One Hot Secret (Love on Fire)

“A lot of people don’t know how ugly it can get,” Grace says hotly, leading me to suspect there might be more to this than she’s letting on.

“And you do?” I ask her in a mildly amused tone.

“Maybe,” she says.

I’m startled by her answer, and I’m not sure where she’s joking, or she means it. “Seriously, have you ever dated a celebrity?”

She laughs. “Who me? Of course not. What would a celebrity see in me?”

“How can you say that? You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, both inside and outside. Any man, celebrity or not, would be lucky to date you.”

“Thank you,” she says. “I knew famous people a long time ago, and every little detail of their lives was published in newspapers and magazines. I think it’s a terrible life.”

I don’t think of my life as terrible, and even though I’m enjoying this interlude of being a regular Joe, I know that it’s not really my life. In my regular life, I stay away from places where I’ll be recognized. Since the accident, however, I’ve enjoyed months of anonymity. Like that actress who had a nose job and looked so different it nearly ruined her career, most people have no idea who I am now.

“Enough about that,” Grace says. “Hey, I want to take you out for dinner tonight to say thank you.”

“Sure,” I tell her.

We get to work, and after a little teasing from the guys in the day room, I head to the changing room. My mind is on the disturbing conversation I had with Grace in the car. What does that mean for us if she absolutely cannot date a famous person?

I see only one way out, and that is to keep my identity secret for as long as I can.

***

“That was a long day,” Grace says later as we head home.

“It was.” Today was really tough. I saw a lot of accidents in the ER, but I’ve never seen anything as gruesome as I did today.

Our first call was to respond to an accident on the highway that ended in a fatality. It involved a trailer and a Corvette. A three-inch piece of metal flew through the windshield of the corvette and embedded itself in the driver’s chest. Then there was a fire in a nursing home, and two old men lost their lives from smoke inhalation.

“Do you still want to go for dinner tonight?” I ask Grace when we reach her apartment.

“Yes,” she says. “It would be nice to unwind.”

“I’ll pick you up in an hour,” I tell her. “Can I use your car again?”

“Sure, no probs,” she says, and a jolt of guilt hits me at her kindness.

“Thank you.” My voice catches. I’ve never been in a situation where someone is being kind to me and getting nothing out of it. I’m so used to people fawning and sucking up that I forgot that genuine kindness exists.

“You’re welcome and see you later.” She plants a kiss on my mouth and leaves the car.

I should go home and relax for a bit and then get ready for dinner, but I need to talk. I drive west of the city to Greg’s gallery. He’s the only one of my friends who has seen me after the accident and knows how I look.

He was a good sounding board, when everyone, including my agent and publicists, was piling on the pressure to have more surgery to return my face to how it looked before. Between Greg and I, we concluded that at this stage of my career, my talent spoke for itself. I’ve been in at least fifty movies. My looks were altered permanently unless I went under the knife. My fans would get used to the new me.

I find a parking spot and stroll to the gallery entrance. I head straight to the stairs and take two at a time. On the second floor, his secretary stares at me blankly when I smile at her. I remember in time that she hasn’t seen my new look.

“Hi, my name is Jack Acker, and I’d like to see Mr. Forbes regarding some art pieces he might be interested in.”

“Is he expecting you?” she says coolly. This is the not-so-nice part about having a regular face. Now I know what they mean when they talk about gatekeepers. I’m going nowhere unless I pass Greg’s secretary’s test.

“He is,” I say confidently.

That seems to convince her, and she pushes her chair back and marches to Greg’s office. I tap my foot impatiently. Moments later, the door swings open.

She holds it open. “He’ll see you.”

I grin, and her expression changes as she tries to place me. I quickly wipe the smile from my face. My smile is the one thing that did not change. I step in and shut the door.

Greg stands up and comes around to man-hug me. “You’re lucky I remembered that stupid name you chose.”