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  “Meaning . . . ?” He slid one foot up the wall behind him, bent forward, and dug his elbow into his knee.

  “Meaning it’s my choice. I’m four months pregnant, but I could fix that in an afternoon.”

  Abortion. Kelly was talking about getting rid of the baby, and in a rush of memories he could hear his adoptive parents talking to a group of adults. His mother was saying, “Of all the gifts God has given us, life is the most precious of all. Life at any stage, any season, very young or very old, healthy or sick. Life is God’s to give, God’s to take.”

  And his father was pulling him aside and giving him “the talk,” saying, “Abstinence is God’s way, but it’s also the only way because once a girl gets pregnant you’re a father. No matter what happens after that, you’re a father.”

  “Dayne!” Kelly was jumpy, her words short and heavy with frustration. “Did you hear what I said?”

  “No . . . Kelly, you can’t.” He felt sick, and the room swayed. Wasn’t that the easy answer, what so many in their situation would do? Get an abortion? Eliminate the evidence? But it was all happening too fast. He rubbed his fingers into his brow. “I need time to think.”

  “You’re not listening, Dayne.” Kelly sounded more composed. There was noise in the background, probably from the shoot. She was working on a new film, one that starred two other A-list actresses and some unknown new guy. She drew a steady breath. “I want to keep the baby. But I’m not raising a child by myself.”

  What was she saying? He straightened and stared at the ceiling. “Kelly, you’re living with Hawk. How does he feel about this?”

  “I’m back at my own house now.” Her voice fell. “He knows about the baby. We talked last night.” She hesitated. “He thinks you and I should give it another try.”

  “Okay.” Dayne paced to the other side of the small room. Was this his life they were talking about? Had Kelly and Hawk come to conclusions that would basically decide the course of his future? But if a baby was involved and if Kelly was willing to keep it, what choice did he have? His own actions had decided the course of his future. “Is . . . is that what you want?”

  “Dayne—” she groaned—“I don’t know what I want. You’re one of my closest friends and for a while there I thought . . .”

  She didn’t have to finish her sentence. He had thought so too. That if he couldn’t have Katy Hart, he might as well have Kelly. She was an actress, someone who would understand his crazy life and all it came with. Because it was her life too. But after spending a few weeks in the fall in Bloomington, after seeing Katy and feeling the way his heart responded every time she was near, he had known.

  He could never settle for Kelly Parker.

  Not when the real thing was out there. Even if his world and Katy Hart’s were so different they never found a way to be together, he could never settle for less than what he’d felt with her.

  Until now.

  A rush of everything he knew to be true and real and right came at him from every side. The words of wisdom from his adoptive parents, the way his biological family clung so tightly to each other, even the conversations with Katy, the ones they’d had on the trails around Lake Monroe that felt like a lifetime ago.

  All the words and whispers came back, and suddenly Dayne knew. It didn’t matter how he felt about Kelly, not if they were going to have a baby. He had loved her once, right? What he’d thought was love, anyway. For the sake of their child, he would love her again. He would learn to love Kelly the way she deserved to be loved.

  And Katy Hart would be nothing more than a wonderful dream that never had the chance to come true.

  “Dayne, you’re not talking.” Kelly sounded weak, hopeless. “Look, if you’re not into this, I can get it taken care of. I’m not raising a kid by myself. Not with the tabs taking potshots at me along the way. If you want out, don’t worry about it. I can be done with this in—”

  “Kelly!” He didn’t raise his voice, but his tone caught her attention. He raked his fingers through his hair and paced across the room to the other side. “I would never ask you to raise a child—our child—by yourself.” He was breathing faster now, his mind racing with the possibilities. “Should you . . . do you wanna move back in with me? So we can go through this together?”

  “It isn’t that easy.” Defiance colored her words. “I’m not a charity case. If you take me back, it’ll be because you want me. Me and no one else but me.”

  The room was spinning again. Outside in the hall he could hear new voices—new attorneys, no doubt, getting ready to use the room for whatever deposition or hearing came next. He tried to focus. “Okay . . . so you don’t want to do this alone. But you don’t want to move back in either?”

  “What I’m saying is, let’s take it slow. Let’s start hanging out again and see where it goes.” Her tone softened. “There’s no one I’d rather have as the daddy for my child. I’ve seen you with kids—on the sets and on location. I think we have a chance here. Let’s at least give it a try.”

  “Okay.” Dayne was still confused. With Kelly four months along, they couldn’t only give it a try, could they? They had to make a commitment—to each other and to their unborn child. He stopped and stared at the floor. “When can I see you?”

  “Tonight isn’t good.”

  Dayne pictured Katy at the hotel, ready to catch a flight back to Bloomington in the morning. “For me, either.”

  “What about tomorrow night? We could meet at my place. Eight o’clock.”

  “All right.” Dayne massaged his temples with his free hand. In a single phone call his life had changed. No, more than that. His future had been decided. He had no idea what to say. “Kelly . . . I’m sorry.”

  “It happens.” Possibility rang in her tone. “Who knows? Maybe it was supposed to work out like this. So we would find our way back together.”

  “Yeah.” But Katy Hart’s face filled his mind, his soul. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing her smile to disappear. “Yeah, maybe so.”

  They hung up, and Dayne hung his head. What had just happened? He was going to be a father? He had promised to try and make a future with Kelly Parker? All of it felt like a terrible nightmare, a horrific joke. He felt weak, nauseous. It took nearly a minute before he could force his legs to carry him into the hall to a uniformed officer waiting just outside the door.

  “The car’s this way.”

  Dayne nodded and followed the man. He was halfway to Katy’s hotel before he made a plan. The information about Kelly and the baby would be a secret to the media and the industry, a secret to the public and even to their friends. But there was one person who had to know before another day passed. A person who would not look back after she knew the reality of what lay ahead.

  That person was Katy Hart.

  All through lunch, Katy knew.

  Something was wrong with Dayne, something about the trial or one of his films or maybe something about her. There was no other explanation. He sat next to his attorney and ate with the rest of them, and whenever someone asked him a question he had an answer. But he was distant and distracted, almost despondent. Most of all, he wouldn’t look at her. While they ate salads in a meeting room of her hotel, a space rented by Dayne’s lawyer, only rarely did Dayne even glance in her direction.

  True, until today they hadn’t seen each other since opening night for Annie, but the look he’d given her that night and this morning was completely missing now. Katy tried to steel herself against what might be coming. Maybe he had finally realized there could never be anything more than a distant friendship between the two of them. Whatever was wrong, she wanted to be ready for the pain. Months had passed, after all. Dayne wasn’t with Kelly Parker anymore, but maybe he’d moved on—the way the tabloids hinted—to Angie Carr, his current costar.

  But then why had he seemed so glad to see her at the courthouse earlier?

  Dayne’s attorney was waving his hand, talking about the press. “They’ll eat up the story, folk
s. I can tell you that much.” He took a drink of his iced tea. “Those prelims were dynamite.” He pointed at Dayne. “Your testimony alone makes the case a slam dunk.”

  “Good.” Dayne poked his fork around at the wilting lettuce on his plate. “Then let’s give Katy a break. She can go home, and I’ll be the media circus.”

  She blinked at him. Go home? Where did this attitude come from? When he was in Bloomington he’d told her several times that whatever was happening between them wasn’t finished yet. Not as long as the trial loomed ahead. But now . . .

  Joe Morris was saying something about anyone witness to a crime was subject to testify, and that of course there was no way for Katy to get out of testifying. But more than that, Katy could hear Dayne’s words: “Give Katy a break. She can go home . . . go home.”

  Katy kept her answers short the last ten minutes of lunch, talking only when Joe asked her a direct question about her flight or her availability.

  Finally, the attorneys stood, and Joe motioned to the prosecutor. “Let’s talk out here for a minute.”

  The prosecutor nodded. She was an intelligent, no-nonsense sort who had kept pace with Dayne’s attorney since the meeting at the courthouse.

  They left the room, and Katy and Dayne were alone. He lifted his eyes to hers, but he looked weary, as if whatever was eating at him was almost more than he could bear.

  “Did I . . . do something?” She pushed back her plate and rested her forearms on the table. She lifted her hands, baffled. “I feel like a stranger over here.”

  “I’m sorry.” Dayne stood, but his movements were slow, troubled. He came to her and took the seat beside her, facing her. “We need to talk.”

  Katy felt herself grow stiff. She pressed her spine against the back of the chair. Hide your feelings, Katy. Come on. “About what?”

  Only then did she see it. The hurt in Dayne’s expression, the certainty that something had changed or happened. Whatever it was, the look in his eyes was so sad it moved her deeply.

  He spoke straight to the loneliest places of her heart. “Later.” He looked up for a moment, then back at her. “Meet me at five o’clock tonight. Malibu Beach, a hundred yards south of the pier.”

  She thought hard, her pulse faster than before. “I’m not sure I know how to get there.”

  He grabbed a pen and a napkin and wrote her directions. Then he found her eyes. “Please, Katy . . . please come.”

  Her flight didn’t leave until morning. But what about the paparazzi and crazy fans? “We’ll get caught.”

  “Maybe.” He bit his lip. Then he came up with a plan: she would tuck her hair into a baseball cap. He would be sitting on the beach behind his house. “If I’m being watched, the moment I see you coming, I’ll stand and head up my stairs.”

  “Okay.” This was crazy. How could he live this way, worrying about people taking his picture, tracking his every move? Katy’s hands shook as she took the napkin.

  “If I go inside, you’ll stay on the beach for fifteen minutes, act like you’re watching the sunset. Then slip in through the door to my stairs. They’re fenced off.” He gave her a half smile. “Once you’re through the door at the bottom, the cameras can’t shoot you.”

  She searched his face for clues. But before she could ask him for a hint, for an idea about what might be so serious, Dayne’s attorney returned to the room. The prosecutor was right behind him.

  “Look—” Joe checked his watch—“I have to call the office before my flight.” He pointed at Katy. “Let’s stay in touch over the next few months. The trial should be the first week of May.”

  Dayne stood and shook his hand. “I’ll keep it open.”

  “Me too.” When Katy stood, her shoulder brushed against Dayne’s. The contact felt forbidden and wonderful, and it made her realize how much she’d missed him. She took a step to the side, her cheeks warmer than before. She, too, shook the attorney’s hand. “I’ll wait to hear from you.”

  The prosecuting attorney nodded. “I might need you both before then. I’ll let you know.”

  “Call me first.” Joe chuckled. “That’s one client who doesn’t do anything without someone from the firm at his side.”

  “No problem.” The prosecutor raised her file in their direction. “I’ll be in touch.” She slipped her briefcase beneath her arm and left.

  As the door opened, Katy caught a glimpse of a crowd in the lobby.

  “They found you.” Joe grinned as the door closed again. “Man, they don’t ever let up. You got about fifty of ’em out there, Dayne. Someone at the desk must’ve seen you come in.”

  “Photographers?” Dayne leaned against the edge of the table. He looked more frazzled than before.

  “Fans, I think. Probably a mix. Either way, there’s a car outside waiting for you.” Joe moved toward the door and turned to Katy. “Better wait until Dayne’s been gone awhile before leaving.” He motioned to another door. “That one leads to the bank of elevators.”

  “Fine. I’m going to my room from here.”

  “Wait at least ten minutes.” Joe frowned at Dayne. “Don’t you think?”

  Dayne slid his hands in his pants pockets. He sighed, and the sound of it filled the room. “Of course.”

  Joe patted Dayne’s shoulder. “I’ll call you.”

  “Thanks.” Dayne sounded defeated, beyond tired.

  As Joe shut the door behind him, Katy studied Dayne. She could almost read his mind. What sort of life was it if he couldn’t spend an hour with a friend, if he couldn’t leave a hotel meeting room without making plans to be discreet? She rested against the table too, careful to keep at least a few inches between them. “Crazy.”

  “Yeah.” He shrugged, his eyes still on the door. “I tried to tell you.” He cocked his head, his expression softer than before. “It comes with the territory.”

  He was right. Hollywood was full of people obsessed with a life like Dayne’s, drawing seven figures for a film, comfortably at the top of the industry’s A-list of actors. But the dream came with a price.

  She crossed her arms. “Sounds like you better go.”

  His bottle of water was still on the table. He took it and downed what was left of it. Then he straightened and faced her. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” Katy swallowed. Her throat suddenly felt thick, and she worked to find the words. “You can’t help it.”

  “Still . . .” A handful of emotions played out in his expression—frustration, anger, resignation, and finally a longing that was unmistakable. He closed the gap between them, and for a moment he looked as if he might kiss her. But instead he pulled her into a hug. “This isn’t how I wanted today to go.” When he spoke, his voice sounded strained, as if maybe regret was throwing itself into the mix of feelings tearing at him.

  “Me, either.” She slid her arms around his neck and allowed the hug to linger. This, their embrace, was wrong, wasn’t it? Letting her feelings show this way could never erase the fact that they didn’t belong together, that they were too different in every way that mattered. Back home in Bloomington she had trouble convincing herself there was nothing wrong with the feelings she had for Dayne Matthews. The same was true here. But now, in his arms, she didn’t ever want to let go.

  Dayne nuzzled his face against her hair, and it seemed like he might say something else. But he drew back and took tender hold of her hands. “Tonight?” The sadness was back, a sadness that defied the moment. “Please, Katy.”

  She breathed in the smell of him, the cologne and faint scent of soap. Why was his tone so heavy? He was used to the throng of autograph seekers and paparazzi, so was there something more? some reason why he’d been different during lunch? Did he feel the impossibility of his feelings for her, the same way she did? She wanted to ask, but he’d made himself clear. Whatever he needed to talk to her about would have to wait until tonight. She gently squeezed his hands and said the only thing she could say, “I’ll be there.”

  Dayne hesitated
and then released her fingers. He grabbed his PDA, his eyes on hers as he moved to the door. “Thanks.”

  “See you.” Katy smiled and waited until he shut the door. Only then did she realize she’d been holding her breath. She exhaled and dropped to the nearest chair. On the other side of the door, she could hear loud squeals and shouts, and his name repeated over and over again.

  “Dayne . . . Dayne . . . over here, Dayne!”

  She hung her head. What was wrong with her? Meeting him at the beach tonight would be a waste of time. She could call him and tell him so, and if he still wanted to talk to her, he could do it then. On the phone. That way she wouldn’t be as tempted to forget all the reasons she shouldn’t have feelings for him.

  But even as she considered calling Dayne instead of seeing him, even as the noise of the throng outside continued, and even as she questioned her sanity, Katy knew without a doubt there was only one place she could possibly be at five o’clock. The place where he would be waiting for her.

  Malibu Beach.

  The sun was sinking fast, and so far Dayne hadn’t seen any signs of photographers. He wore shorts, an old Michigan sweatshirt, his faded navy baseball cap, and sunglasses. Only the regular media hounds would’ve recognized him as anyone other than a jogger.

  A cool breeze came off the Pacific, but it did nothing to ease the pain in his heart. Kelly was pregnant. He was going to be a father. A dad. This new reality had consumed him since his conversation with Kelly. When Katy came to meet him, what more could he say? The conversation would begin and end with that one fact. Dayne squinted down the beach. It was nearly empty, the way it usually was in January. A few lone fishermen balanced poles off the edge of the pier, and the sandy stretch between him and the parking lot a quarter mile down was dotted with a handful of people.

  Still no Katy.

  A pair of noisy seagulls swooped low over the surf, looped around, and landed on the wet sand. Dayne pulled up one knee and rested his elbow on it. The timing couldn’t have been worse. He had been reading his Bible, trying to figure out why God was so important to everyone who had ever mattered in his life.