she splashed hot coffee on her bare foot and then cried out in pain.
She hobbled back inside to get ice on the burn and then called downstairs to the lobby to ask Adam what the hell was happening.
“Good morning, Miss Travis,” Adam said.
“Good morning, Adam. What’s going on outside?”
“Seems to be a gathering of fans and the media, I think.”
“Because of me?”
“Yes, ma’am. News broke about what happened on your set yesterday.”
“The vultures are already descending,” she muttered.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“That’s great, just great. So much for a trip to the ER. What do you have on hand that’s good for burns?”
“Oh no—are you okay?”
“Not the end of the world. Just hot coffee on the top of a bare foot, but looks like it’s going to blister and hurts like hell.”
“Keep ice on it, and I’ll have a doctor here shortly.”
Sahara winced at the pain shooting up her leg.
“Thank you, Adam. Sorry to be a bother.”
“No, ma’am. This is no bother. This won’t be the first time we’ve had to call a doctor to this building. It shouldn’t be long. I’ll call right now,” he said, and disconnected.
Sahara hung up the house phone and then hobbled into the kitchen for more ice just as her cell phone signaled a text.
It was Lucy, asking if she needed anything and saying that she was on her way over.
She responded with a text to bring some bananas, a box of cook-and-serve vanilla pudding mix, milk, a box of vanilla wafers and anything else that looked good. Might as well stock up if she was going to be stuck here for a while.
She got a thumbs-up and a laugh emoji from Lucy, then disconnected and put some more ice on her burn.
* * *
Lucy came out of the supermarket with a whole extra sack of groceries above what Sahara had asked for. She already knew about the media chaos. She’d seen it on the early-morning news, which meant it was time to prepare for a lockdown. No way could Sahara go anywhere without bodyguards today, and Harold Warner was in charge of all that.
Lucy blew a lock of hair from one eye as she put the bags inside her car. It wasn’t quite 9:00 a.m., and it was already hot. If only her boss had a place up in the hills, one with a big pool and an even bigger wall around it, work would be so much better. She didn’t understand why an actress as famous and rich as Sahara Travis insisted on living in the middle of such a huge city, even if it was at The Magnolia, and even though she owned the penthouse. Sure, this place had a pool, but it was on the roof opposite the helipad at the other end, and it was even hotter up there—closer to the sun. Technically, the other residents of The Magnolia were on the same social level as Sahara, but it just didn’t fit Lucy’s idea of Hollywood glamour.
She upped the air-conditioning to frigid as she drove and breathed a sigh of relief as her car finally began to cool. She knew the media was already on-site, but upon arrival, it suddenly felt as if she was driving into a riot.
“Oh good Lord,” she mumbled, then honked loud and long to move a group of paparazzi as she took a quick turn into the adjacent parking garage.
She got out, unfolded a portable cart she kept in the trunk and transferred the two sacks of groceries into it before heading into the building.
Adam saw her coming. “Do you need any help, Miss Lucy?”
“No, I’ve got this, but thank you,” she said.
“All right, then. You tell Miss Travis that the doctor is on his way.”
Lucy frowned. “Doctor? What doctor? Is she hurt?”
“She burned the top of her foot with hot coffee.”
“Oh no,” Lucy said, and began hurrying toward the elevator.
“I’ll ring her and tell her you’re coming up,” Adam said.
Lucy waved to indicate she’d heard him and kept on going.
* * *
Sahara was in misery when she got word that Lucy was on the way up. The burn was worse than she’d thought. Nothing was alleviating the pain, not even the ice. She stumbled to the door and opened it just as Lucy came off the elevator at a fast clip, dragging the grocery cart behind her.
“Adam said you burned your foot.”
Sahara pointed down at the top of her left foot as Lucy raced in with the groceries. She locked the door and then knelt to look closer at Sahara’s burn.
“It’s making a blister. Oh wow. That looks really painful.”
“Ice isn’t helping,” Sahara said. “I don’t suppose you know how to treat a burn?”
“No, but Adam said to tell you the doctor was on his way over. He should be here soon.”
“Thank God. I’m going to lie down. Will you listen for the doorbell and let him in?”
“Of course,” Lucy said, following Sahara into the kitchen as she got another handful of ice cubes, wrapped them in a dishcloth and left.
Lucy began putting groceries away, wondering what else this day would bring.
As she washed her hands a few minutes later, she heard the doorbell, so she dried them quickly before she hurried to answer.
The man at the door was not exactly what she was expecting, but he was carrying a black bag and properly identified himself with photo ID.
“Dr. Barrett to see Miss Travis?”
Lucy frowned at the jeans, sandals and casual cotton shirt hanging loose over his pants, and then eyed the three-day beard and sunglasses pushed up on the top of his head.
“You don’t dress like any doctor I ever saw.”
“Well, this is my day to spend at the free clinic, and I try not to outdress my patients. They seem to trust me more this way,” he said.
She smiled at him. “Sorry for jumping to judgment, but we can’t be too careful right now. I’m Lucy, by the way.”
“No problem, Lucy. I heard about what happened on the news this morning,” Barrett said.
“Sahara went back to her room to lie down. Follow me.”
Chris Barrett had been to this complex before and was used to treating the wealthy, but he had to admit the idea of seeing Sahara Travis in person was exciting. She was one of the most beautiful women in Hollywood, and also one of the most secretive. She didn’t
