“Colette would actually suit you,” he said with a thoughtful expression.

“I love your movies,” she said softly, feeling stupid as she said it. She had met hundreds of celebrities and famous people in her lifetime, many of them actors and important stars, but sitting across the table from him in her sister's kitchen, she felt awkward and shy, particularly since she watched his films so often and loved them so much. He was her favorite actor, and she had had a crush on him for years. She would have felt incredibly stupid if she'd admitted that to him. And now they were both staying in her sister's house. That wasn't the same thing. Now she had to treat him like a real person, instead of gawking at him on the screen.

“Thank you for saying that, about my movies,” he said politely. “Some of them are awful, and some are all right. I never watch them myself. Too embarrassing. I always hate the way I look, and think I often sound ridiculous.”

“That's the sign of a great actor,” she said with conviction. “My father said that. The ones who think they're wonderful never are. Sir Laurence Olivier didn't like his performances either.”

“That's reassuring,” Leslie said, looking at her sheepishly as he sipped his coffee. The sleepless nights he'd had, thanks to his ex, were catching up with him, and he was dying to get to bed and sleep, but he didn't want to be rude to her. “Did you know him?”

“He was a friend of my father's.” He knew who her father had been, and who her mother was, since he knew Jane. And he could see why they'd be upset that she was a dog-walker and lived at the beach, but he could also see why she would want that too. They were a lot for anyone to contend with, and he was fond of Jane, but she was a powerful woman. This girl with the auburn hair and green eyes looked like a whole different breed. She was a gentler soul. He could see it in her eyes and sense it in her manner.

She could tell that he was tired and offered to show him to his bedroom. He looked grateful when she said it, and she walked him upstairs to the main guest room, which was next to the master suite. She knew that Liz slept there occasionally when she was working late on scripts. It was a big, beautiful room with a spectacular view of the bay, but all Leslie could see was the bed, beckoning to him. He wanted to take a shower and sleep for the next hundred years, and he said as much to her.

“I'll bring back groceries in case you're hungry when you get up,” she said kindly.

“Thank you. I'll just take a shower and go to bed. See you later then,” he said as she waved and bounded down the stairs. She let the dogs back in as she left, ran out the front door, and got into her ancient van. She drove off a moment later as he watched her from the window and smiled. What a funny, lovely, unspoiled girl she was. And what a breath of fresh air to meet someone like her after the nightmare he'd just been through.





Chapter 3

Coco picked up the toy poodle and the Pekingese she always walked on Saturdays. After that she went to Safeway and stocked up on everything they might need. She could live on lettuce leaves and takeout food, and had been for two years, but with a man staying at her sister's house, she felt some obligation to supply more substantial fare. She figured that Jane would expect her to. So far Leslie Baxter seemed like a very nice person. She still couldn't quite get over his staying at the house with her, and wished her sister had warned her who was coming, other than an anonymous “Leslie” who was fleeing a psycho ex-girlfriend. Who knew it would turn out to be him? At least it would liven up the house for a few days while he was there, although given his phobia about dogs, she couldn't leave Jack with him and go home for the weekend, which she had hoped to do.

It was three o'clock by the time she came back with the groceries, an early edition of the Sunday paper, and some magazines for him. She suddenly felt obliged to play hostess and not just house-sitter, although she'd gotten off to a bit of a rocky start with maple syrup and broken glass everywhere. She was impressed that he'd been such a good sport, and had even helped her clean it up.

The house was strangely quiet when she walked in. She assumed that he was still sleeping, and the dogs had apparently tucked themselves in somewhere to do the same. So she unpacked the groceries quietly in the kitchen, and gave a start when he walked in. He was wearing a clean white T-shirt and jeans, with his very elegant, very English-looking brown suede shoes. Ian had only owned Tevas and running shoes. He didn't need anything else except hiking boots. Everything he wanted to do was involved with the outdoors, and she had shared that with him. All her mother had ever worn when she was growing up were four-inch heels. And they seemed to get higher every year.

“You're already awake?” she asked, as she put the last of the food away, and turned to look at him with a smile.

“I never went to sleep,” he said ruefully, and she looked surprised.

“How did that happen?”

“Someone beat me to it.” He beckoned her to come with him, and she followed him up the stairs to his room, faintly worried. Maybe Jane had invited someone else too, without telling them, and they had taken over his room. But she laughed as soon as she stood in the doorway to the guest room. Jack had sprawled out on the bed when Leslie was in the shower. He had his head on the pillow, was spread across the bed, and was snoring loudly. Sallie was nowhere to be seen, but Jack had made himself totally at home. “I didn't want to argue with him about it. I checked out your room, out of curiosity, and the other dog is asleep in there.”

“She's mine,” Coco explained with a grin. “This is the lord of the manor, it's his house. His name is Jack, although my sister doesn't let him sleep on the beds. He only does that when I'm here. He knows.” She walked quickly toward the bed, patted the huge dog to wake him up, and pulled him off the bed. He looked very unhappy to be so rudely awakened, and headed toward the master bedroom to join Sallie. “Sorry.” Coco looked at Leslie apologetically. “You must be beat.”

“I dozed a little on the couch. But I have to admit, a real bed will feel good. I slept in my car last night. And hid out at a friend's the night before. L.A. is a little too small for both of us just now. She's nuts,” he added, instinctively touching his cheek. “She's rather a big star, and she packs a hell of a punch. She does her own stunt work in action films.” Coco knew who he'd been dating from the tabloids, but admired him for not saying her name. He seemed very polite. “I rented out my house six months ago, for a year. I've been living with her. I'm going to have to find an apartment, once I get my bearings. I've never been mixed up in anything so crazy in my life.” He grinned at her sheepishly. “First time I've ever been slugged by a woman. Then she damn near killed me with her hair dryer, she threw it at me. When she threatened me with a gun, I figured it was time to leave. Never argue with a psychopathic woman with a gun. Or at least, generally, I try not to.” He still looked a little shaken as he smiled.

“What got her so pissed off?” Coco asked cautiously. It was a lot more exciting than her life, or than she even wanted to imagine. Ian had been the gentlest man in the world, and their arguments had been brief, respectful, and harmless. She had had relationships that ended before him, but never badly. But she had heard plenty of stories from her father over the years of his famous clients being pursued by stalkers and psychopaths.

“I'm not sure,” Leslie said in answer to her question. “She wanted to know which of my costars I'd gone out with, and then she got into a jealous rage about it, even though I explained that they were over. She kept insisting that I was going to get involved with the next one, and then she went nuts. She had a little problem with the bottle. It was all a bit over the top, to say the least. She called me on my cell and said she was going to kill me. I believe her. So I left town.”

“Maybe you need to stay a little longer than a weekend,” Coco said seriously, although it sounded typical to her of the madness she hated in Hollywood and L.A. She couldn't have lived like that herself. It was too high a price to pay for fame. “Guns and alcohol aren't such a great mix.” He nodded. He hadn't figured out what he wanted to do yet. He had called Jane to tell her about it, since Jane knew her and had worked with her, and he had wanted her assessment of just how crazy the woman was, and how dangerous she might be. Jane had suggested he get out of Dodge, and go up to their place in San Francisco. It seemed like a good idea at the time. He didn't want to run into this woman anywhere right now, and in Los Angeles, he might. Jane thought she was even more dangerous than he feared.

“I've never had anything like this happen,” he said, looking embarrassed. “My past relationships have always ended on good terms. I'm friends with all of them. None of them ever wanted to kill me, or at least not that I know of.” He sounded incredulous as he said it.

“Did you call the police?” He shook his head in answer.

“I can't. If I do, it will be all over the tabloids and that will make it even worse.”

“My father had a death threat once, from a crazy client, when I was a little girl. He called the police and they gave him guards around the clock for a while. I was terrified the actor was going to kill him. I had nightmares about it for years,” Coco confessed.

“Yes, but she probably wasn't an ex-girlfriend. This is the kind of stuff the tabloids love. I don't want to be involved in a mess like that, or cause it. I've got a break between films now. I'd rather just stay away for a while. I might go to New York for a few months. I don't have to work again till October, so I've got time.”

“She'll probably find out you're there. And my sister and Liz aren't coming back for five or six months. You can stay here while you figure it out, and maybe she'll calm down.”

“I think it'll take a lobotomy for that to happen. I'm hoping she gets obsessed with someone else. In the meantime, I'm planning to lie low, and she'll never figure out that I'm here. I haven't been to San Francisco in twenty years. I always see Jane in L.A. We worked on a picture together.” Coco remembered that, although she had never met him with Jane before. But she was aware that they were friends.

“Well, you'll be safe here. And now that Jack is out of your bed, get some sleep,” she said with a friendly smile. It sounded like a nasty story, and he looked shaken up by it.

Leslie thanked her for rescuing him, and as she headed to her own room, he closed his door. She closed hers too. Both dogs were asleep on her bed, and she put the TV on with the sound low. She dozed off for a while herself, and around eight o'clock she went downstairs to make herself dinner. She took some sushi she had bought out of the fridge and made a salad. She was eating it and reading the Sunday paper when he walked in, looking sleepy, and more rested than he had before. He yawned and stretched as he sat down. They were like two shipwrecked people on a desert island. The house was quiet, and it was easy and pleasant. It was Saturday night, and neither of them had obligations or plans.

“Would you like some?” She pointed at the sushi, and he nodded as she got up to get more out of the fridge. And he was instantly on his feet to help her.

“You don't have to wait on me. I'm the interloper here. Thanks for buying food today. I'll get the next round.” They were like two roommates who had wound up sharing a house, and good manners prevailed. He was very English and obviously very nicely brought up. He helped himself to some sushi, and she gave him a plate, and made him a salad, as he thanked her.

“What part of England are you from?” she asked as they ate their dinner, and Jack sat watching them with interest. Sallie had smelled the fish and gone back to bed.

“A little town just outside London. I never got to London till I was twelve. My father was a postman, and my mum was a nurse. I had a very middle-class upbringing, and a very normal home life as a kid. My parents were horrified I wanted to be an actor, and embarrassed by it actually, at first anyway. My dad wanted me to be a teacher, or a banker, or a doctor. I faint at the sight of blood. And I thought teaching was too boring. So I took acting lessons and started out doing Shakespeare. I was bloody awful.” He grinned at her. “Good salad. No syrup?” he teased her.

“I bought more.” She laughed at him. “And waffles.”