“You couldn’t find a more perfect spot for that than here.”
Yet he made no move to leave her to her musings—or continue his solitary walk.
If he was going to ignore her less-than-subtle hints, she’d have to be more blunt.
“That’s true.” She felt around for her own sunglasses, but they were MIA. Drat. In her haste to get down to the beach, she must have left them on the counter in the kitchen. “I don’t want to interrupt your stroll. I’ll leave you to it.” She swung around and took a step in the opposite direction he’d been walking.
“Katherine.”
She froze.
He’d used her full name. Not Kat.
Had he recognized her? Could Charley have revealed her identity to him? Had someone in Hope Harbor spotted her, realized who she was, shared the news with Zach . . . and perhaps the rest of the town?
Stomach sinking, she slowly pivoted back.
Zach removed his sunglasses. Tucked them in his pocket. Raked his fingers through his hair.
He appeared to be as uncomfortable—and distressed—as she was.
But rather than jump to conclusions about what he knew, she ought to let him speak. As Simon had always told her, the less you say, the less likely you are to put your foot in your mouth—or supply the tabloids with fodder.
Not that Zach was one of those obnoxious tattle-sheet reporters, but following Simon’s advice couldn’t hurt.
He didn’t leave her guessing long.
“I know who you are.”
Suspicion confirmed.
Shoulders slumping, she massaged her temple. “Who else knows?”
“No one that I’m aware of.”
“Did Charley tell you?”
He frowned. “Charley knows your real identity?”
That answered one question—but raised another.
“He saw through my disguise. How did you find out?”
She listened to his brief explanation.
“I didn’t hang around to hear details, Katherine. As soon as I realized it was a personal conversation, I left—but there are stories about you all over the net.”
A wave of nausea rolled through her. “And you read them.”
“Not every one. That would have taken hours. But I skimmed a few. Enough to fill in the big picture of your career and get the gist of what happened a few weeks ago.”
Meaning he knew not only who she was, but also the particulars about her so-called romance with Jason and the questions surrounding his death.
At least he didn’t make any snide comments or bombard her with questions, which was kind.
Far kinder than anyone other than Charley had been who knew her identity. To a person, the Hollywood crowd had pressed for details.
And despite Simon’s attempts to deflect as much of the prying as possible, the paparazzi had been everywhere, all hungry for the latest update and every intimate detail.
“I’m sorry for all you’ve been through.”
At Zach’s quiet expression of empathy, her vision misted. No one had spoken to her with such concern, such caring, in longer than she could remember.
“And if you ever want a sounding board, I’m available.”
No demands. No browbeating. No hint of judgment as he added that offer.
Just compassion.
Moisture brimmed on her lower eyelids. Spilled over her lashes. Tracked down her cheeks.
Not good.
She had to get a grip. Temper emotions that could cloud her judgment. Zach had been through enough trauma with his own family. Dumping her woes on him would be selfish—even if she was desperate to talk with someone who would listen without criticizing or dictating.
Fisting her hands at her sides, she gritted her teeth and fought the impulse to cave.
“Hey.” He closed the distance between them. Touched her arm. “I meant what I said. I’m here if you need a friend.” He motioned to the sun-bleached log where he’d been sitting on her first visit to the beach. “You want to join me there for a few minutes? You don’t have to talk if you’d rather not, but sometimes just being around a person who cares can help.”
“I don’t want to ruin your day. I’ll be f-fine.” But the catch in her voice belied her assurance.
“You won’t ruin my day. I like being with you, no matter the circumstances. And I know all about facing trauma and life-changing decisions alone. It’s not fun.”
No, it wasn’t.
Katherine caught her lower lip between her teeth and eyed the log on the isolated stretch of beach, a wave of longing sweeping over her.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful to sit there in the sunshine with Zach, pour out her doubts and fears and questions? Talk through options? Find answers?
The latter was a tall order.
Too tall.
Resolution was far too much to expect from an unplanned encounter on the beach.
But as long as he knew who she was . . . had boned up on her history . . . was willing to talk . . . what could be the harm in taking him up on his offer? She could fill in the gaps in her story, bounce a few thoughts off him, get his take.
The answers to her dilemma would have to come from within, but as Zach had said, he’d faced a similar quandary—minus the scandal. It was possible he could offer a helpful insight or two.
Go for it, Katherine. You’ve been craving a confidant. This may be the answer to a prayer.
Charley could be a candidate for that role too—but as far as she knew, his experiences didn’t parallel hers as much as Zach’s did.
Yet if she trusted Zach with her story . . . if she took a leap of faith . . . would she be sorry later?
Maybe.
Call her cynical, but after being burned by dispensing trust too freely on the early road to stardom, her self-defense skills were well honed.
Zach waited while her internal debate raged. He didn’t push. Didn’t cajole. Didn’t try to argue his case.
He was leaving the choice up to her.
And she had to make it now.
Keeping his posture relaxed, Zach watched the play of emotions on Katherine’s face.
The verdict was still out on her decision about whether to accept his offer.
Understandable.
If even half of the stories about Hollywood backbiting, undercutting, and ruthless ambition were true, she’d be more than justified in questioning the wisdom of opening up to a man with whom she’d spent a mere handful of hours.
Yet all at once, the tension in her features melted away. “If you can spare a few minutes, I wouldn’t mind company. After going twelve rounds with Simon, I’m a bit battered and shaky.”
That analogy didn’t sit well—and it added yet another question to his growing list.
For the moment, though, he back-burnered that concern. “I have nothing on my agenda for the afternoon other than tending to a beef tenderloin in a little while. We can always resume our conversation after that if we run out of time.”
Hoping he wasn’t making a major tactical error, he gave in to the urge to twine his fingers with hers.
Despite her sudden, sharp intake of breath, she didn’t pull away as he led her toward the log.
The temptation to hang on to her hand was strong—but pushing his luck would be foolish. Instead, he released it as soon as they were seated. But he stayed close, leaving no more than a few inches between them.