by Leigh Duncan
Vendors and their assistants circulated through the large space. At one table, a thin figure straightened the corners of a dark bow on the back of one of the two hundred chairs draped in white linen. Another young woman plucked imperfect blossoms from the low centerpieces and dropped them into a miniature dust pan. Here and there, waitstaff adjusted the placement of crystal, china, and silver that glinted atop linens in the bride’s signature colors. The dark violet tablecloths topped by china and napkins of the palest pink weren’t what Nick would have chosen, but then, planning a wedding didn’t factor into his immediate plans. His long-term plans either, for that matter.
He nodded and turned to face Alicia. “This looks amazing. The bride and groom are sure to be pleased.” He waited a beat. “But they’re probably going to want this cake.” He thumbed a finger at the towering layers covered with his legendary buttercream icing and dotted with a thousand painstakingly carved marzipan flowers. “Where do you want us?”
Over the next hour, he and Jimmy worked side-by-side at the display table, nudging a fallen bit of almond paste into place here, repairing a small gap in the frosting there. By the time they finished, every inch of the cake had been examined and glistened under a fresh dusting of edible gold flecks. Finally, Nick stepped away and snapped a photograph of their handiwork. Alicia was right. This was one of his best designs. It deserved a place of honor on the bulletin board in the shop.
Squaring his shoulders, he summoned a bright smile for the guests who began streaming into the room.
Chapter Two
Jennifer Longley pressed the key on the intercom. “Kay, the car will be here any minute. Are you almost ready? You know how the director hates it when you’re late.”
No answer.
She didn’t leave while I was getting coffee, did she?
Jenny lowered her mug to a coaster on one corner of her desk. Two quick steps took her to the doorway of her alcove office in the Beverly Hills mansion. Beyond the sleek leather couches and rich Oriental carpets, a rosewood-and-gilt table stood by the front door. Perched atop the glossy surface, Kay’s shoulder bag was exactly where Jenny had placed it fifteen minutes ago, filled to overflowing with every conceivable item one of Hollywood’s hottest stars might need over the course of a day’s shooting. The script, complete with highlights so Kay could study her lines during the hour-long commute to the set. A pair of designer sunglasses immediately available in the side pocket. A dozen copies of the star’s latest head shot, exactly six felt-tip pens, and her signature pink, sequined flip-flops to slip on the instant a pair of pricey shoes with four-inch heels pinched her precious toes. Check, check, and double-check.
Confident that everything was exactly as it should be, Jenny nodded. All she needed now was the star herself. But, as far as she knew, Kay had yet to emerge from the master suite. When she did, she’d most likely breeze through the house, slip the strap of the trendy bag over one arm, shove the sunglasses over sparkling blue eyes, and step from the air-conditioned luxury of her house into the town car that idled not five feet from her front door.
But first, Jenny had to discover the reason for today’s delay and fix it.
“Karolyn, are you feeling all right?” Patting her pockets for the supply of over-the-counter medications she kept on hand, she trotted down the hall. Though head and stomach aches didn’t plague the star often, Jenny prided herself on being prepared for every crisis, no matter how big or small.
When there was no answer to her knock at Kay’s bedroom, she pushed the door to the master suite ajar. The rumpled bedcovers on the king-sized bed had been pushed aside, and Jenny breathed a relieved sigh. America’s leading lady had rolled out of bed on time, at least. Jenny’s bare feet sank into the deep pile carpet as she padded toward the dressing area, where she sometimes found Kay standing in the immense closet, fretting over which of the hundreds of options she should wear. But the closet, like the spacious bathroom beyond it, stood empty.
Jenny’s brows knit. Where to next? Heading back the way she’d come, she eyed doors that opened onto the theater and a library, the hallway that led to the servants’ quarters. The house was too large for a room-to-room search. She tugged her cell phone from a back pocket and punched a few keys.
Where R U?
Kitchen.
Jenny’s lips thinned at the immediate reply. What on earth for? She stifled a laugh at the thought of the thin brunette scarfing down eggs and bacon, or the utterly improbable pancake. The newly hatched chicks on her aunt’s farm enjoyed a heartier breakfast. In the two years she’d worked as Kay’s assistant, she’d never known the mega-star to down more than a cup of coffee before leaving for the studio.
Cutting through the immense living room with its two-story glass walls overlooking an Olympic-sized pool, lush gardens, and guest house beyond, Jenny skidded into the kitchen on bare feet. She hastily skimmed over built-in appliances cleverly hidden behind white panels, the acre of pale gray granite that stretched into the distance, the breakfast nook that offered comfortable seating for up to a dozen. Her focus landed on the woman who’d pulled a bar stool up to the center island. Cool and calm, Kay sat there, munching on a slice of toast as if fixing her own food was an everyday occurrence.
The butter dish and a pot of imported jelly she must have pulled from the massive Sub-Zero refrigerator lay among the crumbs scattered across the countertop, along with several loose papers. Steam rose from a pot of water on the stove. Damp leaves spilled from a discarded tea strainer near a heavy, white mug. The comfort food stirred memories of the tea and toast Jenny’s aunt used to fix for her when she was little and had an upset stomach. An awful flu bug had been making the rounds, but Kay, like most of the celebrities she knew, carried an industrial-sized bottle of hand sanitizer with her wherever she went, and she wasn’t afraid to use it. Was she feeling the effects of a late night out with her leading man and current beau?
“Are you okay? You aren’t sick or anything, are you?” Jenny searched flawless skin for a touch of green or any symptom of a queasy stomach.
“Nope. I’m right as rain. Better, even.” Her hair swept back in a sleek ponytail, America’s reigning movie queen calmly spooned another dollop of jam onto her toast. She held out an uneaten slice. “Want to share?”
Jenny fought past an urge to stare. Because the cameras added at least ten pounds to even the tiniest figures, studios insisted on having weights and measurement clauses written into multi-million-dollar contracts. Which explained why Kay counted every calorie and carb that passed through her lips and why she insisted on only eating farm-to-table produce supplemented by certified organic meats and cheeses. She certainly didn’t eat starches and never, ever, something concocted out of white flour, drenched in butter and slathered in jelly.
“Who are you, and what have you done with Karolyn Karter?” Jenny gasped.
The dark-haired beauty looked over her shoulder. “I think she’s left the building. The only person I’ve seen this morning besides you is the future Mrs. Chad Grant.” Kay tapped her ring finger against her mug of tea.
“You and Chad are getting married?” Jenny’s voice scaled the register at the exciting news. In the same breath, she told herself she shouldn’t be surprised. Thanks to the reporters who tracked Kay’s every move, everyone in Hollywood knew it had been love at first sight when the co-stars had met for the first time on the set of Two Hearts on the Run, their current blockbuster-in-the-making.
Dashing forward, Jenny snatched the other woman’s hand and held it up. A brilliant cut diamond sparkled in the ray of sunlight that streamed through a plate-glass window overlooking the pool. She peered closer at the elegantly worked metal around a rock the size of a hen’s egg. “Are there two bands?”
Nodding, Kay beamed. “Chad had the jeweler line the platinum setting with rose gold. Isn’t that the sweetest thing?” She sighed. “He knows me so well.”
In the scant six weeks since shooting had started, how had Karolyn and Chad gotten to know each other well enough to fall in love, much less get engaged?
Jenny ran her fingers through her hair and gave a strand a tug. This wasn’t the time or the place to raise questions. Or to point out that marriage and family weren’t in the plan Kay had laid out for her life. The one that called for adding two more Oscars to the collection in the den before the star allowed herself a serious relationship or to start thinking about white picket fences and babies. Adjusting the plan could wait. This was the time for congratulations.
“I’m so happy for you!” Leaning down, she gave Kay a fierce hug, all the while taking care not to brush her cheek against the plain white T-shirt that had probably cost more than her own salary for a week. She stole a quick glance at the kitchen clock over the star’s shoulder. “I want to hear every detail. Where did he pop the question? Was it romantic? Were you surprised? But first, we need to get you to the studio. You can’t be late, not even on the first day of your engagement.”
“Relax.” Kay took a dainty bite of her toast. “I have the morning off. Guzman texted to say they were working on a problem with the lighting and wouldn’t be ready to shoot the next scene till after lunch.”
Jenny drew in a relieved breath. She and Kay might both be brunettes and, without heels, they each stood precisely five feet, two inches tall, but the similarities ended there. Her own dark brown eyes were far less commanding, her shape a touch rounder, her features more girl-next-door than Kay’s. Sitting in the kitchen with slicked-back hair and without a speck of makeup, her boss was easily one of the most beautiful women in the world. Heads turned whenever she walked into a room. But without her standard two hours of hair and makeup at the studio, Kay would look like a pale and sickly image of herself beneath the hot camera lights. With the schedule pushed back, they had at least an hour before Kay needed to head across town.
Sliding onto an empty seat, Jenny cupped her chin in her hands. “Tell me everything,” she gushed.
“It was magical. We drove down to Santa Monica. Chad had reserved my favorite booth in the back of La Bon Chance. Louis, the maître d’, is so good to us there. He always makes sure we’re left alone.”
Jenny nodded and quietly jotted a mental note to add to the maître d’s Christmas bonus. Ever since Karolyn’s latest film had broken box office records across the country, guaranteeing the star’s privacy had become harder than ever. Not even a pricey, five-star restaurant was safe from camera-toting reporters.
“We had drinks and appetizers.” Obviously reliving the moment, Karolyn’s eyes filled with a soft glow. “I don’t have to tell you what I ordered.”
“Mmm-hmmm.” The soft, poached egg stuffed with caviar, topped by a lemony sauce, had always been Kay’s favorite.
“I hadn’t planned on dessert—have to watch the figure, you know.” Kay took a second bite of toast before abandoning the rest to her plate. “But Chad insisted on ordering one of those chocolate things where they pour caramel over the top, and the outer shell melts to reveal a hidden yummy treat. Well.” She took a dramatic breath. “When they did, there was the ring, nestled in the most beautiful raspberry soufflé. Chad got down on one knee and asked if I’d make him the happiest man alive. It was incredibly sweet. Of course, I said yes! Louis opened a bottle of Cristal, and the entire staff applauded.” Her eyes sparkled as she clasped her hands over her heart. “I’ll treasure that moment forever.”
“That sounds perfectly dreamy,” Jenny said with an exaggerated sigh. “You two make such a beautiful couple.” But the statement led to other, less pleasant thoughts. The merger of two of Hollywood’s biggest stars would prompt reporters from every tabloid in the nation to camp out on the grounds beyond the front gates. Some of the more obnoxious ones might even try to scale the ten-foot fences. As Kay’s personal assistant, she’d need to beef up security first thing. Was she already behind the curve? She drummed her fingers on the counter. “Who else knows about the engagement?”
“No one yet.” Karolyn pushed her plate out of reach. “I’ll call Shelly and Mara this morning, of course. They’ll probably arrange a press conference. I’m sure we’ll hit the talk shows this week. You know how it is.”
She did, but letting Karolyn’s publicist and agent in on the news hadn’t exactly been what Jenny had in mind. “I meant, have you called Aunt Maggie?” The phone call to the star’s mother needed to be placed before some reporter shoved a mic in the woman’s face and splashed her reaction all over the internet.
“Oh!” Karolyn snapped her fingers. “Oh, you’re right. Mom will be so excited!” A faraway look crept into her eyes. “But first, you and I need to talk.”
Jenny swallowed. What was it about that last word that sent a chill down her spine? “You aren’t firing me, are you?” she asked, hating the tentative note in her voice. But the question wasn’t that far off base. If the two lovebirds were going to combine households, it stood to reason they’d make some adjustments.
“Goodness no! Quite the opposite, in fact. I need you to plan my wedding.”
“Me?” Jenny reeled back in surprise.
“Of course you, silly. Who else would I trust? After all, you are my cousin, aren’t you?”
Well, there was that.
Actually, having grown up in the same house, she and Kay were closer than most cousins. They were practically sisters. They had been since that awful day Jenny’s parents had died in a train wreck on their way into the big city. At seven, she hadn’t had a clue what was to become of her. Where would she live? Who would take care of her? Would she go to an orphanage like the one in Little Orphan Annie? Her whole world had become a series of questions, each more frightful than the last. But then, Aunt Maggie had draped one arm around her shoulders and told her not to worry, everything would be okay.
She’d never forget her aunt’s kindness that day, or everything Aunt Maggie had done for her since then. Two years ago, she’d had a chance to repay at least a little of what she’d been given when Aunt Maggie had called with the news that Kay had landed her first big role. When she’d followed that up with a request for help, Jenny hadn’t hesitated. She’d boarded a plane the next day and flown to California. In a matter of weeks, she’d straightened out her cousin’s chaotic schedule, had ensured her timely and prepared arrival on set, and had put an end to far too many brushes with the paparazzi.
Thanks to Kay’s tendency to wait until the last minute to plan anything, Jenny had learned how to throw together a soirée for twenty with ten minutes’ notice, stage an elegant birthday bash with the snap of a finger, and she no longer batted an eyelash when her cousin needed a last-minute reservation at one of L.A.’s trendiest restaurants.
But a wedding, even a small one, was something else. And planning the ceremony and reception for two of the biggest names in the entertainment industry was something else entirely.
“Oh, I don’t know…” Jenny hesitated. She wasn’t quite sure where to even begin. “Don’t you think you need a wedding planner?”
“Ordinarily, yes, but Chad and I talked it over, and we agreed. Neither one of us wants to turn our wedding into a media circus. We just want to slip away someplace where the reporters and camera crews won’t find us. We’ll say our vows in front of our family and a few close friends. Fifty guests, maximum. That sounds doable, doesn’t it?”
“Fifty? You’re sure?” How was that supposed to work? On any given day, it took a small army just to get Karolyn from the house, through makeup, hair and wardrobe, and onto the set.
Her cousin leaned forward and took Jenny’s hands in her own. “We’re absolutely certain. Something small and intimate. Honestly, it won’t be as hard as it sounds. I’ve already done most of the work.” With a dramatic flourish, Kay snagged a few pages off the kitchen counter and held them out.
“What are these?” An uneasy feeling shif
ted through Jenny’s midsection.
“It’s everything I want for my wedding, from my gown right down to the cake. With these notes, you shouldn’t have any trouble making the arrangements. Right?”
The papers rattled in Jenny’s hands. She stared down at them, trying to decipher her cousin’s scribbles. “So your colors are pink and gray? Any particular shades?” There had to be a hundred different variations.
“Just pink.” Kay lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. “Like in my ring.” She tapped the band. “And the gray shouldn’t be too dark.”
“Good to know.” Taking a pen from a drawer under the phone, Jenny carefully added “rose gold” in the margin. “What’s this about your gown?” She frowned at an illegible mark.
“Oh, that.” Kay waved a hand through the air. “You don’t have to worry about the dress. I’ll fly Mom out from Pennsylvania. We’ll go shopping together. Can you make her flight reservations today? And get us on the schedule at Madame Eleanor’s for the week after next?”
Getting Kay an appointment at L.A.’s most exclusive bridal salon, even on such short notice wouldn’t be a problem. But why the rush? “You two have set a date, then.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” A giddy excitement rippled across Kay’s face. “We’re getting married in six weeks, as soon as we wrap up shooting on Two Hearts on the Run.”
“Oh! That’s awfully soon.” Allowing herself one small sip of air, Jenny pressed crossed fingers into her lap. “Most brides allow themselves more time to plan, don’t they?”
“We have to get married now or wait at least eighteen months. You know how tight my schedule is.”
Jenny nodded. Kay lived a luxurious life, but she worked hard. By the time her current film appeared in theaters, her next one would be in post-production, and she’d be shooting a third.
