Eva Bishop spooned peanut butter out of the container and ate it whole. So much for her pretend life as an actress where she made out she was glamorous. These days, her apartment had a broken air conditioner and her refrigerator was empty.
She rubbed her belly. She had to eat—her baby had to be strong. Somehow, she'd find a way for this baby girl to have more than she’d ever got.
A knock on her door made it shake. She put her spoon in the jar and hid it in the refrigerator. It was probably the landlord wondering where her rent was. Right now, she had no idea either. She had no idea about a lot of things.
"Eva, let me in."
Brandon Campbell's voice echoed in the air. In high school Brandon had been brooding and superior. That was before he became the now billionaire movie producer. He seemed to have a permanent scowl on his face and she had no idea how he was so successful. He’d never liked her much. She unlocked her three locks, brushed her hair out of her face, and opened the door. "Brandon, go away."
"You'll want to hear my offer," he said, and walked inside her small studio. The couch had seen better days, though it was left over from her last play that she’d ended up funding entirely on her own, despite going hungry.
"I'm not acting anymore." Not that she had any job at the moment. Or income. Or savings. Not that she'd think about that right now—other than she needed to eat and not go hungry for the next few months.
"I know you're pregnant."
At least he hadn't thought her fat, though her pseudo friend Penny, had encouraged her by saying no one would suspect it, even after Eva almost ruined Penny’s wedding. Brandon hadn't been at that wedding though she remembered in high school his words, 'good girls needed to protect themselves' after she’d argued with his sister. She narrowed her gaze at the dark-haired, dark-eyed man who haunted her because he always hated everything about her. "Who told you?"
"My sister."
Calliope. Great. This was worse than high school, all over again. Chris, the fool who’d impregnated her and still intended to marry Calliope without ever letting the bride know about Eva and him. He had pretty much been the last straw in her dating life. He must have tried to go back to her again. Calliope was smart enough to walk away once before. She swallowed.
"She heard it from Chris." Said Brandon.
"If she goes back to him, then she's a fool." She shook her head. "But I won't say a word to them. I seriously will stay out of their lives, forever."
"I say sue Chris for every penny he's worth."
"Oh." So Brandon hated Chris, too. He must have good judgment, then.
Brandon’s gaze narrowed. "And my sister is very much in love with Michael."
"Michael Marshall?" Her voice cracked. Michael was the closest thing she had to a friend who never judged her. He deserved to be in love and happy, and in theory Calliope was good for him. However, it now meant her last single friend was unavailable to call on a whim anymore. Jay, Penny, Sandy, Wyatt, and now Michael were all happily coupled or engaged.
Brandon crossed his hands. "Yeah."
The dark-haired jerk from high school who had always judged her with his every look had no right to be in her messy, small studio. She'd been too tired to clean up lately, though she was no longer throwing up. She needed to lead him to the door and get back to watching a movie. She brushed the goosebumps on her arms. "Brandon, look, I'm not trying to hurt anyone, and Chris is not part of my life."
"I would hope not."
There was that judgment of his again. She stepped back. She was so tired of facing her mistakes. "So, you can go. I hope Calliope and Michael live happily-ever-after."
"Me too."
He had warned her off—there was nothing left for him. The minutes ticked past. He should go. She lowered the hands that covered her belly. "I know you've never liked my life choices."
"Look, it's Christmas, and if there’s one person in the world who needs Christmas, it's you."
Oh great. This was far worse then. Brandon Campbell thought he could come in here and save her. Eva and her baby would be okay. He’d tried that once in high school too, but she’d ducked and hidden until he'd lost sight of her. Now she'd figure out her own life. "You don't have to feel sorry for me, Brandon. I'm not a charity case."
"I know you don't have anyone."
In the past, true, she’d never had anyone she could depend on except herself. She had gone to their high school on an acting scholarship, but always knew deep in her gut no one would ever be the foster kid's friend, though her circle of friends stayed wide. She learned that the hard way. She patted her stomach. "That's not true. Soon, I'll have my daughter."
"Eva, how are you going to support her?"
"I'll figure it out." If there was one thing life had taught her, was that there was always a way, and that was truly the Christmas miracle. "I'm not looking for any more fast bucks and intend to find a steady job."
"Good." He came closer and lowered his head. He smelled good, like cinnamon and cedar trees, which threw her off. A second later, he said, "You just gave away the two million dollars?"
Right. How she almost ruined her friends, Jay and Penny’s wedding on the cruise ship. Jay’s mother had offered to pay her an outrageous sum, but to stop his mother, Jay had ended up doubling the offer to two million for her silence at a wedding she was supposed to only ever be a guest at. With that money, she made good on everything owed, and she and her baby were going to start fresh. As soon as she found a job, life would be better. She pushed her hair behind her ears and explained, "I made good on my promise to pay everyone off from the play."
"That was a waste. They took chances when they agreed to perform and it shut down."
Brandon was ever the cold-hearted businessman. People had joined her performance on faith and she'd make it right for them. "Everyone had families to take care of. I needed to keep my word."
"Even if you can't afford the hospital bill."
Point for him—not that she should be taking life points. They weren't even friends. She avoided being near him. He was Hollywood, glitz and glamour. Whereas the only part of acting that made her feel anything was the audience applause of a nightly show. She craved it. It was all she ever wanted until she found out she was having a baby. "I'm talking to a midwife. She says I can have her at home and save money."
"Eva—"
She put her hand up in front of him. He was all judgment, all the time. "Don't. I know you hate me. You don't have to be here at all, actually. We have nothing to say to each other."
"I don't hate you."
The words stung. Her gaze flickered to the horrible leftover tree she’d scrounged from someone else's trash, with its flickering lights. Her life might not be fancy, but she didn't need his approval or his help. If he didn't hate her, and he knew everything about her life, he couldn’t be smart and that wasn't good at all. She hadn't even told Michael or any of her friends the entire truth. She crossed her arms. "Hate is the wrong word. You look down your nose and pity me. I don't need that. I never did."
"In high school, I was unhappy with my own life, and if I was rude to you, I think that was more because you were kissing Tommy Pratt."
"He was my boyfriend." Her pulse raced. He knew. Oh goodness. He knew it all. It would be better if he just hated her.
"You still call him that?" Brandon asked.
Her face lowered, and she saw how many of her clothes were on the couch. No wonder he hadn't wanted to sit. Her pulse zapped, and she moved closer to her door. "Don't. There’s that judgment. You can go."
"What happened to you on your prom night is why you slept with a man like Chris."
"Don’t start analyzing me." Psychology wasn’t supposed to be used as a weapon. In foster care, she’d been one of the lucky ones that finished school and been reasonably safe. Before her foster mother, Mary, had died, she made her go to Church on Sundays and pray every night for an hour, but she’d protected her and supported her acting. She'd almost stayed innocent until the end. She reached for the door. "Your sister almost married him."
"Almost, but she smartened up. Now she’s with Michael."
Okay, she was confused on his intentions again. Brandon made no sense in her place, and her head hurt from trying to figure him out. She pointed toward the door. "Either way, it's time you to leave."
Again, he came closer to her but this time she felt safe. Most people who came this close ended up in her bed because she never believed in feelings enough to open up her heart to anyone. Life had taught her no one ever truly kept their word and to judge based on actions.
"Wait." He stilled and said, "I meant what I said about having a job for you."
His line of work was not her specialty, and in her condition the cameras added pounds. "Why? I’ve never done movies. I've mostly done stage work."
"You have the ability, and that's only part of the job anyhow."
Part? He was a producer. She was an actress. She lowered her hands to her sides, her gaze narrowed. "What do you want?"
"I'm producing a movie starring Matthew Morgan and Jennifer Gonzales. I need a pregnant villain character and also a spy which means you’re pretty perfect, and we both know you need the money."
Acting had always been her saving grace. Perhaps this was her way out of her mess of a life. She paced back and forth until she walked toward the window that faced the back of another building. Wherever Brandon lived must have a nice ocean view, just like all her former classmates. Once, she thought she might fit in their world, but over and over again she learned she never would. Her daughter deserved to have stability, and that was her goal, but a job that paid meant she could save up and finally decide which small town she could disappear to, away from the Miami lifestyle. "Why is she a villain?"
"So, you are interested?"
"Maybe." A few paychecks paid a few overdue bills. She turned toward him and wondered why a movie producer had such well-built arms, but a second later, she sucked in her breath and realized those muscles were probably necessary for these Hollywood types. Either way, this got her out of a jam. "What's the character?"
Brandon spoke down his nose and stared at her. "Laura, your character, shot and killed her husband, and the hero wants to prove it. So it's a game of cat and mouse, where you initially sent Maggie, Jennifer's character, to spy on George, Matthew's character. Laura will kill again if necessary though no one suspects it's you who killed your husband—not until the end."
"Laura sounds interesting, but what am I spying on?"
"Someone on set has gone way over budget."
"That’s vague. Who do you think is spending too much money?"
"Someone is charging expenses that don't make sense for a movie. If I have a pretend girlfriend to visit on the set, I won't set off the temperamental director, or the fiery Jennifer Gonzales, and people will assume you're the reason I stop by so often."
A pretend girlfriend was the best she'd get at a real-life. She knew Brandon wouldn't think of her romantically—ever. "Didn't you have a fiancée?"
"Two years ago, and yes. Grace left me, a long time ago."
Brandon probably tried to protect her too. Eva’s insides churned because she’d never exactly been good at accepting help or protection from people who were better than her. For her baby, she had to try and trust. Brandon Campbell still offered when he knew what no one else knew. Her heart whispered to let him in and that, her Christmas miracle had just knocked on her door and saved her. She swallowed and said, "Okay, I'll do it."
"Good. I need you in test shots, starting tomorrow."
Test shots meant he was serious. Good. She needed this. She nodded. "What happened to your other actress?"
"She didn't test well with Jennifer."
Fiery matched what she’d heard about Jennifer Gonzales, the soap actress about to bloom into a movie star. Some of her co-stars had worked on her television show. Somehow, Eva would find a place on the set, and she needed to be grateful. "Brandon..."
His eyes widened. "Yeah?"
"Thanks." Her face felt warm.
He placed his hand on his back pocket. "Eva, as I said at the beginning, I know what it's like to be alone at Christmas. With you being pregnant, if you need a friend, you can call me."
Brandon's parents had died in high school, leaving him and his sister trust fund babies, but it was probably the fiancée or his life in LA that had changed him. Whatever it was, her baby needed this. "Brandon?"
"Yes?"
If she spoke about the truth, then maybe she had a shot at more. "You are right. That prom night changed me."
"I figured."
Tommy had invited his friends into the hotel room and no one cared that she’d screamed. The memory flooded her, again. Usually, she used this as a reason to break into tears on stage. This time, she had a new memory, and she whispered. "I should also thank you for breaking Tommy's nose."
"It wasn't enough. He should have gone to jail."
"He is." She answered.
Brandon crossed his arms again, he leaned closer. "What?"
His nearness felt nice. "He's in jail for raping another woman."
"Good."
For a few minutes, neither of them said anything. Outside, her neighbor started Christmas music and the melody of Silent Night filled the air. She was in no way anything like the Virgin Mary, but this Christmas she had been thinking about how she must have felt—alone and scared.
Brandon broke the spell. "Eva, if I ask you out to dinner, you won't get any strange ideas, will you? I want to know you and your baby are properly fed and ready for tomorrow."
No one like Brandon would ever really be into her anyhow, but the mostly-eaten peanut butter hadn't filled her, and it was all that was in her refrigerator. She nodded and grabbed the blue shawl that covered her belly nicely. "Brandon, I've never had a guy as a friend that I've not ended up sleeping with, but I'm willing to give it a try, if you are."
"Let's go." He said as he stepped over a broken chair she’d meant to throw away.
As the door to her apartment closed behind her, she now had something she hadn't felt in weeks. Hope coursed through her veins, and with luck, this feeling would stay.