same way. I’ve got to get where I’m going fast, no matter if it’s just to sip coffee and read the newspaper.” Mariah, always impeccably dressed, rubbed her shoulder through her cognac-colored silk blouse. “Guess we’re alike in that regard. Where were you going in such a hurry?”
“Nowhere. Just outside. I left Zane hanging and I wanted to go back to talk to him.”
“Good luck with that. I just left him, and he’s a bear right now.”
“Oh, really? Why?” It couldn’t be the Dylan McKay thing, could it?
“I don’t know exactly what set him off other than he hates being confined. He feels like a caged animal. Though he doesn’t make an effort to go anywhere, other than for business.”
“I can see how that would make him restless.”
Mariah smiled. “That’s the perfect way to describe it. He’s restless. But I’m afraid that came on well before his fall. I think a change of pace is good for him. I’ve helped him make the decision to open this second restaurant, and now he’s thinking about movie roles. It might be just what he needs.”
Or maybe he was running away from his past, the same way she was. Zane loved music. He loved writing lyrics and composing songs. He was meant to entertain. His sexy, deep baritone voice made his fans swoon. That’s the only Zane she’d known.
“Dylan invited you in to hear his pitch, I understand. What did you think of the movie?”
“Me? Well, I, uh...to be honest, I think the idea of Zane and Dylan being estranged brothers coming home after the death of their father might work. If Zane can act, he’d be great in the role. The only issue I see is the love triangle about the girl back home. I saw Zane’s reaction to Dylan’s description of the romantic scenes he’d have to do. Zane instantly shut down. I’m not sure if Zane’s up to that.”
“That’s exactly what I think, too. Zane’s not going to do something he’s not comfortable with. Believe me, I know. I’ve had plenty of discussions with him about his recent decisions. He bounces things off me. He asks me a question, and I tell him the truth.”
“Which is?”
“I will say this. Zane can act. He’s been doing so for over two years now. His public persona is far different than the real Zane.” Mariah was ready to say more and then clamped shut. Her eyes downcast, she shook her head. “Forgive me. I keep forgetting who you are.”
Jessica drew her brows together. “It’s because of Janie. He’s still hurting.”
Mariah nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
Mariah’s eyes fell on her softly, her genuine warmth shining through. “Please forget I said anything. It’s none of my business.”
The idea that after two years, Zane was still making decisions based on the love he had for Janie, nestled deep into her heart. It was beautiful in a way, but also incredibly sad. “You’re Zane’s personal assistant. You spend a lot of time together. I can see that you care about him as a friend, too, so maybe it’s more your business than mine.”
“Zane thinks of you as family. He’s said so a dozen times since you’ve come here.”
“I’m the little sis he never had.” Wasn’t that the term he’d used this afternoon with Dylan McKay?
Stop corrupting my little sis.
Zane’s loyalty to her family was very sweet. She didn’t take it lightly, but she also didn’t want him to think of her as a pity case. From the moment her shocked guests walked out of the church on her wedding day, weeks ago now, something harsh and cold seeped into her soul. Trust would be a long time coming, if ever again. So Zane didn’t have to worry over her. She wasn’t a woman looking for love. She wasn’t on the rebound. He could sleep well at night.
“So, what are you up to today?” she asked Mariah. She was learning the ins and outs of Zane’s superstardom. Mariah sifted through a dozen offers a day for special appearances, television interviews and charity events on Zane’s behalf. She’d learned that Zane was a generous contributor to children and military charities, but lately, he’d declined any personal appearances. Mariah worked with his fan club president on occasion and took care of any personal business, such as setting up medical appointments or shopping trips. It was a different world, one that her sister, Janie, had resigned herself to because she’d been with Zane from the launch of his career. They’d grown into this life together.
“More restaurant business to do today. We’ve got a decorator working on the interior design, but Zane’s not sure about the motif.” Mariah’s cell phone rang, and she excused herself.
Jessica walked over to the French door leading out to the deck. Zane was sprawled out on a lounge chair, shaded from the sun, his booted foot elevated, reading the script Dylan had brought over. Keen on the subject matter, he seemed deep in thought. As her gaze lingered, she watched him close the binder and stare out to sea, his expression incredibly wistful.
She followed the direction of his gaze and honed in on the vast view of the ocean. The sounds of the sea lulled her into a soothing state of mind. It was a place to find infinite peace, if there ever was such a thing. Her nerves no longer throbbed against her skin. These past few days, she’d been much calmer. Were time and distance all she’d needed to get over Steven Monahan? Geesh, Jessica felt at one with nature and started to believe. A chuckle rose from her throat at the notion. She was beginning to sound like a true Californian.
“Crap! Damn things.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she witnessed Zane’s crutches fall to the ground. The slap echoed against the wood deck. Zane was off the chair, bending to pick them up and trying to keep weight off his bad foot. It looked like a yoga move gone bad. She moved quickly, her legs eating up the length of the deck to get to him.
“Zane, hang on.”
He stumbled and fell over, landing on his bad hand. “Ow!”
By the time she reached him, he was on his butt, cursing like the devil, shaking out his wrist. She kneeled beside him. “Are you okay?” she asked softly.
He tilted his head toward her. “You mean other than my pride?”
She smiled. “Yes, we’ll deal with that later. How’s the hand?”
“I managed to catch the fall on the tips of my fingers, so the wrist should be fine.”
He moved his fingers one by one as if he was playing keys on a piano. So much for keeping his hand immobilized. “Maybe your doctor would be a better judge of that.”
“Now you sound like Mariah.”
“I knew an old goat like you once,” she said, putting his right arm over her shoulder. “Let me help you up.”
“I knew the same goat,” he bounced back. “Smart critter.”
“Pleeeze. Okay, are you ready? On three.” She swung her arm around his waist. “One. Two. Three.”
His weight drew her toward him, the side of her face against his chest, her hair brushing his shirt. He smelled like soap and lime shaving lotion. His
