Redemption of a Hollywood Starlet

No. Folly is perfect. It’s a gift, so don’t screw it up. And, since Finn was running this project, she’d have to swallow her anger and pride and act like a professional.

Caitlyn forced herself to smile. “However, I appreciate your concern and will keep your warnings in mind for the future.”

There. That was the proper thing to say to set the right tone for their future working relationship. She was pleased she’d made the effort. The look on Finn’s face was just a bonus.

She thought he might be about to say something more, but Finn just shrugged, a signature movement showing that this was no longer worth his time. “So, who was that guy, anyway?”

She looked around. While more people had drifted onto the terrace, no one seemed to be paying them undue attention. She had to quit worrying so much about that. There was nothing attention-worthy about her and Finn speaking together. They had to: they were coworkers, colleagues working on Folly. There was nothing remotely scandalous about the two of them talking.

At a respectable distance from each other, of course.

“I don’t know his name. All I really know is that he’s a fan of the whole Reese clan and that he works for someone in Congress.” The eyebrow that went up told her that Finn would be able to provide a name shortly, and she almost felt a touch of sympathy for the young man. “We spoke briefly inside. Obviously that wasn’t enough for him.”

“Obviously.”

“I think he’s had a couple of drinks, and we all do stupid things after we’ve had a couple of drinks, you know.” Finn seemed to agree to that with a minuscule tilt of his head, and she blew out her breath in a long sigh.

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine, Finn, really. It was a surprise, but that’s all. I appreciate your rescue, but I doubt he would have pressed it much further. I probably just overreacted. Either way, I think I managed to convince him that I’m serious.”

Finn chuckled and the sound rolled over her like a remembered caress. “If not, he’s amazingly dense. Nice moves, by the way.”

“Thanks. After that thing with Mom’s stalker two years ago, she and Dad made me take some self-defense classes and work with a trainer. It’s the first time I’ve ever had to put it to the test, though. Things were different in London. Fewer people knew who I was, so the weirdo potential was way down. It was a wake-up call I probably needed.”

“Hell of a way to be welcomed home.”

She swallowed as Finn came to sit next to her. There was still a respectable distance separating them, but that didn’t stop her heart-rate from jumping up a notch. Speaking of being welcomed home … She’d thought about this moment a thousand times, planned a million witty and clever things to say that would put their past behind them, show she’d moved on and had her career firmly back on track. All those clever words eluded her now, damn it. But she had to say something or else look like an idiot.

She looked around, appreciating the dim quiet of the terrace and the view of D.C. beyond. A full moon topped the Washington Monument like a candle flame. “Beautiful view.” Well, that wasn’t exactly inspired.

Based on the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, Finn agreed with that assessment. “Indeed.”

“This is my first time in D.C., believe it or not. I’m hoping to have some time to do a little sightseeing.”

“If you want tours of the Capitol or the White House let Liz know. She can call my father’s office and get it arranged for you.”

She swallowed her shock. Finn rarely acknowledged his paternity, so the casual mention of Senator Marshall came straight from left field. Or maybe Finn and his father were on better terms now. Things could have changed. “I appreciate that.”

This all seemed so normal. Two people sitting on a terrace, chatting. But it wasn’t normal. This was Finn, and the proverbial gorilla sat between them, so the situation made her jumpy instead. Finn, though, seemed to be willing to ignore the past—or at least pretend that they were friendly strangers—so she was enough of an adult to do the same. If he wasn’t going to bring it up, she should just thank her lucky stars and do the same.

“I didn’t expect you to be here tonight.” That was only partly true. She’d known there was a chance he’d be here; Dolfinn Pictures supported the summer camp program, after all. Because of that, the cast of Folly had come in an attempt to bring more attention to the fundraiser. But Finn normally avoided D.C. like the plague, and he’d been in Monaco for the last three weeks. Donor or not, the chances of him showing up had been slim. This kind of event wasn’t Finn’s idea of a good time. His scene was still more club than cocktail.

“Well, I have to put in an occasional appearance at things to keep the Grands happy.”

Finn’s grandmother sat on the board, and both she and her husband, the legendary Senator Marshall, were here tonight. Porter Marshall had held the office for decades before retiring and handing it over to his son, Finn’s father.

The former senator was far more personable than Caitlyn had expected, and when she’d learned this evening that The Folly of the Fury was his favorite book, they’d had a lovely conversation about the importance of the book and character of Rebecca. Mrs. Marshall, though … That had been a slightly uncomfortable moment: although they’d never met at the time, Regina Marshall obviously recognized Caitlyn’s name from before. While she hadn’t been anything other than polite, Caitlyn had the sneaking feeling she was on probation with the regal matriarch of this powerful family.

Which was fine, because Caitlyn had no intention of screwing this up.

She had way too much on the line.

CHAPTER TWO

CAIT was acting strangely, which didn’t make sense—or bode well for future work on Folly.

He’d sought her out tonight intentionally, wanting to get a clear-eyed assessment of who she was these days and whether or not she was going to make filming a personal hell for him. Dolby was the one who’d pointed him toward the terrace. The scene he’d walked in on, though …

He’d recognized the situation immediately for what it was, but hadn’t known it was Cait until she’d had the man on his knees crying for mercy. He’d recognized her voice before the man even said her name—he’d had that irritated, clipped tone directed at him too many times to forget it. Then the details had hit him all at once: that coppery-blond hair that had kept hairdressers in business recreating the color on an entire generation of women, those long legs showcased by her signature stilettos, even the newly acquired curve of her hips that showed she wasn’t starving herself anymore to fit the starlet mold.

The shock of seeing her had delayed his reaction time, and it had been over before he’d recovered. That was bad enough, but his physical reaction at seeing Cait again didn’t sit well on top of everything else, and he’d let his anger loose on her. It was only his pride that had had him pulling it together to carry on a normal conversation.

Because he was not going to let Cait wreak her special blend of havoc on his life again. He’d learned his lesson there. He would keep this casual and professional if it killed him. He could be the bigger person.

“Are you ready to go back in?”

Cait seemed to be thinking very hard about a seemingly simple question. Finally, she shook her head. “Not just yet. I think I need another minute to cool down some and get myself together.”

“It might have been fun to watch you break his fingers, though.”

She seemed to consider that. “No. There are too many witnesses in there, too many cameras.” She shrugged casually, but there was a wry smile of resignation on her face. “I don’t need that kind of publicity this soon. Plus, it’s tacky to start a fistfight at a cocktail party. Believe it or not, I was raised better than that.”

At least her humor seemed to be returning. It was a longstanding joke between them: was the child of Hollywood royalty expected to behave better or worse than a child from political royalty? Using only the tabloids as their judge and jury, they’d never been able to come to a definitive answer as to how high or low the expectations really were.

And they’d certainly tested those expectations. Repeatedly.

He couldn’t help but smile at the memory. “I could hit him for you.”

She wrinkled her nose. “That’s kind of you—and tempting—but I’m going to think positive thoughts that he’s learned his lesson. The funny thing is that I think that might have been more about my folks than me. He seemed pretty interested in their political leanings and pet causes.”

He understood now. Cait’s connections—and all that Hollywood money—could be very valuable to an aspiring politician, and that guy had “congressional wannabe” written all over him. “Welcome back to the business.”

She shot him a pissy look. “I never totally left, you know. Just because I haven’t been working in Hollywood, it doesn’t mean I haven’t been working.”

“On the stage. It’s hardly the same thing.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t start. I’m not going to get into that argument with you.” She seemed to catch herself and her face cleared, and a wickedly innocent smile took the place of irritation. “But I’m rather flattered to hear that you’ve been keeping up with my career. That’s rather sweet. I had no idea you cared.”

Her tone rankled. There was no way he was going to let her go there. “Just because I wasn’t consulted before you were brought on board, don’t think for a second that I haven’t verified you can actually pull this off. This film is my responsibility, and Rebecca falls outside your known range.”

Cait’s jaw tightened. Oh, he’d hit a nerve with that one.

She recovered quickly, though. She always did. She stood and stepped away from the bench before turning on him. “You know, if you spent more time actually working, and less time playing beach blanket bingo in Europe, you might not have to find out what’s happening with your own projects after the fact.”

The disdain in her voice chased off any desire he’d had to play nice. Where did Cait get off acting all high and mighty? “So you’ve been keeping up with my love life? That’s kind of … sad, actually.”

“Oh, please. Would you get over yourself? The last thing I care about is who you’re sleeping with now. I’m here for one reason and one reason only. I want my career back.”

He started to answer, but stopped short as a thought crystallized. Cait had been out of the spotlight for years; she wasn’t exactly a hot commodity at the moment—famous parents or not. Folly was a great place to prove her skills, but it wouldn’t do much to restore her to the fame and glory she’d once called her “birthright.” Hadn’t he and Dolby just discussed the headline possibilities today? A bad feeling crept over him. Maybe that was part of her plan. What better way to make the cover of every magazine and have her name on everyone’s lips than to work that very Finn-and-Caitlyn angle he’d just laid plans to avoid.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. It seems like a hell of a good way to make your comeback with a bang, doesn’t it?”

He hadn’t thought it would be possible for Cait to get any stiffer, but she did. With her arms crossed over her chest, she lifted her chin again until she was practically looking down her nose at him—something she could only do while he was seated.

“What exactly do you mean by that?”

“Being within fifty feet of me assures you every headline you want, doesn’t it?” With a casualness he didn’t really feel, but would grate on Cait’s nerves regardless, he leaned back against the railing and stacked his hands behind his head. “Once upon a time, you claimed I was good for your Q Score. Looking for a second bite of the apple, Caity?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Your ego is simply unbelievable, Finn. Believe it or not, this is not about you. In fact, the very last thing I need—or want—is the kind of headlines you bring. I’ve grown up, worked damn hard to improve my craft and cleaned up my image. I take my job seriously.” She eyed him with something he could only call distaste. “Since you can’t say the same, why don’t you just go back to Monaco until this is in the can? That would be very helpful for my comeback.”

Oh, he’d definitely hit a nerve. Anger flushed her cheeks, and she gripped her tiny purse until her knuckles turned white.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an early call in the morning and should probably get some sleep.” With that, she stalked away, head held high, and wrenched open the door to the ballroom to disappear inside.

Cait still liked to get the last word. Blaming him and storming off in a huff was her usual M.O., so that much hadn’t changed. It was practically a repeat of that last night at his place. Everything had been his fault. Never hers.

He, however, had to think about bigger issues than Cait’s temper. Too many people were involved in Folly. Money and reputations were at stake. And he would not let Granddad’s glee at having Folly made be dampened by Cait and her possible dramatics. He would keep this project in line even if he had to kill people to get it done.

Finn gave himself a hard mental shake. He had to be rational about this. In the long run, Cait might prove to be a good choice for Folly. If she could pull off Rebecca, her name and potential star power could boost Folly’s box office revenues and award chances.

That didn’t mean it was going to be less of a hellish mess in the meantime, though.

Caitlyn closed her door against the heat and spread her arms to embrace the icy chill of the air-conditioned trailer. Yesterday she’d neglected to crank the thermostat down before she left and had come back to a trailer almost as hot as the outdoors. But today … Bliss, cool bliss.

Her sweaty skin felt better almost immediately, and she peeled off the dress sticking to her back and hung it in the closet. Another thing she loved about this role: the fashions of the Forties were flattering and feminine and made it easy to really embrace Rebecca’s character. In this heat, she was very glad Folly wasn’t set in an era where she’d have to wear corsets and mountainous dresses. If so, she’d be battling heatstroke about now.

In just her underwear, she went to the fridge for a bottle of water. She left the door open while she took a drink, letting the cool air from inside wash over her.

She’d been in London too long, gotten used to what they amusingly called “summer” and forgotten how stinking hot and humid summer could really be in some parts of the country.

Walter Farrell had been an assistant director under her father for many years, and had learned his philosophy about authenticity from the master. Like her father, Walter felt being in a similar setting—like this insufferable heat and humidity—would help the actors really connect with the characters, but Cait was rapidly developing sympathy for all the actors who’d worked with her father. Especially on that one film set in the jungle …

But, honestly, she didn’t care how much she sweated for this part. Caitlyn lay back on her small couch and fanned her face with her script. It wasn’t false pride or inflated ego to say that this was possibly the best performance of her life. She was working with a stellar cast, Hollywood’s best director—or at least second-best, she amended out of filial loyalty—and a crew that blew her away.

This was the life and the career she was supposed to have. It had just taken her a while to find the right path. She’d been given her second chance, and the only thing that really mattered was where she went from here.

She’d risk that heatstroke happily.

The only fly in her happy ointment was Finn. The rational pep talks she’d given herself about being an adult and leaving things in the past had turned to gibberish within just a few minutes of actually seeing him. It hadn’t been her finest moment, that was for sure, but what had she really expected? The last time she’d seen him, she’d been hurt and angry, hurling ridiculous accusations at him because she hadn’t been able to analyze, much less articulate, what she was really feeling.

She yawned and closed her eyes. Makeup had had a hard time covering the bags under her eyes this morning. She’d intended to call her mom today, but a nap seemed a more prudent use of her time since she still had several hours of filming to do tonight.

A 5:00 a.m. alarm was never fun, but she’d spent a good portion of the night staring at the ceiling as she tried to sort through the morass of conflicting emotions caused by seeing Finn. Of course the few hours she’d managed to finally sleep had been haunted by dreams that left her restless. Dreams of Finn.

Damn him for being so tactless. Why couldn’t he be like normal people and politely ignore topics best left to die? Oh, no … He had to bring up personal junk in a professional situation.

And that was what she wanted to avoid at all costs. If she could, she’d give the entire planet amnesia so everyone would completely forget what had happened three years ago.

Too bad she couldn’t give herself amnesia as well.

Good times, bad times … They weren’t really classifiable as either. They were just “Finn Times”—fun and exciting at the time, but in retrospect not the wisest of choices and not an experience she’d like to repeat.

The residual tingle from last night’s dreams rather belied those thoughts, but Caitlyn purposefully pushed those aside. Finn was tempting—very tempting—but she couldn’t risk everything she’d worked for. Eyes on the prize.

But she would have to come to some kind of understanding with Finn. She’d accept her fair share of the blame, but that didn’t mean she could just forgive and forget. Until last night she’d thought she was over it, but it hadn’t taken long for all the old hurt to come rushing back.

Damn him.

She’d had more than her fair share of failed relationships—both before and after Finn—so why did Finn alone have the power to make her hurt?

Wallowing in the past would get her nowhere. She had to concentrate on now. Ignoring each other or acting hostile would be just as likely to attract attention and gossip. She could get through this …

A knock interrupted her drowsy thoughts. So much for that nap. She called, “Come in!” and reached for her water bottle.

“Stunning outfit, Cait.”

Her eyes flew open in surprise, confirming that Finn was, indeed, in her trailer, and it took a second for the meaning of his words to actually register. Once they did … Damn it. Face hot, Caitlyn jumped up from the couch and grabbed the robe hanging on the bathroom door. Keeping her back to him, she shoved her arms through the sleeves. Granted, the old-fashioned underwear covered more than her bathing suit normally did, but that didn’t change the fact she was wearing nothing but underwear and Finn was in her trailer. Kill me now.

She took extra time tying the belt to give herself a chance to regain her composure, but the chuckle coming from behind her didn’t help. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I’m afraid to ask who you were expecting, then.”

She refused to dignify that with a response. “Can I help you with something, Finn?”

“I thought we should talk.” Finn dropped a stack of papers on the table before crossing to the fridge and looking inside. Her hackles went up at his nonchalant attitude.

“Fine. If you’ll just wait outside, I’ll get some clothes on—”

An eyebrow went up. “No need to be so modest, you know.” It’s nothing I haven’t seen before hung in the air. That knowledge didn’t help her much at all. But then, Finn had probably seen so many women naked in his life maybe he’d have difficulty remembering exactly which bits were hers.

Not that she was having any trouble remembering his. Her skin heated. Oh, he was decently enough dressed today, in jeans and a simple black tee that fit snugly against his body, but memories of what lay under those clothes …

“Regardless, I’d rather you wait outside and we go somewhere to talk.”

Finn pulled a bottle out and offered it to her. When she shook her head, he unscrewed the cap and took a long drink. Then he sat instead of leaving. She had to wonder if he was being difficult intentionally.

“Why can’t we talk here? It’s hot out there.”

She pulled the robe tighter across her chest and wished it covered a bit more thigh. “I’d rather not.”

Finn’s exasperated look was almost funny. “What is with you, Caity?”

“Nothing. I just don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be seen meeting privately in my trailer. It’s … inappropriate and might be misconstrued.” Ugh, she sounded like a virgin schoolteacher.

Finn’s look said the same thing. “You’re not serious?”

“As you helpfully noted last night, my being within fifty feet of you will be enough to send the paparazzi into a frenzy. I’d rather not give them more to feed on.” She went to the closet and grabbed jeans and tee shirt and waited for him to leave.

Finn ignored the hint, so she frowned at him to make her point. He gave her a look that questioned her mental stability instead, so she took her clothes to the bathroom and closed the door to get dressed.

“I’m afraid it won’t take even that much,” he called through the door.

“Exactly,” she shouted back. “As soon as we’re seen together—however innocent it may be—all those old, embarrassing pictures of us are going to resurface. I can’t live all that down as old news if there’s speculation there’s new news.”

Now decent, she came out and opened the shades on every window, giving anyone who walked by a clear view of what was going on inside. She’d have opened the door, but that would have just let the heat in. She wasn’t willing to go that far. Propriety would just have to be served by open shades.

As she took her seat on the far side of the table, Finn snorted. “You’re taking this a little far, don’t you think?”

“I’m just cautious. You may not give a damn about appearances, but I do.”

“How kind of you to worry about me.” The smirk told her he was deliberately misinterpreting her words.

“Only to the extent that your reputation will impugn mine. I think we’ve proved that you can raise hell and people will still respect you, but I can’t. It’s a horrible double standard, so I’ve worked very, very hard to clean up my act.” She picked up her water and drank deeply. After two disastrous starts, she really needed to bring her interactions with Finn back to the business they had in common. And only that. “So, what brings you by, Finn?”

He chuckled, and it put her on guard. “That very topic, actually.”

“Your reputation?”

“Paparazzi, speculation, new news …”

That was odd. Those were the top three things Finn normally didn’t even deign to give five minutes of his time to. He really didn’t care about tabloid gossip.

A warning tingled up her spine, but she forced her face to remain merely curious and clasped her hands together to keep them still. “Okay.”

“After meeting with Dolby and Farrell this morning, we’ve decided to close the set for the rest of filming. Considering our past, they agreed it might be disruptive or distracting to have to worry about uncontrolled press for the next five weeks.”

She held up a hand. “Wait.” Barring any disasters, they’d be finished filming here by then. They shouldn’t have to close the set permanently unless … Damn. She tried to keep her voice just this side of mildly curious. “You’re not going back to L.A.?”

“No. Dolby will head back with the second unit tomorrow.”

A headache began to form behind her right eye. “But why?”

“Because.”