Intimate Read Free Page B

could ask R. Jacob Lowell what he wanted.
    *   *   *
    Jake ordered a cup of black coffee and found a seat near the front window where he could watch people while he waited for Kaz. She’d called a few minutes ago and said she’d meet him here at this funky little coffee shop across from the modeling agency, but he was a few minutes early.
    He checked his phone. No more texts. That message he’d gotten earlier really bugged him. Who the hell could it have been? And why were they contacting him now? RJ had been gone for almost twenty years, though Jake was pretty certain a good scandal never died.
    He’d check into it later. The coffee shop was almost empty. A couple of women sat near the door, an older dark-haired guy had just come in, ordered, and then sat at a table across the room from Jake, staring at his iPad. Other than that, there was no one but the cute little barista manning the counter.
    No one paid any attention to Jake. He loved the anonymity of this older self, but today it felt as if the Fates had conspired to drag him back to that period when everything had gone so wrong. During the Olympics and then through the ensuing media frenzy after the wreck, the trial and sentencing, he’d been hounded by the press. As a public figure, there’d been no chance of keeping his name out of the papers. The paparazzi loved his looks, and his face had been splashed on the cover of every cheap tabloid around.
    He’d been RJ Cameron then, thanks to dear old Mom, who’d thought RJ had a better ring than Richie. Cameron was her maiden name, and while she was all about making at least one of her sons famous, she had no problem inserting a little bit more of herself into the equation. She thought the name was classy, he’d thought it was stupid, but as an adult he’d learned to appreciate the anonymity of having screwed up so badly under a fake name.
    Until today, no one had made the connection between R. Jacob Lowell and RJ Cameron.
    Who the hell sent the text? How could anyone see the man he was today and recognize the stupid kid he’d been almost twenty years ago? He might have been almost as tall as he was now, but he’d been a lot thinner, his body lean and muscular from hours of training, his hair short, spiky, and blond—bleached by both the sun and his mother in her ultimate quest to make him a star.
    She’d sold him like a damned product.
    She’d only cared that he look good. Winning was expected, but her goal was Hollywood. She figured he had a better chance getting in as a sports star—win big at the Olympics, then the studios would come calling.
    And, suck-up little jerk that he was, he’d gone along with everything she wanted, and he’d been good enough to make it work.
    Up until he blew it.
    Thank goodness his hair was naturally dark brown. Now, with it loose and curling around his face, he looked nothing like that manufactured image his mother had nurtured.
    Who had found him? Who remembered RJ? He drummed his fingers on the table, pissed off and frustrated.
    A shift in the flow of people on the sidewalk caught his eye, and Kaz was there, impossible to miss as she drew closer. He pushed the damned text message out of his mind and watched her. She was a good head taller than the pedestrians around her, and she moved with an easy stride, like a woman perfectly at ease in her own skin. He liked that, the sense of purpose as she got closer to the coffee shop.
    His heart rate picked up when she stepped through the door and headed straight to the counter. The barista, a tiny blonde, met her with a hug and proceeded to build some sort of coffee with froth and stuff all over it without Kaz even ordering.
    The two women talked nonstop, quietly enough that he couldn’t make out what was said. Still, it was fun to watch the various expressions crossing Kaz’s face. Damn, she was really something.
    Absolutely unique. He’d never