As he headed towards it, he became dimly aware of a car hurtling towards him in the opposite direction. ‘What on earth?’
He slammed his foot on the brake just as the Jeep Wrangler slipped neatly into the space. Into his space. Taking a deep breath, Zac slowly, calmly – he refused to rush over anything – levered himself out of the car and slid his sunglasses onto his head so he could get a better look at the driver who’d just jumped down from the Jeep. As the slim, dark-haired female turned to face him, the smile on her face faltered.
‘Oh, it’s you.’
‘Yes, Kat Parker, it’s me.’ Any annoyance he’d felt immediately vanished at the sight of the woman he’d spent a tantalising twenty minutes with last night, before she’d disappeared. ‘Do you have something against me?’
‘Of course not, why?’
‘First you drown me in champagne, now you pinch my parking space. I wondered if this was part of some sort of vendetta.’
She tipped her head back and laughed. A spontaneous sound, as natural as breathing yet startlingly attractive. ‘The champagne I can blame on my shoes. The car park space was entirely your doing. You should have been quicker.’
‘Or perhaps you should have been more considerate,’ he countered mildly.
She shook her head, slamming the Jeep door shut. ‘I saw an empty space and I went for it. If you’d wanted it, you should have put your foot down.’ Her eyes flicked over his car. ‘You’ve got a, what, six-litre engine?’
He was ashamed to realise he had no clue what engine size the Aston had. He only knew it was elegant, and he loved elegant things. ‘Probably.’
A grin settled across the face he’d spent an embarrassing amount of time searching for last night. ‘You don’t even know the engine size, do you? Well, whatever it is, it’s wasted if you don’t use it.’
‘I thought I was in a car park,’ he felt compelled to point out. ‘Not a race circuit.’
She laughed again, this time adding a small shake of her head. ‘I remember that about you from last night. You’re funny.’
‘Thank you. I think.’
She moved away from the Jeep and now he could see her trim figure, dressed today in black leggings, black boots and a plain black T-shirt.
‘I see you’ve got your boots on today. Does that mean the public are safe from flying beverages?’
Another husky laugh. ‘I’m not sure about safe, but I’m certainly a lot steadier on my feet. Look, I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got to leg it, I’m late. Good luck finding a place for the Aston.’ Her face lit up with another smile. ‘Fancy cars are a dime a dozen round here, but she’s a beauty.’
Intrigued by her, he watched as she marched quickly towards the Vision Films entrance. What connection did she have to the production company? The fact that she was at the party last night and here again today suggested she worked for them. Film editor? Set designer? She was confident enough to be a director, but he didn’t recognise her. Maybe she was in admin, though it was hard to see her in anything so ordinary. Even dressed as she was, all in black, she was far too … vivid.
Whatever she did, she didn’t have to walk far to it. He, on the other hand, was probably going to end up in the overflow car park. Not that he was against a walk, but preferably not on a hot June morning when he was wearing a lightweight wool suit. Yes, he knew he hadn’t needed the suit. He also knew that linen would have been a more sensible choice. But linen creased, and when Zac didn’t know the person he was meeting, he preferred the armour of a smart suit.
Muttering under his breath, he climbed back into the Aston and blasted the air-conditioning up as he drove slowly around the car park looking for another space.
Five minutes later he strolled through the entrance. Despite the car park altercation, he was still early for his meeting because punctuality was one of his – obsessions was too severe a word – he preferred idiosyncrasies. It was manners not to keep people waiting, just as it was manners to dress well for them and be polite. It was also manners not to tear into someone else’s car park space, but Kat Parker didn’t seem to observe the usual conventions.
Maybe he’d check with reception after his appointment and see if she worked here.
The thought of potentially seeing her again gave his mood a brief, but very welcome lift. Considering everything else that was going on in his life, he could do with another dose of the vital, attractive woman he’d enjoyed verbally sparring with last night.
First though, he had a rather more pressing matter to attend to. Shoulders set, he strode through the swanky marble reception area of Vision Films, trying to ignore the insecurity that pricked, like needles, whenever he was faced with the enormity of the world he was currently inhabiting. His star was on the rise, he was working with a major film production company, yet the doubts and worries continued to plague him. How long would it all last? And when the bubble burst, how damaging would the fallout be?
Christ. He was piling paranoia on top of paranoia. Brushing the negative thoughts aside, he slid a hand into the pocket of his suit trousers and pasted on a smile for the pretty blonde on the reception desk. ‘Good morning, Cassie.’
‘Hey there, Zac.’ Her expression, warm, admiring, was a long, luxurious stroke to his ego. ‘You’re here to see Jerry Collier?’
‘Correct.’ Exactly why the Head of Security had asked to see him, Zac wasn’t sure, though he hoped it had something to do with the note he’d found taped to the door of his apartment yesterday afternoon. Lucky me, it had said. I know where you live. But will it be lucky for you? All neatly signed off with a vivid pink, lipstick kiss. It had been the fifth such note he’d received, each slightly creepier than the last.
Likely it was nothing, of course. By starring in the shock success of last year – the relatively low-budget action film, The Good Guy? – he’d probably simply acquired that miserable celebrity curse: a stalker.
Even so, the idea of someone watching his every move made his stomach turn. He was only just getting to grips with the concept of being famous, and the restrictions that placed on his life. The dread when he noticed he’d been spotted. The interruptions to sign autographs, to take his photo. The worry about the photos he wasn’t aware of. He was a private man, catapulted into a celebrity world where privacy was a luxury. Still, if that’s all this was, a celebrity stalker, he could deal with it. A small price to pay for the joy of being able to make a living from his passion, from immersing himself in another personality. Becoming someone else.
A skill he’d practised for most of his life.
But what if he wasn’t being stalked because he was a celebrity? What if there was another reason behind the notes? That’s what had woken him up in a cold sweat last night.
‘Jerry says to go straight up.’ Cassie’s voice was a welcome interruption to his spiralling thoughts. ‘He’s on the second floor, first door on the right.’ She gave him a coy smile. ‘Would you like me to show you up?’
‘Thank you,’ he answered smoothly. ‘But I’m sure I can find it.’
With a nod and a further flash of his perfect smile, he strode over to the lifts.