Kasee knew the best time to persuade Brock Noonan, the showrunner and executive producer of Ladies of Baltimore, to do something was just after lunch. He was one of those old-school lunchtime schmoozers and drinkers and could always be found very loose and relaxed around two p.m. Not only that, his secretary was a smoker and Kasee knew how to time her entrance just right, so that she could breeze into his office while the doorkeeper was polluting the air around the delivery entrance in the back of the building.

Accordingly, she entered the squat office structure at ten to two, went up to the third floor, and had seated herself on one of Brock’s visitors’ chairs before he knew what had hit him. She wore a pale pink shift dress, pearls, and tall pumps, the very picture of a lady.

“Kasee,” he said warily, pushing a pile of papers off to the side of his blotter. About Keith’s age, he hadn’t aged quite as well.

She noted he had a new spider vein apparent on his cheek. Must have been hitting the bottle pretty hard these past few months. She leaned forward and cooed, “Brock, love, handsome as ever.”

He didn’t rise like he would have a year ago. No cheek kissing, no expression of delight. But he wasn’t calling security, either. It was a start.

“What can I do for you?” He checked his gold tank watch deliberately.

“That’s new.” She lifted her chin in the direction of the watch.

“Gift from the network,” Brock mumbled.

She forced enthusiasm into her voice, channeling her friend Louise with a bottle of wine in her. “That’s great! And you always said they forgot about you in this distant outpost.”

He looked at his pile of papers. “Show did well.”

“In no small way thanks to me,” she said, projecting confidence.

He held up a warning hand. “Kasee.”

“I never actually touched Tammy,” she reminded him, refusing to be shamed. “No physical contact, no charges brought against me.”

“True, but—”

She stared at his lifted hand until he returned it to his desk. “I know two things. One, you haven’t started filming group scenes yet, and two, I have a fantastic new storyline for myself. All you have to do is start shooting scenes with me again. Ratings gold, I promise.”

Brock rolled his eyes and propelled his wheeled desk chair to the drinks table he kept in the corner, just under the window. His disinterest in walking probably accounted for the new five pounds straining above his belt. He poured himself something out of a glass decanter and knocked it back. “You want something?”

“No, I only drink on the job.”

He coughed and returned to his desk, leaving the dirty glass on the table. “Loose women make good television, but you really scared us, Kasee. Tammy and Keith said they wouldn’t sign the second season contract unless you were fired.”

“And you did, and they did, so now you can sign me again.”

“They don’t want you in the same room as them,” he said, bluntness slurred by alcohol.

“They can’t prevent it anyway. Not all of our friends deserted me.” Most did, of course, but there was still a chance she’d be invited a few places where the cameras would film. At least, people would invite her to charity events for one more season, to see if she had enough money from her divorce settlement to keep donating to their causes.

Brock made a noncommittal noise, but he folded his hands on top of the desk, his listening pose.

“My Q rating is much higher than Tammy’s,” Kasee said, referring to the American fan familiarity metric.

“But lower than your husband’s,” Brock reminded her.

Of course. He’d been a celebrity before the show began. “This show is about the women, not the men.”

“It’s the total package. Don’t kid yourself.”

She ran with his phrase. “Okay, so let me pitch you a new total package. Me, the disgraced ex-wife, starting over. And how do I start over? I humiliate myself in front of the paparazzi! I make a pass at Sky Mitchell!”

Brock blinked. “This is your plan?”

“No, this is the part that happened yesterday, which led to my romantic do-over. Look.” She pulled a slightly fuzzy photograph of Dion Hamilton out of her purse. She’d printed it off of his website, but onto regular copy paper, so it had not come out very well.

Brock took the sheet. “Who is this?”

“The paparazzo. Hot, right? A little younger than me, bi-racial, spends his days chasing celebrities.”

“And?”

“I’m pitching an interracial romance, Brock! You know how much flack the show took last season for only having Stephanie Steele to represent the African-American population. From what I’ve heard you haven’t replaced me, which means you are down to four main cast members, and that isn’t enough.”

“We are watching a couple of the supporting ladies carefully. When we get closer to the air date, we’ll move one or two of them up to lead status.”

Kasee fisted her hands under the desk, careful not to shred her hosiery. “I’m a much better bet. Disgraced, crazy me, a bi-racial boyfriend, a possibility for some wild celebrity drama.”

“I don’t know.” His eyes fluttered shut for an instant.

“Tell Keith and Tammy they’ll get to spend the season humiliating me! What’s their storyline anyway, without me? Middle-aged newlyweds. Boring.”

“Tammy is only twenty-nine, and her first shots of the season were her going through breast implant surgery.”

Kasee wrinkled her nose. “Gross. She should just get treatment for her eating disorder instead. That would allow her to put weight on.”

Brock gestured at her chest. “Yours aren’t fake?”

“No, I have Giselle Bündchen’s body type.” She waited patiently while Brock, the pig, checked her out. “As if you haven’t perused my measurements before.”

“I’m sure they are in the file somewhere, along with anything else we can use to build a storyline. Did you lose weight or gain with your divorce?”

“Neither. Too much self-control.” And no more budget for those fancy restaurant dinners, which she’d always had to spend a week working off.

Brock shook his head. She could see weariness setting in. Time for his nap. And she couldn’t risk him getting tired of her again.

“One chance. One shoot. You don’t even need to spend the time documenting our relationship yet,” she urged. “Just a group scene. Check us out together. He’s absolute eye candy.”

Brock took a deep breath through his nose. It whistled. “Fine. Day after tomorrow. There is a dinner party at a restaurant on North Charles Street. Private dining area set off from the main area. We’ll see how Keith and Tammy react when you arrive.”

She bounced in her seat, just barely stopping her hands from clapping together. She had a shot at getting her job back! “Do you want me to behave, or not to behave?”

Brock made a few keystrokes on his open laptop and turned it around on his desk. He’d pulled up an eastern seaboard gossip blog. And there she was, her mouth open, right next to Sky Mitchell’s ear. That heavyset guy, a follower or bodyguard, already had his hands on her waist, pulling her away. The photographer had framed the shot brilliantly.

They had been snapping her all along and she hadn’t realized it. How kind of them to sell that shot instead of one of her panties. She liked this Dion Hamilton better every minute. “I look good crazy,” she said. “The Botox keeps my face in check, and there isn’t an ounce of fat on me.”

“Your ass looks spectacular. Just be yourself,” Brock said, closing the computer’s lid. “That’s all we ever ask of you.”

~

Dion turned away from his laptop when his cellphone rang. He checked the caller ID. His mother. Before picking up the phone, he checked the time. Seven-thirty p.m., that time of day where his mother had just found her happy spot with a few dinner drinks but hadn’t yet drank herself to sleep.

“Hi Mom.” He signed out of the website where he’d just uploaded ten decent pictures of Baltimore sports stars that he’d taken during a team practice, thanks to being friends with the assistant coach.

“Johan is asking for you,” she said.

Instinctively, he rated her voice for slurs and depression. She sounded clear enough, but definitely tired. “I’ve been working around the clock, Mom. Now that it’s April people are on the streets. It’s time to make some money.”

The real reason for her call appeared. “I do need some help, if you have a few extra dollars,” she said, sounding a little sharper now.

“What do you need?” Always something, but he couldn’t blame her. She’d been widowed when Johan was only ten, and taking care of a Down’s child took more than most people could manage as it was. At least Dion had been nineteen and out of the house by then, no longer a financial burden.

“I need some extra caregiver hours from the agency this month, but I don’t have any more state money. Can you help me out? It’s twenty dollars an hour.”

 “When do you need to be away? Maybe I can be with him.”

“I’m sure your time is worth more than twenty dollars, Dion.” Her tone went snarly. “I know you make good money.”

Ah yes, there was the anger, as the wine kicked in. “Sometimes I do. It’s been a lean winter. I make most of my money in three seasons.” If he felt Johan would be safe with him out of town, he’d head to Los Angeles for the winter, but his mother fell sometimes when she was drunk. Last November she’d been in the hospital for four days after a head injury.

“Maybe you should move home in the winter.”

“And lose my apartment? No, I’ve lived here three years.” He’d been on the waiting list for this studio apartment near the waterfront for two years before that.

“I think that’s selfish. Johan would love to have you around more.”

“I see him every week, Mom. The house is too small to have me coming and going at all hours anyway. When I have the police scanner going it’s loud, too. Johan has enough trouble sleeping with his apnea.”

“I just don’t know how you can live with yourself s-s-some days.”

He felt that familiar clench in his stomach. “You’re lucky to have Johan, Mom, and so am I. He’s the sweetest person I’ve ever met. But one of us has to work, and that’s me, so I have to have a living situation that makes that possible.”

He heard no response. When he pulled the phone away from his ear he saw she’d hung up on him. Well, there was no point in arguing with a drunk. She was only forty-six, but her abusive relationship with his father had damaged her health, and then losing the husband she’d found when Dion was six had broken her heart and sent her on a path from a little too much drinking to full-blown alcoholism. What Dion had managed to keep from her was a steadily-growing nest egg. Someday he needed to be able to pay for a full-time housekeeper to live with him and care for Johan when his mother was no longer capable.

Thank God being a paparazzo paid well, if he could be out on the streets finding the shots.

His phone rang again and he picked it up, berating himself for thinking his mother had hung up on him rather than the call just dropping off. He needed to be less negative, more hopeful.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Dion?” The voice on the other end wasn’t his mother at all. A younger voice, filled with staccato purpose.

“Speaking.” He frowned and checked the number. Unfamiliar. Maybe someone hoping to buy photographs from him directly?

“It’s Kasee Kean.”

Ah, the beautiful pseudo-celebrity who maybe had hit on him. The dry spell he’d been in sexually had him dropping his voice to a growl. “Oh, hey.”

“Is this a good time to talk? You sound distracted.”

She had sat on the sidewalk with her hands bleeding, and asked him out. Crazy or strong-willed, he wasn’t sure which, but he needed to take control of the situation before she steamrolled him.

“This about a date or a job, Mrs. Kean? I’m only interested in one of those options.”

He hadn’t been sure what reaction he’d get from her, maybe one of those cheesy “Mrs. Kean is my mother-in-law, call me Kasee” kind of lines, but instead she laughed, in a husky, intimate manner that sent the blood rushing south, making his jeans uncomfortably tight.

“I haven’t had sex in almost a year,” she responded. “Even a date with me would be a job at this point.”

That did it. His erection went to full boner in an instant. He could feel the pre-cum dampening his boxers. “So it’s work, then? You want to be photographed somewhere? It has to be a place where there are other celebrities.”

“Why?”

“I need the money,” he growled. “More than I need sex. I can get that anywhere.”

“I know, baby,” she cooed. “You’re gorgeous. I get that.”

“So? What do you need?”

“To see you.”

Dion looked out the window. Dark now. Did she want a booty call? His cock was saying yes, his brain was telling him this was a rich white woman on the rebound. She hadn’t brought up sex to make conversation. Right now, he didn’t need the distraction. “You have poor timing, Mrs. Kean. Right now I need to focus on work. I’m not looking for a relationship. I’m looking for photo ops.”

“Meet me for lunch tomorrow at Sunday’s restaurant,” she said. “I have a proposition for you, and I think you’ll be interested. I’m willing to bet you aren’t working at noon.”

“You buying?”

“Only if you call me Kasee. I’m not looking to be your sugar mama. I’m not that much older than you.”

He wondered how much money she’d gotten in her divorce, but the thought was ungentlemanly. Thinking about her tight body, though, that was fair game. And how tight the rest of her would be, after a year of celibacy. He couldn’t help teasing her. “How are you taking care of yourself, honey?”

“What do you mean?”

“Vibrator? Dildo? Your fingers?”

He heard the sharp intake of her breath, but she didn’t say anything.

He grinned and lowered his voice to a drawl. “Are you wet right now? Listening to my voice?”

She gasped but said nothing.

“Can you imagine how good it would feel to have my hands on your breasts, squeezing your nipples? Running my fingers down your skin, delving down into those wet folds, circling your clit? Maybe dipping down, deep between your legs?”

“Stop it.” Her voice sounded strangled.

“Why? It’s obviously turning you on.”

“It’s phone sex. I didn’t agree to phone sex.”

“You’re crazy attracted to me.”

His words sounded like a tease to him, but when she spoke, she sounded mournful. “But you aren’t that attracted to me, so you’re just playing mind games.”

Kasee Kean shouldn’t sound so defeated. He reviewed the sight of her, those long, athletic legs, the thin little dress that hadn’t kept her nipples in line. He’d seem them pebbled under her dress as he’d helped her up from the sidewalk. “I never said I didn’t want to get with you, but that doesn’t mean I’m buying what you’re trying to sell me.”

“I’m not looking for a one-night stand.”

“Then I guess I won’t bother inviting you over right now,” he said. “You use that vibrator, or dildo, or your fingers, to take care of that heat between your legs, sweetheart.”

“Are we on for lunch tomorrow?”

“Sure, see you then.” He hung up before his own hunger, which had risen with each provocative word he said to her, betrayed him.

~

The dress Kasee wore to her lunch with Dion felt like armor. Not that the dress, a subdued navy shift, had that effect, but the long-sleeved jacket she wore over it, double-breasted, turned the outfit into something one would wear to a business meeting. She’d never held a proper job, but if her life had gone the way she expected it to, back before she met Keith, she’d have worn outfits like this as a junior executive in some Fortune 500 company. Her major had been business and she’d thought Keith would employ her at one of his new-car dealerships, but that hadn’t been what he wanted. He’d been looking for a blond trophy. So, she’d spent her twenties managing their two houses, and shopping. When her father had had the heart attack, she’d helped her mother pack up her house and move to Florida. She’d done all the packing and selling of her childhood home, and then found the perfect condo for her mother. Then Keith’s parents had died and she’d packed up their house too. She’d found a new home for her sister-in-law’s family with the money they’d inherited. But when she’d suggested to Keith that she get her real estate license, he’d pooh-poohed it, saying he’d rather have her at home, and didn’t she want to try for a baby?

By then, she’d already discovered how selfish Keith had been, and wasn’t sure she wanted to make him a father. She’d jumped on the chance when she heard about the casting for Ladies of Baltimore, and had fought hard for her slot. The last two years of her life, the ones that had seen her crossing into her thirties, had been about the show. It was her career, especially since the real estate dream had kind of dried up during the divorce.

“Hi, Kasee.” The restaurant hostess smiled at her, exposing her braces.

“What are you doing here on a weekday?” Kasee asked. She was used to seeing this hostess on weekend evenings.

“Changed shifts. It’s nice to see you again. You aren’t here so much anymore.”

“Things change. Does Keith still come on the weekends?”

“No. I’ve heard he and his new wife-to-be prefer sushi.”

Kasee forced a smile. “Then I guess I can be a regular again.”

“Great! Are you dining alone? A business meeting?”

“There will be two of us.” Kasee had gone ahead with her real estate license to distract herself as her life had fallen apart. It had required her to find a position before it was granted. She thought she’d be doing it all on camera, which hadn’t happened thanks to Tammy. But, she hadn’t actually sold a house yet. The leads she’d been offered by her new firm were terrible, nearly all located in West Baltimore, probably because she’d found a job at a company where she didn’t know anyone. At this point, her celebrity status hadn’t done her any favors. No one cared about her in West Baltimore. She’d rather set her own hours and sell exclusive properties in places like Crownsville or Severna Park. But to do that, she’d have to actually write up a resume and get interviews with more strangers, at better real estate firms.

“Fun. What are you doing these days?”

“Real estate.” She fished her card out of her bag and handed it to the hostess. “Starter firm, I’m afraid.”

“Maybe you can build them into a real player,” the hostess said. “It’s all about your team, right?”

“I don’t know. Until I was trying to enter the business, I didn’t realize I didn’t know anyone in it.”

“Networking,” the hostess said. “Join a club or something.”

Kasee nodded intelligently. “Yes, I need to do that.”

The door opened behind her. She felt that disturbance in the air that indicated someone important had entered.

She turned around and drank in the sight of Dion, broad-shouldered in a tan leather jacket and black slacks. His brown hair was flat against his skull, as if he was fresh out of the shower. She longed to touch it, to discover if the texture was soft or wiry. Her knees went a little wobbly as she remembered their phone conversation the night before, the way he’d made her so crazy that she’d had to give into that lust he’d created in her lonely bed. Now, seeing him, she had to admit that taking care of herself hadn’t dampened her arousal at all.

She grinned like an idiot in his direction, and all he did was lift his eyebrows in response. Who knew? Maybe he’d had phone sex with three other women after they hung up. Maybe it was a regular pastime for him.

“I have your table for you,” said the hostess behind them.

Dion came forward and silently, they followed a server to their table. A prime spot, it had a view to the street outside. The spring sun poured in.

Kasee decided to go on the offensive. It was the only way to deal with her jangled nerves. “You seem wary today.”

He pulled out her chair for her. “Didn’t sleep well last night.”

She appreciated the gentlemanly gesture. “Thank you. Why didn’t you sleep well?”

“I’m not used to doing the heavy-duty flirtation thing with some woman, and then be turned down.”

“I’m done with men.” Her tone was flat, a knee-jerk reaction to his arrogance. “This was never about you and me acting out some response to chemistry.”

“So you admit we have some?” He licked his lower lip.

She wanted to bite it. She wanted those lips on her breasts, and other places that were even more sensitive to a man’s caresses. “That’s not the point.”

Another server arrived and asked them for their drink order. They both asked for iced tea, no sugar, then perused their menus.

“I hear you used to be a regular here.”

“Might be a good idea for me to become one again,” she said.

“Why?”

“Good will. I have my real estate license now. I need to start building my business.”

“As a backup to being famous?”

She gestured at herself. “Even if I get back on the show, I need a full life. They need something more to film than me flicking through magazines and dusting what little furniture I have.”

“Where do I fit into this plan?” He nodded his thanks to the server who arrived with their tea, then ordered a Reuben.

“I have a shot to get back on the show. There’s a dinner party tomorrow night. The cast will all be there.”

“You’re invited?”

Tentatively, she touched his arm. “You and me. I pitched us as a couple. Let's form a partnership to create a hot, combustible relationship in front of the cameras.”

He shook his head and picked up his tea glass. She could tell he found her pitch amusing. How could she sell this?

“Do you have a girlfriend? Some reason you wouldn’t want to be a celebrity? It could take your career to another level.”

He took a drink, then stroked his smooth cheek with his free hand. “Part of a paparazzo’s success is built on stealth. If I’m recognizable it might actually hurt me.”

“Is this a career you want forever? Chasing celebrities?”

“As long as it stays this lucrative, sure.” He shrugged. “I’ve got bills, same as the next guy.”

“I don’t get the sense you have expensive tastes.” His clothing was department-store casual. No expensive watch. His earrings, one in each ear, were simple gold studs.

“I have overhead. The cameras are expensive. I need a car that fits into upscale neighborhoods. Self-employment requires a lot of payout for taxes.”

“Think of this as another business opportunity. You could open your own photography studio or something, thanks to the increased visibility. Your name will mean something. You’ll get invitations to events and parties you would never have known about before. And the show is nationally syndicated. The best paparazzi companies will hire you to take pictures. I’m guessing you aren’t a member of the elite circle, since you’re working here.”

His gaze narrowed. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know your phone number is local.”

“You got me.” His Reuben was placed in front of him. “Aren’t you eating?”

“No, I’m going on camera tomorrow for the first time in months.”

“And that requires starving yourself?” He picked up his glass.

“You can’t be naïve about this stuff.”

“I like curves, personally. And I know how to photograph women to flatter them.”

“Better than focusing on humiliation.”

“I have been offered a couple of jobs like that,” he admitted. “Someone gained a bunch of weight and tabloids want pictures, that kind of thing.”

“The media can be cruel.”

“Yet we both want to be a part of it.”

She heard the decision behind his words. “So is that a yes? You’ll go to the dinner party with me tomorrow?”

He shrugged. “What’s the story? Are we supposed to be in love? Or is it just a first date?”

“Well, it is reality television, and we have to remember we can’t just create fiction.”

Dion nodded. “Got it.”

“We can just say it’s a new relationship. That’s way less humiliating than claiming it’s a blind date or something.”

“So is will be our first date?”

“No, like—” She bit her lip. “Our third date?”

Laughter rumbled from his chest. “And you know what that means.”

She tossed her hair. “I don’t get with men I’m not in love with. I never did. Maybe I’m a little delusional sometimes, but I’m not easy.”

“So noted. I’ll come along if you promise one thing.”

“What?”

“That you aren’t done with men.” His tone was suggestive.

She bit her lip. “Okay. But that’s not enough. You have to stay around if I get back on the show. We need to plan an arc.”

“I’m not going to be your rental boyfriend,” he warned.

“No, it has to be real, but we have to date for a couple of months, at least.”

“For as long as the show is shooting.”

She nodded.

“Then I have my own rules,” he said.

“What?”

He bared his teeth. “Then it’s got to be real.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you have to try to fall in love with me, with everything that implies.”

She remembered Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf. Dion was just as enticing, just as dangerous. And all he was asking, basically, was for her to come closer. “Is that really what you want?”

He leaned over the table. “I never say anything I don’t mean.”