Paul Manning, the studio executive who'd green-lit her last three projects, appeared at her elbow with a glass of champagne. "We need to talk about your next screenplay project. I have three different studios in a bidding war, and they're all throwing around numbers that would make your accountant very happy."
As she made her way through the room, she continually glanced over to see that Casper didn’t stay in one place. He moved around the room, but it was strange how inconspicuous he was. He quietly greeted anyone who stopped him. When he was near, he didn't hover beside her like a typical bodyguard, but instead moved naturally while his intelligent eyes continuously swept the room and regularly found her face.
She treasured those moments when their gazes met across the room. It was as though everyone else faded into soft focus, leaving only the two of them connected by an invisible thread of awareness. The feeling was intoxicating and slightly dangerous, this growing attraction to a man whose job was to protect her, not romance her.
"Willow!" Doug Malone's voice cut through her reverie as he approached with Becky Smithson at his side. Both of her former costars’ appearances had matured with age.As have I, she thought with a chuckle. She tried to see them when she was in town, but it had been two years since the three of them had been together.
Doug embraced her in a hug that lasted perhaps a beat longer than necessary. He'd filled out since their teenage years, no longer the gangly kid who'd played her geeky younger brother, but his smile was exactly as warm, slightly mischievous, and genuine as always.
"Look at you." He held her at arm's length. "Nebraska's been good to you. You look amazing."
"You're not so bad yourself," she replied with sisterly affection. "I heard you're doing work in special effects now."
"Living the dream," he said with a grin, though there was a flash of something moving through his eyes that didn’t seem to match the smile. "Though I have to admit, I miss the old days sometimes.” He shrugged. “Parts dry up quick in this town.”
Becky rolled her eyes with fond exasperation. "Everyone wants the newest shiniest object." She hugged Willow tightly. "I hear you have a new screenplay creating a buzz. That Oscar win for you was long overdue."
"Thank you. And you finished directing school? That's incredible."
"I’m assistant directing, but working my way up. It's a different kind of challenge, but I love being behind the camera for a change."
As they caught up on careers and personal lives, Willow noticed Casper positioned near the bar, engaged in what appeared to be a pleasant conversation with Nathan. His presence felt reassuring rather than intrusive, and she stole glances in his direction more frequently than was probably appropriate.
"So"—Doug followed her gaze with a knowing smile—"that's your security specialist? He doesn't look like any bodyguard I've ever seen."
"Casper's very good at his job," she said, hoping her voice sounded more casual than she felt.
"I'm sure he is," Becky said with a meaningful look. "The question is whether his job description includes making you blush like a teenager."
Before Willow could formulate a denial, Carol's voice rose above the general party chatter.
"Has anyone else been following that blogger's obsession with your old show?" Carol said to a small group near thewindows. "James Kellerman, I think his name is? He's been writing increasingly personal posts about the cast, especially about Willow."
Doug's expression grew more serious. "I've seen some of his stuff. It started as harmless nostalgia, but lately, it's gotten weirdly specific. Like he knows details about your current life that he shouldn't have access to."
She glanced toward Casper, noting his gaze was now pinned on her. "What kind of details?" Willow asked, her stomach tightening with familiar anxiety.
"Your move to Nebraska. He’s saying it’s because you had a mental breakdown. Or that you consider yourself an industry has-been. There’s even speculation about your upcoming projects," Becky said with concern. "It's like he's doing active research rather than just reminiscing about the show."
Willow felt Casper's presence before she saw him, his hand briefly touching her lower back as he joined their conversation with the fluid movement of someone who'd been monitoring from across the room.
"This blogger," he said without preamble, "does he live locally?"
"Kansas, I think," Doug replied. "He's a high school media teacher who runs this entertainment blog as a side project. Probably makes decent money from the advertising and affiliate links."
"Riverside Highhas found a whole new audience through streaming," Willow said, trying to rationalize the situation. "There are fans who weren't even born when we were filming. I'm sure James just capitalizes on the renewed interest."
But even as she spoke the words, she could see the concern in Casper's eyes and feel her own unease growing. Another person with detailed knowledge of her life, another potential threat to catalog and investigate.
The party continued around them, but the carefree mood had shifted subtly. As the evening wound down and the final round of hugs and air kisses was exchanged, Willow was eager to return to the privacy of their hotel suite.
In the back of the SUV, she kicked off her heels with a grateful sigh, wiggling her toes in relief. Without a word, Casper reached over and lifted her feet onto his lap, his strong hands beginning to massage away the ache from hours of standing in uncomfortable shoes.
The gesture was intimate and unexpected, sending warmth shooting up her legs and settling somewhere deep in her chest. She closed her eyes and let herself enjoy the simple pleasure of his touch, the care implicit in the action, and the growing certainty that whatever was developing between them had nothing to do with professional obligations and everything to do with genuine attraction.
"Thank you," she murmured, meaning far more than just the foot massage.
"You handled tonight beautifully," he said softly. "Your friends obviously care about you a great deal."
