Dear Cupid (13 page)

Realizing the direction of her thoughts, she pulled them up short and decided she was glad he’d cut his hair. Very glad. She needed to concentrate on doing her job, not indulge in fantasies about running her fingers through Mike’s hair. Especially since that image led to a whole wealth of other fantasies about steaming up the windows of his vintage sports car.

She forced her mind back to the subject at hand as he slid into the driver’s seat. “Tell me anyway.”

“Tell you what?” he asked.

“About the scout’s honor thing.”

“Naw-ah.” He shook his head and brought the car to life with a twist of his wrist. “That’s privileged information. You know—guy stuff.”

Kate narrowed her eyes as they pulled onto the road. “And I’m his mother, which overrides any secret male pacts.”

From the way Mike concentrated on driving, she knew he was doing a quick mental edit of whatever Dylan had actually said. “Basically, he wanted to know what my intentions were.”

“And you told him ...?”

His grin turned wicked. “That I wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want me to.”

“Oh, now that’s reassuring.”
And one of the oldest lines in the book.

“It was to him,” he insisted. “After all, what seven-year-old boy would believe his mother actually wants to do the horizontal boogie?”

“The horizontal boogie?” Her laugh surprised her, because it came so quick and easy.

“There.” He nodded in approval at the sound. “That’s better. You should laugh more often.”

Her smile faded as she became aware of the close quarters in the car and how near his hand on the gearshift rested to her thigh. Physical awareness tingled along her skin. Shifting in her seat, she searched for a safer topic. “Thank you for what you said to Linda.”

“What, about her being round?”

“No.” She shook her head at him. “About glowing like a fertility goddess.”

“And did you glow when you were pregnant?”

“No, I ate. And ate, and ate.”

“I’d liked to have seen that.” He said the words with quiet sincerity. “Have you ever thought of having another?”

“Baby?” she asked, startled, because she had been thinking about that very thing lately. Watching Linda these last few weeks, she’d thought about it a lot. “I used to want one. When Dylan started walking, I used to yearn for another baby to hold and fuss over. They’re so sweet when they’re little.”

“So, why didn’t you?’

Because by then my marriage was falling apart around me. Even though I didn
’
t want to admit it, I knew it was ending. Even back then, I knew
. “Another baby would have been a mistake,” she said simply, and felt her heart grieve a little for the children she’d never borne. “Although sometimes I regret not giving Dylan a brother or sister. I had one of each, both older, and have always thought every kid should know that.”

“Know what?” he asked.

“The noise and chaos of a big family, friends coming and going, fighting for the last piece of bread at dinner.”

“Waiting in line for the bathroom,” he added.

“Ah, you have siblings too.”

“Three. All girls. All younger.”

Her eyes widened. “I bet you did wait in line for the bathroom.”

“I could write a book about it.” They both laughed, and for a moment, his gaze held hers before he turned his attention back to the road. “You know, if you still wanted to give Dylan that brother or sister, I could be talked into helping out.”

“Sorry.” She shook her head at him. “You can’t. Or have you forgotten you swore scout’s honor to be on your best behavior.”

“I only swore not to do anything you didn’t want me to do.” He raised his brows at her. “So, what do you say? You want to make a baby?”

She just laughed, deciding to be amused rather than offended at such a silly proposition.

THE
distant strains of music, laughter, and voices caught Kate’s ears the moment Mike opened the door to the Lakeview Inn. The festive sound drew her like an old, favorite song that she’d nearly forgotten. How on earth had a woman who so enjoyed people allowed her life to dwindle to little more than worrying over bills and taking care of Dylan?

“Sounds like we’ve got a full house already,” Mike said.

“I thought the party wouldn’t get going till later.” She craned her neck to get a better look at the crowd that spilled out of a door at the far end of the lobby. Beyond them, a wall of glass offered a view of the fading sunset reflecting off the lake.

“I guess I forgot the schmooze factor,” Mike confided close to her ear.

“The schmooze factor?”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “Anytime there’s a Hollywood director around to schmooze with, you can bet every wanna-be actor and scriptwriter within a hundred miles will be crawling out of the woodwork.”

“Hey, Magic Man,” someone called as they neared the door to the bar.

“Hey, Ricky.” Mike raised a hand in greeting as a man in a zoot suit detached himself from the crowd. “I understand congratulations are in order.”

“You better believe it.” Ricky struck a pose with his thumbs behind his lapels. He had the kind of polished good looks that came more from grooming than genes. “You are looking at one gainfully employed movie actor—even if my first role off the stage is a two-minute bit part.”

“Even Kevin Wells had to start somewhere,” Mike pointed out.

“True,” Ricky admitted. “Speaking of, don’t forget you promised to introduce me to him tonight—if he ever shows up. Rumor has it, he’s holed up in his room pampering his voice.”

“Kevin Wells?” Kate’s eyes widened at the mention of Hollywood’s newest box-office draw. “He’s going to be here? Tonight?”

“Maybe.” Mike shrugged as if meeting a movie star held little interest.  “He plays the owner of the Wild West show.”

“You didn’t tell me that.” His blasé attitude made Kate feel a little foolish for being so excited. But then, who cared, she decided. She was there to have fun and meeting a celebrity would definitely be fun.

“I thought I told you.” Mike said absently, then he turned back to his friend. “Ricky, I want you to meet Kate. Kate, this is Richard Sanchez, president of the Actors’ Alliance.”

As they shook hands, Ricky leaned back to eye her up and down. “Great look. You in film?”

“Heavens no,” she laughed.

“Kate’s a writer,” Mike elaborated, making her blink in surprise. No one had ever introduced her as a writer.

“Too bad.” Richard said. “A little peroxide and you’d be a dead ringer for Marilyn Monroe in that outfit.”

Kate laughed at the outrageous compliment as the three of them moved through the doorway and into the dimly lit wonderland beyond. Overhead, hundreds of star-shaped silver balloons danced along the ceiling, trailing Mylar streamers that flashed like tiny rainbows in the colored lights. From the stage in the corner, a live band pumped out an energetic brand of boot-scootin’ boogie-woogie.

The crowd ranged from the casually dressed to the flamboyant, their energy filling the room. Laughter vied with the music as old friends called out greetings and swapped news. A camera flash drew Kate’s gaze to an area of the room that positively buzzed with excitement.

Oh my goodness,” she breathed as she saw who stood at the center of the beehive. “Is that Rachel Lee?”

Mike glanced toward the leggy brunette wearing a hint of a dress that made Kate’s outfit seem like a nun’s frock. “That would be her,” Mike confirmed. “Being her usual low-profile self, I see.”

“Is she in the movie?” Kate asked.

“The starring role, even if Kevin gets top billing,” Mike answered.

“Magic Man!” someone called from the buffet table.

Kate raised a brow. “Your nickname, I take it?”

“More of a job title, really.” He guided Kate toward the crowd of people hovering near the generous spread of Mexican food. “Frank,” he said, smiling as he extended his hand toward a short, dark-haired man. “Welcome to Texas.”

Frank juggled his plate of food to exchange handshakes. He had a soft white face and shrewd dark eyes. “I need to talk to you about a problem the animation team has run into. Maybe you could help them work out a bug in their program.”

“Sure. Tell them to call me tomorrow. In the meantime, let me introduce you to Kate Bradshaw. Kate, Frank Goldstein, the FX supervisor.”

“It’s good to meet you.” She shook his hand.

“Frank’s in charge of coordinating all the effects,” Mike explained. “From animation, makeup, and models, to special camera crews, and stunt teams, right down to the final film compositing to make sure we give the art department what they asked for.”

“Sounds fascinating,” Kate said, a little overwhelmed that anyone could pull off the things these people did for a living.

“Pain in the ass,” Frank said, mopping up some ranchero sauce with a flour tortilla. “You should try coordinating crews strung out halfway across the country. And then Cameron here, best damned animator in the business, turns traitor and joins the exodus from California to Texas. I’m asking ya, what’s so great about Texas, for God’s sake?”

“Is he complaining again?” a young woman asked as she joined them. She had a startling shade of burgundy-colored hair that perfectly matched the baggy lace dress she wore with combat boots. Though Kate thought her unattractive at first glance, she suspected a little makeup and some less frumpy clothes would go a long way—not to mention a more natural shade of hair. “I swear,” the woman said, “you should have heard him on the plane out here. Bitching up a storm ‘cause he couldn’t get a bagel.”

“Well, a man’s gotta eat,” Frank grumbled around a mouth full of tortilla.

“Frank’s a real sensitive, cultured kind of guy,” Mike winked at Kate. “Which is why we all love working for him.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Frank made a face, then waved his half-eaten tortilla between Mike and the woman. “I don’t think you two’ve met. Cameron, Traci Hovick. Traci, Cameron the Traitor.”

Kate watched Traci’s face light up. “No, we haven’t met. Not in person anyway. But gosh, I’ve admired your work since like forever.”

“Same here.” Mike shook Traci’s hand, then introduced her to Kate. “Traci does some really kick-ass makeup effects.”

“Horror flicks mostly,” Traci elaborated, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

“Sounds ... interesting,” Kate managed.

“Oh, its great! I get to cut people up and drench ‘em in blood. Of course I do monsters and aliens too, but mutilated bodies are my specialty. I get to do a really cool effect for this film in the final scene when an explosion burns the human skin off the robot that Cameron is creating.”

“I see,” Kate said, wondering why they needed a makeup artist for an animated robot.

“What about you?” Traci asked Kate.

“Hmm?” She blinked at the woman.

“Kate’s a writer,” Mike answered for her.

“Cool,” Traci said.

“Now, if you guys will excuse us”—he dropped his hand to the small of Kate’s back—“we haven’t even made it to the bar yet. And from the looks of this crowd, it may take a while to fight our way over there.” Drawing her near, he steered her through the milling throng.

 “You have ... unusual coworkers,” she said.

Mike laughed. “Yeah, ‘unusual’ is definitely one word for them.”

She realized that he had his arm halfway around her waist. The heat from his hand sent a shiver of pleasure over her skin. Before the heat could seep inward, she wiggled away. “Mike ... I’m not your date, remember?”

“Oh, sorry.” He found standing room for them at the bar and asked what she wanted to drink.

“White wine,” she answered. “Why did you tell them I was a writer?”

“Because you are.” Mike caught the bartender’s attention and ordered wine for her and gin and tonic for himself.

“Not in the sense they thought you meant,” she said. “You made it sound like I was a real writer, as in scripts or novels or something like that—not just an online advice columnist.”

“Kate.” Mike gave her an exasperated look as he handed her the wine. “I’ve read your work. Trust me, you are a real writer.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Exactly how much of my Web site did you read?”

He cringed playfully. “You mean before or after you caught me?”

“Mi-ike!” She couldn’t believe she actually stamped her foot.

“I don’t know what you’re so embarrassed about. It’s a great site.”

“It’s just—Oh, never mind.” She wasn’t sure why having him read her column embarrassed her either, except it made her feel exposed. “Besides, it’s not like I designed the site. Gwen has a whole team of people who take care of all that.”

“I was talking about the articles, not the site itself.”

“Oh.” A warm feeling blossomed in her chest at the thought that someone like Mike, someone who rubbed elbows with movie stars and Hollywood directors, would find her articles worthy of praise. “You really liked my column?”