Free The Wedding Audition by Catherine Mann, Joanne Rock

but they were easier to squash. “I start my day early. I’m guessing you don’t, diva girl?”
    “Filming begins before sunup,” she said with a defensive tone, sliding down to sit at the base of the tree. “Is that all natural pesticide?”
    She squinted up at the plain white spray bottle he held.
    “This concoction is my trade secret. I make it myself.” He didn’t like thinking they had anything in common—whether it was rising at dawn or an interest in organic farming. “I’ll bet someone else does your hair and makeup, chooses your clothes. Brings you breakfast.”
    “A whole crew of people, actually.” Her head thudding back against the trunk, she eyed his work boots. “I’ve learned to nap in the stylist’s chair and skip the food.”
    “Didn’t your mom tell you breakfast is the most important meal of the day?”
    Her jaw set. “My mother told me every meal of the day added pounds in addition to the ten added by the camera.”
    “That’s too bad,” he said, giving her a sidelong glance, “because you could certainly use at least ten or fifteen more.”
    She gazed back at him, shock evident on her face. Her brows arched. “Did you just insult me?”
    “Only if you care what I think about the way you look.” And he let himself look long and hard on the stretch of her legs, those legs he’d fantasized about until he’d given up sleep altogether.
    Bagel sat beside her, sniffing in the grass.
    She hitched a hand on her hip. “You’re fishing for a reaction.”
    “Maybe,” he said with a nonchalant shrug. He was fishing. She was intriguing for a runaway minor celebrity. Different than anyone else he’d met. And although their circumstances were worlds apart, they were both forced into isolation.
    “Why would you want to push for a reaction from me? I thought you didn’t even like me.”
    “That has nothing to do with lust,” he said evenly.
    Truthfully.
    The air crackled so hot between them he could swear the dew steamed right off the grass.
    She shot to her feet, swiping her wrist across her mouth as she finished chewing. “Wow, uhm,” she muttered, dusting the dirt off her bottom, “this conversation got uncomfortable fast. In case you don’t remember, I was engaged yesterday.”
    “And today,” he said, closing his hand around the trunk as he resisted the urge to dust in the exact same space, “you’re not. You don’t appear heartbroken to me.”
    Annamae’s cheeks burned. Good, he thought. So she could be riled.
    She scooped her purse off the ground. “I need to see my grandmother.”
    The sun tucked behind a cloud. “Be careful out there, Red. I hear too many stories of people getting into wrecks racing away from their fans.”
    “I always drive safely, even when I’m being followed.” She hitched her bag over her shoulder and glanced back at him. “I’ve learned to go safely to the nearest police station.”
    He watched the sway of her hips as she strode toward her car and he mumbled, “Good plan.”
    And one that would only work until the day a car pulled in front of her, beside her, and tailgated her. He had seen it happen in chases when he was on the force. Miami had its own share of celebrity mishaps.
    She was too innocent, damn it, and he couldn’t let her go out there alone.
    Decision made, Wynn swung down out of the tree and landed surefooted on the ground. She might be good at watching for people who tailed her.
    But she’d never been followed by him .
    *
    Annamae locked her red Beetle and glanced around the area. The parking lot was still, undisturbed. There was no movement, except for a dull breeze that set the grass dancing. No one had followed her. She loosed a sigh of relief as she jogged along the sidewalk toward the path to the garden. She was running late after her talk with Heath. She could still feel the heat of his eyes as he’d watched her.
    Wanted her.
    A want she couldn’t help feeling in return.
    Just a healthy, normal attraction.