Summer

  “See? She’ll probably be a soccer player and prove the whole medical field wrong.”

  “She can kick. I’ll say that for her.” Landon wrapped his arms around Ashley again. “Thanks for coming back.”

  Ashley smiled, and together they returned to the kitchen. Devin had joined Cole. He was sitting on the floor beside his big brother, his Elmo doll on his lap. She stopped and held on to the image, her boys young and healthy.

  Cole lifted his eyes to them. He seemed to register that whatever might’ve been wrong, things were okay now. He grinned and gave his brother a wary look. “Devin thinks Elmo’s real.”

  Ashley linked her arm through Landon’s. In his eyes, all signs of doubt were gone. They would see a specialist, and they would do whatever was necessary to help their unborn daughter. But they would hang on to their hope, their beliefs that God would give them a miracle. And they would enjoy this pregnancy.

  Ashley looked back at Cole. “Elmo might not be real to you, but he’s real to Devin.” She put her free hand over her stomach. “Sometimes it makes us happy to think something. Even if the whole world thinks something else.”

  Dayne stood at the sink in his Malibu home and stared out the window at the Pacific Ocean. He had no reason to be upset. He and Katy had moved into the beach house, and for two entire days they’d escaped the glare of the press. Dressing in sweats and baseball caps, they took walks along the shore and came and left through the house’s private beach entrance.

  The first sign of photographers had come this morning. Two cars were parked outside on Pacific Coast Highway, and three guys sat together on the beach a dozen yards away from their private entrance to the sand. They had neither swim trunks nor beach towels, and each of them sat next to a big black camera bag. Paparazzi, of course.

  Dayne poured himself a glass of water and watched one of the guys look over his shoulder. “We’re not coming out,” he wanted to shout. But the guy wouldn’t hear him anyway. And if he opened the window, he’d only cause all three to aim their high-powered lenses straight at him. Dayne Matthews takes a drink of water! News at eleven!

  He turned around just as Katy came hurrying into the kitchen. A wisp of her blonde hair was pulled back on either side, making her look wide-eyed and innocent. Her hair was longer than it had been in a while. She wore jeans and a peach lace shirt over a longer white one. The combination made her look irresistible.

  She smiled at him. “You ready?”

  “Yeah.” He studied her. “You look pretty happy for someone about to face an onslaught.”

  “An onslaught?” She peered out the kitchen window. “Of blue skies and sunshine?” A laugh spilled from her. “I think I can handle it.”

  Dayne tried not to feel frustrated. “An onslaught of photographers.” He stood beside her and looked out. “They’ve found us.”

  She put her hands on his shoulders and turned him so he was facing her. “That’s part of the deal, remember? We promised we wouldn’t let it bring us down.” She lowered her chin, her eyes dancing. “Otherwise we should take the next flight home to Bloomington and forget the whole thing.”

  “Let’s go.” He looped his hands around her waist. “We can be in Indiana by dinner.”

  “Very funny.” Katy stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. Her voice softened. “Come on, Dayne. We’ve made a commitment. Let’s face it head-on and make the best of it.”

  He wanted more than anything to share her confidence, to believe that the adventure they were about to take would pacify the tabloids and bring the two of them closer than ever before. But his doubts were as vast as the blue water that made up his backyard. He brought his lips to hers and wished for the fifth time that the day were already behind them. He nuzzled his cheek against hers. “Thanks.”

  “For what?” Her voice was lighthearted and full of optimism.

  “For believing that we’re doing the right thing.” He took a long, exaggerated breath. “Maybe if I stay close to you I can catch your enthusiasm.”

  She tilted her head. “We’re doing the best we can. You have a contract to fulfill; having me in the movie with you takes away your concerns about doing love scenes with other actresses. Meeting today with the folks from For Real gives the press a legitimate way to capture us on camera.” She held up both hands and smiled. “Everything works out fine. End of story.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “I hope so.”

  Katy let her hands fall to her sides. Her eyes were still full of laughter, but she pretended to be exasperated. “Come on, grumpy. We have an appointment.”

  Dayne couldn’t help but smile. She had that effect on him. And she was right about every aspect of why they were taking the course ahead of them. Today was the big meeting with the producers of For Real, a chance to find out exactly what they’d gotten themselves into by agreeing to the reality show.

  Katy led the way toward the garage door, with Dayne a few feet behind. But before they reached it, he stopped. “Katy.”

  She turned around.

  “Let’s pray first.” Dayne felt a sense of peace with even the mention of prayer. Last night he’d talked to his missionary friend Bob Asher. Bob had warned him that there was no way to take on the things that Dayne and Katy were about to take on without constant, fervent prayer. Yet all morning Dayne had done nothing but worry about the paparazzi, wishing them away from his home and dreading what was coming.

  Katy held out her hands. “Good idea.”

  “Yeah.” He made a face. “I should’ve thought of it before.” He took hold of her fingers and closed his eyes. The anxiety he’d wrestled with all morning crept back into the shadows. “God, we’re not really sure what we’re getting ourselves into. But You know our reasons, our motives.” He still didn’t feel altogether confident when he prayed. The words weren’t pretty and eloquent like when Katy talked to God. But he meant every word. He gritted his teeth. “What I’m trying to say is, God . . . please protect us. Help us grow closer in the coming months, and don’t let anything get between us. Not ever. Help me to have the joy that Katy has, since You tell us to be joyful. Thanks, God. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  When he opened his eyes, Katy was staring at him. Her eyes shone from a private place inside her, one only he was allowed to see. “That’s exactly what we needed.”

  He glanced out the window. There were four cars now, and he gathered his determination. “We’ll need it often.”

  They went to the garage, climbed into his BMW, and popped the garage door. “Here we go.” Dayne looked over his shoulder and started to back out. As he did, three cameramen jumped in his way. He was tempted to rev his engine, give them a scare.

  But Katy put her hand on his. “Take it slow.” She sounded calm, confident.

  When his car was completely out of the garage and the photographers had backed up enough so he could lower his garage door, Katy opened her window.

  The paparazzi sensed a photo opportunity, and they hurried out of the driveway and onto the small piece of grass that made up Dayne’s yard.

  Katy smiled and waved at them. “Go on, Dayne,” she said through her smile. “They’re out of the way.”

  The men raised their cameras and began rapid-fire shooting, moving in as close as they could to the car without getting their toes run over.

  “Katy, how long are you back in Los Angeles?”

  “How’s married life?”

  “Is it true you’ll be starring in a movie with Dayne, and what can you tell us about it?”

  Dayne focused on the traffic on PCH. With Katy distracting the press, he was able to look for an opening and back out when the highway was clear.

  The entire time, Katy laughed and smiled, never giving them anything but a happy picture of the two of them. “Everything’s fantastic!” she told them. “And, yes, I’ll be in the movie with Dayne.”

  For her benefit, Dayne kept his expression pleasant. But once he slammed the car into drive and took off, he turned angry eyes toward her. ?
??What was that?”

  Shock and hurt filled Katy’s face. “I was helping you get out of there.”

  “They don’t need to know about the movie.” He glared at the road ahead of him. “Not yet, anyway.”

  “If they don’t know, they’ll hunt us down until they find out.” Her voice was louder than before, indignant. “I thought that was the plan, Dayne. Give them what they want so they don’t have a reason to chase us.”

  Dayne looked in his rearview mirror. All four cars were in hot pursuit behind them. “Take a look, Katy.”

  She glanced over her shoulder, then slumped in her seat. “Okay, so they’re not used to the idea yet. Even so, we don’t have to run or race through traffic.” She tossed her hands. “So what if they chase us? They can come up behind us and on either side if they want to. They can take a thousand pictures of us driving on PCH. Big deal.”

  “It is a big deal.” Dayne felt a layer of sweat on his forehead and upper lip. This was the same road where they’d chased him and Randi Wells, the same highway where he’d nearly been killed. “I can drive the speed limit and stay in my lane, but that doesn’t mean they won’t cause an accident.” He was shouting, and he made an effort to lower his voice. “Can’t you understand that?”

  Katy was quiet. She turned her attention to the road. After a while she looked over her shoulder again and spoke in a voice that was calmer than before. “It’s dangerous for them, too. This chasing routine.” She looked at him. “I have to believe that eventually—if we give them the smiling photos and we answer their questions—they’ll stop chasing.”

  Dayne was driving with one hand. He looked in his rearview mirror one more time. “Good luck.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he was hit with regret. If he was letting the press get to him already, how were they ever going to make it through the movie? He gave her a sheepish look. “I sounded like a jerk just then.”

  Her expression softened. “I was going to say so.”

  The rest of the drive, Dayne tried not to notice the cars chasing them, the photographers snapping photos of the back of his car at every stoplight. Katy was right. Let them take a thousand pictures. Rags didn’t run photos of the backs of celebrities’ cars. It was a waste of their time, and maybe they really would grow tired of the chase. Dayne and Katy had banked their next few months on the possibility.

  The offices for the producers of For Real were in Santa Monica on the Third Street Promenade—a renovated section of town with lots of movie industry office suites. They parked out front, and the paparazzi screeched to a halt. One of the drivers pulled a U-turn and grabbed a spot across the street, and the other three found legal and illegal parking spots not far from Dayne’s car.

  Dayne opened Katy’s door for her, and as they headed through the front doors of the building, he heard one of the photographers shouting at the others, “I told you! They’re working with For Real!”

  Once they were inside and on the elevator, Katy gave Dayne a lopsided grin. “See? Now that they know we’re working with a reality show, they’ll have lots of opportunities.”

  “And you really think that’ll dim their interest?”

  “No.” Katy seemed to be careful with her response. “But it should take away their need to chase us.”

  “We’ll see.” They stepped off the elevator and walked through a door down the hall that took them into the offices of For Real.

  A receptionist blushed beet red. “Uh, hello, Mr. Matthews.” She looked at Katy. “Ms. Hart. I’ll let them know you’re here.” She disappeared down a hallway, the click of her heels filling the office space.

  Dayne made a funny face. “Ms. Hart, huh?” For the sake of the movie, Katy was still going by her maiden name. It was a decision made by the film’s director and producers. Having a different name from Dayne would give Katy her own identity. He gave her a grin, trying to ease the tension he was still feeling. “As long as you’re Katy Matthews back in Indiana.”

  She pressed her fingers to her heart. “I’m Katy Matthews in here, where it matters. Whether I’m in Bloomington or Los Angeles.”

  Before he had time to respond, two men appeared in slick Hollywood attire—tight black shirts and jeans. Each had neatly styled hair. One wore a pair of diamond stud earrings, and the other had small silver hoops. Both grinned and welcomed them.

  Once they were situated in the office, the man with the hoop earrings took the lead. His name was Hans something, and he had an accent Dayne couldn’t identify. “Let’s start with some background information.” He nodded to his partner and then looked at Dayne. “For each episode, we’ll include as much backstory information as possible.”

  “Right, and we understand you were adopted and you’ve reconnected with your birth family.” Ken, the one with diamond stud earrings, crossed his legs and moved his hands in front of him. “That’s simply a fabulous detail for the show.” He had a pad of paper and a pen. “Go ahead and give me the names and phone numbers of—I don’t know—let’s say at least three of your family members. The ones you’ve found.”

  Katy sucked in a quick breath, but before she could say anything, Dayne sat up straight in his chair. “There won’t be any information about my birth family. None at all.”

  The faces of the men across from him went blank. Ken uttered a quick laugh. “You’re kidding, right?”

  Dayne pictured his family and thought about the latest Baxter information, the details about the possible trouble with Ashley’s pregnancy. He had to resist the urge to grab the guys by their collars.

  Katy gave him a look, begging him not to lose control.

  Deep breaths, Dayne told himself. Deep breaths. He tried to sound casual. “The contract we signed gives you and the photographers associated with your company permission to film and shoot us during the movie only. The subject—according to the contract—is our married life and the logistics of honeymooners filming a movie together.” He paused and settled back into his seat. “Period.”

  “Right.” Hans gave a nervous laugh. “But the audience will want more than that.”

  Dayne stood. “Well, gentlemen, if our deal goes beyond the scope of our contract—” he reached for Katy’s hand—“then I guess we have nothing else to talk about.”

  “Wait!” Ken was on his feet too. “Sit down, Mr. Matthews. If you’re not comfortable discussing your birth family—” he gave a severe look to his partner—“then we won’t talk about that.”

  Hans smoothed the wrinkles in his shirt. “I will say, though, that as long as you’re Dayne Matthews, people will be digging. If you don’t want to talk about your birth family, I’m sure there are plenty of people in Indiana who will.”

  Dayne gritted his teeth. Of course they knew what state his birth family lived in—the story had been in the press. But it still made him angry that they would bring it up now. “We’ll stick to the contract or we’ll walk.”

  “Very good.” Ken smiled. He looked highly nervous, as if later he might give his partner a long lecture for nearly losing the deal with Dayne Matthews.

  Half an hour later, Dayne and Katy had given Hans and Ken the details about their wedding—how they’d been able to pull off a secret ceremony—and the honeymoon they’d been on ever since.

  The men took copious notes, nodding and smiling and making dramatic gestures when the story seemed almost too good to be true.

  When Dayne was satisfied that the men had all the information they needed, the four of them shook hands, and Dayne led Katy to the car.

  In the elevator, he fell against the back wall and groaned. “This is going to be a nightmare. I can feel it.”

  “Dayne . . .” Katy’s tone begged him to have a better attitude.

  “Did you hear them?” He stood straighter. “They’re already looking for dirt, and we haven’t even started.”

  “What dirt?” She clasped her hands, and she looked prettier than she had all day. “They won’t talk about your family. You already told them you
’ll pull the plug on the show the moment they do.”

  “So they’ll have their photographers working on it in the background. They might not break the news on the show, but they’ll break it one way or another. The story of Ashley’s pregnancy, my dad’s relationship with Elaine . . . something.”

  “Dayne, come on.” She took a step closer, just as the elevator door opened.

  They walked out, and Dayne stopped near the tinted glass and peered through. The paparazzi cars weren’t where they had been. “They’re really gone?”

  “See!” Katy smiled and took his hand. She opened the door and led the way to his car. No one jumped out and took their picture; no cars screeched up with the drivers spouting questions at them.

  Once they were on their way back to the Malibu house, Katy gave him a knowing look. “Didn’t you say a lot of the photographers work for the same company that produces For Real?”

  “Yes.” Dayne had been certain the photographers would be outside waiting for them. So maybe the plan might work after all.

  They stopped at a market in Malibu and bought salmon and wild rice for dinner. Not once the rest of the day did they talk about the press. Instead they dreamed about the movie and how they would bring their characters to life.

  Before they turned in for the night, Dayne opened the patio door and let the ocean breeze fill the room. “I feel a lot better.” He climbed into bed beside Katy and lay on his side, facing her. “Sorry about earlier.”

  The moon shone in through the open door and made Katy’s eyes sparkle. She eased closer to him. “That’s what the nights are for.” She turned onto her side and kissed him. “So we can forget about whatever trouble the day might’ve turned up.”

  Dayne loved her, loved being married to her. She was everything he’d ever hoped to find, and nothing—not a movie and not the press—was ever going to come between them.

  But that night as he slept, he was restless. Sometime before sunrise he had the sense that he was outside on the beach with Katy. It was the middle of the night and there wasn’t a light in the sky, not the moon or stars, nothing.