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  “No, nothing like that. She just…well, maybe I just feel bad. She’s been nothing but professional with me. I didn’t trust her to get me big jobs. Joe said that having a…a lesbian as an agent would almost certainly work against me in the film industry.”

  The words were out before she could edit them, and Kate didn’t miss the hurt that registered in Laurel’s expression. She hastened to add, “I’m sorry, sis, I’m embarrassed that I was ever that shallow. You know how much I love you and am happy for you and Stef. She’s terrific. I was just so insecure and listened to every word that Joe said.” This was all Dasher Pate’s fault. She got Kate so distracted she blurted things before she thought about how she sounded.

  “And now? She’s very successful. What about now?”

  With a huff, Kate said, “She’s polite and cool. She’d probably laugh in my face and tell me what a no-talent actress I am. She’d follow that up with the thought that I can keep doing those inane romantic comedies and thrillers until I’ve had so much plastic surgery no one will recognize me.”

  “You haven’t done any surgery, have you? You’re beautiful just as you are. Don’t go down that road, Kate.”

  “No, I haven’t. Yet. Joe’s making noises like I should, though. Why is it that in LA the male stars can look like shit into their nineties and they still have leading women in their twenties, while women are considered washed up at forty unless they’ve had major work done?”

  “Because the men control most of the money and that’s their fantasy. Every time I fly down to Los Angeles I’m astounded at the number of gorgeous women on the arms of these really ugly old guys with big grins. It’s awful. Besides, you’re only twenty-nine.”

  “Sis, let’s not go there. It’s hard enough.” Until she uttered those words she hadn’t realized how hard nearing thirty in the film industry really felt to her.

  “Okay, sorry, Kate. I thought Dasher might be a respite from that part of your career. She seems, I don’t know, honorable.”

  Kate was surprised at her own tone when she ground out, “That opinion after meeting her for fifteen seconds. You did just watch her check in with that teenager, right? Being gay doesn’t disqualify her from taking advantage of her position.”

  Staring at the monitors as Dasher and Greta walked toward the elevators, Laurel said, “Maybe, maybe not. I’ve always read that Greta was straight.”

  Kate huffed. “You know better than to believe what you read when it concerns Hollywood. Besides, I’ve known actresses who would bed anyone to get a role.”

  Staring at the smiling women on the monitor, Laurel said, “Well, Dasher Pate got separate rooms for them. So, draw your own conclusions.”

  Chapter Two

  Exhausted, Dasher dropped Greta off at her room and they promised to meet for dinner. She had a bunch of e-mails to answer and phone calls to make, and Greta was busy planning for her weekend in the wine country.

  “Ah, youth.” For some reason Dasher wasn’t feeling particularly youthful these days. At thirty-two she was in good health and exercised faithfully, but she hadn’t had fun in such a long time. She enjoyed Greta’s exuberance, though, and had promised to whisk her away from the hectic merry-go-round her blooming career had set her on. If only for a weekend.

  Greta had been restless lately, so Dasher decided it was better to bring her up here than for Greta to make a break for it. If that happened, who knew when she’d return? This way, Dash had more control. Sad, but true. Sometimes she hated this business.

  Sighing, Dasher kicked her shoes off, then shrugged out of her suit jacket. She’d really rather be camping. Greta had invited her to indulge in the wine tasting, and she politely declined. If she’d begged her to go camping for a few nights, the temptation would have been hard to resist.

  She’d spent time with her family in northern California as a kid. The air smelled different up here, particularly in the woods. In addition to the pine trees, the magnificent redwoods, eucalyptus, bay trees, all with their own distinctive odors, blended to make the air exhilarating. She’d played for hours with her imaginary friends and the forest creatures. Those were her fondest memories.

  Having to stare at her computer burst that pleasant bubble. Running into Kate Hoffman hadn’t helped. When Stefanie Beresford invited Dasher to the shakedown cruise of her new hotel, Stef said she wanted her to meet someone special. Stef told her she’d fallen in love and hadn’t mentioned her love’s name, only that she was a professor of some sort.

  Even if Stef had said the name, Dash probably wouldn’t have registered there could be a connection. Seeing Laurel and Kate together, Dash had no doubt. Those eyes. The sisters had large, lime green eyes surrounded by thick dark lashes that were mesmerizing.

  They were certainly a major attraction for Kate’s fans. Her eyes, her body, and her hair were all real. Dasher couldn’t even let herself think of the drooling that went on about Kate’s breasts. It made her want to stick a gigantic sweatshirt on her and hide her in a cabin in the woods.

  Odd reaction over a woman who had dumped Dasher for a slimy agent and refused to be civil to her. Still, she hated it when others made derogatory or smarmy remarks about Kate Hoffman. She wouldn’t put up with it for her own clients either. But Kate wasn’t her client. And she was straight. She didn’t need protection. Dasher had recited those reasons so often to herself they were beginning to sound like her mantra.

  *

  After assuring herself that Dasher and Greta were staying on the lower floors, Kate picked up her Elysium card and limped to the private elevator toward the back of the lobby, obscured by a large potted plant. She swiped the card and held her hand to the scanning plate, and then the elevator door opened. As she stepped inside, a pleasant female voice greeted her by name. The lift smoothly rose to the top floor of the hotel and the voice gave her a weather forecast, wishing her a pleasant stay. A far cry from the first time Laurel had shown Kate around.

  Then, only a year or so ago, they’d practically tripped over the holes in the musty hallway carpeting. They dodged construction debris and were expected to help out if someone needed a hand. On several occasions she’d even spent an hour or two schlepping buckets of this and that or holding one end of something until the other end was hammered or screwed into place. She’d enjoyed every minute.

  Now, it all smelled new, but not overpowering. The hotel was finished with ecologically friendly paints, flooring materials, and fabrics. The windows in the rooms could open—not enough to toss oneself out of, but enough to capture a bit of the fresh cool sea breezes for which San Francisco was famous. She hated those hermetically sealed hotels she’d been forced to stay in when traveling on promotion junkets. She always ended up with a headache.

  The heating and air-conditioning systems were completely filtered with monitors gauging particulate matter and automatic cleaning processes. They were wonderful for her allergies and similar to the ones at her home in Malibu. With each visit she found another reason this place was ideal for women travelers and for housing the Elysium Society.

  The meeting of the society was the next day and she was looking forward to it. Never much of a joiner, she had been helping Laurel get things organized and had gotten to know many of the members. Irina Castic had a new project that she and Seraphina Drake had dreamt up, and they would be introducing it and calling for volunteers to staff it. They had been so secretive, and they literally giggled with each other when she and Laurel tried to wheedle information out of them. Her curiosity was piqued, to say the least. She and Laurel volunteered to be on that committee, no matter what it was.

  Laurel had asked her and she surprised herself by saying yes. Being forced to sit with her leg up a lot of the time had given her not-always-welcome time to think about where she was in her life. The conclusion disheartened her.

  Her career had taken up so much time, and she had few friends to show for it. Los Angeles and the fame business did not inspire trust or honor. She’d had many who claimed
to be her friend, only to try to undercut her to get a role she was being offered or drop her if someone they thought better served them came along.

  Last month Laurel sent her a refrigerator magnet. On it was a quote from Eleanor Roosevelt that said, “Do one thing every day that scares you.” She laughed when she first read it. She had taken on Hollywood, she was a huge star. That’s scary stuff.

  All she really knew about Eleanor Roosevelt was that she had been a First Lady and she would never measure up to Hollywood standards of beauty. But curiosity sent her to the Internet to look her up. The woman would definitely have qualified as a member of the Elysium Society. When she mentioned her name to Seraphina and Irina, they wouldn’t confirm or deny, but their eyes gave them away. They had met or known her, Kate was positive of that.

  The quote stuck with Kate. What scared her? Perhaps friendship did. Her only true friend was Laurel. Her mind derailed to a stab of regret. Laurel had always been there for her, but Kate had blindly accepted that the woman Laurel was with before Stef was a good person, even though she personally didn’t like her. She had ignored the obvious tension between them. The difference between that relationship and the one Laurel shared with Stefanie Beresford was night and day.

  Seeing Laurel so happy made Kate wonder about exactly what had gone on with Laurel’s ex. Laurel didn’t talk about it, but Kate never pressed, either, a stance that was convenient for her. Only once had she dared to ask, and when Laurel gave her a tepid denial, she let it slide. She was so wrapped up in her own drama, she refused to see her sister shrinking away. To this day she wondered if Rochelle had been violent, but she was too cowardly to ask.

  This new Laurel was a lovely, confident woman, and the contrast fascinated Kate. She must have been terribly brave to pull away from Rochelle’s dominating personality.

  The women who surrounded Laurel and Stefanie were wonderful and inclusive, but Kate still felt like an outsider. Probably because she’d always been an outsider. Oh, she was popular, the queen of this and that, but well liked? No one bothered to get to know anything more than what was on the surface. If she was really honest, she supposed she didn’t try very hard in that department either. She didn’t need to.

  Friendships were formed by building trust, which took time and, yes, courage. Kate had read something like that recently and it struck her as true. She resolved then to follow Laurel’s example and do one thing every day that scared her. If Laurel could do it, so could she. Hell, volunteering for that dumb committee, sight unseen, was scary. Of that she was sure. As the elevator doors opened to the Elysium floors, she felt better. She had a plan.

  She let herself into her beautifully appointed suite. It had a large, comfortable working area with table and couch, and both the chair and desk were adjustable for height. Secure wireless ran throughout the building, with the Elysium floors having their own server, so she could plop anywhere with her laptop and check her e-mail without fear of being hacked or stalked. Oh, the joys of fame.

  She kept cold wraps for her knee in the discreetly placed small refrigerator and was grateful for it and the fabulously stocked bar and wine selection in the common room. Members could help themselves or order whatever they wished. Now that she was off the pain meds she could explore what it had to offer.

  The bed was luxurious, the bathroom shower had two showerheads and a steam vent, and the soaking tub that sat next to it had been suggested by one of the members of the society. The hotel’s other special feature that appealed to Kate was its high level of security and privacy. She could look like hell, as if that was something she would even dream of doing, and not worry that someone would pull out their cell phone to grab a shot and later post it online. The Elysium Society members had a code of conduct that protected them all.

  At the hotel Kate didn’t have to worry about being followed to her room for an autograph or some guy deciding she was his next wife and wanting to prove it. She was getting more of those in Los Angeles, and Joe Alder was taking full advantage of such situations for the free publicity.

  She had a huge argument with Joe on that subject just last week, even accusing him of hiring the stalkers to stir up the notoriety. He complained that if she would at least get arrested or have a public fight with someone, his job would be easier. She told him if he’d work harder to get her more challenging roles, her acting would do the talking for her. They’d become more contentious with each other over the past year, and she was just plain tired of it.

  Joe had never been able to get her into bed, something he’d tried many times. Now he had a new actress who was more than willing to screw him, and if he could replace Kate with her, he would. He was even paying for her to get plastic surgery, making her look more like Kate each time. It was weird.

  When Laurel had suggested that perhaps it was time to find a new agent, she had only voiced what Kate had been thinking about for some time, but was too insecure to act on. She’d made a mistake five years ago when she signed with Joe instead of Dasher.

  She hadn’t been thinking about only her career when she turned Dasher down. She was enormously attracted to her, a fact that had so many ramifications, it terrified her.

  *

  Laurel poked her head into Stefanie’s office and spotted her wearing her new glasses, staring at the computer screen. Laurel had insisted on the glasses when she caught Stef squinting and holding the papers far away to try to decipher them one too many times.

  Stef resisted at first, saying she didn’t want to give in to old age. When Laurel reminded her that she wore them and Stef had always responded passionately to them, Stef weakly pouted that it was only because Laurel looked incredibly sexy in them and she knew she wouldn’t.

  Plucking her own glasses off and putting them on Stef, Laurel dragged her to a mirror and made her look. Then she whispered something very naughty in her ear and told her how turned on she was because she looked terrific in them. Laurel chuckled at the memory, because the next morning Stef made an appointment with the ophthalmologist.

  “Darling, are you busy?” She waited as Stef held up one finger, evidently hit Send, and swiveled to face her.

  “Never too busy for you, Laur. What’s up?”

  “Not much, just missed you. Kate checked in, she’s still limping a lot. But she seemed to forget about it when your friend Dasher Pate arrived with Greta Sarnoff. She almost carried me into the office to get away from them. That was after she and Pate had a tense but polite square-off. I didn’t know they knew each other.”

  Stef removed her glasses and chewed on one stem, already familiar with ways to fiddle with them. “Wonder how they met. Dash and I’ve been buddies since my Beresford days. She tried hotel sales for a nanosecond, but discovered she’s better at selling people than rooms. Did you meet her?”

  Grabbing a quick kiss over the desk, Laurel settled into the chair across from Stefanie. “Yes, she’s a knockout in a dark, brooding, alluring way, and seems very nice. Other than sparring with Kate, it all went smoothly. Strange, but Kate seemed miffed about something, I’m not sure what. She said she didn’t want anyone to think she was admiring Sarnoff, but I swear seeing Dasher upset her. Very confusing.”

  Stefanie shook her head. “Well, if that upset her, wait until she finds out Dasher has been invited to join Elysium. She’ll croak.”

  Laurel had forgotten that detail. “Should I warn her? The meeting’s tomorrow.”

  Stefanie grinned at her. “Your sister has survived very nicely in the wilds of filmdom. I think she can handle this. Besides, maybe she’ll get to know Dasher better and get over whatever this is. Dasher’s truly one of the nicest, most loyal women I know.”

  Laurel nibbled her nail, not sure she wanted an answer to her question. “Were you two ever, you know, together?” She hated jealousy of any kind, but somehow she had to know.

  “Lovers? No. That would be like sleeping with my sister. Ew. Now, sleeping with your sister…”

  Laurel looked away and tried to
hide her pain.

  “Laur? What’s wrong? I was only teasing…oh shit. I’m sorry, darling. That was thoughtless.” She dropped her glasses and quickly rounded her desk and took Laurel in her arms and kissed her gently.

  “I only have eyes and body and soul for you. I like Kate, but she’s your sister and that’s where it ends. Now, come on, let’s go examine our new quarters in the executive suite. Surely we can find at least one surface we haven’t made love on, if we look hard enough.”

  Stefanie held her close and seemed to wait for Laurel’s reply. Her words about Kate had reminded Laurel of her former girlfriend Rochelle’s obsession with Kate. But Stefanie’s apology seemed heartfelt and made the memory of Rochelle’s behavior fade more. Laurel relaxed in Stefanie’s arms.

  “We might be able to ferret out one or two. Sure you have time?”

  Stefanie’s deep brown eyes had turned almost black, and Laurel knew what that meant. “If we don’t hurry I’m taking you right here, right now. I mean it.”

  “What about the elevator?”

  “No. I don’t want to entertain Security that much.”

  Grabbing Stefanie’s hand, Laurel said, “Let’s go.”

  *

  Across the street from the hotel, Chaz Hockaday and Michael Chiu snapped more exterior shots of the building while they waited for even more action.

  “This is a goldmine!” Chaz said. “Not only do we have shots of Hoffman arriving but also Greta Sarnoff and Dasher Pate. The boss’ll pay a load of money to see these. Then we can sell the ones he doesn’t want. I told you taking this side job would pay off. Gimme five!”

  Michael Chiu wasn’t convinced. “Chaz, this still feels weird to me. We’ve got enough shots to pay the rent for a month, and I’m sure we’ll get more. Why do we have to keep dogging these women at the hotel?”

  Chaz shook his head. “Don’t you get it? We’re paparazzi, sometimes we don’t eat. This dude is paying a freaking fortune for these shots. It’s not personal, just business. Buck up, Mikey, my boy. We’re in the cash now.”