“She walked out?” Lyle asked. “Right in the middle of the shoot?” He glanced sideways at Wyatt, breathing hard.

“Pretty much.” They’d been jogging along the beach for almost half an hour, and at first the morning air had been invigorating. Now, though, Wyatt was starting to drag. He’d been up all night, and his lack of sleep was slowing him down.

That and the fact that he was worried about the project. Siobhan had called that morning to tell him that Roger Jensen, an arts and leisure columnist with the Pacific Shore Examiner, a glossy magazine that mixed legitimate news with tabloid gossip, was hounding her for an advance image from the show. “I told him no, but you might want to consider it. His column in the Examiner blog goes viral all the time. And the extra publicity would be nice.”

“Forget it,” he’d said. “No advance images. You know my rules.”

“I do. But it’s my job to run these things by you. It’s also my job to check on you,” she added, then asked for an update on his hunt for the perfect girl. Wyatt considered dodging the question, but Siobhan was a friend, and she was in this show as deep as he was.

“Found her,” he admitted. “And then I lost her.”

“Well, that’s not good,” Siobhan said. And when Wyatt agreed with that insightful assessment, she’d suggested that Cass could be the It Girl.

“Cass is stunning,” Wyatt agreed. “But she’s not the girl.”

“Like I said, this close to the show, you can’t be picky about the girl. You just need a girl. Pretty. Sexy. Photogenic. And one who doesn’t bolt.”

“Maybe,” he’d said, knowing that he was running out of options. But also knowing that Cass was his last option. And Kelsey was his first.

And there weren’t any other options in between.

Lyle had been jogging a few feet ahead, but now he slowed until they were pacing each other. “I thought you said this girl needed the money. Why’d she up and leave?”

“There’s a slight possibility it had something to do with me being a complete and total prick.”

“You?” He turned and jogged backwards so he was facing Wyatt. “I’m shocked.”

“Fuck you. And if you trip and fall on your ass, I’m going to take a picture and send that shit to Instagram.”

Lyle flipped him the bird, but turned back around. “If I ask how you were a prick are you going to kick sand in my face?”

“Let’s just say I gave her a rough time. I convinced myself she had an agenda. Or that she was playing some kind of head game with me. Or that she figured the job would earn her some sort of golden key to open the door to Hollywood.”

“Seriously? You thought she was messing with you because of who you are?”

“Don’t act surprised. I know you get that shit, too,” he added. “More than me, I’d think. The non-Hollywood grandson isn’t nearly as interesting as an actual movie star.”

Lyle grimaced. “Yeah, lately I’ve got a wide range of options for female companionship. More than I want, that’s for damn sure.”

“You don’t say.” Wyatt’s voice dripped with irony. After several years on a hit sitcom, Lyle Tarpin’s star had gone supernova when he starred in two movies that turned out to be box office sensations. That’s one of the reasons they were out for a jog—because Lyle had just signed onto an established action franchise, and the director wanted him in prime shape.

“I’m living on kale and hard boiled eggs,” Lyle had complained the other day. “And people think Hollywood is all about the glamour.”

“Anybody special among those options?” Wyatt asked now.

“Not a chance. Besides, we’ve known each other for what? Two years now? You know I don’t date.”

“Not even Rip?” Wyatt asked, referring to Lyle’s former TV co-star.

“Seriously? Come on, man. You of all people should know better than to listen to rumors,” Lyle said. “Besides, I’m not gay. And even if I was, that asshole would be the last guy I’d fuck.”

“Fair enough.” Wyatt remembered the buzz back when the show was hot and the costars were feuding. “Just be careful. All that female attention you’ve been getting? It’s just going to get more intense. You’re on a fast trajectory, my friend.”

Wyatt had no idea why he was advising Lyle. God knew Wyatt had no special insight into women. He wasn’t in the habit of kicking women out of his bed, true, but neither had he dated anyone special in, well, ever. At least not since he’d been an adult. And the one woman who’d piqued his interest was a woman he not only didn’t trust, but one he’d managed to scare off.

Not a stellar record, all things considered.

“I’m fine,” Lyle assured him. “I’m just focusing on work right now.”

That sounded perfectly reasonable, but Wyatt couldn’t shake the feeling his friend was holding something back.

“You still haven’t answered me,” Lyle continued before Wyatt could press the point. “Why did you think this girl—Kelsey, right?—had an agenda?”

“Are you asking me about now, or about twelve years ago? Actually, hang on,” he added, coming to a halt and bending over with his hands on his knees. Lyle didn’t exactly stop, but at least he stayed by Wyatt, jogging in place.

Wyatt had to admire his stamina.

“Let’s start with twelve years ago,” Lyle said, and Wyatt relayed what he’d overheard from Grace. A conversation he could recite in perfect, morbid detail.

“Okay, I get that you were pissed. I would be, too. But she was a kid. Did you seriously think she was doing the same thing now? Not fucking you for points, obviously. But for a job or access or some such bullshit? I mean, how would being in with you or your family even help her? You said she’s, what? A kindergarten teacher?”

“And a dancer,” Wyatt said.

“Even so. You do remember that your family is in the movies, right? It’s not like they own a dance troupe.”

“Funny. But my mom’s working on that film adaptation. You know, the musical that won the Tony last year. Maybe she thought that working with me could get her an in.”

“Sounds dubious to me.”

“Maybe, but struggling actors and dancers will try anything. It’s a fact of this business. My dad sure as hell saw it.” He glanced at Lyle. “You’ll see it, too.”

“I will,” Lyle said. “But that doesn’t mean everybody’s got an angle. And listen, buddy, about your dad—”

“What?” The word came out harder than Wyatt had intended. He’d never told anyone about his father’s death, or the things his dad had said before. No one, that is, until Lyle.

They’d been out drinking one night, and Lyle had told him a few things about his life back in Iowa, before he’d moved to LA at sixteen. Not much, but enough for Wyatt to realize that Lyle’d had a shitty time of it, too. And when he complained that night about how ninety percent of the people he was meeting in town only cared about what his fame could do for them, Wyatt had shared his own sob story.

He’d thought he’d regret it afterwards, but he hadn’t. He had only a handful of close friends, and he was glad to count Lyle among them.

That didn’t, however, mean he wanted to talk about it now. A fact that Lyle obviously realized, since his shoulders drooped a bit.

“It’s just that I know it’s hard. Losing someone, I mean.” His voice cracked with genuine emotion. “And you want to honor who they were, especially if you loved them. But that doesn’t mean death made them right about things.”

“You want to try talking in English? Because right now, this is gibberish.”

“I only mean that just because your dad said that your family didn’t value him, and that no one gave a flip about him except through your family, doesn’t mean it was really true. And even if it was, that doesn’t mean it’s true for you.” Lyle wiped the back of his neck with his towel as he stopped jogging. Then he dropped it on the beach and sat on it. “Or for Kelsey.”

Wyatt took a second, then sat, too. He didn’t answer; he just looked out over the ocean as he thought of Kelsey, a woman he really shouldn’t want, but couldn’t get out of his head.

The truth was, he’d never wanted to believe that she was only interested in his connection to Hollywood. He sure as hell hadn’t believed it that summer, not during all the time they’d been secretly dating. But that didn’t mean that his father’s words weren’t fresh in his head. And when he’d found his dad’s body on the very day that he’d overheard Grace spewing her venom—

Well, he’d been angry.

Angry and, maybe, a little stupid.

He tilted his head back, looking up at clear blue California sky as he remembered Kelsey’s words from just the other day. “When I left, you didn’t even try to come after me.”

She’d surprised him with that accusation. Because if she’d really been playing him, then how could he possibly have hurt her?

And the fact is, her claim wasn’t entirely true, anyway. A few weeks later, after he was settled in Boston and had cooled down and his father’s funeral was behind him, he had tried to find her. Tried, but failed.

First, he’d tried contacting her school. But she’d transferred, and the administration office either didn’t know where she’d gone or wasn’t willing to tell.

He’d had no luck by following her dad, either. Patrick managed to find out where Leonard Draper had gone to work after the club, but when Wyatt tried to reach him there, he learned that the man had never shown up.

All of which had made him think that maybe there was something bigger going on. A family thing. An emergency. Something.

But then Grace’s words returned to haunt him. Because even if there had been an emergency, wouldn’t Kelsey have at least called him? But she didn’t. She’d run out of the party, and she’d never looked back.

At first he’d been afraid that he’d pressured her. But then, once he heard Grace, he’d believed that Kelsey had played him. And that painful conclusion had settled deep into his gut, then rotted there for twelve long years.

He’d been an ass.

He’d believed Grace over his heart. Because he’d seen Kelsey. He knew her, inside and out.

And he knew damn well that the only time she wanted a spotlight was when she was dancing.

So why had he listened to rumors instead of his own heart? His own head?

Because he’d been an insecure teenager.

So what did that make him now? An insecure man?

He sighed, then turned back to Lyle. “She messes with my head. She always has. And when she walked into my studio, part of me wanted to kick her out even while another part wanted to kiss her senseless.”

He picked up a handful of sand, then let it spill out through his fingers. “She got under my skin twelve years ago, and she’s stayed there.”

“Because she pissed you off? Or because she hurt you?” Wyatt cocked his head. “Why does it matter?”

“Pissed off is anger, and you can be angry at anyone. You don’t have to care about the guy who cuts you off when you’re trying to make a left turn, right?” He opened his water bottle and took a long swallow. “But hurt—well, if you don’t care about someone, they can’t hurt you.”

“Then it was both,” he said. And maybe that was the problem. He’d been angry at her for so long. But she’d hurt him, too. So deeply it had scarred his heart.

And ever since she’d come back into his life, he’d been walking a line. Wanting to punish her for the past. And for the present, too. For the way she was messing with his head.

But at the same time, he needed her for the show.

And damned if all of that mixed together didn’t scare her right out of his studio.

“I need her back,” he said flatly, then turned and looked at his friend. “I don’t trust her—not completely—but I need her.”

“So get her back. She still needs the money, right?”

“As far as I know.”

Lyle nodded. “That’s one thing in your favor. Have you called her?”

“Three times. She hasn’t called me back.”

“What about going by where she works? She left a resume, right?”

“Actually, no. Just a headshot and her phone number. But I know she teaches kindergarten and dance.”

Lyle cocked his head. “How do you know that?”

“I saw her in the Beverly Center a few years ago, and so I did some digging. My friend Ryan’s good at finding information. He tracked her down to an elementary school. It was summer, though, so only the administration office was open. They wouldn’t give me her address, but they told me she taught dance during the summer to little kids and gave me the name of the studio.”

“And?”

“And I went, but she didn’t work there anymore. They didn’t know where she’d gone.”

“So you went back to Ryan,” Lyle guessed.

“Actually, I gave up. She’s the one who moved back to LA. She knew how to find me. But she didn’t. So I decided I just needed to let it go.”

“Right,” Lyle said. “And how’s that working out for you?” Wyatt scowled, and Lyle laughed.

“Well, don’t worry. It’s a small town. And Evelyn will be at the party tonight,” he added, referring to his agent. “Between her and your grandmother, they know everyone in the business. Don’t worry. Someone will convince her not to dodge you.”

Wyatt laughed bitterly. “Yeah, but that’s only half the trick. Once we do, I have to convince her to come back.”

Too bad he didn’t have a clue how to do that.