Public Secrets

sixties. She smiled at the fans—a friendly gesture, but more aloof than a wave. After a huddle with her director and her co-star, they were set for the first run-through.

It was simple enough. Jane and Brian were walking down the dingy street, arms tight around each other’s waist. There was a sense of romance as well as intimacy. As the morning wore on, they repeated that stroll for different camera angles, for close-ups when Jane’s face was tipped adoringly toward her lover’s.
It wasn’t until the lunch break that Michael noticed Angie staring at him. Abrupdy his collar seemed too tight and his brow, under the shade of his cap, pearled with sweat.
He watched her murmur something to one of the assistants that hovered, then stroll off on the arm of her director.
They ran the dialogue later in the day. The same walk, the same movements. For the life of him Michael couldn’t remember what was being said. Something about undying love, promises of devotion, plans for the future. He only knew that between every take, Angie sent him one long, level look. Each time she did, his stomach muscles jolted.
She was coming on to him, Michael thought with a dull, throbbing excitement that bordered on raw fear. And she wasn’t being subtle about it. Despite his fascination with her, he hadn’t missed the envious glances and rude remarks of the other officers on security duty.
Still, it was a shock when the scene was wrapped and she signaled him by crooking one long finger. “My trailer’s over there.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“My trailer?” She smiled, the slow, seductive smile he’d seen a half-dozen times on the screen. Her mouth was painted a bright pink for the scene. Watching him, she flicked out her tongue and ran it over her top lip. “I have to change and get out of makeup. You can wait outside.”
“But—”
“You’re taking me home,” she said and began to walk.
“Miss Parks. I’m, ah, on duty.”
“Yes. You’re assigned to me now.” She smiled again, enjoying that particular phrase. “I’ve been getting some threatening letters —about this role. I feel so much safer having a strong man around.” She paused, flashing that smile as she signed a few autographs. “The producers arranged it with your superiors this afternoon.” She slanted a look at him under her lashes, then strolled off to her trailer where she was immediately surrounded by a bevy of assistants.

Michael stood where he was.
“Kesselring.”
Michael blinked, then focused on the wide, red face of Sergeant Cohen. “Sergeant?”
“You’re to escort Miss Parks home. Until your orders change, you’re to pick her up every morning, drive her to the studio, then accompany her back to her residence.” Cohen didn’t like the arrangement. It was obvious from the way he bit off the words. Michael thought if the man hadn’t been in uniform, he would have spat on the street.
“Yes, sir.”
“I expect you to conduct yourself in an appropriate manner.”
“Yes, sir.” Michael was careful to keep the grin off his face until Cohen turned away.
She came out of the trailer thirty minutes later wearing a loose red jumpsuit cinched at the waist with a studded leather belt. Her scent flowed with her—a hot, heady fragrance designed to make a man’s mouth water. Her hair was attractively tousled, her eyes hidden behind oversized sunglasses. She tipped them down to take another long look at Michael, then waited beside the patrol car until he opened the door for her.
She gave him the address, then closed her eyes and remained chillingly silent along the drive. Long before they had reached the gates to her estate, Michael had decided he’d mistaken her intentions. He felt both relieved and foolish. Hadn’t he heard that she was having a screaming affair with her co-star? Of course, a lot of that gossip was just speculation and publicity, but it certainly made more sense for her to be attracted to an up-and-comer like Matt Holden than a lowly uniformed cop.
She signaled the guard at the gate so that the ornately worked wrought-iron swung majestically open. Michael remembered driving to the house before, Emma beside him in the old Chevelle, their surfboards strapped to the roof. It made him smile a little. And regret. She wasn’t going to be a part of his life except in his own fantasies.
Conscious of his duty, he got out, rounded the hood, and opened the passenger door.
“Come in, Officer.”
“Ma’am, I—”
“Come in,” she