“She’s on board with all of this?” The king of the rag magazines had quoted Tucker questioning her ability to play a character with any depth. It wasn’t true—they’d twisted Tucker’s words like they all did so well. But he hadn’t corrected them, hadn’t issued a statement that they’d messed up.
Because it was best if Kenzie just believed he was an asshole. It made keeping his distance a lot easier.
Still, the whole thing didn’t sit well with him. It also didn’t matter; an actress with the filmography of Mackenzie Bennett didn’t care what he thought.
“Her camp already got her approval.” He’d known when he started working with Jessica she was the best in the business.
“She knows you’re officially retired,” Jessica continued. “That you were on your way out. That her—what happened—put a serious wrench in your plans. And that now you need to fix it, as a team.”
A light knock sounded from the conference room door.
The door slid open and Jessica’s administrative assistant poked her head in. “Ms. Bennett and her manager are here.”
“Hold up.” Tucker held up a finger. “She’s here?”
His skin started to flush in a way that was not okay. He was a lot of things—a musician who couldn’t make music, a ranch owner who was never there, a cowboy playing the role of a rock star. He refused to be a star-crossed lover who started to sweat whenever a particular actress showed up.
“We’re ready.” Jessica pulled a chair out for Tucker. He crossed his arms. He’d stand. Thank you.
Jessica scowled in his direction.
And there she was. Kenzie. On the screen, she was larger than life. She took on whatever role she was playing so thoroughly, for years audiences had tripped over their feet to pay the box office fee. In person, she sucked all the air from the room—no need to announce her presence.
Or maybe that was just the reaction Tucker had to her.
“Tucker.” She nodded to him, her usually kind-to-everyone eyes holding a frosty edge. Like one of those strawberry milkshakes from The Drive-In back home. Cold, smooth, and—sweet fuck, what the hell was he thinking?
“Mac”—he cleared whatever the hell had gotten stuck in his throat—“kenzie.”
She slid onto one of the conference room chairs and flicked a glance to the Christmas tree in the corner. The frost melted, just a little.
Jessica’s staff had gone all out with the tree. Huge-ass ornaments hung from oversized branches, theyou’re-screwedtwinkle lights still flashed, and a buttload of wrapped boxes he’d bet his guitar were empty had been piled underneath. This was Hollywood after all—if there was one thing you could count on, it was that things were fake.
“Are you okay?” He focused on Kenzie. “From the fall?”
She glanced away. Unable—or unwilling—to meet his gaze.
Kenzie’s manager shook her head and smacked a file folder on the table. “I’m Leah. Ms. Bennett is fine. We’re not discussing the event at the nightclub.”
“Of course. Everything is prepared. We’re excited you’ve agreed to work with us.” Jessica slid the contract toward Leah.
Standard confidentiality and all the other legal bullshit a pretend Hollywood relationship entailed.
“Perfect. We’ll take a look and get it signed.” Leah tucked the contract into the file folder.
“So...” Jessica went to sit, apparently changing her mind when Tucker didn’t follow. At the moment, only Kenzie sat.
Fuck it.
He pulled out a chair, flipped it around and straddled it. “I’ve got a question.”
Jessica glared a don’t-mess-this-up stare in his direction.
“We all know what’s in this deal for me. What’s in it for you?”
2
Chapter Two
