“Lunch is at twelve-thirty,” she said. “Be on time.” As she turned to go back downstairs, she saw Georgie standing in the office doorway, filming the whole thing with her video camera.

Chaz slammed her hands on her hips. “That’s illegal, you know. Filming people without their permission.”

Georgie kept her eye glued to the camera. “Get a lawyer.”

Chaz stomped into the hallway and headed for the back stairs. Georgie was the last person she wanted to talk to right now. Yesterday, when Georgie got home with Bram, they’d both been acting weird. Georgie had beard-burn on her neck, and she wouldn’t look at Bram, who kept smiling at her in this kind of smart-ass way. Chaz didn’t know what was going on with them. They thought she hadn’t figured out they’d been sleeping in separate rooms-like Georgie knew how to make a bed so it looked halfway decent. So what had happened yesterday?

Chaz thought about how much money she could make if she went to the tabloids and told them about the famous newlyweds and their separate beds. Maybe she’d do it, too, if it would only hurt Georgie. But she wouldn’t hurt Bram.

Georgie trailed her down the back stairs. “Why do you give Aaron such a hard time?”

Chaz could have asked a few questions of her own, like why Georgie gave Bram such a hard time, and what had happened yesterday, and why Georgie had still slept in her own bed last night? But she’d learned to keep what she knew to herself until she had a reason to use it.

“I’ve got a better question,” Chaz said. “Why haven’t you tried to help Aaron? He’s a mess. He can hardly walk upstairs without practically having a heart attack.”

“And you like to clean up messes.”

“So what?” This whole camera thing was weird. She didn’t know why Georgie kept filming her or why Chaz didn’t just refuse to talk. But every time Georgie came after her with that camera, Chaz found herself blabbing away. It was like…like talking about herself to the camera somehow made her important. Like her life was special, and she had something worth saying.

They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Georgie followed her into the kitchen. “Tell me what happened after you left Barstow.”

“I told you. I came to L.A. and found a place to stay off Sunset.”

“You hardly had any money. How did you make rent?”

“I got a job. What do you think?”

“What kind of job?”

“I have to pee.” She headed toward the small bathroom off the kitchen. “Are you going to follow me in here, too?” She shut the door and locked it. Nobody would ever make her talk about what happened when she got to L.A. Nobody.

When she came out, Georgie had disappeared and Bram was finishing a phone call. She picked up a dishcloth and wiped the counter. “Tell Georgie to stop following me around with that camera,” she said as he hung up.

“It’s hard to tell Georgie anything.” He pulled the iced tea pitcher from the refrigerator.

“What’s with her anyway? Why does she keep doing it?”

“Who knows? A couple of days ago I saw her filming the women who clean the house. She was talking to them in Spanish.”

Chaz wouldn’t admit it, but she didn’t like the idea of Georgie filming anybody but her. “Good. Maybe she won’t bother me so much.”

Bram fingered his cell phone. “Have you done it yet?”

She opened the dishwasher and stuck in the glasses from breakfast. “I’m thinking about it.”

“Chaz, there’s a big world out there. You can’t hide here forever.”

“I’m not hiding! Now do you mind? People are coming to dinner tomorrow night, and I have a lot of things to do.”

He shook his head. “Sometimes I don’t think I did you a favor by giving you a job.”

He was wrong. He’d done her the biggest favor of her life, and she’d never forget it.

That afternoon, as Georgie got dressed for the paps, she kept asking herself why sex with a bad boy was so much more thrilling than getting it on with a decent guy. Even if that decent guy had left her for another woman. So why had she made herself sleep alone last night? Because yesterday had been too good. Too much fun. Too deliciously debauched. So mindless and uncomplicated she wasn’t ready to spoil it with real life. She’d also wanted Bram to understand she hadn’t turned into a pushover just because that had been the most thrilling sexual escapade of her life. But shutting him out had taken all her willpower, and she didn’t like the knowing look he’d given her when she’d said she was sleeping alone.

They left the house for a midmorning coffee run and photo op. She decided the best way to restore a sense of normalcy was to pick a fight. “Stop humming.” She scowled at him across the passenger seat. “You only think you can carry a tune.”

“What’s eating you? Not me, unfortunately.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Hey, what happened to your famous sense of humor?”

“You.”

“I guess that’d do it.” He started humming a few bars of “It’s the Hard-knock Life” just to provoke her. “You were a lot friendlier yesterday afternoon. A lot.”

“That was lust, pal. I was using you.”

“And doing a damn fine job of it.”

She didn’t like the way he refused to join her in the fight she needed to have with him. “You shouldn’t have said you remembered what happened that night in Vegas when you really didn’t.”

“Process of elimination. I guarantee that one of us passed out before the deed was done, because if we’d finished up, I’d have remembered.”

For once, she was inclined to believe him.

The paps surrounded them when they emerged from The Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf. Georgie thought about the zillions of photos she’d seen of celebs carrying either coffee cups or water bottles. Since when had dehydration become an occupational hazard of fame?

“Right here! Look here!”

“Any plans for the weekend?”

“Are you guys still solid?”

“Like a rock.” Bram tightened his arm around her waist and whispered, “If you were really as tough as you pretend to be, you wouldn’t have run off to your nice safe bed last night.”

She beamed up at him. “I told you. I got my period.”

He beamed down at her. “And I told you I didn’t give a damn.”

Lance had given a damn. He’d been nice about it, but sex with a menstruating woman wasn’t his thing. Not that she’d really gotten her period.

“Obviously I haven’t made myself clear,” she whispered, playing the role of the female sexual predator as shutters clicked around them. “You passed your audition yesterday at Provocative. From now on, your only function is to service me. When and where I want it. And I don’t want it right now.”

Liar. She wanted it all right, and she wanted it with him. Yesterday’s experience had been so incredible specifically because she’d been with gorgeous, useless, depraved Bram Shepard. Sex didn’t mean anything more to him than a handshake, and knowing that gave her an exciting new freedom. Her fake-and possibly alcoholic-husband could never have the hold over her Lance had possessed. With Bram, she wouldn’t stew over whether a negligee was alluring enough to attract him or feel as if she needed to read the latest sex manual to keep him interested. Who cared? She might not even shave her legs.

He kissed the top of her ear. “Just so we’re straight, Scoot. You didn’t get your period. You chickened out because you’re afraid you can’t handle me.”

“Not true.”

He gave a final wave to the photographers and began steering her toward the street, still speaking so only she could hear. “The thing about these restrictions you keep trying to set up…” He brushed his knuckles down her spine. “I’m not going to pay attention to any of them.”

Bram loved messing with Georgie-mentally and physically. She’d shocked the hell out of him yesterday. In his mind, Georgie and Scooter had always been pretty much the same person, but no way in hell would Scooter have put on a show like that. What had happened at Provocative proved the Loser hadn’t managed to whip all the self-confidence out of her, something that had become increasingly evident in the past few weeks. The fact that Lance had traded Georgie in for a cold fish like Jade gave Bram a lot more pleasure than it should.

As they returned from their coffee run, he toyed with the idea of getting her naked right away-it wouldn’t take much effort-but Aaron ruined his plans by meeting them at the door.

“Rory Keene’s secretary called. You’re invited to her house for a glass of wine at five.”

Bram did a mental high jump. He’d been hoping Rory’s affection for Georgie would translate into an opportunity for a face-to-face meeting so he could state his case personally, instead of through her people. He grinned and jiggled his car keys. “Call her back and tell her we’ll be there.”

Aaron pushed his glasses higher on his nose. “She didn’t mention anything about you, Bram. Just Georgie.”

Bram tightened his hand around his keys. “She meant both of us.”

“I don’t think so. She said to tell Georgie not to get dressed up because it would be just the two of them.” Aaron beat a hasty retreat.

Bram let loose with a string of obscenities. Rory was still stone-walling him. She loved the Tree House script, but according to her V.P. in development, she wouldn’t consider backing the film unless he stepped aside as producer and lead actor, which would defeat the goal of restarting his career. Sometimes he thought he should buy an ad in Variety and announce to the world that he wasn’t the same feral kid who didn’t have enough character to survive his success. Or maybe a simpler message…How about a fucking second chance?

If only Rory would meet with him personally, but the closest he’d been able to get was during the nighttime incident in her backyard. He’d even slipped through the rear gate with a bottle of Cristal a few days later as an apology for having woken her up, but one of her lackeys had taken the champagne from him and shut the door.