She couldn’t work out what she should do next. She’d called him in a moment of desperation, but she knew it was only temporary.

“Where’s my phone? I’ll call a cab.”

“You’re not calling a cab. You’re not going anywhere until you’ve had a shower, eaten something and given proper thought to what you want to do. Maybe it’s time to stop running.”

“What do you mean?”

“You were running when you called me last night,” he said. “Running when you went to Milly. It seems to me it would be a nice change for you to start living your life on your own terms. Leave somewhere because you want to rather than because you feel you have to. There’s no reason for you to rush off. No one knows you’re here, not even Milly.”

The mention of Milly’s name had the tears flowing again.

“She is never going to forgive me. I’ve ruined the best and only real relationship in my life.”

“Hey, enough.” He sat down on the edge of the bed. “You have to stop this. We’re going to figure it all out, I promise.”

She sniffed. “I still don’t know why you’re helping me.”

“You’re looking for an ulterior motive, and after everything you said to me last night I understand why. Everyone in your life wants something from you, don’t they?” His voice was gentle. “Must be impossible to filter out what’s real. So let’s address this.”

“Address what?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to examine her life too closely right now.

“Address why people try and get close to you. You listed it for me at one point last night. Number one was your influence in the industry—that’s of no use to me at all. Number two was wealth.” He counted them off on his fingers. “I am fortunate enough to be financially independent and I enjoy the life I’ve made for myself, so I’m not interested in your money. What else was there? Oh, your looks.” He studied her for a moment, and a faint smile touched his mouth. “You look truly terrible, Wendy, and I’m still sitting here so I think we can strike that out as a possible reason I’m sticking around.”

She scraped her fingers through her hair, trying to shape it. “I look terrible?”

“You do. But I don’t care. It’s good to know that even a movie star can get red eyes when they cry. And as we’re being brutally honest with each other—”

“You’re the one being brutally honest,” she muttered. “No one has ever told me I look terrible before. But go on—don’t hold back. What else do you have to tell me?”