Red Carpet Arrangement

“You take amazing photos.”

“Thanks, though they have more to do with luck than any skill of mine. A twenty-thousand-dollar camera does the rest.”

“You’re so humble.” She nearly slapped a hand over her mouth. She hadn’t wanted to play the simpering, starstruck ingenue, but she couldn’t help it. “I mean, you’ve done so much... All those stories...”

“Thanks.” His sardonic smile nearly melted her insides. “What do you do at Limelight Whispers?”

“I’m the fun-and-games editor.” She cringed inwardly. It sounded as trivial as her mother made it out to be. She amended sheepishly, “I put up the daily puzzles, comics and horoscopes, in addition to a lot of general web upkeep. I’m also working on the redesign. And I copy edit. I’ve written a couple of stories, too. I hope to write more.” She was babbling now.

Durst sipped his coffee. “You go to school for that?”

Jamie’s face flamed. Yeah, it wasn’t the Woodward and Bernstein type stuff she’d always dreamed of doing, but it wasn’t as if she was being given the opportunity to find her own stories.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean that as an insult,” Durst said kindly. “All I meant was that the industry is tough right now. Almost not worth the college tuition to go into it professionally. But kudos for sticking it out. Any job that pays the rent is a good one.”

Was that all the advice Charlie Durst had for her? She leaned forward, trying to act casual. “So what’s this story you’re working on for Lance?”

He gave a dry chuckle. “I think you know exactly what it is, Miss Little Pitcher With Big Ears. I bet everyone in the office knows.”

She lowered her voice. “You’re looking for the woman Riley Lee Jackson helped at the premiere, right?”

“Isn’t everyone?”

“But you’re the only one who has a name.”

“One I paid for, sure. No guarantees it’s not fake. Do you know why I go around in disguise so often? It’s because people recognize me. They don’t trust me and won’t talk to me. They think I’ll lie and make something up about them. In real journalism, you don’t have to pay for good information or wear stupid costumes. But in this town, with my past...” He trailed off with a grimace.

Poor Charlie. Clearly, he’d learned his lesson—the man deserved a second chance.

She decided to forge ahead, despite her misgivings. She didn’t want to burn Kat. She’d been sitting on this information out of a sense of loyalty to her friend...but that had eroded with every unanswered email to her friend. “Maybe I can help you.”

His eyebrow rose skeptically, but he didn’t laugh at her. She had his attention. This was her chance to finally prove she could be more than a web mistress.

“I think I know who the woman is.”

Charlie sat very still. “Do you have proof?”

“I might.” When Jamie saw those photos of the mystery woman Riley Lee Jackson had ushered into his limo, she’d recognized the outfit Kat had worn, the stoop of Kat’s shoulders, the line of her body. The pink streak in her hair was faint enough to be mistaken for a reflection, but Jamie would recognize it anywhere. Along with Kat’s cryptic messages, which she’d traced to a five-star hotel, Jamie was certain her friend was the woman in the picture...and Riley Lee Jackson was her baby’s father.

She’d planned to go through Kat’s things to see if she could confirm her initial suspicions—maybe find a diary or something that proved Riley was the baby daddy. But Kat had already packed her things and was on her way out of the apartment the day after the premiere. Jamie had felt betrayed when Kat hadn’t let her in on her big secret. She’d thought they were friends. She’d thought she was more than someone with a couch to Kat.

Charlie’s eyes narrowed. “It’s been over a week. Why didn’t you bring this information to Lance?”

“He doesn’t listen to me. To him, I’m just a code monkey. 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.”