by Anna DePalo
“We’re together. We’re meant to be together!”
Nut job. Rick was in great physical shape due to his stunt work, so he wasn’t out of breath, but Mr. Fiancé was no teddy bear, either; he continued to put up a struggle.
Suddenly the trespasser wheezed. “I can’t br-breathe! Get off me. I have asthma.”
Great. Rick eased back and let one of the security guards take over while the other spoke into his radio.
Things happened slowly but methodically after that. Police were summoned by the studio’s security, and Chiara’s special fan—who’d given his name as Todd Jeffers—was led away. Eventually Rick was questioned by a police officer. Chiara materialized soon after and was similarly prodded for details by the officer’s partner.
Before the police left, Rick gleaned that Chiara’s overly enthusiastic fan would be charged with criminal trespass, disorderly conduct and harassment. Well, that’s something. But by the time Rick had finished talking about the incident to Dan, the director, Chiara had holed up in her trailer.
Rick eyed Chiara’s door, twisted his mouth in a grim line and made his way to the trailer for some answers.
He didn’t bother knocking—chances were better for a snowstorm in LA right now than for her rolling out the red carpet for him—and simply marched inside.
He came up short when he found Chiara sitting at a cozy little table, a script in front of her.
She was memorizing her lines? He expected her to be rattled, upset...
He looked around. The trailer was a double-decker, and with walnut paneling, it was swankier than his own digs, which were done in a gray monochrome and had no upper level.
When his gaze came back to rest on Chiara, she tilted her head, and said, “People weren’t sure when you tackled him whether it was a stunt, or if you were rehearsing a scene from the movie.”
“You’re welcome.” Leaning against a counter, he folded his arms, like a cop getting ready for an interrogation. He wanted answers only she could provide, and after getting into a fight with her admirer, he was going to get them. “Luckily you weren’t in your trailer when he got here.”
“I was rehearsing. We’re shooting a difficult scene.”
Rick figured that helped explain why she was sitting with a script in front of her, though he imagined her concentration was shot.
“I can only imagine the press coverage that today will get.” A horrified look crossed her face, and she closed her eyes on a shudder.
So she wasn’t as unaffected as she seemed. In fact, Rick had already dealt with suppressing the video of him tackling Jeffers. The person who’d been taping had turned out to be a visiting relative of one of the film crew. But even if those images didn’t become public or weren’t sold to the tabloids, the media would get wind of what happened from the police report and show up for Jeffers’s court hearing. Then, of course, Jeffers himself might choose to make a public statement...
“Hey, at least it’ll take attention away from your father’s latest losses at the gambling tables.” He wondered if Chiara appreciated just how close she’d come to danger. It had been dumb luck that her overly enthusiastic fan hadn’t found her earlier.
She opened her eyes and raised her head. “Yes, how can I forget about my father? How can anyone?”
“So you have a stalker.” He kept his tone mild, belying the emotions coursing through him. Damn it. Chiara was slender and a lightweight despite her mouth and bravado. His blood boiled just thinking of some jerk threatening her.
“Many celebrities have overly enthusiastic fans.” She waved her hand, and Rick could practically see her walls going up. “But my property has a security gate and cameras.”
Rick narrowed his eyes. “Have you dealt with this Todd Jeffers guy before? What kind of unstoppable fan is he? The sort who writes you pretty letters or the type who pens twisted ones?”
She shrugged. “He tried to scale my property fence once, but he was spotted by a landscaper and shooed away even before he got within view of the security cameras. I haven’t heard from him in the months since.”
So today’s guy was the same person who’d shown up at Chiara’s house once, and yeah, she wasn’t understanding the risk... Still, Rick strove for patience. “How do you know it was Jeffers at your house that day?”
She hesitated. “He wrote to me afterward to say he’d tried to see me.”
“He wrote to you about an attempted criminal trespass?” Rick let his tone drip disbelief. “Have you gotten a temporary restraining order?”
Chiara sighed. “No. He’s never been a physical threat, just a pest.”
“Just because he only tried to jump the fence doesn’t mean that’s what he’ll settle for doing in the future. There’s often an escalation with these nut jobs once they figure out that plan A isn’t working.”
Chiara raised her chin. “He’s probably a lonely, starstruck guy. Plenty of fans are.”
“Probably? I don’t deal in probabilities. Your run-of-the-mill serial killer often starts out torturing animals before moving to the big time. As I said, escalation.”
“Like A-list stars starting out in B movies?” she asked snippily.
“Right,” he said, his voice tight even as he ignored her flippant attitude. “Listen, Snow White, there are villains out there aside from the Evil Queen.”
Rick raked his fingers through his hair. He could understand why this guy was besotted with Chiara. Unfortunately Chiara herself wasn’t appreciating the gravity of the problem. They were like two trains on parallel tracks. “You’ve got a stalker. It’s time you acquired a boyfriend. Me.”
He’d been mulling things over, his mind in overdrive ever since he’d tackled Jeffers. If he pretended to be Chiara’s boyfriend, he could stick close and keep an eye on her. Maybe once this guy realized Chiara had a supposedly real boyfriend, he’d back off. Odele may have been onto a good idea.
Chiara opened and closed her mouth. “You’re not in the protection business.”
“I’m appointing myself right now. Besides, I’ve got the right background. I used to do security.” He’d worked as a guard at an office building during his college days and beyond in order to earn extra cash. He’d been a good bouncer, too. His parents had instilled the value of hard work in their children even though they’d been well-off.
Chiara slid off her seat and stood. In the confined space, she was within touching distance. “You can’t unilaterally decide to be my protector.” She spluttered as if searching for words. “I won’t agree to it.”
“You could solve two problems at once. The bad press from your father, and the issue of your stalker and needing security. Don’t quibble.”
“I’ll get a restraining order.”
He took a step forward. “Damn straight, you will.”
“So I don’t need you.”
“You need physical protection, too, unless you have seven dwarves hanging around, because a court order is just a piece of paper.” He didn’t want to think about how many news stories there’d been concerning an order of protection being violated—and someone getting hurt or killed.
She looked mutinous. “I’ll hire professional security.”
“It still won’t solve the problem of your father and distracting the press.”
Chiara threw up her hands.
“Don’t worry. I’ll always be a step behind you, like a good prince consort—I mean, bodyguard.”
“Hilarious.”
“I’ll make sure to hold an umbrella open for you in the rain,” he added solemnly.
“What’s in this for you?”
“Let’s just say I have a vested interest in the star of my next blockbuster staying safe until the end of filming. Everyone working on this movie wants to see it finished so they can get paid.”
“I thought so. Well, my answer is still no.”
He’d given her the wrong answer, and she’d responded in kind. “Do you just act contrary, or is this your best side?”
“How can you say that about the damsel in distress you helped save from a helicopter?” she asked sweetly.
“Exactly.”
They were practically nose-to-nose, except because she stood several inches shorter than his six-foot frame, it was more like nose-to-chin. But then she raised her face to a stubborn angle, and he abandoned his good intentions about keeping himself in check during this conversation.
Hell, here goes nothing.
He tugged her forward and captured her mouth. It was just as good as before, damn it. There was a little zap of electricity because they were differently charged, and then he was kissing her in earnest, opening that luscious mouth and deepening the kiss.
She smelled faintly of honeysuckle, just like Snow White ought to. He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. She was petal-soft, and he was getting hard.
After what felt like an eternity, she pushed him away.
Her chest rose and fell, and he was breathing deeply with arousal.
She touched her fingers to her lips and then shot fire at him with her eyes. “That’s twice.”
“Are we getting better? We’ve got to be convincing if we’re going to pull this off.”
“We’re not practicing scenes, but if we were, try this response on for size.” She stretched out her arm and pointed to the door of the trailer, giving him his marching orders.
It was a proverbial slap in the face, but Chiara was wrong if she thought he was backing down. “Let me know when our next scene is scheduled for filming. It might be time to throw a plate or break something. For real, not pretend.”
After this parting shot, he turned and headed to the door, almost laughing as he heard her bang something behind him.
* * *
“She doesn’t want to get extra security.” Rick ran his hand through his hair. “She’s stubborn.”
“Hmm.” Odele nodded. “And I’m her manager, so I don’t know this?”
“And reckless, too.” They were sitting in Novatus Studio’s commissary having coffee before lunchtime. Rick had asked to meet and had told Odele not to mention it to Chiara. “How long has this guy Todd been hanging around thinking he’s her special friend?” Or fiancé.
Odele shrugged. “Several months. I had staff look at Chiara’s fan mail after he showed up at her house. He’d sent an email or two, and my assistant says he’s cropped up on social media, too. Then he started a fan club and wanted autographed photos.”
“And now he’s moved on to believing he’s her fiancé.”
Odele sighed. “Some people buy into the Hollywood celebrity stuff a little too much.”
Right. Rick leaned back in his chair. “Besides trying to scale the fence at Chiara’s house, has he made any other moves?”
“Not until yesterday. At least not that I know of.” Odele took a sip from her cup. “I’ve already instructed Chiara’s attorney to go for a restraining order.”
“You and I both know it’s only a piece of paper, but she doesn’t want to consider additional physical security. Not even if I appoint myself.” Rick didn’t hide the frustration in his voice. Damn it. Who was he kidding? Chiara would resist, especially if it was him.
“So you’re considering my idea of being a pretend boyfriend? You need to move in.”
Rick shook his head in exasperation because Odele was a bulldozer. “If she doesn’t want a fake relationship and won’t tolerate a bodyguard, she definitely won’t have someone living in her house.”
If he and Chiara lived under one roof, they’d drive each other crazy. He’d alternate between wanting to shake some sense into her and take her to bed. And she’d... Well, she’d just rage at him and deny any sparks of a simmering attraction.
It was a recipe for disaster...or a Hollywood movie.
Odele gave him a mild look. “It’s all a matter of how it’s presented to her. If you’re going to distract the press as her new boyfriend, the story will play even bigger in the media if you move in. There’ll be more opportunities for the two of you to be photographed together.”
“Pretend boyfriend.” Everyone needed to be clear on the fake part, including and particularly him, if he was going to get involved with another actress.
Odele inclined her head. “Leave convincing her to me. I won’t say anything more about having you function as a bodyguard. But believe me, the press attention surrounding her father is really upsetting her.”
In Rick’s opinion, Chiara should be spending more time worrying about her stalker than about her estranged father. Still... “Tell me about Michael Feran.”
Odele set aside her coffee cup. “There’s not much to say. Chiara’s parents divorced when she was young. Chiara and her mother were in Rhode Island until Hollywood beckoned. Her mother died a few years ago. She developed sepsis after an illness. It was a shock for everyone.”
“But her father continues to make waves.”
“Last year, he accepted money from a third-rate weekly to dish about Chiara.”
Rick cursed.
Odele shot him a perceptive look from behind her red glasses. “Yes, Chiara felt betrayed.”
So Chiara’s was far from a fairy-tale upbringing. No wonder she was prickly around him, and no doubt distrustful of men.
“Take it from me. Be the good boyfriend that she needs and keep an eye on her. Just don’t bring up the bodyguard part to her.”
“A pretend boyfriend.” Pretend being the operative word there. He wasn’t sure if he was reminding himself or Odele, though.
“Right.”
Right.
* * *
Chiara took Ruby out of her box and perched her on her knee. The dummy wore a sequined gown, and her hair and face were worthy of a Vegas showgirl.
Chiara sat at the writing desk occupying one corner of her master bedroom. There’d been a break in filming for the weekend, and she was happy to retreat to her sanctuary. She needed time away. First her father, then Rick and finally a stalker had frayed her nerves.
Still, even though it was a beautiful and sunny Saturday afternoon, and she should have been in a great mood, she...wasn’t. She was irritable and restless and anxious. She’d been having trouble memorizing her lines ever since the attempted break-in at her trailer. Pegasus Pride was an action flick, so the script wasn’t heavy, but there was still dialogue that she had to be able to say without prompting.
Frustrated, she’d finally resorted to using Ruby to help her relax. She hadn’t taken the dummy out in months, but ventriloquism kept her in touch with her former life—and at moments like these, let her deal with her present concerns.
Chiara searched the dummy’s face. “What am I going to do?”
Ruby tilted her head.
“I must be out of my mind to be talking to a dummy by myself.”
“You’re not alone if you’re having a chat with someone,” Ruby responded in her singsong voice. “I just help you figure things out, sugar.”
“I thought that’s what Odele is for.”
Ruby waved her hand. “You already know where Odele stands. She’s on the hunk’s side, and frankly, I don’t know why you aren’t, too.” Ruby tossed her hair—because rolling her eyes was out of the question. “He’s delicious.”
“Annoying. You’re reading too much gossip.”
“I have to, it’s about you,” the dummy chirped. “Anyway, it’s time you let someone under your skin, and back into your bed. And Rick...that body, that face, that kiss. Need I say more?”
“You are saucy and naughty, Ruby.”
“And you wish you could be. Let your hair down, sugar.
”
Chiara’s gaze fell to the laptop at her elbow. “I have too many responsibilities...and plenty of problems.”
The headline on the computer screen spoke for itself: Chiara Feran’s Father Thrown Out of Casino.
Maybe now that he couldn’t gamble because he’d been caught counting cards, Michael Feran would stay out of trouble. But Chiara knew that was wishful thinking.
The public thought she had an enviable life—helped by Odele’s relentless image craftsmanship. But the truth...
She’d never thought of herself as a beauty queen, for one. Oh, sure, she’d been blessed with good genes—a nice face and a fast metabolism that meant it wasn’t impossible to adhere to Hollywood standards of beauty. But she also considered herself an outsider. She’d been raised by an immigrant mother, grown up enduring cold New England winters and would have still been doing theater but for a quirk of fate and Odele risking taking her on as a client.
She liked her privacy, her best friend was a smart-mouthed talent manager ripe for caricature and her sidekick was a doll made of wood. Obviously Todd Jeffers was crazier than she gave him credit for if he couldn’t pick a better-credentialed starlet to stalk. And now she had a rumored boyfriend—a muscle-bound stuntman who looked as if he could enter a triathlon.
She’d already ignored a text from Odele about the latest headline, but Chiara knew her manager was right—they needed a distraction fast...
Her lawyers were due in court in the coming days to get a temporary restraining order—so there’d be more unwanted press attention because of her unpleasant fan.
Still, Rick Serenghetti? Argh.
Her cell phone buzzed again, a telltale ringtone, and this time Chiara knew she couldn’t ignore it. With an apologetic look, she propped Ruby on a chair and took the call. “Hello, Odele.”
“Enjoying your time off?”
“Define enjoy. I’m memorizing my lines.” Among other things. She cast Ruby a hush-hush look.
“Rick needs to move in if we’re going to make this fake relationship work. It’ll help believability.”
“No.” The refusal fell from her lips without thought. Rick in her house? They’d throttle each other...if they weren’t jumping into bed. And the contradiction of trying to make a fake relationship work was apparently lost on her manager.