Hollywood Enigma: Hollywood Name Game Book 5

Book 5: Hollywood Name Game

by Alexa Aston

Genres: Romantic Suspense; contemporary romance; Hollywood; Hollywood Name Game; woman lawyer; Hollywood actor

Synopsis

From internationally bestselling romance author Alexa Aston – the final book in the exciting Hollywood Name Game – a stunning new contemporary romance series. Read for FREE with Kindle Unlimited!

She's a legal shark—sleek and deadly—but doesn't trust anyone beyond her small circle of family and friends.

He's internationally famous—and yet a mystery to the world as he cloaks himself in privacy.

Can they shed their fears and open their hearts to one another?

Actor Wynn Gallagher is at the peak of his fame, playing superhero Carbon Man in the Alpha Tharra Universe film franchise. While the role has made him wealthy, he's ready to move on to newer challenges—but his ironclad contract will keep him tied to the role for years to come. Seeking legal advice, he approaches Scarlett Corrigan, one of the top entertainment attorneys in Los Angeles.

Scarlett is the younger sister of Hollywood's highest paid actor, Rhett Corrigan, but she's made a name for herself in entertainment law. She thrives on challenges and readily accepts Wynn as a client, but she puts the brakes on the strong attraction between them, not wanting to mix business with pleasure.

Eventually, Wynn and Scarlett become involved but tragedy strikes not once, but twice, threatening to end their relationship before it has a chance to grow and flourish.

Can Wynn and Scarlett overcome overwhelming odds and find lasting love?

Release date: February 10, 2021

Publisher: Oliver Heber Books

Print pages: 267

Sample

PROLOGUE

 

Wynn Youngblood wiped away the last of the greasepaint and then used a cool, wet wipe to soothe his face. Dress rehearsal couldn’t have gone any better. The play would open tomorrow night and run for a week. After that, he had a week of classes left and then finals. The last finals he’d ever take. He’d walk the stage and claim his degree in mathematics and never darken the door of a college classroom again—thanks to being bitten by the acting bug.

As he shed his Elizabethan costume and dressed in the button down shirt and dark navy pants, Wynn couldn’t think of a single person obtaining a mathematics degree from Winters College that wasn’t moving on to a graduate-level program. That’s what you had to do if you were a math major because a bachelors was absolutely worthless on its own. Grad school and a future PhD would’ve been his destiny a year ago until he took a drama class to fulfill a necessary fine arts credit—and found heaven.

Bob Peterson stuck his head in the doorway as Wynn slipped into his loafers.

“Fantastic job today, Wynn. You’ve made this last requirement to get my MFA so easy. I dreaded directing someone who’d only been involved in theater a short time but you’re a dream to work with. Are you going to give acting a chance after graduation?”

He nodded. “I’m giving myself five years. Either I’ll make it or I won’t but I owe myself the opportunity. I’ll definitely hit the east coast and try regional theater this summer. After that, it’s head to the Big Apple and aim for off-off-Broadway or move three thousand miles to LA.”

“You did the regional circuit last year, right?” Bob asked.

“I did. Acted in four plays. Did stage work for another five. The pace was grueling but it taught me a lot. It honed my memorization skills and gave me an opportunity to do both comedy and drama.”

Bob stuck out his hand. Wynn shook it.

“No matter what you do, best of luck to you, Wynn. Go claim that gorgeous girlfriend of yours and celebrate.”

Wynn laughed. “I plan to. See you tomorrow.”

He left the dressing room and hurried to his dorm room. Entering, he saw his brother fussing over a floral arrangement.

“Thanks for picking up the flowers and my jacket, Payne. I owe you,” he said as he slipped into the only blazer he owned.

“Not a problem. I confirmed your reservation at Chez Louis, too. You nervous?”

Payne was the only one who knew Wynn would be proposing to Stephanie tonight. He didn’t know if she’d say yes. If she did, he already knew she wouldn’t wear the ring in public. Stephanie currently wore the Miss Georgia crown and would compete in the Miss USA pageant three weeks from now. She’d already received permission to take her finals early and would miss graduation. Not that she’d been in class this semester since winning the state title a couple of months ago, but Winters College had cut a deal with Stephanie and her parents to award her credit for her last semester based upon all of the activities she was participating in as Miss Georgia. It looked good for the university to have a Miss Georgia come from their ranks, sporting a Winters’ degree.

Pageant contestants had to remain single throughout their reign. Stephanie’s sponsors believed she had an excellent chance to win the national crown, which meant she’d compete as Miss USA in the Miss World competition this summer. If so, they wouldn’t want a ring on her finger during that time and all the questions it might bring up on social media. Wynn accepted this—but he still wanted to ask Stephanie to become his wife tonight before too much craziness set in. Becoming Miss USA would not only allow Stephanie a platform for her issues but give her a high profile, which would help her land the sports broadcasting job she coveted.

Tonight would determine their future plans as a couple, though he’d need to wait to see the outcome of the beauty pageant before deciding the direction of his own career dreams. If Stephanie won the national crown, Wynn was determined to give Broadway a try since she’d be traveling the bulk of the year. Better still, he might land a role in a traveling production. That would be a great way to see the country and hone his acting skills. If she didn’t win Miss USA, he’d need to see where she landed after her reign as Miss Georgia ended. If she got a job at a local news station, he would try to do theater in that city or region. Hopefully, it would be a bigger market like Denver or Dallas, which would afford him more opportunities. Her dream job would be to work for ESPN, which had headquarters from Connecticut to Seattle to overseas.

That was a longshot, though. For now, Wynn would propose and hope Stephanie accepted. They’d been friends from their first day at Winters, when they’d sat next to each other in an English composition class, and then began dating their sophomore year. They were the golden couple of the campus. He would be lost without her.

She had to say yes. She had to.

Removing the small, velvet box from his sock drawer, Wynn popped it open and let Payne inspect the modest solitaire. Stephanie came from money and though her parents seemed to like him, Wynn knew they wouldn’t be impressed with the small diamond. He promised himself he would replace it with something more appropriate as soon as he could afford it.

“You done good, Bro,” Payne complimented. He thrust the bouquet at Wynn. “Go forth and propose.”

He grinned. “You’ve been a great roommate these past two years. Even if you are messy,” he told his brother.

Wynn left the dorm room, slipping the box into his pocket and trying not to crush the tissue-wrapped flowers. He walked across campus with a spring in his step, greeting others with a smile. After four years, Wynn knew a majority of students on campus since the enrollment was under two thousand students and he possessed a knack for faces and names. His role as president of the student senate had put him in contact with a variety of people and he’d made friends easily with other representatives, fellow classmates, and students in the theater productions and math competitions. Working in the campus library part-time had also brought hundreds of people into his orbit. He would leave Winters College with many friends and great memories—but the best would be starting a life with Stephanie Drummond.

He cut through the quadrangle and then walked two blocks off campus to the apartment Stephanie shared with Becky Williams. Most upperclassmen moved from the dorms into frat houses or apartments but Wynn’s scholarship didn’t cover expenses off-campus. He was lucky the college’s financial office honored the free tuition and fees agreement because he was a child of a faculty member. Or had been until his parents perished in a car crash two years ago. Money had been tight ever since. At least with tuition and fees waived, Wynn only paid for room, board, and incidentals.

He reached the parking lot and moved through it, passing Stephanie’s BMW convertible. Chez Louis, the nicest place in town, was over three miles away. They’d need to take her car to dinner tonight. He’d barely scraped together enough money to pay for dinner at the fancy French restaurant after paying for the engagement ring. Nothing was left over for Ubering there and back.

Wynn arrived at the door and took a deep breath. He needed to calm down and not blurt out the proposal. The restaurant would be a better setting for that. Squaring his shoulders, he knocked. Becky immediately answered the door. He was good at reading people and knew something was wrong with her.

“You okay, Becky? Is it—”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she said quickly. “Want me to put those in water?” She snatched the flowers from him. “It’s no trouble.”

As she headed to the kitchen, Wynn said, “Wait. I’d like to give them to Stephanie first.”

Becky faced him. “Stephanie can’t go to dinner tonight. She’s really sick.”

He deflated, thinking of all the planning that had gone into the evening and kicking himself for being selfish. “I understand. Let me go check on her.”

“No!” Becky said, almost shouting at him. She nervously cut her eyes toward the closed bedroom door and back at him. “She told me she doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

Warning bells went off in his head. “I won’t stay long.” He strode to the door, not sure what he’d find on the other side.

Not bothering to knock, he opened it swiftly. The blinds were closed and the curtains drawn. Only a lamp turned to low glowed from the nightstand next to the bed. Stephanie lay in it, her face red, her eyes glassy and feverish. Wynn rushed to her and took her hand.

“What’s wrong, honey? How long have you been sick? Are you run down from all the traveling they’ve had you do?”

She turned her head toward him. “I’ll be fine. Sorry I can’t make dinner tonight. I know you said it was somewhere special.”

He perched on the bed beside her. “We can do dinner anytime.” He placed the back of his hand against her forehead and found her burning up. “You’ve got a high fever. Let me take you to a doc in the box.”

“No,” she said emphatically, pushing his hand from her brow. “Monty’s coming by to check on me.”

Wynn’s stomach sank. Carl Montgomery was a friend from Stephanie’s prep school days in Atlanta. Pre-med and all-knowing, Monty was the ultimate snob and made Wynn feel lower than pond scum.

“You need a real doctor, Steph. Not some wannabe who can’t even call in a prescription for you.”

She jerked her hand from his. “I can’t go to a doctor,” she hissed.

“Why?”

Her nose wrinkled in disgust. She regarded him with a cool stare. “You can be such an idiot sometimes, Wynn.”

This was a side of Stephanie that popped out every now and then. When she was tired. Or sick. Or not getting her way—which was rare. Wynn had always overlooked it in the past.

Did he want this to be his future?

Of course, he did. He loved Stephanie. She was bright and funny and beautiful. They had a lot in common.

“Sorry I’m so dense. Tell me what’s wrong,” he urged, hoping to placate her.

She pushed up using her elbows until she was sitting against the headboard. “I can’t go to a doctor because it might get back to my sponsors.”

“So? You’ve only got three weeks to be in top shape. You need meds in you, maybe even IV fluids, in order to get well and compete. Surely, your sponsors would want that.”

Stephanie grimaced and pushed her arms against her stomach. Fever made you ache but this was beyond a fever. She really looked in pain.

“What aren’t you telling me?” he asked.

“I’m pregnant. Or I was. Monty aborted it.”

Shock rippled through Wynn as he tried to absorb her words. Then anger began to build. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he ground out.

“Because you would try to talk me out of what I did,” she said calmly. “Being Miss Georgia and then Miss USA has been my dream, Wynn. It’s going to open every door I ever thought about. I already barely eat as it is. I’m always working out. I can’t afford to be an ounce over my competition weight, not with how tight my outfits are and what that swimsuit shows.” She looked at him evenly. “That meant no baby.”

“But . . . our child, Stephanie. It was ours. Together. We made a baby. I should’ve had some say in it.”

“I don’t want kids. Ever.”

Stunned, Wynn simply gaped at her. They’d never talked about having children. He’d just assumed she wanted them.

“I want a career. I want to be famous. I want to be on TV, reporting at the biggest sporting events on the planet. Not changing diapers or dragging myself to parent-teacher conferences. I’m going places, Wynn. You can, too. You’ve got so much talent. We make the ultimate power couple. We always have, here at Winters, and we can do it in the real world.”

“You can have all of that—and kids,” he protested.

Anger flashed in her eyes. “You heard me. I don’t want brats. Not any.”

Before, he’d had little doubts about marrying Stephanie. She was self-centered but could still be the sweetest soul on the planet. Hearing her now, though, changed everything. It was as if some space alien had invaded her body.

Wynn stood and the velvet box containing the ring fell from his pocket. Stephanie looked at it and then him.

“How’s the patient?” a voice said.

Wynn turned and saw Monty breeze through the door.

“Move over, Youngblood. I need to see how our girl’s doing.”

He stumbled back as Monty examined Stephanie, turning his head as Monty lifted her gown. “Looking okay, babe. A little red. That’s all. Your fever’s from infection.”

“Then do something about it, Monty. I feel like hell. Like my insides are dribbling outside. Did you botch this?”

“Nah. You’re gonna be fine, Steph.” Monty sat on the bed and said, “Whoa, what’s this?” and popped the box open. Looking over his shoulder, he said, “You’ve got to be kidding. You’d need a microscope to see that little diamond chip.” He turned back to Stephanie. “You don’t need this loser in your life, babe.”

Wynn stepped up and swiped the box from Carl’s hand. “Don’t worry. I didn’t ask her. She won’t be wearing it.” Disgust filled him. “Stephanie’s going places. Without me. You can have her.”

With that, Wynn strode from the bedroom, passed a shocked Becky, and out the door.

 

 

CHAPTER 1

 

Scarlett Corrigan swept her hair into a ponytail and grabbed her keys and coffee travel mug as she headed out the door. This was the first time in two weeks she’d had the energy to do something unrelated to work. A nasty case of food poisoning had knocked her flat on her back—when she wasn’t vomiting. Still, she’d worked on various case files from bed. Once she returned to her law firm, she came home exhausted each night, too tired to work out.

Today, though, the beach called her name. She and Keely were set to compete in a local volleyball tournament. Scarlett finally felt physically strong enough to enjoy teaming with her best friend and taking down some competitors. She looked forward to catching up and hearing how filming was going on Keely and Mac’s latest movie. They’d started shooting the Breck O’Dell screenplay over three weeks ago. She and Keely had constantly traded texts but this would be the first time they’d seen each other since the rom-com shoot began.

As she headed along the PCH, Scarlett thoughts turned to tonight’s dinner. It was time to end things with Chaz Weston. They’d met at a bar association meeting a couple of months ago. Chaz was confident, charming, and boyish, even at forty. With killer schedules, they’d only seen each other sporadically, which suited both of them.

Until now.

At thirty-four—soon to be thirty-five—Scarlett knew she’d arrived at a crossroad. For ten years, she’d been consumed by her legal career, dating casually because she had too much she wanted to do before settling down. Besides, LA was a town where most men sported a Peter Pan complex, never wanting to grow up and assume responsibilities. She’d been fine with that.

Until she wasn’t.

Kids hadn’t been on her radar. She was fine being Auntie Scarlett to her nieces and nephews and spoiling them crazy. Then, one by one over the last two years, her friends all married and started having kids. It really struck her when Keely and Mac wed six months ago. Keely was growing in demand as an actress and hadn’t been looking for love when, out of nowhere, Mac Randall appeared and they fell for one another. The looks those two gave each another gave Scarlett goosebumps. She wanted a man to look at her the way Mac did Keely. She wanted to feel loved and have someone to share her life with, all the ups and downs and in-betweens. Moreover, out of the blue—she wanted kids. Badly. Mac and Keely were trying and Scarlett knew, any day now, they would announce they were pregnant.

Maybe she could be a single parent. Every good man in Hollywood seemed to be taken and Scarlett knew most of them, thanks to being Rhett Corrigan’s little sister. He was Hollywood’s best-known and highest paid actor. His closest friends had married women Scarlett became friends with. Dash DeLauria, Knox Monroe, and Breck O’Dell were all like big brothers to her. They seemed to be the only decent men in the entertainment industry. Since she focused exclusively on entertainment law, she would know.

Turning on her blinker, Scarlett pulled off the highway and into Keely’s drive. She punched in a code and the gate opened. The beefed-up security had been Mac’s idea after their wedding. The paparazzi problem in California only seemed to grow and after what her friends had been through with that nut job Finn Jarvis wanting to kill Keely, Scarlett couldn’t blame them for taking additional steps to protect themselves.

She got out of the car and tapped at the front door. Mac answered, pulling her into a bear hug.

“Hey, Scarlett. Good to see you. Come on in.”

As she stepped inside, Jax greeted her. The basenji raised up on his hind legs and did a ballet pirouette before dashing over to lick her hand.

“Good boy, Jax.” She ran a hand along the dog’s coat.

Mac closed the door. “Come on, Jax. We’re going for a run.”

Scarlett followed him into the living room, with its spectacular view of the ocean visible through a wall of glass.

Keely waved from the sofa, a mug in her hand, and patted the cushion next to her. “Come here, you.”

Scarlett hugged her friend and sat next to her, setting her tote down and propping her feet up on the coffee table.

Mac came over and tenderly kissed Keely. “See you in a bit.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear before he and Jax left out the rear slider.

The sweetness of the kiss washed over Scarlett. She was glad her friend had such a devoted husband. It was another reason to end things with Chaz. He was self-absorbed and, while entertaining, he never would be a man who would cherish simple gestures.

“Tell me everything,” Scarlett said. “How the movie’s going. How making a baby progressing. I want to hear it all.” She stopped. “You’re not dressed yet. You better do that and we can talk in the car on the way to the tournament.”

Keely looked sheepish. “I’m not going.”

“Don’t tell me the producers won’t let you dive for a few balls in the sand,” Scarlett lectured. “I can understand the riders about no motorcycling or jumping out of planes but—”

“I’m pregnant.”

Scarlett’s mouth flew open and then she enveloped Keely in a tight hug. “That’s terrific news. I’m so happy for you and Mac.” She pulled away. “How far along are you?” Ever the businesswoman, she added, “How much longer does the shoot have?”

“This director is out-Sydneying Sydney,” Keely said.

She laughed. Their friend, Sydney Revere, married to Dash DeLauria, was known for bringing in pictures under budget and oftentimes ahead of schedule. “How fast?”

“We’ve been at it a month and are already a week ahead of schedule, which is unheard of in Hollywood. We’re supposed to film another eight weeks. Seven now, I guess. At the rate we’re going, I can see us make up another week. Maybe six weeks or so?”

“Good. You probably won’t be showing until then. Are you sick?”

“Only at night. Weird, I know. They call it morning sickness but I’m fine when I get up. I feel great during the day. I do come home super-tired, though. And then about eight, I start getting queasy and up comes everything. The only thing that tastes good to me now is PBJ.”

“Have you told the director?” Scarlett asked. “At least with a romantic comedy, you don’t have any stunts coming up.”

“I don’t think I’m going to. I’m only four weeks along. That’s really too early to tell anyone, except you, of course. We decided we’d wait until the three-month mark and hope all goes well. If that’s the case, we should be through shooting by then. I won’t sign on for anything new. Mac’s committed to doing Cassie’s screenplay after this and then nothing’s on his calendar until late next year.”

“Oh, the buddy pic all the guys are doing together. I remember.” Scarlett hugged Keely again. “Thank you for sharing the good news with me. I won’t tell a soul. You know I’m airtight about things. It’s the lawyer in me. I’m great at negotiations and poker because I never show emotion or tip my hand. You could look like you have a basketball stuffed under your dress and I’d give you that blasé look as if the status quo had never changed.” She paused. “When you do give the word, let me host the baby shower. With London. She’ll want in on this.”

“You’re on,” Keely said. She rubbed her belly absently.

Scarlett stood. “You’ve inspired me. I’ve got something I need to do.”

Keely frowned. “What?”

“I was going to dump Chaz tonight after Rhett’s casino party.” Determination filled her. “Instead, I’m going to do it now.”

“I inspired a breakup?” Keely looked baffled.

“I’d already decide Chaz was a dead end,” Scarlett shared. “Why wait until tonight? I’ll do it now and be free of worry. I’m serious, Keely. The time has come for me to slow down a little with my career. I want to find love and if I can’t, I’m going to have a baby anyway. We can raise our kids together.”

With that, Scarlett reached for her tote and headed out the door.

***

Wynn Gallagher woke up. Misery washed over him.

“I can’t be Carbon Man anymore,” he said aloud to the empty room.

Carbon Man was the immensely popular comic book character he played in a sci-fi future world franchise. While the two TV series he’d done in his twenties had cemented his reputation as a hardworking, talented professional, the three Carbon Man movies—as well as two crossover films—had made him wealthy beyond imagination. Filming would start on the fourth one in ten days.

Wynn would do anything to get out of shooting it. Anything. Even break his contract.

Was that possible?

He doubted it. Rylon Pictures had hit the jackpot with the creation of the Alpha Tharra Universe, which united unrelated comic books with a series of graphic novels into one futuristic solar system. The concept drew from everything popular with sci-fi geeks and those longing to be superheroes. Rylon had connected these various worlds and then franchised it into something similar to the Marvel Universe. They’d signed three lead actors to personal contracts for a set number of solo and crossover films, Wynn being the first to sign on. The legalese of the contracts had even given Del a hard time to wade through since his specialty was family law. Wynn refused to hire an entertainment lawyer, though. Del served as Wynn’s agent and manager and he knew his brother looked out for his best interests. Del had told him from the beginning to keep quiet about the number of solo and crossover films Wynn had contracted to do. Thanks to that and the Alpha Tharra worlds growing popularity, Del had renegotiated deals twice with Rylon since his part of the franchise had done the best at the box office.

Del admitted after the last negotiation that he was out of his league and urged Wynn to hire an entertainment specialist in the future. Del’s own family law practice had grown steadily and Wynn knew the time was coming when he needed to have someone other than his brother serve as his agent, manager, and attorney.

Could Del find a way out of the mire? Should Wynn even ask him to try?

He pillowed his hands behind his head. He was scheduled to shoot the final solo film and then the last crossover back-to-back. These films were heavy on stunts and drained him physically. It was only luck that gave him this ten-day window as a break to recharge before he buried himself again in months of work. Work that he’d grown to hate. If he put that damned Carbon Man suit on one more time, he might go insane.

Del was great at financial negotiations but Wynn need someone who could pull off a miracle. What he needed was a master entertainment lawyer. One who swam with the sharks and could gobble up all the others before they even saw him coming. Money didn’t matter. Wynn had gobs of it, thanks to Del getting a back end deal with points, along with a percentage of all Carbon Man merchandise.

He sat up and reached for his phone on the nightstand, praying to the gods that Google would provide a clean answer to a messy problem. Wynn pulled up a few articles, skimming them, not finding what he wanted.

Then he clicked on something recent that had been published only six weeks earlier, naming the top attorneys in California in various areas. Bankruptcy. Criminal. Tax. Immigration. Civil rights. International. He scanned for entertainment law and found three names, quickly reading the interviews. When he finished, he knew which attorney he needed to pitch.

Scarlett Corrigan of Lymon McGraw.

Wynn hadn’t considered many of the things she addressed in the feature. She emphasized that with the rapid development of social media and information technology, it was important for an entertainment lawyer to understand and embrace change. He also liked that she had experience not only with actors and studio heads but also repped professional athletes and even a few artists and authors. Her quotes showed she was bright, articulate, and creative.

He wanted Scarlett Corrigan on his team.

Interestingly enough, it revealed she was a younger sister to Rhett Corrigan, the actor Wynn idolized. A decade ago, Rhett had been Hollywood’s biggest action star. Producers were reluctant to cast him in anything outside that genre, fearing they’d lose money. Rhett had bucked against being typecast and done what it had taken to break out and do the kind of roles he longed for. Thanks to his tenacity and the talent he surrounded himself with, he’d become the king of the box office in Hollywood. Nowadays, Rhett Corrigan had his pick of roles and did everything from comedies to drama and biopics to romance. He’d even started his own production company with his screenwriter wife, Cassie, and good friends, actor Dash DeLauria and his wife, Sydney, a top director. Rhett was everything Wynn had wanted to be when he first came to Hollywood—and Wynn looked to the man as a role model.

Quickly, he Googled Rhett, trying to learn anything about the actor he didn’t already know. An article appeared about his charity foundation that raised funds for cancer research. Wynn donated heavily to the American Cancer Society, ever since Payne’s untimely death ten years ago. Skimming the article, Wynn realized he’d donated to Corrigan’s charity event taking place tonight in Beverly Hills at the Montrelle Hotel.

He dialed Cady’s number.

“What?” she huffed, sounding out of breath.

“Are you jogging?”

“I’m jogging.”

“Can you talk and jog?” he teased, actually proud of Cady pounding the pavement. She’d lost a leg in the car accident that had killed their parents and had undergone months of therapy. Once he’d become financially successful, Wynn had sent for Cady so she could live with him. He’d seen she had the best medical care, including the most updated prosthetics available. It amazed him what she could do.

Cady sniffed. “I can multitask, Wynn. You know better than to ask. Hold on.” The line went silent ten seconds. “Ah. Okay, I had to drink some water. What’s up?”

“Didn’t I make a donation to Rhett Corrigan’s cancer foundation this year?”

“You did,” Cady assured him. “You have for five, maybe six years. It comes with an invite to the big fundraiser.”

“A casino party. It’s tonight. I just read about it.”

“I know. You never go. I’ve stopped asking you because you never go anywhere.”

“Can I still get in?”

“You definitely have a bungalow for the night. That’s part of the package if you give at a certain level. I RSVP’d no so you won’t have a seat at the charity dinner. I’m sure you could still get into the party. It would be a real coup for you to be seen there since you’re like a monk as far as getting out in public goes.”

“I want to attend the dinner. And I want to sit at Rhett Corrigan’s table,” Wynn insisted.

“Are you serious?” Cady snorted. “Like I’m supposed to wave my magic wand and make someone at Rhett Corrigan’s table disappear?”

“Well, you can multitask,” he reminded her. “And you’re hands down the best assistant in Hollywood. Come on, Cady. I need this. It’s important.”

“Okay. I’ll take care of it,” she said grudgingly. “I can’t promise you Rhett’s table, though.”

“I’m going only if I sit at his table. Make that clear to whoever’s in charge.”

“All right, Wynn.” She paused. “Can I ask why, all of a sudden, you’re keen to attend an event in Hollywood when you never do?”

“I go to my premieres,” he reminded her, though it was left unspoken that occurred under duress from the studio’s PR machine.

“Enough. Let me finish my run and then I’ll whip out that wand and make the magic happen.”

“Why don’t you pull out your broomstick and fly home so you can get started on making this reality?”

Cady hung up on him.

Wynn grinned. He would get to meet his idol tonight—and let Rhett introduce him to Scarlett.

 

 

CHAPTER 2

 

Scarlett smoothed the skirt of her midnight blue cocktail dress as she swung her legs from the car and handed the valet her keys. It was an hour before Rhett’s gala would start but she wanted to be on hand to help with any last-minute problems. No matter how meticulously the event planning was, something—or someone—always threw a wrench into the night. She loved being a problem-solver and would do whatever she could to make this night go well for her brother.

Entering the ballroom where dinner would be held, she gazed at the elaborate table arrangements and knew how hard the staff had already worked at making tonight successful. Spying Sarah Hartnett on her cell and pacing frantically, she moved in that direction.

“Miranda, the seating arrangements are set in stone. I can’t move him to Rhett’s table. There’s nowhere to put him.” Sarah paused. “Yes, Miranda. Of course.” She ended the call and saw Scarlett standing nearby.

“Trouble?”

Sarah blinked back tears. “I have sweated blood over where to seat everyone. Even those idiots who didn’t RSVP. I called every one of them individually and got commitments and planned and shuffled and balanced to perfection. Now, Miranda tells me she assured Wynn Gallagher’s assistant a couple of hours ago that he could sit at the head table. He wanted to sit at Rhett’s table or not come at all.”

“That’s a coup, Sarah. Gallagher never attends public events.”

“I know. Miranda insisted that he sits at Rhett’s table. It didn’t matter who needed to be moved. You know Miranda.”

Both women said at the same time, “Make it happen,” the foundation head’s trademark motto.

“I can’t lose my job over this but I don’t know where to begin.” Sarah waved the seating chart around in her hand. “There’s literally no empty seat in the entire ballroom. I guess I can pull in another table to start . . .” Her voiced faded.

“First, Rhett would never let you be fired over something like this,” Scarlett assured the assistant. “Second, I volunteer to move. It’s only me tonight.”

Surprise filled Sarah’s face. “Chaz couldn’t make it?”

“Chaz and I gave up the ghost a few hours ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Scarlett.”

“I’m not. I can do better than Chaz. Besides, it solves your problem. Take our two seats for Gallagher and his plus-one and don’t worry about adding another table and shuffling someone to sit with me. I don’t need to eat. I can stand in the back. The casino party always has appetizers circulating and plenty of drinks. I’ll nibble when it begins.”

Relief washed over Sarah. “You won’t have to do that, Scarlett. Wynn Gallagher isn’t bringing anyone with him. I’ll park him in Chaz’s spot. You can sit and make nice with him. Flirt a little. He’s one of the foundation’s biggest donors the past few years.”

“Really? Interesting. I’ll be sure he’s taken care of. Any other crisis to deal with?”

“Thankfully, no, though I do want to check on those vegetarian dinners.” Sarah hugged Scarlett. “You are a life saver.” She hurried off.

“What fire is Sarah running to put out now?”

Scarlett turned and saw Rhett, looking every bit Hollywood’s biggest star in his custom Armani tuxedo. She hugged him tightly, proud to be his sister.

“A little seating snafu but it’s been taken care of,” she said vaguely.

His eyebrow shot up. “Sarah has seating down. I know because I okayed it over a week ago.”

Scarlett linked her arm with his and began moving around the room. “Miranda threw a last minute curveball. Seems none other than Wynn Gallagher decided to show up tonight and he didn’t have a seat. Oh, he wanted to sit at your table, by the way. Or not come at all.”

“Wynn Gallagher? He’s been a steady contributor for several years. I’ve never met him but I’ve wanted to.”

“Why? So you can talk him into letting you and Kyle on the set of a Carbon Man movie?”

Rhett chuckled. “Maybe. Actually, Cadence is just as big a fan as Kyle. Personally, I preferred Gallagher’s work from that medical show he did on ABC. He won an Emmy for that.”

“Two,” she corrected. “And he should’ve gotten one for the legal show he did. I wonder why he decided to attend tonight.”

“No idea,” Rhett said. “He’s a real lone wolf, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing in Hollywood. Staying out of the fray adds a little mystery to an actor, which can add longevity to a career. Where’s Chaz?”

“Gone. For good,” Scarlett declared.

Rhett’s smile revealed his true feelings about the lawyer to Scarlett for the first time. “I’m glad. He wasn’t for you.”

“Why do you say that?” she asked, curiosity filling her.

Rhett stopped and faced her. “Because I only want the best for my baby sister. I have a feeling you’ve hit a point where you want more out of life than strictly having a career, no matter how fulfilling it is. Chaz seemed a little too self-absorbed for you. You need a man who’s your equal and will treat you that way. Someone who’ll make a great partner, friend, and lover.”

“When did you get so wise?” she asked. “I’ve only realized it myself. I do love what I do but my heart wants a family. Love.” She paused. “My biological clock started pounding in my head recently. If I’m not fortunate to find love quickly like Keely or London, I may try to go it as a single mom. Would you be okay with that?”

He wrapped his arms around her. “I’m good with whatever you do. You know Cassie and I will support you in any choice you make.”

Scarlett pulled away and grinned. “Even babysitting?”

Rhett laughed. “Especially babysitting. Cassie would’ve had a dozen babies if she could have. Unfortunately, her insides didn’t cooperate. Still, we’re blessed with our two.” He brushed her hair from her cheek. “You will make a fantastic mom, with or without a man, but let me think about it. Between all our friends, maybe we can set you up with someone.”

“No blind dates for me, big brother,” Scarlett proclaimed. “I’ll either find a guy on my own or pick a sperm donor from some glossy catalog. Right now, I’m thinking smart, a little smart assed, and athletic.”

Rhett laughed. “Who knows? Maybe Wynn Gallagher is meant to be your plus-one in life.”

***

Wynn passed his keys to a starstruck valet and entered the Montrelle. A thin blond with a clipboard stepped in front of him.

“Mr. Gallagher? I’m Amy,” she said brightly. “May I escort you to your bungalow and go over tonight’s schedule with you?”

He gave her friendly nod. “Lead the way.

They entered the luxury hotel’s lobby and crossed it, veering off to the right and down a hallway that led back outside. Lush landscaping surrounded the pathway, dominated by pink bougainvillea.

“You’re in Bungalow Nineteen.”

I was nineteen the year Mom and Dad died.

“The silent auction starts at six and will close at ten this evening. Items are located on the perimeter of the ballroom and outside it. Cocktails will be served at six-thirty in Salon B.”

Amy swiped the keycard and opened the door of the bungalow, gesturing for him to enter before her. Wynn stepped in and she followed, handing him the card.

“Everything takes place on the mezzanine level. Dinner is at seven in Ballroom A, directly across from where you’ll have cocktails. The casino party is from eight until eleven in Ballrooms B and C.” She beamed at him. “The Montrelle is delighted that you decided to attend tonight’s festivities, Mr. Gallagher. In case you want to entertain in your bungalow tonight, iced champagne and an assortment of fruits and cheeses will be delivered at ten this evening.”

Wynn started to tell her not to bother but hesitated. He didn’t plan on spending the night at the Montrelle but who knew what kind of opportunity might arise tonight.

“That sounds fine, Amy. Anything else?”

“No, sir.” She passed a laminated card to him. “This contains the schedule for tonight’s events.” Next, she gave him a brochure. “This lists all the items available in the silent auction. You’ll be situated at Table One with Mr. Corrigan. If you need anything tonight, please ring the front desk and they’ll contact me.”

“Thank you.” Wynn escorted her to the door and saw her out before sinking into a striped sofa.

It amazed him that he’d actually gone through with it and come. Of course, with all the trouble Cady must have gone through to get him at the head table, he knew if he didn’t show up, his sister would serve his head on a platter. She did so much for him. Maybe he could bring her some kind of souvenir from tonight.

He wondered what Rhett Corrigan would be like. The actor had a reputation for always knowing his lines and treating everyone in the cast and crew with respect. He also was known as a family man, with a tight circle of friends that included both actors and non-Hollywood types. Wynn wondered why Rhett had started a cancer research foundation. Most likely, he would find out tonight.

Reaching for the remote, he clicked on the TV and found the Dodgers game. It was late August and they were still in the hunt, tied for the division lead. When the game went to commercial, Wynn picked up the brochure and glanced at the items available for bidding, thinking he might find something for Cady. Quickly, he saw no low end items. They ranged from luxury cars to jewelry to several fantastic vacations. One that caught his attention was a trip to England. It included four days spent sightseeing in London and then another seven on a walking tour through Kent and the Cotswolds. Wynn had never been to England and this appealed to him immensely. Though a mathematician at heart, he had a deep love of history and would enjoy seeing all the places mentioned in the description. To walk through the peaceful English countryside without a care in the world called to him.

He would bid on this. No, he’d win it. The tax write-off would be nice and the money would go to a good cause. If he had to do the damned superhero movies, the least he could do is have this waiting for him when filming ended. Maybe he’d even find a cottage in a remote spot and buy it. In Cornwall, like Gabriel Allon in the Daniel Silva books. Wynn could try living in solitude for a year. No acting. Just walking. Reading. Swimming. Thinking. He owed it to himself after the nonstop ride he’d been on for almost fifteen years.

Glancing at his watch, he saw it was six-forty. He hadn’t planned on attending the cocktail hour but he better make his way down to the ballroom for dinner. He slipped the keycard into his jacket pocket and followed the path back to the main hotel. An escalator took him up the mezzanine. Clumps of well-dressed people stood with drinks in hand while others made their way into the ballroom. Wynn followed them inside.

“Mr. Gallagher?”

He turned and saw a young woman in her mid-twenties, with a freshly-scrubbed looking face that pegged her as a Midwesterner.

“I’m Sarah Hartnett, an assistant with the Corrigan Foundation. I’d be happy to escort you to your—”

“That’s not necessary, Sarah.” A tall, rail-thin woman with sleek hair and bedroom eyes stepped up and offered her hand. “Miranda Jones, Mr. Gallagher. I’m head of Rhett’s foundation.”

Wynn shook it and made a point to lean around Miranda and say, “Thank you, Sarah. I’m sure you had difficulty with my eleventh hour seating request. I appreciate you making it happen.” Wynn knew it wasn’t the Mirandas of the world that did the heavy lifting. It was their assistants who rarely received recognition for their efforts.

The assistant flashed him a grateful smile. “It wasn’t a problem, Mr. Gallagher.” She turned away.

Miranda slipped a hand through his arm. “You’re this way, Mr. Gallagher.”

“Wynn,” he prompted, though he didn’t like how this woman had swept in and brushed off her assistant.

“Wynn then. We are delighted you could make it tonight.”

Inhaling her strong perfume almost made him gag but Wynn was an actor above all else. He engaged in small talk as they crossed the large ballroom and Miranda delivered him to the head table, where several people were taking their seats.

“I hope to see you at the casino party,” Miranda purred. She released his arm and strutted away.

The evening’s host rose from his chair. “Rhett Corrigan.” He offered his hand and Wynn shook it.

“Wynn Gallagher. It’s truly an honor to meet you.”

“You’ve made a successful transition from small to big screen, unlike many actors. That’s no small feat,” Rhett complimented.

“And you broke out of your action mold to do the kind of films you wanted to make. You’re a role model to me, Rhett.”

The actor looked pleased. “Thanks, Wynn. I know I’m going to sound like a fan—and I am—but could we take a selfie together? My kids adore Carbon Man. My stock would rise sky-high in the Corrigan household if I were standing next to you.”

Wynn laughed. “Not a problem.”

Rhett slipped out his camera and took the shot. “Thanks. The kids are too young to see most of my movies so they don’t know how cool I am. To them, I’m just the old guy who embarrasses them.”

He laughed. “I hate to tell them but I’m not cool, either. Carbon Man is the cool guy.”

“Hello, Wynn.” A beautiful woman with copper hair appeared at Rhett’s side and he slipped an arm around her waist.

“Wynn, this is my wife, Cassie.”

“I’m a great admirer of your work,” Wynn said. “You’ve taken Hollywood by storm this past decade.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m impressed by your resume, as well. Both of your TV series were favorites of mine and as Carbon Man, you’ve brought some subtle nuances to the stereotypical action hero. Don’t get me wrong. I like action in a film but you’ve shown some moments where the audience can see a great vulnerability within you. It’s a struggle that others can relate to. Not obvious, but it’s there if you look deep enough.”

Her remarks caught Wynn off-guard. “I’m grateful you’ve noticed. I’ve fought hard with each director trying to humanize Carbon Man and make him different from the usual superhero. Not many people notice. They’re all about the explosions.”

Cassie looked at him thoughtfully. “When your commitment to Rylon ends, come see us at RCDS. Breck O’Dell and I have just started writing something. I can actually see you in it. We’ve had a little trouble with the direction we want to take it.” She paused. “In fact, come meet with us next week. We could have dinner. Breck’s in Vegas now because Jo is doing a three-week stand on the Strip. He could easily miss one show and fly in to meet you.”

Wynn’s heart pounded fiercely. “You’re serious. You just met me and want to take a meeting regarding a future movie.”

Cassie shrugged. “I like your work. I read people well. I think you want more than being Carbon Man. Maybe Breck and I could help with that.”

“About that,” Wynn began. He glanced to Rhett. “I read an article featuring your sister. I’m in need of an entertainment lawyer. The thing is, I’m tired of being Carbon Man. I’d do pretty much anything to get out of my contract.”

Rhett’s brows shot up. “I see.” He glanced over Wynn’s shoulder. “Say no more.” He reached out a hand. “Scarlett, I’d like you to meet Wynn Gallagher. He’s in need of representation. It sounds like it could be messy and impossible.”

Scarlett Corrigan flashed Wynn a smile. “My favorite kind of client.”