“I’d love to, but can we do it tomorrow?” Molly said, unsurprised Kathleen remained skeptical about her—trust couldn’t come easy in this town. “I’d really like to send an e-mail off to a potential client in the next couple of hours,” she added so the other woman wouldn’t think she was blowing her off for no good reason.

Kathleen’s expression was odd for a second before she said, “Sure, I’m between films at the moment, so my time’s flexible. I’ll pick you up at one?”

“Sounds good.”

Conscious Kathleen would select a nice restaurant, Molly dressed with care the next day, choosing a slim black skirt that flattered her body and a pretty mint-green top. To her surprise, the actress took her to a park in what appeared to be a suburban neighborhood where everyone was too busy with their kids to worry about anyone else. “That guy makes the best burgers,” she said, pointing to a silver food truck parked in the shade of the palm trees on the street. “You game?”

“Sure.” Molly waited with the actress at a picnic table while Kathleen’s bodyguard went to buy the food, the line long enough that it’d be several minutes at least.

“Does the guard go with you everywhere public?” Molly realized she’d unintentionally stepped on a nerve when Kathleen’s expression went blank, shields slamming down. “Sorry,” she said at once. “I was just trying to break the awkward silence.”

Kathleen shrugged and thrust a hand through her hair. “It’s no secret. I have a disturbed and obsessed fan who thinks we’re married—the cops haven’t managed to catch the fucker, even after he broke into my house and left a disgusting piece of himself on my bed.”

Knowing exactly the toll stalking could take on a victim, Molly was horrified, then outraged. “At least you won’t have any problem with DNA evidence.”

Kathleen laughed, the frost thawing a fraction. “That’s just what Fox said.”

The bodyguard returned then. Leaving the food and bottles of water on the table, he walked off to stand by the car with the driver, their eyes scanning the picnic table and surrounding areas.

The scrutiny made Molly want to squirm. “Don’t you feel bad when they just stand there?”

 “Not at the wages I pay them.” The pragmatic words were followed by a small smile that might even have been real. “It’s okay—they’re professionals. I tried to get Butch to eat with me once, but he was mortified. How is he supposed to protect me if he’s stuffing his face? Casey, my driver, he’s a bodyguard, too, so he thinks the same.”

“I see their point.” Molly took a bite of the burger and moaned. “Oh my God, does Fox know about this truck?”

“Yes, I showed him.” Taking a bite of her own burger, Kathleen chewed and swallowed before saying, “Did you get that e-mail sent?”

“Yes.” Molly took a sip of water. “I got the project. It’s small, but it’s a start in the right direction.” Fox had opened a bottle of champagne to celebrate last night, his genuine happiness for and pride in her another arrow to Molly’s heart.

Kathleen was silent for a long while. Wary of exploding another conversational mine, Molly watched the mothers pushing their toddlers on the swings and found herself thinking how much Charlie would’ve enjoyed a lunch like this. She missed having her best friend nearby.

“You’re really real, aren’t you?”

Molly angled her head at the other woman. “I don’t understand.”

An incisive look. “The way you look at Fox, the way you touch him, you care about him.”

Befuddled by the statement of the obvious and a little annoyed at Kathleen’s continued questioning of her and Fox’s relationship, she said, “Why else would I follow him halfway across the world?”

“I didn’t mean to offend you.” Kathleen blew out a breath. “The thing is, in this business… let’s just say I’ve learned to be careful who I trust. Fox’s always been good at looking after himself, but then he turns up with you after a vacation.”

Molly kept her silence, giving Kathleen a chance to talk.

“It made me wonder what your angle was. Only I don’t think you have one.” The actress looked nonplussed. “Either that, or you’re a better actress than I’ll ever be.”

“Not a chance.” Putting down the uneaten part of her burger, Molly took another sip of water. “Fox is the only reason I’m here—he’s become my home,” she said simply. “I don’t need anything else.”

“I’m beginning to see that.” Kathleen rolled her own water bottle in her hands. “I should’ve twigged when Abe mentioned how the guys end up at your and Fox’s place more often than not for a jam session these days. They used to alternate between houses a lot more. Now he says it feels like your place is home.”

Molly had had no idea Abe felt that way, he said so little. “Thank you for telling me, and thank you for reaching out.”

“I did it to get some dirt so I could open Fox’s eyes about you.”

Molly laughed at the other woman’s disgruntled expression. “I know.”

“Shit.” Kathleen shoved her hand through her already tousled hair. “Now we have to be friends. You’re going to need me to teach you how to navigate these shark-infested waters.” She leaned forward. “Rule one—nice people get eaten alive.”

“Should I take notes?” Molly asked lightly, even as her stomach turned at the reminder she existed in a different world now, one run on rules she didn’t understand.

Kathleen smiled, and this time, it wasn’t as perfect, but was much more real. “Don’t worry. I’ve got the guidebook.” She held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Kit.”

Seven days after the tentative beginnings of her friendship with Kit, and Molly didn’t know what she was doing at a swanky New York party filled with tattooed rock stars other than her own, award-winning actors, actresses, and directors, “money people,” assorted plus-ones like Molly, and beautiful swimsuit models with boobs out to there and legs up to their ears.

“Stereotypes,” she muttered under her breath.

Fox leaned close. “What?”

“I’m reminding myself I shouldn’t judge anyone until I meet them.” She brushed a speck of dust off the shoulder of his black shirt with intricate black-on-black detailing along one side—which he’d worn in place of his usual tee because he’d overheard her talking to Charlotte about how men in suits were hot. She’d been teasing Charlie about T-Rex, but Fox had been adorably jealous.

When she’d pointed out how cute he was being, she’d ended up naked.

Now he was as gorgeous and as charismatic as usual, his version of a “suit”—the fitted short-sleeved shirt worn over a pair of well-loved jeans—unbelievably hot. In Fox’s case, she thought, the clothes very definitely didn’t make the man, the man made the clothes. “Though,” she added in a whisper, “it’s really, really difficult to accept that the twenty-five-year-old stunner is with the seventy-five-year-old lech out of true love.”

“What a cynic.” Fox’s lips curved, his hand sliding to her butt, possessive as hell. “A sexy cynic.”

Feeling her face heat, she tugged at his wrist, though his smile had melted her bones. “Fox.”

He kept his hand where it was, stroking her through the tight red pencil skirt he’d bought her, and which she had to agree made her body look smokin’. “I love it when you blush.”

“I’m going to kill you,” she threatened sotto voce as one of the besuited record executives came over. The man oozed oily sincerity, but for some reason, Molly liked him. Short and with a balding hairline, he reminded her of a friend of a friend—Ken was a sweet guy, but he wanted so badly to be liked that he went over the top with it.

Now Fox was noncommittal to the point of looking bored with this “Ken’s” conversational overtures. Molly did her best, but the man slunk away with a big fake smile a couple of minutes after he’d arrived. “Fox, that was rude.” It shocked her to see this side of him—the arrogant asshole star.