First, she called Sam, who began ranting about pirated scenes and a lunatic Brazilian hacker, before she could even say hello. He spit out words so fast she could only catch half of what he said.

“But how could this have happened?” she demanded after she finally understood the gist. “And what are you going to do about it?”

“Somehow the kid hacked into my laptop, that’s how, damn it,” Sam yelled. “I’ve got firewalls. She’s fifteen! That little hacker gave away everything. For nothing! Just ’cause she’s got the hots for Hugh. She’s cost us millions. Maybe cost me my job. She’s denying it, of course, but we’ve got her IP address.”

After more of the same, Sam finally wound down and hung up.

Oh, God, had Zach seen the video? With grim foreboding, Summer listened to Gram’s message.

“Everybody’s been telling me about some love scenes you’re in… What’s going on? Call me!”

Of course, Zach had seen them. Taken out of context, the scenes might look pornographic and might compromise the integrity of the movie, not to mention her integrity as an actress. Summer felt violated, but her main concern was how Zach would interpret those scenes.

With a heavy heart, she listened to Gram’s second message.

“You swore to me you weren’t going to take off all your clothes. And what about Zach? Everybody says you’re his date tonight. Call me.”

She hadn’t been nude. A double had been used in the only nude shot.

Press coverage had caused tension at home before. Why couldn’t Gram learn not to believe all the lies that were printed about celebrities to sell newspapers?

It would be nice to have understanding and support from those who loved her and really knew her. But, no, those closest to her were as easily manipulated by the press as everybody else.

Feeling very much abused and in no mood to explain herself to anyone-not the town or even Zach-she shut her phone off and buried it in the bottom of her purse.


* * *

Thibodeaux House was so dark she could barely see it among the trees when Bob dropped her in the drive.

As she was heading up the walk, he called after her. “Hey! Zach just sent me a text. He’ll be here at six to pick you up for the ceremony.”

Fumbling with the keys Bob had handed her, she let herself into Zach’s shadowy house and unset his alarm.

Had Zach seen the pirated scenes? Did he think the worst of her?

Of course, he did. And he was furious, no doubt.

Carrying her bag, she went to her room and threw herself on the bed. There she lay, hugging herself, as she listened to the birds and the creaks of the old house as the light went out of the sky. She knew she should get ready, but she felt too weary to move.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, she heard Zach’s car on the gravel drive. She ran to the window and watched him walk grim-faced toward the house.

The front door opened and slammed. He strode briskly into the kitchen. When she heard his heavy tread on the stairs, she sat up warily. He hadn’t even bothered to check on her.

As if he read her mind, he stopped. She held her breath during that interim before he headed back down the stairs.

Finally, he rapped his knuckles on the door.

“Come in,” she whispered brokenly.

He flung the door open and stared at her across the darkness, his blazing eyes accusing her. When he flipped on the light, she sat up, brushed her fingers through her hair.

“Not ready I see.” His voice was hard and clipped.

“I was tired,” she whispered.

“I can well imagine.” His black eyes glittered coldly.

“I didn’t know what to wear… Or if you’d still want me to go with you…”

“Not go when everybody in Bonne Terre is so anxious to see you?” he said in a low, cutting tone. “Not that you left much of yourself to the imagination.”

“I can explain…”

“I’m sure-but why bother? Besides, my PR guys are thrilled. They say all your internet coverage is great for Torr Corporation.”

He walked over to the luggage rack and unzipped her suitcase. After rummaging through her clothes, he yanked out a low-cut, ruby-red gown that a personal shopper had bought for her in L.A. before she’d known about the pirated love scenes.

“Wear the red. Perfect choice,” he said. “You’ll look the part your legions of fans expect you to play. And you’ll be gorgeous beside me, which is all my PR people care about.”

But what did he care about? Whatever it was, it was devouring him alive.

“Zach, I haven’t seen the videos, so I don’t know exactly what you saw… But I was acting.”

“Save it! I’ll be back down in a minute!”

“Please-I can explain…”

“Sorry. I don’t have time for one of your offscreen Oscar performances. Although you’re good-very good. And you were even better last week-in my bed.”

He slammed the door in her face and was gone. As she listened to him stomp up the stairs, her heart constricted so tightly she was afraid it would shatter into a million tiny pieces. So, he didn’t care how she felt at all.

“You’ll get through this,” she whispered to herself. “You’ve gotten through worse.”

But had she? She’d never gotten over him… Or their precious baby.

Don’t think about that. You’ll go crazy if you do.


* * *

Zach didn’t speak to her on the drive over, and he looked so grim and forbidding she decided it was wise to give him time.

She had done nothing wrong. She’d done her job. Actors acted. She hadn’t made love to Hugh for the camera. Her character had. She didn’t even like Hugh. It wasn’t her fault someone had stolen the video.

Something told her Zach’s mood went deeper than jealousy.

The glow that hung over the trees ahead of them brightened as they neared the construction site. When they reached their destination, Zach parked and helped her out of the car. She drew in an awed breath.

The construction site looked nothing like it had last weekend. Transformed into an enchanted fairyland, it was lit by a thousand lanterns. White tents covered dance floors and a dining area. Champagne was being served by a dozen bartenders. Warm laughter and music drifted through the happy crowd. A podium had been set up in front of a thousand chairs.

No sooner had he stopped his Mercedes than reporters and photographers surrounded them.

Taking her icy hand, Zach led her into the thick of the paparazzi where they were blinded by flashes.

His expression fierce, Zach gave the screaming horde a brief statement and posed beside her for more pictures. Then he’d had enough. She hardly knew how he managed it, but with a wave of his hand, his own people led them past the press and into a cordoned-off area where the music and laughter died. For a full minute, she clung to Zach’s arm, while he braved this fresh crowd gaping at them with stunned expressions.

Before those prying eyes, she began to tremble, feeling the same guilt she’d known fifteen years ago when these same people had thought the worst of her and Zach.

“Easy,” Zach whispered against her ear as he placed a protective hand over hers. Then he signaled his contractor and the band, and the music resumed.

We’ve never done anything wrong, she thought. We were wronged.

Slowly, people turned away and began talking once more. Still, even though Summer held her head high, she felt their lingering interest too acutely; just as she felt the steely tension emanating from Zach’s hard body beside her.

Never had she been more conscious of having a spellbound audience. During the politicians’ speeches and the ceremonial breaking of the ground with shovels, people couldn’t stop staring at her and Zach.

She couldn’t let their stares matter. All that mattered was Zach.

Maybe he was furious at her. Maybe he felt utterly betrayed. Never once did he leave her side, but perhaps he was putting on a show for the public. Would he make such an immense effort to show his support merely for publicity reasons?

He even danced with her beneath the softly lit lanterns and moonlight, holding her close, swirling her about while all she wanted was to run home and have him to herself so she could explain.

Instead, he forced her to brave the curious, fawning crowd, forced her to stay until all the important guests and photographers had departed. Only then did he whisper in her ear, in a tone that chilled her to the bone, “The crowd has lost their appetite to devour you. Time for us to go home, sweetheart, and start our weekend.”

Once they were out of the area that had been cordoned off from the paparazzi, the horde chased them to his Mercedes.

A microphone was shoved in her face. “Is Torr your man now?”

“No comment,” snapped Zach as someone snickered.

“When do you plan to make up your mind, Summer?”

Summer felt a jolt as Zach shoved a reporter aside so he could open her door.

A flash went off in her face, blinding her as Zach raced around the hood.

He jumped behind the wheel. “Get your head down. There are cameras everywhere.”

“I thought this was what your PR guys wanted.”

“Yes, they’re probably thrilled.”

A moment later, he sped out of the parking lot with the pack tailing them. Inside his Mercedes, which was lit by the headlights of the paparazzi, Zach was fiercely silent behind the wheel. So fierce, she thought his anger had built during the opening ceremonies. She didn’t dare say a word during that endless drive through that tunnel of trees to his home.

No sooner were they at his house than the photographers circled them, snapping photographs and yelling questions again.

Zach put his arms tightly around her, shielding her face, and escorted her inside.

“I can see that after this, I’m going to have to build a wall and hire guards to protect my privacy,” he muttered once they were in his living room and had drawn the drapes.