Page 1 of Charmed by You

Prologue

I never believed in love. Why would I when the only loveI ever saw was pretend?

I’d watched my parents pretending, and I’d known itwasn’t real.

I stood under hot lights in front of a camera, fakingemotions from the time I was five.

I screamed in fury, kissed with passion, and burned withthe need for revenge.

I loved deeply. Rapturously.

Jealously flowed through my veins along with need andlonging and violent lust.

But it was never real. Not under those lights with thecameras running and the crew standing silently nearby.

And certainly not in the world outside the sound stagewhere I drew men close, wanting to lose myself in the forgetfulness of lust andpassion, but never wanting them to know me, much less love me.

I was hollow. Alone.

Then he came along, all strength and icy determination.As bold and brash as a leading man. He promised to keep me safe. And thoughthere’s no denying the attraction between us, he told me to keep my distance.

I tell myself I don’t want him.

I know that I can’t love him.

But, oh, how I wish that I could.

Chapter One

Get a grip, Frannie. You’ve got this.

I stand in my kitchen and draw in a breath, determined tolisten to my own pep talk. Yes, it’s a threat. But that doesn’t mean I have tobe scared.

And even if I am scared, that doesn’t mean I have to showit.

I’m a good actress, after all. I know this. Hell, everyoneknows it. I’ve been in front of the camera my whole life—literally. My littletush was filmed on many a changing table for diaper commercials, and I was thebaby or toddler in so many Law & Order-type shows I can’t evenremember them all.

Granted, that was more like modeling, not acting. But I’vebeen doing the real thing—stepping into another persona, acting the part—sinceI was six and landed my first soap opera. At nine, my character died in atragic helicopter crash, but that was okay. I’d been noticed, and after that,I’d played the perky elementary-age daughter in many a big-screen rom com, thenthe best friend, then the love interest.

And, of course, there’s Bright Eyes, the familysitcom that centered around the Bright family with the single dad and sevendarling kids who were more than a handful. I was ten when I landed the role ofKelly Bright, the second youngest daughter. That show ran for a decade, andeven though so much of it was hell, the bottom line is that I kicked seriousacting ass, even parlaying that part into bigger movie roles.

Basically, I worked my tail off. I listened to my directors,took classes, and honed my craft. I’ve won Emmys and Academy Awards and ravesfrom critics all over the globe.

Bottom line? I know how to act. More important, I know howto fake it.

And yet here I am standing in my very own house withabsolutely no idea of the part I should be playing.

I draw a deep breath, then look around the kitchen. I’dsupposedly come in here to top off my orange juice, but that had just been thebest excuse I could come up with in the moment.

The real reason was to get away from the cabal forming in mydining area—the slew of friends and security specialists sitting around mydining table as they bang out ideas for how to keep me alive.

Alive.

Someone is trying to kill me, and the blow or the bullet orthe poison or whatever could come from anywhere at any time. I’ll have nowarning. No control. And that team in there is supposed to protect me, but I’mnot running that show either. They’re just taking over, doing all the things tokeep me safe. To keep me managed.

I shudder, but whether it’s because of fear from the crypticnote or the hard memory of my father’s controlling hand, I really don’t know. Igasp, suddenly lost in the past, and the glass I’m holding slips through myfingers and breaks on the Italian marble floor.

I gape at the mess of glass and OJ at my feet, then jumpwhen one of the Stark Security guys bursts through the door. He’s tall andmuscular, with thick honey-blond hair and green eyes with the kind of gloriouslashes I pay a small fortune for. I can’t recall his name, though it’s on thetip of my tongue.