“Please don’t be the creepy stalker dude,” she muttered. For once she’d almost welcome a photographer looking to sell a shot to a tabloid.
“Let’s see what you’ve got, buddy,” Kate said. She nudged the Ducati a little harder and took the ramp onto the freeway. The Marauder hung with her. Great. The dude had modified the engine. Today was turning out to be one hell of a bad day.
Kate drove faster, racing past a few cars in a blur. The guy in the Marauder was making up ground. Quickly.
“Oh, come on!” she muttered. “Give it up, dude! Leave me alone!”
Up ahead, Kate spotted a tanker truck in the right lane and, just past it, an off-ramp. It wasn’t the exit she wanted to take, but if she could get ahead of the truck and hit the ramp, the Marauder wouldn’t have the room or the maneuverability to stay with her.
Kate waited until the last possible second, her heart racing. How many times had she practiced something similar for the first of the Dark Fall movies? True, it wasn’t exactly like this—just enough for the camera to get a shot of her. She always had a stunt double for the really crazy dangerous parts. But those scenes had made her fall in love with bikes to begin with. Still, one wrong move . . .
“See ya!” Kate gunned the Duc, then dipped in front of the truck, hearing the engine of the big rig breathing down her neck, the sound of the tires as the driver hit the brakes.
She had cut it too close! He was swerving.
Kate didn’t dare look behind her at the speed she was going. She didn’t need to—the truck couldn’t be more than a few feet from the back of the bike. She gunned the Duc, hoping it’d give the trucker more room. Otherwise Kate was about to help repave the freeway.
Kate could almost feel the deafening blast of the horn as she swung onto the breakdown lane. She hadn’t accounted for this, but it was too late. All she could do was hope there wasn’t any debris. Everything alongside of her was a blur. She swerved around a car taking the exit before pulling back into the lane on the off-ramp. She slowed enough to see the Marauder fly past on the freeway. The trucker was still on the horn.
“Adios, Creepy Stalker Dude. Sorry, Trucker Guy.”
Her heart was still beating hard and her hands were shaking at the next light. Stunts on set were one thing. She never expected to have to use them in her personal life. Still, it was a rush.
Despite the high speeds on the freeway, taking this direction would cost her a little time. She’d have to take a few extra side streets before getting to Heather’s shop for lunch. This route also meant a few more red lights, which weren’t great when she had to stop and balance the bike, but the detour had totally been worth it to get the Marauder off her tail.
Ten minutes later she pulled into a parking spot right in front of Shofner’s Flowers. She turned off the bike and removed her helmet before getting off the Duc.
“Kate Mercer! Hey, Kate!”
An older man wearing jeans and a green polo shirt walked toward her. She looked around for the black Mercury. She couldn’t see every parking spot—some were obscured by SUVs and minivans. It was impossible for anyone to know she was here, but that didn’t make her feel any better.
“I’m such a fan!” the man shouted. He waved a pen and some paper in the air. Kate tried to ignore him and headed for the flower shop.
“Wait!” the man yelled. “Miss Mercer, please! I just want your autograph! My daughter and wife love your movies. My daughter even read those books a dozen times before they were ever made into movies.”
Kate stopped and turned to face the man. It was no use. He’d only follow her inside. Besides, there was no proof he was Crazy Stalker Dude. The guy just didn’t strike her as the whack job she had in mind.
And exactly how did she picture a crazy stalker? Kate didn’t have an answer for that.
The guy grinned. “I don’t normally chase down women in parking lots. The wife wouldn’t approve,” he said. Kate forced a believable smile. Those acting lessons came in handy at times.
He handed her a small spiral notebook, the cover flipped open to a blank page. “Sorry, it’s all I had in the car. You wouldn’t happen to have stock photos or whatever you celebs sign, would you?”
Kate motioned to the Ducati. “Sorry, I’m traveling light. Who do I make this out to?” she asked politely.
“Could you sign two pages? Make the first out to Jackie. That’s my wife.” He paused, waiting for Kate to autograph the page.
Kate scribbled: To Jackie with love, Kate Mercer.
The guy took the notebook and flipped the page. “Could you make the second one out to my daughter, Cate?”
His clothes were pressed, and he seemed pleasant enough. And although he was staring at her, she wasn’t getting that pervy vibe she got from some men. “Kate, like my name, or with a C?”
“Oh! Sorry. With a C. Like your name, but with a C,” he repeated.
Kate signed the next page: To Cate. Thanks for being such a fan, Kate Mercer.
Kate held out the notebook and pen.
“Um, maybe one more?” the guy asked. “Could you make another one out to me? Name’s Ray. I know I’m not exactly your demographic and all, but since I’m here . . .”
The guy fished around in his pocket, and Kate watched carefully. He pulled out a cell phone.
Kate scanned the parking lot again. Where had this guy come from? What car? He might just be a fan, but she wasn’t taking chances. She caught a glimpse of the bumper of a black car, but couldn’t quite tell if it was the Mercury or not.
Don’t be ridiculous, she thought. There’s no way it’s him.
Even if Creepy Stalker Dude had known she was coming to visit Heather, he couldn’t have beaten her here, parked the car, and been waiting.
Kate flipped the page and signed: To Ray. Nice meeting you. Love, Kate Mercer.
Before she could hand him back the notebook, he leaned in and snapped a photo. Kate barely had time to smile. “No one would believe me otherwise,” Ray told her, showing her the picture he’d taken. Their smiling faces looked back at her, the Ducati and Heather’s flower shop in the background, the sign large and yellow. And something else—a gargoyle.
“Thanks so much, Miss Mercer!” He took hold of her hand and shook it briefly before briskly walking back to wherever he’d come from, the cell phone now up against his ear. “You won’t believe this,” she heard him say. “Guess who I just met?”
Kate was still thinking about the selfie the guy had snapped. Had Heather’s building always had a gargoyle rainspout? She wanted to turn and look, but waited until she saw Ray stop in front of a blue Chevy. “Yeah, and she’s got a Ducati!” he said as he opened the driver’s door. “Ducati. It’s a motorcycle.”
Ray slid behind the wheel, closed the door, and started the engine. She let out a sigh of relief, then turned to study the gargoyle. It looked like a cross between a baby dragon and a fat toad. This was just something Heather must have ordered from a garden supply shop. She stared at it for another moment before going in the store.
The bell above the door announced her arrival. Heather didn’t like electronic door chimes and preferred to keep what she called a small town feel to her shop. The sweet and pungent scent of flowers greeted Kate. Arrangements were everywhere, and refrigerated cases lined the side wall.
“Hey,” Heather’s voice boomed. She was only five foot four, but her voice always sounded like it came from someone much larger. “It’s about time you showed up!” Heather walked toward her, arms outstretched. “Congrats on the last day of filming, sweetie. How are you doing?”
“Everything’s great,” Kate said, peeking between the blinds.
“Right. That’s why you’re spying through the blinds. Rabid fans?”
Kate nodded. “Just one.”
“Is he going to be a problem?”
“No. Not at all.” She turned away from the window. No point in telling Heather about testing out stunt scenes in real life.
“Is it Michae
l again?” Heather flipped over the sign in the window from “Open” to “Closed” and took a look outside.
“No. I mean, he’s still calling and all that. It’s nothing.”
Heather stood, hands on hips. “Spill. What happened?”
“Nothing,” Kate insisted. “Someone followed me part of the way here. But they’re gone now.”
Heather peeked out the window once more. “What were they driving?”
“A black Mercury Marauder,” Kate replied.
Satisfied that the car wasn’t in the parking lot, Heather turned away from the window. “Do you think it’s your delusional fan boy?”
“Maybe. Or maybe it was the paparazzi.”
“Still think you’re doing the right thing by not reporting it? Do you need me to follow you home?” Heather asked as they walked to the back room.
“It’ll blow over. I’m sure of it.” Kate set her helmet down on the counter. “Stuff like this happens. It’s just part of the biz.”
“Sure it is,” Heather scoffed.
Kate put on her best smile and waved a dismissive hand. This was part of the business. Her agent shielded her from the fan mail, but there had been an incident last year outside the set that had led to security ushering away some guy who insisted he was her boyfriend. She had spent the week at Michael’s place after that, more to reassure him than anything else. “I’m not worried. Come on, let’s eat and catch up.”
Heather’s face brightened, and she gave Kate another hug. “It’s good to see you. It’s been too long,” she said.
“Sorry. Long hours on the set. You know how it goes.”
Heather had put a bouquet of flowers in a vase and set them on the table. A brown carry-out bag from the deli down the street sat on the counter. Like the front of the store, everything in the back was clean and organized. Painted white pegboards lined the counters. Trays were labeled. Ribbons were arranged on spools by color family. Usually the back room was littered with cut stems and floral wire clippings, but today most of them had been swept from the floor.
“I already ordered. Your favorite. Chicken Caesar salads,” Heather explained as she unloaded the food. “And a nice cup of broccoli cheese soup.” She felt the plastic container. “We’ll heat the soup up in the microwave.”
Kate grabbed two large coffee mugs from a cabinet and passed them to Heather.
“Thanks. Oh, spoons!” She motioned to a drawer to Kate’s left. Kate fished out two spoons and handed them over.
“You want to talk about it?” Heather asked as she poured the soup from the containers into the mugs.
“It?”
“What you’re going to do now that filming is over.” She glanced at Kate as she put the mugs into the microwave. “You know. What’s next for you.”
Kate opened the small refrigerator and withdrew two bottled iced teas before taking a seat. “That’s what everyone wants to know. I guess I’ll take a break for a while.” She shrugged. “My agent thinks it’s a good idea, but she’s already sending me scripts to consider.”
Kate unscrewed the cap to her drink and took a sip. “First, there’s the wrap party. It’s this week with Michael and the rest of the cast.”
“Sounds like fun,” Heather said sarcastically.
“It’s not so bad.” This was where Kate always felt guilty. Far too many people would think she was ungrateful to complain about leading such a glamorous life. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate all that had been handed to her. Normally she loved the parties. But since the breakup, she always felt on display. It’d get better once she and Michael weren’t tabloid news anymore.
The microwave dinged, and Heather took out the mugs, setting one of them in front of Kate. Kate took a bite of salad from the Styrofoam container, then stirred her soup. She was glad Heather had decided on dining in the back of the shop instead of trying to eat out. It meant they could eat in peace, without being overheard.
“Is he still in denial?”
Heather’s aversion to using Michael’s name made Kate smile. When Kate had found out about the affair, Heather had been there to console her. She’d called him a name only once, a son of a bitch, but other than that, Heather had never said a word, good or bad, about Michael. Up until now, she’d pretty much avoided the topic.
“Yeah. He is.” Kate cleared her throat and slid her mug of soup closer.
“You aren’t thinking of giving in, are you?”
“No!” Kate shook her head. “No, I’m not. It’s just awkward with the press and all.”
“Do you still have feelings for him?” Heather studied her.
“No. It’s just . . . complicated, I guess. It’ll get better now that we’re not working together.”
Kate recalled the way he’d kissed her during their last scene. The phone calls. The flowers. His offer to go to counseling. She had no doubt Michael loved her . . . in his own way. But she didn’t trust him. At first, when she’d closed her eyes and thought of him, all she could see was the image of him with someone else—that blonde who’d had her picture all over the tabloids. Now when she closed her eyes and thought of him, she saw nothing. The kiss had solidified the breakup, too. There hadn’t been a single spark in it. Her mind wanted to wander to other things. Other places. Like Shadow Wood.
“You’re right. You’ll be fine. You always are,” Heather said.
Kate shook the vision of the castle from her head. “He’s always been a flirt. He swears it’s nothing, that he’s just being outgoing and getting a little extra press, but . . .”
“Maybe you need to think about dating again. Get yourself back out there,” Heather suggested.
Kate stared at her, incredulous.
“Don’t look at me like that. You need to move on. I know you’ve got a lot of male friends that wouldn’t mind being a little more friendly.”
“Heather, you know I’m not like that.”
“What? Daredevil in everything else but dating? Okay, I know you’re not interested in a relationship right now, but that’s beside the point, isn’t it?”
Daredevil. If she only knew. “Heather—”
“What I mean is, just because you’ve put yourself on a diet doesn’t mean you can’t sample from the menu now and then.”
Kate laughed. “You’re incorrigible!” She set aside her mug and stabbed at her salad.
“I know, not your style,” Heather said.
As they ate their lunch, Kate thought about Heather’s advice. Truth be told, Kate had been thinking about getting back in the game. But she’d been with Michael for three years. Dating someone new, especially when she was constantly in the spotlight, would feel like being on a reality dating show. And that was definitely not her style.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Kate
The Marauder wasn’t anywhere in sight, but that hadn’t stopped her from taking a good look around as she drove down the street and pulled through the gates to her house. The afternoon sun had started to lose its warmth by the time Kate parked the Ducati in the garage. Kate shut off the engine and closed the garage door.
Once inside, she looked around her all-too-quiet and all-too-familiar home. What to do tonight? She probably should work out. She’d been so busy the past couple of days that she hadn’t had the time. Except that she hadn’t had a lot of sleep, either—maybe just three hours this morning. Sleep would be good. Then she’d cook a bite to eat. Relax and watch TV or read. Work out first thing tomorrow.
Take the night off. Do nothing. It all sounded wonderful.
And completely boring.
She closed her eyes for a moment and thought of Shadow Wood. How she wished she were there right now. Now that she was aware she wasn’t crazy and that she could control her dreams, Kate thought she’d give it another try. This time without gargoyles.
It occurred to her that wishing she were in a mysterious castle was an odd thought. For starters, the place probably didn’t actually exist outside of her imagination. Secondly, even in he
r dreams, the castle belonged to someone else, and she’d been an intruder of sorts.
But that wasn’t true. Not really.
He’d been expecting her. The man with the gray-blue eyes—Declan. Declan, who owned a castle where she felt anything might be possible.
Nonsense, she told herself. She’d been in the biz too long. Fantasy existed only on the big screen.
Kate made her way upstairs to her bedroom where she hung up her jacket and took off her boots in the roomy walk-in closet. She shed her sweater, leaving on just an ivory camisole and her jeans. She lay down on her bed and fired off a quick text to Heather to let her know she was home safe and sound.
Her mind drifted back to the castle once again. She knew what it was. Escapism—the need to shut out real life for a while.
“That’s what vacations are for,” she said to no one.
Except that people recognized her almost everywhere she went. From Fiji to France, there would be cameras.
What she really needed was time away from being Kate the Actress and more time as just Plain Kate. A couple of months would do it. Maybe take up skydiving or repelling while she was at it. That’d be different. Then she’d be more than ready to get back into her work. Even though she loved acting, by the time a movie was wrapped up, Kate was ready for some time off.
The thought of taking months off made her laugh softly. Usually by the end of the second week, she was itching to get back to work.
Indecision may or may not be her problem, she thought.
On the other hand, what harm could it do? She closed her eyes and let herself drift off. Shadow Wood called to her, and she let the idea that she was needed there take root. Every time she visited, it seemed more real. Each time, Kate felt as though she were more there than here. She recalled how real everything had seemed during her last visit. She remembered it all with such vivid detail. Flowers that were so beautifully fragrant that even while lying here on her bed, she could still smell their sweetness. The carpets in the hall were so plush her feet wiggled, and a smile crept across her face just recalling the way they had warmed her bare feet.
Of Shadow and Stone Page 8
