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Red Carpet Redemption
Yahrah St. John
He’s Hollywood’s hottest heartthrob…and her son’s secret father. A PR stunt to improve actor Dane Stewart’s image backfires when it reveals he’s a dad. And the press is about to pounce. Having the child’s mother act as his girlfriend is pure damage control…except their chemistry is hotter than any love scene!
In the spotlight’s glare, a bombshell drops…
He’s Hollywood’s hottest heartthrob…and her son’s secret father.
A PR stunt backfires when it reveals actor Dane Stewart’s a dad. As a sperm donor, he’s never met single mom Iris Turner, but they’re now connected through their child. And the press is about to pounce. Having Iris act as his girlfriend is pure damage control…except their chemistry is hotter than any love scene. But is a future together just a Cinderella fantasy?
YAHRAH ST. JOHN is the author of thirty-one books and one deliciously sinful anthology. When she’s not at home crafting one of her spicy romances with compelling heroes and feisty heroines with a dash of family drama, she is gourmet cooking or travelling the globe seeking out her next adventure. St. John is a member of Romance Writers of America. Visit www.yahrahstjohn.com (http://www.yahrahstjohn.com) for more information.
Also by Yahrah St. John (#ub774ad41-56f8-50f6-b2ad-2480e6c4d960)
At the CEO’s Pleasure
His Marriage Demand
Cappuccino Kisses
Taming Her Tycoon
Miami After Hours
Taming Her Billionaire
His San Diego Sweetheart
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Red Carpet Redemption
Yahrah St. John
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-09288-3
RED CARPET REDEMPTION
© 2019 Yahrah Yisrael
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Note to Readers (#ub774ad41-56f8-50f6-b2ad-2480e6c4d960)
This ebook contains the following accessibility features which, if supported by your device, can be accessed via your ereader/accessibility settings:
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To my husband and best friend,
Freddie Blackman,
for helping keep me grounded.
Contents
Cover (#u38f5f438-42f8-50e8-9052-4e1aa255e943)
Back Cover Text (#u7ded0fd2-0754-5b39-ab55-c33cd6bcb9f8)
About the Author (#u94e3dd86-3f2e-5c9c-8299-8237a937313a)
Booklist (#uebb62143-3fbd-5174-b908-0b30d2e0005f)
Title Page (#ue69b1016-368a-547f-8bfd-8a4fbde0382b)
Copyright (#u3a9861b8-9687-52da-81b3-c017eaa5bfcc)
Note to Readers
Dedication (#ubf680a98-836e-5c92-9006-3249fe7e2537)
Prologue (#u6beeb44b-c0d8-5ab6-9489-29c60a8178a0)
One (#ua6f3dbd1-bb83-5600-9b44-44f9cd1035d4)
Two (#u16a69cd3-2866-5b13-a95c-a70c95056978)
Three (#u0e28ce94-7f82-5919-9d35-0b604093d25c)
Four (#u1f230b79-4943-55cf-afa6-62962b93d8e9)
Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue (#ub774ad41-56f8-50f6-b2ad-2480e6c4d960)
“We have to clean up your image, Dane,” his publicist, Whitney Hicks, informed him while they sat in his trailer in Mexico, going over Dane’s public appearances for late July. It was blazing hot and he’d come in to get out of the heat.
“It’s not my fault,” Dane Stewart responded, leaning back on the sofa and propping his legs on the sofa arm. “I had no idea Lia Montgomery was taken. I pride myself on having one relationship at a time and being a one-woman man.”
“Who according to tabloids can’t stay with one woman.”
Dane shrugged his broad shoulders. “Can I help it if a woman can’t manage to hold my attention?”
“You’re going to have to learn,” Jason Underwood replied. Jason had been his manager and agent for years. He was tall, lean and always in a suit. “Negative publicity could damage your image as America’s Sexiest Man Alive.”
“I beg to differ. I think it shows what a hot commodity I am,” Dane said with a smirk. He was thirty years old and in his prime.
“Thanks to your shenanigans, the studio wants you to do some damage control. They don’t want this kind of publicity attached to what essentially is your best acting work. You could get a best actor nomination for your latest film. Think of how this would catapult you into the stratosphere.”
It had taken Dane years of callbacks and tending bar to be in the position he was in now. He didn’t have to act in the big budget action flicks or romantic comedies anymore. Instead, his success in Hollywood had finally allowed him to choose a passion project like the film he’d just wrapped. Dane was proud of the work he’d done and didn’t appreciate the press making him out to be some Neanderthal who couldn’t keep it in his pants.
“Although I think this is all a load of hogwash,” Dane responded, “I agree now isn’t the most convenient time for this to blow up. I want my work to define me, not what I do behind closed doors.”
“Good. Then you’ll agree to the publicity I have scheduled?” Whitney inquired.
Dane trained his eyes on her. “Depends on what it is.”
“You’ll like this one.” Whitney reached for the remote to turn on the television and start a recording.
Dane watched as a local newscaster talked about a young boy, six-year-old Jayden Turner, who was in need of a bone marrow transplant. The camera panned to the cute boy with a mop of curly hair and dark brown eyes. The doctor talked about Jayden’s acute lymphocytic leukemia in which the bone marrow made too many white blood cells. He went on to say the best form of treatment was a bone marrow transplant. Then the camera zoomed in on Jayden’s mother, Iris Turner, a tall, slender woman with a beautiful smile.
Iris pleaded with the public to register to have their bone marrow screened. Dane immediately sat upright and listened to her impassioned plea. He admired her quiet strength. There was a tranquility to her he was drawn to, even though she wasn’t a dazzling beauty like many of the models and actresses he usually dated.
“Let me guess. You want me to be screened?” Dane asked over the hum of the television.
Whitney beamed. “Great minds think alike.” She walked toward him and he scooted aside, making room for her. “This is exactly the kind of positive press you need.”
“I won’t make a mockery of what that mother is going through,” Dane stated vehemently.
“And we’re not asking you to,” Jason chimed in. “Just a photo op after the screening. Your involvement will be a huge help raising awareness for Jayden’s cause.”
Dane inhaled deeply, staring at the screen. The mother was staring back at him and he could see how desperate she was for a chance to save her son’s life. “I’ll do it.”
Whitney grinned. “I’m glad that didn’t take too much convincing. Now here are my other ideas.”
Dane listened as Whitney rattled off several other appearances, including late-night television, a morning talk show and a stop at the local food bank, but all he could see was the haunting eyes of Iris Turner. Dane hoped his presence at the hospital wouldn’t disrupt her and Jayden’s life.
One (#ub774ad41-56f8-50f6-b2ad-2480e6c4d960)
Iris Turner was praying for a miracle. She didn’t know when or in what form it would come, but she knew God wouldn’t be so cruel as to take away the precious gift He’d given her six years ago. Her son, Jayden.
“Do you think it will help?” her mother, Carolyn, asked as Iris sat at her parents’ kitchen table, wringing her hands. It had been several days since the news story about Jayden had aired, and there was still no bone marrow match.
“I don’t know. I hope so.” Iris glanced down the hall to where her father and Jayden were playing in the living room. To the outside world, he looked like a normal kid; now all of Los Angeles knew how sick he was.
“It will.” Her mother reached across the short distance to squeeze her hand.
Her family had thought Iris had lost her mind when she’d decided to become a single mom. Her mother had discouraged Iris, telling her Mr. Right would come along one day, but Iris had known it wasn’t true. She was damaged goods and no man would want to sleep with her—let alone make a baby—if he saw her body in the dark.
Eight years ago, when she was twenty, she’d gotten mixed up with the wrong crowd, dating a musician who liked to drink and have fun. One night, he’d had a little too much fun and wrapped his car around a tree with Iris in it. She’d suffered severe burns to her arms and thighs. Iris had lost count of the reconstructive surgeries she’d had since then to help with the disfigurement. Her arms had been transformed almost back to their original state, but after many painful procedures, Iris had finally given up and accepted she wouldn’t be completely healed.
She’d attempted dating, but once the evenings had become intimate, men had shuddered, making a speedy departure. Some were more direct; one outright told her she was a monster. Iris hadn’t dated since.
“Let’s not dwell on it.” Her mother went over to the stove and removed the kettle she’d turned on earlier. “How about a cup of tea?”
“Sounds great, Mom.” Iris offered a smile. Her mother was not only her best friend but an excellent cook and homemaker. She’d always been there when Iris needed a shoulder to cry on or someone to accompany her to the endless medical treatments. Iris had wanted to be just like her, and part of that was having a child of her own to love and being the best mom she could be like her mother.
Six years ago, she’d decided the only way she’d become a mother was through artificial insemination. And it had worked! She’d become pregnant on the first try. Nine months later, she’d given birth to a beautiful baby boy. Recently, she’d learned her precious boy had a rare leukemia that couldn’t be treated with chemotherapy alone. The doctor had suggested that a bone marrow transplant could be Jayden’s best chance.
