Her heart thumped. “Who?”

Cutter’s hand tightened until it hurt against her arm, and his face flushed. “Harlon Ramonannini.”

Ashley shook loose. “No.”

“Yes!” Cutter moaned. “He’s going to see. He’s going to know I recut his wedding dress.” Cutter crossed his arms over his chest.

Ah. Ashley realized the reason for Cutter’s panic—the bridal gown flounce alteration. “You made the dress drape better.” She gentled her tone to reassure him.

Desperation flashed in his eyes, and Cutter’s voice took on a hysterical edge. “You know nothing,” he said and dashed away.

If the yells of the fans were any indication, more stars had arrived. Things were heating up on the red carpet, so she knew it was time to make her way inside. She wanted to see Caz more than anything, but she also didn’t want to see him. Maybe she’d catch him inside, and they could share a quiet, civil moment away from the commotion. Dad said that the movie premiere’s auditorium sat about a thousand people. In that large a crowd, she may not even see the back of his head. Had Caz brought a date? Would he—?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a hand on her arm and a heavy accent. “Score.”

“Excuse me?” Ashley pulled free of Garrett’s hold.

“I told Caz I’d find you.” Garrett tilted his head at a confident angle. His shorter hair stopped inches from the collar of his tuxedo jacket. Under it, he wore an off-white shirt untucked over his blue kilt. “He’s looking all over the place for you.”

“You’re talking to Caz?”

Garrett grinned big. “Yeah, we’re great mates again.” He threw an arm around her shoulders, keeping her in place, close enough that the wool fabric of his kilt brushed her fingers. “Caz called in his marker and I’m about to deliver.” Using the pressure of his big arm against her shoulders, Garrett turned her back into the crowd.

They made up? Good. Ashley tried to duck under his heavy arm. “I’m just going inside.”

His arm didn’t move. “Nope, I owe him, and there he is.” Garrett pointed with his free hand. Looking over, Ashley saw a dark-suited Caz shaking hands and signing autographs with the fans behind the rope. He looked wonderful, his hair slightly longer, streaked. A security guard with an earpiece flanked him, and his thin agent, dressed in a dark pantsuit, trailed close by.

Garrett forced her straight toward Caz with no intention of stopping. “Come on, then, before he goes mental.”

Ashley stumbled in her tall, strappy heels. “Slow down. He’s working, we can’t—”

Garrett lowered his arm to her waist, ignored her protests, and propelled her forward until she stood within a foot of Caz.

Shouts of “Caspian” came from the crowd. It was deafening, like the day they first met, but even louder.

“Here she is, mate.” Garrett clamped a hand on Caz’s shoulder. His arm dropped from her waist. Caz turned at the touch and he faced her. His blue-green eyes searched hers.

Garrett said, “I’ll leave you to it, then. I want to do my duty and get inside before all the finger foods disappear. I hear they have puff pastries with crab and capers.” He swaggered to the roped-off fans.

The lights hit her eyes and she blinked against the white spots. She dug in her purse for her sunglasses and shoved them on. The camera flashes intensified now that she was this close to Caz. This was too much. It was time to head for the entrance.

Caz stepped close and grabbed her hand. The crowd continued its chanting roar. “Caspian!”

Ashley quickly pulled free of his grip.

“Wait.”

Ashley couldn’t really hear the word but she read it on his lips. “Inside,” she said. “I’ll see you inside.”

His agent gestured toward a dais set up for interviews.

Caz shook his head at her. “Just a minute.”

Ashley looked over her shoulder toward the premiere entrance.

Caz put his mouth against her ear and kind of yelled, “Please wait. I’m talking to Garrett, did you see?”

Be gracious and distant, she told herself. Stay out of his personal life. She’d practiced the words at home and on the plane a number of times. She was going to say that he looked great and wish him luck on the film. Putting her mouth to his ear, Ashley said instead, “I’m glad.” She breathed in the fragrance of his ocean shower gel, and calmed. “No, sorry, um, I meant good luck on the film. It’s good to see you again. I’ll catch you later.”

His agent moved in. “You’re scheduled to—”

“A minute,” Caz said urgently.

His agent touched Caz’s elbow. “She can stay with us, but we have to move forward.”

Caz shook his head and folded his arm, staying put.

His agent turned to Ashley. “Nice to see you again, Ashley, but you’re causing a delay.” Her tone didn’t sound like it was nice to see her again.

Familiar with Caz’s stubborn streak, Ashley said, “Sure, which way?” She nodded toward the agent, indicating she should lead.

Caz clenched his hands and followed them. Two paces in, he unclenched one and reached for her hand. Ashley stayed out of his reach. He moved closer until they reached the steps that led up to a platform.

Petra stood on top, being interviewed. She wore a fuchsia-colored dress, and a matching, jeweled hairclip that held back half of her dark hair. Swiveling her hips, she swept her train into one hand and held the skirts toward the reporter. If looks were anything to go by, the interviewer was getting a rundown about each thread.

An assistant wearing an earpiece held up a hand in Caz’s direction.

“Promise me you’ll wait,” Caz said.

Ashley looked around. A lot of people were headed for the auditorium. “Um.”

“You have to promise me, or I walk out, and leave with you now.”

Sometimes he could be very British and understated. That was how he gave the illusion that he was normal—not tonight though. He’d had weeks to call her, and he wanted to talk while they were on the red carpet with a million eyes and cameras on them.

“Promise me,” Caz said.

“I promise.”

Caz lifted her sunglasses to look in her eyes.

“I promise. Go.”

Caz put a warm hand to the side of her face and whispered in her ear. “I hoped you’d be here.”

“They’re ready for you, Mr. Thaymore.”

Caz’s hand slowly fell from Ashley’s cheek and he jogged up the steps to join Petra and the interviewer. Petra hooked her arm through his.

The crowd chanted, “CasPet, CasPet.” Petra waved to the crowd.

Caz didn’t turn. He faced the reporter and spoke into a microphone, and it was only a few minutes before he jogged back down to her. Petra remained on the platform, still talking.

Caz took her hand in his. “Okay, then, let’s get inside.”

Ashley tugged against his hold, but he wouldn’t release her. The more the cameras flashed, the more she pulled, a smile pasted on her lips to keep up impressions. Realizing he wasn’t going to let go, Ashley stopped the struggle and said through her smile, “What are you doing?” She hoped he could hear her over the crowd.

Caz leaned closer. “I can demonstrate better if you want.” He tilted his head.

Her heart thumped and Ashley jerked quickly back. “No. Inside.”

Someone pushed in from behind her, propelling her into Caz’s hard body. Caz stopped her fall.

“Excuse me.” The redheaded Lorene pushed past them dressed in a green hoop-skirted dress, à la Scarlett O’Hara, and climbed the steps. When she reached the top, she put her hands on her hips.

Petra finished answering her interview question before facing Lorene.

Lorene shouted, “You stole my part.” The words were loud enough that anyone below the dais could hear.

Petra touched her fingertips to her chest, in a who megesture. Lorene narrowed in.

The security guard left Caz’s side and took the steps two at a time. Lorene pushed Petra. Petra hit the rail and the metal framework shook. After pausing in a carefully draped pose, Petra lunged forward and shoved back. The camera moved in for a close-up.