Ashley stumbled in her tall, strappy heels. “Slow down. He’s working, we can’t—”
Garrett lowered his arm to her waist, ignored her protests, and propelled her forward until she stood within a foot of Caz.
Shouts of “Caspian” came from the crowd. It was deafening, like the day they first met, but even louder.
“Here she is, mate.” Garrett clamped a hand on Caz’s shoulder. His arm dropped from her waist. Caz turned at the touch and he faced her. His blue-green eyes searched hers.
Garrett said, “I’ll leave you to it, then. I want to do my duty and get inside before all the finger foods disappear. I hear they have puff pastries with crab and capers.” He swaggered to the roped-off fans.
The lights hit her eyes and she blinked against the white spots. She dug in her purse for her sunglasses and shoved them on. The camera flashes intensified now that she was this close to Caz.
Caz stepped close and grabbed her hand. The crowd continued its chanting roar. “Caspian!”
Ashley quickly pulled free of his grip.
“Wait.”
Ashley couldn’t really hear the word but she read it on his lips. “Inside,” she said. “I’ll see you inside.”
His agent gestured toward a dais set up for interviews.
Caz shook his head at her. “Just a minute.”
Ashley looked over her shoulder toward the premiere entrance.
Caz put his mouth against her ear and kind of yelled, “Please wait. I’m talking to Garrett, did you see?”
Be gracious and distant, she told herself. Stay out of his personal life. She’d practiced the words at home and on the plane a number of times. She was going to say that he looked great and wish him luck on the film. Putting her mouth to his ear, Ashley said instead, “I’m glad.” She breathed in the fragrance of his ocean shower gel, and calmed. “No, sorry, um, I meant good luck on the film. It’s good to see you again. I’ll catch you later.”
His agent moved in. “You’re scheduled to—”
“A minute,” Caz said urgently.
His agent touched Caz’s elbow. “She can stay with us, but we have to move forward.”
Caz shook his head and folded his arm, staying put.
His agent turned to Ashley. “Nice to see you again, Ashley, but you’re causing a delay.” Her tone didn’t sound like it was nice to see her again.
Familiar with Caz’s stubborn streak, Ashley said, “Sure, which way?” She nodded toward the agent, indicating she should lead.
Caz clenched his hands and followed them. Two paces in, he unclenched one and reached for her hand. Ashley stayed out of his reach. He moved closer until they reached the steps that led up to a platform.
Petra stood on top, being interviewed. She wore a fuchsia-colored dress, and a matching, jeweled hairclip that held back half of her dark hair. Swiveling her hips, she swept her train into one hand and held the skirts toward the reporter. If looks were anything to go by, the interviewer was getting a rundown about each thread.
An assistant wearing an earpiece held up a hand in Caz’s direction.
“Promise me you’ll wait,” Caz said.
Ashley looked around. A lot of people were headed for the auditorium. “Um.”
“You have to promise me, or I walk out, and leave with you now.”
Sometimes he could be very British and understated. That was how he gave the illusion that he was normal—not tonight though. He’d had weeks to call her, and he wanted to talk while they were on the red carpet with a million eyes and cameras on them.
“Promise me,” Caz said.
“I promise.”
Caz lifted her sunglasses to look in her eyes.
“I promise. Go.”
Caz put a warm hand to the side of her face and whispered in her ear. “I hoped you’d be here.”
“They’re ready for you, Mr. Thaymore.”
Caz’s hand slowly fell from Ashley’s cheek and he jogged up the steps to join Petra and the interviewer. Petra hooked her arm through his.
The crowd chanted, “CasPet, CasPet.” Petra waved to the crowd.
Caz didn’t turn. He faced the reporter and spoke into a microphone, and it was only a few minutes before he jogged back down to her. Petra remained on the platform, still talking.
Caz took her hand in his. “Okay, then, let’s get inside.”
Ashley tugged against his hold, but he wouldn’t release her. The more the cameras flashed, the more she pulled, a smile pasted on her lips to keep up impressions. Realizing he wasn’t going to let go, Ashley stopped the struggle and said through her smile, “What are you doing?” She hoped he could hear her over the crowd.
Caz leaned closer. “I can demonstrate better if you want.” He tilted his head.
Her heart thumped and Ashley jerked quickly back. “No. Inside.”
Someone pushed in from behind her, propelling her into Caz’s hard body. Caz stopped her fall.
“Excuse me.” The redheaded Lorene pushed past them dressed in a green hoop-skirted dress, à la Scarlett O’Hara, and climbed the steps. When she reached the top, she put her hands on her hips.
Petra finished answering her interview question before facing Lorene.
Lorene shouted, “You stole my part.” The words were loud enough that anyone below the dais could hear.
Petra touched her fingertips to her chest, in a who megesture. Lorene narrowed in.
The security guard left Caz’s side and took the steps two at a time. Lorene pushed Petra. Petra hit the rail and the metal framework shook. After pausing in a carefully draped pose, Petra lunged forward and shoved back. The camera moved in for a close-up.
Lorene said, “The bikini ski instructor gig was mine.”
Petra formed her hands around imaginary skis and pushed off. Lorene screamed. The suited security guard grabbed her and dragged her wriggling, protesting body out of view.
Petra put a limp hand on her forehead and glided back to the interviewer, leaning into the microphone.
Caz’s agent rushed forward. “Go up there. See if Petra’s okay.”
“She’s fine,” Caz said.
“You’re co-stars. Go.” His agent took out a cigarette.
Caz shook his head.
“You owe it to the film.”
Caz stiffened and his fingers tightened against Ashley’s fingers. “The film is complete. The interviews are complete. My owing them anything is over.”
The agent dug for her lighter. She didn’t light the cigarette, but she tapped the end against the top of the lighter. “Ashley, you don’t mind waiting, do you? I need to speak to Caspian about this opportunity.”
“I—” Ashley didn’t get to finish her sentence before Caz got between her and the agent.
“You’re fired.”
His agent narrowed her eyes and lit her cigarette, but she didn’t say anything, just sucked in a deep draw of the cigarette and exhaled the acrid smoke.
Caz said nothing more; he turned to the entrance of the theater, leading Ashley by the hand. Numerous people tried to stop him for a chat, but Caz made them walk and talk because he didn’t pause for anyone. Inside, the lobby was almost as loud, with everyone excited to see the film.
Caz said, “When we were in the car, in front of your house in Houston, I knew.”
Ashley ignored him and said, “You just fired your agent.”
Caz rolled his shoulders. “Yeah.” His eyes looked out to the horizon before turning back to her. “I should have followed you into your house.”
A studio executive pushed his way between them to shake Caz’s hand. “Looking forward to the film.”
“Thanks,” Caz said, and the man moved on.
“What does that mean?” Ashley said.
The AD interrupted them next. He’d trimmed his goatee short and looked as tense as he’d looked on set. After shaking Caz’s hand, he offered a handshake to Ashley. She shook awkwardly with her left hand because Caz still refused to relinquish her right.