The door clicked shut behind them, the room quiet and empty. Her smile dropped. She turned and headed for the private door in the back of the lounge, where her bodyguard, Frank, an enormous Hawaiian man with a shaved head and stone-faced expression, waited. She’d had to hire full-time security after Neighborly Attraction came out last year. She’d played the virginal heroine, who takes her sexy neighbor up on his offer for lessons in seduction. Too many fans had tried to get close enough to teach her more sex lessons. She’d nearly had a heart attack when she’d discovered a strange man naked in her bed in her San Francisco home. Fortunately he’d stayed in the bed, trying to coax her to join him with lines from the movie, while she ran to the safety of her car and peeled out of there.
She went to her penthouse suite, her buzz from the tequila and being with her friends fading. Her huge silent shadow, Frank, followed close behind. There were no adjacent rooms. She had the entire top floor, with Frank in the room directly below hers nearest the stairs. After he did a quick check of her rooms, she told him goodnight and stepped inside the marbled foyer. She moved through the suite, making herself stop and appreciate the opulent accommodations, all done in shades of white and silver with royal blue accents—two bedrooms, each with a king-size bed and walk-in closet, a living room with a big-screen TV and modern geometric paintings, a dining room with seating for eight, a kitchenette, and the best, a private outdoor terrace with a spectacular view of the city.
She told herself to shake off the melancholy. Sure, fame had a price, but she had all of this. And a career she loved. She kicked off her pumps and padded in her bare feet to the master bathroom to get ready for bed. She made herself admire the oversized tub with jets, separate double shower stall, and the long marble counter, stopping when she caught her reflection in the mirror. She almost didn’t recognize herself for a moment. Her shoulder-length hair was dyed dark brown for the movie, and it made her hazel eyes look more brown than green. But it was the haunted, fatigued expression on her drawn face that made her gut twist. She looked as unhappy as she felt. Something she could never, ever let show in public.
She turned her back on her reflection. She could never admit it to anyone.
It was damn lonely at the top.
Her cell vibrated and she pulled it from her jeans pocket. A text from Hailey with the address for the picnic date. She sighed. She had to put an end to this silliness.
Another text came through. Meet him Monday at three.
Hey, she hadn’t agreed to that.
Hailey texted an emoticon blowing a kiss. Claire found herself smiling. She knew Hailey meant well.
She texted back a smiley face. It all felt so normal. Texting silly things with friends. Claire could do that.
Jenny Coleman could do that and more.
Did she dare risk it? The idea took hold, blooming in her mind, filling her with giddy anticipation. He was book club approved. He was Mad’s brother. He always took out women as part of Hailey’s business plan in a perfectly gentlemanly way. The circumstances couldn’t have been more ideal. It was practically risk-free as Jenny. Even if he recognized her in disguise, she could trust him by association not to spill her secret. Probably.
She quickly texted Hailey that she’d be there, turned, and caught her flushed happy expression in the mirror. She would take a chance on being her old regular self. She just hoped she remembered how.
Chapter Two
Jake Campbell was on top of the world. He was the founder and CEO of a global tech company, Dat Cloud, that pioneered sharing and storing of memory-hogging data—pictures, audio, video—with an ease and speed that hadn’t been possible before his data-compression application. He’d worked his ass off to get to where he was today, the company could practically run itself now, and here he was at a rooftop party of some animation studio head, surrounded by the elite few who’d garnered an invitation, when it hit him how very alone he felt. He rubbed at the ache in his chest and gazed out at the view of San Francisco Bay, reminding himself to appreciate the rewards his hard work had given him.
Ever since the company went public, he had more money than he knew what to do with and that gave him options—travel, rubbing elbows with the rich and famous, building his dream house to his exact specifications. But money had some nasty side effects. People always wanted something, approaching with a hand out for donations, investments, or unwarranted child support. The child-support thing pissed him off. It started when he’d been named Silicon Valley’s sexiest bachelor two years ago, a dubious honor given the population of mostly tech geeks. In any case, beautiful women threw themselves at him, but they were only after one thing. Not the good thing either. The pattern was predictable. At first they’d be clingy, hoping for a commitment. Not gonna happen. Not that he was afraid of commitment, he’d been in two long-term relationships pre-sexiest bachelor days, he’d just never met the woman who made him want to settle down. He must be missing that nesting gene. That made sense, actually. No one in his family was in a committed relationship, not even his parents. So, there you go. Basic DNA deficiency.