reality, all she could think about 48
The Price of Fame
was the way it had felt to hold Kate in her arms, to feel that power and strength. She sensed that the older woman was neither used to, nor comfortable with, anyone seeing her vulnerabilities. She wished with all her heart for Kate to trust her enough to let her in anyway.
Kate stepped out of the shower, having spent some extra minutes trying to wash away the residue of the nightmare in which she saw the little boy’s face again, his dead eyes staring upward in plea, his body crushed under a portion of the first-floor ceiling. She wondered if she would ever get past some of the horror of what she had seen in the previous twenty-four hours. But she didn’t need to burden her young companion with that.
After throwing on some worn jeans and a t-shirt, she packed a garment bag with the outfit she would wear on the networks later that morning. She exited the bedroom, feeling badly about the abrupt way she had dismissed Jay earlier. Noticing an enticing smell coming from the kitchen, she followed her nose.
When she didn’t find her companion in the kitchen, she poked her head into the library. Jay was standing in front of one of the bookshelves, looking gorgeous in an off-white Armani pantsuit; Fred was lying at her feet. Kate took a moment to admire the writer while she was unaware of the scrutiny; she seemed lost in thought and a little sad, which made Kate feel even worse about her actions.
“Hey,” she said as cheerfully as she could, “I smell something mouth-watering.”
“Yeah.” Turning, Jay smiled at her friend. “I thought you might be hungry, and I always am, so I whipped a little something up. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind? Are you kidding, I’m starving.”
Making their way into the kitchen, the two women sat at the table in companionable silence eating the meal Jay had prepared.
“Thanks for cooking. You didn’t have to do that, but it was fantastic.”
“Judging from your refrigerator, I’d say it’s safe to assume that if I didn’t do the cooking, it wasn’t going to get done.”
“Ayeah, that would be too true,” Kate said sheepishly.
At that moment, the limo pulled up outside; it was exactly 3:30 a.m.
Looking at Jay, Kate said, “Showtime, I guess.”
“You’re going on network television looking like that?”
“What, you don’t like my favorite jeans and t-shirt?”
Given permission to stare frankly, Jay was happy to oblige. The jeans hugged every contour of Kate’s shapely legs and narrow hips, and the tshirt revealed the outline of high, firm breasts, well-developed arms and 49
Lynn Ames
broad shoulders perfectly. “Oh no, they look great on you. I’m just not sure it’s the image you’re looking to project.”
“Ooh, good save, Jay, well done; you have a future in the BS business to be sure.” Her eyes twinkled; it felt good to get back on safe ground after the nightmare fiasco. “Actually, I brought my clothes with me so that I wouldn’t wrinkle them before America got to see them.”
“Oh great, so you’ll look beautiful and I’ll look like a shar-pei,” Jay complained. This she said while bending over to say goodbye to Fred, who was presently wrapped around his mother’s knees. She whispered in his ear, “I hope I get to see you again soon, buddy.”
“First of all, I think you look fabulous, and, second, the entire country is not going to be watching you. Now come on, our chariot awaits.” With a hug and kiss for Fred and a gallant bow, she followed her guest out the front door.
Making her way down the steps, Jay asked, “What happens to Fred while you’re gone?”
“Oh, you needn’t worry about the king, his minions take care of him and treat him like the royalty he believes himself to be.” At Jay’s perplexed look, Kate clarified, “The kids next door and their parents are gaga over Fred, they come in and feed him whenever I get hung up. You couldn’t see it in the
The Price of Fame
was the way it had felt to hold Kate in her arms, to feel that power and strength. She sensed that the older woman was neither used to, nor comfortable with, anyone seeing her vulnerabilities. She wished with all her heart for Kate to trust her enough to let her in anyway.
Kate stepped out of the shower, having spent some extra minutes trying to wash away the residue of the nightmare in which she saw the little boy’s face again, his dead eyes staring upward in plea, his body crushed under a portion of the first-floor ceiling. She wondered if she would ever get past some of the horror of what she had seen in the previous twenty-four hours. But she didn’t need to burden her young companion with that.
After throwing on some worn jeans and a t-shirt, she packed a garment bag with the outfit she would wear on the networks later that morning. She exited the bedroom, feeling badly about the abrupt way she had dismissed Jay earlier. Noticing an enticing smell coming from the kitchen, she followed her nose.
When she didn’t find her companion in the kitchen, she poked her head into the library. Jay was standing in front of one of the bookshelves, looking gorgeous in an off-white Armani pantsuit; Fred was lying at her feet. Kate took a moment to admire the writer while she was unaware of the scrutiny; she seemed lost in thought and a little sad, which made Kate feel even worse about her actions.
“Hey,” she said as cheerfully as she could, “I smell something mouth-watering.”
“Yeah.” Turning, Jay smiled at her friend. “I thought you might be hungry, and I always am, so I whipped a little something up. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind? Are you kidding, I’m starving.”
Making their way into the kitchen, the two women sat at the table in companionable silence eating the meal Jay had prepared.
“Thanks for cooking. You didn’t have to do that, but it was fantastic.”
“Judging from your refrigerator, I’d say it’s safe to assume that if I didn’t do the cooking, it wasn’t going to get done.”
“Ayeah, that would be too true,” Kate said sheepishly.
At that moment, the limo pulled up outside; it was exactly 3:30 a.m.
Looking at Jay, Kate said, “Showtime, I guess.”
“You’re going on network television looking like that?”
“What, you don’t like my favorite jeans and t-shirt?”
Given permission to stare frankly, Jay was happy to oblige. The jeans hugged every contour of Kate’s shapely legs and narrow hips, and the tshirt revealed the outline of high, firm breasts, well-developed arms and 49
Lynn Ames
broad shoulders perfectly. “Oh no, they look great on you. I’m just not sure it’s the image you’re looking to project.”
“Ooh, good save, Jay, well done; you have a future in the BS business to be sure.” Her eyes twinkled; it felt good to get back on safe ground after the nightmare fiasco. “Actually, I brought my clothes with me so that I wouldn’t wrinkle them before America got to see them.”
“Oh great, so you’ll look beautiful and I’ll look like a shar-pei,” Jay complained. This she said while bending over to say goodbye to Fred, who was presently wrapped around his mother’s knees. She whispered in his ear, “I hope I get to see you again soon, buddy.”
“First of all, I think you look fabulous, and, second, the entire country is not going to be watching you. Now come on, our chariot awaits.” With a hug and kiss for Fred and a gallant bow, she followed her guest out the front door.
Making her way down the steps, Jay asked, “What happens to Fred while you’re gone?”
“Oh, you needn’t worry about the king, his minions take care of him and treat him like the royalty he believes himself to be.” At Jay’s perplexed look, Kate clarified, “The kids next door and their parents are gaga over Fred, they come in and feed him whenever I get hung up. You couldn’t see it in the
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