“I’m wondering why you’d bother.”

“You know why I’d bother.”

“But I’m already aware of what’s under them, and no one else can see you. Aren’t they uncomfortable?”

“Not as uncomfortable as the alternative,” she said, dropping her hand.

He sighed as his gaze lowered. She got the impression he was assessing her body to see how it might’ve changed since the accident. She couldn’t discern any sexual interest, but it still made her self-conscious. Although no one could call her fat, she’d seen actresses ridiculed over five pounds.

“What?” she said, defensively.

“You’re going to get through this,” he replied. “With time.”

What he’d said was intended to be nice. She wanted to believe him. But the fact that she’d made the A-list, something very few people ever attained, only to have it ripped away from her before she could really run with it, was so heartbreaking she felt sick inside.

Sinking into the chair he’d offered her earlier, she put her head between her knees and squeezed her eyes closed. She knew this wasn’t the best way to reassure Seth Turner that he had nothing to worry about. But she had to stave off the anxiety and panic that was welling up, because having a nervous breakdown in front of him would be worse.

“Are you okay?” He rested a hand on her back. It was a light touch meant to show compassion and reassurance, but it felt as though his palm would burn a hole right through her sweater.

When she could, she jumped to her feet and cleared her throat. “I’m going to feed Kiki before we eat,” she announced as if nothing had happened.

“Can’t it wait?” He used the hand that still held his wineglass to gesture at the food. “Our dinner’s ready.”

“It’ll only take a minute. I’ll play with her later.”

He didn’t respond, and he didn’t try to stop her. Relieved for the chance to escape him, even if it was only for a few minutes, she fled the kitchen and let herself into the aviary, where she flattened herself to the wall that wasn’t made of glass and gulped in big lungfuls of air.

Damn it. This wasn’t how she’d planned for the evening to go. She’d wanted to walk in, play her part and leave successful, if not triumphant.

But Seth Turner wasn’t that easily fooled. He was intense, complicated. And she suspected he had a brilliant mind to go with his handsome face. The emotional depth of his art certainly seemed to support it. The perception required to create what he had created showed he wasn’t one to accept anything at face value.

She couldn’t make him believe she was okay—even though she wanted to.

Maybe she’d lost her acting ability, too.