“Are you sure?” Becky asked Mona. It was close to two-thirty in the morning, but she was too hyped up to sleep.

“Yes,” Mona growled. Jonathan was staying with her mother. “Time to sleep, Becks.”

“Tell me what you meant by the way he looked at me.”

“It wasn’t creepy, okay? It was sort of cute, like he was in a trance.”

“But he told me he had no idea who I was.”

“Then he didn’t. What does that have to do with anything?”

“But you said he was staring, like he knew?”

“No, he didn’t know. You are a gorgeous woman, Becks. I might not always agree with what Mervyn is on about, but we do agree on that. You don’t look forty. Honestly, you really could pass for someone in her late twenties. Besides, a ton of guys have declared their undying love for you in your fan mail—the ones I don’t let you see.”

“Well, thanks for telling me that.”

Mona got up. “So, I take it we’re not going to sleep tonight. Want some tea?”

“Sorry.” Becky shot her a sheepish grin. She didn’t want to keep Mona awake, but she was reeling from the information that Jack had been the guy Mona had caught staring at her at the steakhouse over a month ago.

She’d been dead-on about him being Jullian-slash-Frederick with Jason Momoa’s manliness. That described Jack to a T. She’d for sure write him into her next novel; he was handsome as hell.

He would become one of her future characters, one her readers would adore, she was certain of it. And all because a part of her was already smitten with him.

If she truly, down to her soul, adored a character she created, her readers would feel exactly the same.

She was already jumping twenty steps ahead, but that was just how her writer brain worked.

It wasn’t hard picturing herself with someone like him, but contrary to popular belief, not everyone wanted a celebrity lifestyle.

From the look on his face when he realized how serious the situation was, she doubted he’d ever again look at her like he had when she was playing with Jonathan.

No one in their right mind would sign up for her crazy life. She certainly hadn’t.

Often, she’d wonder how everyone else managed it. They seemed to love it. She didn’t.

“You okay?” Mona asked.

She shook her head as tears filled her eyes.

“Oh, honey, come here.” Mona pulled her close and wrapped her arms around her.

She’d never have a normal life again. That was only meant for her characters in their silly love stories.

She would never meet a Jullian or a Frederick, never find her happily ever after, and never end up with someone as sweet as Jack Priestley.

He’d been right—her life was depressing. Everyone thought fame and fortune was glamorous, but it was so far removed from it that it was sad.

“I want to go home.”

“Okay, I’ll arrange it.”

She’d barely set foot through the front door when FireQuill Studios phoned to apologize in regards to Paul.

Luckily, she wouldn’t have to deal with him again, but as far as her project went, he was off it with immediate effect.

She’d only be dealing with Dave, the other executive who always worked on her adaptations, for the upcoming production in two months.

But they wanted her back in New York.

“Just give me two days. My children are starting to forget what I look like.”

She’d need a long break after this, with no more productions and books lined up.

When Friday rolled around, she had no choice but to kiss her kids goodbye again. And when they didn’t even seem the slightest bit disappointed that she was leaving, the heavy weight of guilt settled over her. They were so used to her being gone, they didn’t seem to care.

How on earth would she ever make it up to them?

She felt like a failure in the one thing she’d never thought she would—motherhood.

Mervyn met her at the airport and took her through the VIP entrance.

Perusing the large and well-appointed lounge, she shook her head. She had never wanted this. In fact, she would give anything to be crammed into an uncomfortable chair in a busy terminal waiting for her coach flight, with no one any the wiser as to who she was.

In her heart, she was still the Rebecca Finlay who’d played in the mud with pigs as a child.

She had no idea who this Rebecca was, the one the world saw, and she would never see herself as being famous.

But here she was, a mess and a sad fucking case.

She didn’t even feel like writing another word, thanks to the world.

All she wanted to do was quit.

But she couldn’t. Quitting would make her a true failure.

She was a writer in her soul—quitting wasn’t an option.

Her mind drifted to Jack, though drifted wasn’t quite the right word, since he hadn’t left her mind since she’d met him.

He had been so nice to her that evening. She’d liked how he’d treated her—like a normal human being made of flesh and bone, whose pee was the same color as everyone else’s, and whose shit didn’t smell like roses.

It was no use.

Men like him didn’t need women like her. Men like him would feel degraded, because women like her earned more money than they did.

Phil had felt that way. She’d known a part of him had resented her for that fact, even though he’d never thrown it in her face. He’d just kept on loving and treating her like a normal person.

He would probably be just as disappointed in all that was her life now. The twins weren’t happy with her, that much she knew, and she felt utterly clueless.

She should give Dr. Phil a call and ask for tips, positive he’d take her call.

“Hey,” Mervyn greeted her.

“Hey, yourself.” She gave him a small smile.

“I don’t like this sad puppy look.”

“Me, neither. But it’s how I feel. I can’t pretend anymore. What happened at the Boathouse really shook me.”

“Babe, your signings are worse than that.”

“Yes, but that wasn’t a signing, Mervyn. It was a night out.”

“I know. But you know it can happen at any time.”

“Not like that. Never like that.”

He hugged her, offering her some comfort.

“You’re Rebecca Finlay. When is it going to sink in that you are bigger than the fucking Titanic?”

She laughed through her sadness. “Not the Titanic, too.”

It was his turn to laugh.

“Face it, babe. You’re just as worthy of being front page news, more so than all the other sad, A-list celebs.”

“But at least they know how to act.”

“Then take a few acting classes. It’s more common than you might think. It helps you cope.”

“I don’t want acting lessons.”

“It’s just an option. I don’t want you to start drinking and popping pills. You’re stronger than that.”

She glared at him. “Popping pills, really?”

“It’s an expression,” he said, backpedaling hard. “Mona’s waiting at the hotel. She’s been bombarded with calls the last few days. She needs an assistant ASAP.”

“Fine, I’ll get her one.”

“ASAP.”

“Yes, ASAP. How is the Boathouse?”

He gave her a smug, knowing grin. “You mean your hobo man?”

She snorted as he led her out of the entrance to where the limo waited.

“He had to shut down for a couple of days.”

“That bad?”

“It’s what happens when your staff gets such a generous tip.”

Flabbergasted, she stopped walking. “Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah. From what I heard, a lot of them quit, so he had to find more.”

“He must hate me.”

“Maybe a little.” He nudged her, and they got moving again.

“Did you try to fix it?”

“No, Mona did. He wanted to know how you were holding up. She said he looked sad when she told him that you’d gone back home.”

“He was disappointed?”

“Babe, you’re not the only one who fell for someone that night. I, for one, think he fell for you the moment he laid eyes on you. And he didn’t even know who you were.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So, is he going to become a character in an upcoming bestseller?”

“Without a doubt. The novel is already up here”—she tapped the side of her head—“but I’m scared to put my words onto paper.”

“Don’t be. Your stories are excellent. Just type from the heart.”

“That’s the problem. If I do that, he’ll know it’s about him.”

---

Jack couldn’t get Rebecca out of his mind. She occupied every single brain cell, every single minute of the day.

Why did she have to be so fucking famous?

It was funny how things worked. When he’d been trying to find his mystery woman, he couldn’t find not one damn trace of her. But since that night at the Boathouse, her face had been everywhere—on TV, on posters in every bookstore he walked past. Everywhere he went, there she was. It was driving him insane.

And she wasn’t the only woman driving him insane. MJ had been hinting that she wanted more out of their relationship, and it was suffocating him.

When she told him she was going away for the weekend, he’d sighed in relief, happy that he wouldn’t have to deal with her blabbing. He felt free.

He needed to tell her that whatever it was they had wasn’t headed anywhere, that their spark had fizzled out. There was no future for them. But he’d have to do it gently. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her feelings.

Rebecca was different, though. He knew she was a dead end; nothing could come from his infatuation with her…

But he wanted her so badly.

She was all over YouTube. He followed her podcast where she discussed her writing journey, the inspiration for her stories, and behind-the-scenes info regarding all her movies.

She was so raw and open, and treated her fans like they were a part of her life.

It was her own fault she was so well-known, so famous. She hadn’t just made him fall for her.

She’d made the entire world fall for her.

Her books were something, too. He’d already listened to three in a short amount of time and couldn’t get enough.

To think that those emotions and characters, those words, sprang from his barefoot angel…overwhelmed him.

No wonder she was at the top of the food chain. She worked her ass off, pouring all her passion into her books.

There wasn’t any information on her kids on the Internet or anywhere else he looked, other than the mention that she had two children, and that every novel she wrote was dedicated to them.

Zach, don’t become a bad boy… Chloe, you are my world…

Those kinds of sentiments.

Jack desperately wanted to get to know her, but her world would swallow him whole.

He turned his mind back to his restaurant. Didn’t have a choice, really, or he’d never get anything done. She was consuming his thoughts.

Fortunately, the Boathouse would be back in business by tomorrow night. He’d been lucky to find eager workers and fast learners to take the places of the staff who had walked out on him. Luckily, not everyone had left him in the lurch. Masterson and Lilly had stayed, as well as a handful of the line cooks, servers, and two bartenders. But he’d had to replace the rest. The Boathouse couldn’t function on a skeleton crew.

Lilly had invested her money in cryptocurrency, then decided to forget about it. The money, not Rebecca Finlay. She couldn’t shut up about her; she was even worse than April.

His mother was just as bad. She kept showing her friends the selfie Rebecca had taken with him, which led to every damn person telling him they made ‘such an adorable couple’.

She kept badgering him to get in touch with the woman somehow. So obsessed was she, she’d kill to have Rebecca Finlay as her daughter-in-law, even though there was nothing going on between them. Not surprisingly, the fact that the woman was eight years older than he was, didn’t matter to her in the least.

Thinking about all of these things, he snorted, and a chuckle escaped his lips. What had he done to deserve a crazy-ass family like his?

He hadn’t spoken to Adrian further about her, but his brother knew better than to ask. It was one of the many things he treasured about his twin; Adrian knew when not to push.

The following two months and three weeks couldn’t go by fast enough. He could not wait to see his brother and have actual face-to-face conversations.

A knock at the door brought Jack back to the present. He ignored it, but it grew more persistent. Whoever it was made it clear they wouldn’t stop until he answered.

Resigned, he hauled himself to his feet and threw open the door, revealing…well, a human. He or she was decked out in running gear, that much he could see, but the bulky jacket made it hard to discern who it was.

The neon yellow spandex tights hurt his eyes, but the shoes seemed expensive.

“We’re closed.” He leaned on the doorframe as he spoke.

“Sorry.” Rebecca’s voice emerged from the mountain of athletic clothes. “I hope it wasn’t my doing.”

She was back!

His heart skipped a beat at seeing her. “Are you referring to having dished out your money like candy?” He smiled. “Come in, before the crazies show up on my doorstep.”

“You live here?” She stepped through the doorway, unwrapping a ridiculously long scarf from her head.

He laughed. “No. Kind of. I do sleep here from time to time.”

“You are really kind, especially after the fiasco the other night. Mervyn told me about your staff. You have to believe me when I tell you it wasn’t my intention.” Her voice was anxious.

“It’s okay, Rebecca. But in future, please let me know before you do something like that again.”

“You have my word,” she said, eyes candid and wide. “I’ll ask first. Are you really closed?”

“Yeah. I had staff to train.”

“Lilly?”

“No, she’s one of the few who stayed. She put all her money in cryptocurrency.”

“My kind of gal,” Rebecca joked.

He laughed. He’d said the exact same thing when Lilly had told him that. It seemed Anna was right when she’d said they were similar. And that irked him.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“Water, please. I jogged here.”

His eyebrows knit together. “In that bear thing you’re wearing?”

“Hardly, but it feels like it could be a bear. Perks of my world.” She gave him a lopsided grin.

When she peeled the jacket off, Jack’s laughter died in his throat, and his eyes raked over her body.

How on earth is she forty?

She quirked an eyebrow and tilted her head when she caught him staring.

“Sorry.” He grinned sheepishly.

“It’s okay. It’s not like you’re the first guy to stare at me. Apparently, I receive proposals from all over the world.”

“Apparently?”

“Mona and Mervyn handle my creepy fan mail. I have no interest in knowing about that.”

He blinked. “Can I ask you a stupid question?”

“There is no such thing as a stupid question. Go ahead. I’ll try not to give you a stupid answer, though.”

“Please do not be offended, because in truth, it’s actually a compliment.”

“Okay…?”

“Are you really forty?”

She laughed. “Oh, goodness. Mervyn keeps telling me I look twenty-six, and sometimes I think he really believes I’m that age, because he drags me to nightclubs and so on. But I’m far from twenty-six. I really am forty. They say it’s the new thirty, although I don’t feel that young, either.”

“You don’t?”

“Heck, no. Sometimes I feel ancient.” She rubbed a hand over her face, wiping the lingering droplets of sweat from her forehead.

“You don’t look ancient. My sister-in-law has actually begged me to find out your beauty secret. She’s convinced you’ve found the Fountain of Youth.”

She chuckled. “I wish I had. My life would be less tiring. I just watch what I eat, work my ass off—literally—at the gym every day, and stay active.”

“Active, as in how?” He winked, his tone turning suggestive.

“Ugh, all you men are the same.” She gave him a thoroughly disgusted—yet at the same time slightly amused—look. “Nothing sexual. Sheesh, I have two teenagers at home.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Who said anything about sex? I just wanted to know what you do when you’re not writing.”

She straightened her posture. “I am high on life.”

“Sure, high on life it is. Still or sparkling?”

“Still, please.”

He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and handed it to her. “Would you like a glass, or is straight out of the bottle fine?”

“Bottle is fine, thanks.” She twisted the cap open and guzzled it down as if she were a sponge.

He studied her as she drank, his gaze taking in her sexy curves in her tight running clothes. He desperately wanted to skim his hands over her skin to see if it felt as soft as it looked.

“Sorry, my water ran out on Fifth.”

He snapped his gaze back to hers. “How far did you run?”

“Five miles, more or less.” She shrugged.

“I’m tired just thinking about five miles. Another?”

“Please,” she gasped.

He handed her another bottle.

“I’ve heard you mention your sister, April, and a sister-in-law, so I’m assuming you have a brother. Any other siblings?”

“Oh, my parents were jackrabbits.”

Becky choked on her water, almost spraying him with it, too. “Seriously?” she said, once she stopped coughing.

“Five. I’m the eldest.” He hesitated for the briefest of moments. “Then it’s my brother Adrian, who lives in Australia with his wife Anna, followed by my three psycho sisters.”

“I met April,” she said in a bright voice. “She didn’t seem crazy at all. She was so nice to me, and she didn’t make a fuss when she recognized me. And she’s keeping an important secret for me.”

He roared with laughter. “So…you really shared secrets with her?”

“Yes. She was nice.”

“She’s going around talking about you as if the two of you are best friends.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.” She waved her hand nonchalantly.

“No wonder you’re so famous.”

Her smile was strained. “Yeah, I really didn’t bargain on that part, but what can I do? My only option would be to stop writing.”

“Don’t even think about it. My family would die if that happened.”

She flushed. “When I started writing, I never thought my books would sell like they have. In the beginning, everything remained relatively normal, but then it all exploded. But just so you know, it’s never been as bad as it was here the other night. It’s only just started sinking in that I can’t go out in public without some sort of disguise.”

“You should sue bookstores for plastering your face on all their windows, and the billboards that announce your latest releases. I think they’re confused about how they want to sell you.”

She scowled. “Oh, that would be my amazing publisher. They’re just riding the wave. I signed a contract, so I can’t do anything about that. They’re basically just thickening the plot of my life. Sometimes, it’s like I’m a character in one of my books, with no idea who the heck is writing my story and in charge of my life, or where I’m going to end up. I feel bad for all my characters now.”

Jack just looked at her, like she was insane. “Okay, you are just as crazy as my family.”

“Story of my life. You have to admit, though, that life would be boring as hell without a little bit of crazy,” Rebecca said.

“Is that what you tell yourself when those wild fans follow you?”

“Hey, I have to tell myself something.”

Their banter was interrupted by a loud pounding on the door.

Rebecca groaned, and ended up sounding like a wounded cat.

“What was that?”

“My frustration. Sorry.”

“Should I open the door?”

“You better. He won’t go away, otherwise.”

Understanding dawned. “I’m guessing it’s Mervyn.”

Her nod was his confirmation.

Jack headed to the door, and before he’d even opened it fully, Mervyn leaned in and spoke with urgency. “Please tell me she’s here.”

“Yeah? How much is that information worth to you?”

“Ha-ha. Very funny,” Mervyn said, pushing his way inside.

“Crazy Two isn’t coming?”

Mervyn laughed. “No, just me.”

“Crazy Two?” Becky asked.

“Mona.” Mervyn winked.

Becky paused a beat. “Who’s Crazy One?”

Mervyn just stared at her.

“You’re both mean,” she huffed.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I told you I wanted to apologize.”

“Honey…honey…honey,” Mervyn sighed. “That’s why you have Crazy Two and me.”

“Mona isn’t crazy, and neither am I. I will do my own apologizing.”

Jack watched their banter with a perplexed smile on his face. It was like watching a tennis match.

“I’m only looking out for you,” Mervyn argued.

“No, you are not. Mervyn, you’re trying to change me. It’s not who I am. You are not my slave, you are my agent.”

Jack hadn’t expected that. “He’s your agent?”

“Do you have a problem with agents?”

“Kind of. They’re crazy.”

Becky laughed in Mervyn’s face. “He really is funny.”

“Oh, I bet,” Mervyn muttered. “Why do you think agents are crazy?”

“Because they can’t keep out of my boathouse. Always trying to sell me fame and fortune.”

“To do what?”

“Not very smart, are you?”

Becky spat out her water.

“You should do stand-up, seriously. I’m busy. Believe me, Becky is a full-time job. So, why are agents after you?

“Sheesh, Mervyn, don’t prove him right,” Becky said. “He’s a damn chef, and just look at him. Sex on legs, plus food. How do you not realize he’s star material?”

Jack laughed. “Woah. I didn’t except that to come out of your mouth. You’re quite forward, aren’t you?”

“Hey!” she complained. “That was a compliment, just like the one you gave me.”

“That was a compliment.”

“Then accept mine. I took yours in stride.”

“Celebrity chef?” Mervyn finally caught up. “How many agents are after you?”

“Way too many.”

“So why haven’t you signed with anyone?”

“Because I’m not interested.”

“Do you even know how big you could become?”

Jack crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, I got a taste of it the other night trying to get her out of here. No, thank you.”

“C’mon, Jack.”

“Forget I said anything, or I’ll chuck you out like all the rest.”

“I’m sure you’ll change your mind. Or maybe Becky will change your mind for you.”

“Excuse me?” Rebecca’s stunned voice interrupted.

“Admit it, it’s not that bad.”

“I’d do anything to escape the trappings of my life, and you want me to tell him how wonderful it is? Hell, no.”

“But I’m the best agent out there.”

“Yes, you are, but fame and fortune are overrated.”

“They’re not that overrated,” Mervyn countered.

“Yeah, you love it. I don’t.”

“Do you guys want me to leave so you can sort this out?” Jack asked, though watching them amused him.

“No. But I’m not the kind of guy who gives in easily, Jack.”

“Me, either.”

“Good. I’m going to love reeling you in.”

Becky pleaded, “Don’t fall for it. He’s great at selling himself. He should be a manwhore.”

Jack’s eyes grew huge at her verbiage, but he chuckled, anyway.

“Well, I’m not. I’m a fucking agent,” Mervyn stated with authority.

“You should’ve kept your mouth shut.” Rebecca smirked.

Jack nodded. “Yeah, I’m starting to get that feeling, too. But my answer is still no.”