Free Harvest Moon by Rochelle Alers

was wrong. She would not walk away from her acting career. Not until she tired of it. And she hoped she wouldn’t tire of it until she was an old, old woman.
    Oscar Spencer kept his promise. He became her surrogate father and protector. Regina continued to rent and share her apartment with the other actress. However, in the coming weeks she found herself spending more and more time at the director’s house. They established a habit of sharing dinner—every night. There were times when he sent her home with his driver, butmany more when she slept over in the bedroom where she had spent the night following her drugging episode at Harold Jordan’s house.
    She hadn’t heard from or seen Harold since that night, but realized that in less than a week she would be forced to come face-to-face with the man who had maliciously and methodically planned to rape her. She would attend the Academy Awards ceremony with Oscar, but regardless of the outcome she had made a decision not to attend any of the post-awards parties.
    She sat at the table in the dining area at her apartment, studying the script her agent had delivered to her the day before. Vertical lines appeared between her eyes as she shook her head. It had taken only one reading for her to reach a decision. She could not consider the leading role.
    The soft chiming of the telephone startled her, and she reached for the cordless phone lying inches away on the table. Pressing a button, she said softly, “Hello.”
    “How do you like it?”
    She recognized her agent’s gravelly voice immediately. “I like it, but I can’t consider it.”
    “Why?”
    “You know I won’t take my clothes off.”
    A long, lingering sigh of frustration came through the receiver. “Regina—Baby Doll—don’t do this to me. You know you’re perfect for the part.”
    Her frown deepened. “Simon, don’t fight with me. You know I don’t do nude scenes.”
    “You’re a big girl now, Baby Doll. By the time filming begins you’ll be eighteen and—”
    “It wouldn’t matter whether I was eighteen or eighty,” she interrupted. “I’m not going to do nude scenes.”
    Simon Garwood smothered a savage curse under his breath. “What do you want me to do?”
    “Tell them to take out the nude scenes and I’ll consider it.”
    “What if I tell them to use a body double?”
    Regina heard a distinctive beep come through the wire. “Hold on, Simon. I have another call.”
    As soon as she depressed the button she heard the excited babble of raised male and female voices. “Hello?”
    “Oh, my goodness—”
    Her pulse quickened as she heard Oscar’s housekeeper’s trembling voice. “What’s the matter, Miss Brock?”
    “Mr. Spencer just took sick. The emergency medical people are here and…”
    Closing her eyes, she tightened her grip on the telephone. “Is he alive?”
    “I think so. But he’s so still.”
    Even though she was sitting, Regina felt her knees shaking uncontrollably. “Where are they taking him?”
    Sobbing, Miss Brock gave her the information, and a minute later she told Simon she would get back to him, then called the car service to pick her up.
    She did not remember changing into a pair of faded jeans, oversize T-shirt, and a pair of running shoes. At the last moment she braided her flowing hair into a single plait and covered it with a navy-blue baseball cap. It was only when she was seated in the back of the late model Ford sedan that she pulled a pair of sunglasses from her purse and slipped them on. When she strode through the doors of the small, private Los Angeles hospital she was unrecognizable as the actress who had been nominated for her role in
Silent Witness
.
    She asked the clerk at the admitting desk for Oscar Spencer’s condition, lying smoothly when she introduced herself as his granddaughter. The clerk told her she had to wait until the admitting doctor completed his examination.
    Regina lost track of time as she sat waiting on a nearby chair. She