Catch a Falling Star (In Love in the Limelight Book 3) Read online

  “Ow!”

  Colin swatted his T-shirt across her butt a second time. “C'mon, Wendy. Get your sweet ass out of bed.”

  “Stooooop!” She curled up like a bug and pulled the pillow over her head.

  “Wendy, get up.”

  She looked at him from under the pillow. “I need my full eight hours of sleep, Colin. It's a work thing. I have to. How I look is important. It's how I make money. It's the key to all the people around me making money. Ask Lola. She makes sure Arlen always gets eight hours. Go ahead and ask her.”

  “I am not asking my sister about her sleeping habits with her husband. Her newlywed husband. That's sick.”

  She ducked back under the pillow. “I need my sleep.”

  Colin reached under the sheet and tickled her foot.

  She whipped the pillow off her head and scooched away from him, backing up against the headboard. “Colin!”

  “Morning, Wendy.”

  “Is this how you wake up all the women stupid enough to sleep in proximity to you?”

  Colin sat on the bed, grabbed her by the ankle, and took her foot in his hand. “Only the ones who tell the national media that they want to be a part of my life.”

  “And you agreed. So stop harassing me every chance you get.”

  He eased his thumb along her instep. “Is this harassing?”

  She clenched the sheet into her fists and licked her lips. “No,” she said, her voice tentative.

  He dropped her foot and picked up the other one. “Good.”

  Wendy didn't pull her foot away. “Um … why are you doing this?”

  Colin couldn't help but wonder whether anyone was ever nice to Wendy unless she paid them to be. From what he could tell, she didn't really have much family that she cared about. And men had been off the table for her for quite a while. God. No wonder she loved Lola and Arlen and their whole family so much. It wasn't that she had to be the center of attention. She just wanted to be a part of all the tenderness.

  Colin dropped her foot. “I'm being nice to your feet before we give them a good pounding.”

  “A good pounding? You're going to pound my feet? With what?”

  “You're coming with me for my morning run.”

  “What?! I can't. I didn't pack my running shoes.”

  “I saw you wearing two different pairs of sneakers yesterday. The ones you showed up in should work just fine.”

  “Just fine?” she echoed. “Colin, I can't go running in old, worn out shoes.”

  He stared her down before he spoke quietly. “Yes, you can. Jesse Owens didn't wear five-hundred dollar running shoes and he broke records. I think you're tough enough to manage if he was. And didn't Jim Thorpe run in bare feet?”

  “Colin,” she sighed. “My body is a commodity, like it or not. I have to be careful not to damage it.”

  He leaned in, so he was stretched out over her, his face mere inches from hers. “You weren't careful at all about damaging my life. At. All. Now get up and get dressed. Time to pony up.”

  Wendy stood in Colin's entrance hall, stretching before their run. The paparazzi were all waiting outside. She would have to remember to smile and wave with cheery gusto, even though she wasn't wearing any make-up. She was playing the part of—no, she was being—Wendy unplugged.

  “Ready?” Colin hooked the ring with the door key on his index finger as he peeked through to the street outside.

  “Ready.”

  Wendy was standing on her tiptoes, indulging in a full-on body stretch, her hands reaching for the heavens. Colin grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him, kissing her before she could even gasp. Wendy sank down from her toes, melting into Colin's embrace, letting him sweep her away. And then just as quickly as he'd snagged her, he let her go.

  “Thanks?” Wendy pressed her fingers to her thumping heart.

  Colin leaned in and kissed her again, this time more slowly, more softly. “You want to look ...” he murmured between kisses, “... as besotted as possible for the cameras … right?”

  “Right,” she whispered, twining her arms around him.

  Colin eased back. “We'd better go.”

  “Okay.”

  Colin turned to the front door, and Wendy snaked her arms around him from behind. Colin fell against the front door, banding his hands around the arms that circled him. “Jesus, Wendy.”

  Wendy closed her eyes and held onto him for a few seconds before she stepped away and poked him in the ribs. “Remember to look besotted.”

  Colin chuckled so deep and low that Wendy felt the shivers slide down her spine.

  “On the count of three,” he said, “we go.”

  “Got it.”

  “One, two, three.”

  Colin wrenched open the door and they stepped out to face the paparazzi.

  “Good morning,” Wendy called, all smiles and good humor. “I'm having the time of my life, getting to know all of Colin's friends and colleagues and students. But we're off now. Gotta get in the miles before it gets too hot!”

  She looked to Colin, letting all the shouted questions bounce right off her. He took her hand, and they sped off the porch, across the lawn, and into the street. It was early enough that no traffic stopped them from skirting all the media people clogging the sidewalks. Like Colin, Wendy waved at everyone. Then together they ran, laughing like they were having the time of their lives.

  Eight hours later, and Colin still felt like he was running. Running to keep up with Wendy. He felt like she had one up on him.

  What had he been thinking when he'd told her he was bringing her to practice? He'd expected her to resist, complain, make excuses. He'd been looking forward to laying into her about how she clearly wasn't willing to live up to her side of the bargain and how she had no real intention of making it believable that she wanted to “become a part of his life.” But she'd accepted his offer with downright alacrity, like she was the kid who got to carry the flag today. All the clothes she'd ordered from Amazon yesterday were waiting for them on the porch when they'd arrived home from their run, and she'd plowed right into the box to suit up for practice. She was playing the part of his fiancée full throttle. That should make him happy, right?

  Colin watched Wendy running out to the twenty yard line. He had to remember to pull his throws and time them for her slower gait. But she was sure as hell making it hard to concentrate. Damn, she looked so ridiculously adorable in her gym shorts and running shoes and his cut off football jersey. And that clingy tank top underneath. Not that you could even see much of the tank. But he knew it was there. And it was one more thing he wanted to slip off her.

  “Here?” she called.

  “Good,” Colin called from a bunch of yards away. “Now start running further back, eyes on me, and catch it as it comes down to you.”

  Wendy was surrounded by guys running drills, practicing plays, and doing inexplicable football stuff that made lots of crunching sounds, but she kept her focus on Colin. “Got it.”

  He was so great bringing her to practice like this, so she would really try to catch it. She'd caught a few already, and she was starting to get the hang of it.

  “Blue twenty-seven. Blue twenty-seven. Hut!”

  Wendy took off and the ball sailed right into her arms and she caught it.

  “Woo-hoo!” she yelled. And a few guys standing around waiting for their turn to smash into somebody clapped.

  She looked down the field to Colin who was smiling at her, but then Nic came up to him and said something.

  “Wendy,” he called. “I have to go do this. I'll be back in five.” He looked over to a kid running on the track. “Thomas, over here.” The kid jogged over. “Throw a few to Wendy until I get back. Cool?”

  “Right, Coach.”

  And Colin jogged off.

  “Hey Thomas,” Wendy called, running to get closer to him. “I'm not really good at catching with my hands, you know? Above my head or out to the side. So maybe make sure you throw it int
o my bread bunny.”

  “You mean your bread basket?”

  “Oh, right. Bread basket.”

  He shook his head. “Bread bunny don't make no sense.”

  “And bread basket does? I mean, who puts bread in a basket and then carries it around? Besides a waiter, but why would a waiter run out to catch a football?”

  Thomas tilted his head, thinking. “That chick in the movie Wizard of Oz. Dorothy. Doesn't she put bread in a basket?”

  Wendy considered. “Not that I remember. She puts her dog in a basket.”

  Thomas shrugged. “Okay. Ready?”

  “Okay,” she called. “Come on, right into my doggie basket!”

  Thomas dropped back with the ball. “Kill, kill, kill! Red fifty-seven. Hut!”

  Wendy started running and boy oh boy the ball was coming FAST. She picked up speed and—

  “Ooooof!” Wendy tried to catch it right in the doggie basket but the ball felt like a torpedo that blasted into her. Its momentum sent her flying until she landed hard, face in the turf.

  “Wendy!” Colin, who'd been across the field, was already running. “Wendy,” he said again as he dropped to his knees beside her.

  Wendy levered herself off the ground and propped herself on her elbows as she spit out dirt. Players from all the drills were gathering around and Thomas was tentatively stepping close.

  Colin looked up at him. “Did you throw that full power?”

  “Yeah … was I not supposed to? You didn't say.”

  Wendy laughed. “It's okay,” she assured Thomas. “I'm okay.” Then she turned to Colin. “Gosh. Compared to him, you throw like a total wuss.”

  Chapter 23

  RAY

  Holy Hell, Colin Scott is going to get Wendy killed. Is this his version of payback? She tells the world they're engaged, so he makes her play man games in the dirt? All these paparazzi pop-tarts are lapping it up, filming everything they can.

  And so am I. I have to blend in, right? And I don't think anyone will recognize me from L.A. I haven't done anything to my hair for two days now and I look like a forest beast. And I'm wearing local clothes.

  God, this is one hell of a penance.

  And I know I should make contact already. I really should. So why am I skulking around Rocheforte like a vampire in need of a new colony?

  I'm doing reconnaissance. Yeah. At least that's my story for now, and I'm sticking to it. Something is happening with Colin and Wendy. Sure, Wendy invented the engagement from thin air. And Colin didn't rat her out. Which makes sense. The guy would never do something like that because it could so monumentally damage Lola's life. But now Wendy's down here for three weeks. Living in Colin's house.

  WTF?

  Okay, so they hooked up the night of Lola's wedding. Like that wasn't the most obvious thing in the world the weekend of the adoption party. And everyone had been so damn clueless. But I sure as sunshine had been in no mood to break the ice about someone else's sex life when my entire love life had just taken the hit that would sink it.

  But a hook-up? A fling? An affair? That isn't what's going on here. I don't know what the lullaby is happening, but nothing's making sense.

  So I'm using that as my excuse for delaying my big confession about how this is all my fault. I am going to confess. I am. I will. But first I want to get a better idea of exactly what kind of man-eating alien flower I might have created.

  Chapter 24

  THE STORY OF WENDY AND COLIN

  Holy hell.

  Colin slowed his pace around the track and turned around.

  He was gone.

  Colin started running again. Had he just seen Ray Collier? Sitting in the stands? Ray Collier?

  What was Ray doing in Rocheforte? Was it because Wendy's clothes from Amazon had just arrived? Was Ray performing due diligence, coming on the heels of all those packages of such plebeian garments? Had Ray brought some of Wendy's own stuff? But then wouldn't he be at the house now, delivering it all to Wendy while Colin was still at the field?

  Or what if it had nothing to do with Wendy's clothes? Could Lola have sent Ray to keep an eye on her million dollar star?

  Colin stopped running and took his cell out of his pocket.

  But wait.

  Did he really want to get into this with Lola? Now? Because if he started asking her questions, she would sure as sugar start asking him questions. And he wasn't ready to tell her what was going on. And he wasn't about to lie to her.

  But would Lola really send a spy? She knew how to pay attention and how to use information, but she wasn't … sneaky.

  But what about the devious Wendy? Maybe Ray was here to spy for her. Keep an eye on things. Report back. But would Wendy do that, now that she's here? Plant her spies in Rocheforte? Did she even have spies? Do Hollywood stars have their own spies? Maybe. But probably not. But maybe.

  Colin started running again and when he looked back, he saw three people in the stands where before he'd seen only one. Young men. They kind of looked like the guy he thought might be Ray. Same shaggy hair, same clothes. Same ever-present cell. But none of the guys was Ray. Had Colin imagined the whole thing? He'd only gotten the barest glimpse of the guy.

  And what the hell would Ray be doing down here, anyway? Even if Lola and Wendy were like Batman villains and had sent spies, would they send Ray? Ray would hate it in Rocheforte. The guy would NOT blend in.

  No. Ray Collier was not in town.

  Colin was going crazy, that was all. Having Wendy Hunter in his life was making him see and think all sorts of bizarre, out-of-place things. She was making him believe in things that just weren't there.

  * * * * *

  That night, Colin made sure to be extra nice to Wendy as he made them a shrimp salad from his Gramma's recipe. He paid close attention all evening and made sure she had everything she wanted.

  “Colin!” Wendy swatted him away as he tried to replace her spoon after she used it to stir her iced tea. “It was just a football. I'm fine. Will you back off?”

  “You were limping.”

  “For, like, a few minutes. I fell on my hip is all. I'm fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I'm sure!”

  “Okay.” Colin sat down at the table with her. “Then if you're feeling okay, maybe you can explain something to me.”

  “Sure. What?”

  “After you left practice today, all the players were running out for passes yelling, 'Hit me in the doggie basket!' And a few were saying, 'Hit me in the bread bunny!' But most of them couldn't say the bunny one without laughing.”

  Wendy let her gaze drift around the room as she looked at the walls.

  Colin took a long drink of his own tea. “Know anything about that?”

  Wendy finally stopped examining the cracks in the kitchen plaster and met Colin's eyes. And he let her see the gleam of mischief.

  She let out a laugh. “Come on, Colin. Give me a break. I was really trying.”

  Colin's blue eyes kept looking at her. “I know,” he agreed. “But what if I came to visit you on set and waited for you in your Star Ship?”

  “My Star Ship? You mean my Star Waggon? Colin, they're named Star Waggons, but nobody calls them that. We just call them trailers.”

  “How 'bout we call it your doggie bed. 'Take five. I'm going back to my doggie bed.'”

  “Fine, call it a Star Waggon. At least it's easy to remember because 'Star Waggon' is painted in big block letters right on the side.”

  “About that. It's spelled wrong. 'Wagon' doesn't have two g's.”

  “Lyle Waggoner founded the company.”

  “The guy from Wonder Woman?”

  “And Carol Burnett.”

  Colin considered, then nodded. “Okay. Star Waggon. Easy to remember because it's printed right where you can see it. So next time you say, 'Hit me in the numbers.' It's easy to remember because the numbers are right here on your jersey.”

  And Colin pointed to the numbers on her shirt.
But his finger stopped just short of brushing against her curves.

  Wendy sucked in her breath, but Colin could tell she hadn't meant to by the look of surprise on her face.

  He pulled his hand back. “You're still wearing it,” he noticed. “I like the way it looks on you.”

  Wendy laughed. “Well … It's not like I have a warehouse of clothes out here. And it looks like I'm doing my own laundry, so I think I'll cut back on my wardrobe changes.”

  Okay. He had been imagining things. No Ray. No extra clothes for Wendy.

  He looked at her in his football jersey that he'd cut off so it wouldn't go down to her knees. Wendy in his jersey. And she'd been wearing his T-shirt on the porch yesterday.

  “Tell you what,” he said. “I'll make you a deal. Any of my shirts that you wear can go in my laundry. I'll wash them, dry them, fold them. Wear my shirts and no laundry for you to do.”

  Wendy looked at him for a few seconds. Then she smiled, but she looked like she was trying to bite down on the smile, as if she didn't want him to see it.

  “Tempting,” she said, almost as if she were trying to pull off sarcasm. But then her voice got quieter. “It's almost as if you like seeing me in your shirts.”

  “It has its appeal.”

  Wendy looked away. And down at her grass-stained football jersey. “This one came in handy today.” She looked back up to Colin and smiled a big, bright smile. “I had a lot of fun today. I'm really glad you took me along.”

  “You didn't have to leave when you did, you know.”

  “Yes, I did. I was becoming a distraction. And I'm not trying to mess up your life, Colin. I'm really not.”

  Colin looked at her face so steeped in concern. “Yeah, right.”

  She had no idea. Did she really think his life was so damn empty that she could blast into it with her fake engagement and not disrupt anything?

  Colin looked up as Wendy slid her chair back from the table. He could see that she looked confused. Annoyed. Maybe a little frustrated.

  She'd felt it, the shift in his mood and she didn't get it. Fine.

  Let her wonder. In Wendy's world, apparently, she couldn't process anything that didn't fall in line with her configuration of how things should be.