"Interesting. Kristie told me that one of your grandsons stopped by early yesterday evening. Walker. That he'd called first and you'd told him not to come, but he'd shown up anyway."

The information had stunned Lori. After all, in her mind, Gloria had been the abandoned elder of the family. But first the old woman had refused to see Cal and now she'd told Walker to go away. As much as Lori hated to admit it, Reid might have had a point when he'd said his grandmother was a little difficult.

Gloria narrowed her eyes. "This is none of your business. You mention my family again and you're fired."

Lori pretended to yawn. "I'm sorry. What? Did you say something?"

"Don't think I can't," Gloria told her. "One call to the agency that employs you and you're gone."

Lori shook her head. "You don't want me gone. I'm tough on you and you respect that. I care about you and you need that. You can't be mean enough or crabby enough to scare me away, and that's new for you. So here's the question. Why are you trying so hard to live your life alone?"

Gloria pointed at the door. "Get out. Get out now."

Lori was about to argue when she felt a queasiness in her stomach. She nodded and left, heading directly for the kitchen. By the time she hit the back hallway, she was shaking and feeling close to fainting.

A quick glance at her watch told her she'd gone too long without food. She knew better, but between the reporter's ambush and her morning workout with Gloria, she hadn't noticed the time.

She walked into the kitchen only to find the one person she most didn't want to see. Reid.

He looked up from the thick stack of papers he was reading and smiled at her. "I heard shouting. Should I be worried?"

She was already pretty weak, what with her blood sugar crashing, so the last thing she needed was a visceral reaction to a useless, possibly horrible, man.

But there it was- a sudden fluttering of her heart, a trembling of her thighs that had nothing to do with needing to eat and everything to do with needing a man.

But why did it have to be this one?

"We're good," she said and walked to the refrigerator, where she'd stashed a bottle of juice. But before she got there, he was on his feet, next to her.

"Lori? What's wrong? You look like crap."

"Gee, thanks."

"I'm serious." He touched her cheek. "You're sweating. And shaking."

The light brush of his fingers was nothing. Less than nothing. Yet she found herself leaning into the contact and imagining him touching her everywhere. So humiliating. She had to remember there wasn't an actual person inside. That he was nothing more than a pretty shell. A shell who liked to take pictures.

"I have low blood sugar. I'm crashing. Go away, I'll be fine."

He ignored her much as she ignored Gloria's demands that she go away. "What do you need?"

Oral sex? No, wait. That wasn't right. "Juice. Food."

"Done."

He pushed her into a chair and then got her a glass of orange juice. She gulped half of it, then let the high-sugar liquid sit on her tongue for a few seconds before swallowing.

The results were nearly instantaneous. The trembling stopped, her body relaxed and she started to feel almost normal.

"Better," she said, looking at him. "Thanks. Go away."

"That's nice," he said sarcastically. "Who crapped on your day?"

"Honestly? You. There was a reporter waiting for me outside your grandmother's front door this morning. She wanted me to confirm you were staying here, which I didn't. Just to put a little sparkle in my schedule, she showed me some pictures she'd downloaded from the Internet. Guess who was the star?"

His expression tightened as he swore. "I thought they were gone."

"You knew about them?" She couldn't decide if that was good or bad.

"They were taken about six years ago," he said grimly. "Without my knowledge. This woman I was with wanted proof to show her friends. One of them suggested she get a little more publicity, so she posted them online."

He sounded embarrassed and mad and frustrated. Lori wanted to believe he wasn't to blame, but it was difficult. "How have you been living your life?" she asked. "This sort of thing doesn't happen to normal people. The pictures, the reporter. You need to get your act together."

"I'm trying. But stuff like this makes it impossible. I even got a court order that the pictures be removed from the Web site. But they're still showing up on other sites. I don't want to talk about it anymore. You feel okay now?"

The change of topic caught her off guard. "Yes. I have to eat something."

"To maintain a higher blood sugar?"

She nodded. "Chocolate would be best. Preferably from Seattle Chocolates."

"You're kidding. That can't be good for you."

"It's not." Like him. "But it's my fantasy and I can have it if I want to."

He shook his head and muttered something under his breath. "Okay. Let's see what real food we've got."

He opened the refrigerator again and began pulling out ingredients. Shredded cheese, some cooked chicken, salsa and large flour tortillas. Food she didn't remember being in there before.

"Did you go to the grocery store?" she asked.

"I went online and they delivered. There wasn't anything in this kitchen."

At least the Internet was good for something, she thought. "Gloria's meals are delivered fully cooked. I bring in my own stuff."

He shrugged and dug around for a large frying pan. "Now we have real food."

"What are you doing?"

"Making you a quesadilla."

She wasn't sure which shocked her more- that he knew how, or that he was making one for her. "You can cook?"

"I have a few specialties. I'm very multitalented."

"I brought my lunch."

He glanced at her. "No, that's not it. Let me think. Oh, yeah. How about 'Reid, thanks so much for making me food and saving me from death.'"

She smiled reluctantly. "You have a well-developed sense of the dramatic."

"I'm used to being adored."

She was sure of that. Although some of his fans had turned against him.

She wondered what it would be like to be so much in the public eye, then decided it couldn't be a good thing. Complicating an already difficult situation was the fact that Reid had a real habit of making lousy choices when it came to women.

As he heated the pan and assembled the quesadilla, he asked, "How's it going with Gloria?"

"Great. She's making progress."

"She's a challenge," he told her. "You can say it."

"Not even under threat of torture."

He raised his eyebrows. "So I was right. Admit it."

"I won't. I still believe her family helped make her the way she is. She's alone and lonely."

"She's crabby, difficult and mean."

"She's not mean. Not to me."

"You don't know her well enough," Reid said as he slid the folded tortilla onto the hot pan.

Lori set down her empty glass and tried to find something to look at other than the man at the stove. If she didn't distract herself, she was afraid she'd start drooling.

It didn't seem to matter that his character was suspect. Her body wasn't interested in the three thousand other women he'd had sex with. It just wanted to be number three thousand and one. How sad was that?

She picked up the top sheet of paper from the stack Reid had been going through.

"What's this?" she asked as she scanned a letter from a boy wanting an autograph.

"A bunch of crap sent over by my manager," Reid grumbled. "I let his office handle all my fan mail, which might have been a mistake."

Lori remembered the slams about Reid ignoring kids in need in the newspaper article.

He flipped the tortilla. "I didn't want to bother," he said grimly. "That's my big crime. So I trusted others to take care of things and apparently they did a piss-poor job. Seth's response to everything was to send a check."

"Seth's the business manager?"

He nodded. "I was invited to a hospital opening and didn't know. They put me on the program and everything. That's not good."

"But if you didn't know, it's not your fault." Wait! Was she defending him? She resisted the need to slap herself. Didn't she consider him useless? Hello, naked pictures. That had to mean something.

"Tell that to the people waiting for me to show up." He grabbed a plate from the cupboard and slid the quesadilla onto it. "It gets worse. Some kid who was dying wanted to meet me as his last wish. But I didn't show up. Instead he got an autographed picture and a signed baseball."

Reid handed her the food, then slumped down across from her. "It all just sucks."

She was torn, both feeling sorry for him and wanting to shake him. "You're some famous baseball player, right?" she asked before taking a bite. The quesadilla was perfect- hot, with melted cheese, grilled chicken and just a hint of spice.

"Used to be."

"Then you're in a position to make a difference on a much bigger scale than most people. Things went bad. You can't change that, but you can fix things. The paper mentioned some kids who got stranded with no return ticket. Pay them back. Call the kid and go see him now. Manage your fan mail, yell at your manager or fire him. Get involved."

Reid stared out the window over the sink. "It's not that easy."

Okay, now shaking him had a definite priority over pity. "It can be. I know you were too busy with your exciting life before, but you don't have that excuse anymore. You have a responsibility. Be the person everyone expects you to be. Grow up. You might surprise yourself."

"You don't think much of me, do you?"

"No."

He gave her a slow, sexy smile. One that gave a whole new meaning to the phrase blown away. If he'd shown her the slightest bit of interest, she would have ripped off her clothes and done it with him right there on the kitchen table.