The Wantland Files

by Lara Bernhardt

  “Something nonalcoholic, please. Cranberry juice and soda water?”

  “You got it.” His nod and half smile indicated he understood her need to remain sober, and he had her back. And that he believed they’d shared a moment. His brush with fame he could share with friends and family for years to come. He grabbed a martini glass and picked up a bottle of juice.

  “Come to gloat?” Sterling asked as the bartender added fizz to the juice. “Point out how much people love your show and hate mine?”

  “Not at all.” She accepted her mocktail and slid five dollars across the bar.

  “On the house,” the bartender said, holding up a hand to decline her payment.

  “Your tip, then.”

  He accepted the money, folded it, and slid it into a pocket. “Classy lady,” he said to Sterling as he moved down the bar to a man in a suit who looked as if he’d had a rough day.

  “Oh yeah. Everyone loves Kimberly Wantland.” Sterling tossed back the remainder of his beer and signaled for another.

  “Don’t you think you’ve had enough? We have another session tonight. You’ll need to be lucid and alert.”

  “You don’t need my help. And it doesn’t matter anyway. I’m sure you heard my show’s been canceled.”

  “I did. I’m sorry. I know you were hoping cohosting my show would help. It seems early to make that decision. You have plenty of fans, too. What reason did the network give?”

  “Oh, the usual. My agent says they cited budget cuts as the deciding factor. Get this—my show and I have become so popular, they can no longer afford to keep me. Particularly in light of the growing interest surrounding the crossover on Wantland Files. And the drama with Amber.”

  “What? That makes no sense. They should be glad for the extra attention.”

  “I thought so. My agent said he thinks they’d already decided not to renew and are trying to spin this unexpected turn of events so they don’t look bad. The network is losing money. They’re going to try to lure in a younger crowd with some teen-based shows. So I got the ax. Wish I’d known before. Wouldn’t have wasted your time.” He lifted the beer the bartender placed in front of him and swallowed deeply.

  “Are you kidding? What have you been saying the past few days? We’re blowing up the Internet. People love us together. Rosie says there’s a new hashtag trending. Wantlandsavethedate. For the season finale with Sterling Wakefield.”

  “It’ll be my last show. Need to figure out what I’m going to do next. Would you excuse me? I need to be alone before we shoot tonight. I . . . I’m really sorry I blew up at you earlier.”

  “No worries.”

  “No. There’s no excuse for it. I reacted poorly to upsetting news, and I’m sorry. I will be completely professional tonight.”

  “Don’t be professional. Be yourself. You’re fun. I think that’s what people are responding to. You bring a new energy to the show. And I didn’t want to admit it, but I needed that to boost my own ratings. But maybe stop drinking now. I’d like you to at least be sober-ish.”

  He grinned at her—the grin that just a few days ago had irritated her to the point of distraction but now set her stomach quivering. “Don’t worry. I’m a good Irish Catholic. I can handle my liquor.”

  “Catholic? Really? You don’t accept what I tell you about spiritual entities in the world around us, but you believe in the Immaculate Conception and Jesus rising from the dead?”

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “That’s a conversation for another day. I feel like we’ve arrived at a truce. Let’s not endanger the progress we’ve made.” He lifted his beer bottle and clinked it against her martini glass. “Here’s to us. Let’s go out with a bang.”

  “That’s the plan. Tonight we finish this investigation. Whatever it takes. Just, maybe, don’t disrupt me anymore.”

  “No worries, m’lady. I am ever your humble servant. And tonight I do naught but your bidding.”

  She felt his orange chakra flare and saw something dance in his eyes that sent another quiver through her stomach. She pulled her gaze away, focusing on her martini glass. “I seriously doubt that. I need to talk to Michael. I promise everything will be okay.” She rested her hand on his. “So don’t worry anymore. And stop drinking.”

  She scurried away from him, not sure if the idea taking shape in her mind was a good one, but knowing she needed to try. And knowing she also needed to get away from the stomach quivering Sterling’s smoldering gaze produced.

  “Michael, have you called RandMeier yet?” she asked as she took her seat at the table again.

  “Not yet. Thought I’d call when we head back to the Williamses’.”

  “Okay. I have something else I want to run past him.”

  Rosie lit up. “What is it?”

  “I don’t want to say yet. You’ll find out soon enough, if it works. Right now, I need to talk to Danielle and Stephen and iron out everything for tonight.”

  29

  Kimberly sat cross-legged on the floor of her makeup trailer, envisioning all her stress and distractions evaporating from her body. Eyes closed, she pictured herself in the middle of a field of flowers, temperate breezes playing across her brow. Incense burned around her. Sounds of babbling water and soft birdcalls filled the air.

  She allowed her head to drop forward and slowly bent until her spine curved in an arc and her forehead rested on the floor. Breathing deeply, she hummed lightly.

  “I guess I’m not surprised Danielle and Steven opted to come back tonight when you offered. But I’d be completely weirded out by a camera crew in my house at night,” Rosie said.

  She remained hunched over her lap. “They didn’t hesitate a bit.”

  Danielle and Stephen had readily agreed when she’d approached and suggested her idea. Michael had also questioned whether or not the family would be able to sleep knowing a crew of people with cameras and microphones lurked throughout their house.

  “I’m so tired,” Danielle had countered, “and so eager to be back in my own bed, I think I could sleep through a tornado.”

  Even Stephen had perked up a bit at the idea of this ordeal coming to an end.

  Rosie shook her head. “I guess different people make the world go round. I couldn’t handle it. They’re not worried about the spirit coming after the kids? Or does Danielle just trust you that much?”

  She slowly uncurled her spine until she sat upright once again. “It didn’t exactly come up.”

  “You didn’t tell them your theory?”

  Stretching to the side, she breathed deeply. “Danielle looked about to cry when I said they could come back and we’d complete the investigation with them here. She assumed we did it to accommodate them. I didn’t want to further distress anyone. And Steven would have scoffed anyway. He doesn’t believe in spirits or our ability to help.”

  “So you didn’t tell them?”

  “Don’t judge me. Otherwise I might need to bring up Ramón, who tried to convince you to run away to Europe with him. Just four easy payments of a thousand dollars.”

  Rosie sighed. “That’s not exactly what happened, and you know it. Still, good thing I was completely broke and didn’t have anything to give him. Fine. The makeup trailer shall be designated a judge-free zone.”

  When Kimberly felt thoroughly relaxed and loose, she shifted to her massage table. Rosie placed chakra stones on all her chakras to recharge and align her energies, then rubbed essential oils into her skin as she massaged her shoulders and hands. She needed to be her strongest yet most relaxed self tonight.

  “How are you feeling?” Rosie asked.

  “Good. Very good. And confident we can wrap this up tonight.”

  “That’s what I wanted to hear. I know you can do it. Now, how do you feel about Sterling?”

  “You’re supposed to be helping me relax and focus. Not distracting me with guy talk.”

  “You’re running out of time, though. If you finish the investigation tonight, he’ll be leaving soon.
I think you need to ask yourself if you’re okay with him disappearing from your life.”

  Did she dare admit to Rosie the very same thought had been on her mind since her conversation with him at the bar? Sure, he frustrated the heck out of her sometimes. And they operated from completely different beliefs and approaches. But she’d spoken the truth at the bar—even though part of her wanted to deny it and claim she’d wanted only to cheer him up.

  “He needs a new job. I don’t have much say in the situation.”

  “He may want a new job. But he doesn’t really need one. Not immediately anyway.” Rosie removed the chakra stones.

  “What do you mean?” She sat up and accepted a cup of tea.

  “He comes from money. His parents gave him a tidy sum when he turned twenty-one, and he invested it very well. He works because he enjoys it. But he’s not hurting for money.”

  “That can’t be right. He told Amber he wouldn’t be able to take her out to pricey restaurants or on vacations or anything.”

  Rosie raised an eyebrow at her. “He took your advice. Don’t you see? You suggested that was the only thing that would get rid of her, and he listened. Though apparently Amber ‘doesn’t do canceled.’”

  That warm, fuzzy feeling tingled in her stomach again. She turned to Rosie and narrowed her eyes. “How did you know about his money when Amber didn’t?”

  “I’m a busybody. You ought to know that better than anyone. The point is, he doesn’t need to race off and go pound the pavement for a new job. He may decide he wants to. Then again, maybe if someone gave him a reason to hang around, he would. And I get the feeling you wouldn’t mind having him around a bit longer.”

  Her silence appeared to tell Rosie everything she needed to know. With a smile, her stylist picked up the boutique bag from the counter. “I never showed you what I found for you this morning in the most adorable little boutique. They had some fantastic outfits. I know you prefer your earth tones over everything else, but I think we need to brighten you up for this last part of the investigation. I know you absolutely won’t wear red, but what about a jewel tone?”

  Rosie reached into the shopping bag and brought out a deep-purple blouse. The neckline dipped low, the center gathered in the middle, clearly intended to accentuate the breasts. She did like the flutter sleeves, though they were not a good choice for the chilly evening temperatures.

  Rosie held it up to her. “Your green eyes pop against this color. It looks fantastic on you.”

  She turned to the mirror. “You really think a different outfit will convince Sterling that he likes me? The differences are too fundamental. A new shirt isn’t going to change his mind.”

  “Dress to impress. How do you think I caught Donovan? I lured him in with a sexy outfit.”

  “Donovan . . . wasn’t he your first boyfriend after your divorce?”

  “Excellent memory! He really was incredible.”

  “Until he cheated on you with your best friend.”

  “Ex–best friend. Enough about me. Judge-free zone, remember? The point is, you’ll give off a more open vibe if you dress a certain way. Sterling likes you already. I can tell.”

  “I can’t tell. I think you’re imagining it. And if he doesn’t like me as is, then too bad. If he wants someone who looks like Amber, he should look elsewhere. I’m not changing my wardrobe to impress a guy.”

  “Come on. At least try it on for me. You’ll look phenomenal. End this season looking like a million bucks.”

  She pulled the shirt closer and noticed the tapered middle contoured nicely to her slender waist. “That is a good point. A lot of people could be watching this episode. Some maybe for the first time. Wouldn’t hurt to look especially nice. Maybe I’ll win over some new fans.”

  She slipped out of her blouse and wiggled into the new one. Just as she tugged the fabric into place around her middle, the trailer door opened and in barged Sterling, coffee tray in hand.

  Flustered by the intrusion, she snapped at him. “How about knocking next time?”

  “Except there won’t be a—” Sterling caught sight of her. His eyes took her in head to foot. “Wow. Nice shirt. It looks very nice on you.”

  She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and smoothed the shirt over her hips, not sure where to look. “Thank you.”

  He walked by Rosie as if she didn’t exist. “Not that you didn’t look nice before. I just . . . I mean, usually . . .” His gaze lingered on her cleavage before he shook his head slightly and blinked several times. “I, um, thank you for earlier. I don’t like to admit when I need help, but I did, and you were most gracious.” His eyes looked anywhere but at her breasts.

  “No problem. Of course,” she answered. After a moment’s hesitation she added, “That’s what partners do.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Partners?”

  She nodded.

  “Okay.” He couldn’t contain the smirk. It blossomed into a full-blown smile as he stepped closer and fumbled with the cups of coffee in his hands. “I brought coffee again. No sugar. Skim milk.”

  “Thank you.” Her hand brushed his as she accepted the welcome beverage. “I really appreciate this. Did you get some? Are you okay to shoot tonight?” Asking if he was inebriated seemed a poor choice at the moment.

  He ducked his head and grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Like I said, good Irish Catholic. I won’t screw up your show tonight. Scout’s honor. Plus, I’ve had two double shots. Of espresso.”

  She giggled. Giggled. She didn’t giggle. Ever. And yet Sterling Wakefield had just made her giggle. What was happening?

  She dealt with fans routinely, the especially fanatic of which always gushed and breathed rapidly and didn’t know how to act or what to say. She never gave it a second thought. Autograph something, smile, snap a picture, and off they went, happy. But Sterling’s behavior caught her off guard. She hadn’t attempted a relationship in years, and the feelings bubbling through her were scary. And yet they weren’t entirely unpleasant.

  Rosie tapped her foot. “Did you bring me mocha again? Like my beautiful skin?”

  “What? Oh! Right. Yes. Coffee for you.” He lifted a cup from the carrier and passed it to her.

  Rosie accepted the cup and mouthed, “I told you so.” No chance Sterling would notice. His eyes hadn’t left Kimberly.

  “So, Amber is gone?” she asked as the silence stretched to the point of awkwardness.

  “Yeah, I think so. Thanks for the help with her, too, by the way. You’ve really been terrific this week. I’ll miss you.”

  Her heart thumped, and she knew she should look away. But she couldn’t break his intense gaze and didn’t want the moment to end.

  The trailer door opened, and Michael stepped in.

  She and Sterling jumped apart like two children caught misbehaving.

  Michael glanced at his watch. “What’s the holdup? Are we shooting tonight or what? Ooooh, nice shirt, Kimmy. Good choice, Rosie. I know she’d never pick that herself.”

  Rosie came to the rescue. “Kimberly went over the plan for tonight, and Sterling needs a touch of powder. They’ll be right in.”

  “Great. Let’s do this.” The trailer door slammed behind him.

  Sterling ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll, uh, go ahead. I think I’m good on powder. I’ll see you inside, Kimberly.”

  “See you inside, Mr. Wakefield.”

  He shook his head. “Sterling. Partners, right?”

  Her knees turned to jelly at the look he gave her. She nodded. She would’ve agreed to anything at that moment.

  After he left, Rosie clapped and hopped up and down. “I knew it! I told you! This is awesome! If only Michael hadn’t interrupted. If only I hadn’t been here!”

  Sure she was blushing, Kimberly sipped her coffee and attempted to compose herself. “I guess you were right. About the shirt.” She turned to the mirror. Did she really look so different in this?

  “Oh, I was right all along. It wasn’t the shirt.
Sterling Wakefield has liked you since day one. Never doubt Rosie’s intuition. It’s almost as good as Kimberly Wantland’s ability to clear a house of any disturbance.”

  “Speaking of, do I look okay? I have a ghost to transition.”

  “You look like a million bucks. Go get her! And then get him.”

  30

  Kimberly pinched the bridge of her nose and entertained second thoughts about her brilliant idea to allow the Williams family back into their home before wrapping the investigation. Danielle had been so relieved. Seeing a smile on the poor woman’s face had made her feel like a hero.

  But as Drew tore through the dining and living room on his fifth lap, naked, hair soaking wet, and cackling maniacally, she realized she hadn’t completely thought this through. Then again, how could she possibly know what a bedtime ritual consisted of when she’d never lived with a child?

  Sterling raised his hands and wriggled his fingers at the streaking, laughing toddler. “Booga-booga-booga! I’m gonna get you!”

  Drew screamed with laughter and employed a burst of speed, tearing down the hall for another lap. Stephen puffed after him. “Come get your pajamas, Drew-man. Come on. Daddy is too tired to chase you.”

  She scowled at Sterling. “I don’t think you’re helping.”

  “Sure, I am. Think how good he’ll sleep after racing around like this. I’m helping wear him out.”

  “Maybe let his dad dress him first?”

  “Fair enough.” Sterling picked up a train engine from the track snaking around the living room. “Oh no, Drew! The trains need help!”

  Drew stopped in his tracks and whirled to face Sterling. “They need help?”

  “Yes,” Sterling said, eyes huge with feigned concern. He looked to her. “What kind of problems do talking trains have?”

  She shook her head and shrugged. “I have no idea. You’re on your own with this one.”

  “A . . . cat is . . . sitting on the track. No one can get him to move.”

  “A tat?” Drew stopped running and joined Sterling at the track. His eyes followed the length of the winding railway system that would surely cause an engineer heart palpitations.