“No,” Dion purred. “I’m trying to dilute the taste of you, so you don’t knock me sideways when we kiss.”

 “Oh?” Kasee took another sip of her wine. “Are we going to kiss?”

He took the glass from her, setting it down with a steady hand so that it didn’t spill, then snaked his arms around her waist. “I’ve been thinking about this kiss all day long. I may have been chasing a rapper through the airport, but my imagination was focused on those juicy lips of yours.”

She traced his mouth with chilly fingers. “You’re the one with the juicy lips. I just want to bite them.”

With that bit of dialogue, not to mention the overly enthusiastic cadence of her voice, he knew she was faking this as much as he was. Still, he leaned in and took her mouth with his. His possession was gentle at first. He didn’t want to do some kind of open-mouthed porn thing in front of the cameras, but then she sighed, seeming to melt against him, and he was lost in a haze of soft lips, peppermint breath, and musky perfume.

When she pulled away he was dazed. They grinned at each other like a pair of fools.

“I guess you like the wine?” she said, with an ironic lift of one eyebrow.

And bam, they were back in front of the cameras. “You tasted like peppermint.”

“Oh.” She put her hand to her mouth. “Those Altoids are curiously strong.”

He smiled at her, feeling strangely possessive. “Let’s eat. I’m starving.”

She nodded and he pulled her seat away from the table and helped her with it, then took his own chair. He only poured an inch of the wine into his own glass. Thankfully someone had also poured water. She was too intoxicating as it was.

They ate their way through the salad course, which was composed like a high-end restaurant starter, then Lizzie took their plates away and placed prime rib in front of them with miniature Yorkshire puddings. And broccoli.

“Broccoli, huh,” Dion deadpanned. “I have to eat my trees?”

“I’m not a big fan either,” Kasee confided. “I prefer broccolini.”

Dion had no idea what that was, but he didn’t want to look too ignorant so he didn’t respond directly. “Honey roasted carrots, that’s my favorite vegetable.”

“I’ll make you some next time,” she promised. “How about parsnips? Do you like them?”

“If it doesn’t come in a can, I’ve never tried it,” he admitted. Damn. He wished he hadn’t said that on camera. Who knew what they’d use?

“So you aren’t a foodie,” Kasee declared. “I can turn you into one. Keith adored fine dining and I know every good restaurant in the area.”

He leaned forward and took her hand. “Baby, if I never hear Keith’s name again, it will be too soon, okay? I know you were young when you met him, and I’m sure he helped form your tastes, but just claim it. I don’t care what he liked, just what you do.”

She smiled tremulously. “Of course. I’m so used to everything being about him.”

Now he couldn’t tell if she was being real. “Even a year later?”

“We’ve only been divorced for three months. I didn’t know the entire story at first. I probably thought we’d reconcile.” She picked up her glass, still mostly full, and took a sip.

Either she didn’t like the wine as much as she claimed, or she wasn’t much of a drinker. “Have you had counseling?”

She shook her head. “That’s a really good idea, though.” She was too much of a pro to glance at Lizzie, but Dion saw the assistant making a note. No doubt they’d want to film the counseling session.

What she said next surprised him. “Maybe we should go to counseling, too.”

“Why? This is only our what, fourth date?”

She set her glass down. “I know the racial tensions got to you last night. Maybe we can get some counseling to help us with being a bi-racial couple. I mean, I know aspects of it are going to be tough, even these days.” She trailed off.

He wanted to show his anger, but he knew this was what she wanted for the show, what the producers wanted. She was the hot patrician blonde with the poor black guy. “I’m a man, baby, and I don’t need some counselor to tell me how to live. I’m proud of my heritage.”

“Do you know where your people came from? I mean, in Africa?”

“Really?” Irritated, his gaze bored into hers.

She licked her lips. “I suppose it’s hard to find, that kind of information.”

“Particularly when you were raised by your white mother,” he said sarcastically. “Why do I care what African tribe I came from? I’m American. You like my looks? Hey, I got that exotic mixed thing going on, but that’s just the outer package.”

“Are there many black paparazzi photographers?” she asked.

“Everyone is doing it,” he said. “Anyone with a camera. Color behind the camera doesn’t matter.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “Really? This is what we have to talk about? I’d rather talk about us and this surprise you have for us later.”

She let her chin drop down and looked at him through her fake lashes. “Well, you know I like roses.”

“Sure.” Except that wasn’t true.

“And you know I love that gorgeous body of yours.”

Possibly true. “Ditto.” He flashed his best sexy gaze at her, hoping something decent showed up in the cameras.

“I just redid my bathroom,” she cooed. “I thought you could help me baptize the new Jacuzzi tub.”

The throb in his pants told him he’d like to baptize her in all sorts of ways, but not when the cameras were on. “Sounds sexy.”

She nodded enthusiastically. “I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to be with you, Dion. You’ve given me a new lease on life. Being with an older man really became tiresome after a while.”

Ah, this is where she got her dig in at Keith. She must have scripted her part in this dinner ahead of time. “And you in your prime.”

“Exactly.” The way she drew out the word made him think about what kind of magic those lips could work on his cock.

Alas, they were only getting sexy for the cameras.

~

Kasee stepped down from the production van the next evening, down the street from Pat’s Irish Pub. The assistant producer had stopped their date the night before while they were setting up the cameras around the bathroom, to ask Dion when he could take Kasee on a paparazzi stakeout. He’d said he would take them to hunt for music celebrities, since he couldn’t risk his sports relationships.

So here she was, after much discussion with Louise about her wardrobe, dressed in black yoga pants and a hoodie, with three camera men to watch her fake boyfriend take pictures of celebrities. At least Dion had texted her at five to say he’d heard actual celebs were around the waterfront.

Those rumored celebs were members of Thunder Road, in fact, the popular boy band with a recent number one single. Bax, Finch, Aaron, Seth, and Tyler were all around twenty years old, but they were the ultimate fantasies of every tween and teenage girl in the country right now. Each one of them fit a different segment of girl lust so that a group of friends could each pick a favorite member of the band and share their fandom.

Kasee had looked at a fan site on the Internet, hoping to help identify the boys if any of them did come to the pub. Bax had the barbed wire tattoo, the tousled brown hair and unusual, brownish green eyes, that screamed almost boy next door appeal but with a decided edge. Seth was the half-Japanese, half-Jamaican one, appealing to a broad spectrum of fans. The oldest at just twenty-one, Finch oozed sex appeal, with his perfect body and carefully crafted bad boy sneer. Aaron, an avowed Christian, wore a purity ring, and Tyler was the crazy one who’d already been busted for cocaine.

As she walked down the street in high-heeled hiking boots, she breathed in the sea-scented air wafting from the waterfront. Hopefully the breeze would send Thunder Road their way.

“Hey!” she called, seeing Dion and Jorge across the street from the pub, where they had staked it out before.

Dion held up his hand to her. Jorge nodded then looked away.

She arrived at Dion’s side, kissing him on the cheek. He wore black, too, so she’d made the right choice. “No other paps around?”

“Not too many of them in Baltimore,” he said, glancing down at her shoes with a quizzical air. “Thunder Road is on a short tour break, so I think their usual followers assumed they would separate for the week.”

“Why didn’t they?”

“I heard a rumor that the boys are keeping a close eye on Tyler.”

“Worried about drugs?”

He nodded. “You’ve been doing your research.”

“Trying. I want to be helpful. Maybe it’s the start of a new career.”

“After I take their photos, you can offer to sell them a house,” Dion joked.

She winced, but it wasn’t his fault that her career was in such a bad place. Now that she was back on the show she needed to apply to one of the prestigious real estate firms in the area and really get her career going. Regardless of what happened now, she wouldn’t be on the show forever, and she couldn’t get used to that kind of income stream. It could dry up in a heartbeat. She’d proven that. “So is Tyler from around here?”

“Annapolis.”

She rubbed her hand down Dion’s bare, muscled forearm. His wrist needed a bracelet. Would he accept one from her? “Okay, so he’s the main one to watch for. He’s got the thick blond streaks in very dark brown hair and a very chiseled face.”

“He’s really skinny right now,” Dion said. “Heroin will do that.”

She winced. “Yikes, I’d only read about cocaine.”

“They go together,” Jorge said, in a rare burst of communication. “He won’t look his age. Look for a group of kids.”

“Ball caps, hoodies pulled up,” Dion added.

“Then how do you get decent pictures of them?”

Dion smiled and waited for a camera man to point directly at him. “You’re going to be bait.”

Kasee punched his arm. “I’m not dressed to be bait.”

“What do you have on under that jacket?”

She began to realize he was being serious. “Just a pink tank.”

He held his camera with one hand and unzipped her jacket with the other, then pulled it off her shoulders, then he pulled off her cap. Her hair tumbled across her shoulders. “Mmmm.”

“Find that sexy, do you, big boy?” she purred.

“I like the shoes, too, but not for street work. Be more practical next time. For tonight, though, I like them for bait. I also appreciate you cut down on the eye makeup. Makes you look younger.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Why do you always wear false lashes? All of your friends do, too.”

“We’re a herd of sheep,” she deadpanned.

“I don’t like them,” Dion said.

“Fine.” She turned away. Surely she wouldn’t let a real boyfriend treat her like this, but she knew Keith had made demands a million times and she’d always given in. But she’d been a lot younger then, and less sure of herself.

“Hey,” Dion said. “I don’t want to undo all the relationship-building we had last night, but these are my streets, okay? I know the score.”

“Sure, Dion,” she said. He put his arm on her shoulder, ready to draw her into a hug, but she stepped away as a big black SUV pulled onto the street. She saw it was a rental, so at the very least, these were wealthy tourists. Could it be Thunder Road?

“Is that them?” she asked, peering across the street.

“No, too old,” Jorge said, holding up his camera as people spilled out.

Dion patted her ass. “Go across the street now. You’re bait, remember?”

His fingers settled on one cheek. She stiffened instinctively, then reminded herself that she’d supposedly had sex with this guy the night before and intimacy would be expected. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Talk to them, if you even think it’s them. Chase ballers, or whoever looks interesting. I’ll signal you when we’re done with our shots.”

“Okay.” She waited for a limousine to drive down the street, then crossed over to the pub, followed by two of her three camera men.

“Don’t take them,” Dion said. “You’ll give it away.”

She shrugged at him, then shooed the men back. A group of tall black men came around the corner. Basketball players? She looked at them hopefully and one of them winked at her, but she didn’t recognize any of them, and from the chatter, it sounded like they were a bachelor party. When she glanced at Dion, he made a slicing motion across his neck.

“I need reaction shots,” the assistant producer called from between the camera men. “If we have to stay out of the way, at least look in our direction from time to time.”

Kasee had forgotten how artificial this could be, after nearly a year away from the cameras. She made an “okay’ sign with her fingers, then watched as massive vehicle, a Hummer, came up the street. Someone came through the door from the pub and she could hear folk music spilling out, and someone calling, “Play something decent!”

She glanced through the windows for a second, and when she looked back, a tall, lean youth jumped from the vehicle on to the sidewalk. He had a baseball cap on, but tendrils of brown hair curled around it. She peered at him. Were those the famous eyes?

She glanced across the street, but the Hummer blocked Dion, so she turned to Lizzie and mouthed, “Bax Connolly?”

Her crew came forward as she went toward the young man. Another youth jumped down from the Hummer, this one with short dreads. The Japanese-Jamaican kid.

“Oh my God, it’s Thunder Road!” She pressed her fingers to her mouth, horrified at her girlish exclamation. “I love you guys.”

Bax, for it was indeed him, gave her a sly smile, and made a lowering motion with his hands. “We’re on vacation, ma’am.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Did you just ‘ma’am’ me? No, no, no.” How embarrassing.

She glanced across the street. Dion and Jorge were gone. Hopefully, they were in position to take the shots. She saw another head pop out of the open vehicle door. Sharply carved-in cheeks, hollow eyes, some kind of sore on his chin. This must be Tyler, swaying as he held the edge of the door.

“Oh, your poor friend,” she breathed. “Are you sure you should be taking him to a pub?”

“You have somewhere better in mind?” Seth said in a shockingly deep voice. He must sing those beautiful, grounding bass notes she’d heard in their music. “I’d love to hit the clubs later on.”

Flashes of light went off, temporarily blinding Kasee, as she said, “I meant some kind of in-patient facility.”

When she could see again, Tyler’s head had vanished back into the Hummer, and Bax was already at the door, his head inside, talking to the others.

Seth shook his head at her. “For shame, woman.”

“Tyler needs help, not a night out. He looks terrible.”

“That’s none of your business. Why are you ruining our night out?”

“It’s not my fault,” she protested.

“The hell it isn’t. I know who you are, Kasee Kean. Last week you were bothering Sky Mitchell, and now it’s us. Get a life, lady.” Seth pushed Bax into the vehicle, then climbed in himself. Another hand emerged from the vehicle only long enough to pull the door closed, then the Hummer roared off.

Kasee shook off her embarrassment, and dashed over to Dion, who was down the street talking to Jorge and comparing shots. Her crew followed. “Did you get anything?”

 “Nothing that doesn’t include you in it,” Dion said. “I can’t have you in the pictures, Kasee. You aren’t the story.”

“We didn’t get Tyler,” Jorge said glumly.

“We must have,” Dion almost shouted as he pulled his camera back up to his eyes and began clicking through shots. He swore, his finger stilling on the camera. “Every shot of his face was blocked by your arm!”

“I’m sorry,” Kasee said. “I didn’t know. I was just in the moment.”

“You knew what we needed. Tyler is the money shot.”

“I don’t know that I was blocking him. I’m out of practice taking pictures.”

“He’s the hometown boy,” Jorge said with a shrug. “You’d better learn quickly.”

Dion ripped his camera strap from around his head, looking ready to throw it.

“I’m sorry,” Kasee said again, feeling the swell of tears behind her eyes. “Surely you got something.”

“Not one usable shot. There was a bounty for a picture of Tyler. Twenty K, Kasee.” He pointed at her, murder in his eyes. “You cost me twenty thousand dollars.”

“Oh come on, it’s always a crap-shoot with paparazzi shots. They probably practice the drill so shots aren’t possible from most angles. And you can’t see that well here, either, but when you check your camera, you might have something.”

“No,” Jorge said. “I’m heading to that new nightclub by the stadiums. Maybe they’ll go there next.” He stepped off the curb and headed back across the street.

“I can give you a ride,” Kasee said to Dion. “In the production van.”

He gave her a murderous stare. “That’s a good twenty-five thousand dollars you’ve cost me so far.”

“I got you that shot with Sky Mitchell.”

“I would have had one without you mauling him either way.”

She crossed her arms. “I suppose you’re right. I’m sorry. I won’t interfere with your work anymore.”

“This isn’t going to work,” he growled. “Lizzie wanted to warn me off and I wouldn’t talk to her.”

“How can you say that? And how can she? After last night?” She didn’t know what she was pleading for, the bubble bath that didn’t actually happen because the cameras got everything they needed, or for those few moments of actual camaraderie they’d managed despite all the chaos.

One of the camera men pressed closer. Dion stared at the man with disgust. “Last night,” he muttered. His hand went to his hair. “Kasee.”

She pressed her hands to her heart. “I won’t interfere again. I promise. Let’s take your money out of the equation, okay? I won’t come near you when you’re working.” She forced a smile. “After all, I want you to be able to afford me. If I cost you twenty-five Gs in one week, I think you’re doing really well.”

“’Tis the season to make money,” he muttered. “It isn’t always this good. And there aren’t that many celebrities from around here.”

“Well, is Jorge right? Will Thunder Road go to a club next? You could chase them.”

His phone beeped. He pulled it out and took a look. “No, they went to a strip club, but the bouncers there are really aggressive. Can’t go there.”

“You could follow them when they leave,” she suggested. “Stake out the strip club.”

He scratched his chin then typed a few words into his phone. “I can’t discuss it with you.”

She knew he meant in front of the camera crew. “I understand. I’m staying out of your money.” She nodded emphatically. “I think I’ll just stop into Pat’s and hang out at the bar for a bit.”

“Great,” he said. “Let me know if anyone interesting pops in.”

“Sure,” she said, turning away. Then, mindful of the cameras, she turned back. “Can I have a hug?”

He looked at her like she was a cockroach, but then he held out on arm. She went to him for his half-hearted hug, already planning her interview in front of the cameras, talking about how men are about their money. But Dion smelled so good when her nose grazed his neck that her thoughts stuttered to a halt, and despite the camera being in the way, they managed a close embrace. She could have stayed, curled against him, but his phone beeped again, so she stepped back.

“Off to work?”

He nodded. “See ya.”

~

Kasee hung out at the pub for a couple of hours, nursing a glass of white wine and chatting with the bartender. Pop was at his stool for a while, and she listened to the old guys talk about the Sixties and how good the music was back then. The camera crew gave up and shut down production for the evening. Eventually she found her car and drove home, but restless, she couldn’t relax.

An hour after that, she’d redone her makeup and pulled on a pair of jeans and a low-cut silk blouse, then added a pair of ballet flats. Without allowing herself to think too much about it, she drove to Dion’s apartment. She decided it was meant to be when she found a parking spot only a block away.

When she glanced at the front of the building and counted up, she saw his lights were on. Was he home? Leaving things between them that tense didn’t feel right. Feeling resolute, she marched up the front steps and called his unit.

“Hello?”

“It’s Kasee. Can we talk?”

“At midnight?”

“Must be normal work hours for you.”

She heard a yawn. “Not really.”

She heard a buzz and pulled open the front door. When she went in, she smelled something spicy, Korean food, maybe, and saw pizza flyers drifting across the foyer under the mailboxes. Quickly, she found the elevators and rode up the fifth floor.

Dion was waiting, his front door open, when she came off the elevator. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Suddenly breathless, she paused in front of him.

He must have just left the shower. Droplets were visible on his neck and his flattened hair glistened with moisture. Blue plaid pajama pants were slung low over his hips, and his entire golden torso was blissfully naked. The night before, she’d been too busy acting for the cameras to really look at him in his full glory.

“Where is the camera crew?” he asked, his tone sour.

“No cameras.”

“Then what is this again? More apologies? I’ve got your credit card number already.”

“Do we have to do this in the hall?”

He put his hands on his hips. “I thought you liked to hang it all out in public.”

“Not in that sense. It’s a job. I have time off too, you know.”

He gestured her inside, swiping at his neck to wipe off the water drops. But when he turned, she saw the droplets across his shoulders. She groaned, fighting her instinct to lick him.

“What?” he turned around.

She pressed the door closed, her back against it. “Sorry, didn’t mean for you to hear that.”

“What’s going on? This feels like a booty call, and it isn’t like that between us.”

Sexual frustration irritated her. She’d been without for more than a year, and tonight that mattered a lot. A whole hell of a lot, what with her breasts aching, and juices flowing between her thighs. "Come on, Dion, it's not just for the cameras. You know I'm attracted to you, right?"

“Not really.”

“I’d never have asked you to date me if I wasn’t.”

“You thought I’d be controversial. You were attracted to me being half black, not my looks.”

She spoke slowly. “You are so wrong about that.”

“I don’t want booty calls on camera. I’m not cheap like that. I never thought it was cool. I like sex in relationships. I like to feel good about it when I wake up. And I like my girl to still be there.”

“Really?” Her voice came out husky. Her hand went to her cleavage, her fingers clutching the gold chain she wore, that looped between her breasts.

“Yeah.” He stared at her, pupils dilated.

“Maybe I could be your girlfriend on and off camera.”

“Ummm.” He glanced away. “You’re kind of nuts, and my life is complicated.”

“I know, Dion, and I don’t want to interfere. The reality is, this show only tapes for a couple of months a year. It will all be over before summer. We just have to get through this part.”

“And you think going to bed will help?”

Moisture soaked the scrap of silk between her flesh and her jeans. “I’ll sure feel better tomorrow.” She moved forward and put her hand on his chest. “I know you know how attractive you are. I’m not the only girl who wants you right now. I’m sure of that. But you let me in. That’s got to mean something. You trust me to have your back, right?”

“I trust you to keep the balance on your credit card low, so I can get money for Johan’s care.”

Her emotions were too close to the surface. Tearing up, she let her hand drop. “I’m sorry. I thought maybe you were attracted to me too, but I guess I’m just making a fool of myself. I’ll get out of here.”

“Hey.” He put his arms around her waist and pulled her hips against his.

Her eyes widened as she felt the long, hot length of him pressing against her mons. While he was taller than her, he had a long torso and their legs were almost the same. She knew what that meant:  perfect shower sex. “Hey, yourself.”

“I want you too,” he crooned into her ear.

She sniffed. “Will you respect yourself in the morning? I don’t want you to give in to the situation and then be angry after.”

He nuzzled her hair. “Maybe I like crazy, girl. Yeah, my defenses are down, but it’s not like we aren’t gonna see each other tomorrow. Why not turn a fake relationship into something real? Who are we hurting?”

As she tilted her mouth up to his, she thought, Only ourselves.

Before he even had kissed her properly, he had her shirt over her head. The fabric wiped the tears from her face as it came off. He unbuckled her belt without looking at it, had her jeans tugged down over her hips and used his feet to pull them completely off her. His pajama bottoms almost fell off him and in seconds they were standing in a puddle of clothes. She couldn’t keep her smile hidden as she caressed his warm, damp flesh.

“The door is kind of cold against my back,” she said. “And unless you have a condom handy, this isn’t the right spot.”

He chuckled and grabbed her hand, pulling her into the small living space. His futon bed was against the wall, folded into a sofa, and one end of the room was given over to a computer and camera equipment. The walls were full of photographs, some framed, others simply tacked up. But she didn’t look at them, only the bed mattered. The air smelled of steam and spruce bath gel, freshly washed male. But when she was right up next to him the musk of their combined bodies’ arousal took over, and, entranced, she let him pull her to the futon.

In a second, he had it flattened into a bed, and he tumbled her down, his large body on top of hers.

This moment had taken place in her fantasies any number of times in the past six days, but her mind couldn’t conjure the weight of him pressing her down into his bedding, the completely overwhelming sensation, the way his mouth tasted of spearmint, how his tongue flicked against hers.

He slid down and, ravenously, took one of her breasts into his mouth. She arched into him, practically orgasming at the long-lost sensation of a man suckling her.

“I can’t believe it, your breasts are actually real,” he gasped before licking across one nipple. “I didn’t know real women were actually built like you.”

Her hands clutched at his hair, then moved to his ears. They were so soft, and he moaned against her when she dusted her fingers around the inner whorls. Then he moved his lips to her other breast and she could do nothing but ride out the pleasure. She was so far gone that she didn’t even hear the condom unwrapping, just felt the blunt pleasure of his entrance. It sent her spiraling, lost to sensation with the first thrust inside her. She never wanted this to end.

~

Dion heard beeping. He sat up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, and picked up his phone. Just the morning alarm. Hearing a soft sigh, he turned his head and saw Kasee, fast asleep beside him, her hair spread out on his pillow. No wonder his neck ached. He’d just passed out, sex drunk, flat on the futon after their third round. She’d been eager and generous, the kind of lover no man in his right mind would walk away from. Not for the first time, he wondered if her ex-husband Keith was so cold that he’d engineered his on-camera affair just for the sake of increasing his celebrity. Had he intended the consequence to be a divorce from his beautiful first wife?

Even in sleep, she looked perfect. Her profile had all the right angles. Free of makeup, how beautifully molded her cheekbones were, how straight her nose. She didn’t need makeup tricks to look this good. Even her real lashes were fantastic.

Stealthily, he slid from the covers and padded to the opposite side of the room to pick up his camera. He stepped in close to her and bent to one knee, then snapped off a few shots. Yes, he was right. Perfect. He pulled out the card from his phone and inserted it into his computer. He made a few quick adjustments with photo editing software, then uploaded the three best shots to his agency.

By the time he had finished, Kasee still hadn’t stirred. So, he went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He brushed his teeth then stepped into the bathtub and tilted the shower spray into his face, stretching his arms to the ceiling.

He yelped when he felt warm arms circle his waist from behind. “Kasee?”

“Did you sneak another girl into here while I was sleeping?”

“No.” He squeezed her hands. “Where is your car, by the way? You don’t want it to be towed.”

“I wasn’t planning to spend the night when I parked.”

He shut the spray off. “We’d better go look.”

She was blinking when she turned around. “So I shouldn’t shower?”

He shrugged. “Do you care if you’re towed?”

She yawned, giving him a view of her pretty pink mouth and pearly teeth. “Okay, no shower.”

He helped her step out, then wrapped a towel around her to catch the few droplets she’d managed to catch on her skin, then grabbed his robe and wrapped it around himself. Five minutes later he was dressed. He brought her clothing and her purse and handed them to her. They were out the door in under ten minutes, holding hands.

“You’re surprisingly low maintenance,” he told her as they reached the front door.

“Give me five years. So far my skin is aging well, but it won’t last.”

Despite the bright morning light, he couldn’t see a single flaw on her. “Do you think it’s worth it? All the work women do to try to keep forty looking thirty, thirty looking twenty, and so forth? All the worry?”

“I think it depends on a lot of factors. You can lose your career if you don’t look right. It’s a real thing. And if you marry someone who is obsessed with image, you can lose your marriage, too.”

“So if you start shallow you pay the price?”

“I don’t think that’s fair.” She blinked in the sunlight. “If your calling is to be a TV journalist or an actress or something, maintenance is the price you pay. The marriage issue is a little more problematic, but everyone risks falling in love with the wrong person. And people change.”

“Did Keith change?”

Kasee pulled Dion around the block and pointed. “There’s my car.”

“Good, it’s still there. Did you get your keys?”

“Yes, I have everything. I’m sorry our morning had to end so abruptly.” She paused against her car, putting her hand up to shield her mouth. “I didn’t even drink any water, so don’t try to kiss me.”

“I’ll buy you a spare toothbrush today,” he promised. “And I can tell you where to park so we don’t have any trouble.”

She nodded. “Keith changed, of course he did. We started dating eleven years ago, but I always knew he was into appearance. It’s just that at twenty, I didn’t know anything would ever change. He was my first love.”

“But not your last.”

She smiled at him, and in the morning sunlight, all signs of age were bleached from her face, making her look like that innocent twenty-year-old again. At thirty-one, she still had that perfect, high-bottom Jennifer Aniston-in-Friends-Season-One body, and he could easily see her as a coed. “No, I don’t think he was my last.”

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “See you later. Thanks for the wonderful night.”

She fished her keys from her designer purse. He waited on the curb, patting his pockets to see if he had any cash. He found a five-dollar bill in one pocket of his cargo pants. After she drove away he walked half a block to a coffee place and got a black coffee and an apple fritter, then walked home, every muscle loose and relaxed, all right in his world.

Five minutes later, he was back in front of his computer. He lifted the lid off his coffee and put the cup to his lips. He relaunched his agency website and loaded his email program, checking to see what rumors the day would bring. But what he did see made him very happy. A reality show blog had already bought one of his Kasee photos.

“Good way to start the day, money in the bank,” he said out loud. Kasee would get a kick out of it. She was news again, just like she’d wanted.

~

Kasee booted up her laptop a couple of hours later. She needed to check her production messages and see where they were shooting next. Wriggling uncomfortably on her desk chair, due to the unaccustomed activity of the night, she opened her email and started reading her emails. Brock’s assistant had sent her links to three blogs. The first two were yawners, just notices that the show was filming again with a mention of the major players and old photographs from season one. But when she opened the third one she saw red.

Where had the blog gotten that picture of her sleeping, without a lick of makeup on her face? The post had insider information about her appearance with Dion. Not only did they have the photograph, they had news that only a few people involved in the filming would know.

She printed out the entire article, using up her color cartridges as the printer printed the photographs. What was Dion up to now? Was he just blindly selling off every piece of her life that he could? She dropped her head into her hands. Had she developed even worse taste in men during her thirties than she had in her twenties?

Fuming, she thrust the still-damp sheets into a folder, shoved her feet into ballet flats, and went out the door. Back to Dion’s, to tell him what she thought of him.

Damn it! And the sex had been so good, too. How was she going to spin this situation now? Had she just dumped herself back into Humiliation City? What was wrong with her?