Chapter Three

Take one more step toward me, Cat, and I’ll shoot you,” the dark-haired man said in a smooth baritone.

When he moved his arm as though to reach for something in his jacket, Cat launched herself across the room and took him down. His well-developed muscles rippled beneath her fingers as she pushed her hands into the wide expanse of his back.

He fell forward, his forehead bouncing off the arm of the club chair at the same time a cat, its white hair standing on end, hissed and flew at her. Startled, Cat jerked back, raising an arm to push the animal away. The thought that the man might have been threatening the cat, and not her, crossed her mind. But it didn’t explain why he’d broken into her sister’s dressing room.

Straddling him, Cat grabbed his arm to twist it behind his back. She felt the tension in his body as he shifted, and suspected he meant to throw her off. “I wouldn’t if I were you. Stay…” she began to advise him when an outraged cry cut her off. She twisted to see an older woman come charging out of the bathroom with her cane raised.

The man beneath Cat took advantage of her brief moment of inattention and effortlessly broke her grip on his arm. Before she could react, he flipped over in one smooth movement so that she now straddled his stomach. Along with her disbelief that he’d gotten the best of her was the thought that he reeked of cologne. It was worse than walking through the perfume aisle at a department store.

“Est…” He removed his hand from Cat’s hip, a hand she hadn’t realized had been there until now, and sneezed into his arm. “… elle, put down the cane.” He directed his command at the older woman.

As the woman did as he asked, his ice-blue gaze returned to Cat. She blinked as much from the disdain she saw in his eyes as to his traffic-stopping beauty. Thick hair the color of dark chocolate was slicked back from his chiseled features, a strong masculine nose, square jaw, and full lips on a wide mouth. Only the dent on his forehead and a white scar bisecting his left eyebrow marred his perfection. Well, that and his puffy, bloodshot eyes.

“Kit Kat, what did you do? This poor cat ran terrified from my dressing—” her sister began from behind her before the older woman cut her off.

“Fluffy, my poor baby. Come to Mommy.”

Cat swiveled to see the woman trying to extricate the purring animal from her sister’s arms. Chloe, attempting to remove Fluffy’s nails from her velour hoodie, stared at Cat with an appalled expression on her face. “Why are you sitting on that man?”

“I…” Cat looked from her sister to the man in question. She was still sitting on him. On his rock-hard abs. Why hadn’t she moved? Because everything happened too fast. It was the only acceptable explanation. It had nothing to do with being stunned stupid by his movie-star good looks.

He raised an eyebrow. What was with the sardonic look? Oh, no, he was not putting her on the defensive. He’d broken into her sister’s dressing room. Cat attempted to get off him without any further rubbing of her body on his, which wasn’t easy. She gave up and awkwardly scrambled to her feet.

“About bloody time,” she thought he muttered, but couldn’t be sure because she was back to being stunned stupid when he flashed her a smile. A smile so gorgeous it belonged in a toothpaste commercial.

Pathetic. Cat was so off her game, it wasn’t even funny. Here she was thinking about his full, seductive lips and his perfect white teeth when her sister’s life was on the line. Cat fisted her hands on her hips, put on her cop face, and went to glare down at the man. Only, he rose to his feet with leonine grace, tugging the sleeves of his white shirt below his suit sleeves. She had to look up and took one step back, then another.

Behind her, Chloe sucked in a breath. Cat knew what that sucking sound meant, and it wasn’t good. Her sister had gotten her first good look at the man. “Chloe, wait for me in the hall. I need to question—”

Her sister practically threw the animal at the older woman, shoving Cat out of the way with her hand extended. And there it was again, his smile. Only, this one seemed friendlier, more genuine, and just as flipping gorgeous. She waited for her sister to react. She didn’t disappoint.

Right on cue, Chloe fluffed her hair, did a flirty head tilt, and went to bat her eyes. Without her fake lashes beating against her cheeks, Chloe remembered she was makeup-less, which earned Cat a you’ll-pay-for-this look. She had no doubt Chloe would make good on her wordless threat for having to meet this man at less than her best. But Cat didn’t have time to worry in what form that payback would come.

“Ms. O’Connor, your photos don’t do you justice. I apologize for intruding on your privacy. My manager”—he nodded at the older woman, who was too busy examining her cat for injury to take part in the conversation—“needed to use the loo.” He held up a key. “Phil didn’t think you’d mind.”

Cat pinched the bridge of her nose. How did she miss that he was a Brit? On top of everything else, he had to have one of those obnoxiously sexy accents. Add the smooth baritone in which it was delivered, and she was surprised Chloe hadn’t melted into a puddle of quivering ecstasy. Cat chanced a glance at her sister, who gaped at the man while vigorously pumping his hand. Then her other hand joined in on the action, clasping his large, masculine hand between hers.

“No, no. My goodness, it’s my sister who should apologize for attacking you.” Chloe widened her eyes at Cat, nudging her head in the stranger’s direction.

As if. She didn’t believe one word coming out of tall, dark, and too-charming-to-be-real’s mouth. “Who are you, and why would Phil give you a key to my sister’s dressing room?”

“Halstead. Harry Halstead.” His pale blue eyes briefly locked with Cat’s before he directed his answer to Chloe. “My dressing room wasn’t ready yet, and as I said, Phil didn’t think it would be a problem. I’ll be—”

“Lord Harry Halstead, ninety-eighth in line for the throne, to be precise,” the older woman said in a snotty British accent, rubbing her cheek against the cat’s head. “I advised my client against taking the role, but it seems he’s a fan of yours, Ms. O’Connor.”

Cat thought she groaned inwardly, but from the raised eyebrows Lord Harry and his manager directed at her, she hadn’t. It didn’t matter. All she cared about was her sister’s reaction to the news. Chloe pressed a hand to her chest and released a breathy “Oh my.”

Which would have been comical if it wasn’t also worrisome. This guy checked every box on her sister’s to-marry-a-Brit list. Five months ago, a man who’d done the same failed to tell Chloe he was married. His wife, who caught them in flagrante delicto, had threatened to kill her sister. Cat had been in Christmas looking after her mother at the time.

If Lord Darby and his wife hadn’t kissed and made up and weren’t safely ensconced in their London flat, her ladyship would be on Cat’s suspect list. Cat closed her eyes. She didn’t need the added complication of protecting her sister from another smarmy British lord while trying to figure out who wanted Chloe dead.

Cat opened her eyes to see his lordship bent over her sister’s hand. While Chloe fanned herself, the man lifted his head, hurriedly reaching in his breast pocket to retrieve a… hankie. He sneezed. Cat stared at the lacy starched-white fabric, then took in his long, broad manicured fingers. And as the smell of his cologne filled her sister’s dressing room, laughter bubbled up in her throat. She bit the inside of her bottom lip, then managed to smile at the man now looking at her over her sister’s head. Cat had been worrying for nothing. Chloe could flirt with Lord Harry Halstead to her heart’s desire, and the man wouldn’t end up in her sister’s bed. He was gay.

*     *     *

Cat O’Connor’s beautiful, wide smile hit him with the same force as her lithe body had only moments ago. He couldn’t explain why. Maybe it was the way her long-lashed green eyes lit with amusement or the cute dimple that flashed to the left of her lush lips. Wait a minute, why had her earlier suspicion suddenly turned to amusement? He followed her gaze to the lace-trimmed hankie in his hand, his manicured nails—courtesy of GG—and had a flash of insight. She thought he was gay.

If he’d gone with his natural instinct—the one that had taken some effort to control—and flipped her onto her back, his response to her would have wiped that conclusion from her brain. His reaction had surprised and pissed him off. Sure she was hot, and having a hot woman straddle him, her heat warming his skin through his silk shirt, was hotter still. But he knew it wasn’t her face or body that had drawn the response—it was the holstered gun his fingers had brushed against under her leather jacket. Seems he’d developed a thing for dangerous women. Following so close on the heels of his screwup with Valeria Ramos, this was not a happy realization.

He worked to keep his mouth from flattening and refocused on her sister. At the covetous look in those identical green eyes, he decided gay was good. Until he remembered the whole point of him playing a British lord was to get close to Chloe. It would make it easier to protect her.

“Oh my gosh, you’re playing Rand Livingstone, aren’t you? This is so perfect. You’re perfect. Isn’t he perfect, Kit Kat?”

Her sister smirked. “Oh yeah, he’s perfect, all right.”

Obviously Chloe didn’t pick up on her sister’s sarcasm because she continued to stare at him while smoothing her hands down the lapels of his jacket. “I couldn’t have picked better myself. You’re everything I want in a lover. The boy they’d hired to—”

“Everything Tessa wants, isn’t that what you meant to say, Chloe?”

Chloe frowned at her sister. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

Before her sister could respond, his grandmother said, “Harry, perhaps you should ask Phillip if your dressing room is ready. I’d like to sit and have my morning tea while we read through the script.”

Grayson inwardly cursed; he should have known building his acting resume would outweigh GG’s interest in the investigation. She’d been trying to get him to become an actor since the day he’d moved in with her at the age of eight.

“Where are my manners? Please have a seat. You too, your lordship. My sister will make us some tea.” Chloe gently took his grandmother’s arm and steered her to one of the club chairs.

“Chloe, I don’t have time to make tea. I have—” Cat pinched the bridge of her straight and narrow nose as her sister talked over her. Grayson lowered himself in the other chair, watching the sisters’ interaction with interest.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name,” Chloe said to his grandmother.

Settling in the chair with Fluffy on her lap, GG lifted her chin. “Dame Estelle Alexander.”

Chloe’s expressive eyes widened, her mouth opening and closing before she said in a high-pitched voice, “Dame Estelle Alexander. You’re the Dame Estelle Alexander? What am I saying, of course you are. I should have recognized you. I can’t believe you’re sitting in my dressing room.” She flapped a hand in her sister’s direction. “Kit Kat, I feel faint.”

Cat’s shoulders rose on a sigh as she walked to the makeup table, returning with a chair and a container of pills. Grayson leaned forward, trying to get a better look at the prescription bottle in her hand. Her eyes slid his way, and she arched an eyebrow. He forced a smile, sat back in the chair, and tugged on his shirtsleeves. With a slight shake of her head, she placed two pills in Chloe’s waiting palm. He needed to get his hands on that prescription bottle. An overdose or a pill laced with cyanide would be a convenient way for her to eliminate her sister.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me today. I’m so scattered.” Chloe sank gracefully onto the chair Cat had brought to her. “Tea, Kit Kat. I need to wash them down.” Her sister opened her mouth, then closed it, stalking to a narrow counter on the opposite wall.

“Don’t mind her. She’s always cranky in the morning,” Chloe stage-whispered at the rattle of teacups and the slamming of an electric kettle. “We were late and had to rush out this morning, as you can see from the state of me.” She did an embarrassed sweep of her hand from her hair to her waist.

Grayson figured it was time to lay on the charm. “I have never seen a woman as stunning at seven in the morning.” His grandmother stroked Fluffy, the considering look she sent from Grayson to Chloe putting him on edge. He needed to remind her that any flirtation on his part was an act. He’d married the last actress she set him up with and that relationship had crashed and burned. He still had the scars.

“Thank… seven?” Chloe sent an exasperated look in her sister’s direction. “Honestly, Kit Kat, when are you going to listen to me?” Cat grunted in response and slammed something else. “I told her there must have been a power outage.”

Interesting. “Were your cell phones affected as well?” That earned him a glare from Cat. He smiled. Her eyes narrowed. He’d have to be more careful.

“I don’t know. I couldn’t find mine. Kit Kat, what time is it on your phone?”

“What does it matter? We’re here now,” she muttered, unplugging the whistling kettle.

It mattered quite a bit actually. Because if Cat had come in early to tamper with the set, he’d need to keep a closer eye on her. After yesterday’s “accident,” he’d assumed she’d wait a couple of days before trying again.

“I suppose it is a good thing that we arrived earlier than usual. Now we have more time to get better acquainted,” Chloe said with a winsome smile. “I can give you some background on the story line if you think it would helpful. I don’t want to mess with your process though.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t need you to fill him in. Estelle said he’s a big fan. Isn’t that right, Harry?” Cat handed him a cup of tea with a suspicious look in her green eyes.

“Bang on. Never miss an episode. I’m a card-carrying member of the Tessa Hart fan club.” He crossed his legs, raising his pinkie as he brought the cup to his mouth.

He didn’t quite catch it, but he thought Cat said stalker before turning to give his grandmother her cup. Okay, maybe he’d gone a little overboard.

Chloe pressed a hand to her chest. “I apologize for my sister’s lack of propriety. Kit Kat, it’s Lord Harry and Dame Alexander. You must use their titles when you address them.”

“Why? We’re not in the UK. I’m sure they don’t expect—”

His grandmother’s penciled eyebrows rose to her hairline. “We most certainly do.”

“Really? Because I seem to remember Harry calling you Estelle.”

“We’re family. It’s—”

She crossed her arms. “You’re family?”

He needed to have his head read for bringing GG along. “We’re like family. Estelle’s been my manager for years. And let’s not concern ourselves with propriety. You may address us in any manner you wish, Kit Kat.”

Her lips flattened. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

He held back a grin. If he wasn’t investigating her for attempted murder, he might just like this woman. He had a feeling they had a lot in common. Pain-in-the-ass actresses, for one.

As she lifted the teacup to her lips, his grandmother’s narrowed eyes moved from him to Cat. She knew him too damn well. He was relieved when she didn’t say anything, instead taking a sip of tea. She jerked back and stared at the cup. “This is the worst cup of tea I have ever tasted.”

Chloe took a sip and made a face. “You’re right, it is. Kit Kat, I think it needs to steep longer.”

“You’ll have to make it yourself. I have things to do. Why don’t you take a crack at it, Estelle? You must be an expert.” Cat headed for the door, and before Grayson could come up with a reason for her to stay, she was gone.

Grayson stood up. “I’ll take care of the tea.” He needed an excuse to leave the dressing room and follow Cat. With his back to Chloe and Estelle, he slid the tea bags into the inner pocket of his jacket. He turned and started for the door. “You appear to be out of tea bags. I’ll just—”

Chloe cut him off. “I don’t know what to say. I’m so embarrassed. My sister hasn’t been herself lately.”

That stopped him in his tracks. “Why’s that?”

She grimaced, fiddling with the zipper on her hoodie. “She hates LA. She’d rather be back in Colorado, but no one will hire her because…” She lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know what else I can do.”

He felt bad for Chloe. She seemed to care a lot about her sister. He didn’t like to think how she’d feel once she learned the truth about Cat.

“She’s jealous of you. I saw it straight away,” his grandmother said.

“You did?” Chloe bit her bottom lip, then nodded. “I’ve suspected it myself, but I didn’t realize it was so obvious.”

“Sibling rivalry is a dangerous thing. Look at Goneril and Regan in King Lear.”

Sweet mother of God. What was she thinking? “Estelle, I—” Grayson began.

Chloe twisted the neckline of her hoodie. “What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?”

He frowned. “Who’s Baby Jane?”

“Bette Davis,” his grandmother said, then, at what he imagined was his blank look, she set her tea on the coffee table, put Fluffy on the floor, and stood. Placing one hand over her heart, she threw out the other one. “‘Sister, sister, oh so fair, why is…’”

“‘… there blood all over your hair,’” Chloe whispered.