Written in the Stars: A Contemporary Hollywood Romance

by Renea Mason

He changed the subject, breaking my inner turmoil. "This is where the magic happens?" Resting a hand on my desk, he hovered, every nerve ending buzzed with the awareness of his proximity.

  "I don't know about magic, but there's usually plenty of cursing, self-doubt, and frustrated tears to be had."

  He opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by a knock at my door.

  I stood and pushed in my chair. "I'll get it, in case it's not for you."

  His hand rested on the small of my back as he moved in behind me and ushered me to the door. A spark of heat ignited from his innocent touch. Ignoring the brewing fire, I answered the knock to find two uniformed officers on my front stoop.

  "Ma'am, we're to understand that Lachlan Sinclair might be with you," the first man said.

  "Yes. Come on in."

  Lachlan stood behind me, keeping his hand on my back as I ushered the men through the door. The lead police officer extended his hand to Lachlan. "Mr. Sinclair, we need to get some information from you."

  "Please, have a seat." I motioned to the sofa, loveseat, and chairs. The officers were the first to take their seats. "If you need anything, I'll be in the bedroom to give you all some privacy."

  Lachlan grabbed my hand and whispered in my ear, "Please stay, I could use the moral support." The uncertainty in his eyes would have made me do anything.

  Without waiting for my response, he led me to the living area, our hands parting as we took our seats.

  The second officer, a tall blonde man, asked, "Why don't you tell us what happened and how you ended up here?"

  "Well… we were on set coming off a break to rehearse our next scene," he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his hands pressed together. "That's when I heard the pops. I heard someone screaming. It sounded like a man, but I couldn't understand what he was saying. Kyle, my director, his phone rang, and he told me to leave, to go someplace safe. He shouted about a man with a gun looking for me. I don't know who called Kyle. I didn't wait around to ask. All of us poured out the rear doors and ran down the street. The entire cast went in different directions. I saw a cab, nearly ran in front of it. I asked the driver to keep driving. Once we got away from the studio, I Googled Katherine's address, then had him bring me here."

  The cop with more chevrons marking his sleeve jotted some notes on a small pocket pad and asked, "Did you see the suspect?"

  Lachlan sighed. "No. As I said, I heard the yelling, but that was it. Is everyone alright? The news said no one was hurt, that's true, right?"

  Blonde cop chimed in, "Yes, everyone's fine. He fired off some shots, but no one was hit." He turned his attention to me. "What is your name, ma'am?"

  "Katherine Acosta."

  The officer scribbled my name on his pad. "How do you two know each other?" He motioned between us.

  Lachlan didn't hesitate. "We met on the flight to LA last week. She's the only person I know in the city, and I didn't think anyone would suspect me being here. I called Kyle to have him tell you where I was. Do you think this has anything to do with my stalker problem back in LA?"

  The lead officer looked through his notes. "It's hard to say. Kyle brought us up to speed on the stalker. It could be. Unfortunately, the shooter got away. We're following some leads now, but who else knows you're here?"

  "Just you, Kyle, the cab driver, and Katherine."

  "Any reason someone might suspect you're here?"

  Lachlan's answer was quick. "No, I don't think anyone knows Katherine and I know each other."

  I rubbed my hands down the seams of my pants. "I'm not sure about that."

  "Oh, your friends, right. Her friends probably know."

  I swallowed hard. "No, my friends don't know I met you."

  He raised an eyebrow. "They don't?"

  "No, sorry, it never came up, but there were tabloid photos from our time on the plane. I didn't think anyone could recognize me, but I started getting these strange requests on Facebook a day or two later. They all had some variation of Lachlan's name."

  Lachlan looked at me. "How many requests?"

  "Five."

  He patted my knee and turned his attention to the officers. "That's nothing to worry about."

  I nudged his arm, trying to get his attention, but he focused on the policemen. "Obviously, someone was able to identify me, or I wouldn't have received those requests."

  "No worries, love. That was me. We can talk about how your rejection wounded my ego later." He squeezed my knee again, and I tried to collect my emotions.

  Had he really tried to contact me?

  The second officer smirked before saying, "So, you're saying that this is a pretty safe place for you to be, Mr. Sinclair?"

  He turned to look at me, uncertainty lacing his features. I felt his unspoken question.

  "You're welcome to stay here as long as you need."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes. I'm happy to help."

  He smiled. "Of course you are."

  The head officer stood. "OK. We'll be in touch. If you need to leave, please let us know, so we can take precautions and get you added security. We'll put an unmarked car on surveillance. Hopefully, we'll catch this guy soon."

  We all stood, and I walked the officers to the door. They each handed Lachlan and me their cards. "Mr. Sinclair, Ms. Acosta, if anything unusual should happen, call us immediately."

  "Will do." I closed the door. When I turned around, I ran directly into Lachlan's chest. "I'm sorry," I blurted out and shifted back up a step.

  His arms wound around my waist, steadying me, holding me against him. The electric feeling between us was dangerous. "So… you haven't told your friends about me?" His stare was so intense, it felt like a dare.

  "No," I breathed.

  "Why not?"

  "I'm confused. Why would I? You said you don't like the attention. Why would I indulge their fanaticism?"

  His lips pulled up at the corners into a wicked smile. "You didn't tell your friends because you were considering my feelings? Someone you never expected to meet again? Someone you wouldn't even accept a Facebook request from?"

  "Just because I never expected to see you again, doesn't mean I'd treat you any differently than if I were to see you every day. The Facebook thing…really could you blame me? There are a lot of fake accounts, and the tabloid put out a call for my identity."

  "True." He paused, an inquisitive look in his eyes. "I thought you enjoyed our time on the plane, though."

  "I did. But that doesn't mean I'd expected it to be anything more than what it was."

  His facial expression was unreadable. "And what was it, Katherine?"

  "Six hours in time where two people were what the other needed."

  He looked at the floor, his mood changing for something more forlorn. "Thank you for letting me stay. It seems I'm in your debt again."

  "No one's keeping score." I picked up his empty coffee cup from the table and waved him on to follow me. "Let me show you to the guest room. Help yourself to anything you need around the house. If there's something you can't find, let me know. I can pick it up when I head out tomorrow."

  Before I could take a step toward the guest room, he grabbed my hand and pulled me in for a hug. "I can't thank you enough." He kissed the top of my head.

  His arms were so warm and inviting. Lachlan Sinclair was dangerous for me. His tactile style made me delightfully uneasy. My nerve impulses electrified by each touch. Perhaps being an actor made him more at ease in other's personal space. I had spent so much time alone...I was hyper-aware of every breath he took, every brush of his fingers. His mere proximity made it difficult to think. "You're very welcome. Come on." I directed him toward his room.

  Later that evening, I milled about the kitchen, trying to decide what to prepare for dinner. Lachlan had been holed-up in the guest room for the past several hours. I didn't want to disturb him, but I also didn't want to make something he couldn't eat.

  I approached the slightly ajar door and
knocked on the doorframe.

  He was spread out on the bed, looking at something on his phone.

  "Lachlan?"

  "Coming." He hopped off the bed and strode to me, invading my personal space. "Yes…"

  I took a deep breath, trying to ignore how his proximity affected me. "I'm going to make something for dinner, and I wasn't sure if you have any dietary restrictions or if there is something you don't like."

  "I'm pretty flexible. Give me a second, and I'll come help."

  "You don't need to." I pressed my hand against his chest to urge him to stay then jerked it away. Now, I was invading his personal space.

  He flashed a radiant smile that made me blush. "I want to."

  Following me to the kitchen, he asked, "What about you? Any culinary kryptonite?"

  I walked to the sink and washed my hands. "Not a fan of anchovies, but most everything else, it's all about preparation. No allergies or anything like that."

  He pressed against my side and followed my lead, running his soapy hands under the water. "Well, that makes things easy. I mean, both of us being flexible. Endless possibilities."

  I couldn't help but grin at his innuendo.

  He leaned in close to my ear and said, "What do you have in mind for tonight?" The suggestive tone made me start to ponder his endless possibilities, but he quickly clarified, "For dinner, I mean."

  "Stir fry, maybe?" I opened the refrigerator.

  "Perfect." He was quick to grab the vegetables and found the knives next to the stove.

  The experience was pleasant and comfortable, fun even. But my hyper-awareness of him kept me on edge. Every flirty nudge that occurred as we danced around each other through my kitchen, every time he pushed passed me to reach for an ingredient, every single devastating smile he shot my way sent my pulse racing. It had been so long since I had been intimate with anyone; it was as though my body was begging me to let my guard down. I had to be the voice of reason.

  "How did things go with the agent?" His sudden question pulled me from my musings.

  I laughed. "Oh, well, I'd say I killed it, but he was already dead before I got there, so I can't take credit."

  He stopped slicing through broccoli. "He died?"

  "Apparently, he had a heart attack the day before, and they forgot to tell me. The entire trip was a huge waste of time."

  Over the sound of the knife impacting the cutting board, he said, "I hope you don't mind if I respectfully disagree. I'm quite happy you made the trip."

  I paused before retrieving the rice from the cabinet. "OK. Some parts made it worth it."

  "Which parts, love? The part where you spilled hot coffee on that ignorant sod's lap? He deserved it, by the way. Or the part where you snuggled for six hours with a handsome Brit?"

  I chuckled. "Hmm…Close call. The look on that guy's face truly was priceless, but the Brit sort of had me at, 'I lost my wallet.'"

  He looked up from his task and grinned. "Way back then? Even when you thought he was a bumbling fool incapable of keeping track of his belongings? It wasn't when you found out that a plane full of women were gaga for his naughty bits?" Lachlan had an uncanny way of acknowledging reality. He knew who and what he was. There was no self-deprecation, but also, no arrogance. It was simply fact.

  I grinned at him. "Oh, definitely, the man in distress. Whatever happened to your wallet anyway? Did you find it?"

  "Oh, yes. Just before I was about to board the plane, I found it in the rear pocket of my messenger bag. No bloody idea why I put it there. Probably the rush through security." He combed his hand through his hair, a tinge of embarrassment, coloring his cheeks. "Curious, did you at least watch the movie to see what all the fuss was about?" He kept his eyes trained on the carrots he was dicing and waited for me to answer with a smirk on his face.

  "No. I'm still a Lachlan Sinclair virgin, I'm afraid."

  His voice echoed through the kitchen. "What? You didn't watch any of my works?"

  I wasn't sure what to say. With a slight shrug, I answered, "Sorry? I told you I don't watch much TV or go to the movies."

  The next thing he did would be the stuff of my fantasies for nights to come. He wiped his hands on the dishtowel and casually pinned me to the counter with his body. "Oh, we are going to have to do something about that. You can't stay a virgin forever, Katherine."

  At that moment, that was exactly what I felt like—a virgin. With his body pressed against me, I found it hard to think. I wasn't a virgin, though. I was an experienced woman. A woman who brought others gratification through words. "You're right, but just think… all that delayed gratification. The waiting. The anticipation. It will just make the reward that much sweeter."

  He stared into my eyes, and for a moment, I thought he might try to kiss me. A sly smile quirked at the corner of his mouth. "Well…" His tongue swiped over his bottom lip. "Since you put it that way, who am I to argue? When I finally deflower you, it will be a night we'll never forget." He pressed a kiss to my forehead, stepped away, and went back to chopping.

  His chaste kiss was still an intimate gesture for two people who'd spent less than twenty-four hours together, but my body didn't want it to stop there. My mind reveled in why he felt so comfortable being so friendly, but explained it away by his profession. He would be at ease with strangers in ways I couldn't be.

  With the meal plated, the wine poured, and us both seated at my breakfast nook, the small talk flowed, yet I had lingering curiosities. Someone had tried to kill him. Surely, there was a worthwhile story behind the shooter's motivation. I didn't want to pry, but I needed to know.

  "I apologize if this is too personal, but I've been wondering… you said you think you know who's behind the shooting. Who do you suppose it is? Why would anyone want to kill you?"

  He wiped his mouth with his napkin and turned to face me. "I was wondering when you'd ask."

  "Honestly, I wasn't going to. I tend to let people tell me what they want me to know, let them control their story and how much of it they want to divulge. On the other hand, I almost feel like you want me to ask, like you're waiting for me to."

  He reached over and brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. "You're probably right. I wasn't sure how much you knew, but since you haven't even been curious enough to watch my movies, I'm guessing you haven't Googled me either."

  I took a sip of wine. "You'd be correct. So, you get to tell your own story. Unfiltered, no lens trying to frame it. You are in full control. I'm all ears."

  Looking down at the counter, he said, "Well, that's a luxury I haven't had for a long time. Most times, I'm correcting the narrative."

  "So now, tell me why anyone would want to kill a man who can chop vegetables like a master chef?"

  He cocked an eyebrow and smirked. "Impressed with my skills, are you?" His suggestive tone could not be mistaken.

  "Very. Now, inquiring minds..." I waved my hand, urging him to spill.

  After taking a large swig of wine, he began. "I think I told you I sort of fell into acting. My father is an actor, and even though he's not as well-known as I am now, he has a prolific career and built quite a portfolio for himself. He had a good manager and lots of contacts. I started local productions at an early age, but I didn't really start taking it seriously until after my mother died."

  I touched his hand, not offering an apology, but instead, comfort.

  To my surprise, he laced his fingers with mine and continued. "I fit a certain physical profile conducive to film and began auditioning. My success came easy. My father had forged the path. I just needed to follow, but places like Hollywood, they can be overwhelming and filled with pitfalls. I was young, surrounded by beautiful people who'd tell me beautiful things, and I believed it all. I tended to be a very trusting person back then."

  "You still seem to be, at least with me."

  "Well, you're different. I'm a lot more guarded these days and for good reason." He fingered the thin stem of his glass, mindlessly. "I started developing a
fan base. My co-stars told me to be careful. I even knew my father had some issues, but his success was much different than mine. His were minor inconveniences. He didn't have my young female following. I was always careful, but being young and stupid, I decided it was foolish for me not to enjoy my success. I was a young man surrounded by beautiful women. I would have been crazy not to indulge."

  "Don't think most would have given it that much thought," I added, folding my napkin neatly next to my plate.

  "Well, forty-year-old me would have told twenty-year-old me none of it was worth the price. Nights of meaningless sex came with plenty of strings attached—false accusations trying to extort me for money. Some saw a night of passion as much more than what it was, and they would get angry when it wasn't. The threats…" He shook his head with a hint of disgust, lining his handsome face. "It all came at a very high price. Eventually, I got married and tried to settle down, but it didn't work. I've made so many mistakes during my career, but one keeps coming back to haunt me."

  I squeezed his hand, trying to reassure him it was OK.

  "Katherine, I've done things I'm not proud of. I see now why my thought process was wrong, but…" He took a deep breath. "Several cast members and I were at a cocktail party, celebrating the end of filming. A young woman named Amy approached me. She worked at the establishment as a waitress. She was a big fan. Throughout the night, she kept gravitating toward me. She was beautiful. I had a bit too much to drink, and the next thing I knew, we are in my hotel room. She adored me. Her overwhelming attention was intoxicating. I hooked up with her anytime I was in LA. It was only sex, nothing really beyond that, and things were fine until I had to break it off. I started seeing Cindy, my co-star, and things were getting serious. Amy found out via the media and was furious. I was with Amy just two months prior, and she was angry. She started leaving me harassing calls. Eventually, she left a message saying she was pregnant." He paused and rubbed his forehead.

  It never occurred to me to ask him if he had children. I hated seeing the pain in his features. "Here, let me get you some more wine." I stood, retrieved the bottle, and refilled his glass.

  To my surprise, he grabbed my hand again and held it as he continued. "Of course, that news put a strain on my new relationship. Cindy almost left me. I was fully prepared to take responsibility, but Amy aborted the child without talking to me first, which made a bad situation worse. I never asked her to do it. She never consulted me. If I were responsible, I would have done the right thing. Her solution, however, presented a new problem, there was no opportunity for paternity testing, so it was my word against hers. Even though I was careful and used protection when she and I were together, nothing is one hundred percent. She eventually went to the media. Her family sent Cindy letters saying she murdered Amy's child because she took me away from Amy. For the next several years, Amy was in and out of institutions, according to the messages I received from her family. Most of them came from one brother in particular."