Bombshell (Hollywood A-List #1)(15)

I needed a personal assistant. It was taking me too long to learn my lines, and she knew enough about me to give me the help I needed. I got the studio to pay her. My first taste of privilege. The rest wouldn’t fall into place for almost a year.

“Your line,” she said. “Inside you.”

“That makes no sense,” I objected.

“I’m sure their million-dollar script doctor would love to hear all your thoughts, honey. But then they’ll change it.”

“How can he be worried about his own heart if it’s somewhere else? If it’s with her, his life isn’t what he’s talking about.”

“My mommy is the yellow flowers!”

Nicole’s voice rose above the birds and breeze for the third time in as many minutes. She and the birds made fusion jazz in the garden. If it got humid enough, I could pretend I was in Arkansas for sweet minutes at a time.

“You do this every time.” Paula leaned over and put her hand over mine. “You’re so hard on yourself. Just get the lines.”

“I want a pink one!” Nicole’s voice again. “We can make it live in water for Daddy.”

Paula took her hand away and leaned back, making that smile that looked like sunshine and waterfalls but actually signified a deep annoyance. “How about we go inside? Maybe if it’s quiet you’ll be able to concentrate.”

“I don’t have ADD. Concentrating isn’t a problem.”

I wasn’t being obstructive. I really didn’t mind distractions.

Paula was usually cool and unflappable, exactly what I needed, but she was acting as though one kid caused world chaos. I’d been raised with kids everywhere, so I knew what chaos looked like and seen adults ignore it.

She leaned forward, ice blue eyes sharp with intent. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking about you. I worry. You know that.”

Nicole ran onto the patio with a bunch of flowers that looked like they came from the boxes on the edge of the fire pit. I never gave the flowers a thought. I had people who took care of that sort of thing. But when she came running to me with a fistful of yellow, I was glad I’d hired gardeners.

“Here!” she cried, pushing them into my chest. “These are Mommy!”

“You mean from Mommy?”

“No!” She screwed up her eyebrows and crossed her arms.

“Just go with it,” Cara said from behind the girl. “I’ll explain later.” With the sun behind her, she was just a silhouette softened with glare. She shifted until my eyes were in the shade and I could see her.

Paula was constantly between us with her big Arkansas smile and her way of taking care of everything. But even with Paula’s obstruction, I could feel Cara a room away. I’d been fantasizing about her since she leaned over the pool table to miss the four. My fantasies were frustratingly generic. I couldn’t hear her voice in my head because I didn’t talk to her enough to recreate it. I had no way of knowing what she’d say or do. Yet, I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

I sniffed the flowers with a big sucking sound.

“Mommy smells great,” I said. The nanny smiled at me. I got stuck in that smile for a second. It was the first time she’d smiled at me and not in spite of me.

Nicole climbed into my lap. “What are you doing?”

“Working,” Paula said, closing her script and smiling. “Cara, honey, be a peach and go swimming or something with Miss Bombshell while Daddy works.”

“Come on, Nicole.” Cara held her hand out. “Let’s go have a snack. We can put those in water.”

I tilted the yellow daisy to the side and spoke in a high-pitched voice.

“Water, please, Nicole, put me in water. I’m so thirsty.”

“Aw, poor flowermommy.” She stroked the petals. Cara smiled.

I put my fingers in Nicole’s hair. It was well brushed and smooth. I caught on a knot and gently pulled it apart. I searched for another tangle. Found one.

“Does she need a haircut?”

“No!” Nicole exclaimed. “Mommy liked it long.”

“Well, far be it from me to interrupt family time.” Paula stood up. “I’m going to use the facilities.”

“Okay, bye, Paula. Drink some water for me,” I made the flower squeak. Nicole loved it, and Cara laughed, hands folded in front of her. Paula disappeared into the house. Cara watched her go, then glanced at me.

She cast her eyes down when they met mine. It was weirdly demure. Then she tucked her hair behind her ear. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was so sharp and smart, but there was something about that pose, the tilt of her head, looking down at my daughter, fingertip barely touching her hair.

Nicole addressed the flower. “Mommy, do you think Cara’s pretty?”

I thought . . . well, no. I didn’t think. I knew. I just couldn’t say. Unless I hid behind the voice of Brenda Garcia, who I’d barely known. I felt entitled to speak my mind in that disguise.

“Very pretty,” Brenda’s voice said from the flower.

Cara’s face turned pink. Shit. What was I thinking?

“Is it okay if she’s my new mommy?”

“Peanut butter and jelly!” Cara exclaimed before I could answer. “Let’s eat lunch!”

Thank God, because I almost said yes.