Blue took in the mature trees and overgrown yard, the barn, fields, and pastures. She couldn’t imagine a more unlikely spot for a big-city celebrity like Dean. She watched him head toward the barn with the easy, loping grace of a man at home in his body, and then she returned her attention to the house.

She wished she could have come here under different circumstances so she could enjoy this place, but the farm’s isolation made her situation more difficult. Maybe she could get hired by one of the crews working on the house. Or she’d find something in the nearby town, although it was barely a dot on the map. Still, she only needed a few hundred dollars. Once she had that, she’d set out for Nashville, rent a cheap room, print up new flyers, and start all over again. The trick was getting Dean to let her stay here rent free while she put her life back together.

She had no illusions about why he’d brought her to the farm. By not tearing off her clothes for him that first night, she’d turned herself into a challenge—a challenge he’d forget about the instant one of the local southern beauties caught his eye. That meant she’d needed to find another way to make herself useful to him.

Just then, the front door opened and one of the most amazing creatures Blue had ever seen stepped out. Amazon tall and slender, she had a bold, square face and long, uneven blades of poker-straight, streaky blond hair. Blue remembered photos she’d seen of the great fashion models of the past, women of the sixties and seventies like Verushka, Jean Shrimpton, and Fleur Savagar. This woman had that same presence. Smoky blue eyes peered out from a dramatic square-jawed face, almost masculine in its strength. As the woman reached the front step, Blue saw a faint set of lines bracketing that wide, sensuous mouth and realized she wasn’t as young as she’d first thought, maybe in her early forties.

Narrow jeans perched on bladed hip bones. The strategically placed rips at the thighs and knees hadn’t been put there by wear, but by a designer’s calculated eye. Metallic threads edged the suede shoulder straps of her crocheted, cantaloupe-colored camisole. Copper leather blossoms bloomed on the toes of her slides. Her look was both boho funky and chic. Was she a model? An actress? Probably one of Dean’s girlfriends. With such dramatic beauty, a few years’ age difference hardly signified. Although Blue didn’t care about fashion, she was suddenly conscious of her own shapeless jeans, baggy T-shirt, and unkempt hair, which drastically needed a decent cut.

The woman took in the Vanquish, and her wide, crimson-slashed mouth curved in a smile. “Lost?”

Blue bought a little time. “Well…I know where I am geographically, but, frankly, my life’s kind of a mess right now.”