Cross My Heart

by Celeste O. Norfleet

  “It was worse than bad. It was a disaster. Another perfectly good fantasy shot down by reality. I may have to go back to square one and start looking for another foundation.”

  “Or maybe not,” Nikita added, looking behind her sister and seeing a man she thought looked a lot like David Montgomery getting out of a car down the street and immediately being besieged by autograph seekers. “Trust me…”

  Nikita halted Natalia’s complaint with her hand. “Nothing worth having ever comes easy—you know that. Like, remember when you decided you were ready to start a family? You did everything imaginable to prepare for it. It wasn’t easy, but you did it and now you have two beautiful boys. So you had a problem yesterday. Since when have you ever walked away from a problem? You have a problem—handle it.”

  “Me, no, it wasn’t me. It was him. The man’s got an ego on steroids. I get it that he’s a movie star and all, but helping those less fortunate is what he’s supposed to be known for. All I know is that the man we’ve read about as being a humanitarian and a philanthropist and the man I met yesterday were two completely different guys.”

  “Maybe that’s how he works. It’s his foundation. Maybe they do things differently.”

  “Not that differently,” Natalia said, looking across the street and waving at a neighbor. The outside café was perfectly located on the tree-lined main thoroughfare through town. It was surrounded by a designer boutique on one side and a bookstore on the other and had excellent foot traffic.

  Nikita turned and waved, as well, then turned back to her sister and glanced over her shoulder. She was right. It was David Montgomery and he was coming right toward them. “I don’t know, Natalia, something tells me this isn’t over just yet. You can still turn this around.”

  “Probably, if I could meet with him again, but after yesterday, he’s probably back on the West Coast or maybe in the Far East by now.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that if I were you,” Nikita said with a knowing smile.

  Nikita glanced over her sister’s shoulder again, as David Montgomery was coming right toward them. He paused for a quick photo with a fan, but kept his eye on their table.

  “I refuse to placate his pathetically delicate movie-star ego. Niki, when I said it didn’t go well, that’s an understatement. The man is arrogant and obviously believes his own hype and…”

  “…and you’re short-tempered and have tunnel vision when it comes to helping others and getting your center funded,” Nikita continued for her.

  “Fine, okay, I admit it,” Natalia confessed reluctantly. “I guess my behavior wasn’t completely professional, either. After all, I kind of suggested that he was an overmedicated, insane nutcase to his face. Maybe not exactly the best script for opening dialogue.”

  “Actually, you suggested that I was either overmedicated, rude or crazy. Good afternoon, ladies.”

  Nikita smiled as Natalia turned and looked up to see David standing right beside their table. “Hi. David Montgomery,” he said, beaming that famous smile at Nikita as he reached out to shake her hand. She took his hand and shook politely while still amused by her sister’s stunned expression.

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Nikita Coles, and I believe you’ve already met my sister Natalia.”

  “Yes, we have met. It’s a pleasure to see you again, Ms. Coles. I hope your son is well. Nothing too serious?”

  “He’s good. Thanks for asking.”

  “May I join you, ladies?”

  “Actually, Mr. Montgomery, I was just about to head inside,” Nikita said. Natalia’s expression instantly changed. She frowned at her sister, giving her the Don’t leave me eye.

  “Please, call me David,” he said.

  Nikita nodded. “David it is. I need to get back inside. I have a few cakes in the oven. So please take my seat.”

  “Mmm, I wondered what smelled so good. I presume that this is your place?” He turned, looking up at the brick-front bakery and awning. The sign above read Nikita’s Place.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “How’s the food here?” he asked, directing the question to Nikita but looking at Natalia.

  “Excellent,” Niki responded.

  “High praise,” David said, glancing her way, then turning to smile at Natalia.

  “It’s well worth it,” Natalia added.

  “How about if I send you out a few samples and you can judge for yourself?” Nikita said.

  “That sounds awesome, but unfortunately I can’t stay long,” he said, focusing his attention on Natalia again.

  “I’ll send out the samples. You can take them with you,” Nikita said.

  “Now that I’d appreciate,” he said.

  Just then a fan came up and asked for his autograph, and he graciously obliged, as two others bravely walked up to ask for candid photos.

  While he was distracted, Nikita leaned toward her sister’s ear, speaking quietly. “Is it me or is he having a hard time taking his eyes off you? The vibe is seriously there.”

  “You’ve been in the hot kitchen too long. The man’s a mega movie star. He can get any woman he wants. I’m a social worker and the mother of two, not exactly the sexy, seductress type.”

  Nikita shook her head, knowing better. Nikita knew a thing or two about attraction and, pheromones aside, David Montgomery was definitely checking her sister out. “Okay, I’ll be right back,” Nikita said, then stood and winked at her sister before hurrying inside. “May I?”

  “Of course. Have a seat.”

  He sat down and smiled, waiting for her to speak first. He still wasn’t satisfied that she was completely unaware of their connection. She was just about to speak when another young fan came up to the table and asked for an autograph. He signed the napkin and was asked to pose for a photo with him. David readily agreed and asked Natalia to take the picture. She did, and the young kid ran off proudly, holding tight to his new treasure.

  “I’ll bet that made his day,” Natalia said without thinking.

  “I hope it did. If it wasn’t for him and others like him, I’d be out of a job.”

  “So you take this Hollywood thing very seriously.”

  “No, definitely not the Hollywood thing. I don’t get swept up by the nonsense—that’s all transitory. But I do take the responsibility of affecting other people’s lives very seriously. I know that when I do even the simplest thing it can change a person’s perception not only of me, but of the next actor and even the way they feel about themselves,” he said with gravity, as if admonishing her for being superficial.

  She nodded. “That’s commendable. Few people seem to take responsibility for their actions these days.”

  “Do you?” he asked, already presuming to know the answer.

  She looked into his eyes. They betrayed nothing, but there was something he wasn’t saying. “Take responsibility, yes. I like to think I do.” She paused then continued. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

  “Like what?” he offered.

  “That’s why I’m asking. It seems to me that you have something on your mind, something other than the foundation grant I applied for. If you do, and it concerns me or the center, I’d like to know what it is.” He relaxed back in the wicker chair and smiled without responding. A few seconds of wordless silence passed. “I believe the ball’s back in your court.”

  He laughed, smiled and nodded. “You’re a very interesting woman. I like that. You’re going to be fun.”

  “What does that mean?” she asked.

  “It means that I seldom meet people open enough to tell me exactly what they think. You’re determined and very self-assured, and you seem to know exactly what you want.”

  “I wasn’t fishing for compliments,” she said.

  “They weren’t compliments. They were facts.”

  She looked at him, debating, and then she nodded once. “Thank you. You want to tell me the truth now?”

  “Which truth?” he asked.

  “T
he one that concerns me,” she said.

  “Later,” he said simply.

  “Now,” she insisted.

  He smiled again. “You are persistent, aren’t you?”

  “Oh, if you only knew,” she said. Just then a fan came up and asked for an autograph. He obliged while she sat waiting. She had to admit that their exchange was entertaining. They were both apparently strong-willed. He turned back to her. “So where do we go from here?” she asked.

  “I read over your proposal last night. Your center is very promising. You have some inspired and inspiring ideas.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “Not at all. On the contrary, I’m extremely impressed.” A waitress came out of the bakery with a clear take-out box filled with a variety of miniature pastries. She smiled deliriously, then placed a small shopping bag on the table and turned to leave. David called her back, thanked her and then gave her a very generous tip. “As I was saying, I’m impressed. I’d like to continue this conversation, but unfortunately I have a meeting. Could you stop by my hotel this evening so we can talk? I assure you my intentions are honorable and strictly professional.”

  She considered his offer a moment and then agreed. “Later this afternoon would be best for me. I already have plans this evening.”

  “A hot date?” he asked teasingly with a sly grin on his face.

  “Yes, something like that,” she said, smiling happily.

  He continued grinning, but the tenseness pulling at his insides was troubling. Few could discern the convoluted range of emotions churning within him. He wasn’t sure why her comment upset him so. It had never occurred to him that she was seeing someone. “Fine,” he said tensely. “Keys Gateway Hotel. Four o’clock okay with you?”

  She stood and nodded. “I’ll see you at four.”

  David watched her leave, then he headed back to his hotel. It was still early and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with his hordes of fans today. On the red carpet, at a movie premiere, on the set—sure, he’d do the Hollywood star thing. Even when he was out eating dinner, with a mouthful of tiramisu, he’d smile graciously and sign whatever piece of nonsense he’d been given. Most days he was cool with it; he even enjoyed it. Seeing admiring faces, accepting over-the-top accolades, being treated like royalty—hey, it was all part of the job. He always figured that he didn’t get paid just to act; handling the promotion end of the business with finesse sent his income into the double-digit millions.

  So it was all well and good being attacked by paparazzi and photo hounds, but when it was his personal time, he expected to fade into the background. High hopes indeed, since his soaring career had long since dictated otherwise. He was spotted everywhere he went, and it was close to a miracle that he’d lasted this long in the Key West area without being noticed. But he knew it wouldn’t last. Late yesterday after he had cleaned up and changed his clothes at the docks, he noted that someone had taken a picture. Two hours later his publicist informed him that the photo was now circulating for purchase by local newspapers and the tabloids.

  He tipped his cap lower, covered it with his hood, squared his shoulders and stalked briskly through the large hotel lobby. He avoided eye contact, knowing that people stared, wondering what a man dressed like a bum off the street was doing in the most expensive hotel in Key West. He expected security to stop him, but fortunately no one did, which was fine with him. He wasn’t in the mood for drama.

  He strolled to the elevator bank but kept going, finding the stairway, a much more private way up to his suite. Climbing fifteen flights of stairs wasn’t much of a workout, but he needed the stress reducer. When he was working on set, he kept himself in peak condition. He had a personal trainer who tortured him daily, so to him this was merely a warm-up exercise.

  He got to his floor, opened the stairway door and glanced down the hall in both directions. It was clear. He strode two doors down and knocked. The door opened almost instantly.

  “Hey,” Pamela said as she waved before returning her focus to her PDA and the heated phone conversation she was having. David brushed past her and walked into the suite. He headed to the open balcony doors as she closed the door to the suite and went back to the makeshift office area set up in the dining room.

  He stepped out onto the balcony and looked around. From the top floor of the hotel, he could see the full, breathtaking brilliance of the Key West skyline. The expansive view was relatively flat and vibrantly colorful. The sky was crystal clear and the emerald-blue water of the Gulf of Mexico sparkled brilliantly in the distance. Any other time he would have loved to sit back, relax and enjoy the splendor of the city, but this wasn’t a pleasure trip. This was business. He moved to the balcony rail and looked over, then down. Somewhere out there was a woman who could change his life forever. She had his children and the mere thought of it made him cringe.

  It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. When he’d made the one-time donation to the sperm bank ten years ago, he was a struggling actor. He was auditioning for the lead role in a new television action drama and needed to get to New York quickly. He was twenty-two, broke and desperate, and that one momentary lapse in judgment would probably ruin everything he had worked so hard to achieve. Ten years ago, he’d gotten the role. It was the start of everything for him—seven years on television and a movie career that had skyrocketed beyond belief. Now he needed to do serious damage control and get back what once belonged to him.

  His nature was to be proactive, and not taking control made him feel stifled and useless. For the first time in a long time, his future was out of his hands. It was like being shuffled around from relative to relative when he was a child. He’d had no control then and he had none now. He hated it. He needed to do something. “Enough,” he said, slamming his fist down on the rail.

  “Morning,” Pamela said as she pulled the Bluetooth from her ear and stepped out onto the balcony. “Your agent is about to get his credit cards canceled, have his business computer hijacked and his life turned upside down. You really need to reel him in before I do.”

  David sighed heavily. This wasn’t what he needed to deal with today. “Morning,” he replied, still staring out at Key West. “What’s Lenny done now?”

  “First of all, he acts like I work for him and I most certainly do not. I’m your personal assistant—not his. He actually has a list of things he wants me to do before we get back to L.A. Like I’m actually gonna do that.”

  “I’ll talk to him,” David said, reassuring her.

  “Good. ’Cause one more of his comments about my creative investigations and he’ll be looking at life in the Middle Ages up close and personal. That means no computer, no credit cards and no digital footprint at all.”

  David smiled, knowing that Pamela was very capable of backing up her threat. She was a genius when it came to computers. As a young teen, she and his sister, Brenda, got into trouble as a result of their computer creativity. They had broken into school records, department store customer accounts and even police files. Now, as an adult, she was just plain scary when it came to computers.

  “Let me guess: dark sunglasses, baseball cap, hooded jacket pulled up, insert laughter here. Of course, you know you’re like Movie Star in Hiding 101,” Pamela said as she walked farther out onto the balcony, seeing him still completely covered up in his disguise.

  “Not in the mood today, Pam,” he said dryly.

  Hiring Brenda’s best friend, Pamela Ray, was a stroke of brilliance, but sometimes he wondered if perhaps he’d drifted across the line into lunacy instead. Pamela was part Nancy Drew, part Wonder Woman, part Einstein and part pain in the neck. She was his personal assistant and had no illusions about their relationship, since the last thing he needed was an obsessed fan working for him. Her sole ambition was to have her own business of specialized assistants, a market completely untapped, given the reality of the business world.

  Her job description was simple. Get whatever he needed, look out for whatever he missed
, keep the unwanted attention away and keep him on schedule. She was brilliant at it.

  “Seriously, is that outfit supposed to fool anybody?”

  “For your information, it worked. No one even noticed me as I walked into the hotel lobby just now. They usually only notice me when I want them to.”

  Pamela shook her head. “Why is it that movie stars think all that disguise stuff is gonna work?” she asked. “That getup draws attention to you—not the other way around. Seriously, for a man who makes his living forever in makeup and costume, you should know that. Get rid of all that stuff and you’ll just blend in with everyone else—trust me. Nobody will even notice you.”

  He coolly removed his dark sunglasses, dropped the hood and took off the cap. He turned and gave her the multimillion-dollar, heart-stopping, knee-weakening smile, dimple and all.

  She shook her head. “You’re right. Never mind.”

  Chapter 4

  Instead of going back to her office, Natalia headed in the opposite direction. Twenty minutes later, she nodded to her brother’s assistant and headed straight up to his office. This wasn’t one of her usual, impromptu, end-of-the-day social visits where they’d sit around and joke. No, she was on a mission. He’d withheld important information from her and as far as she was concerned, he’d crossed the line. And whether he knew it or not, he was going to make this right. Furious, she gave him the murderous look.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Mikhail said, seeing his sister enter his office and cross to his desk. “I didn’t know you were stopping by today.” A second later he saw the fire in her eyes. He stood instantly. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

  She dropped the newspaper Nikita had given her on her brother’s desk. He glanced down at the full-color photo of David Montgomery, as he waved and headed to his boat moored at the familiar slip. “You knew he was coming into town, you knew he was here and you didn’t tell me?” Mikhail sighed with relief, then sat down, but said nothing. “You knew I applied for his foundation’s grant. Doesn’t family loyalty mean anything to you? They’re scheduled to make their decision soon. His being here could mean that I’m a finalist for the grant, so what I want to know is this: Why didn’t you think to tell me that he’s been here for a week and a half?”