“Sorry.” I forced a smile. I had to keep on his good side. There was always a temptation with assistants, even loyal ones, to sell you out to a tabloid. One juicy tidbit could garner a small fortune. Many confidentiality agreements had gone through the shredder for a price. “I’ll try to do better,” I told him.

He heaved his narrow shoulders and with a martyr’s sigh, his eyes drifted back to the cappuccino man. Poor Scotty. He didn’t stand a chance.

“Okay, okay,” I said, benevolently “Go get ‘em, tiger. I’ll be in makeup if you need me.”

He flashed his recently whitened teeth and trotted off in the direction of the coffee cart.

With the cappuccino kicking in, my mood began to lighten. I strolled over to the makeup trailer, climbed the rattling metal stairs, and knocked.

“Easy!” a woman’s voice yelled from inside. “You’re rocking the boat!”

“Sorreee,” I called out, opening the door.

He sat shirtless facing the mirror, eyes closed, while the makeup lady applied foundation. I checked him over: killer body, thick, curly black hair, thick eyebrows, an earthy skin tone.

“Is that Jackie?” he drawled, catching me off guard. His eyes were still shut. His hairdresser moved in with a comb and spritzer bottle.

“Uh, yeah. Hi, there.” I stepped forward and the trailer lurched. The hair lady gave me a stern look.

“Whoops, sorry.”

My leading man opened his eyes and swiveled to face me.

“Hi, Jackie Gold.”

His eyes were the color of the sea, aquamarine, ringed with a band of green. I could swear I had seen those eyes before. And those lips, full but masculine, supple and chiseled. He smiled and suddenly I felt incredibly nervous, adolescent, and fearful that he could see the level of attraction I felt for him, positive he couldn’t possibly feel the same. He reached out and as we shook hands, chills slithered down the back of my neck, my knees went soft, and my heart beat like Koda drums.

He grinned. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

“Remember you?” The drums stopped beating and the Rolodex started spinning as I reached into the banks of my foggy memory for a clue.

“Um, oh God you do look familiar.”

His laugh filled the trailer, deep and sugary. “We met a few years ago on that Alex Harvey picture. I was his stand-in. I mighta’ looked different. Y’know, buzz cut and all.”

My mouth dropped open. “Barney?”

“It’s Brett now. Brett Haney. I took your advice and changed it. I hope you like it better.”

“Uh-huh.” I needed a cigarette. I started to fish one out of my purse when I remembered he didn’t like smoking. I pulled out some mints instead. “Um...Altoid?” I proffered.