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  He chuckled, then looked at his watch. “How does seven o’clock sound to you?”

  “Perfect, Dr. Becker. Just perfect.”

  Chapter 6

  Since learning that her mother was the face behind LAT Enterprise, Abby Simpson had doled out assignments as she saw fit. In doing so, The Informer’s sales had quadrupled, and they were now running neck and neck with the National Enquirer. They’d surpassed the Globe months ago. And Abby couldn’t be happier. Though she missed her mother and her three godmothers being in Malibu, Abby knew it was best that they stayed in Charleston in order to monitor Bernice’s condition after her bypass surgery. Bernice was like a favorite aunt to her. She’d moved with her mother, her father, and Abby from New Jersey when Abby was only five. She couldn’t imagine life without Bernice any more than she could imagine life without her mother and her three godmothers, or the three g’s, as she affectionately referred to them.

  Tonight she’d been invited to attend the premiere of what Hollywood insiders were calling the movie of the year, a shoo-in for an Oscar and a Golden Globe Award. Sandra Bullock had the starring female lead, with George Clooney as the leading man, in As Time Goes By, a love story that took place during the Holocaust.

  Abby had splurged on an exquisite Carolina Herrera gown, a two-tone satin gown in Paris Poppy red with a one-shoulder neckline and a mermaid pleated back. She’d had to have a few alterations done, given her petite size. Abby would wear the diamond earrings given to her by her mother for her sixteenth birthday, would carry a small matching clutch, and would wear heels, but that was it. Nothing too flashy for her. She didn’t want to be accused of trying to upstage the stars, but she didn’t want to show up in some off-the-rack garb from last season, either. She thought that she’d reached a happy medium with her choice.

  The icing on the cake—Chris was going to attend the event with her. Wanting to stay out of the limelight as much as possible since his much-publicized nightmare with Laura Leighton, he’d dropped most of his clients, telling Abby he was easing out of entertainment law. Said it was time for a second career. Abby had asked him what he had in mind, but he had yet to reveal any plans to her.

  “Woof! Woof!” Chester, her six-year-old German shepherd, barked, letting her know he wanted her attention.

  “Yes, I know. You want to go outside.” Abby dutifully opened the French doors that led to her fenced-in backyard, where Chester would watch the squirrels and occasionally give chase, though he never tried very hard to catch them. She’d adopted him from a shelter as a Christmas gift to herself. He’d been her constant companion ever since. When she was working as a reporter at The Informer, she would take him to work with her, and when she was on what she thought of as a Hollywood stakeout, she always brought him along for protection. He’d become a permanent fixture at the paper, and she hoped to keep him around as long as humanly possible. He was her very best friend.

  Leaving him outside to do his thing, Abby glanced at the clock. It was getting late. She needed to start getting ready for tonight’s event. Her dress hung in a plastic bag in the closet; her shoes were still in the box. Unlike most of tonight’s attendees, she’d opted to do her own hair and makeup. Besides, she wasn’t one for all the glitz and glamour. Abby liked to observe and report, nothing more. But she had to admit that she was excited about tonight’s premiere. Not because of the movie’s star-studded cast. No, she was excited because it was really the first time she would be attending such an event with Chris as her date.

  Since his nightmare experience with Laura Leighton, Chris had treated her like an entirely different person. Especially since they’d admitted their love for one another. She recalled quite clearly the night they admitted this to each other.

  Abby had written about Chris and Laura being stranded in a blizzard, though she omitted the part about Laura Leighton wanting to blow up World Con Studios. They’d shared a phone call; then, out of the blue, he’d called her back. She recalled the conversation quite clearly.

  She answered on the first ring. “What?”

  “Did I ever tell you your telephone etiquette sucks?”

  “What?” Abby said again.

  “You need to learn how to answer the phone properly.”

  “You called me just to tell me that? Chris Clay, have you been nipping at the bottle?”

  He cracked up laughing. “Nipping, Abby? What’s that? A new Hollywood term for drunks?”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “No, Chris, it’s not. Now tell me, why are you calling me at this ungodly hour? I have to be at work in a few hours. Unlike some people I know.”

  “Didn’t you just call me half an hour ago? What’s changed, Abby? The dog’s not keeping you warm enough?”

  “Chris, the next time I see you, I swear I’m going to smack you right upside the head. What in the hell has gotten into you?”

  “You, Abby. You’ve gotten into me. And that’s why I called. I couldn’t wait another minute to tell you that I love you.”

  Abby remembered that it took her a few minutes to get her bearings. She wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly.

  “Did you hear what I just said, Abby?”

  Silence.

  “Abby?”

  “I heard you, Chris. I heard you.” Abby was breathless.

  “And? Aren’t you going to tell me what a jerk I am? Call me a few choice names? Smack me right upside the head?”

  She was stunned, surprised, and over the moon. Totally over the moon. The three words she’d been waiting to hear from him for longer than she cared to admit. She was over the moon. Big-time. Very, very big-time.

  “No, Chris, I don’t want to do any of those things to you. What I want is for you to get your butt in that boring Toyota Camry you drive and come out here so I can tell you I love you back to your face.”

  “I’m on my way, sweet girl. I’m on my way.”

  They’d been practically inseparable ever since, though they’d yet to take their relationship to an intimate level.

  Soon, Abby thought. Soon.

  We’ve definitely waited long enough.

  Chapter 7

  Chris Clay wiped an imaginary speck of dust from the clapel of his newly purchased Calvin Klein tuxedo. He was attending a movie premiere with Abby, and he wanted to look his very best. Though he’d been to many such events in the past, he’d never attended them with a woman with whom he was madly in love.

  He grinned just thinking of Abby. She was a pint-size ball of fire, with blond curls and eyes as blue as the sky. He’d been attracted to her for a long, long time. Though their parents had married one another, Chris had never seen much of Abby during the years of their parents’ marriage, as he’d been away at college. Then his father passed away, and he thought his contact with Abby and Toots might end, but it didn’t. Toots remained his mother in every sense of the word. He’d been in high school when they married, and he adored Toots. She was the only mother figure he’d ever had. Later, when Abby moved to Los Angeles, where Chris was practicing law, he’d promised Toots he’d keep an eye out for her. He had in his own way. Chris didn’t want her to think he was stalking her, or that he was an overly possessive stepbrother, so he’d stayed behind the scenes as much as possible, allowing Abby to live her life. Occasionally, they’d meet for lunch or just bump into one another, but they’d never really hung out on a regular basis.

  Nonetheless, she’d somehow managed to get under his skin, and no matter how much he tried, he simply could not stop thinking of her. He’d kept his feelings to himself. But two years ago, they’d had a date of sorts. He’d taken her to Pink’s, a little joint in Los Angeles noted for its hot dogs. They’d sat in the car, chatted, and eaten their hot dogs. Then he’d kissed her fingers. One at a time. With each kiss, his whole being filled with wanting. And it hadn’t stopped since.

  Trapped on a mountain during a blizzard with that featherbrained Laura Leighton had made him realize just how short life really was and that it could be taken
away at a moment’s notice. He vowed then that he would tell Abby his feelings. If she rebuffed him, then so be it.

  Luckily for him, she’d felt the same way. Ever since, they’d taken things slow and easy. Tonight he planned to change that when he proposed. He had purchased a diamond ring and had it safely tucked inside the pocket of his tuxedo. For that matter, he planned to change a lot of things in his life. He could only hope that Abby would agree to the changes.

  With one last look in the mirror, he ran a comb through his hair, knowing it wouldn’t stay in place no matter what he did. Then he shut the light out, grabbed the keys to his Toyota Camry, and headed for Brentwood. Since selling his condo, he’d relocated to an apartment just minutes from Abby’s. He liked being close to her, liked that he could be at her house in ten minutes, and that was in heavy traffic.

  Five minutes later, he pulled into Abby’s drive. Her bright yellow MINI Cooper was parked in its usual place. Abby had spent hours weeding, watering, and planting, and now her front lawn rivaled any in Beverly Hills. In the back, the courtyard had been overrun with elderberry vines, honeysuckle, and morning glory. Abby had artfully trimmed the vines, making her back lawn a place to kick back and relax. If it were up to him, he’d rather toss a couple of steaks on the grill and enjoy the sweet scents and the view. Not that night, though. It was an important night for Abby, as she, or rather The Informer, had been invited to attend the movie premiere. In the world of tabloid journalism, it was big news.

  A loud bark jolted him out of his reverie. He hopped out of his car and walked behind the house to the fenced-in yard, where Chester was racing around. Chris unlocked the door to the gate, as Chester stood on the other side, waiting to greet him like an old friend. He stooped down to pet the big German shepherd and received a big, slobbery doggy kiss.

  “Hey, not tonight, old guy. I’ve got a hot date with the best-looking woman in LA. I don’t think she’d like it much if I smelled like a dog.” Chris rubbed the shepherd between his ears. “No offense, buddy.”

  He left the backyard and went around to the front, where he knocked on the door. He could’ve tapped on the French doors, and Abby would’ve let him in, but tonight was formal, special. He wanted the evening to be perfect, because if he was lucky enough, both his and Abby’s lives were about to change.

  She opened the door, and what he saw literally took his breath away.

  “Don’t you look like the sexiest man alive,” Abby said as Chris stepped inside the entryway. “You could give any one of those movie stars a run for their money.”

  Chris grinned but said nothing. He stared at Abby as though he were seeing her for the very first time. “And I could say the same about you. If I didn’t know better, I would mistake you for one of those starlets that you write about.”

  Abby stopped and turned to face him. She placed a hand on each shoulder, then leaned into him, her lips mere inches from his. In her most sensual voice, she said, “If you ever say that to me again, I will smack you squarely in that delicious mouth of yours.”

  Chris placed his arms loosely around her waist, then whispered in her ear, “Promise?”

  “I’m not making any kind of promise,” Abby said, her blue eyes dancing playfully. She stepped out of his embrace. “Though I must admit, you clean up very nicely.”

  “Only because I wouldn’t want to publicly humiliate you,” Chris joked.

  Abby really took a good look at Chris. “There isn’t a chance of that, and you know it very well. I think the tux suits you, kind of James Bondish. I like the all-black look.” She scanned the length of him, then smiled.

  “I take it I pass your inspection?”

  “With flying colors,” Abby added, then did a quick swirl. “And?”

  Chris laughed. It wasn’t like Abby to seek a compliment, but he liked that she did, and from him especially. “That dress looks as though it were made for you. The color brings out your cheekbones.”

  “You sound like Joan Rivers on the red carpet,” Abby said, trying unsuccessfully to suppress a girlish giggle.

  “Whatever I sound like, I hope to hell I don’t look like her. All that stretched skin. Reminds me of a Halloween mask gone bad.”

  “Oh now, that’s mean, Chris. Even from you. If we’re lucky, she’ll stop us tonight. She’s known for picking on the unexpected guests. The Informer isn’t at the top of the guest list, I can tell you that much.”

  “I won’t argue with that.” Chris glanced at his watch. “Are you all set? Anything special we need to do for Chester? He’s in the backyard, admiring the squirrels.”

  “My new neighbors are going to check on him tonight. Since I had that new doggy door installed, he can pretty much come and go when he wants.”

  “You didn’t tell me you had new neighbors,” Chris stated.

  “You didn’t ask,” she replied. “And before you do, they’re a retired couple. They bought that ranch two houses down. Their granddaughter urged them to move here. They said she’s going to be a big star someday, and they wanted to do whatever they could to support her,” Abby explained.

  “Well, good luck. Only her and a zillion others,” Chris commented. “But if Chester likes them, then I’ll take that as a sign.”

  “He does, and thanks. I thought the same thing,” Abby agreed. “You know, we’re both starting to think and act like Sophie.”

  Chris cackled. “Please don’t put me in that category! I love the old gal, but she could use a bit of sprucing up in the mouth department. At sixty-five or sixty-six, she’s still attractive, I’ll give her that, but she needs to tone down the cussing. Takes away from her good looks.”

  Abby looked at him as though he had two heads. “You’re . . . shitting me, right?” She couldn’t help herself.

  He shook his head, his eyes as bright as fire. He put both hands out in front of him, as though he were reluctantly surrendering. “No, I am not shitting you, Abby Simpson. Now”—he glanced at his watch for the second time—“if we don’t get out of here soon, we’ll miss the walk down the red carpet. And I, for one, do not want to miss an opportunity to be interviewed by Ms. Rivers.”

  Abby laughed. “Let me get my purse.”

  Unbeknownst to Abby, Chris had arranged for a limousine service to take them to the movie premiere. He wanted this entire night to be magical, like something out of a fairy tale, an experience Abby would remember for the rest of her life. A story she would tell their children and grandchildren. He smiled at the thought. Life was good, and if he was right about Abby and her feelings for him, it was about to get a whole lot better.

  Abby emerged from the bedroom with a tiny matching purse. He couldn’t imagine what it could hold.

  “It’s for my cell and lipstick, okay?” Abby informed him. “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “More and more like Sophie.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I cuss, but I am not psychic. Now, let’s get out of here. I had the MINI detailed just for tonight. No dog hairs on this dress.” Abby grabbed her keys from the hook on the wall by the front door. Chris reached up and took them from her.

  “Just what in the heck do you think you’re doing? Don’t you dare go and get all macho—me man, you woman—on me. I can drive just fine, thank you very much.”

  “Abby.” His lips found hers. He explored their soft, velvety fullness, the taste that he’d learned to love.

  Gently, Abby pushed him away from her, a smile igniting the fire he saw in her eyes.

  “That’s . . . nice, but—” She stopped. She wasn’t required to attend this premiere.

  “But what?” he asked.

  “We don’t have to go, really. We can stay here and . . .” Abby wanted to say “have wild sex all night” but didn’t.

  Chris wrapped his arms around her, and she placed her head of thick blond curls on his chest. “I know what you’re thinking, and there is nothing I would like more, but we can’t. Our wheels just arrived.”

  Abby pulled out of his embrac
e and peered out the front window. “A limo? This is why you took my keys from me?”

  “Yep,” he said.

  She opened the clasp on her clutch purse and dropped the keys inside.

  “Then what are we waiting for?”

  Chapter 8

  “How do I look?” Toots asked Sophie.

  “Like a cheap old woman trying to look twenty years younger,” Sophie stated in a steely tone.

  Toots whirled around, saw the teasing look on Sophie’s face, then fell on the bed next to her. “You are such a witch.”

  Toots had spent the last hour in her bedroom, trying on clothes. She wanted to look extra special for her date that night but didn’t want it to appear as though she was trying too hard.

  “I know. Ida reminds me every chance she gets,” Sophie said. With several pillows propped behind her, Sophie reclined on Toots’s bed in a pose that Queen Elizabeth I might have taken. “She’s pissed. You know that, right?”

  Toots got up and tossed the cream-colored skirt she’d removed on the bed to join the rest of the clothes she’d already discarded. “Look, Ida is always pissed at someone. It’s just her way. She’s really excited about her new cosmetics, and frankly, so am I. I just used the face cream when I got out of the shower. It really softened my skin.”

  “Yes, she instructed me on how and when to use it, too. Mavis likes it. I do, too, but I’m not sure I want to tell her that. Today is day one. Who knows? We could look like old, dried-up prunes tomorrow. That would be just like Ida to do something like that. Make us believe she’s discovered the fountain of youth, when, in reality, she’s condemning us to something that could cause disfigurement or skin cancer.”