“Hey, Fox!” came a husky female voice through the speakers. “It’s Kit. I know you’re back! Wake up!”
Molly’s hand froze in front of the Answer button. Who was Kit?
“Hurry up! The damn paps are on my tail.” An infuriated sound. “Dammit, now I’ll have to find the remote you ga—Got it!”
Molly saw the security light turn green as the gate opened, a black sports car with its top down zipping up the drive to halt in front of the house a short time later. Whoever this woman was who had a remote to the gate, she was about to hit the front door—and she might well have a key for that, too.
Taking a deep breath and hoping against hope she wasn’t about to surprise a former lover Fox hadn’t yet told about his new relationship, Molly walked downstairs to open the door. The gorgeous woman on the other side, her skin a deep golden bronze, had a tumbling mass of midnight hair and a flawless body encased in a sleek emerald sheath.
Pushing her Audrey Hepburn sunglasses to the top of her head to reveal striking amber eyes, she blinked. “You’re not the cleaning service.” Lines marring her forehead. “If you’re a stalker, you’re a very not-crazy-looking one.” The statement was followed by the most miniscule pause. “Love the top.” The other woman gestured at the peach top with a softly-tied bow at the throat that Molly had paired with white capris.
“Are you a stalker?” Molly managed to interject. “A very fashion-conscious one?” The words were meant to give her time to think—because there were few people who wouldn’t recognize the woman on her doorstep.
“Fox wishes.” A snort. “I’m Kathleen Devigny.”
Molly smiled through the nerves going haywire inside her. “I know—I saw Last Flight.” The low-budget adaptation of a heartbreaking novel set in the war-torn Congo had become a global blockbuster, catapulting the actress into Oscar contention. “I’m Molly.”
Kathleen gave her a dazzling smile, perfect and false. “So, Fox isn’t home?”
“No.” Unsure what claim the A-list actress had on Fox, Molly felt acutely uncomfortable—but this was her home now and she had to claim it. “Would you like to come in?”
Kathleen’s hesitation was slight. “Fox’s science-fiction machine does make good coffee.”
“You know how to use that thing?” Stepping back, Molly closed the door behind the other woman. “I haven’t managed to turn it on yet.”
Kathleen laughed, and it was a rich, warm sound, but instinct told Molly the actress was faking it. Not that Molly blamed her. If she and Fox— Molly cut herself off before she could obsess too far in what might be the totally wrong direction, and showed her size-zero guest up the hanging spiral staircase to the second level, Kathleen’s heels clicking on the honey-colored wood.
Since she’d set up her laptop and notes outside, there was nothing in the sprawling open-plan space that flowed from kitchen to dining to living areas to give Kathleen any clue as to Molly’s purpose here. “So,” she said, wondering if the other woman would ask, “shall we try this machine?”
Setting her small purse on the counter, Kathleen walked around to the gleaming steel coffeemaker. “Is that a New Zealand accent?”
“Yes.” Molly watched the astonishingly beautiful actress use the coffee machine with the ease of someone who’d done the same thing multiple times. “I’ve only been in L.A. a few days.”
“What are you into?” Expression polite but distant, Kathleen passed across the first cup of coffee, made another. “My side of the business, or music?”
“Neither,” she said, beginning to believe Kathleen’s standoffishness had nothing to do with seeing Fox in a romantic way. “Come on, I’ll show you what I’m doing at the moment.”
Leading the other woman to the wrought-iron table that sat in a shaded area by the crystalline blue waters of the pool, Molly waited for her to take a seat before angling the laptop so the other woman could see the screen. “Words”—she smiled—“that’s what I’m into.”
Kathleen took a sip of coffee. “What’s your screenplay about?”
Still not fully certain about Kathleen’s place in Fox’s life, Molly thought about how to respond to that cool question, went for honesty. “Are you always this suspicious or only when it comes to people you care about?” When the actress’s expression became even icier, Molly shook her head. “I have no desire to be in any way famous.”
Putting down her coffee, Kathleen took her sunglasses off her head and slid them back over eyes critics were calling “breathtaking in their expressiveness.” “Yet you’re with one of the most famous men in the world.”
“It’s funny how life works out.” That, Molly thought, had to be the understatement of the century.
Chapter 26
Kathleen left ten minutes later, and five minutes after that, Fox called. “Whatever you said to Kit,” he drawled, “she’s convinced you have evil intentions toward my millions.”
Her entire body warmed at his tone. “She’s very protective of you.” Molly understood loyalty; it was why she’d online-researched the heck out of T-Rex behind Charlotte’s back weeks ago.
“We’ve been friends a long time,” Fox said. “I’ve invited her back for dinner tonight—you two will be best buds as soon as she realizes you break out in hives at the idea of my millions.”