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escapes me.” She curled
her fingers into her palms. She wanted to tell him to forget it. Wanted to call
him a whole bunch of very uncomplimentary names and leave it at that, but the
memory of her mission gave her pause.
    “I’m intrigued. Come to my hotel tomorrow
afternoon.” He named the most exclusive hotel in London. “I’ll tell the front
desk to expect you.”
    Shall I tell him I’ll see him
tonight? She decided that conversation was better had in person. “Okay, I
look forward to it.” Before he had time to engage in any further chat, she hung
up.

Chapter
Two
     
    Max sat in the back of a black limousine cutting through the
streets to the Odeon Cinema in Leicester Square. Her royal blue dress was a
perfect fit, swathes of chiffon artfully wrapped and sewn to flatter her figure
in a classic, strapless design that dusted her ankles. It wasn’t a designer
original, the budget wouldn’t run to that, but instead a well-made copy—one she
was sure would pass muster amongst the designer dresses worn by the red carpet glitterati.
    Her fingers played with the
sapphire collet necklace her friend Kathryn Hazzard had given her for
Christmas. She’d always loved the antique Georgian necklaces with their flat,
clear gemstone ovals, and had built an enviable collection of reproduction ones.
The sapphires were paste, but they nestled around her throat looking just like
the real thing.
    Matching earrings hung from her
lobes, and she’d spent an hour at the salon, having her hair arranged in a
pretty updo.
    She looked good, and Jasper was
the perfect date. So why was her stomach in knots?
    “Wow, look at the crowd.” Jasper
leaned near, peering out the window. Crash barriers lined the red carpet
leading into the cinema behind which crowded a couple of hundred people. “Are
you ready?”
    She nodded.
    “You look fantastic.” He squeezed
her hand. “You remember the drill?”
    “Yes.” They’d talked as the limo
idled through traffic. Jasper had confided that Sholto would try and engage him
in conversation, and her task was to run interference—getting between them and
keeping the conversation light.
    “He’ll probably try to get us to
the after-party, but we’re leaving the moment the screening ends—okay?” Jasper’s
smile was nervous. For some reason, he was determined to avoid any private time
with Sholto, and tonight, he was calling the shots.
    “Absolutely. I’ll be ready to go
the moment the film is over.”
    Jasper squeezed her hand. “You’re
an angel. I hate these things.”
    “Unless it’s one of yours…”
    “Even then. I’m more a behind the
scenes type of guy. But you know that.”
    The limo slowed, joining the line
of cars depositing people onto the red carpet. Ahead, an A-list couple climbed
out of their limo and stepped onto the red carpet. The crowd went wild—the
sound of shouts and shrieks audible even in the soundproof interior.
    “Here we go.” Their car edged
forward, then stopped. An attendant reached for the handle and swung the door
open.
    The sound was deafening, and the
air shimmered with camera flashes. Max accepted the attendant’s hand and
stepped out into the melee.
    “Smile.” Jasper joined her on the
red carpet, his hand at her waist.
    She plastered on a grin, and they
set off on the long, red stripe. On both sides, actors and celebrities were
being interviewed or greeting the crowd. At the end of the carpet, at the left,
a gaggle of people clustered.
    Jasper leaned close and spoke into
her ear. “Sholto is signing autographs.”
    A man next to him looked up, saw
them and hurried down the carpet to their side.
    “Jasper? Larry Meisner, Sholto’s
agent. I’m so glad you could make it.” The stranger’s smile was warm as he
pumped Jasper’s hand. Then he turned to Max.
    “This is my date, Max.”
    Larry air-kissed her cheek. “Come
and say hello.”
    Sholto’s head was bent over a
magazine that bore his face on the cover. He scrawled his autograph, and