‘It’s okay, I’m here. Put it onto me if you think it’s dodgy.’
Debs pressed answer. ‘Hello.’
Kat couldn’t hear the voice on the other end. She could only watch the changing expressions on her niece’s face – confusion, disbelief, wonder – and hear her responses. ‘No way?’ Pause. ‘Is this a joke?’ Debs, eyes wide, stared over at Kat. ‘She never said.’ Pause. ‘I’ll tell her. My mates will go mental. And my drama teacher. She’s always banging on about taking us there but never has.’ Pause. ‘For real? Gucci.’ Laughter. ‘Yeah. Bye.’
Kat smiled to herself as saw her niece’s hands tremble as she pushed her phone back in her pocket. ‘Everything okay?’
‘OMG, Kat. Why didn’t you tell me? Zac fucking Edwards.’
‘Language.’
Debs giggled, jumping up and down like a big kid. ‘I mean, I’ve just been talking to Zac Edwards.’
‘What did you have to tell me?’
‘What? Oh, he said you have to bring me down to the studio one day. He’ll show me around. And I can bring my school mates, if I want.’ She put a hand to her head, clearly still in shock. ‘I mean, I can’t believe this, he said he’s looking forward to meeting me.’
Kat could just imagine it. The smooth language. Those impeccable manners. ‘Did he know what Gucci meant?’
Debs snorted, her whole face looking so much more alive than it had five minutes ago. ‘He said something like “Can I presume that’s a positive?”’ She giggled. ‘He’s dead posh, isn’t he?’
‘He certainly is.’ Kat glanced at her watch in horror. ‘And we’re dead late for this blasted film now.’
Debs shrugged. ‘It’s Gucci.’
And then she laughed, and while Kat knew this wasn’t over, that Debs would have some difficult times ahead, at least now, tonight, she was reassured to see her niece with a smile on her face.
Chapter 7
Zac was, unusually for him, running late. Something his bodyguard had been happy to point out when she’d knocked on his hotel room five minutes ago to find him not yet ready. His main bodyguard, he should add, not the tall, silent guy he’d had to put up with Friday night, once at the weekend, and just now on his way back from the studio.
‘Mark said you had another note today, delivered to the studio.’ Kat’s voice echoed through to his bedroom where he was currently dragging a shirt off a hanger.
‘Yes.’ Fear crashed down his spine as he recalled the note. I came to your place to see you. They told me you’d left. Are you avoiding me? It wasn’t so much the words, as the implication. Someone was watching him.
Who? And more importantly, why?
‘Have you had any more thoughts about who it might be?’
His hands stilled, and as his heart began to thump, Zac was grateful for the wall that separated him from Kat. ‘Why do you ask?’ Damn, that wasn’t the right answer. ‘I’d hardly keep it to myself if I had, would I?’
‘Only if you’re a total idiot.’
She’d said something similar before, yet Zac refused to believe he was an idiot. He was an actor trying to protect an image he wasn’t ready to see destroyed on a wild, highly improbable, obsessively anxious hunch.
‘How’s it going with Mark?’ Kat’s voice cut through his paranoid thoughts. ‘I bet you two were chatting away on the journey here.’
Shrugging on the shirt, he walked out to the sitting area where she was waiting, feet up on the footstool, thumbing through the newspaper the hotel conveniently placed outside his room every morning. ‘You know we weren’t.’
She smirked, though the expression slid from her face as her eyes settled on him. Or more precisely, on the part of his chest revealed by the shirt he hadn’t buttoned up yet. He was vain enough to know he looked good without his shirt on – hell, he spent enough hours in the gym working at it. Even more hours recently, since it was one of the few things he could do, without having to call for an escort.
‘Eyes on my face,’ he said mildly.
Of course, Kat being Kat, wasn’t embarrassed to be caught out. ‘Don’t fret, Mr I-can’t-act-a-scene-without-taking-my-shirt-off. I’ve seen it all before.’
‘But not in the flesh.’ He slowly – and yes, deliberately – began to do up the buttons.
‘Not yours, maybe, but I’ve seen plenty of others.’ When his brows shot up to his hairline, she groaned. ‘I was in the army, remember? I’ve seen enough male chests to last me a lifetime.’ As if to prove she was totally unfazed, she glanced back down at the newspaper. ‘So, back to my original question. How are you and Mark getting on?’
Disappointment curled inside him. Ridiculous. Did it matter that she wasn’t interested in him? Wasn’t it better this way? He had enough going on in his life right now without further complicating things. ‘Mark is fine. We’re getting on … fine.’ All of it true. The big guy was exactly how he’d imagined a bodyguard would be. Strong and silent.
Kat burst out laughing. ‘Come on, admit it, you miss my chat when I’m not around.’
He was acutely aware he didn’t just miss her chat. He missed her. ‘Mark is like me. He understands the need for quiet reflection.’ Before she could call him on his bullshit, Zac headed back into the bedroom to retrieve his jacket and tie. When he came back out, she was on her feet.
‘Ready?’
He threaded his tie as he walked towards her. ‘As ready as I’ll ever be.’
She looked at him askance. ‘You’re not looking forward to the launch of your very own brand of fragrance?’
He huffed out a breath. ‘It’s not mine. I’m merely the face behind the name.’ On the back of the success of The Good Guy? the perfume company had done a deal with the film company, and tonight was the big promotional shindig for the launch of a male fragrance of the same name.
‘Ah, but what a face.’
Her smile was teasing but it was hard to smile back. Being idolised for how he looked was an uncomfortable fit. Much like a cheap suit.
‘You need to lighten up by the time we get there,’ she told him once they were in the car. ‘Or they’ll have to change the name to The Morose Guy.’
‘Sorry.’ He settled back into the passenger seat – a hired Range Rover – and wondered at how quickly he’d become used to being driven around. Or was it Kat he’d become accustomed to? ‘Where were you this afternoon?’
‘So you did miss me.’ He saw the moment she became aware that her statement was too personal, and clamped her mouth shut.
‘I missed your driving,’ he corrected, though if he’d thought the comment would have been well received, he might have agreed with her statement. ‘Had you driven me back, I doubt I would be running late.’
‘Ah, good spot. Debs had a parent–teacher meeting at the school, so I agreed to do tonight if Mark covered me for that.’
‘Gucci.’
Kat burst out laughing. ‘You have no clue what that means, do you?’