Josh stared into Kate’s striking blue eyes as disappointment warred with desire in his gut. He knew that face, and not just because he’d spent the last hour and a half walking through Central Park with her. Now that he’d gotten a good look at her without her oversized sunglasses, he knew her. He’d seen her on magazine covers and movie posters. Maybe even heard her songs on the radio.

Katherine Hayes. Kate.

Fucking hell. She was one of the biggest names in Hollywood.

She glanced over her shoulder at the crowd of fans and paparazzi lingering nearby. The man holding them at bay was tall and stocky, dressed all in black. His dark hair was buzzed in a military-style cut, his eyes shielded behind mirrored shades. He might as well have had the word BODYGUARD emblazoned on the front of his T-shirt.

Where’d her bodyguard been while she and Josh were strolling through the park together? Had he been shadowing them even then?

Kate met his gaze, her blue eyes earnest. “Look, I’m really sorry about this. I have to go, but I’d like to make it up to you. Maybe we could grab dinner?”

“No, thanks.”

“Josh…” Regret shone in her eyes.

He shook his head. Why was he still standing here, talking to her? He couldn’t seem to make himself walk away.

The crowd behind her had grown restless, surging steadily closer. She reached out and took his hand. “I’ll be in touch, okay?”

Without waiting for an answer, she turned and walked briskly over to her bodyguard. Two photographers shoved past him, pressing glossy eight-by-ten photos into her hands.

“Any comment?” one of them asked.

“When were they taken?”

Kate looked down at the photos and recoiled. “What the—”

Josh stepped closer, wondering what was wrong. The whirring of camera shutters filled his ears. Kate’s posture had gone rigid. The photos slipped through her fingers and fluttered to the ground at her feet as the crowd around her gasped.

Josh caught a glimpse of bare skin. Breasts. Kate’s face, smiling seductively.

Nude photos.

Shit. The mother and daughter she’d greeted earlier still stood nearby, and the mother shot Kate a look of absolute disgust as she dragged her daughter away. Kate opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Her bodyguard took her arm and led her toward the street, muscling his way through the crowd as Ben and Jerry darted along ahead of them. She glanced over her shoulder, and her eyes locked on Josh’s. Emotion socked him in the gut hard, the desire to go after her, to shield her from those lenses and make sure she was okay. But that was ridiculous. He didn’t even know her. And she had a bodyguard to keep her safe.

Kate stepped into a silver Mercedes waiting at the curb. The door slammed after her, and then she was gone.

---

Kate bottled up the hurt and embarrassment and shoved them down deep. Fake. The photos were fake, and her team was already working damage control. But the shock on little Ava’s face…the look of disgust her mother had given Kate after she’d seen the photos.

There was no undoing that.

An invisible weight seemed to press down on her as the Mercedes pulled to the curb in front of her building and she stepped outside. No paparazzi waited today, thankfully. They must have all followed her into the park. Head down, she gripped Ben’s and Jerry’s leashes and headed for the front door, Mick at her side.

“Excuse me, Ms. Hayes?”

Kate looked up to see a young woman standing to the side of the door. She had shoulder-length brown hair and a nervous smile. A fan.

Kate returned her smile. “Hi, there.”

“I’m, um, sorry to bother you, but…” She drifted off, glancing around nervously.

“Don’t be. It’s always nice to meet a fan,” Kate told her. “But listen, I don’t actually do photos or autographs here at my home. It’s just a rule I keep, for privacy reasons. Come see me tomorrow morning on the Today show, and I’ll be happy to sign something for you, okay?”

“Oh, I—”

“It was nice meeting you!” Kate called over her shoulder as she hurried inside. She knew the fans meant well, but it creeped her out when they showed up outside her building. There were pretty much only two places she wouldn’t sign autographs—her home and public restrooms. Something about this woman in particular didn’t sit right with her, although she couldn’t put her finger on the reason why. Maybe it was just the stress of the day getting to her.

By the time she made it to her condo on the eighth floor, she felt like going a few rounds with a punching bag. She dropped her purse on the end table by the door and unclipped Ben and Jerry from their leashes. Several people she didn’t recognize buzzed around the living room, prepping for the upcoming afternoon of meetings.

Harry Stevenson, her manager, stood by the far wall, silhouetted against the floor-to-ceiling windows, with Central Park and the New York City skyline as a backdrop. He crossed the room to her, looking like he had just stepped out of an Armani catalog in a crisp gray suit, candy-apple-red tie, and polished black loafers, his hair the color of wrought iron. “Quite a day you’ve had.”

Kate walked past him to the windows. She gazed down at Central Park, green and vibrant and teeming with midday visitors. She thought of Josh, and warmth flooded her cheeks. “They’re fake, you know.”

“I’m sorry that I have to ask, but are you absolutely certain?” he asked.

“Positive. Who would do this? How?”

Jenn, her assistant, walked into the living room from the study, carrying her iPad. “It happens, especially with someone like you who keeps such a squeaky-clean public image. You can do anything with Photoshop these days.”

Kate shuddered.

“You look young in the photos,” Harry said. “Did you ever pose for anything before you were famous, maybe for a boyfriend? I’ve see it happen too many times to count.”

“I’ve never posed for anything like this. I’ve never even snapped a nude selfie.” Of that she was certain. But her face did look young in the photos. She’d worn her hair that way in high school. She pressed a hand to her forehead and forced herself not to think of the possible implications. “It’s my face in those photos, but that’s not my body.”

“I can hire someone to analyze them and prove that they’re fake.” Jenn glanced up from her iPad, fixing Kate with her green-eyed stare. Her red hair was swept back in a simple ponytail, with loose tendrils escaping to frame her face. As a personal assistant, she was more valuable than the pink diamond ring Kate had received from her record label after her album Gravity was certified Diamond for ten million copies sold.

“Yes, let’s do that.” Kate blew out a breath.

“And Vero will be here in a few minutes to run damage control. She’s the queen of damage control.” Jenn was tapping away on her iPad, brows bunched.

Yes, there was a reason Veronica Padrón was the most sought-after publicist in Hollywood, a reason Kate hadn’t had much use for. Until today.

“I know that, but I’d rather not need to know that.” She grabbed the insulated cup from Olive’s, her favorite café, that Jenn had left for her on the coffee table and took a much-needed sip of steaming rich cappuccino as she sank onto the couch. Jerry trotted over and hopped up beside her.

Jenn set her iPad on the table. “Anyone in your position is going to need damage control sometimes. It comes with the territory.”

“The Fan Voice Awards nominations start today.” Kate stroked her fingers through Jerry’s soft fur. He scooted closer and rested his chin on her thigh.

“I know. This is a blip on the radar, Kate. Voting runs through December. No one will remember a few fake photos by then.”

“Let’s hope.”

It was silly. She had shelves filled with awards. She cherished them all, a tangible seal of approval from her peers. But the Fans Voice Awards meant the most because they were voted by the fans. It ate at her like tiny piranhas in her gut that the image she’d worked so hard for might be tarnished. She’d won Female Artist of the Year the last four years. If she won again this year, she would receive a legacy award as the first-ever female artist to win five years straight.

It meant more to her than she cared to admit.

The love and support of her fans kept her going when she wanted to curl up in a ball and give in to the nightmares that still haunted her most nights. This record-breaking win would be validation somewhere deep inside that she was in fact worthy of their devotion.

“There’s something else I wanted to mention.” Harry sat in the overstuffed chair opposite the couch. “Your mother called me last week.”

“She what?” Kate’s throat tightened, and her stomach rolled.

“She wanted to get in contact with you. I got the impression she was after money.” He raised his eyebrows for effect. “Given your estrangement, I had her checked out before I mentioned it to you.”

“And it…it’s really her?”

He nodded. “Which means you and I need to decide how we want to handle this.”

Kate pressed a hand to her chest, her fist clenched. She’d been seventeen when her mother slammed the door in her face, shattering what was left of Kate’s innocence. They hadn’t spoken since. Not a word in twelve years. There was no good reason for Doreen Hathaway to reappear in her life after all this time.

She met Harry’s gaze. “Tell her it’s too late.”