Morning came slowly. Waking up came even slower. I had never been a morning person, and this morning was being particularly difficult. As birds outside the window chirped and sang, I rolled onto my belly and buried my face beneath my pillow.

What a crazy dream.

Completely crazy.

Nothing about it had made sense, but man…it had been so vivid.

As tired as I was, as sore as I was, sleep was slipping farther and farther away, so I rolled onto my back, still determinedly blocking out the light.

The bed springs squeaked.

I frowned.

I didn’t have bed springs.

And just like that, my memory came rushing back. I was staying with Uncle Daniel at his place in California.

Jolting upright, I looked around.

Nothing looked familiar.

“Oh, shit,” I whispered.

I wasn’t in my room at Uncle Daniel’s house.

The rest of my memory came forward.

The bed creaked under me again, and I sucked in a breath, trying to calm the panic raging inside me.

That crazy dream hadn’t been a dream.

It was real.

Shit.

A cold sweat broke out over me, and I slid out of the bed, waiting for my legs to steady under me. Bracing a hand against the wall, I stared outside over the lavish, green estate that belonged to one Florence Woods.

“Unreal,” I whispered. “Completely unreal.”

Reaching up, I touched the necklace I’d put on before going to bed. The golden heart seemed to pulse under my touch. It was warm, even warmer than my skin.

“I’m going to save her,” I said to myself.

I didn’t know how. I couldn’t even remember when it was supposed to happen, but I knew it was coming—so that had to count.

I had a few days, I was pretty sure.

She was still with Glenn, and they’d seemed…okay last night.

Okay, even if he had seemed to be something of a flirt.

Well, not a flirt.

Just…aware. Full of masculine awareness that had set my skin to sizzling, all but burning.

“Stop it,” I said quietly. Closing my eyes, I rested my forehead against the window. Heat from the morning sun had warmed it, and I laughed weakly. No triple pane windows to insulate a home in the sixties, I guessed. An image of Glenn danced through my mind, making the heat of the sun seem almost tepid.

“Stop it. He’s not yours.”

* * *

Florence was already up by the time I got to the house. Harrison escorted me into the breakfast nook where she was munching on bacon and eggs, and sipping coffee that was strong, hot, and black.

I longed for a mocha, but something told me that trend hadn’t hit Hollywood yet, so I asked for cream and sugar and doctored mine, causing Florence’s brows to arch.

“Like it sweet, huh?”

“Sweet enough to cause cavities,” I said with mock cheerfulness. My belly growled, reminding me how long it had been since I’d had a decent meal. The canapés and hors d’ oeuvres offered last night hadn’t done anything to fill the hole in my belly.

“Miss Woods, your car will be here in thirty minutes,” Harrison advised before turning to me. “Would you like breakfast, Miss Cruz?”

“I’d love some. Where are the plates?”

Surprise danced across his dark face, then he smiled. “I’ll get it, please, sit.”

“I can…”

Florence laughed. “Honey, that’s why I pay him. He’ll get it. Just relax.”

I watched as he walked out of the room, the unease in me growing, but I was so out of place and I didn’t know how to handle any of this.

Florence rose, coffee in hand. “I’ll be down shortly.”

She left the room in a cloud of perfume, her long, sandy waves spilling down the back of her satin robe.

Harrison put a plate in front of me, and I gave him an uncomfortable smile. “Thanks.”

“Miss Woods will be down shortly. Please, make yourself at home.”

“Are you leaving?” I eyed him over the rim of my coffee.

“I have to take care of the day’s shopping. Is there anything you’d like me to pick up for you? I understand you’ll be staying here.” He continued to smile at me, eyes kind.

“No. Um…I’m good, thanks. I’ll take care of it.”

“It’s no trouble.”

I shook my head. I didn’t even know what I needed—except a time machine. I had to fight back a hysterical laugh.

Once he was gone, I stopped trying to hold it together and dropped my head into my hands. What was I going to do?

The scent of bacon and eggs wafted up to me and, feeling dejected, I picked up a crunchy slice and munched on it. Yum. Bacon. I kept at it until my belly was full, wishing I was somebody who could take comfort from food. I might eat when I was feeling down, but I sure as hell didn’t feel better for it.

My belly was full to bursting by the time I’d finished clearing my plate. I got up to seek out the kitchen before somebody could appear to wash the plate.

I’d just finished when I heard a knock on the door.

If there were other people who worked there besides Harrison, I hadn’t seen them, so I went to answer the door, checking the clock as I walked by. It was ten-thirty, a bit early for the car, so I peeked through the window before I opened it.

A young woman stood there.

I pasted a smile on my face and answered.

“Hello.” She smiled politely.

“Hi.”

“I’m Donna Cruz.”

Shit. Shit. Shit! “Oh.” My brain raced furiously. “Miss Cruz. I’m terribly sorry, but the studio execs promised you’d arrive yesterday. Weren’t you informed?”

Her mouth rounded. “I…I’m sorry, excuse me?”

The words poured out of me. “Yes, we requested you be here yesterday. You weren’t, so they hired somebody else.”

She blinked, looking dazed, and guilt churned inside me.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry…I’m sorry! Out loud, I said, “I really am sorry, but Miss Woods needed somebody immediately.”

Please don’t let her come down, please don’t let her come down. I felt almost sick with guilt, but I had to keep this job, had to stay with Florence. If I didn’t, then Florence would commit suicide—and I had to believe I was here for a reason. What other reason could I be here for?

“I don’t understand. I wasn’t told—” She shook her head. “Please, if you could just let me—”

“I’m sorry,” I said again, all but hurling the words out as I went to close the door. “The job is no longer available. Good luck.”

I shut the door and leaned my back against it, eyes closed. I hated myself for what I’d just done.

You did it for a reason. And she wouldn’t have had a job after Florence died anyway.

That didn’t make me feel any better.

Some part of me almost wished that I could go back to the silly co-ed I’d been up until the accident—the girl who probably wouldn’t have been too concerned with everything going on around me.

Sure, I’d have been sad knowing somebody had killed herself, but I wouldn’t have thought it was my job to fix it.

Yet I knew better now.

If I knew, then I had to do something.

People mattered, and sometimes doing the right thing—or trying to—meant others got hurt. I didn’t like that, but this hurt was definitely the lesser of two evils.

“Who was at the door?”

I jolted guiltily and looked up to see Florence at the top of the stairs, wearing a pair of jeans rolled up at the ankle and a men’s shirt. The outfit brought a small smile to my lips. Some things, I guessed, never went out of style.

I shook my head. “I don’t know,” I lied. “She was lost.”

I hated the deception, but I hated the thought of her dying even more.

“You should have called me,” Florence said, looking concerned. “I could have helped.”

“Oh, it was fine. I actually knew exactly where she was going,” I said, rushing to cover my mistake. Florence frowned and I continued, making up one lie to cover another. “She was just a street off, and since I noticed the streets on the drive over, she’s all straightened out.”

“That’s lovely.” Florence smiled. “I can never keep streets straight.”

I quickly changed the subject. “I’m so excited about today. Spending all day at on a movie set? How cool is that?”

She chuckled. “Honey, you are going to be so disillusioned. The movies themselves are magic. But making them? Not so much.”

“Really?” I huffed out a breath, surprised that I actually felt let down. “That’s kind of…depressing.”

She winked at me. “Tell me about it. Sometimes I think I’ll die from the boredom. But don’t tell anybody.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

Florence smiled and walked away. If only I could tell her it wasn’t boredom, but a heartbreak, that would kill her.