Hollywood Double: Hollywood Name Game Book 4

Book 4: Hollywood Name Game

by Alexa Aston, Scott Moreland

Genres: Contemporary Romance; Romantic Suspense; Romantic Suspense; contemporary romance; Hollywood; Hollywood Name Game; Hollywood actor; Hollywood actress; stuntman

Synopsis

From internationally bestselling romance author Alexa Aston - Book Four in the exciting Hollywood Name Game – a stunning new contemporary romance series – has arrived. Read for FREE with Kindle Unlimited!

She's a Hollywood leading lady who's never found love – except with Jax, her Basenji.

He's divorced from a cheating wife and refuses to ever give his heart away again.

Together, their smoking-hot chemistry leads to movie magic—and murder . . .

Mac Randall's life turns upside down when he walks in on his wife and her lover. He finishes his tour of duty overseas and leaves the army, becoming a popular stuntman in Hollywood. When the actor Mac doubles for is murdered, Mac is surprised to find himself cast as the film's leading man—at the suggestion of the actress who will play opposite him.

Keely Kennedy has built a solid career in Hollywood, rising from supporting roles to leading lady, but she's been unlucky in love. She becomes close friends with Mac Randall, her new co-star, while she helps him prepare for his first on-screen role. Friendship blossoms into love during their shoot and despite several mishaps on the set, she knows not only has she done the best work in her career on this film, but she believes Mac will become an instant star.

Before production is complete, though, the murderer surfaces—ready to kill the film—and its two stars.

Release date: February 10, 2021

Publisher: Oliver Heber Books

Print pages: 255

Sample

BEFORE

 

7 years ago . . .

 

 

Staff Sergeant Mackenzie Randall was pissed.

Majorly pissed.

Nothing had gone right on this mission. His squad of ten soldiers had been cut to four within minutes. The squads of the three sergeants under his command also suffered huge casualties. At the last report, they only had eleven men between them, including themselves. Heads would roll once they made it back to base camp.

If they made it back.

Mac’s bones told him the enemy was closing in fast.

“Where are those copters?” he hissed to his radio man, Tom Jenkins.

“Sixty seconds out, Sarge.”

He cursed under his breath. He didn’t know if they had six seconds, much less sixty. At least after the brunt of the ambush, he and the surviving members of his squad had been able to drag the fallen back while Jenkins radioed for help. The dead bodies surrounded the living, while two of his four soldiers were wounded and needed immediate attention.

Mac didn’t have a scratch on him.

A low moaning caught his ear. Had they forgotten someone? He quickly counted and saw Tubby Parsons was missing. The private had been one of the four survivors. He must’ve been shot on his last trip to gather their comrades and hadn’t made it back.

Mac began to crawl in the direction of the moans and reached Tubby as two helicopters swept across the sky and began a quick descent.

“I’ll get you out, buddy. Hang tight.”

Mac reached the wounded soldier and scooped him up into a fireman carry. He rushed to the helicopter as his men finished loading the dead and wounded. Mac thrust Tubby at a medic hovering in the opening and hollered, “Go!” as he jumped onto the landing skids. As they lifted from the ground, he was knocked into the chopper from behind. His shoulder screamed in agony. Mac knew he’d been hit.

It didn’t matter. He landed next to Tubby, who was as white as a sheet, his eyes closed. Grabbing the private’s hand, Mac said, “Hold on, Tub. Hold on. You’re going to make it. You’ve got that pretty little wife and new son. They’re counting on you to come home.”

The soldier didn’t reply. Either he’d passed out or was dead. Disillusionment filled Mac.

What the hell was he doing here?

He’d given nine years to the army and couldn’t see that they’d made a dent in this hellhole. Or any of the other ones he’d been sent to.

Something pressed against him. Pain flared as quickly as his temper. Mac glared over his shoulder.

“You’re bleeding, Sarge.” The medic quickly cut through a part of Mac’s fatigues. “I’ll patch you up now but let them know there’s a bullet in you when we get back.”

The aircraft landed a few minutes later and Mac helped load the wounded onto stretchers, including Tubby. His gut told him the soldier had to be dead but he wasn’t a doctor. Maybe one of the sawbones could work a miracle.

He followed the stretcher Tubby was on when a blond nurse stopped him. Just his type. Petite. Curvy. Blue eyes. Tan.

“Where are you going, Sergeant?”

“With my man.” Though he’d loved to stay and chat up the pretty nurse, he had places to go.

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. You’re bleeding. Badly.”

“I need to see about—”

“If you lose any more blood, you won’t be around to see your guy. Come with me. That’s an order, Soldier.”

She led him to a corner and lifted the soaked bandage from him before cutting away the remainder of his shirt.

Mac felt a little woozy, either from the bullet or staring into her baby blues. “Oh. I’m supposed to tell you I’ve got a bullet in my shoulder.”

The nurse snorted. “Thanks for the self-diagnosis.” After a moment examining him, she said, “The doctors are swamped. Some mission went to hell in a handbasket and they’ve got more bodies than they can handle. This isn’t deep. I can dig it out. Or you can wait for one of them.”

He gave her what he thought was a charming smile. “Be my guest.”

She cut away what was left of his shirt and worked on him for several minutes. Mac clenched his teeth as she prodded and poked, almost passing out at one point, but determined not to in front of such a looker.

“It’ll take a few stitches and then I’ll be done. At least with the shoulder.”

She put the stitches in and then hooked him up to an IV. Within minutes, he began to feel more like himself—except for the screaming pain in his shoulder.

“Be still. I’ve got shrapnel to dig out now.”

“What?” He hadn’t even felt that, too juiced from what had happened on the field.

She worked without speaking, her hands lightly touching his back. Finally, she said, “Done. Have any preferences on pain meds?”

“None.” He was determined to keep a clear head, especially knowing how rough the debrief would be.

“You were lucky, Sergeant.”

“Mac. Mac Randall.” He glanced at her well-endowed chest, seeing the name Rogers, and gave her a smile. “I think I’m the lucky one. Meeting you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Anything else I can do for you, Soldier?”

“Yeah. Two things. Tell me your name.”

Rogers pointed to her shirt.

“No, your first name.”

Sighing, she said, “It’s Ellen.”

“Ellen, we’re having a moment here.”

She finally smiled. “And the second thing?”

Mac grinned. “Will you marry me?”

Ellen burst out laughing.

It didn’t matter. Mac knew this lady was The One.

***

Anticipation rippled through Mac as the Uber driver exited the freeway. Another five minutes and he’d be home for forty-eight hours. He’d wanted to surprise Ellen. He had called her supervisor at the hospital and learned she had today off. The two of them worked it out for a friend of hers to take tomorrow’s shift. That way, he’d have his wife all to himself the entire two days.

Mac planned to make the most of it.

He regretted that he’d let her talk him into re-enlisting after her medical troubles. The bomb that cost Ellen her leg had sent her first to Germany, then stateside, to recover. She’d left the army and now worked as a nurse in a San Diego hospital. The plan was for him to finish up this final tour and join her. At least her encouragement to re-enlist had led to him making Sergeant First Class. Most non-coms had to have at least fifteen years in before making SFC. Mac had done it in just under twelve. Ellen knew it had been a goal of his and told him how proud she was, not of the bump in pay and rank, but of him.

“It’s up ahead. On the right,” he told the Uber driver, who pulled into the short driveway.

Mac thanked him and grabbed his duffel, hustling up to the door of the rental house. It wasn’t in the best neighborhood, with peeling paint and a yard that needed mowing. Once he was home for good when he finished out the last nine months of his commitment, they would need to find something better. Maybe closer to Ellen’s hospital.

With enough room for a kid. Or kids. He grinned, thinking of being a dad.

He slid his key into the lock, glancing at his watch. It was a quarter to six. She’d be getting up soon. Ellen always rose early, even on her day off. Not today. Mac planned to keep his wife in bed all day. He’d missed her warm curves and bouncing curls.

Maybe he would let her out of bed for a drive. Take her somewhere nice for dinner. They could cruise around and start looking for somewhere new to live. He also wanted to talk with her about what he might do next. All he’d known was the military, enlisting straight out of high school. At least Ellen had her nursing degree. Mac had no idea what he wanted to do. He was smart but had been an indifferent student. He’d just passed his thirtieth birthday. It was time to put on his big boy pants and figure out his life—and their future.

Maybe they could get a dog first. Then move up to kids. They hadn’t even talked about starting a family. Mac had assumed Ellen would want one. This might be the time to bring up the subject and negotiated how many kids they’d want running around the house.

Dropping his bag by the door, he tiptoed through the dark down the hall to the closed door of the bedroom. He heard something, almost like a moan, and grinned. Ellen talked in her sleep sometimes, making all kinds of weird noises.

He’d give her something to moan about.

Mac pushed open the door and was confused by what he saw. A bulky shape hovered over Ellen. Thrusting. The moan came again. Except it wasn’t just any moan. It was a cry of ecstasy.

“Harder. Harder. Faster.”

No mistaking her voice. That was Ellen in their bed.

With another man.

Mac felt for the light switch on the wall and flipped it on. He’d never get that picture out of his head. The broad, tanned back. Ellen’s leg wrapped around it. Her flushed face. The cry of the pair as they climaxed together.

Then they fell silent as they became aware of him. He saw Ellen’s eyes. Not frightened.

Satisfied.

Mac turned and walked out.

***

Mac woke, disoriented, then remembered where he was.

In the bed where his wife had betrayed him. Betrayed them.

He lay there, hurt washing over him like it was yesterday and not almost a year ago. He was such an idiot. The real reason his wife had wanted him to stay in the army was because she’d begun an affair with a doctor at her hospital. So, Mac did what she wanted. He went back to the only family he knew and stayed there. Angry at the world. Finished out his enlistment.

He hadn’t responded to her emails or texts for weeks. Didn’t make any calls to her since the thought of hearing her voice only brought fury. Finally, he’d chosen to see what she’d sent as he decided to get the ball rolling for divorce. Unless what she’d sent him were those very papers.

What he’d read shocked him.

Ellen had an aggressive form of brain cancer. She’d been diagnosed three days after he’d seen her in bed with her lover. She begged Mac to come home. He hadn’t.

And she’d died.

Today was her funeral. He’d returned for it, leaving the details to her bossy sister, Edie. Mac decided he owed it to Ellen for the good times they’d once had. His gut told him it was the right call but, then again, he wasn’t too trusting of his gut these days.

Mac showered and shaved but he couldn’t eat. He put on his dress uniform because the few civilian clothes he had weren’t funeral appropriate. He found the key to Ellen’s battered Toyota. He’d need to get rid of it. The house rental was good for another two months. He’d finished his deployment and had waffled on re-upping. He didn’t know why. His family was gone. He’d lost both parents and his sister in a car wreck his senior year in high school, which had spurred him to leave Texas behind and enlist two hours after graduation. It puzzled him why he’d hesitated to continue in the military when he had nothing to come back to. Nothing tied him to San Diego. That was Ellen’s stomping grounds.

He pulled into the funeral home’s parking lot and cursed. Getting out of a gray car was Edie, her louse of a husband, and her parents. Mac opened his car door, deciding he’d be civil and speak. When he saw the murderous look in Edie’s eyes, he knew it had been a mistake to come.

“You show up now, you son-of-a-bitch?” She marched over to him, shaking her finger in his face. “You left Ellen alone at the time she needed you most. What kind of husband does that? What kind of man are you?”

Edie slapped him and flounced off, grabbing her mother by the arm and hustling her away. The two men followed and the four entered the funeral home.

Mac wondered if they knew of Ellen’s affair and the real reason he’d stayed away. He doubted it. Ellen had always been the golden child in her family. No one would believe she would do something like cheat on her husband.

He entered and was greeted by a somber man in his late forties. Mac told him who he was.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Randall. Would you like to come into the chapel and see how everything has been set up?”

“Sure.”

The moment he entered, he saw the mass of flowers. The stateside smell of death. It was different in the field. Mac knew the scent of real death. He’d lost too many buddies to IEDs and bullets. He stood in the back and glanced at the slideshow that started up. It opened with pictures of Ellen as a baby. In her swimsuit. Wearing Mickey Mouse ears at Disney. It progressed through her teen years playing basketball and soccer. Graduation. A few shots with people he didn’t recognize. Then nursing school graduation. Her enlistment ceremony. In fatigues.

The next picture hit him hard. It was Ellen in her wedding dress, standing beside her sister. She hadn’t wanted to spend much money or time on a wedding after their whirlwind romance. He’d teased her that the scar on his shoulder would always remind him of her. Mac wondered if he ever really knew his wife. War heightened emotions. Serving together, they’d grabbed whatever minutes or hours they could until the enemy blew off her leg.

He blinked and saw a photo of Ellen at the beach that he’d taken on their two-day honeymoon. She had a knock-out figure, her blond hair and sky blue eyes set off by her perpetual tan. Just like he liked his women. Another shot from the honeymoon came up, this time of Ellen sipping a drink, a twinkle in her eye.

The next slide jolted him. It showed her standing with her prosthetic leg and several medical professionals. Ellen looked determined and confident despite being pale. A group shot came up next, everyone in scrubs. Ellen had her arms around the two guys standing on either side of her. His gut clenched.

The Asshole stood on her left.

So, he worked with her. Mac never knew that. Hadn’t wanted to know. Didn’t care who the guy was as long as he never saw him again, naked or otherwise. He hoped The Asshole wouldn’t show up today. He’d hate to start a fist fight at a funeral—but he wouldn’t hesitate to do it.

The slides started at the beginning again and it hit him. He hadn’t been in a single photograph. As if he’d been wiped clean from Ellen’s life. That was definitely Edie’s doing. Mac turned away in disgust, wondering if he should leave.

The funeral director touched his shoulder.

“The family is gathering in the back, Mr. Randall. Follow me.”

Mac did and the moment he entered the room, conversation ceased. Everyone gave him the once-over and then the cold shoulder, pointedly leaving him out of their conversations. After ten minutes, they were led by another guy in somber attire back into the chapel and the service began. Edie spoke first, her eyes swollen from crying, all passionate about her loving sister and how many lives Ellen touched and how she was the best person on the planet and would be missed by family and friends alike.

Then The Asshole rose and stepped to the front, stunning Mac. From what he said, it was obvious he was a doctor who’d worked closely with Ellen. He praised her professionalism and spoke of how he valued her friendship. How strong and brave she was, until the very end. How God had called one of His special angels home and that the heavens rejoiced with Ellen’s arrival.

Doctor Asshole left the podium and had the gall to smile at Mac as he passed. Mac wasn’t about to let this joker have the last word. He might have been screwing Ellen but Mac was the one who’d listened to her. Comforted her when she’d lost patients, some of whom had been friends. Something compelled him to rise and make his way to the microphone. He heard Edie say “No,” but Mac kept on walking.

Once he arrived, he had nothing planned because he hadn’t thought he’d speak. Mac wouldn’t use this platform to crucify Ellen, though. Instead, he spoke from his heart. He’d always been the type of student who’d chosen doing an oral project over a written paper. He was a natural speaker who charmed everyone. By the time he finished, Mac felt closure for the first time since Ellen’s horrendous betrayal. He knew now he could move on with his life.

Someone ushered the family from the chapel to a reception area. Ellen had gone religious after the cancer diagnosis, based on the emails she’d send him, and it looked like a bunch of church ladies had prepared a feast. He stood alone. No one greeted him or offered him sympathy. Mac decided to slip out when he heard his named called. The last person in the world he thought would be here headed toward him, a man who’d mentored him in the military.

“Captain Craft? What are you doing here?” he asked, stunned to see the man he believed was the best soldier he’d known during his years in the army in a sharp suit and tie.

“Call me Greg,” the former commander said easily. They shook hands. “I saw the obit in the paper and wanted to see you, Mac. What are you doing, now?”

“I just completed my final tour.”

“Are you re-upping?”

Mac shook his head. “The army is all I know. But I’m tired of fighting. Tired of not making a difference,” he admitted.

“I know the feeling. I put in my twenty and got out. If you don’t have plans, I’d like you to come work for me.”

Mac knew the officer had been a whiz with computers and anything technical. “Doing what? Are you into security systems?”

Greg laughed. “No. I live in Hollywood. I have a group of stuntmen that I assign to various films and commercials. The pay’s fantastic. You’re in great shape. It would be an easy fit. Even in bad times, like the Depression, people go to movies. They like to escape. It would be steady employment, Mac. You’d get to travel. Meet some of the big stars. What do you think?”

Mac had come back the states with no idea what he’d do with the rest of his life. He was ready for a change. This would be a huge change. Full of risk. Adventure. Short-term commitments, going from film to film.

He thrust out his hand. “I’m in.”

 

 

NOW

CHAPTER 1

 

Keely Kennedy rinsed her coffee mug in the kitchen sink and slipped her feet into athletic slides.

“Ready to make another movie, Jax?”

Her tricolor basenji jumped down from the sofa and trotted to where his leash hung by the door. Retrieving it, he brought it to Keely.

She kissed the top of his head. “You are the smartest boy ever,” she praised.

Clipping the leash to his collar, she grabbed her purse and keys and set the alarm before locking the door. She hated that they were missing golden hour this morning, her favorite time of day to walk Jax. She’d always loved that hour right after sunrise, when the light held a bit of red in it and was softer than after the sun rose high in the sky. Instead, they’d walked along the beach earlier because today started the beginning of another film. Keely was happy to have been cast in the action drama because her friend, Cassie Corrigan, wrote the screenplay. Cassie had been instrumental in hiring Keely seven years ago for her first film, No Regrets, for which she’d been nominated for best supporting actress. Her name hadn’t been called on Oscar night but the recognition allowed her to have more choice over her career and select roles she wanted—sometimes even skipping the audition process.

It had also given her a trusted circle of friends. Her co-star in No Regrets, Dash DeLauria, wound up marrying their director, Sydney Revere, and Keely became close friends with the couple, as well as Cassie and her husband, actor Rhett Corrigan. Through Rhett, Keely had met his sister, Scarlett, and the two women spent as much time together as they could, considering both put in long hours at work. With Keely starting a new film and Scarlett gaining new clients left and right, they would have to work hard to find time to play.

She loaded her things and Jax into her SUV and turned on a classic rock station after starting the vehicle. Nothing like pounding rock to get a good start on the day. Turning onto the PCH, she saw traffic was moderate and knew she’d get to the studio in plenty of time. Murder at Magic Hour had been delayed after Sydney, who was the executive producer, fired the director. Keely had thought he was an odd duck. The more he’d talked to her about her role as Ashley Conner, the more confused Keely became as to what she was supposed to bring to the screen. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one. Sydney used the whole “his vision didn’t match the producers’ vision” line, industry-speak for irreconcilable differences between a director and those who funded a film.

The firing and search for a replacement who could start immediately kept production stalled for three weeks. Once Sydney hired Josh Middleton, the new director insisted on another round of table readings so he could get a handle on the script and cast. Keely had already approached Josh and they’d spoken at length about Beau Braxton, her co-star. The actor had talent—but it was heavily outweighed by his massive ego. She worried it would be a tedious shoot, especially after he’d stepped on her lines during the table reads with both directors. Keely wasn’t one to deliberately grab attention or steal a scene from a fellow actor but she did want her fair share and expected to be able to deliver her lines without interference, especially since she and Beau had equal billing. Cassie had written their roles in a balanced manner. Josh guaranteed that he’d look after Keely on set. Since they’d done a movie together three years ago, she had confidence the director would rein in Beau.

As far as making Beau more likeable? That was never going to happen.

The gate guard waved her through. Jax sat up and gave one of his yodels, which tickled Keely every time she heard it. Basenjis were known as the barkless dog. Instead of barking, Jax made an odd noise in the back of his throat that came out sounding like something between chattering and a young boy’s yodel. She petted the dog as she turned west and headed for the soundstage. Parking, she grabbed her things and Jax and exited the SUV.

Right away, she noticed the guy getting out of the black truck beside her.

Really noticed him.

He was probably six-two, wearing a navy T-shirt that showed off enough bicep and a lot of strong forearm, one of her weaknesses. His faded jeans spotlighted an amazing ass, another weakness. If this guy had a sense of humor, he would be her trifecta. Light brown hair cropped close and what looked like a year-round tan rounded out the picture.

“Hi. Where are you going?” she asked, trying to be friendly—and see up close what color eyes he had.

Not that she was in shopping mode for a new man in her life. It had been three months since she and Bruce amicably parted ways. Starting a new picture wasn’t the time to begin a new relationship, even with a man who looked this amazing. Keely never had been drawn to a man’s physical appearance when she accepted a date. She was a woman who valued intelligence and a sense of humor. Looks always came in second. Though nice forearms and a firm butt were definitely pluses, especially in this stranger’s case.

He was definitely a looker. It never hurt to look, she reminded herself. Looking was healthy. Especially since she hadn’t had sex since Bruce. Looking would help her remember this guy when she had time to fantasize. He would tick the box for any woman wishing to fantasize.

He turned her direction and sized her up. Keely’s mouth went dry. Normally, she’d be pissed at a man checking her out so thoroughly. In his case, she’d overlook it.

Especially since she’d been guilty of doing the same.

Jax warbled at the stranger and Keely laughed seeing his reaction.

The man closed the gap between them. “What . . . was that?”

“This is Jax. And that . . . was his non-bark.”

The man’s espresso eyes studied her dog and then lit up in recognition. “He’s a basenji.”

“That’s right. How did you know? Most people have never heard of the breed.”

“I saw a movie—Goodbye, My Lady—about a basenji. Brandon De Wilde, the kid from Shane, was in it.”

“I read the book and saw the movie,” Keely said. “I always wanted a basenji after that. It only took twenty years before I found one.” She scratched Jax’s head. “You know Shane and Goodbye, My Lady. Are you a film buff? Those are pretty old movies.”

He grinned. “I am. My parents raised me on the classics. I go to the movies at least twice a week. Binge like a fool on Netflix. Attend film festivals. It’s easy to do in Hollywood.”

Keely loved classic films but some of this guy’s appeal faded. He had to be an actor. She’d dated her fair share of fellow actors when she’d arrived in Hollywood and decided she’d never do so again after her last disastrous relationship with one.

Still, curiosity led her to ask, “Are you an actor?”

“No. Stuntman and stand-in. Mac Randall.”

He offered her his hand and she shook it. Mr. Not an Actor’s appeal increased exponentially. She told herself to tamp down her interest but heard herself say, “I’m glad you know how to shake. Firm without crushing my hand. Most guys try to be cool and overdo it.”

“I’m not most guys.” Those dark brown eyes gazed at her steadily, causing her cheeks to heat.

She thought him articulate enough to be an actor. He had a great build and moved confidently in his body. She’d never met a stuntman who could act, though. Most were plain nut jobs. A majority of them had a death wish. A part of her hoped this guy would be working on her film. She shrugged it off.

“I’m Keely Kennedy,” she offered.

“I know.”

She laughed. “You sound very Harrison Ford-like. You know, when Han Solo talks to Leia. Interested but not tipping his hand.”

“I’m interested.”

Her insides fluttered. “I wish I could say the same, Mr. Randall, but I start shooting a new movie today. That’s pretty much all I’ll have time for. Besides Jax.” Angry she was shutting him down when she really didn’t want to, she added, “Maybe we could have coffee sometime. After filming ends.”

“Is it the Beau Braxton movie?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Beau’s double.”

“I see.” Keely swallowed and then gestured, “Set’s this way.”

Mac Randall fell into step beside her. Jax walked on her right, eyeing the stranger carefully. Basenjis were known not only for attaching themselves to one human but being wary of others that came around. Though only a year old and right at twenty pounds, Jax was very protective of her.

They reached the building and she said, “I’ve got to head to hair and makeup. I’ll see you on set.”

“Maybe I’ll bring you a cup of coffee,” he said.

Keely read all kinds of innuendo into that line and then mentally beat herself up as she entered to be transformed into Ashley Conner. Coffee was coffee. She’d mentioned coffee. He was just being nice, saying he’d bring her a cup.

Then why were her insides acting as if she’d just gotten off a roller coaster at Universal?

She greeted Pam, the makeup artist, and placed her things down before she sat in the chair. She wrapped Jax’s leash around the arm once and he curled up on the floor as Pam rolled close. They chatted briefly and then the makeup artist got to work. Keely was pleased Pam would be in charge of her makeup. They’d worked together once before and Keely thought she’d never looked better on screen.

“What do you think?” Pam asked and moved away so Keely could see into the mirror.

She studied her image, pleased with what she saw. “Flawless. Whatever Sydney is paying you, you should ask for more.”

“Trev? Keely’s ready for you,” Pam called.

A lanky six-footer headed toward her, shoving his cell into his pocket.

“Ready to become Ashley?” he asked.

“I’m putty in your hands, Trev.”

She and Trevor had talked at length with Cassie about her vision for the character. The hair stylist had come up with a sleek, easy style that Cassie believed would be credible for an FBI agent—and still look smashing on screen.

By the time Trevor finished, it surprised Keely that Beau Braxton hadn’t shown up yet. She’d heard some of the whispers of the actor’s drug use, though his reputation had him always arriving on set on time, knowing his lines. As she headed to her trailer to change into the wardrobe for this morning’s scenes, she didn’t spot him and wondered if Beau pulled a prima donna act on the first day of shooting. Josh, who was a control freak, wouldn’t tolerate that kind of behavior, even if Beau would pull in big box office dollars. The public adored Beau, no matter what role he played.

Keely put on the off-white blouse and dark navy suit that was Ashley’s uniform in the film, even strapping on the shoulder holster complete with gun. She kissed Jax and left him plenty of food and water and then left her trailer. Arriving on set, she saw Jamie, her stand-in, beside Mac Randall. The lighting director hovered nearby, giving the pair instructions as he perfected things. Josh sat in his director’s chair, a distracted look on his face. Keely greeted him.

“Braxton hasn’t shown up,” Josh told her loudly, his voice angry. “He’s not answering his phone.”

“What?”

Keely saw it was Mac Randall who’d spoken. The stuntman came toward them and said, “That’s not like Beau. I’ve worked on three films with him as his stunt double and stand-in. He may be a jerk most of the time but he’s never late. His dad was a school principal and drilled on time is late into his head. Beau’s always ten minutes early for everything.”

Mac ran a hand through his short hair and muttered, “He broke our routine this morning.”

“What do you mean?” Keely asked.

Mac glanced up at her. “Each movie we’ve done together, I pick him up at 4 AM. We do our workout, eat pancakes at the same place for good luck that first morning, then head to the studio. Beau texted me last night to go without him. That he’d see me on set instead. I thought it odd at the time but now that he’s not here, I’m worried.”

Josh frowned. “He’s in almost every scene today.”

“Except for two,” Keely said. “The call sheet had Eric doing two by himself. That serial killer talking to himself and doing creepy things kind of stuff. Could you start with those until Beau gets here? Maybe he’s been in a fender bender,” she suggested, giving the actor the benefit of the doubt.

The director nodded. “Good thinking, Keely. We’ll do that.”

“I’m going over to Beau’s,” Mac said. “It’s not like him. Sure, he can be an asshole to everyone around him but when he’s in character, he’s a professional. I know his gate code. Let me go check on him.”

“I’ll go with you,” she offered. “My scenes are all with Beau. No reason to sit around here. Let’s go.”

Keely walked out with Mac, surprised that she’d been so bold. Something about this guy interested her, though. Getting to spend a little time with him intrigued her.

As they crossed the soundstage, he asked, “No Jax with you?”

“He’s in my trailer for now. He pretty much goes everywhere with me. Except the shower. Basenjis are not fond of water. They’re like cats and bathe themselves.”

“Jax is welcome. You can’t mess up a truck. Now, if I’d brought my Jag, that would be a different matter altogether.”

“I dated a guy in high school who restored an XJ8.”

“Impressive. That’s a classic.”

“The car might’ve been. Not the guy. I wasn’t cool enough for him.”

Mac gave her a sideways look. “Somehow, I doubt that. Keely Kennedy not cool?”

She laughed. “In middle school, I was all braces and glasses and gawky limbs. An ugly duckling at its worst. My arms and legs went every which way except where I wanted them to go. By the time high school rolled around, the braces were gone and I’d gotten contacts. I was, however, a band geek. Everyone knows jocks and band geeks don’t mix.”

They reached his truck and Mac thoughtfully opened her door. She got in and Mac shut the door and came around to the driver’s seat.

“So, this idiot jock dumped you?” The glance he gave her caused a chill to ripple down her spine.

“Dumped me, he did. The day before homecoming, no less. Would’ve been a waste of a good dress but Mom hadn’t let me clip the price tag off yet. She made me take it back to the mall, which just killed me. Said returning it would build character.”

Keely hadn’t thought about that in a long time. Her mom had died shortly before Keely’s senior year in college. She’d probably rolled over in her grave when her daughter chucked a steady career in accounting for the bohemian life of an actor.

They talked easily as Mac drove, chatting about sports and current events. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so relaxed around a guy.

“You’re really easy to talk to,” she observed.

“All the girls say that,” Mac quipped.

“I’m being serious.”

“Really?” He laughed. “It’s been a long time since I’ve talked with a woman. Since a woman’s even ridden in my truck.”

“Are you gay?”

“No. Just a loner.”

Keely thought maybe he might be lonely, too. She heard something in his voice that reminded her of herself.

They turned into Beverly Hills and, five minutes later, arrived at what she assumed was Beau Braxton’s house. Mac punched in a code and the gates swung open. He pulled up the driveway and into the circle in front of the mansion. She opened her door and accompanied Mac to the front door.

He rang the doorbell. “Today’s Monday. Usually Maria, Beau’s housekeeper, is here by now. Don’t see her beat-up Honda, though.” When no one answered, he fiddled with his keyring and inserted a key into the lock.

“Beau must really trust you,” she commented.

He shrugged. “I guess. Actually, Beau should put in a revolving door for all the women that come in and out. The key’s just a convenience,” he explained. “Sometimes, I have to wake him up to go work out. Beau likes the results of a hard workout but not having to get up early to get the workout in during filming.”

Keely had also heard rumors about Braxton’s legendary drinking. “You mean he’s sleeping off a binge and you drag him from bed.”

“Something like that.”

“This is not a good way to start this film. Sydney runs a tight ship.”

“Beau’s good when he’s filming. Eats clean. Doesn’t drink much. It’s just in-between roles that he’s got a problem.”

They entered the foyer and Mac called out Beau’s name. When no one answered, he said, “I’ll check the house. You want to try the pool and pool house? Sometimes, I’ve found him out there.”

“Sure,” she agreed.

Keely went outside and saw no one there. She entered the pool house, which was a two-bedroom place with a den and kitchen, and found it empty. She went back to the main house, entering through the kitchen. A purse, water bottle, and set of keys sat on the island and she guessed the housekeeper had finally arrived. Not seeing Mac downstairs, she started up the stairs, hoping Beau wasn’t on a bender—or worse. She hadn’t seen any evidence of his rumored drug use during their table read. Josh had skipped rehearsals and moved straight into filming because they were already behind schedule. She wondered if Beau might be nervous because of that and had tried liquid courage—or worse—to get ready for today.

Suddenly, a piercing scream sounded.