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“Oh, Michael, that’s fine! What you’re doing, it’s far more important than social eating.”
Was that what it was called? It felt far more important to him.
Probably it was just as well that he had to cancel.
“I’m guessing you’ll be pretty much tied up for the rest of the weekend?” she asked. And while the compassion in her tone was doing good things to him, he wished she sounded at least a little disappointed.
“He’s seventeen and has his own truck, though I’m the keeper of the keys for now. It’s not like he needs a babysitter. But I think, at least while he’s getting settled in, it’s best if I hang around.”
“I agree completely,” she said. He n
eeded more.
“You can call, though.”
“I know that, can’t you tell?” She chuckled.
He ached.
A warning signal went off in a part of him he had no time for. “And we can meet at Little’s one day next week, depending on your call schedule.” He sounded pathetic. A respected and highly successful businessman known for his calm demeanor was begging like a puppy.
“I’ve got a packed week, but I’ll let you know if anything changes.”
“I’ve got an afternoon meeting in LA on Wednesday—after I get Willie to the Lemonade Stand,” he offered.
“Text me, at least,” she said. “I’ll call if I can get away.”
He’d thought, maybe, they’d meet. At the café she frequented not far from her condo. He could sell it to himself as working—finding out where she sat. How close she was to the public computers. See if, sitting there again, she remembered anything.
But he knew he was stretching thin. Too thin. He wasn’t a cop. And so far, they only had uncomplimentary photos of a celebrity on their hands. Nothing anyone would even notice if it wasn’t Kacey who was trying to change her image, and him, who was...
He stopped. A friend. He was a friend.
“In the meantime, 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 he 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.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ON MONDAY, A third photo showed up. Kacey had gotten a text from Michael, but she heard about it from her agent first, because the woman happened to be on set. She didn’t get Michael’s text until she was back in her dressing room. And then looked at her email for Google alerts, just in case there was more than what she’d been sent.
After the restful family weekend with her folks and Levi, the last thing she wanted was to deal with Hollywood smut. She just wanted to don Doria Endlin’s clothes, her persona, and bring her to life in a way that made her real to the millions of viewers who’d made her part of their lives.
She wanted to entertain. It was what she did best. Maybe the only thing she did well. She effervesced. Naturally. That was her talent.
Not that she had any reason to feel sorry for herself. She led a blessed life.
With that thought firmly in mind, she told her agent that she had an investigator working on the photo situation. The woman barely shrugged. Any publicity was good publicity as far as she was concerned. And she really didn’t see the harm in the photos. People expected television stars to live large and party hard.
Kacey didn’t want to be defined that way, because she was coming to realize that she really did want to be more like Lacey. To have the family and home life that Lacey had.
Waa, waa, waa. There she was crying again. Being selfish.
