by Diane Saxon
Change they had.
She leaned out of the car window and scanned the vast array of fields, able to see for miles over the rolling Shropshire plains.
She didn’t know exactly where he was filming or staying, but it couldn’t be difficult to find out. The place was probably in a furor if she cared to look close enough. It’s what she intended to do. Track him down.
She pacified herself with the thought that at least he wanted to share. He was only asking for visitation rights. He hadn’t said he wanted to take Ryan away from her. Not yet, but the paparazzi had feeding frenzies, and she hoped to God he wouldn’t be influenced by them, pressured into trying to take his son. The son he hadn’t even attempted to see yet.
She was going to have to find him. Glancing at her watch, she sucked air in through her teeth and tapped the steering wheel. Just not today. She had to get back home for her son coming in from school. Putting her car in gear, she gave one final glance across the landscape before she made her way home.
Ryan was hurt. A confused little boy. It had been five days since Mac had descended upon them. Since then, no contact. Nothing. Apart from the lawyer’s letter, which she folded and slipped back into her jeans pocket as Ryan came in from school, his backpack dragging on the floor as his feet scuffed.
“No one believes me.” His bottom lip poked out. His black eyes, framed with thick, sooty lashes, looked at her in abject misery, and her heart ached for him. “The teacher told me not to lie.” The ache stuttered to a halt, turned to mild irritation. “She said it was bad to lie, and I should be old enough to know better than to encourage my classmates to believe in a fantasy world.” Irritation evolved into annoyance as she smiled, ran a hand over his hair, gritted her teeth, and offered him a piece of chocolate cake.
Distracted momentarily, he scooped it up, pushed it into his mouth, and spoke around it as she rolled her eyes.
“Jason said I was talking bollocks!”
She offered him a tissue to wipe his mouth.
“Well, Jason would, sweetie, but it’s not a word we use in this house.” Not within earshot anyway.
“I know. He’s a little sod!”
She almost choked. That was a new one for her, but her son appeared to be sucking in swear words at the moment. She wasn’t sure she could directly blame Mac, but bloody hell, cursing seemed to be more prolific in their household than it had been prior to his visit. Even her father had issued the odd blasphemy in front of her. In fact, it was probably where that latest one came from.
“Mrs. Todd made me stay in at lunchtime, said I had to learn the difference between f…f…fantasy and umm…” He rolled his eyes, thinking of the word. “Reality.”
Her jaw ached as she plastered on a smile for her son. “Don’t speak with your mouth full, Ryan. Drink your milk.”
She knew it wasn’t the done thing to bludgeon a teacher, but she was sorely tempted. Had the woman taken him aside, spoken to him? Tried to understand why he was telling people a movie star was his father? She’d never been particularly possessive before, but bloody Mac was making her neurotic. It wasn’t the teacher who needed bludgeoning but bloody Cormack Blunt.
She ran a hand over her weary eyes.
“I’ll speak with Mrs. Todd tomorrow, let her know the situation. I’ll put things straight.”
She was going to have to see Mac as soon as possible. Now, in fact. She glanced at her watch. It would be impossible; her father wasn’t home, and she could hardly drag Ryan with her. Watching the live burial of his newfound father was probably not in the top ten things you should allow your child to witness.
Bloody man.
“Mum, don’t forget I’m going to Chester Zoo tomorrow. We have to be at school at eight. I need a packed lunch.”
“Oh I’d forgotten, sweetie. It’ll be a lovely day. I’ll ring Mrs. Todd on Thursday. It’ll be easier to speak with her then.” Great, she had forgotten, but there was bread in the freezer and chicken in the fridge. She could drop him off at eight. It would give her plenty of time to go stalk a movie star.
* * * *
He was probably still asleep; after all, he was a movie star, a…what was it? A superhero. Some superhero, she thought as she sneaked around the static trailers. It hadn’t been very difficult to find the movie set; you could see them for miles. Those flat Shropshire plains she perused yesterday had hardly done much to disguise dozens of static trailers.
Mr. Blunt, however, proved a little more difficult to track down. Unfortunately, hotels weren’t in the habit of telling young women whether or not mega movie stars were in residence.
It was easier to go to the set and loiter until he appeared. It couldn’t be difficult; in fact, it was Mac who had taught her how.
The last time she’d sneaked around a film set, she’d been eighteen. She’d had to run four miles across the fields to get there because she hadn’t had a car. Most of the time it had been easier for Mac to get away. He’d been twenty-one with a driving license and turned up in a different car each time. She smiled as she thought he’d probably boosted them back then. He’d hardly been a star. He’d had some small support part which the producers had suddenly expanded halfway through the film as they’d realized he had more than just a little potential, together with a leading lady who had taken a shine to him.
It wasn’t so easy any more, she thought as she climbed between the strands of barbed wire, feeling the pinch of it as it caught the back of her shirt. Holding her breath, she waited a moment and then dipped down, her face almost touching the bottom wire. It hadn’t seemed such a big deal years ago; it had been exciting. Now, she wondered what would happen if she got caught. Or if pictures of her shimmying underneath security fencing to get to the hunk were published all over the local newspapers. She could just see the headlines now: LOCAL VET STALKS CORMACK BLUNT—SCALPEL AT THE READY!
Chuckling to herself, she wondered what her clients would think. It would probably bring in even more. Being a vet, she got to see the quirkier side of human nature. Just yesterday a woman brought her eighteen-week-old golden retriever puppy in for the fourth time. She thought he might have hurt himself when he took a flying leap off her back patio steps and seemed to be limping. She was almost as concerned Zoe might think she had Munchausen by proxy as she was about the puppy having an injury. Smiling, Zoe wondered if you would confess to it if you actually had it.
Most of her clients would probably take it in their stride if they thought she was the ex-lover of a Hollywood star. Half her clients wouldn’t know who he was. Being a farmer was hard work with long hours, and her clientele were mainly farmers.
She looked for the biggest trailer, bearing in mind Mac’s size and the inevitable size of his ego, and it crossed her mind most of her clients would wonder where she found the gall to stalk a movie star. But it had to be done. For Ryan’s sake. She could only hope Mac would greet her in a civil manner and not have her escorted off campus the moment he spotted her and have his lawyers issue her with an injunction order to stop stalking.
She figured on the huge, pale green trailer. As she approached, the door was flung open and a tall, rangy cowboy stepped out, speaking over his shoulder. The left side of his face was ravaged with scars, and Zoe could only be grateful he was speaking at the time, otherwise he would have heard her shocked inhalation of breath.
“I know you hate fucking heights, but it’s my job to throw you off them!”
He turned back, his piercing blue eyes pinning her to the spot, but she refused to flinch. She was a vet; she’d seen worse things done to animals.
His damaged left eyebrow rose in surprise. He was obviously used to dealing with a variety of reactions from people; she could only hope she managed to look composed.
She cleared her throat and tried for a natural smile.
“Do you know where Mac is? Um sorry, Cormack…Blunt?”
“Are you sure you know who you’re looking for?” His voice was gruff and aggressive.
�
�Yes.” She drew herself up. He may be damaged, but he wasn’t injured. She remembered she was supposed to seem as if she belonged there wandering around a film set instead of looking like she was hunting down a film star. “Cormack Blunt.” She enunciated clearly in case the young American didn’t understand who she had asked for.
“Sure, honey. He’s inside. Quaking in his boat-size boots.” His lopsided grin gave her a moment’s pause as he raked his gaze down her body. “I bet my next paycheck you didn’t come through the security gates.”
Offering him a bright smile, she opened her mouth to deny it, but he flicked his hand in the direction of the door. “Go on in. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to have a female visit him in his trailer. He might even be grateful for the distraction.” His smile was quick and feral as he loped off in the opposite direction.
“Mac?” She poked her head around the door. He was slumped in a seat with his head between his knees; she could hear him pulling in breaths, deep and even. Disturbed, she stepped forward.
“Are you okay?”
His head shot up, and he took a moment to glower at her before he dropped it between his knees again.
Concerned, she sidled in and kneeled at his feet. He looked so sick, a horrible shade of green, and as he pulled his head up to stare at her, she could see the beads of sweat covering his top lip, hear him sucking air in through his teeth and blowing it back out again through pursed lips as though he was trying not to panic.
“What’s wrong?”
His beautiful, dark brown eyes were stricken. Her heart shuddered with fear, and she placed her hand on his knee as sympathy oozed.
“They’re going to throw me off the top of a cooling tower.”
“Oh my God, why?” Her heart played treble time, and she shuffled closer, her hand coming up to soothe his shoulder as his anguished eyes appealed to her.
“So they can film it.”
She almost heard the screech of brakes inside her head as her heart staggered around in her chest in confusion, before it had the decency to return to normal. She removed her hand and sat back on her haunches, not knowing who to feel more exasperated at—him for being pathetic, or her for falling for it. She shook her head.
“I would imagine they’re going to pay you quite handsomely to do it.” She folded her arms across her chest as all traces of compassion evaporated.
His gorgeous mouth turned sullen at the tone of her voice. His dark eyes narrowed at her, hardened. “Ten million.”
“To jump off a freaking tower?” She gave his leg a resounding slap and almost apologized as his mouth dropped open and his eyes widened at her familiarity. She was fairly certain not many people slapped Cormack Blunt these days, and she’d even surprised herself, but she still had to know. “They’re going to pay you ten million pounds to jump off a tower?”
“Dollars. It’s less than pounds. And I’m not jumping; they’re going to throw me off!” He straightened up, looked a little less green as his irritation with her brought his color flooding back.
“Well, I suppose it’s what happens when you’re a superhero.” She couldn’t help the waspishness creeping into her voice. It was, after all, his job. His luxurious job. In any case, they’d probably have a stunt man do it for him; he probably only had to hang off the edge for a moment.
“Action hero. There’s a difference.”
“What’s that, then?” She smiled sweetly at him and blinked slowly.
“Action heroes don’t fly.”
“Oh.” She stared at him in silence and then clucked her tongue and gave a quick, evil grin. “Could be a handy gift to have right now.”
“Jeez, Zoe. Don’t joke about it; you surely remember I hate heights.”
She remembered. He hadn’t been able to stand on the edge of Major’s Leap without nearly fainting; his tall frame would sway dangerously as he stared transfixed straight down the precipice. She shrugged; her voice when she replied was deceptively soft. “I can’t remember. It’s a long time ago.”
They stared at each other for a long moment. He knew she was lying; she could see it in his eyes. She gulped and let her gaze slide away from his.
“I need to talk to you about Ryan.”
“Does Security know you’re here?”
“Of course they do. What do you think? I’d crawl through barbed-wire fencing to get to you?” She smirked, thinking he had no idea how truthful it was, and now she was quite happily going to hit him with a lie. “They told me where to find you. The guy with the bright blue eyes told me to come straight in.”
“Flynn. He’s the one going to throw me off the cooling tower.”
“Do they pay him well?”
“Probably as much as me, but if the rope doesn’t hold, he’s not the one to fall to an ugly death.”
She patted his knee, couldn’t hold back the wicked smile, and wondered what it felt like to be paid to push Mac to his death. She could offer to do it for free. Tempting.
She looked into his pained face and wondered if he was just trying to distract her from the real issue here. He hadn’t tried very hard, and already it was all about him. Bloody actor. Her voice came out clipped, and she spoke to him like he was an errant schoolboy.
“Mac. We need to talk about Ryan.”
“I’m a little preoccupied here. I’m about to fall to my death.”
“Don’t be stupid. You’re going to be pushed. This is more important.” His eyes widened, and he sat back with a loud huff. Why she ever thought she would get any sense out of an actor, she had no idea. “Get over yourself.” She’d been dying to use Ryan’s new phrase without sounding like a kid. “You’re not going to die. You’re an actor. Actors don’t simply hurtle to their deaths on an everyday basis.”
“They do if they’re pushed.”
“Stop it. This is not about you. The guy out there is probably very highly trained to carry out his job. His priority is to keep you from plummeting to your death.” Unable to resist making him turn a little greener, she snorted. “Unless they want to save ten million on the film budget, of course.”
When he simply closed his eyes, she sighed, reached out, and touched his knee again. Strangely, touching him seemed to come naturally. “Look, Mac, you need to come and see him. He’s confused and he needs reassurance it’s him you want to see and you’re not simply trying to punish me.”
“Why would he think that?” He looked genuinely baffled.
“Because you were angry. Because you didn’t get over your anger while you were there, and because Ryan doesn’t really understand volatile emotions, Mac. He’s been brought up in a very calm, gentle household.”
He raised both his eyebrows this time, as though he didn’t believe her.
“You haven’t even been in contact. Not even a phone call. He’s not sure if he’ll ever hear from you again. He’s not even sure if you really exist. You walked into his life, turned it upside down with your superhero”—she held up a finger to stop him as he opened his mouth to protest—“presence, and zapped back out again. Without another word.” She could feel the pressure in her head building as all her carefully planned speech fell by the wayside. She thought to appeal to the better nature she was sure still resided under the guise of the actor. “He was so excited, he told all his friends, but he has no proof, no evidence, and they’re laughing at him now. Even his teacher told him not to lie when he said you’re his father. He was so proud of it, and now he feels let down.”
Although it pained her to do so, she knew she had to tell him; it was unfair to hold it back. “Mac, you’re his idol. He’s always known he looked like you. He thought it was coincidence. He’s seen every film you’ve ever been in. He grows his hair to emulate the current style you have it in for each film. He imitates your accent.”
“Why did you allow it?” He sounded weary.
“How could I discourage it? You’re everywhere, in every film. You’re a superhero.”
He sighed. “Action hero. I haven’t got
X-ray vision.”
She huffed out a breath, and his gaze tracked down to her lips, making her slightly self-conscious as he stared, sending tingles of awareness across the back of her neck.
“This is difficult for him to deal with, Mac.”
“It’s difficult for me too.”
“You’re an adult.” She glanced at his stunning, petulant face. “I think.”
“The lawyers told me I wasn’t to contact you or him until they had it sorted out. Official channels, I think they called it.”
Silence filled the small trailer as he crossed his arms over his vast chest and chewed the inside of his cheek. Instead of pushing him, she let him think for a moment. She deliberately kept her eyes from straying this time, but when he moved, all those lush muscles rippled enticingly, and a desperate longing shuddered through her. Dragging her concentration back, she tilted her head, looked him in the eye, and made another appeal.
“You don’t need a lawyer, Mac. If you want to see Ryan, you can. Anytime.”
“I want to prove he’s mine.”
“You know he’s yours. It’s pretty damned obvious he’s yours.”
“Not to the goddamned press it’s not. They’ll want proof.”
“Not today. Let’s just see how it goes. Please.”
He huffed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“I’ll send my car for him tomorrow. Then I don’t have to see you.”
The barb hit just where it was intended. She sucked in a breath, released it slowly, and held on to the thought this was about Ryan and his father. She was the adult, and despite the painful thrumming in her heart, she would get over it. After all, there was never going to be a relationship between her and Mac, but the contact he wanted with Ryan still had to be on the right terms. Gritting her teeth, she shook her head.
“I’d rather you came yourself. You might be his idol, but you are still a stranger. Spend some time with him where he feels safe, in a familiar environment.” At his sideways look she continued. “I’ll keep out of your way. Dad will be there instead of me.”