Hollywood Baby Affair. Anna DePalo

frayed her nerves.

      Still, even though it was a beautiful and sunny Saturday afternoon, and she should have been in a great mood, she...wasn’t. She was irritable and restless and anxious. She’d been having trouble memorizing her lines ever since the attempted break-in at her trailer. Pegasus Pride was an action flick, so the script wasn’t heavy, but there was still dialogue that she had to be able to say without prompting.

      Frustrated, she’d finally resorted to using Ruby to help her relax. She hadn’t taken the dummy out in months, but ventriloquism kept her in touch with her former life—and at moments like these, let her deal with her present concerns.

      Chiara searched the dummy’s face. “What am I going to do?”

      Ruby tilted her head.

      “I must be out of my mind to be talking to a dummy by myself.”

      “You’re not alone if you’re having a chat with someone,” Ruby responded in her singsong voice. “I just help you figure things out, sugar.”

      “I thought that’s what Odele is for.”

      Ruby waved her hand. “You already know where Odele stands. She’s on the hunk’s side, and frankly, I don’t know why you aren’t, too.” Ruby tossed her hair—because rolling her eyes was out of the question. “He’s delicious.”

      “Annoying. You’re reading too much gossip.”

      “I have to, it’s about you,” the dummy chirped. “Anyway, it’s time you let someone under your skin, and back into your bed. And Rick...that body, that face, that kiss. Need I say more?”

      “You are saucy and naughty, Ruby.”

      “And you wish you could be. Let your hair down, sugar.”

      Chiara’s gaze fell to the laptop at her elbow. “I have too many responsibilities...and plenty of problems.”

      The headline on the computer screen spoke for itself: Chiara Feran’s Father Thrown Out of Casino.

      Maybe now that he couldn’t gamble because he’d been caught counting cards, Michael Feran would stay out of trouble. But Chiara knew that was wishful thinking.

      The public thought she had an enviable life—helped by Odele’s relentless image craftsmanship. But the truth...

      She’d never thought of herself as a beauty queen, for one. Oh, sure, she’d been blessed with good genes—a nice face and a fast metabolism that meant it wasn’t impossible to adhere to Hollywood standards of beauty. But she also considered herself an outsider. She’d been raised by an immigrant mother, grown up enduring cold New England winters and would have still been doing theater but for a quirk of fate and Odele risking taking her on as a client.

      She liked her privacy, her best friend was a smart-mouthed talent manager ripe for caricature and her sidekick was a doll made of wood. Obviously Todd Jeffers was crazier than she gave him credit for if he couldn’t pick a better-credentialed starlet to stalk. And now she had a rumored boyfriend—a muscle-bound stuntman who looked as if he could enter a triathlon.

      She’d already ignored a text from Odele about the latest headline, but Chiara knew her manager was right—they needed a distraction fast...

      Her lawyers were due in court in the coming days to get a temporary restraining order—so there’d be more unwanted press attention because of her unpleasant fan.

      Still, Rick Serenghetti? Argh.

      Her cell phone buzzed again, a telltale ringtone, and this time Chiara knew she couldn’t ignore it. With an apologetic look, she propped Ruby on a chair and took the call. “Hello, Odele.”

      “Enjoying your time off?”

      “Define enjoy. I’m memorizing my lines.” Among other things. She cast Ruby a hush-hush look.

      “Rick needs to move in if we’re going to make this fake relationship work. It’ll help believability.”

      “No.” The refusal fell from her lips without thought. Rick in her house? They’d throttle each other...if they weren’t jumping into bed. And the contradiction of trying to make a fake relationship work was apparently lost on her manager.