Tessa lifted a flat hand to her brow, blocking her eyes from the intense Hawaiian sun, and scanned both men, standing side by side in a huddle of film staff. They were both tall, both muscular and tan, both wearing nothing but white board shorts emblazoned with a red hibiscus pattern. They were also both blond with the same surfer-boy haircut, which was, quite possibly, throwing Tessa the most. Every photo she’d been able to find of Zach Ellis had been obscure at best, but he’d always sported roguish sun-bleached waves.
Which explained Sophia’s blonde curls.
Thoughts of her daughter drew Tessa’s gaze from the set. She pulled her phone from her purse and dialed Abby. While she waited for her nanny to answer, Tessa tugged at the front of her cream silk shell. She was used to DC’s muggy summers, but she hadn’t been prepared to find similar weather in Hawaii—all year long. She certainly wasn’t dressed for it. She’d donned her power suit for the meeting she was determined to have today. She could only thank God that night would fall soon, bringing sweet relief.
“Hey,” Abby answered, her British accent softening now that she’d been in the US for over a year. “Any luck?”
“All I can say is they are definitely called stunt doubles for a reason. Did Sophia like the museum?”
“Some. She definitely fancied their gift shop. You’d better up your game. You don’t have much time left.”
Abby was leaving for a vacation with her family overseas in a little over a week, which wou
ld leave Tessa caring for Sophia on her own. That felt a lot like a double-edged sword at the moment. It would also make following and talking to Ellis difficult. “I’m cultivating last-ditch efforts as we speak. Don’t wait up. I have no idea how I’m going to make this happen.”
“You’ll figure it out,” Abby assured her. “You always do.”
A stream of shrill squeals erupted to her left from a gaggle of teenagers and twenty-something females—all their perfect bodies clad in bikinis. Tessa winced, used her free hand to cover her ear, and walked along the barricades in the other direction. Glancing toward the set, she saw the hunky “twins” had turned toward the crowd. They were in deep discussion with a man wearing a headset and carrying a clipboard, but one of them looked toward the noise and lifted a hand to wave.
Another ear-shattering blast of excitement erupted from the crowd, and the sound skittered up Tessa’s spine.
“What’s all that tosh?” Abby asked. “That’s worse than Sophia’s paint-peeling squeals when she was a baby.”
“Jesus Christ,” Tessa muttered, barely able to hear her own voice. “I’m so not doing this for another day.”
“Ian— Over here— Ian— I love you—” The crowd of women screamed over each other, while others shared genuine awe among themselves. “He’s so hot… Did you see him in that cameo on Law and Order… I met him once, at a bar in LA…”
It went on and on. The only time they were quiet was when security enforced silence during filming.
“Are they really all that?”
Abby’s use of the American slang pushed a tired laugh from Tessa. “You’re asking the wrong woman. You’d be a better judge.”
“Abby,” Sophia called somewhere in the distance. “The commercial’s over.”
Her sweet voice created another pang in Tessa’s heart. She hated spending her meager vacation this way when her work already stole too much attention away from Sophia. She had to finish this. They’d both spent months grieving Corinne. Now it was time for them to move on, the way Tessa had promised her best friend they would.
“The princess calls,” Abby said. “I’d better bugger off.”
Tessa said good-bye and disconnected, sighing as she pushed the phone into her blazer pocket. Then she relented to the afternoon heat and slipped off her cropped navy jacket, folding it neatly over her arm. Standing by the stacked equipment, Tessa couldn’t have been more out of place. But she didn’t care. She had no desire to be one of the bikini-clad women mooning over some untouchable man because of his looks.
When a middle-aged crew member wandered toward the equipment pile, Tessa cracked open her introverted shell the way she did for meetings and congressional hearings. “Excuse me, sir?”
He looked up from his crouched position where he grabbed for a long black pole with a flood light attached to the end. “No,” he said, his voice gruff and annoyed. “I won’t get you an autograph. You should have been here this morning, when they were scheduled to do their meet and greet. Times were posted in the paper.”
“I don’t want an autograph—”
“Good.” He propped one light on his left shoulder, drew out another, and propped it on his right, then stood. His face glistened with sweat, and his weary expression clearly told the story of a long damn day in the heat. “And I won’t get you a key to anyone’s room either.”
“Key?” she asked bewildered, then shocked. “Do people really do that?”
The man laughed. “Where’ve you been, lady? Living under a rock?” He looked her up and down, his scowl indicating he didn’t much like what he saw. “They’re not doing interviews either. If you want an appointment, call the studio.”
“I’m not here for an interview or an autograph or a room key. I need to speak with Zach Ellis.”
The man harrumphed and turned away.
“Wait.” She stepped forward, pressing a hand to the barrier. When he turned toward her, she forced a smile. The apologetic, I’m-really-out-of-my-league-here-would-you-help-a-girl-out smile that had pushed her up the ladder of success faster than colleagues who’d slept their way from rung to rung. “Could you just tell me who is who? I can’t tell them apart.”