff and my assistants first.”
“No one believed me.” Kat’s voice was flat, resigned. “No one.”
“I’m sorry for that. Please don’t take it personally. The agency must protect Riley’s interests, and I’ve been through this before with other clients. In fact, over the past two years, three women have come forward claiming they’re pregnant with Riley’s baby.”
Riley fixed his expression, watching the play of emotions on Kat’s face shift from disbelief to amusement to solemn apprehension. If she was lying, it didn’t show. She only squared her shoulders and defiantly declared, “It’s Riley’s. I wish it weren’t. But it is.”
Irritation pricked him again. Wasn’t he good enough? Maybe she was manipulating him, pulling a reverse-psychology bit, but she hadn’t come off as a con artist when they’d first met in Hawaii, and she didn’t come off as one now. Unless she was that good. He was an actor after all, and had worked with some of the best. He knew how a great actor could transform him or herself.
“Why would you have heard about those other three pregnant women and not me? How’d they get your attention?”
“They went directly to the press when they couldn’t get to Riley. Thought they’d grab some quick cash by selling exclusives to the tabloids.” She cut Kat an intrigued look “You could’ve gone to the papers, too, but you risked getting yourself thrown in jail, or worse, to see Riley. So either you’re a very convincing sociopath, or you’re telling the truth.”
Kat’s chin jutted. Riley thought Sam was being unnecessarily provocative, but Kat’s reactions were telling.
“I looked into doing paternity tests,” Sam went on, pulling some printouts from her bag. “There are options, but at this stage in your pregnancy, there’s some risk involved in extracting what we need.”
“We’re not doing that, then,” Riley cut in sharply. “I won’t risk the baby’s health.” He sensed surprise from the others as he met Kat’s eye. “Until we know for sure, I’ll help you cover the costs for everything you’ll need.”
He suddenly realized what he was saying. That he was accepting her word without proof, and that he was willing to stick it out with her at least until the baby’s birth.
“Are...are you sure?” Kat looked shocked.
“I may be a jerk, but I’m not an asshole.”
Kat clapped her palms on either side of her belly, as if she could cover the baby’s delicate ears. “Ah-bah-bah! Shh!”
He rolled his eyes. “Fine...artichoke. Whatever.”
She wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue. He held back a smile. She’d done that before, when they’d first met—when she’d still looked bright and fresh and indomitable, even in a coconut-shell bikini top. He was glad that spark hadn’t been completely snuffed out.
Sam shrugged. “All right, then. I guess that’s settled.” Her tone told Riley she didn’t entirely approve, but wouldn’t argue. She removed another sheaf of papers from her bag and slid them toward Kat. “I’ll need you to sign this.”
Kat picked them up warily. “What is it?”
“Nondisclosure agreement. While Riley is paying for your doctor’s visits and whatever else you need, you’ll be legally bound to keep silent about who you’re with, who’s footing the tab, who the father of your child is—” She paused. “Unless you’ve already told someone.”
“Obviously people know I’m pregnant. Kind of hard to hide.” She thought a moment. “I told my mom that the baby’s father was an actor and that I was headed to LA to track him down, but I didn’t name Riley. And I’ve only left her messages. She hasn’t called me back yet, so she may not even know.” Hurt and concern creased her face. She quickly covered it up with a too-dry chuckle. “Last I heard, she was sailing on a catamaran in the Caribbean. I don’t think she gets on land too often.”
“What’s your mother’s name?”
“Dorothy Schwinn. Most people call her Dotty.”
Sam jotted furiously in her notebook. “Anyone else? Someone close to her who might have access to her voice mails?”
“She’s had a few boyfriends, but no one who’d have access to her messages. She’s kind of private. Prefers to be independent.”
Sam nodded in understanding. “You’re staying with a friend, I hear?”
“Yeah. She doesn’t know about Riley, either.”
“But she knows you’re pregnant.”
“What do you think?” she asked, pointing to her stomach.
Sam pursed her lips. “Okay. First things first. You’re moving out of her place today. Tell her another friend is taking you in. Say nothing else.”
“Is that really necessary?”
“Kat, we already agreed to this,” Riley said. Her continued resistance annoyed him.
“First rule in Hollywood—don’t trust anyone,” Sam said. “I’ve seen lifelong friends and family members dish on actors’ lives for a payout. The tabloids have a lot of money to throw around.”
Kat cast Riley a sad look. “The price of fame?”
He lifted a shoulder. Sam’s cynicism wasn’t unfounded, but he had yet to abandon anyone in his life because they’d betrayed him or his family to the press.
“You don’t read the tabloids, do you?” his agent guessed.
“Not really.”
“Well, these people are ruthless. They will rip apart your life bit by bit, follow you everywhere, turn every friend you’ve ever had into an informant, breathe down your neck, peer through your windows, dig through your trash and make up stories about you based on everything you eat, buy and throw out. It’s all bullsh—” she stopped herself at Kat’s narrowed look “—uh...bonbons?” Thrown off, Sam shook her head. “Anyhow, they’re vicious. This is a cutthroat business. Do you want to expose your child to that?”
“Of course not.”
“Then, for God’s sake, tell your friend nothing. I’m sorry, Kat, but your life isn’t yours anymore.”
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_fd6c1f25-8608-5882-a8dc-657b7605ac97)
YOUR LIFE ISN’T yours anymore.