To keep him from hanging up, because some tiny part of her believed she hadn’t been wrong, she said, “So-how’ve you been all week?”

“Fine.” Again his voice was too abrupt.

“Work went okay?”

“The usual challenges. And your scenes with Hugh? How did they go?” As always, when discussing the subject of Hugh, his tone hardened. Which was strange-he’d been so aloof since they’d slept together. Why would he care?

Maybe she should explain about how grueling and unsexy the work had really been. Maybe she should tell Zach that because of him, she’d ended it with Hugh. But she didn’t want to discuss Hugh, not when Zach was in his present dark mood. Not over the phone.

“Sam, our director, says he’s happy. I’m…I’m just glad the week’s over. After Bonne Terre, it felt like the four longest days of my life…because I…I missed you.”

She willed him to say he’d missed her, too, to say anything… When he didn’t, she chewed at the edge of a fingernail.

“Zach…”

“Hmm?”

She took a deep breath. Why was it so impossible to talk to him now when it had been so easy the night after her fall?

“Never mind,” she finally said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” he repeated sternly. “Bob will call you and set a time and place to pick you up.” He hung up after an impersonal goodbye that left her feeling emotionally dissatisfied.

If only he’d sounded the least bit eager to see her.

He’d called, hadn’t he? He’d demanded that she spend another weekend with him.

Maybe she’d given up on them too soon when she’d been younger. She didn’t want to make the same mistake a second time.

“There’s no such thing as bad publicity.” That’s what Zach’s PR guys said. They loved that somebody had stolen the hot love scenes from Summer’s new movie and plastered them all over the internet.

Zach disagreed. Tension fisted around his lungs as he studied the stolen clips of Summer with Jones. She was so gorgeous he couldn’t breathe. Even though she was lying beneath another man, just the sight of her sparkling eyes, tremulous lips, breasts and silken hair got his pulse thudding violently. In an instant, he remembered her looking at him exactly that way and how nauseatingly vulnerable he’d felt when he’d realized there was no way he could make love to her again without surrendering his heart. In one stolen weekend, she’d gotten through every careful barrier he’d spent years erecting, which made her too dangerous to fool around with.

Since there was no way he was ever giving her his heart again, he’d sent her packing.

But that hadn’t stopped him from wanting her.

Hell. She’d plunged him back into hell. That’s what she’d done.

Within minutes of starting the clip, he’d seen more than he’d ever wanted to see of Summer on those satin sheets. Did she have to moan under that egotistical actor just as she had when Zach had made love to her last weekend?

She was just acting.

Or was she?

Maybe she’d been acting in Bonne Terre, in Zach’s bed.

It didn’t matter.

He damn sure hadn’t been acting. He’d been wildly upset that he’d felt so much more than lust for her; furious that he’d experienced the same shattering, soul-deep bond he’d felt for her as a kid.

He knew too well the destructive power of those emotions, so he’d known what he’d had to do. She’d acted hurt when he’d dismissed her, and that had gotten to him, too, but then she was an actress.

He’d lived without her before. He could do it again.

But then, when he’d been missing her the most, his PR guys had come up with the idea to invite her to the ground-breaking, to put a positive spin on an old story by dating her.

His PR guys had handed him an excuse to see her again. So, he’d broken his vow to himself and called her. He’d told himself it was business; it would only be for one night; they’d be in public. He had no intention of sleeping with her again. He’d be safe.

But he’d been lying to himself. He’d called her because he wanted her.

Damn it, he wanted her so badly he couldn’t think rationally. Even as he’d willed himself to forget her and move on, he’d spent the week fantasizing about her lips, her wide eyes, her sweet, responsive body. He’d remembered the same soft expression on her face that he’d just seen captured on film.

He’d been suffering serious withdrawal from his weekend with Summer Wallace.

Zach wished to hell he could cancel her flight. But it was too late for that now. She was already in the air… Probably an hour away. Bob had said they would run into bad weather west of Louisiana. The last thing Zach wanted was to distract Bob when he was flying during a storm.

He knew it would be a mistake to see her again. Even though his PR guys were even more adamant that he court her after the internet clips were released, Zach wanted to make the smart move and avoid her.

He hated the way she tore him in two. Hated the way he’d felt so out of control, during sex and ever since.

He clenched a fist. He knew one thing for sure. Tonight, after the ground-breaking, he would end it for good.

Eight

As soon as Zach’s jet landed on the narrow tarmac nestled between tall pines outside of Bonne Terre, Summer bent over her phone and frowned. She saw dozens of texts and voice-mail messages from Sam and several other producers of Dangerous Man, but none from Zach. Gram and her agent had left messages, too. What was going on?

First, she called Sam, who began ranting about pirated scenes and a lunatic Brazilian hacker, before she could even say hello. He spit out words so fast she could only catch half of what he said.

“But how could this have happened?” she demanded after she finally understood the gist. “And what are you going to do about it?”

“Somehow the kid hacked into my laptop, that’s how, damn it,” Sam yelled. “I’ve got firewalls. She’s fifteen! That little hacker gave away everything. For nothing! Just ’cause she’s got the hots for Hugh. She’s cost us millions. Maybe cost me my job. She’s denying it, of course, but we’ve got her IP address.”

After more of the same, Sam finally wound down and hung up.

Oh, God, had Zach seen the video? With grim foreboding, Summer listened to Gram’s message.

“Everybody’s been telling me about some love scenes you’re in… What’s going on? Call me!”

Of course, Zach had seen them. Taken out of context, the scenes might look pornographic and might compromise the integrity of the movie, not to mention her integrity as an actress. Summer felt violated, but her main concern was how Zach would interpret those scenes.

With a heavy heart, she listened to Gram’s second message.

“You swore to me you weren’t going to take off all your clothes. And what about Zach? Everybody says you’re his date tonight. Call me.”

She hadn’t been nude. A double had been used in the only nude shot.

Press coverage had caused tension at home before. Why couldn’t Gram learn not to believe all the lies that were printed about celebrities to sell newspapers?

It would be nice to have understanding and support from those who loved her and really knew her. But, no, those closest to her were as easily manipulated by the press as everybody else.

Feeling very much abused and in no mood to explain herself to anyone-not the town or even Zach-she shut her phone off and buried it in the bottom of her purse.


* * *

Thibodeaux House was so dark she could barely see it among the trees when Bob dropped her in the drive.

As she was heading up the walk, he called after her. “Hey! Zach just sent me a text. He’ll be here at six to pick you up for the ceremony.”

Fumbling with the keys Bob had handed her, she let herself into Zach’s shadowy house and unset his alarm.

Had Zach seen the pirated scenes? Did he think the worst of her?

Of course, he did. And he was furious, no doubt.

Carrying her bag, she went to her room and threw herself on the bed. There she lay, hugging herself, as she listened to the birds and the creaks of the old house as the light went out of the sky. She knew she should get ready, but she felt too weary to move.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, she heard Zach’s car on the gravel drive. She ran to the window and watched him walk grim-faced toward the house.

The front door opened and slammed. He strode briskly into the kitchen. When she heard his heavy tread on the stairs, she sat up warily. He hadn’t even bothered to check on her.

As if he read her mind, he stopped. She held her breath during that interim before he headed back down the stairs.

Finally, he rapped his knuckles on the door.

“Come in,” she whispered brokenly.

He flung the door open and stared at her across the darkness, his blazing eyes accusing her. When he flipped on the light, she sat up, brushed her fingers through her hair.

“Not ready I see.” His voice was hard and clipped.

“I was tired,” she whispered.

“I can well imagine.” His black eyes glittered coldly.

“I didn’t know what to wear… Or if you’d still want me to go with you…”

“Not go when everybody in Bonne Terre is so anxious to see you?” he said in a low, cutting tone. “Not that you left much of yourself to the imagination.”

“I can explain…”

“I’m sure-but why bother? Besides, my PR guys are thrilled. They say all your internet coverage is great for Torr Corporation.”

He walked over to the luggage rack and unzipped her suitcase. After rummaging through her clothes, he yanked out a low-cut, ruby-red gown that a personal shopper had bought for her in L.A. before she’d known about the pirated love scenes.

“Wear the red. Perfect choice,” he said. “You’ll look the part your legions of fans expect you to play. And you’ll be gorgeous beside me, which is all my PR people care about.”

But what did he care about? Whatever it was, it was devouring him alive.

“Zach, I haven’t seen the videos, so I don’t know exactly what you saw… But I was acting.”

“Save it! I’ll be back down in a minute!”

“Please-I can explain…”

“Sorry. I don’t have time for one of your offscreen Oscar performances. Although you’re good-very good. And you were even better last week-in my bed.”

He slammed the door in her face and was gone. As she listened to him stomp up the stairs, her heart constricted so tightly she was afraid it would shatter into a million tiny pieces. So, he didn’t care how she felt at all.

“You’ll get through this,” she whispered to herself. “You’ve gotten through worse.”

But had she? She’d never gotten over him… Or their precious baby.

Don’t think about that. You’ll go crazy if you do.


* * *

Zach didn’t speak to her on the drive over, and he looked so grim and forbidding she decided it was wise to give him time.

She had done nothing wrong. She’d done her job. Actors acted. She hadn’t made love to Hugh for the camera. Her character had. She didn’t even like Hugh. It wasn’t her fault someone had stolen the video.

Something told her Zach’s mood went deeper than jealousy.

The glow that hung over the trees ahead of them brightened as they neared the construction site. When they reached their destination, Zach parked and helped her out of the car. She drew in an awed breath.

The construction site looked nothing like it had last weekend. Transformed into an enchanted fairyland, it was lit by a thousand lanterns. White tents covered dance floors and a dining area. Champagne was being served by a dozen bartenders. Warm laughter and music drifted through the happy crowd. A podium had been set up in front of a thousand chairs.

No sooner had he stopped his Mercedes than reporters and photographers surrounded them.

Taking her icy hand, Zach led her into the thick of the paparazzi where they were blinded by flashes.

His expression fierce, Zach gave the screaming horde a brief statement and posed beside her for more pictures. Then he’d had enough. She hardly knew how he managed it, but with a wave of his hand, his own people led them past the press and into a cordoned-off area where the music and laughter died. For a full minute, she clung to Zach’s arm, while he braved this fresh crowd gaping at them with stunned expressions.

Before those prying eyes, she began to tremble, feeling the same guilt she’d known fifteen years ago when these same people had thought the worst of her and Zach.

“Easy,” Zach whispered against her ear as he placed a protective hand over hers. Then he signaled his contractor and the band, and the music resumed.

We’ve never done anything wrong, she thought. We were wronged.