“Doesn’t matter. David’s testing you, so what are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Fine.” Christine sighed. “But I’m telling you it’s fate. You two are meant to be together. If you blow this chance, David is going to think you haven’t forgiven him. He’ll give up and—”
“He thinks I’m a slut.” Unable to keep still, Kieran pushed himself out of his lounge chair and paced around the patio. “He thinks I screwed around on him when we were together, and that I screwed around on Will with him.”
“Which you didn’t set him straight about.”
“He didn’t give me a chance. He wouldn’t listen.”
“So you got him to fuck you instead, then you ran off. That really fi xed things.”
“He was so mad.”
“He was so hurt,” she corrected.
“How do you know? You don’t know him.”
“I don’t. I’m just guessing.” When Kieran just snorted she continued. “Look, you’re right. I don’t know him that well. I’ve only met him a couple times when Gavin’s brought him around, but I know if it were me—”
“If it were you, and Ronnie did what I did, you’d have his balls on your key-ring.”
This made her laugh. “True enough, but David is nicer than I am. And he still loves you, or at least he hasn’t written the two of you off altogether. Now, what are you going to do about it?” What he did about it was sit there and listen to her badger him for the next twenty minutes about why it was a good, no, a great idea for him to call David.
“I’m not going to call him,” Kieran said at last. “Though I probably will—”
208 Gardner ~ His Leading Man
Her phone rang. Picking it up, she glanced at the display and held up one fi nger. “I have to take this call, but I won’t be long, hopefully.” She rose to her feet. “Hello Fran. Before you ask, that was not my doing. No.” She walked to the sliding door and opened it. “I didn’t tell her that. I had no idea she would put it in her column.”
As the door closed behind her and her voice faded, Kieran reached for his cell. While Christine was taking her call, he would send David a quick text. Then, when she came back, he could tell her what he’d done. That would be that and she would quit riding his case. Kieran began to type.
Thanks for the congrats.
But that seemed… well, not very personal, like he could have sent that same message to hundreds of well-wishers, or had one of the assistants at the studio do it. He started over.
David, thanks for the text. It really meant a lot to—
God, don’t gush. It’s a text, not a declaration of undying love. Except that was exactly what he wished it were, exactly the subtext he wanted to convey.
From the corner of his eye, he saw movement inside the house. Christine was coming back.
Okay, one more time, without gushing and without writing a freakin’ book.
D, thank you. Your text meant a lot. K.
The sliding door opened and before he could change his mind, he pressed SEND. There, no going back now.
◊ ◊ ◊ ◊
On Monday he arrived at the studio to fi nd Will’s Porsche was not in its usual space. Hmm, that was weird. Will was always here before him. Maybe he’d told Roxanne how he got that bite and she had already killed him and hidden the body. Or not. Kieran locked his own car, pocketed his keys and headed inside.
He hadn’t heard from Will for the rest of the weekend, which was just fi ne by him. Maybe he should have felt guilty for ENCORE! ENCORE!
209
what he’d done, biting him like that really was pretty crazy if he thought about it. So every time Will’s accusing face fl oated to the surface of his consciousness, he squashed it back down.
Their relationship was volatile, always had been, and he secretly suspected that was one of the things Will liked about it. Still, biting him was probably over the line, even if it had seemed like his only recourse at the time.
He hadn’t heard from David either. And as much as he tried to pretend it didn’t matter and he hadn’t expected it, Kieran was disappointed. It might have been unreasonable and out of all proportion with what he had any right to hope for, but there it was. A text, an email or, God, even a phone call, he had let himself hope, so if he was disappointed now, it was no one’s fault but his own.
When he reached his dressing room, he found his P.A., Sandy, writing on the erasable board hanging on the door.
“Kieran, there you are.” She erased what she’d written and turned to face him. “Hey, congrats on your big win the other night. I wish I could have been there. We’re all crazy proud of you.”
“Thanks, San. Hey, were you leaving me a love note?” She smiled. “Nope, sorry to disappoint. I was just leaving you a note about a change in the shooting schedule.” He opened the door and she followed him inside as she gave him a rundown of the changes. “So they’ll need you in makeup in forty-fi ve. Is that doable?”
“Sure.” Kieran dropped his bag on the couch and slid out of his jacket.
“Oh, before I forget.” Sandy walked over to the small side table next to the couch, picked up a large envelope and held it out. “This came for you this morning by courier.”
“What is it?” In the middle of unbuttoning his shirt, Kieran paused, eyeing the envelope. It was just an envelope, so why was his belly suddenly all fl uttery with…nerves? No, damn it, quit it with the hope, because that would just be stupid.
210 Gardner ~ His Leading Man
“I don’t know. It just got here a few minutes ago, so I haven’t really had time to look at it.”
He could tell she was itching to do just that, so he played nonchalant and shrugged. “Just leave it there. I’ll look at it later.”
“But don’t you want to know what it is? It’s from Christine Ferrar.”
He tried to ignore the sharp stab of disappointment. Of course it wasn’t from David, stupid. Why would it be?
“So you did look at it.”
She fl ushed. “Just the top sheet. To see who it was from.
I’m protecting your privacy, making sure no crazies get through.
That’s my job, right?”
“Yeah, yeah. That’s what they all say.” He made his tone light and teasing, to cover the disappointment.
Her blush deepened. Then her eyes widened as she caught on to the fact that he was yanking her chain. “Kieran!” But despite his disappointment, he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped and she swatted at him with the envelope. He dodged, still laughing. “Watch it, missy, or I won’t let you read whatever else is in there.” He made a grab for the envelope and missed.
She danced back, holding it over her head. “Ha, possession is nine tenths of— Whoa!” Her foot caught on the leg of a chair.
She stumbled back and caught herself on the end of the makeup table. The envelope fl ew out of her hand. It hit the fl oor and spilled its contents at Kieran’s feet.
He crouched and scooped up the pages. Hugging them against his chest, he grinned at Sandy. “Now, what were you saying about possession?”
“No fair.” Her cheeks were still pink but she was laughing.
Shoving a hand through her hair, she eyed him expectantly. “So?
Kieran looked down at the pages in his hands. The top sheet was a note written on Christine’s personal stationery.
ENCORE! ENCORE!
211
Kieran sweetie,
It’s only 105 pages, so I’ll call you tonight to hear what you think. Or you can call before then to tell me how right I was. I promise not to gloat. Well, not too much anyway.
Love, C.
Kieran fl ipped to the next page. It was the script for Gavin and David’s movie, the same one Christine had been badgering him about. Of course it was. What a surprise.
“Hey, it’s a script.” Sandy leaned over Kieran’s shoulder, her blond hair tickling his cheek. “I read that book. It’s fantastic. I just love Gavin Collier’s writing. Did they offer you a part in that movie?”
“No.” He fl ipped more pages, looking for Michael’s fi rst lines.
Not because he was actually considering the role, because that would be asking for trouble. He was just curious, that’s all.
The fi rst scene was a funeral. Exterior, daylight, graveside.
The fi rst shot showing the gathering of mourners, all standing by the grave. The camera comes in to focus on the casket covered in fl owers and in the background the voice of the minister. The shot pulls back and we get our fi rst look at Michael, the bereaved partner of the dead man.
Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.
“Um, Kieran?”
Kieran glanced up from his reading. Sandy was watching him, her eyes alight with interest.
“I guess you’re going to read it?”
“Maybe. Later.” Kieran stuffed the script and Christine’s note back in the envelope and dropped it on the couch next to his bag.
“Can I read it?”
212 Gardner ~ His Leading Man
“Go ahead. You will anyway.” Hooking the makeup stool with his foot, he pulled it out and reached for his hair brush.
Sandy actually looked offended. “Not if you tell me not to.” Kieran pulled the rubber band from his hair and began running the brush through it. “I said go ahead, if you want. It doesn’t matter to me.”
After only a few strokes, he laid the brush aside and picked up a copy of
Spotlight
someone had left on the table. It was the trashiest of trashy tabloids, but it would do for a distraction. He didn’t want to think about that script or what it could mean if he somehow managed to get the role of Michael.
He unfolded the paper and froze. On the front page there were side by side pictures of him from Saturday’s awards show.
The fi rst showed him arriving and greeting people as he walked the red carpet. The second showed his departure draped over the arm of Danny Brighton, the brunet he had not gone home with, though from the picture you certainly wouldn’t get that impression. The accompanying headline read, Kieran Reilly, winner of best actor in a new series, spreading his celebrity around—or maybe just spreading.
Kieran groaned. It wasn’t the worst headline he’d ever had in this particular rag, but it was bad enough, and with the photograph, made him look like a total drunken slut.
Will was so not going to be happy. He’d have to read the article before he tracked him down. But not now. He tossed the paper aside.
“Oh, God, don’t read that.” Sandy reached for the paper. “It’s awful, as usual.”
“Did you leave it there?”
“Somebody gave it to me. I knew I set it down somewhere and I forgot where.” She stuck it under her arm. “I’m just going to get rid of it.”
“Wait. I want to read it. What did they say about me?” She shook her head. “You don’t want to read it. Trust me.” ENCORE! ENCORE!
213
And now he really wanted to read it.
“C’mon, San, I’ll just go and fi nd another copy.” He held out his hand.
She gave it to him, the expression on her face making clear that she was not happy about it. “There’s some really snarky stuff in there, Kieran. About you…and Will Tierney.” Kieran looked up. “About…”
She nodded. “It’s nasty. Are you sure…” But he’d stopped listening and was scanning the article. He found it in the third paragraph.
“Producer Will Tierney has been linked with a certain Hollywood
pretty-boy whose latest escapades have included…”
The article didn’t come right out and say that Will was banging Kieran, but through implication and innuendo, none of which was actually provable, the point was crystal clear. Heart pounding, Kieran skimmed the rest of the article.
Uh-fucking-oh!
“I told you it was bad.” Gently Sandy pulled the paper out of Kieran’s numb fi ngers. She crumpled it and tossed it in the corner. “Nobody believes that crap, Kieran.”
“Where’s Will? Have you seen him?” Will was going to freak the fuck out when he saw that article.
She shook her head, blond curls bouncing. “Uh-uh. I heard he won’t be in today. Poor thing has to have a mole or something removed from his face. They’re afraid it might be…you know.”
“Might be what?”
She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Cancer. And on his face too. Poor thing.”
“Cancer?” What the hell?
“Didn’t you know? I thought for sure he’d tell you.” She tsked.
“Hopefully it won’t leave a scar.”
214 Gardner ~ His Leading Man
So Will was telling people he had to have a cancerous mole removed from his face. Geez, the man had no shame.
Okay, he could handle this. He was an actor after all.
Kieran assumed the appropriate tone of sympathetic concern.
“Wow, I had no idea. Poor Will.”
Sandy nodded. “I know, right? A bunch of us are getting together a collection to send him a fruit basket. I can add your name to the card, if you want.”
A fruit basket. Oi.
“Thanks, but I think I’ll send something on my own.”
“Suit yourself.” She glanced at her watch and winced. “Hey, we better kick it into high gear. You’re due in makeup in twenty minutes.” She turned her attention to the rack where she’d set out his costume changes for the day. Riffl ing through the clothes, she took a fi lmy black negligee off a hanger. “Look at this.” She held it up. “Isn’t it hot? You’re wearing it in the fi rst scene.” She winked. “Without any underwear.”
David glanced around his apartment and, satisfi ed that he’d dealt with the worst of the mess, he settled in front of the computer, a half-fi nished venti mocha latte by his elbow. He should have just enough time before Gavin arrived for a quick skim of his email. As he waited for his messages to download, David looked around for his glasses, having already blinked out his contacts. After several minutes of searching he found the glasses hanging by one ear-piece from the neck of his t-shirt. He pulled them out and slid them on his face.
He scanned the list of unread messages, smiled when he saw the one from Emilio and clicked it open. A naked torso fi lled David’s screen, the photo showing from nipples to groin, a hard cock fl ush against a cobbled belly. He wouldn’t have needed to see the face or the name to know the sender was Emilio. He’d know that lean, brown body anywhere.
The odd angle and the grainy quality suggested that Emilio had taken the picture himself, probably with a cell phone. Below the pic he had written, “Thinking of you. Can’t wait for this weekend.”