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She gave her best indignant gasp as heat flared low in her belly. It came out forced.
“Would you prefer to return to wherever it is you’re staying?” he asked irately.
She didn’t relish the thought of spending another night on Jamie’s lumpy couch. Besides, now that the press had photographed her confronting Riley, it was only a matter of time before things got awkward between her and her friend. Kat had only told her that the baby’s father was “some guy she’d met in Hawaii”; keeping a secret like this from Jamie had felt dishonest, but she hadn’t had much choice.
I’m being practical. Riley probably had the right idea about that. She had come to him out of sheer practicality after all.
“Fine. I’ll stay one night.”
“The whole week or nothing,” he countered. “And if the baby is mine, you’ll come back with me to Modesto. I can’t have you running to the press.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” she protested.
“If you want me to even begin to trust you, Kat, you’ll have to prove to me how serious you are.”
She blew out a breath. “This is ridiculous. You’re asking me to give up my life.”
“What’s your other option? Walking out? Because I can pretend you were never here and keep going on with my life. Can you?”
She ground her teeth. The only bargaining chip she had was to go to the press, but what would that earn her except his scorn and a lot of attention she didn’t want? And public pressure wouldn’t ingratiate her with Riley. She relented with a grunt. “I’ll have to get my things.”
“I’ll have the concierge send up anything you need for tonight,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Don’t leave your room while I’m gone. The paparazzi will be looking for you, and it’s going to take all of Sam’s focus to keep them off your scent. Do you understand?”
He might as well have tied her to the bed. But she nodded, even though she didn’t appreciate his attitude.
With a quick call to the front desk, the concierge arranged a separate room for Kat on a different floor. Riley escorted her there, his presence as oppressive as a prison guard’s. A bellboy brought a basket of toiletries, grinning as Riley handed him a fat tip. Discretion came at a hefty price, apparently.
“What do I do for clothes?” she asked.
“Send what you’re wearing to the laundry. And you can collect your things tomorrow.”
“But...what am I supposed to wear in the meantime?”
“There’s a robe in the closet.”
“I can’t go around naked.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Are you expecting company?”
She recognized the backhanded insult for what it was and glowered at him. “No.”
He looked at his watch again. “I have to go. Stay here. We’ll talk in the morning. If you haven’t eaten dinner, order room service. Whatever you want. It’s on my tab.”
“I can pay my own way, you know.”
He gave a disbelieving snort. He was right, of course, but that didn’t snuff out her indignation. Alpha douche, she thought, then wondered if douche was a swearword she should have censored.
With barely a nod he was gone, and she was alone.
The baby kicked as if to remind her she would never be alone again—to remind her of what was important.
And you are important, Sweetpea, she thought soothingly, rubbing her belly as if it were a crystal ball she could divine the future from. I won’t let anything happen to you. You’ll go to school and have friends and a place to keep all your toys...and you’ll never have to worry about where you’ll get your next meal.
Her stomach growled then. She’d been so nervous about seeing Riley she hadn’t been able to contemplate eating beforehand. Caving to her need for sustenance, she picked up the phone and dialed room service.
Thirty minutes later, she tucked into a chicken quesadilla, a beet salad, a plate of steak frites and a hot fudge sundae. She ate slowly, relishing every bite.
Once she’d finished her feast, she left her friend a message, simply telling her Kat wouldn’t be home that night, not saying where she was. She hesitated before she dialed the next number, wondering if it was even worth making the long-distance call. Predictably, it went to voice mail.
“You haven’t reached me...and if you don’t know who this is, don’t bother leaving a message.”
Kat sighed. “Hey, Mom, it’s me again. I’ve finally connected with Sweetpea’s daddy.” She cleared her throat. “I hope you haven’t been trying my cell—I couldn’t afford it anymore. And I’m not at my friend Jamie’s tonight, so if you’re going to call...” She left the name of the hotel and the main reception phone number. “Anyhow, I’m okay. Sweetpea’s dad and I have some things to discuss. I’ll let you know more when we’ve sorted it out.” She paused. “Call me, okay?”
She hung up. Hope could be so exhausting.
She stripped down for a much-needed bath, leaving her laundry for housekeeping hanging in a plastic bag from the doorknob of the suite. As she sank into the blissfully hot water, she thought about Riley. He’d looked yummy in that tux, albeit tense. Not surprising after everything that’d happened tonight.
Still, that wasn’t any excuse for his high-handedness. She would have to watch out for that. She wouldn’t let him intimidate her into any kind of arrangement that didn’t benefit the baby. She needed money, of course, but she’d prefer a father for Sweetpea, too. Preferably one who wouldn’t dictate how she was going to run her life.
Don’t leave your room.
She gazed around her gilded surroundings. It could be worse, she supposed—being trapped in a luxury hotel was hardly torture. Even so, she felt like the fox in a hunt, escaping into the woods with baying hounds closing in around her.
Whatever it takes, she reminded herself, and sank deeper into the tub.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_101abf86-ff0e-5db0-a4f4-dbff226a8928)
“SO THE BABY’S YOURS?”
Riley’s fingers tightened around his tumbler of Scotch, his mind full of dark thoughts even though he was smiling broadly for the guests at the after party. He couldn’t give the impression that he hadn’t enjoyed his own movie, even though he’d barely seen any of it. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”
His mother snatched the drink out of his hand. “If there is a baby, you shouldn’t be drinking.”
“Mom—” He glanced around to see if anyone had heard. He bent forward and spoke directly into her ear. “Don’t use the B word around here. Someone’s bound to hear. This is how rumors get started.”
“So it’s not yours?”
He sighed. “The timing is right.”
“And you and she...?” She made vague motions with her hands, but the action implied was clear.
“For Christ’s sake...” He refused to discuss his sex life with his mother.
Fortunately they were interrupted by a group of fans Sam had led over—members of his official fan club, apparently. He grinned and took photos, introduced his mother and made small talk. The women, ranging between nineteen and midfifties, giggled and beamed and spoke directly to his mother, praising her for raising such a talented son. His mother always got a kick out of his fans. Sam finally made excuses and they moved off.
“You’re getting better at this whole human-interaction thing,” Sam said. “You even smiled like you’re supposed to.”
He rolled his eyes. “This bunch wasn’t as bad as the last group you brought over. One of those girls was so nervous she was sweating through her shirt.”
“Can you blame her? She was meeting a big Hollywood star.”
“She was meeting a human being who happened to be in a couple of movies she liked. She gets more out of her mail carrier, but you don’t see her fawning over him.”
“Don’t be such a grouch. No one wants to know how human you are. Speaking of which—” she turned serious “—if anyone asks, you offered your limo to a fan who was having a medical emergency. We escorted her from the theater and dropped her off at the nearest hospital, but she was feeling much better when we left her at the ER.”
“Won’t someone follow up on that?”
“The hospital’s not accountable if a patient walks out without checking in at reception. The world will assume she was embarrassed and slunk off after we drove away.”
Riley smirked. “You should write fiction.”
“I do PR. It’s nearly the same thing.” She opened a notebook. “Did you get a chance to talk to her yet?”
“Not really. She’s at the hotel. I’m putting her up till we figure things out.”
Sam shook her head. “We can’t let her blab her story to the world. It could seriously affect your career momentum.”
“I hardly think that’s the issue here,” Winnie put in. “Not if there’s a ba—complication involved.” She made a face, obviously disliking the word.
Sam’s pointed face froze in that emotionless mask she wore when she was thinking, plotting, calculating. Riley figured she could probably solve global warming with that intensity if she put her mind to it. She blinked her dark eyes rapidly as she surfaced from her fugue. “All right. Tomorrow morning, before you head to the circuit, we’ll start some processes.”
“Processes?”
She lowered her voice. “Tests.”
Winnie started. “Can they do that while the ba—complica—” She huffed and said lowly, “No, it’s a baby, I’m not calling it anything else. Can they safely do tests while it’s still in the womb?”
“I’m pretty sure. I’ll find out. I know a doctor who’s discreet.” Riley swallowed thickly, wondering when and how often Sam had this discreet doctor come around for her clients. She shot Riley a serious look. “I don’t know what your past with this girl is, and right now I don’t care. But until we have confirmation on whether it’s yours, don’t make any promises. Do you understand?”
He nodded stiffly. He knew she meant well, but he resented that Sam was handling what should have been his private affair. She glided away on her deadly heels like a wraith on a mission. Riley felt bad that she had to deal with this new crisis on top of handling Juliette’s needs. Then again, Sam seemed to thrive when besieged. And she was well paid.
“You didn’t tell Sam that you and...” His mother left her inquiry dangling.
“Katherine,” he supplied.
“That you and Katherine have a history.”
“You heard her, Mom. No promises until we know for sure.”
“And then what?”
“Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it.”
“And if it’s not yours?”
He clenched his jaw. He wasn’t about to admit that he’d already accepted that the baby was his—not as an absolute truth, but as a precaution he could prepare for. He could plan around such a crisis. But if the baby wasn’t his... “Then, that’s something she’ll have to deal with.”
Winnie’s face puckered. “But what about the baby?”
“Not my problem.” Not if it wasn’t his.
Privately he hoped it was. A child didn’t deserve to be left struggling for survival. But he didn’t want to be roped into caring too much, either.
As for Kat... Well, he could only pray she wasn’t a gold-digging fame monster.
* * *
THE PHONE’S EAR-SHATTERING warble startled Kat out of a strange dream where she was being buried beneath a mountain of human fireflies. She groped for the handset and croaked, “Hello?”
“Are you awake?”
She turned over slowly, rubbing her eyes and focusing on the bedside clock. “It’s seven in the morning.”
“Yes, it is.” Riley’s voice sounded rough. She’d assumed he would stay out late and sleep in this morning, giving her a chance to catch up on some much-needed rest. No such luck. Apart from the usual pregnancy fatigue, the baby had tumbled and kicked all night, as if it was telling her to keep moving, keep looking for that new adventure, a new home.
No, she thought firmly. Home is where you can grow up and have a normal childhood. Home is where you’ll get to make friends for life and go to school.
“You still there?” Riley’s sharp tone prodded her to wakefulness.
“Yeah.”
“Good. I’ll be down in twenty minutes. We need to talk.” He hung up.
She groggily got up, brushed her teeth and fixed her hair as best as she could. There was nothing she could do about makeup, since she’d carried none of her toiletries with her to the premiere. She told herself it didn’t matter anyway, that looking good for Riley this morning would not help Sweetpea’s cause.
Then she remembered her clothes. The concierge informed her they wouldn’t be ready until eight this morning. Fantastic. At least she’d kept her bra and underwear.
She bundled the robe around her tightly. Despite how plush and voluminous it was, she still felt naked, especially when Riley knocked. She drew in a breath, gathered her dignity and opened the door.
The glacial shine in Riley’s eyes fractured briefly. His light brown hair—it’d been blond when she’d first met him—was mussed in that way only a Hollywood star like him seemed capable of pulling off. Beneath his fashionable scruff, faint lines of displeasure bracketed his firmly set lips. His black T-shirt and gray jeans reflected his mood.
“You’re not dressed.”
Good morning to you, too. She hoped Sweetpea inherited her manners. “And I won’t be until I get my clothes back from housekeeping.”
“I was going to take you to breakfast.”
“I thought you didn’t want me out in public.”
“I mean upstairs in my suite. With my mother.”
She spread her hands. “Well, unless you want me half naked...”
He forked his fingers through his hair, pulling his scalp back in that motion that among men seemed to mean “stay with me, hair, no use falling out over this.” Posed as he was, she admired his toned arms, the flatness of his abs and his deep chest stretching his T-shirt. Even with those shadows under his eyes, the man was a walking photo shoot.
She yanked her gaze away. “Nothing going your way lately, huh?” she asked wryly, heading back into the room. If she had to face him, she would have a cup of tea first, even if it was bad hotel room tea. “Must be so tough, having your entire life turned upside down. I wouldn’t know what that was like at all.”
“Hey, I never expected to see you again. And showing up at my biggest movie release and announcing you’re pregnant in front of the whole world—”
