It takes courage to choose love...

Internet security expert Michael Valentine knows his place in Kacey Hamilton’s life. The soap opera star lives in two worlds: glamorous Hollywood and small town Santa Raquel, where she volunteers with him at The Lemonade Stand women’s shelter. The key to their friendship is maintaining boundaries. And after an accident years ago left him badly scarred, he won’t expect anything more. But when threats against Kacey escalate, Michael will stop at nothing to protect her. Even if his investigation means confronting more than just her attacker as Kacey’s interest in him starts to go deeper than friendship...

A friend. He was a friend.

“I’ve got your back completely on the photo thing, Kace,” he ended up saying. “I’ll be watching every day.” Multiple times a day. He’d set up email notifications for additions to the thread on the site where the photos had been posted, but was cruising the broader internet, as well.

“I know that. And I’m here, anytime. Even when I’m at home. If you need me, you call. If I’m on set, I’ll return your call as soon as I’m alone.”

Two things she’d said hit him at once. Home. And alone. Santa Raquel was not home to her. Beverly Hills was. And when she was there, she was rarely alone.

His friendship with her might appear to be close, to be growing closer, more intimate, but in reality, he wasn’t a part of her life.

He was only her vacation.

Dear Reader,

I’m so glad you’re joining us at The Lemonade Stand. It’s a place where secrets really are safe. Life is filled with choices. It’s odd, though, that the time in our lives when we have to make the choices that will shape our entire lives is when we’re too young to know what we need to know to make the best choices...

Growing up in front of a camera, Kacey Hamilton was certain she wanted to spend her life in front of it. She loves the bright lights and being “on.” She’s good at it. And yet...she finds herself thirty years old and alone. Kacey always has an entourage...a list of suitors. She never has to worry about getting a date or a party invitation. But all the glitz and glamour can’t cover up the emptiness. She’s doing the only thing she ever wanted to do. She’s happy doing it. And yet it’s not enough.

If you’ve never read a ttq novel before, you’re just on the cusp of getting your first introduction. I love glitz and glamour, but it’s not enough for me. My stories look behind the larger-than-life. They go deep into the messy part of living. The feelings that we all experience but so often shy away from. The emotions that are confusing. Sometimes threatening. And yet...if we can find a safe place to explore them, we can oftentimes find that elusive happiness we’ve been seeking.

The Lemonade Stand is Kacey’s safe place. I hope my books can be one of yours.

I love to hear from my readers. Please find me at Facebook.com/tarataylorquinn and on Twitter, @tarataylorquinn. Or join my open Friendship board on Pinterest, Pinterest.com/tarataylorquinn/friendship!

All the best,

Tara

www.TaraTaylorQuinn.com

Her Secret Life

Tara Taylor Quinn

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Having written over eighty novels, TARA TAYLOR QUINN is a USA TODAY bestselling author with more than seven million copies sold. She is known for delivering intense, emotional fiction. Tara is a past president of Romance Writers of America. She has won a Readers’ Choice Award and is a five-time finalist for an RWA RITA® Award, a finalist for a Reviewers’ Choice Award and a Booksellers’ Best Award. She has also appeared on TV across the country, including CBS Sunday Morning. She supports the National Domestic Violence Hotline. If you or someone you know might be a victim of domestic violence in the United States, please contact 1-800-799-7233.

MILLS & BOON

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For Rachel,

Your life introduced me to bright lights. And to the strength of love that rests quietly beneath. Memories really do help seeing “us” through. I love you forever.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

“UH-HUH. YES.”

Mike Valentine listened unabashedly to the half he could hear of his lunch companion’s phone conversation the first Monday in March.

“I know. Mmm-hmm.” Her tone was more flirty than not. Glancing at Mike, Kacey rolled her eyes. And then mouthed, Bo.

A guy she’d been talking to in LA for the past several months. She said she wasn’t in love with him, but she liked him a lot. He fit her life in the city. She’d never, ever bring Bo to Santa Raquel, which was where Mike lived, and where he and Kacey volunteered at a local domestic violence shelter, the Lemonade Stand. Bo was part of her Beverly Hills life. And, Mike assumed, her sexual partner.

A subject that had nothing to do with Mike.

“Okay, tomorrow night. But only if it’s just a few of us. I meant it when I told you I don’t want to go clubbing.”

While she listened, she ate a French fry. Or as much of one as she’d allow herself. Just the tip. Off Mike’s plate.

She fell for the wrong guys. It didn’t take a genius to figure that one out. Besides, she’d told him so herself.

“No, I’m not going to change my mind...” Her tone of voice changed from playful to deadly serious.

While she couldn’t seem to control her propensity to date the wrong types, she was determined to make serious changes to her life and had already.

Like the drinking. She still did it. Socially. She might have been teetering on being a drunk, but she wasn’t an alcoholic. Her body didn’t have a chemical dependency on the stuff. And she hadn’t been drunk in ten months, not since she’d made up her mind to change her life. He knew...because she’d told him.

“I do want to be with you! It’s the clubbing I don’t want.” She was smiling now—not at Mike. She’d never smiled at Mike that way.

For which he was utterly thankful. That smile...it was the one reserved for the disposable men in Kacey’s life. The ones who were part of the soap opera star’s Hollywood life.

He’d take friendship with her any day. Getting her inside scoop was a whole different kind of intimacy. A more lasting one.

“No, I can’t do Thursday night. I have a class to teach Friday in Santa Raquel...”

At the Lemonade Stand.

She frowned. “Of course I can. I just don’t want to. The class is important to me, Bo.” Her lower lip got that pouty look—the one that had made her famous on The Rich and Loyal. “You know that.”

Mike lowered his gaze and ran straight into the ample cleavage showing above her skintight cotton top. It wasn’t that she was an exhibitionist, she’d just spent her life in front of a camera and was used to making the most of her assets.

That cleavage made him uncomfortable. He might value the friendship between them—and know that he wouldn’t change things for anything—but he was still a guy. A healthy guy.

In the prime of life.

Feeling like a creep when his body reacted to the eyeful he’d helped himself to, Mike glanced out the window. There wasn’t much to see. A bit of cracked asphalt, two commercial-size Dumpsters, one brown and one blue, side by side, and the chipping brick of the building next door. The old diner was...off the beaten path.

The owner was a decent chef, and left them alone—which was why Little’s Diner had become Mike and Kacey’s hangout, if you could call it that. Partway between LA and Santa Raquel—in a small inland town that had seen better days—Little’s had become the place they met when she was in LA and needed a friend fix.

He was the one who’d suggested the place. He’d found it by accident several years before when he’d needed to get out of the house but had had enough compassion for other diners not to expose them to his grotesque face. He’d been driving aimlessly on roads less traveled, and the diner’s half-broken sign had caught his attention, along with the Open sign and the lack of cars in the lot. He soon learned that the diner packed in folks during shift changes at a local manufacturing plant. After a “Wow, you look gross, man,” Lou Fancy, Little’s owner, had shrugged and shown Mike to a seat in a narrow alcove, facing away from the room.

He’d been coming back ever since.

“Of course you matter. And I want to meet your family. It’s just...”

She’d turned away from the table, but not before he’d seen her stricken expression.

“I know, you’re right,” she said next. And then, “Yes, of course. I’ll be there.”

Mike could hear the other man’s voice but couldn’t make out the words as Kacey sat forward in her seat again. She was smiling. And hung up shortly afterward.

He raised an eyebrow at her. She could talk. Or not.

He was good either way.

“His parents and little brother are in town Thursday night, just for the night. He wants me to meet them.”

He’d known that she couldn’t continue living two lives. They’d talked about it. If she wanted to work in LA and have a room in her sister’s home in Santa Raquel, she could probably pull it off. But this living two parallel lives—work, friends, social life—in both places just wasn’t healthy.

Or natural.

“You’re a volunteer at the Stand, Kace,” he reminded her. Not because he wanted her to choose LA, but because he believed that enough of her heart was there that she should pursue what a Beverly Hills life without the drinking would be like. “You don’t have to be there every week...”

The women she helped—all victims of domestic violence—benefited from the gentle way she showed them how to enhance their outer beauty with fashion and makeup advice, makeovers and impromptu fashion shows. But they’d been surviving and healing for years without her.

And there were others who knew about fashion. And makeup. Maybe none as famous as Kacey, but he’d learned one thing a long time ago—life went on.

“Of course I’m going to be there,” she said, frowning at him as she took another bite of her cranberry-something salad. “I’m helping. I’m just going to have to get up early Friday morning and drive up. It means I won’t get to spend the night with Lacey and Jem, get my Levi fix, or my walk on the beach...”

Because she had a thing to attend in Beverly Hills Friday night—something for the show, something to which Bo would be escorting her—and would have to drive back to the city after her class at the Lemonade Stand. She’d already told him as much.

“You coming back Saturday?” he asked her now, more for reference than anything else. He didn’t expect to see her.

“I hope so.”

With such an innocuous response, he didn’t think so. It wasn’t like she spent every weekend in Santa Raquel. But more often than not she stayed from Thursday night until at least Saturday. Sometimes she even made it through Sunday.

“You said you had a favor to ask,” he reminded her. It wasn’t all that unusual for them to meet like this, but when she’d called that morning, just three days since he’d seen her at the Lemonade Stand, she’d said that she wanted to talk to him in person.

She’d sounded...wary.

So unlike the Kacey who charged into life with a smile on her face and all lights blazing. Full of energy and ready to spend it.

He’d been much the same back when he’d taken life—and everything he had—for granted.

“Someone’s posting stuff about me on the internet,” she said, leaning forward. “I need you to help me figure out who it is.”

Right up his alley. He sat forward, too, his hands resting on the table beside a half plate of French fries. The Philly steak sandwich he’d ordered was long gone. When he visited the place alone—for old times’ sake—he finished the fries. But when Kacey was there...

She picked one up. Put it to her lips. Took the tiniest bite. And dropped it on top of what was left of her salad. She had to work that afternoon, her call was at two, she’d said, and she was a bit fanatic about not having a potbelly show on camera.

Her words.

She’d have to have one to have it show.

Even if the camera did add pounds. She’d still have to have one to have it show...

While Mike was busy trying not to think of the numerous glimpses he’d had of Kacey’s tanned, completely flat stomach over the year he’d known her—a result of the short shirts she wore with low-waisted jeans and shorts—she was busy flipping through something on her phone.

“Here,” she said, handing it to him. “My agency sent this over this morning.”

Her sudden frown got his complete attention. He’d thought they were dealing with a minor issue—an excuse for them to have lunch together since she had a late-call day.

As owner of MV Cyber Solutions, a successful-beyond-his-imaginings private IT investigative firm with clients in law enforcement—meaning they offered investigative work involving computers and the internet to law enforcement and lawyers—Mike was his own boss with trusted employees. And he could pretty much always squeeze an hour out of his day for Kacey.

He read the email warning her of something that had popped up on the internet over the weekend.

“The agency has someone who watches over us,” Kacey was saying. “Part of her job is to search the internet on a daily basis for any media hits, good or bad, on their clients. And they had us all set up Google Alerts, as well. I just don’t generally pay attention to mine.”

He looked over at her. Didn’t like that she was still frowning. Kacey’s smile lit up the world. Not his world specifically—but whatever space she occupied. He’d been around her enough to be ample witness to that fact. It didn’t matter who she was with, from women with damaged spirits to her five-year-old step-nephew—people gravitated to her. Responded to her...

“I didn’t know talent agencies did that,” he said, scrolling slowly down to see whatever had Kacey concerned.

“Maybe most don’t.” She shrugged. “I’m just glad mine does.”

The photo wasn’t sexy in nature, which was what he’d feared. It was more of a head shot. She looked...questionable. Her eyes were shadowed, half-shut. Her mouth was hanging open.

“When was this taken?” He wasn’t relaxed anymore.

“I’m not even sure,” she said. “It doesn’t show what I’m wearing. Could have been anywhere. But I know it was after Christmas.”

He looked at the photo again. “You’re wearing the earrings Lacey got you.” They were a set of three diamond studs for her three ear piercings. Her identical twin shared the same physical traits with Kacey, but Lacey didn’t effervesce like her sister did. Kacey had been feeling guilty about the fact that her sister had suffered for being in her shadow. Lacey wanted her to know that shining was her gift.

“Yeah,” Kacey said now, watching him. He didn’t see the long golden curls. Or the kissable, full lips that the world associated with her. He saw the almost hunted look in her big blue eyes.

He read the caption. “‘America’s daytime sweetheart knows how to tie one on at night.’”

Studying Kacey kept his emotions in check. Focus came naturally to him. He’d spent years training himself not to react to stimulus in front of him. “Have you been drunk, or otherwise under the influence, at any time since Christmas?”

The unmistakably hurt look in her eyes nicked his barriers. “I can’t believe you just asked me that.”

He was her...sponsor...albeit secretly, unofficially and probably unnecessarily, too. But she’d wanted someone she’d have to be accountable to if she ever felt like slipping back into her old ways. Someone without undue investment in the outcome.

“So, no?” He forced himself to remain completely noncommittal. She needed help, not judgment. He had to know whatever she could give him before he started building his investigation.

“No.”

“Okay, good.”

“Why is that good?” she asked him. “Beyond the obvious of me not being drunk.”

“I now know this was Photoshopped,” he said. It wasn’t much, but it was somewhere to begin. “I’m assuming you want to know who took the picture.”

“I want to know who posted it,” she said. “And why.”

“It says right here, posted by K&Ltoget...” It was just a screen name.

“K&Ltoget didn’t post that,” she said. “It’s on some rag fan site...”

He saw that now. Recognized the name of a public blog where pretty much anyone could post anything they considered newsworthy. Didn’t have to be true. Or really even news...

She’d said K&Ltoget didn’t post it. As if she knew...

“Who’s K&Ltoget?” he asked, in spite of a strong suspicion he’d figured it out. His fingers itched for his keyboard.

“Kacey and Lacey together forever,” she said. “We never used it as a screen name, but what are the chances of someone coming up with the same exact configuration? It was our first email address. K&Ltoget. At the time, that’s as long as the address could be.”

Her chin was firm, like she was holding emotions in check. He wanted her smiling. Always.

“Do either of you still use the address?”

“There’s no way Lacey would post something like this...”

“I’m not saying she did. I’m not even thinking she could have. I want to know if either of you still use it.”

“Only when we’re writing to each other.”

“When was the last time either of you sent something from that account?”

She motioned her head toward the phone he still held. “Look at my email,” she told him. “You’ll see.”

He hit the back button. Scrolled through her inbox, careful to ignore anything that didn’t pertain to the business at hand.

But he noticed that she’d saved his last several emails to her. She’d saved others, too.

That was Kacey. All inclusive. One of the things he liked about her...

“Last Wednesday,” he said, finding what he was looking for. “You sent each other a string of messages last Wednesday.”

She nodded. “Sounds right.”

“That’s five days ago.”

She nodded and he asked, “Mind if I send this to myself?”

“Of course not...”

He did so. Quickly. Efficiently. Handed her back her phone. He needed to get back to the office.

“Michael? That was our private email when we were kids. We never used it for business. No one ever knew it.”

He nodded, tapped his finger on the table. Then patted a soft rhythm on his thigh.

“You think someone hacked into our computers or phones?”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure what’s going on.” Which was why he had to get going. “If your email was hacked, you would probably know it. You aren’t getting any new influx of spam, are you? Anything unusual coming through?”

She shook her head but didn’t seem ready to take off, like she needed to sit with a friend she could trust for a second.

Part of him wanted to give her that. So he stayed. This wasn’t the first time someone had posted something derogatory about her. That came with the territory. They weren’t dealing with life and death.

So why did it feel like they were?

CHAPTER TWO

“WE MAKE QUITE a pair...”

Walking beside Michael toward their cars in the run-down parking lot, Kacey wished they had just a little more time together. He was so easy to be with. The only one in her life who never seemed to want anything from her.

Or need anything. Not that she had a problem with being needed. She didn’t. At all. She’d hate it if her loved ones didn’t need her. Still, it was nice to just be...

Stopping between his blue SUV and her Mustang convertible, a thank-you gift to her and Lacey for a commercial they’d done and which Lacey hadn’t wanted, she looked up at him—a good five inches up—into his shaded brown eyes.

“Why do you say that?” she asked, not sure she liked the slightly derogatory tone that had accompanied his pairing them together. Leaning back against her car, she crossed her arms to keep from reaching up to brush his longish blond hair back from the side of his face. The hair wasn’t really long enough to cover what was left of his scars, but the way he held his head, cocked to the side with the damaged side down, looked as though he was used to doing so.

“You’re the most vivacious, beautiful, outgoing and social creature, and me... If I didn’t have a family that I needed to keep off my ass—and work to do at the Lemonade Stand—I’d happily be a recluse.”

He didn’t talk about whatever had blown apart his left lower jaw. Or what she assumed had to have been years of surgeries to repair his face. She’d asked him about it once. He’d told her there’d been an accident during his senior year of college. And then abruptly changed the subject.

But she’d be a ready and willing listener if he ever chose to confide in her.

“You’re an absolutely beautiful creature, too.” The words were drawn from someplace deep inside her. Completely authentic—and a tad embarrassing out in the open.

He kind of smiled at her, and she figured he thought she was humoring him. She considered pressing the matter but figured it was wiser to let it go. Used to pushing forward, to going for whatever she thought should be, Kacey held back with Michael Valentine. She didn’t want to lose him.

“And anyway, there you go, mentioning your family again, and them being on your ass.” Her tone was lighthearted, setting them back into their peaceful place. “Yet, here I am, still not meeting them.”

As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she regretted them. She’d just told herself not to push him.

“Forget I said that.” She reached out to touch his forearm. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”

He grinned, not seeming the least bit bothered, making her feel instantly better. Which was halfway nuts, too, because Michael never seemed bothered by anything.

“I’ll get some answers for you, Kace,” he said, his tone as even, as soothing, as always. “How late are you working tonight?”

“I’m only in two scenes this afternoon, so I’m thinking no later than seven.” With all of the changes in recent years, they didn’t film by scene sequence anymore. Everything was shot by set, not in time sequence, in four long days so the actors had three days off and the daytime viewers still had five episodes to watch every week. If she didn’t have a scene on a particular set, like that morning, she didn’t have to be there.

He nodded.

“I’ll call you when I get out,” she said—more because of this curious urge to keep talking to him than because she thought he’d have any answers for her that soon.

He grinned at her. “You’d best get your butt into town,” he said, chucking her on the arm like a brother might do. “You’d really give them something to gossip about if you showed up on set like that.”

She wore a wig on the show and looked completely different without her stage makeup. For the first time, she wondered if he thought the Beverly Hills Kacey looked better than the toned-down version he always saw.

Why it should suddenly matter made no sense.

“You know that I know that life is about far more than looks, right?” It wasn’t like her to have these retrospective moments. She was facing the sun and had to squint to look up at him.

Squinting caused facial lines.

She wanted to not care, but turned so that neither of them was facing the sun.

“What’s going on?” His question was as pointed as he’d ever been with her.

“I don’t know.” She heard the brush-off in her words. “I really don’t, Michael. I just... I am who I am, you know?”

“Of course I do. You have no problem here, Kace, if that’s what you’re thinking...”

“No.” She shook her head. “It’s just, I hear myself sometimes, you know, like the first time we met...”

She cringed even bringing up that horrid afternoon. Her second class at the Lemonade Stand. Standing at the front of the room, telling nine battered women that their looks did matter. That if they did what they could to make themselves look their best, they’d feel better about themselves, which would breed confidence, which then bred strength. If they felt good about themselves, they’d be more apt to really believe in their own worth and then stand up for themselves until they were treated respectfully.

It was all true. All valid and important. She was helping women she’d come to care about a great deal. In a little less than a year, she’d seen two of those women get jobs, places of their own, and stand up in court and win.

“I was the one in the wrong that day.” Hands in his pockets, he shrugged, as if there was nothing to talk about.

He’d interrupted her at the beginning of her lecture when she’d still been talking about how much it mattered to take time to do your hair and makeup. To choose clothes purposefully for your body size and style. He’d suggested, quietly, in a completely Michael way, that she might want to consider where she was and whom she was dealing with before she started in on her beauty-pageant rhetoric.

She’d had no idea he was a volunteer at the Lemonade Stand—one who had financed the computer repair shop that now helped support the shelter and who’d started and still oversaw computer-skill training classes there for the residents.

“No, that’s just it.” She touched his chest, fiddled with the button on his black button-down shirt. She was naturally a toucher. With everyone. She stopped, concerned she’d offended him again. Her hands hung suspended in midair. “I mean, yes, you were wrong, but so was I. I’d seen you come in and it didn’t even occur to me to change my rhetoric.”

She’d been talking about the value of beauty, knowing that a man with a markedly scarred face was in her small audience. She should have shown more sensitivity.

She’d later found out that he’d shown up at her class on behalf of a group of residents who’d asked him if their reasons for not wanting to come to her class were valid. They didn’t think a woman should put so much value on her looks.

“And you were right, too,” she quickly continued, letting one hand land on his chest—as some kind of weird compromise she was making between life as she’d known it and life as it was. “We can’t help what we’re born with or what happens to us, and there are a lot of victims of domestic violence who have had what beauty they were born with permanently altered...which doesn’t in any way diminish their worth. Their rights.”

It felt good to speak with passion in real life, rather than just on camera. And odd and somewhat threatening, too. So many changes in the past year...

“I was completely insensitive to the fact that the idea of judging one’s self-worth based on beauty, or by making it about external looks, is as detrimental to some as a little makeup and hairstyling is good for others,” she admitted.

“But you were completely right, too, as I’d have known if I’d listened a little longer before jumping on my soapbox.” His grin settled her.

And got her going again, too, in a way she was much more comfortable with.

“No matter what we’re born with or, as you say, what happens to us, we still feel better about ourselves when we give attention to our bodies. When we do all we can with what we have,” she said, happy that her rhetoric had value.

She wanted to touch his face. Had wanted to so many times over the months she’d known him, but never so much as she did in that moment. Wanted him to know he didn’t have to tilt his head slightly to the side to hide himself from her view.

“I really do find you beautiful, Michael.” The words were all wrong. She knew it as soon as they spilled out.

He didn’t push her away. He’d never be that cruel. He just stepped back until her hand fell from his chest and down to her thigh.

“You don’t need to work me, Kace,” he said, a note of bitterness mixed with pity in his tone. If such a thing were possible.

She felt pitied as he looked at her.

“I’ll find your hacker. And I’ll find out why you appear to have been targeted for things you don’t do anymore. But I’ll do it because I’m under the impression that we’ve become friends. Not because you turn on your charm.”

Stung to the core, she felt real tears spring to her eyes. And blinked hard a couple of times so they’d leave before they showed. She was an actress—a good one—she could do calm and unaffected just fine.

With a laugh, she tapped his chest again, hoping it wasn’t out of a pathetic need to show them both that she was allowed to do so. “I’m not working you, honey,” she said with an obviously made-up drawl. And then, more seriously, “If I ever work you, Michael, you won’t know what hit you.”

What in the hell did she mean by that?

This whole stalking thing—not that she was anywhere close to being stalked—but seeing herself framed as the drunk she’d once been had upset her. A lot. She didn’t like that woman. Was ashamed of her.

Didn’t want her family to see her in that light.

She wasn’t that woman anymore.

“I’m sorry,” she told Michael. “I just... It feels kind of like someone is trying to force me to be the old Kacey whether I choose to or not...”

“I know.” He nodded. Didn’t smile. The look in those chocolate-brown eyes was kind.

She had to go. And let him get back to his life, too. It was selfish of her, the way she’d call and let him come running.

Her butt landed against her car when she leaned back rather than turning. “I meant what I said. I was not working you.”

He nodded.

“You’re a beautiful man. Outside and in.”

She saw his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed. Not something that she’d noticed before.

“I’m smart enough to figure out, based on your scars, that at one point, the left side of your face was difficult to look at.” She was staring him straight in the eye. “It’s not anymore, Michael. The scars, they show strength...” She shrugged. “I don’t know, integrity, somehow. Like you have what it takes to wear them well.”

She was a class-A idiot. Lacey had said, on more than one occasion, that she didn’t know how to let things lie. Always had to prod to the fullest degree.

But then, Lacey was a happy, newly married woman and stepmother partially because of Kacey’s prodding, so it wasn’t like her identical twin could complain too much.

Michael wasn’t speaking. But he hadn’t left her standing there alone, either.

“Okay, well, I have to get back to the city,” she said. Sliding toward her door, she spun and grabbed the handle, pulled, started to lower herself to the black leather bucket seat.

“Kace?”

“Yeah?” She was staring up into the sun again. Couldn’t make out his expression.

“I think you’re beautiful, too. Inside and out.”

With that he was gone.

And she was left with thoughts of him consuming her. All the way back to real life.

CHAPTER THREE

MIKE KNEW, AS he put off dinner with his youngest sister and her family to focus on Kacey’s job, that she’d worked him. Just like she worked every single person she met.

The woman oozed charm by nature, not by choice.

He’d fallen under her spell months ago and had chosen to stay there.

Not only did she add a fascinating little sidebar to his satisfying but rather boring life, but he genuinely liked her. She was flirty and dramatic and could act as well as she played the authenticity card, but she had a bigger heart than most.

One she was just starting to learn to live with. To the world she was a star. A rich, successful actress.

To him she was like a fledgling bird, one that would grow into the dove of peace and be able to save the world, as long as her vulnerabilities were tended to and she was treated with care.

She wasn’t too hard on the eyes, either. He didn’t know a heterosexual guy alive who wouldn’t choose to have alone time with her, given the chance.

He was given the chance. And quite happily took it.

For what it was worth. Not for something it would never be.

He wished he had better news for her when seven o’clock rolled around. He’d settled out by the pool with a shot of bourbon in the backyard of his three-bedroom home.

The home he’d owned in a gated community and had lived in, alone, for the past five years, was situated on a golf course he’d never played.

He hated the sport.

But the lush green grass added value to the property and was nice to look at.

Noticing a theme to his thoughts—surrounding himself with things and people who were nice to look at—he took a sip from his glass and set it down on the table in front of him. Opened his computer and booted up.

His phone rang at a quarter after.

He could hear voices in the background. “You still at work?”

“No, I...” She paused, as though listening to someone else. “I’m sorry, Michael. Bo showed up at the studio this evening and surprised me with dinner and tickets to a show I’ve been dying to see. Anyway, I’m in the restroom at the restaurant now, so we can have some privacy. What did you find out?”

Taking another sip of the one whiskey he allowed himself in any twenty-four-hour period, he thought of her hiding in the bathroom to speak to him and grinned as he looked out over the green grass beyond the half wall surrounding his yard.

Of course she’d be out. “Michael?” The concern in her tone sobered him, so he gave her the bad news all at once.

“Someone is not only using your old email address as a screen name, they’ve hacked into your email account, too.”

“Who’s doing it?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ve traced an IP address to a physical address not far from your place in LA.” He wasn’t sure how much he wanted to tell her. He sure as hell didn’t want her confronting anyone herself. “I still don’t know what we’re dealing with here, Kace,” he told her. “There’s no evidence that your address has been used for anything other than to register for the account used to post the one photo. I’ve searched deep and I don’t find anything else.”

“But it’s a concern that they used my email address.”

That was putting it mildly.

“The first thing I’d like to do is talk to Lacey...”

He’d met her sister several times, mostly at the Lemonade Stand. Jem, Lacey’s husband, had been in counseling at the Stand for most of the past year. Mike had also chatted with Kacey’s family at several of the Stand’s social functions.

They’d invited him to do more, to join them at their place for dinner a time or two, but he couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t risk giving anyone the impression that he and Kacey could or should be paired off as a couple. If that happened, things would only grow uncomfortable between them and inevitably have a negative impact on their friendship.

But for business, with Kacey in Beverly Hills, he could stop by her sister’s place.

“No. I don’t want you bothering Lacey with this. She and Jem have been married three months and are only just this next week leaving for a honeymoon in Italy. Mom and Dad are going to be watching Levi for an entire seven days. I don’t want that messed up.”

“We need to talk to her, Kace,” he said. “We need to know who could have had access to her account information. Is it on her computer at work? Could someone there be behind this?”

“I have no idea.”

“I don’t, either, but we need to find out.”

Her pause let him breathe a little easier.

“Okay, but let me tell her about it.”

“Then have her call me.”

“Okay. I’ll call her as soon as we hang up.”

He had a thought about dinner and the show. Wondering how much time she had. And how patient Bo Neanderthal would be.

“I have a lunch meeting tomorrow in LA,” he continued. “I plan to drive in a little early and check out the physical address where the IP address is registered.” Before she suggested she could do it herself, he added, “But in the meantime, I’d like to know how many people actually knew and used this email address.”

“Just Lacey and me.”

“I mean, who might have known it from emails you’ve sent.”

“I have no idea...” Her voice trailed off and he heard a toilet flush. Heard her chuckle and make a muffled comment. “Sorry, someone was in here. We haven’t sent emails or given out the address in years. Not since Lacey went to college. But when we were in high school, our close friends had it.”

“I’ll need those names.”

“Okay, but...should I be calling the police, Michael?”

“And tell them what? That someone used your email account to post a picture of you?”

“A Photoshopped picture.”

“But coming from your account.”

“But it made me look...drunk. Or high.”

“A year ago, from what you’ve said, the depiction would have been accurate, so it would be hard to prove a motive of maliciousness, or even harm.”

“It’s illegal to hack into someone’s email account.”

He heard the tiger in her voice and almost smiled again.

“Yes, it is, but until we have proof that it’s happened, or proof that malicious harm is intended, or any harm, we have nothing to take to anyone. This could be little more than a prank.”

“Do you think that’s what it is?”

He wanted to tell her he did. Simply to ease her mind.

“No. What I want is for you to be careful. Watch over your shoulder, but live your life and let me do what I do...”

“Okay.” She sounded...definite.

“How soon can you get me those names?” He had all night.

“You want me to cancel my evening plans? I can go home right now and look through past emails. At the advice of an agent, Lacey and I have always saved everything we’ve ever sent or received. They’re on flash drives. I’m happy to go now if you think it’s necessary.”

Poor Bo.

“No, that’s fine. But call Lacey for me, would you? I’d like to speak with her tonight, while she’s at home, just in case there’s someone in her office who’s trying to cause trouble.”

He didn’t think that was what had happened. At all. Whoever had posted the picture had clearly been after Kacey. But to what purpose? Why now, after she’d stopped living the wild, partying lifestyle?

Ringing off, he reminded himself that the purpose was not his business. His job was internet investigation. Beyond that was up to Kacey. Or, if things turned bad, the police.

* * *

THE LAST THING in the world Kacey wanted to do was phone her sister with her crap. Their whole lives Lacey had been the one to take care of things, whether it was smoothing the way with their parents when Kacey had gotten them into trouble or getting rid of an unwanted suitor—and, their whole lives, Kacey had been the one to shine.

Over the years, while she hadn’t understood it and had been hurt horribly by it, she and Lacey had grown further apart. Until one day her identical twin, her other half, had left her. Just...left.

Well, Lacey had told her that she was going—but only the day before. Then she’d packed up and walked out. Left the modeling business. The commercial-making business. They’d been in front of the camera together since they were too young to do anything but look cute and gurgle, and Lacey had broken up the team.

They’d become almost strangers after that—as much as identical twins who still saw each other often and talked every week could be strangers.

Then finally last summer, by some miracle, Lacey had invited Kacey to spend her vacation in Santa Raquel. There’d been some tough moments, but they’d worked through a lot of their past hurts.

And they were slowly finding their way back to a better version of the best they’d ever been.

She didn’t want that progress slowed. Or damaged.

Yet there she was, right back to being in the spotlight and needing Lacey’s help.

And she absolutely did not want her sister to think that she’d gone back on her word and started drinking heavily or partying again.

What she did want was to be in control of her life. And accountable for it.

Forgetting Bo for the moment, not caring about dinner or theaters or anything in Hollywood, she speed-dialed her sister’s number. Tried to feel what Lacey would feel when she heard the news.

And got in her own way. She couldn’t feel her sister when she was too busy feeling herself.

The call took less than two minutes.

Lacey was great—passionate and compassionate. Ready to do whatever it took to wipe the planet of any demon that might dare to venture into Kacey’s life.

Not for one second did she indicate, in any way, that she had even the slightest doubt that the image was Photoshopped.

She said she’d call Mike Valentine immediately.

Told Kacey she loved her.

And went back to her life. More specifically, she was going to join Jem and Levi for a trip to the local ice cream store.

After she ended the call, Kacey stood alone in the Beverly Hills restroom, wishing she had what Lacey had.

A home in Santa Raquel with her own family.

A life she’d purposely chosen.

A path she understood.

CHAPTER FOUR

MIKE WASN’T THE least bit surprised when Lacey’s call included an invitation for him to come right over and check out her machine. Lacey and Jem Bridges were just that way—open doors and willingness to help written all over them. As a social worker, Lacey offering a helping hand seemed natural. Jem was just plain one of the nicest guys Mike had ever met.

He also had an embarrassing and never to be spoken of—or even fully acknowledged to himself—sense of brotherhood with Jem. Like Mike, Jem had suffered at the hand of a loved one. Equally as bad, worse in Mike’s case, was the world knowing he was a victim. That sense of people looking at you with pity could make you feel less...manly if you let it. Jem didn’t. At all.

Mike didn’t, either.

Hence the brotherhood.

It ended there. Unlike Jem’s abuse, Mike’s injury had had nothing to do with a loved one purposely attacking him. Mike’s injury was the result of a complete and total accident. A tragic accident that had...

No.

Kacey had touched his chest...telling him he was beautiful...

No. He was not looking back. There was no point wondering what could have been.

If not for the bullet that had ripped his face apart, he never would have met Kacey. Known the joy of her friendship.

He’d have been married to Susan, fully entrenched in the corporate world in whatever city made him the best offer, and probably spending Saturdays driving their kids places.

Not a bad picture.

But not Kacey.

And he wouldn’t have been able to help out the Lemonade Stand, either, or had such close relationships with his parents and siblings.

“Mike, come in!” Lacey stepped back, pulling the door open wider, as Jem came forward to shake his hand.

“What’s up, man?” Jem fist-bumped him on the shoulder with his free hand, a grin on his face.

“Business, unfortunately,” Mike answered as though he’d rehearsed his response. Which he had.

He wasn’t there because he was hot for Kacey. He was working.

As soon as it became anything else, people would start pitying him.

And this time, with reason. If he was stupid enough to fall for her, he’d deserve to be pitied.

He might find the daytime-soap star hot, he might even enjoy her company, but he most definitely did not want to queue up in her line of men.

He was a one-woman kind of guy who liked the quiet life. A geek who liked his own company.

He would hate being a part of the crazy mélange that was Kacey’s Beverly Hills life.

The thought of enduring even one week of that lifestyle gave him cold sweats.

Much more effective than a cold shower.

“I’m going to be playing T-ball. You like watching T-ball?”

Shaking errant thoughts from his mind, Mike focused on the five-year-old who’d just approached licking a soggy chocolate ice cream cone.

“Yes, Levi, it just so happens I do like watching T-ball,” he said, nodding. “I used to like to play, too, and watch my little brothers play.”

“Cool. Maybe you could come watch me sometime.”

From what he’d been told by his secret friend, Kacey attended every Levi event she could. But T-ball games often happened on weeknights. And Kacey would be in LA.

“Maybe I could,” he told the little boy and tensed at the same time.

What are you doing, man?

What if Levi’s team made it to a tournament? The family would expect him to come cheer the team on. Tournament games were on Saturdays and...

“Levi, you’d best lick fast.” Jem tapped his son’s shoulder and pointed him toward the hallway. “It’s your bedtime. And Mr. Valentine’s a busy man.”

Yes. He was. And he was there to work. He watched the dark-haired boy walk down the hallway with his dad, remembering Kacey’s tears the first time she’d talked about the abuse the little guy had suffered at the hands of his biological mother.

Thank God for Jem. And Lacey. Levi seemed like a perfectly normal, happy kid.

“It’s so great of you to do this,” Lacey said as she led Mike to the home office she shared with her husband. “I know you’re crazy busy—hence a house call after eight at night...”

He shrugged. Work was a high to him. He was the best at what he did. “Saved me from dinner with Charlie and her brood,” he said, though, truth be told, he generally enjoyed dinner with his sister’s family. Unless she was being overprotective—which was about half the time.

Lacey was booting up her computer. “She’s got a little one Levi’s age.”

“That’s right. Bella.”

“I saw her hugging you after the Christmas pageant. I was heading over to say hi, hoping maybe you’d introduce us to your family, but you’d already left.”

He’d seen Kacey and bolted before things got awkward.

The kids weren’t in the same class, just the same grade. And he and Kacey hadn’t communicated via text or email almost every day back then. He hadn’t been aware of her plans, or even known she’d be in town unless she happened to show up at the Lemonade Stand when he was there.

Well...he’d always known about Fridays, of course, because of her class. And because, for a long time, that was when they’d meet to talk about her struggles living a cleaner lifestyle in LA. After her class. In the small private office he still kept in the rear of the computer repair shop that was on the street backing up to the Lemonade Stand. The whole block had shops with secure entrances to and from the Stand.

And was owned by the Stand’s benefactor, Brett Ackerman. All proceeds from the shops open to the public helped to support the women’s shelter. Mike had spent a lot more time there when they’d first been setting up the computer repair shop than he did now.

“Here you go,” Lacey said. “Have at it.”

He glanced at the screen. Emails were still coming in. “You want to take a look and move anything you’d rather I don’t see?”

She shook her head. “I want to know who’s using our email account. Look at anything you need to...”

He was an IT investigator. He knew the kinds of things that could be found. Not that he expected Lacey—or Jem—to have anything illegal on their machines. But...private...was conceivable.

“What about confidential work files?”

She shook her head. “Not on that machine. I log in to my work computer—”

“Which answers my next question. The two computers are connected sometimes?”

“Yes.” She was frowning.

“And do you ever email Kacey with your private account from work?”

“I don’t remember specifically doing so, but I’m sure I have. I’ve never made it a point not to.”

“Can you hide files and do whatever is necessary so I can get a look at that machine tomorrow?”

“You do investigations for the local police, don’t you?”

“I have. On occasion. They have their own IT investigators.”

“If you have clearance with them, you’ve got clearance with us. It’s a city-wide thing.”

He’d known he had clearance, just not that she wouldn’t have to go through extra red tape.

He was already sitting in her desk chair, clicking through screens.

“You’re doing that so quickly, how can you even know what’s there?”

“I’m searching for something very specific. I know where it will be...” He looked at back-door computer information all day, every day. “It’s like any foreign language.” He often told ladies at the Lemonade Stand the same thing. “Once you learn it, you don’t have to think about it. You just recognize it.”

Not that he taught computer forensics to the residents at the Stand. With them it was more basic programming for career training...

He took a couple of screen shots, emailed them to himself and then stood up. “I’m done here,” he said, as eager to be gone as he’d been to visit.

This urge he’d had to get to know Lacey a little better—more of a curiosity, really—because she and Kacey were so tightly intertwined, wasn’t good.

And he most certainly didn’t need to see where Kacey stayed when she was in town any more than he’d ever have cause to see her place in Beverly Hills.

“You want a cup of coffee?” Lacey asked. “Or a beer? Jem’ll be out in a couple of minutes and I know he’d share a beer with you. I can’t stand the stuff, so he’s always looking for an excuse to have one with someone.”

Mike was already shaking his head. “I should be getting back,” he said, filled with even more eagerness to go when he realized how tempted he was to stay.

“You sure? I baked cookies with Levi last night. There are still a bunch left.”

She’d led him to the kitchen rather than to the front door and took the lid off a cookie jar that was shaped like a teddy bear. He didn’t want to be rude.

But he couldn’t stay. Dipping his hand in the jar, he came up with a chocolate chip cookie that could rival his mother’s.

That made him think about the home-cooked dinner he’d missed at his sister’s. About the home Lacey and Jem shared. The ones both of his sisters and their husbands shared. The one his parents shared.

His younger brother Dennis stayed with Mike on the rare occasions Dennis was in town. And as soon as he graduated from college in May, he’d be back even less. Dennis wanted to be a professional fisherman and spent up to three months at a time out on one of the big boats in the middle of the ocean.

Escapism, Mike termed it.

“This is good,” he said, taking a second bite and closing his mouth so he could chew and swallow. Closing his mouth so he didn’t say something he’d regret.

Like accepting that cup of coffee. Or a beer.

He hadn’t finished his bourbon.

Lacey grinned. Offered him another. And smiled. Her mouth...it curved just like Kacey’s did. But there the resemblance ended.

He liked Lacey and found a curious kind of peace in her company.

With Kacey, he buzzed. Like he was fully alive. Sexually, of course, that was a given, but intellectually, too.

“What?” Lacey asked.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re staring at me. But don’t worry, I’m used to it. It was rude of me to say anything...” She turned her back, put the cookie jar in the corner of the counter.

“I didn’t mean to stare,” he said. “It was rude. And you have every right to say something.” He knew all about the struggles between the identical twins—about Lacey’s feeling she was always living in Kacey’s shadow, settling for second best.

Until Jem, of course. She’d been his first choice.

He could tell her all that. Tell her that he’d been noticing how, in spite of their identical appearance, she looked so different than her sister to him.

But, of course, he wouldn’t.

“I should get going,” he said instead. Way past time.

“I’m sure Kacey’s paying you, but I’d be glad to make the first installment, since she’s in LA.” Lacey reached for her purse. “I can write you a check...”

He didn’t take checks. Not personally. He had a woman who handled all of his billing. And accounts payable, too, at his suite of offices across from the new medical complex at the edge of town.

“That’s not necessary,” he said.

Lacey froze and stared up at him. “She is paying you, right? You didn’t offer to do this for free?”

As far as Mike was concerned, the question was none of her business, even if Kacey hadn’t been a friend. And her identical twin.

He said nothing.

“She isn’t. Mike, she’s trying, I swear, and she’s changing, but Kacey has no idea of the power she has to get people to do things for her. Your firm charges top dollar. I’m going to pay you...” She reached for her purse again.

“Stop,” he told her and was tempted to tell her he’d bill her.

The way she’d talked about her twin pissed him off. Or maybe it was because of the way she’d thought he was too...dense, or blind, to figure out that Kacey was working him.

If she’d been working him.

“This is between your sister and me. I didn’t get to be CEO of a successful firm by allowing beautiful women to get me to do things for them.”

Lacey’s mouth fell open. Her brow furrowed. And he had a feeling that if Jem Bridges had been present, he might have decked him for making his wife feel bad.

He wouldn’t have blamed him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “That was uncalled for, as well. I’ll go now. See you in the morning?” He tried a grin on her. It used to be a killer with the women.

“No, I’m sorry,” she was saying, following him to the door. “I didn’t mean to imply, even for a second, that you’d fall prey to...that you were... Shit.”

“Best to quit while you’re ahead.” Jem had joined them.

“I’m making it worse,” Lacey said, grimacing as she looked between the two men. “I just... Kacey’s the sweetest, most incredible woman I know, and I don’t like her to be misjudged when she doesn’t even mean to do what she does.”

Jem’s finger covered his wife’s lips. “Believe it or not, Lacey’s the one who can go into any volatile family situation and take control,” he said to Mike. “The woman’s a marvel at mediation and tact. Just not when it comes to her sister.”

“I’m well aware of your sister’s...abilities...to allure,” Mike said, genuinely liking the couple. “I also like and respect her,” he added. “Understand that I see her in a light different than most. I see her at the Lemonade Stand giving women the ability to feel good about themselves again. She’s gentle and loving. Kind. And compassionate. There’s not an egotistical bone in her body.”

He stopped. He’d gone on far too long.

Lacey was staring at him. Openmouthed.

Jem just stood there.

“You really get her,” Lacey finally said, her voice soft.

“In Santa Raquel, at the Lemonade Stand, yes.”

“But she’s the same person...no matter where she goes. I mean, you don’t become someone different just because you get in the car and drive down the road.”

“We all have different sides,” he said, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I don’t need to see the other sides of your sister. I admire her work at the Stand. And I’m happy to help her find out who hacked into her email account.”

With that, he said good-night and got the hell out of there, hoping he hadn’t given away just how close he and Kacey were.

Walking backward on his words wasn’t something he did often. Or had to do.

He wasn’t sure how successful he’d been.

CHAPTER FIVE

“OH, SIMON, DARLING, I would never deliberately hurt you, you know that...” Kacey, or rather her on-screen character, Doria Endlin, gazed into the vivid blue eyes of Tom Cryder, the actor who played Simon Willfinder, Doria’s best friend.

And forgot her next line.

“Cut!”

Tom, who’d been holding her shoulder and leaning in almost close enough for their noses to touch, broke away and stood up. “What’s with you this morning, Kace? That’s the third time you’ve messed up. You never mess up.”

If he’d asked the question a little more quietly, or sincerely, she might have answered him.

“I’m sorry,” she said, looking between Tom and the assistant director who was running the morning’s takes.

She’d like to say she felt sick. Had a headache. Or that she was upset about being hacked.

Any of those reasons would not have been false. But they weren’t what was crapping out her work—she was too professional to let such things get in her way.

No, the problem was unreal. Couldn’t be happening. She just needed a minute alone to sort through the noise in her head.

There was no way that Simon and Michael were merging in her mind. And yet, that morning, on three separate occasions, she’d gazed at Simon and seen the look in Michael’s eyes the day before when she’d told him he was beautiful.

What was up with that?

“You ready to go again or do you need a minute?” the assistant director, Sandy Paxton, asked her.

“I’m good.” She smiled at Tom. “I’m sorry,” she said, meaning it.

He nodded. And she knew his acceptance was sincere. Tom was...Tom. But they were friends. Not like they portrayed on set—nothing that close. Still, she trusted him more than a lot of people in her world.

“Let’s do this,” Tom said, grinning, and plopped down on the sofa beside her to repeat his confession that he was developing feelings for Doria—the woman he’d been best friends with since the show’s inception.

She wasn’t sure she liked where the script was heading. Doria and Simon? Didn’t fit.

But she’d been in the daytime-show business long enough to know that if your character’s script didn’t come with continued twists and turns, you’d soon be gone.

Still... Simon?

She made it through the scene—and the rest of the morning—without mishap.

* * *

TUESDAY MORNING MICHAEL wasted no time during his breakfast meeting with a detective from the LAPD who was working on a confidential case that he didn’t want some of his peers to know about. The department had allocated funds to bring Michael’s team—in this case Michael, personally—on board.

While in town he stopped by a couple of midsize firms that kept his company on retainer to monitor their systems for signs of hacking.

He had an entire database of larger corporate accounts, too. Ones that called him when they suspected suspicious activity. Some that needed him to underwrite antivirus fixes. Or override system takeovers.

And then there were the housewives who were afraid their inordinately rich husbands were cheating on them, or husbands who wanted to know what their wives were doing online. Mike didn’t cover those jobs himself. He had a staff of four highly trained and trusted employees who did most of that work.

And that morning, for a friend, he was checking out an address from which an account had been set up with a private email account.

The IP address that had posted the Photoshopped picture of Kacey came from an internet café that was known for serving great coffee. The place hosted four public computers. Users paid for computer time by the half hour. Most paid cash. The shop’s manager, upon seeing Mike’s credentials, allowed him to take a look at all four machines and copy what he needed onto a flash drive.

As he left, Mike was toying with the idea of texting Kacey to see if she had a break for lunch so he could give her an update.

The fact that all he could tell her was that he’d checked out her sister’s home computer, and had information to peruse from the computer that had been used to send out her altered photo, gave him pause.

He’d never report back to a client with so little to offer.

He wasn’t meeting with Lacey to go through her work computer until after the office closed at five, so he had some time...

Phone in hand, pretty much convinced a text wouldn’t hurt—they sent them pretty much every day anyway, though always at her instigation—Mike felt the vibration just before his phone rang.

And switched gears completely when he saw the picture that flashed up on his screen.

“What’s up?” he answered immediately, all systems on alert, as they always were where Willie was concerned. At seventeen, the baby of the family had not yet grown up.

Or rather, he’d grown up too quickly and struggled to maintain homeostasis with a mind that didn’t quit and demons that wouldn’t let go.

“Hey, bro, not much. What’s up with you?”

He’d already glanced at his watch. “Just finished with a job. Why aren’t you in class?” Should be trigonometry. He knew Willie’s schedule down to the second.

“Yeah, well, there was a bit of a situation, bro. I was hoping maybe you could head Mom and Dad off at the pass?”

Shrugging out of his suit coat, Mike threw it on the backseat of his black BMW. “Where are you?”

“Right now?”

“Yeah, right now.” In the driver’s seat, he loosened his tie, started the car and waited for the factory-installed phone system to pick up the call.

“Right now I’m in the john.”

“What john? Where?”

“I’m at the beach, Mike. But I didn’t cut school to come here.”

“No? You just thought you had a vacation day today?”

“No.” The succinct answer, the change of tone, was a signal of its own. Turning the BMW toward the freeway heading north to Santa Raquel, Mike focused his thoughts. First things first.

“You were suspended again.”

“Yeah.”

“What for this time?”

“I told my teacher to go fuck himself.” Willie knew better than to lie to Mike. He’d give whoppers to everyone else—including their parents and school officials—but he never lied to Mike.

He always called him, too. Just not soon enough.

“Why did you do that?”

“I aced a test. He said I cheated and gave me a zero. I fail the class, I don’t graduate.”

“Did you cheat?” It wouldn’t be the first time.

“No. It was biology. I like that class.”

Though the Valentines didn’t raise any stupid kids, Willie was by far the one with the highest IQ.

“So why’d he think you cheated?” Pedal to the metal, Mike kept an eye out for cops. He did not need the time waste that would occur if he got a speeding ticket.

“Because someone else cheated off me.”

“Did you know it at the time?”

“I suspected.”

“So you made your answers accessible?”

“No. I just saw her looking over and thought she might be trying to cheat. I didn’t move to make it easier, or harder. I just kept doing what I was doing.”

Good. This one wouldn’t be too bad.

“Stay put until I get there,” he said into the phone. “And I mean put. You sit on the bench that backs up to the men’s restroom and you do not move.”

“I got it already. I wasn’t planning to go surfing, dude.”

Hanging up with Willie, he called his mother at work. After Charlie got married and then Dennis left for college, leaving only Willie at home, Darlene had gone to work full-time. She had a law degree and had worked part-time, doing research for other lawyers, but now she had her own office and a paralegal, still doing case law research for a host of firms.

He could call his father first. Matt, an architect who designed kitchens, he could be reached pretty much anytime. But when it came to Willie, Mike needed his mother to work on his father.

Besides, the school would have called her already.

“I assume you’re with him?” Darlene asked as she picked up the phone.

“I’m on my way,” Mike told her. “I was in LA.”

“I can get him.” She would. If he asked.

And Willie would cop an attitude with her. If they were lucky, he’d remain sullenly silent. If not, he’d give her a piece of his mind before she could get hers on the table.

She went too easy on him. Let him talk her down.

Both Mike and his father had told her so.

But she was a mother who understood her baby boy. She knew that his behavior stemmed from a self-hatred that tore his heart apart, and hers, as well. She couldn’t seem to get really angry with him.

His father didn’t have that problem, which made the situation that much worse. No matter how much their dad had tried to show Willie that he loved him, the boy continued to be certain that his father hated him as much as he hated himself.

For that matter, the troubled teen seemed to be pretty certain that everyone who knew him would never forgive him. Probably because he couldn’t forgive himself.

Mike knew it all. Understood it all. He just wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to be able to hold it all together for the kid.

“Just let me get you through high school,” he said aloud after hanging up from his mother. Once the boy graduated, he could leave town, and everyone who knew him, behind. Maybe in college, surrounded by strangers, he’d be able to find the sensitive, decent self that lurked somewhere inside him.

Maybe. If he’d let himself.

* * *

KACEY WAS ON edge all afternoon as she awaited Michael’s call. He’d said he was going to check out the address that morning. He’d already accessed whatever he needed from Lacey’s computer. And while he wasn’t meeting her sister at work until five, surely he had something to tell her. He was a nationally known forensic whiz when it came to computers. Something as small as a hacked email account wouldn’t stand a chance against him.

Someone was out to hurt her. She just needed to know who it was so she could figure out why and what she was going to do about it.

Luckily the set that afternoon was a diner that many of the show’s regulars frequented and she only had a couple of scenes there and just one line. Little more than a walk-on. Even better, Tom wasn’t in either of them, so no more chances for Simon and Michael to merge.

Unluckily, Michael didn’t call, text or email, in spite of the number of times she checked.

CHAPTER SIX

AS LUCK WOULD have it, Kacey was in her car, battling downtown Hollywood traffic just after six when her phone rang. Michael’s name showed up on the dash screen. Pushing the button on her steering wheel, she answered.

“Did everything go okay with Lacey?” she asked first. Her sister hadn’t texted or called to tell her Michael had been there. Not that she’d had to, but Kacey had just expected to hear.

Then again, Lacey had no idea how close Kacey and Michael had grown over the past few months. With a twinge of guilt—she and Lacey had vowed not to keep secrets from each other ever again—she listened as Michael told her he’d been in and out of her sister’s office in a matter of minutes.

“Did you get what you needed?” Looking in her rearview mirror, she switched lanes and then, when the road was clear, pulled over to a just-vacated parking spot in front of a tourist shop.

She wasn’t all that far from her Beverly Hills condo but didn’t want to have to concentrate on Michael and LA’s rush hour traffic at the same time.

“I did.”

She tried to read his tone, to know if he was being so serious because this was business or because he had bad news for her.

“Did you get the email I sent last night with the names you asked for?” She’d turned Bo down for an after-show drink and come straight home to go through emails that were well over a decade old. Reading them had made her smile. And cry a bit, too.

She and Lacey had been so incredibly close. She’d taken it all for granted. Had thought she’d never be lonely one minute in her life.

It had never even entered her mind that they’d ever be anything but famous, rich and happy.

“I saw it this morning. I haven’t been home yet to go through them.”

Because he’d been in LA. She’d been aware all morning and had purposely kept herself open for lunch in case he’d texted with news.

“Where are you now?”

It might be a nosy question, but it was one she asked often enough in the random text messages they sent back and forth.

“Just stopped home to change. I’m on my way over to my folks’ house.”

She was beginning to wonder if she would ever meet them. For some reason Michael didn’t seem keen on introducing her to his family.

“For dinner?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t sound too sure about that.”

“My kid brother got into a spot of trouble today. I promised him and Mom I’d be there to referee when Dad got home from work.”

It was more than he usually told her. She knew he had a kid brother. And that he’d gotten a tattoo on his back that Michael didn’t approve of. She didn’t know why, or even what type of tattoo it was.

“You do that often?” she asked now, picturing him as the big brother, trying to instill calm in the midst of family drama.

He’d be good at it. Lacey was, too. The best.

Kacey seemed to create the drama. Not that she meant to. Or wanted to.

“On occasion,” he said. “This time it’s for a good cause. The kid didn’t do what he’s being blamed for. Tomorrow I intend to help him prove it. I just need the old man to have faith for one night.”

Have faith. That hit home. She knew what it was like to need a family member to have faith in her when her actions hadn’t done much to inspire it.

Lacey had had faith, though. “I’m glad you’re there for him,” she said now. “He’s lucky to have you.”

Michael’s harrumph was about what she’d expected.

“I just wanted to let you know, before I go, that I don’t have good news for you, Kace.”

Her heart dropped as she watched a purple-haired, multipierced couple walk by her car, looking at her to see if she was, you know, someone.

She never left the studio in makeup or wig, and without them, could usually move around without recognition.

“What did you find out?” she asked slowly. “Who did it?”

“That’s just it. I didn’t find out who did it. I don’t know. I’ve got a couple of things yet to check, but it seems whoever posted that picture didn’t hack your email account.”

“That’s good, then, right? But I thought you said they used it to open that account...”

“It looks like they know your password, Kacey. It seems they went on the server and deleted the confirmation email that was sent to your address, which is why neither you nor Lacey ever received that email. They’d have to know your password to log on to the server.”

“But...I’ve never given that password to anyone, and I’m positive Lacey hasn’t either.”

“She said the same.”

“So where does that leave us?”

“I’ve got a couple more things I can check. Your password was so personal it’s pretty hard to believe that anyone could have figured it out even knowing you well. I’ll go through the list of names you sent, too. But in the meantime...I’m sorry I didn’t find more.”

“You’re being a great friend to me, Michael. Don’t you dare apologize.” She just wished she could be as good a friend in return. Wished he would let her get close enough to him to know what she could do to return the favor.

“Your sister tried to pay me.”

Shit. She hadn’t thought about Lacey’s penchant for detail.

“I’m so sorry, Michael,” she said, quickly. “Please don’t be offended. I just... Since you haven’t seemed to want anyone to know we’re friends, I didn’t tell Lacey how close we are. She wouldn’t insult you for the world by trying to infer that you’re no more than a business associate...”

“It’s all good,” he told her, as though that’s all that was going to be said about it.

“So...did she pay you?”

“Of course not.”

And then it occurred to her—she’d have been really hurt if Michael tried to pay her for a favor, but what if... “It won’t offend me a bit to get a bill, Michael. You know that, right?”

“You want me to send you a bill.” Statement. Not question.

Wait. Was that wrong? Oh, hell, again. She just wasn’t good at the nuances. She spent her days pretending to be something she was not in a world where what seemed right one day was suddenly twisted into wrong the next. “Honestly?”

“Wasn’t that our deal? What you asked me for? Honesty?”

“Yes.” She’d needed to have someone to tell if she drank too much. Someone to be accountable to so she’d feel like crap if she screwed up. “Honestly, it never even occurred to me that I would pay you for helping me. I mean, if you asked me to do something and then tried to pay me for it, I’d be hurt. But I don’t mean to assume, or impose or...”

His chuckle stopped her. “You’re fine, Kace. It never occurred to me that you’d pay me, either, and it would have offended me had you tried. I just wanted you to know that the issue came up, because I have a pretty good feeling your sister is going to mention it to you.”

He’d covered her ass and was still doing it. He knew how important it was to her that she not screw up or look like a loser to her sister. Ever again.

“Okay.” She watched a group of about four older couples stop and look in the window of the tourist shop. “So...for now...”

“For now there’s nothing for you to do. I’ll do my checking, but I want you to know that I’m not sure I’m going to find anything.”

“What do we do then?”

“There’s not a lot we can do. Except that I’ll keep a tight monitor on that account. If a crime had been committed, we could call the police and try to get a warrant for surveillance video from the internet café for the date and time the photo was posted, but we don’t have any evidence of a crime. One Photoshopped picture of a celebrity is not going to get anyone’s attention in LA.”

He was right, of course. “Nor should it,” she said, thinking of the rise in violent crime that was taxing a police force that was thinner than it had once been. “But what if it happens again?”

“In a way, I hope it does. Then we have more of a chance of catching whoever did it.”

“And if it doesn’t, I really don’t have anything to worry about. Lacey and I can just close that account...”

“No.” He didn’t leave room for discussion. “I’ve already told her the same thing. For now, I want you to keep sending each other emails, just as you would normally do. Just do so knowing that someone else could be seeing them.”

“Don’t say anything private,” she translated.

“Right. That way I can monitor the account. I’m not comfortable with the fact that someone went to the trouble to Photoshop a recent picture of you and then used your email account to post it. I’d like to have a shot at finding out who and why.”

Tears sprang to her eyes.

Because she’d screwed up at work. Hadn’t slept well the previous night.

But they weren’t tears of sorrow. They were tears of relief.

“You’re good for me, Michael.”

“You’re good for me, too.”

Now wasn’t the time for platitudes. “No, I really mean it. You...you’re special. Unlike anyone else in my life. I just want you to know...I don’t take you for granted. At all. I appreciate you so much...”

His long pause was no surprise. What came out of the blue, after a full thirty seconds, at least, was a response.

“I meant what I said, too, Kacey. You are good for me.”

“I don’t see how. I don’t have a lot to offer people. I can act. And I know how to dress and put on makeup. Beyond that, I’m not really trained or...aware enough to...”

“Stop. You might not have Lacey’s acute ability to read people and situations, but you’re aware, Kacey. Remind me sometime when I’m not in a hurry, and I’ll tell you how I know that.”

She’d kept him talking when he had a much more pressing matter to tend to.

“I’m sorry. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“No reason to be sorry. I changed pants while we were talking and am in my car. I’ve got another mile or so to go...just not enough time to give the conversation its proper due.”

The conversation. Him telling her that she was good for him.

She thought of the scene with Tom that morning. Her aversion to Simon telling her that he was developing feelings for her. The way she’d superimposed Michael into that scene when she’d never seen Michael in Simon—or Tom—before.

For a second, she was afraid.

And then she wasn’t. Michael wasn’t Simon. And he definitely did not have those kinds of feelings for her.

And even if he did...she could think of worse things.

A lot worse.

CHAPTER SEVEN

MIKE BROUGHT WILLIE home to spend the night with him. Ostensibly he made the offer because he was taking his brother to school in the morning to sort out the cheating issue with Willie’s biology teacher, Mr. Weatherby.

He’d been one of Mike’s favorite teachers. Aeons ago.

The underbelly truth was that their father was at his wit’s end with Willie. He’d been in and out of trouble since junior high, refused to follow even the simplest of requests like keeping his music down or honoring a curfew.

And yet he always seemed to stop far short of felony status.

At his core, Willie was a good kid, a decent human being. He just had a mountain of guilt to get over.

“Wow, who’s this babe?” his brother called out to him, and Mike’s stomach sank.

He walked from the kitchen through to the family room that was almost consumed by a wall-size screen, an entertainment center couch and a myriad of technological wonders lining the two side walls.

If Willie had his way, he’d never leave the room.

On the couch, with a state-of-the-art wireless keyboard on his lap and Mike’s computer called up on the big screen, the blond, blue-eyed high school senior was staring at the Photoshopped picture of Kacey and practically drooling.

With the push of a button on one of the many towers on a shelf next to the couch, Mike shut down the machine.

He never left his personal computer on. Never.

Except when he was talking to a woman on the phone as he was changing and was not aware he’d be bringing anyone home with him, which would have made him doubly focused on shutting everything down.

Still, if there’d been a break-in while he was gone...

Stupid. He’d been talking to Kacey and had made a stupid mistake. One that could have had repercussions for some of his clients and his business.

Most personal information was kept on secure drives at the office, and the cases he’d be working on from home were on separate flash drives. But he’d called Kacey’s up before he’d phoned her...

“Wo-ho! Man!” Willie’s chuckle didn’t sound innocent. Or kind. “You’ve got a babe? Big brother Mikey has a babe? That looks like that?”

The boy, with his long hair falling over his cheekbones and the corners of his eyes, was looking at the computer tower. The screen. Not at Mike. Never at Mike.

At least Willie wasn’t staring down at his shoes, which was where his gaze usually landed when he and Mike were in the same room.

Mike picked up the glasses of chocolate milk he’d carried in from the kitchen. He’d set them down to shut off the computer and now handed one to his baby brother.

“I do not have a babe.” That much had to be made clear from the get-go. And the rest... “You were on my computer.” The truth was safest for all concerned. “She’s a client.”

It wasn’t like Willie had ever been inside the Lemonade Stand, or would ever have cause to know any of the women or workers there. No reason to recognize Kacey.

That part of his life—the counseling and the work he did there—was his alone. Off-limits to his family.

And none of them had any knowledge of his association—his friendship—with the famous Kacey Hamilton. None of them even knew he’d met the actress.

Part of Santa Raquel’s allure to Kacey was that no one there recognized her or knew who she was. And for Lacey’s sake, they kept it that way.

Willie slurped the chocolate milk and nodded, his focus on the bottom half of the now empty screen. “Sure. That’s cool.” He mumbled something. Mike couldn’t make out the words, but the derogatory tone had him on alert.

“What was that?” he asked.

“Nothing.” Willie grabbed one of several controls in the console between the reclining seats. “Flip on the game station, man. Let’s get this night going.”

The brothers were pretty much neck and neck in a yearlong interactive world-building video game. They built police forces, got jobs, voted for politicians. They took risks and could get sick, hurt, maimed or killed. For once Mike didn’t feel like playing.

“No.” Finishing his milk, he set the cup on a side table and sat down on the couch—opposite end from his brother. “I want you to tell me what you just said.”

“Let’s get our game on, that’s what.” The boy dropped his glass in the holder and stared at it.

“Will, tell me what you said.” Why was he pushing so hard? The kid was already on the verge of complete rebellion.

“I said, ‘Of course she wouldn’t be your babe.’” He spoke in a loud voice, his head half bowed, his gaze aimed somewhere near Mike’s elbow. “It was... I just... You know, like, how great would that be...if you had a babe that looked like that.”

Willie had hoped Kacey was his girlfriend. The idea made his little brother happy. The opposite...he’d been bitter.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Willie tapped his foot on the floor and his hand against his thigh. “I shouldn’t have said it. I... Look, man...”

With another remote in hand, Mike pushed buttons and a game came on the screen. He queued it up to where he and Willie had left off. “It’s not a problem, Willie,” he said now. “And for the record, I don’t have a girlfriend because I choose not to, not because I can’t get one.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Willie grabbed a control.

And started racing his car down a busy street.

* * *

WEDNESDAY AND THURSDAY were killer days on the set. Kacey worked from seven to seven to get the week’s scenes shot within the new four-day workweek. She’d barely had time to text with Mike. The biggest news had been the name of the shop where he’d traced the IP address, an internet café not far from her condo where she sometimes took her tablet to read news while she enjoyed a cup of coffee.

Oh, and he’d been able to straighten things out with his younger brother. The kid got to stay in class. And keep his grade. Michael had said something about counting the days until graduation. He actually knew how many were left.

She loved that about him. That he cared that much. That he was so...aware.

“Now, when you first meet them, my folks can be a little overwhelming.” Bo broke into her thoughts and she was back in his Jaguar, dressed in a short tight-fitting black dress with three-inch heels and almost as much makeup as she wore on set.

Her necklace, an angel pendant with multicolored Swarovski crystals, was big and bold on her bare chest, hanging almost to her cleavage. At the last minute she’d changed the matching earrings for the ones Lacey had given her. Diamonds and Swarovski went hand in hand.

“And my brother, he can be a bit of a nerd, but he’s harmless.” Bo was embarrassed by his brother. He hadn’t said so, but the thought came to her anyway.

It wasn’t a normal Kacey observation. But then, she’d just been thinking about Michael and his brother troubles.

Mostly, she wasn’t her usual happy-go-lucky, take everything at face value self. She couldn’t shake the fact that someone was out to sabotage her. And she was exhausted.

Definitely not up to meeting the folks.

Bo reached for her hand and squeezed it. “You okay?” The smile he sent her was as gorgeous and adoring as they came.

“Of course.” Sending him an equally engaging smile, she squeezed back. She liked Bo. He seemed to support the changes she was making in her life. Sure, there was an occasion now and then when he wanted to go to an after-party and she insisted on going home.

But he was trying.

“Thank you for doing this. You have no idea how much it means to my folks.”

His words brought a bit of a clench to her heart. She and Bo...they were together, but not together together. Not yet.

She supposed they were heading that way, and wasn’t fighting the possibility. Bo, whose last gig was playing the heartthrob star of a sitcom, was currently considering his options on his way to becoming one of the nation’s top stars. Their lives would be busy and exciting and everything she’d always envisioned.

But he also had family he cared about. Down-home, earthy, real-life stuff.

Suddenly glad to do this, she gave his hand another squeeze. “I’m anxious to meet them,” she said. If she and Bo made it all the way, the people she was about to meet could be her family someday.

And she’d discovered over the past year that family was what she valued more than anything.

* * *

MIKE SAW A photo of Kacey during his routine client surfing Friday morning. He’d been searching her name continuously since their Monday lunch meeting and had seen more beautiful, sexy and revealing shots of the woman than he’d needed, if his nighttime sweats were anything to go by.

The whole thing was off. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen images of beautiful women before. To the contrary, he saw them all the time in his line of work and had pretty much grown immune to them.

But these photos weren’t of a stranger. Or even just a client. They were of Kacey. Except for the one in question, they were also all legitimately posted, including the one from the night before.

It was a seemingly random shot by a journalist who happened to be having dinner at the same place as Bo and Kacey and Bo’s parents. A common occurrence in Beverly Hills.

Still, as he dressed in jeans and a cream-colored button-down denim shirt, ran his fingers through the blond mop that had once won him a “best hair” award and headed toward the computer shop outside the Lemonade Stand, he couldn’t get the vision of Kacey’s short black dress and remarkable cleavage out of his mind.

Neanderthal had been looking at that cleavage.

Kacey’s smile was directed toward the older couple holding their hands out to her.

The caption read, “New family ties in the making?”

Had she seen it?

He couldn’t wait to hear what she had to say about the shot.

Unless she thought it was great...

Wait.

The thought stopped his self-talk cold. If she thought it was great, that was cool. Totally cool.

She was his friend. He wanted her happy.

And if joining Neanderthal’s family made her happy, then he was happy for her.

Period.

CHAPTER EIGHT

KACEY DIDN’T HAVE a lot of time in Santa Raquel on Friday. The studio benefit scheduled for that evening started with hors d’oeuvres at the home of one of the Rich and Loyal producers. They’d move from there to a yacht that would be taking them out to sea for a five-course meal. A new record label was providing entertainment. Tom and his partner were hosting one of the after-parties.

Ever since she’d asked Bo to be her date for the evening, he’d been talking about it.

Her hair appointment was scheduled for eleven and would take at least three hours. Getting highlights to look like they’d grown in wasn’t an easy task.

She had nails and a pedicure scheduled right after that, and then the appointment to pick up the dress she’d ordered. They’d need at least half an hour to make any adjustments, which was why she had her makeup person meeting her there. The jewelry she’d be wearing was already in her bag, as were the shoes and evening bag she’d bought for the occasion.

She loved the entire ritual. Had loved it even more when she and Lacey were doing it together.

Getting ready for the event was usually more fun than the event itself—a secret she and Lacey used to share.

Her class ended at nine, so that gave her a few minutes to stop by Michael’s office at the Stand.

She entered the building from the secure and private resident walkway. His office door faced the back door, and she was glad to see him sitting at his desk. Michael’s casually styled hair, the shoulders that filled out his shirt, eyes that could see all the way inside a person...

Not just her, everyone. The residents. People who worked for him at the computer shop. Customers. Everyone. He understood people.

“Hi.” Out of habit, she shut the door behind her as she stepped quietly into the room. These meetings had started by accident. They’d both been working with the same woman—a resident at the time—who’d been trying to change her lifestyle of drunkenness, as well as recover from beatings by her abusive live-in boyfriend.

In the end, she’d been one of their few failures at the Stand. She’d quit her counseling sessions, gone back to her boyfriend and drinking and, last they’d heard, had left the state with a fresh hospital record.

That failure—the first Kacey had witnessed—had hit her hard. She and Michael had been talking about it one day last fall and she’d recognized that part of the reason she was having such a hard time understanding the woman’s choices was because they hit too close to home. Not the violence part, but the allure of the blur, as she’d called it. When you weren’t happy, even when it seemed like you had everything you ever wanted, you drank or partied to blur out the sadness. To cover up what you couldn’t figure out...

Somehow from that conversation had come his offer to be her secret support system. He didn’t think she needed one at first. She wasn’t an alcoholic. Had no addiction problems. But she feared the allure of the blur would call her back.

Or maybe it had been the allure of the spotlight—of being someone that everyone wanted on their invitation lists...

“I can’t stay,” she told Michael now. “I just wanted to say hi. And see if you have anything new to tell me.”

She didn’t like how that sounded. Like he was working for her. Like she’d stopped by because he was doing a job for her. “Mostly just to say hi.”

She’d wanted to see him.

He was her friend.

“I’ve got nothing new,” he told her. “The only thing that showed up this morning was a photo from last night. And you look completely sober.”

He turned his computer screen around so she could see.

It wasn’t bad. She was smiling at Bo’s parents. His mother seemed delighted. She’d liked the woman. Quite a lot. She’d liked Bo’s brother, too. He was shy but smart. He wanted to go into politics and knew more about the state of the country than she’d ever hope to know. He was older than she’d thought from Bo’s description of him. Still in school meant college—finishing his senior year with a poli-sci major.

But Bo’s dad...

She looked away from the picture and sat down in the wooden chair in front of the scarred table that served as Michael’s desk at the Stand. She knew his company’s address and had driven by the building a few times. She’d bet the desk here wouldn’t be found in the basement of that place.

“You got a second?” she asked him.

“Of course.”

“I... Last night...Bo’s father gave me the creeps.” She told him about the man’s glances, the way she’d caught him looking at her breasts. Every time he spoke to her his words had been completely innocuous, but there was an undercurrent that made her uneasy.

“Did you talk to Bo about it?” Michael’s frown eased the tension she’d been feeling. He was taking her seriously.

As she’d known he would.

“I started to in the car on the way home,” she said. “But he interrupted and told me not to take offense at his father. Said he’s always been a big flirt but that it meant nothing. He said his dad flirts with old ladies and little girls equally. It’s just his way.”

“Where are they from?”

“Indiana.”

“And they’re leaving today?”

She loved that he remembered that she’d told him they were only in town the one night.

“Yes.”

“Then I guess you don’t have much to worry about,” he said.

He was right. Bo wasn’t his father. And it wasn’t like Indiana was just around the corner.

Nodding, she stood. When she noticed a tiredness about him, in his eyes, she sat back down. If she didn’t get her hair done, the evening would go on.

People would be bound to notice—those in her circle always did, since looks were an important part of television work—but...the party would still happen.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’d tell you if I found something.”

“I’m not talking about me. Something’s bothering you.” She might barrel through life in such a way that she didn’t always notice the little things, but Michael was...Michael. She was different around him.

In a good way.

The way she was with Lacey.

Yeah. The thought slid into place. Michael was like Lacey. He saw the real her. Treated her like the person she was inside.

And he could calm the whirlwind that was her life.

His shrug hurt her feelings.

“Michael.” She set her bag down on the floor and crossed her arms.

Her stance didn’t seem to affect him, so she waited, watching him.

Nothing.

Fine. She pulled her phone out of her purse. Pushed the speed dial for the salon and canceled her appointment.

She’d missed the cancellation window and would have to pay for the appointment but didn’t give a whit.

“You said you have time.”

His chin bent slowly and came back up. An acknowledgment if not really a nod of agreement.

“A friendship works both ways or it’s not a friendship,” she said. Now that she understood why he meant so much to her, she knew her role. It was the same with Lacey. Sometimes you had to push those used to caring for others to accept caring for themselves. You had to be diligent.

To show them that they came first, too.

She’d learned the lesson the hard way—had almost lost her other half because of it—and was never going to forget it.

“I agree,” he said.

She remembered something else.

“You told me the other day that when we had time you’d tell me how I’m good for you.”

Let him think it was still about her. That he was needed.

She’d get him to see that if she confided in him, he needed to confide, too, or they weren’t really friends. That if he didn’t lean on her, she couldn’t lean on him anymore, either.

She had this one.

She also really wanted to hear what he thought he was getting out of their relationship. As far as she could see, it was pretty much nothing so far.

Just like her sister had given and given and given and received so little in return all those years they’d been figuratively joined at the hip.

Then Kacey had helped Lacey get the only thing she’d ever wanted. A life partner with whom she’d come first. And last, too.

If not for Kacey’s pushiness, the pretty much outrageous way she’d maneuvered Lacey into getting Jem to add the room she wanted on to her home, Lacey would probably still be living in that house all alone.

Albeit with a lot more visits from Kacey...

Michael was staring at her.

“You just said you’ve got a second,” she reminded again. “So what is it I do for you in this relationship?”

“The truth is going to make me sound like someone I’m not,” he said, as though he’d revised his earlier assertion that he’d tell her.

And while she wanted to know, getting him to confess was more a means to an end—the end being making him tell her what was bothering him.

But then she thought about what he’d just said. What if the truth was that he only spent time with her because of her looks? What if he was attracted to her?

She felt the blood draining from her face and then returning in such a rush she was hot all over. This felt like the scene with Simon, Doria’s on-screen best friend telling her he was falling for her. Was that what Michael was going to say? So like her...barreling right on ahead without taking the time to think everything through.

Her first instinct was to tell him she had to leave. And yet if she and Michael really were friends, if she was going to be the type of friend—the type of woman—she wanted to be, she had to be willing to sit with him no matter what he had to tell her.

To listen.

And to work through whatever issue he had. Or they had. Anything else was not enough.

“The point of friendship, Michael, is to trust. I trust you with my failings. I trust you not to judge me as a spoiled and selfish bitch who’s so desperate for attention she falls for gorgeous men who fawn all over her.”

He cocked his head and his eyes sharpened. “You are not—”

She held up her hand. “This isn’t about me, Michael. Now, please, tell me...and trust me to know what kind of person you are.”

“I don’t want pity.”

“You think I don’t know that? And here’s a news flash. The only thing pitiful about you is your fixation with being pitied.”

He pulled back, but in the next instant grinned. “And that is what you do for me, my friend. From the first day we met, I saw a different side of myself in your eyes and I like that guy. That’s what you do for me.”

Shaking her head, Kacey frowned. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said. “I just...”

“You treat me like a man who has no reason to be pitied.”

“You are a man who has no reason to be pitied.”

“I know that,” he told her. “I truly do know that. But even the people I know, and those who meet me for the first time...they take one look at this—” he flipped a thumb toward his lower left jaw and the obvious evidence of plastic surgery, “and suddenly they’re talking to me like I’m a rescue dog.”

This was news to her. She’d only seen him at the Stand—where he was clearly hero material. And with the owner of the little diner they attended. Or alone.

She had no idea what to say.

“From day one, you’ve stood up to me, put me in my place. And treated me with respect all at the same time.”

Wow. She hadn’t planned it that way or done it on purpose. He was giving her more credit than was her due. “I was just being myself.”

“And it’s that self that I chose to take as a friend,” he returned.

“You have a successful business,” she said, needing the truth to be different and trying to convince him that it was. “You have governmental and police clearances, and obviously your clients respect you...”

“Of course they do. They respect what I can do. And it’s not as bad as it was just a few years ago,” he told her. “But there are still times when I go for a first face-to-face meet that I see the quick look away and hear that tone of instant compassion rather than the more restrained and distant tone of strangers.”

“People care that you suffered. That’s a good thing.”

Fingers crossed on top of his desk, he stared at her for a long moment.

She stood her ground, metaphorically speaking.

And he smiled. “You’re right. And this is what I’m talking about. Everyone else in my life—including my family—is afraid to talk to me about my deformity. You just barrel right in.”

“I don’t see a deformity.”

“You see skin that won’t ever grow a beard.”

“Personally, I can’t stand beards, or mustaches, either.” She really did fall for men with clean-shaven faces but was afraid he’d think she was just saying so. “I mean...it gets me, you know...thinking about him blowing his nose and... Ew.” She broke off, embarrassed by her rambling.

“And anyway, do men ever think about how soft a woman’s skin is? And how scratchy those things can be? You want whiskers poking your nose when you kiss? Or poking other parts of you when...”

Oh. My. God. What was she doing? She could not be talking to Michael about how much she hated the feel of a beard during sex. Lacey, yeah, she could talk to her about such things.

But here was one area where Michael wasn’t like Lacey.

She couldn’t talk to him like she could her sister when it came to...sex. Or periods or hormones, either, she added just in case her psyche hadn’t yet fully grasped the magnitude of the revelation.

And then it dawned on her. She was busy thinking about herself, her own gaffe, and Michael had just opened the door she’d been knocking on all these months.

As kind as he was, he sat silently. So him, not making her outburst worse by responding to it.

So her to focus so intently on herself.

But he was giving her a chance to get over herself.

“Will you tell me about it, please?” she asked. Not with pity. Not with curiosity, either, but because she cared. “You seem to think it somehow defines you, Michael. And maybe it does. But I can’t know that if I don’t know what happened in your past to make you what you are today.”

Realizing that she was talking about so much more than looks, Kacey held her breath.

And prayed that if Michael granted her request, she wouldn’t fail him.

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