Heather pulled her robe tighter, unable to lose the chill that had overcome her. It had been almost two years since she’d seen her father. That time he’d shown up at a movie premiere and threatened to cause a scene if she didn’t talk to him. She’d given him money to go away, as she always did when she saw him. Why else did he ever show up?

She braced against the counter for support, her legs suddenly feeling wobbly. “How did you get in here?” He would have had to pass a security guard to get on the lot. Dean Hutchins was a crafty man, though. Security rarely deterred him.

Dean pocketed the lighter he’d been playing with and held his hands out to his sides. “Now is that any way to greet your old man?”

She glanced up at the clock on the microwave. She was due in wardrobe at exactly that moment. She didn’t have time for this.

And Seth!

He was still in the room behind her, a flimsy partition the only barrier between this part of the trailer and that. He’d hear everything, no matter how she hushed her voice.

She swallowed her sob of humiliation—she couldn’t worry about Seth now—and repeated her question. “How did you get in here, Daddy?”

Dean took one booted foot off the table and put it on the floor. “I opened the door. Didn’t even have to pick the lock this time.”

That had been nearly five years ago. When she’d done a six-week run in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof at the Ahmanson Theatre. He’d picked the lock to her dressing room, was waiting after a show. “I told you if you ever did that again I’d have you arrested.”

“But you didn’t mean it, babydoll.”

“I did mean it.” Though she wasn’t sure about that. Pressing charges against Dean would bring him into the limelight. Everyone would know about him and, subsequently, everyone would know about her. What her stock was. That she was, at heart, nothing but trash.

She always took precautions now. Lexie knew about her father and extra security was written into all her contracts. The lot was secured! “Who let you on the lot? You have to have clearance to get through security.”

Dean waggled his brows. “Guess I had clearance.”

“Tell me!”

He sighed. “Turns out the security guard is a Heather Hutchins fan—oops, I mean Wainwright. Or at least a fan of her sixteen-year-old body in a skimpy bikini.”

She knew that picture. There were few from her childhood; they hadn’t owned a camera and her mother was generally too drunk to care about preserving memories. Heather had bought a disposable camera to take candid pics with a friend. A handful happened to be taken in their swimsuits while they were tanning. If she hadn’t run far and fast from her home when her father had kicked her out, she’d have gathered all those personal items. Besides her name, she’d left a lot behind—things that Dean had sold off over the years. Wasn’t that what parents did when their children became famous?

What was more surprising was the security guard. “He let you on the lot in exchange for a picture of me?” No wonder she had a general distrust of, well, everyone. “Hope it was worth it. He’s not going to have a job here after today.”

“Now, Heather. You don’t need to be a bitch.” Dean plopped his other foot on the floor and leaned forward, his hands on his knees. “You’ve always had it out for the working man.”

Her father hadn’t been a working man since she’d first hit it big. He lived off the money she threw to him—money she gave him in hopes that he’d finally leave her alone and let her put her past behind her. “What do you want?”

Dean stood and walked to her, spreading his arms open in an inviting hug. “Can’t I just come by to see my babydoll?”

“Yeah, I’m not buying that.” She ducked out of his embrace. “Look, I’m at work here and I need to be in makeup. So let’s skip all the usual bullshit and cut to the chase. What do you want?”

“Work?” Dean scanned the trailer. Heather knew what he saw—the forty-two inch flat screen TV, the granite countertops, the stainless steel appliances. He was probably adding up their worth. “Sure as shit doesn’t look like work to me. Deluxe trailer with all the fancy? Nah, this is what I call a vacation.”

Her patience had reached its limit. “What. The fuck. Do you want?”

“Okay, okay.” Dean lifted his hands in surrender. Then he put on his serious face, his voice growing somber. “It’s not for me. It’s your mother.” She’d definitely gotten her acting skills from her dad. “She needs to go to rehab.”

“Again? That was your excuse last time.” Why did he even bother with reasons? She’d give him the money anyway in the end, whatever he said. “How much is it going to cost?”

“Two hundred.”

Her eyes popped. “Two hundred thousand?”

“It’s a six-month program. She needs the intensity. Seems the thirty-day bullshit doesn’t work for her.”

She doubted her mother had ever been to rehab for two days much less thirty. The money she gave to her father paid for booze and coke. She wouldn’t be surprised if Dean was coked up now.

It made her sick to think about it. Made her pissed. “You know what? I can’t do this anymore. I told you that the last time you came begging for money. And frankly, you’re not authorized to be here. I could call security.” She picked up the cell phone she’d left on the counter earlier and held it up, threatening.

“You could. But you won’t want to cause a scene.” His lips tugged up into a smile that bared his drug-yellowed teeth. “See, babydoll? I know you.”

“You don’t know me at all.” And yet he did. He knew she was embarrassed by him, knew that she wanted to sweep him under a rug. Her threats were empty.

“I do know you.” He patted her on the arm. “And I know you wouldn’t turn your back on your family.”

Even though she’d shrugged away from his touch, it was just enough contact to stir her emotions. She folded her arms across her chest as a tear slipped down her cheek. “You mean, like you turned your back on me?”

“Now, Heather. You’re the one who ran away.”

“You kicked me out!”

“We had a spat. That’s all.”

He probably really saw it that way. Thought that her whole reason for taking off boiled down to one argument on one night of her young life. But it hadn’t. She’d wanted to leave for years—since she was old enough to think about running away. And she hadn’t because she thought for some crazy reason that she might be needed. Loved, even.

Except, every day of her teenage life proved differently. She was treated like she was a burden, told she was worth nothing, yelled at and screamed at and belittled. So when her father kicked her out, it was the permission she needed to leave. To let go.

Yet, she hadn’t ever been able to do that last part. Well, she was doing it now. Once and for all. “Okay, I’m done. Please, leave.”

“Not ‘til I get what I came for.” He took another step toward her. “What I deserve.”

She couldn’t back up farther, trapped between her father and the counter. She tried not to shrink away, to stand up to the man. “You don’t fucking deserve anything from me. Get out!”

“Don’t you talk to me like I’m some stranger, Heather.” Dean grabbed her arm, pinching her skin between his fingers. “I’m your father. Your flesh and blood.”

“Let me go.” She wasn’t afraid of him—he’d smacked her around before, but never really hurt her. It was her pride that was wounded now. And she was pretty certain there’d be a bruise from his grip and she sure as hell didn’t want to explain that to makeup.

“Not until you show me some respect.” His grip tightened.

“Let me go!” She yanked her arm away, but it wasn’t her own action that released her from her father’s hold.

It was Seth.

“The lady said to let her go.” In a blur of movement, Seth had Dean’s face slammed against the refrigerator, his arm pinned behind his back.

“Don’t you worry yourself about this,” Dean said, his high-pitched tone the only sign he was bothered by his predicament. “I’m her father. We’re fine.”

Seth pulled Dean’s arm higher. “I don’t care if you’re the goddamn Pope. She says to let her go, you let her go.”

Heather’s stomach lurched with conflicting emotions. On the one hand, Seth’s hero act was very touching. She’d dated guys that protected her from fans and overzealous paparazzi. But this…this felt different. Sweet, to say the least.

On the other hand, Dean was her father. The father she hid from the world. And if she wanted him to stay hidden, he’d have to go quietly. Seth’s approach promised a whole lot of noise.

She bit down on her lip until she tasted blood. “Seth, it’s fine.”

“Heather…” His voice trailed off, his expression speaking volumes. You don’t have to go through this, it said. You don’t have to take this from him. Not anymore.

It was nothing she hadn’t said to herself time after time after time. But the words remained stuck in her head and shining in Seth’s eyes. She couldn’t act on them, no matter how convincing the argument. “I appreciate this, Seth, I do. But you can let him go.”

With a heavy sigh, Seth released his grip on her father.

“See?” Dean smirked with his victory.

“Daddy, you need to leave.” She wished she had more conviction. She so wanted to be in control of the situation.

And Dean fed off that. Fed off her doubts and inferiority complex. “I’m not going anywhere ‘til we get what we discussed.” He said it with honey in his voice, but there was no mistaking the threat.

Seth shifted as though he wanted to take Dean down, his hands flexing at his sides. Through gritted teeth he said, “Heather, I’m calling security.”

“No!” She did not want security there. “No, just…let me take care of it my way. I have it under control.” As if saying it could make it true.

“Yeah, it certainly looks that way.”

“Who is this asshole anyway?” Dean’s be sweet tactic was gone, replaced with be a dickhead. “Your bodyguard? Why doesn’t it surprise me that you’re fuckin’ around at work? You sure did live up to be the trashy slut you promised to be.”

Seth took a step toward Dean. “What the fuck did you say to her?”

“She heard me.”

Dean had to be coked up. Or stupid. Or both. Because he showed not an ounce of anxiety about the fighting gleam in Seth’s eyes and Seth could take the scrawny Dean out in one blow.

There was no denying that part of her would love to see that. Would love to see Dean lying on the floor in misery, a payback for all the misery he’d put her through.

But violence would bring an even bigger scandal. The scene was already embarrassing—her drugged -out father, she and Seth still wet from a shower. Gossip columns would go crazy.

She stepped between Seth and Dean, Seth’s warm rage radiating on her back. “Daddy, I’m not a slut. And I’m not trash. I moved out of the parks and got where I am by myself.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Real hard work, wasn’t it? You’re paid to let men all over the world fuck you with their eyes. What an accomplishment.”

Seth stepped around her. “It’s time you left.”

“You gonna make me?”

“I’m sure as hell happy to—”

Heather slammed her hand down on the counter. “Shut up! Both of you!” She bent down and opened a low cupboard that hid the small safe where she stowed her purse. After entering the code, she fished around for her checkbook and a pen. She filled in the blanks, adding another hundred to the amount Dean had requested, and scribbled her name before standing again.

“Here,” she said handing the check to her father who snatched it away with a greedy swipe. “Take this. Leave. Forever. I don’t want to see you again.” Another tear rolled down her cheek. “I mean it this time, Daddy. Next time I’ll press charges.”

“Heather.” From behind her, Seth’s hands settled on her arms, his breath tickling at her neck. “You don’t have to give him anything.”

“Stay out of this, pretty boy.” Dean folded the check and stuffed it in his back pocket. “Thank you, babydoll. Your Mama will be right proud.”

Dean leaned down to kiss her cheek, but Heather ducked away. “Just leave.”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

Just like when Heather left the trailer all those years ago, Dean didn’t look back. The trailer door bounced behind him, not latching. If only he could stay as gone as he was right at that moment.

“Heather…” Seth rubbed his hands up and down her arms. He was strength, a pillar she longed to cling to, a warmth she wanted to bury herself in until the chill was gone from her bones.

But before she could fall into him, she’d have to explain. And she wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t.

She wiped the moisture from her cheeks and shrugged out of his hands. Seth’s presence was like a too-hot electric blanket. She wanted it, wanted him, but he was too warm to endure. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“I know, princess.” He reached for her hand and massaged her palm with his thumb. The pressure and heat of it felt so good, so inviting that she almost abandoned her shield.

Seth prodded on, his tone gentle. “Why did you let him bully you like that? He’s not bigger than you, you know.”

Dean was bigger than her. Black-hole size big. How could she expect Seth to understand? She didn’t. And that’s why she wasn’t going into it with him. Not now. Not ever.

“I said I don’t want to talk about this.” She pulled her hand out of his, immediately missing the sliver of comfort it had given her. Hiding behind her wall of shame wasn’t her first choice. It was her only choice.

She wrapped her arms tightly around herself wondering if she’d ever be able to let anyone in, fearing the answer was no.

* * *

Just like that she’d closed him off.

Less than twenty minutes before, Seth had been in the shower with Heather, had been inside her. She’d conceded to a date. They’d made progress—she finally seemed to have placed some faith in him.

Then in an instant, it was gone.

Seth shook his head, not sure what his next move should be. As it was, they were at a standoff, eyes fixed on each other, miles of distance between them. He wavered between leaving and crushing her to him. But what did she want? He decided to ask. “Do you want me to go?”

She opened her mouth, her chest shaking as she took a ragged breath to speak.

Before she could say anything, the trailer door banged open. A young woman with short curly brunette hair, blood red nails, and a nose ring appeared with fire in her eyes. “Heather, what the fuck? You’re late for wardrobe.”

The woman—not much more than a girl, really—scanned the trailer. Seth felt her assess the situation, saw her features mold in concern when she spotted the actress with tear-stained cheeks. “What’s wrong?” She glanced at Seth, then back at Heather.

Sensing the accusation in the quick flit of her eyes, he put his hands up. “Hey, it wasn’t me.”

Heather took a breath. “My father…”

The girl’s eyes doubled in size. “Dean? He’s here?” She peered past Seth into the bedroom, her spine straight, ready to fight.

“You just missed him,” Seth volunteered when Heather seemed unable to answer.

“Oh, shit. Hold on.” The girl pulled out her phone from her pocket and dialed. After a few seconds she said, “Hey, it’s Lexie. Heather’s got a migraine.”

“I just need a few minutes,” Heather whispered.

The girl—Lexie—nodded as she continued her conversation on the phone. “No, she’s taken something for it, but we need a few more minutes for it to get working. I’ll get her there as soon as I can.”

Seth watched Heather as Lexie finished her call. He was intrigued by how the young girl came in and took care of business without waiting for permission. Even more intriguing was how Heather let her. He suspected there were few people Heather let take charge, how hard it must have been for her to trust him. His chest swelled with the sudden clarity.

As well as Lexie seemed to handle the situation, there was still something else that needed to be done. “We should call security.”

“No,” both women said at same time.

“But Lexie,” Heather said, “the guard does need to get canned. He let Dean on the lot. Can you contact whoever it is in charge of that?”

“I’ll take care of it.”

Seth flexed and relaxed his hands, needing something to occupy himself, needing something to do. She hadn’t asked him to leave. Yet. But she hadn’t asked him to stay either. Well, he might be signing his walking papers, but he had to know. “How can I help, Heather?”

To her credit, she paused before she answered. “Nothing. You can’t help this.”

Like hell there was nothing he could do to help. He could help her in so many ways if she let him. He got this. He understood drug addicts and desperation and being ashamed of his parent.

But it would take a fight to try and convince Heather. And this wasn’t the time for a fight. “Okay. I better get back to work, then.”

He wanted her to ask him to stay. She didn’t.

“You must be the carpenter.” Lexie held out her hand to him. Strangely, it felt like she was postponing his departure.

“You must be the assistant.” He shook her hand.

“Very nice, Heather.” She clicked her tongue appreciatively. “Very nice.”

“Not now. Please.” Heather rubbed her temples. “I need to freshen up.” She turned toward the bedroom then stopped, remembering something. “Lexie…?”

Her assistant could read her mind. “I’ll get your valium.”

“Perfect. Thanks.” Heather disappeared into the bedroom, shutting the partition behind her.

Since Lexie hadn’t moved, Seth took the opportunity to get some answers. “Hey, what’s the deal with all that?”

“Look, she can hear me so I can’t talk to you.”

Right. Of course not.

He turned to leave, but Lexie put a hand on him to stop him. Loudly she said, “I’d love to help but, you know. My job and all.” Seth watched as Lexie dug in a drawer and found a notepad and pen. She continued talking while she scrawled something. “My loyalty is with Heather,” she said as she ripped off the paper and handed it to Seth. “Clearly.”

“Yeah, yeah. I understand.”

Though he didn’t understand. Not until he read the paper. It had Lexie’s number and a note that said, Call me and I’ll clear things up.

“So you better leave now.”

Seth looked up at Lexie and found her smiling. “Thank you.”

Her reply was a whisper. “Anytime.”