“I . . . uh . . . Well, you see, sir, it’s like this. The writer sent over new pages for Mr. Peterson’s Fatally Yours project. He wants them printed on blue paper and incorporated into the script pronto. However, Harmony says she forgot to replenish the supplies and sent me over here to get some.” Figures. Paul’s new secretary, Harmony, was another instance of Paul letting his libido do his hiring. It seemed, where Peterson was concerned, bra size figured more prominently than brains.

Ring . . . Ring . . .

“Where’s Lois?”

“Haven’t seen her. Don’t think she’s in today,” the harried intern replied. There was a slight sheen of sweat beading on his forehead and upper lip. “Look, I’m so sorry for the inconvenience, sir, but do you happen to know where she keeps the blue paper—”

“Wait a minute. Back up. Lois didn’t . . . show up?” In the fourteen years Lois Caplan had worked for him, she had never missed a day. “Did she email or call?”

The intern blanched, started backing toward the door. “I . . . I wouldn’t know.” Mick heard a peal of feminine laughter drift in from the hall, a deep baritone rumble of a laugh that could only belong to one man. A second later Bradley Reed, in all his mega-movie-star glory, ambled in with his arm slung over his co-star Lauren Taylor’s shoulders. Mick hoped for Lauren’s sake that it was just Bradley being Bradley and didn’t point to a more intimate relationship. Bradley was gold at the box office but a narcissistic dickhead off-screen: self-involved, temperamental, and very married.

“Hey, Mick.” Bradley swaggered over and clapped him on the shoulder as if they were buddies. “Sorry we missed your party. Heard it was a wild one.”

“We were planning on coming,” Lauren said apologetically, sliding her long blond hair away from her face. Her English accent was more pronounced now that the cameras were no longer rolling.

“Oh, we were coming, babe.” Bradley wiggled his eyebrows at Mick over the top of Lauren’s head. “That’s why we didn’t show up, if you get my drift.”

A blue-assed baboon could get his drift. Mick managed not to roll his eyes. Barely.

A flush of color rose in Lauren’s face. She batted at Bradley. “That’s private.”

Ring . . . Ring . . .

Grateful for the distraction, Mick reached for the phone. “Gotta get this. Lois is out. Catch you guys later.” Luckily, they took the hint and headed through the connecting door into Peterson’s office. Mick exhaled, sank into Lois’s chair, and brought the receiver to his ear. “Yes?”

“Hello, Mr. Talford, please.”

“Speaking.”

“This is Ruth Parker. I’m a nurse at St. Joseph’s Hospital. Lois Caplan asked me to give you a call.”

*   *   *