She had a pretty good idea why Dayne was at the studio today. The magazines said he was trying to find a leading lady for his next movie. Of course, no one would be better to star opposite Dayne Matthews than her. She’d been an extra in three movies so far, and each time she proved herself a better actress.
“I’m right here, Dayne.” She rolled down the window halfway and whispered the words into the still summer air. “The woman you’re looking for is right here.”
“You’re delusional, Chloe. You’ve never acted a day in your life.”
Chloe rolled the window back up and gritted her teeth. Anna was going to drive her mad. This time she pulled her knife from her pocket and whirled around in her seat. “I told you to—”
Anna was gone. She wasn’t sitting behind her any longer. “Over here, stupid.” The voice was harsh and critical.
Chloe jerked back against the car door as she spotted Anna. She was in the seat beside her now. Anna was tricky that way. “I told you to shut up!” Chloe narrowed her eyes and held the knife up near her shoulder, poised, ready to attack if necessary. “I don’t want to hurt you, Anna, but I will. I promise I will.” Her hand was shaking now, drips of sweat trickling down the sides of her face. “Shut up!”
Anna gave a disgusted look and then turned and faced her window.
Chloe brought the knife down slowly. “That’s right—keep looking out the window.” She eased the knife back into her pocket. “Don’t push me, Anna. I’ve used this before, you know. No one found out about it then, and no one will this time.”
Another drop of sweat fell off her face. What was the problem? Why was it so hot in here? She looked around the perimeter of the car and realized every window was closed. On a summer day she almost had to open the windows. Even if that meant Dayne could hear her beating heart or her murderous threats to Anna.
The windows were the kind you opened by hand, nothing fancy, not for Chloe. Oh, sure, Anna had lived the fancy life once a long time ago. But not Chloe. Her fancy days were ahead of her, once Dayne claimed her as his wife. Then she’d have automatic windows.
She opened her window halfway and barked at Anna to do the same thing. Anna made a grunting sound, but she did what Chloe said. If Anna knew what was good for her, she’d always do what Chloe said. After all, Chloe had the knife.
Cooler air filled the car, and Chloe wiped the moisture off her forehead. That’s what she needed. Open windows. She stared at the studio entrance. What had she been thinking about? She waited a beat, and then it came to her.
Dayne’s search for a leading lady.
Just then a car pulled into the parking lot, one Chloe would’ve recognized anywhere. It was a silver Mercedes—Kelly Parker’s car. Chloe heard a hissing sound, and for a moment she wondered if she had a leak in one of her tires. She looked at Anna and felt her anger building again. Anna was laughing at her, laughing at the idea of Kelly Parker trying out for the part in Dayne’s movie.
“Shut up!”
The hissing stopped.
Chloe leaned her head out the window and yelled, “Not her, Dayne!” He had to hear her. She was so loud she could barely concentrate. “Not Kelly Parker!”
Chloe rattled off a string of expletives. She should’ve taken care of Kelly while she had the chance. That way Dayne would’ve asked her to come read for the part—not some floozy phony like Kelly Parker.
Five minutes later the police showed up. As they moved in behind her Honda, Anna came to life again. She turned and faced Chloe, pointing at her and laughing her most evil laugh. “You idiot, now look what you’ve done.”
Chloe’s heartbeat skipped around erratically. She couldn’t kill Anna, not with the police behind her. With a flick of her wrist she pulled the knife from her pocket and tossed it onto the floorboard. Then she glanced at the rearview mirror and saw there were two officers. Both were getting out of the car.
“Don’t say a word, Anna.” Chloe spat the words at her sister, and then quickly, before the officers could see, she slapped Anna hard across the face. “Get lost!”
“No.” Anna leaned closer. “This is all Kelly Parker’s fault. Kill her, not me.”
There was the sound of footsteps beside her car door. She turned and smiled at the men. “Hello, Officers. Can I help you?”
One of the men kept his hand on his revolver. The other stepped forward. “Hi.” He nodded toward the studio. “We got a call from the studio that someone was parked here. Paparazzi, maybe.” He looked around the inside of her car. “You got any cameras?”
“No, sir.” Knives, yes. Cameras, no. She put her fingers to her chest. “You think the call was about me?”
“Was there a reason why you slapped yourself as we pulled up? A bug maybe?”
“Right.” Chloe’s mind raced. She hadn’t slapped herself. Anna was the one she’d slapped. “Yes, Officer, a mosquito.”
“Quite a mark you’ve got on your face.”
“Yes.” She laughed. “But no mosquito bite.”
The officer stared hard at her. He didn’t believe her; that much was written across his face. “Well, ma’am, this is a no-parking area.” He crossed his arms. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re parked here.”
“Research.” The answer came without warning. Chloe scrambled for a better explanation. “My sister’s writing a book about the studio.” She tried to look serious. “I’m doing research for her.”
He barely paused. “I see. Could I take a look at your driver’s license?”
Why were they always wanting that? Chloe thought about grabbing the knife from the floorboard and waving it at the men. That’d make them back off. She looked at the seat beside her.
It was empty. Anna was gone. Typical. She never stayed around for the harder moments.
Finally she gave the officer the sweetest smile she could muster. “I’m afraid I left it at home.”
“You know it’s against the law to drive without a license?” The man whipped a small pad of paper from his back pocket. “I could haul you in for this, ma’am. Instead, I’ll write you a ticket and ask you to leave. If anyone from the studio sees you parked out here again, we’ll be back.”
The second officer shifted his weight. “We take studio security very seriously. You should tell your sister that any research needs to be done through the studio’s publicity office.”
Chloe nodded. “I’ll do that.”
“Okay—” the first officer had his pen poised over the ticket pad—“I need your name.”
“Chloe Madden.”
The officer nodded. “Date of birth?”
“December 19, 1960.”
“Forty-three years old, is that right?”
Forty-three? “Yes, sir.”
He walked to the back of her car and scribbled something onto the ticket—her license-plate number probably. The whole time, the second officer stared at her. She could feel him doubting her, doubting everything about her story.
The first officer returned to the window and tore a white slip of paper from the pad. “You have ten days to show proof of a valid license at the courthouse. The address is on the back, along with a phone number.” He gave her a concerned look. “Get it taken care of, and get out of here. Understood?”
She gritted her teeth but just for a few seconds. Her smile was back in place almost instantly. “Understood.” She gave a nod and a pleasant wave.
The officers returned to their car, but they made no sign of leaving. Chloe groaned. They were waiting for her to go first. She turned the key in the ignition and cursed under her breath. Fine. She would leave, but she’d be back. She’d just have to be more careful next time.
These run-ins with the police had to stop. It was time to do something about all this, time to confront Dayne and order him to come home where he belonged. If anyone tried to stop her—Kelly Parker or some other floozy—Chloe would simply use her knife and do away with her.
She’d used the knife before, without ever getting caught. Sh
e was good at hiding details, very good. A surge of excitement ran through her veins and made her pulse quicken. Using the knife again wouldn’t be a problem at all.
It would be a thrill.
Dayne was standing next to Mitch Henry when Kelly Parker entered the audition area.
The room was oversize, with a warehouse feel—a typical studio soundstage. Half of it was dimly lit, and the other half was raised a few feet, flooded with lights that hung from the black rafters at every angle. The lit area had been set up to look like a sidewalk that led to a few steps, a small porch, and a faux door—meant to duplicate the entry to the female lead’s Manhattan apartment.
The point of the scene was to show on-screen chemistry between Dayne and whoever starred opposite him in Dream On.
“Okay, Kelly, thanks for coming.” Mitch looked up from his clipboard. “You understand what’s happening in the scene?”
“The male lead’s walking me home at the end of my first week on the job. We come to my apartment door, where we tease and flirt some, and he kisses me.” She looked at Dayne, and her eyes spoke volumes. “For a minute I’m tempted to ask him inside, but then I catch myself and remember who I am, my upbringing.”
“Very good.” Mitch looked impressed. “You’ve done your homework.”
“Of course.”
Dayne kept his eyes on her. She was striking, no question. A little too thin, but striking. In her dark jeans and tight white T-shirt she oozed sex appeal. He could feel himself responding to her, and they hadn’t even started the scene yet. It was easy to see why the camera loved her, why she’d become such a hot property in Hollywood.
But none of that mattered.
All he could think about was Katy Hart and the fact that he’d see her again in less than an hour. It wasn’t fair to Kelly, really. But she’d asked for the audition. He’d only agreed because of their friendship. That and the remote possibility that Katy might not work out, or worse, that she would refuse the part for some reason.
“All right, let’s get started.” Mitch clapped twice. “Dayne and Kelly, take your spots.”
“You want us starting stage left, walking a few steps, and then up the stairs to the porch, right?” Kelly pointed to the far side of the stage.
“Exactly.” Mitch walked alongside Dayne and took his spot near the cameraman. “Let’s see what you’ve got, Kelly.”
“Dayne already knows what I’ve got.” She looked over her shoulder, her brow raised.
“Yes.” Mitch shot a disapproving look at Dayne. “I’m sure he does.”
Dayne ignored the comment. He caught up with Kelly, slipped his hand in hers, and leaned close. “Enough, okay? Mitch is looking for innocent country girl, not sexy siren.”
She leveled her famous eyes at him. “I can do innocent.” She smiled. “Just watch me.”
They weren’t quite to the stage yet. “You doing okay? The paparazzi?”
Her eyes darkened. “I’m trying my best. I haven’t read a gossip rag since we talked last.”
“Good.” He took the few steps up to the stage and led her to a place next to him. “You know the lines?”
“Dayne . . . do you have to ask?”
They ran through the scene without missing a beat. Kelly was right—she knew her lines and tried her best to be convincing at the whole innocent thing. When it came time for the kiss, Dayne slid his hand up along the side of her face and put his lips to hers. She responded in a way that was as natural as breathing.
Chemistry wasn’t a problem when it came to Kelly Parker.
The scene was finished in less than five minutes, and from the shadows Mitch yelled, “Okay, that’ll do it.”
Dayne still had his arm around Kelly’s waist, and he pulled her close, his lips inches from hers. She smelled of something spicy and exotic, and for a moment he forgot where he was or that Katy Hart would be there in half an hour. “You’re good, girl.”
“Thank you, sir.” She brushed his lips with hers. “You too.”
Mitch coughed. “Like I said, that’ll do.”
Dayne squeezed Kelly’s waist once more. “Thanks for coming.”
“I want the part, Dayne.”
“I know.” Images of Katy flashed in his mind. “We’ll see what happens.”
They held hands as they left the stage and headed for Mitch. He met them halfway and smiled big at Kelly. “That was fantastic. We’ll get back to you as soon as we know something.”
She thanked him, and Dayne walked her to the studio door. Before she left, she looked into his eyes. “Come by tonight?”
“Not tonight.” He kissed her forehead and hugged her. “I have plans.” He didn’t, but he hoped he would. Never mind his first thought that he and Katy shouldn’t be seen together. Katy didn’t know anyone else. The paparazzi wouldn’t bother them, not if they were in her rental car.
“So . . .” Kelly looked around the dark edges of the room. “Is Miss Newcomer here yet?”
Dayne chuckled. “No. Not for a while.”
“Too bad.” She stepped back and pouted. “I wanted to see my competition.”
It wasn’t until Kelly said good-bye one more time and took off across the studio lot that Dayne thought twice about her comment. She must’ve meant competition for the part. But the way she’d looked at him made him wonder. Was he really that transparent? Could she tell that he’d been in a hurry all morning to get through her audition and move on to Katy’s? that he’d been looking forward to seeing her again since the moment she’d left?
If so, then he needed to be careful. Otherwise it would be obvious to Katy too. She wouldn’t be impressed that Dayne Matthews couldn’t stop thinking about her. He had the feeling she didn’t care much for Hollywood or glamour or any of the trappings of his life.
It was why she had stopped going to auditions; at least that was the way he read it. No, Katy Hart wouldn’t be excited if she knew what he was feeling for her.
She’d probably run for her life.
Katy didn’t know about the kiss until she arrived at the studio.
She should’ve expected it; the movie was a love story, and the entire point of coming back for a second audition with Dayne was obviously to see how they related to each other on camera. But when Mitch led her to a small room and told her she had fifteen minutes to study the scene, he said nothing about the kiss.
It wasn’t until she read through it and got to the end that she realized what was about to happen. In front of Mitch Henry, a cameraman, and whichever other executives from the studio happened to be around, she was about to do an onstage kissing scene with Dayne Matthews.
Rhonda’s comment from two days earlier came back again: “You heard it here first.” Katy dismissed the idea, put it far from her mind. She had lines to memorize. The audition was just that—a chance to act in a movie. Something Katy had dreamed of doing all those years through high school and college, and now she had the chance.
Alone in her hotel room last night, she’d prayed about the opportunity. If it was from God, a way to get into acting long after the loss of Tad Thompson, then she asked Him to give her the part. But if not, if this would take her away from the kids at CKT forever or if it would change her somehow, then she asked for something else.
That God would get her out of Hollywood on the first airplane.
Time and again as she prayed about this day, this moment, she’d asked God for wisdom. And always she felt the same answer: Wait. Be patient and wait on the Lord. That was fine with Katy. It meant she didn’t have to have all the answers today. She could do the audition, see if they offered her the part, and then talk it over with Rhonda and the Flanigans, who had been out Sunday night so she had no chance to tell the truth about her flights to California.
Wisdom would come one way or another.
She focused on the lines before her. There weren’t many, really. Some casual banter about work while they walked toward her front door, then a few awkward lines on the step, and finally his
move to kiss her. Her response was supposed to be surprised and then taken. So taken that she considered inviting him in before remembering who she was and what she stood for. The small-town values she was raised with.
Katy had the lines memorized in five minutes. The rest of the time, she pictured the character, the way she might feel—overwhelmed in the big city, walking alongside a handsome colleague, feeling a chemistry with him. If it were her, she’d feel shy and excited and nervous all at the same time.
She checked her look as best she could without a mirror. She had on black dress pants, a fitted tan blouse, and low black heels. She wore her long blonde hair in a simple ponytail. She went over the lines once more, and then Mitch knocked on the door. “We’re ready for you, Katy.” He gave her a kind smile. “Do you need more time?”
“No, sir.” Her heart skipped a beat. This was it; she was really about to audition with Dayne for the female lead in a film that was bigger than anything she’d ever done or read for. She drew a deep breath and stood up. “I’m ready.”
They walked together to the soundstage. With each step, Katy reminded herself to breathe, to be calm and feel relaxed and not make more out of the audition than it was. She was an actress—at least she used to be. Auditions had once been commonplace for her.
But all those thoughts fled when she walked through the door and saw Dayne. He was sitting in a chair, one leg crossed over the other, reading something. The script, maybe. He had a pencil tucked behind his ear, and for the first time she didn’t see him as a famous actor.
She saw him as a friend, someone she was familiar with.
The moment they walked in, he took the pencil and stack of papers and set them on a nearby table. Then he came to meet them. “Katy.” He held out his hand and shook hers. “Thanks for coming. I know all this travel’s been sort of hectic for you.”
“No, it’s fine.” Her cheeks felt hot, and she was glad for the shadows. “Thanks for asking me.”
Dayne slipped his hands in his pockets, and he looked ten years younger than he was. “Did you get the script?”