Tammy wiped the corners of her eyes.

“Apparently he was carrying a pack of shingles and slipped. He fell like eight feet.”

Marie grabbed the box of tissues that was on the table in the waiting room and took the seat next to her. “He’ll be all right. He’s tough.”

It took about an hour, but I was relieved when we were finally able to visit with him. I almost wanted to cry seeing him bandaged up with a big white cast on his arm. Pete gave me a weak smile, as if he were embarrassed. I slipped my hand into his and he squeezed my fingers while I tried not to think about how bad this day could have been.

The large purple lump on his forehead and a few cuts near his eye were frightening reminders of how things could have turned from broken bones to tragedy.

Chapter 16

Limelight

I climbed into the large, black Suburban that had been dispatched to take us to the MTV

Movie Awards; I was holding the edge of my thigh-revealing dress so I wouldn’t accidently flash my undies. Thoughts of my friends, of Pete’s slow recovery and that I wasn’t there to help, were with me even though my friends were thousands of miles away on the other side of the States.

I sat quickly in the single seat, ridding myself of my stilettos to make the climb into the bench back seat easier, tamping down the budding nervousness growing from the anticipation. Ryan climbed in behind me, looking devastatingly gorgeous. He was wearing fitted black jeans, a black V-neck tee, a gray blazer, and his game face. The scent of his cologne was enough to make me want to strip him bare and nuzzle his neck for a few hours.

He leered over at me, smirking with those wet lips that knew my secrets, reminding me that all of this celebrity ass-kissing, management team ordering, fan-pleasing hoopla came with the game.

“What?” His question came out as a low, hungry purr.

All I could do was smile and keep the overwhelming

craziness

in

perspective.

Nuzzling his nakedness would come later. I bit my bottom lip, thinking about rolling my tongue over all of his secret spots. My mouth was actually watering from thinking about it.

His eyes darkened. “I like the way your mind works. Can you hold that thought for a few hours?”

Mike cleared his throat and by his private little chuckle I could tell we weren’t discreet enough.

David sat in front of me, playing with his Rolex again, going over the details of our evening. Trish sat in the single seat in front of Ryan, reviewing some papers and then giving Ryan the rundown of what was expected at our arrival.

I could tell by his concerned look that he was more worried about me than another public appearance. Leaning his head toward me, he softly asked, “You okay?” My mind initially screamed “hell no” after seeing the huge crowds gathered. Instead I nodded sharply, giving him my most assured smile. “Oh sure. This is old hat,” I joked. I felt the warmth of his hand when his fingers laced with mine.

Ryan gave me a tug and a trademark smart-ass smirk, finding the humor in my response. “Old hat. Cocky. Love it.” That still didn’t ease the stranglehold of nervous excitement twisting my stomach as we slowed in the line of cars depositing other celebrity attendees. Mike, David, and Trish exited the car first and closed the doors. Ry-an and I slid to the middle seats by the doors, where I put my shoes back on, waiting for our cue to exit. Mike would not let us get out until our other security escort was present and he’d had an opportunity to do a scan of the scene. I knew the drill: stay in formation, keep moving. Mike was always positioned behind Ryan on his right side.

Ryan was agitated by the sheer number of people milling about. “I’m not talking to any press.” He growled a low reminder at Trish when Mike opened his door.

No sooner did his toe hit the ground than people started screaming and yelling for his attention. It was so comforting when he turned back to take me by the hand; I knew we were going in as a team.

“We’re to the left for press photos,” Trish advised, steering us toward a huge wall with the MTV logo and year printed in a repeat pattern.

I wanted to let go of his hand so I wouldn’t have to pose for pictures. This wasn’t about me being here; I had come to terms with that. This was all about the celebrity making an appearance that drove the frenzied crowd to near madness. Ryan faltered a bit, unsure at first of what was expected of him. There was always someone instructing, guiding, telling him to go there, stand here, head in that direction. No matter how many times he’d done this before, I could see through the façade that he was nervous.

I watched him take a deep breath and steel his shoulders. In an instant, my humble lover transformed back into the revered A-601

list movie star. He posed his body with em-powered confidence, gave his signature smirk smile, and oozed that natural sexiness that was so graciously captured in thousands of pictures.

It was difficult not to be awed by it.

I panned the entire crowded entrance, the beginning of the red carpet, scanning for familiar faces, for danger, for clarity in the chaos. I stood back while Ryan posed in front of the wall for the throng of photographers.

He was moved down the wall in what seemed like five-foot increments while photographers shouted for him to turn in their direction.

When he got to the end of the wall, I could see the glaze forming over his eyes from enduring flash after flash.

He held out his hand to me, reclaiming his hold.

“We have—” David started, but Ryan cut him off, tugging me back to the space he’d just occupied on the wall. His hand slid to my ribs, pulling me into his side where I fit perfectly, posing us for the cameras.

My nerves were humming with excitement as I put on my best smile for them, for him.

“We look smashing, darling,” he uttered near my ear, joking with a funny accent to lighten the situation. I felt myself relax a bit more, knowing I was exactly where I was supposed to be, supporting my future husband.

After the prerequisite photo op, our entourage hurried us down the standard red carpet, avoiding all of the microphones, from every media outlet imaginable, that tilted out from behind the barriers, while other lesser-known actors and actresses were basking in the attention. Ryan was scheduled to be interviewed backstage, where he would talk the talk.

We were ushered to an open section of outdoor concrete where I spotted Suzanne Strass, Ryan’s co-star in the Seaside films.

She was chatting it up with a man and another woman when she spotted me; her smile quickly faded as she eyed me up and down, as if I’d offended her by making an appearance here. Call it cattiness, but something in me made me twist the huge diamond on my finger, my silent way of telling her to suck it.