Finding Stefanie Read Free Page A

the ocean—had him cold with fear?
    “Please tell me that you’re not, uh . . . nervous about your love scene with Elise.” Dex gave him a look.
    Lincoln answered with a dry smile, but yes. His previous scripts hadn’t contained nearly as much skin as this movie—a thriller about a Miami high roller. How he longed for a good Western, where he might strap on a six-shooter, jump on a horse, and chase after the bad guys.
    Then again, maybe the people who ran his career knew he needed fast cars and lots of brawls to keep the momentum of his career at a decent clip. If someone got too close, they might actually see that really, he didn’t know a thing about acting.
    “I’ll find you, Lewis.”
    “No, c’mon, of course it’s no big deal, Dex.” Lincoln laughed and shook his head. “Kissing Elise? I think I can handle it.”
    “You know, it wouldn’t hurt your press to be seen with Elise Fontaine on your arm. She’s the next big thing, and I’m fairly sure she has a thing for you.”
    Maybe, but lately Lincoln had a hard time stomaching the life he’d found so enticing at nineteen. Ten years did that, he supposed. “I’m sure it would.” He didn’t bother to hide his opinion in his tone. Elise and her flock of paparazzi were the last thing he needed right now.
    Dex sighed. “I was thinking that after this, maybe you should take a break. Go somewhere. Go to your new place in Montana. Have you even set foot on the property since you bought it from John?”
    Lincoln shook his head. He had met author John Kincaid last summer while taking location shots for the film based on a book Kincaid had written. Lincoln had fallen in love with the land, the smells, the wide-open spaces that allowed him to think, and when Kincaid’s ranch came up for sale, he’d bought it on a whim.
    “Then maybe it’s time.” Dex stood. “Let’s get through this scene and the final action shot, and then we’ll talk about you taking a hiatus.” He slapped Lincoln on the shoulder and opened the door. “Five minutes, pal.”
    “I’ll be right out.” Lincoln closed the door behind Dex and let out another long breath, surprised that he’d been holding it. Get ahold of yourself . He closed his eyes, tried to center on that place inside him that helped him crawl out of his skin and into the psyche of his character. Be Barklay Hamilton, multimillionaire, cigarette-boat racer, winner. Be a champion.
    Lincoln needed a drink. Opening the fridge, he took out a glass bottle of energy drink, set it on the counter, and unscrewed the top. His hand had stopped shaking. But he never knew for how long.
    “Lewis—”
    No. He shrugged the voice away, refusing to listen.
    He wasn’t Lewis, hadn’t been for a decade—more, even. He wasLincoln Cash—superstar, Oscar nominee, winner of the Golden Globe. He was a winner. A man the people respected. A hero.
    He reached up and, with a flick of his fingers, opened the button. See, that wasn’t so hard. Dex was probably right—he was just tired and needed a vacation.
    Lincoln opened the door and stepped out into the sunshine of the lot. The sun baked the pavement, heat radiating into his dress shoes. Cables snaked along the parking lot leading toward the hotel they’d rented for this scene. How he’d rather be on a soundstage, but no, Dex loved to shoot on location. And this location had to be Miami in March. Thousands of spring breakers lined the set, hoping to ogle him. He waved to his fans as he took a swig of his drink.
    The dizziness hit like a bullet. One second he stood vertical, a picture of health. The next he was sprawled on the pavement, the bottle shattered, his body twitching in an all-out seizure.
    And he couldn’t even scream.

    Gideon North begged fate to be gentle with him, to forgive and, just this once, give him a break. Not that he deserved it, but if fate operated on an as-needed basis, he should be at the top of the list.
    Especially driving on fumes, an ugly sky in his