Chapter 1 

Don’t worry if you don’t hear from me for awhile, Cat.  I’m going to New York.  I’ll talk to you when I get back.  Bobby. 

Once again, Cat Simmons reread the brief note her brother had left in her mailbox.  A deep sigh escaped her.  She didn’t know what else to do to help him deal with their mother’s death or the events that took place prior to it.

“Rereading it over and over again will not make it go away, Cat,” her best friend Jan said from behind her.

Pushing the note into the pocket of her jumpsuit, Cat pivoted around to face Jan.  A frown settled on her walnut-brown face.  “I know.  I’ve been thinking, though.  I want to hire an investigator to help Bobby.  He’s so obsessed with finding this…this fictitious biological father that nothing I say seems to penetrate.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want to validate his crazy notion that your mother had…”  Jan bit her bottom lip, a little uncertain about broaching the sensitive subject.

“Just say it, Jan.  That my mother had cheated on my father, and that Bobby was the result of that affair.  No, I don’t want to.  But Bobby believes it’s true.  He’s hurting, Jan, refuses to discuss things with Dad or Kenny.  I’m all he has.”  Cat massaged her temple and took a deep, calming breath.  She couldn’t afford to be distracted or worked up over this, not when she was about to perform a stunt.  Most stunts needed total concentration and precision.  Thinking about her personal problems before or during a performance could only lead to disaster.  Still, she couldn’t help worrying about her little brother.  “If I can’t convince him to stop this madness, the least I can do is help him.  As soon as I’m done here, I’m going to search the yellow pages for a private investigator.”  She picked up her Neumann’s skydiving gloves from the dresser, slipped them on, and adjusted the straps.  “What do you think?”

“Sounds like a great idea,” Jan said.  “Count me in.”  Cat frowned at her.  “Quit scowling at me.  That boy is like a brother to me, okay?  Besides, private investigators don’t come cheap.  So count me in.”

Emotions blocked Cat’s throat.  Friends like Jan were hard to find.  Jan was one of the few African-American actresses with a lead role in a hit T.V. series.  They’d met at a performing art camp at UCLA years ago and had become fast friends.  Nevertheless, Cat couldn’t allow Jan to pay for something that didn’t concern her family.  “Thanks, Jan, but I should be able to take care of it.”

“Sure?” 

Cat nodded. 

“Okay.  But know that I’ve got your back covered if things get a little tight.”  Jan opened a bag of cheese doodles and pushed one into her mouth.  

“I know.”  Cat’s eyes followed Jan’s hand as it dipped into the bag and pulled out another doodle.  “How can you eat that stuff?”

Jan shrugged her thin shoulders.  “Easily.  Just pop one in my mouth, munch, and swallow.  Speaking of eating, are you coming to my dinner party tomorrow night?  I have a yummy date for you.”

Cat rolled her eyes.  “I told you, woman, I’m through dating.  No more handsome men with wicked smiles or cute butts.  No more dealing with cocky attitudes or excusing bad habits.”

Jan pointed an orange-stained finger at Cat.  “Cute butts, Cat?  Come on, you are a sucker for a guy with a firm behind, and you know it.” 

“I was.  I’m cured.”  Her ex-boyfriend, Rick, had made sure of that.  “Did I tell you Rick used my credit card without my knowledge?  And do you know why I didn’t see that coming?  His cute butt got in the way, that’s why.”  And because she’d allowed her feelings to get involved, she added silently.

“It’s been six months, Cat, let it go.  Cancel your credit cards and let your lawyer deal with Rick.”

“Already did.”

“Well, then, that’s that.  Now about tomorrow’s dinner…  If you don’t make it, sweetie, I’ll have an unpaired male on my hands, a hostess’s nightmare.”  Jan popped another doodle into her mouth, then rolled the bag and dropped it on the table.  She turned her famous hazel eyes on Cat.  “Please, Cat.  Please.  I really, really need you.”

Cat checked the zippers on her red jumpsuit and then reached for her goggles.  “Okay.  But you’ll owe me big time for this, Janelle Masters.” 

“Oh, thank you.”  Jan blew her a kiss and jumped to her feet. 

“Bailing you out should be added to my things-not-to-do list.” 

Jan merely grinned at her words. 

“So tell me more about this blind date you’re saddling me with.  What does he do?”

 “Works in a bank,” Jan answered as she padded to the fridge to get bottled water.  She closed the door with her hip and then she leaned against it.

“Good.  That means he’s conservative, no braided or dreadlocked hair.” 

Jan rolled her eyes. 

“I’m through with men who thumb their noses at society,” Cat added.

“Another one of your rules?”

“You’ve got it.  What else can you tell me about him?”

“He went to school with my man, so he’s decent.”

Cat snickered.  “FYI, Miss Movie Star, Doug is as bad-ass as they come.  Don’t use him as a yardstick.”  She pushed the goggles up in her hair.  She was reaching for her helmet when a masterful purr of a V-twin engine sounded outside the trailer.  When Jan looked out the window, Cat asked, “Is that him out there?”

“Doug?  Are you kidding?  My man knows I can’t abide motorbikes.  But you’d better take a long, hard look, girl, because if you’re serious about all those rules you keep spouting, you’re about to miss out.”

“Why?  Who is it?” Cat asked as she approached the window.

“The kind of bad boy you’ve sworn to steer clear of.”

Cat moved forward to take a look at what had her friend grinning like a well-fed cat. 

My, oh my, what a beauty, Cat sighed as her eyes followed the Harley-Davidson with its two-tone sterling silver and vivid black lines.  What she wouldn’t give to ride that, she mused longingly.

Then her eyes moved to the owner of the bike as he switched off the engine and stood up.  Watching him dismount sent a thrill through her that had nothing to do with the bike.  Now riding that, Cat mused, would be more exciting and dangerous than her most daring stunt. 

He was big.  All she could see was his masculine back, powerful thighs molded by black jeans, scruffy boots and a leather jacket that had seen better days.  Jet black, curly hair fell over his broad shoulders.  Wonder how it would feel to run fingers through it? Cat mused. 

As if to tease her already heightened senses, the man turned and gave her a side profile.  Rich chocolate skin, proud bearing, strong nose, and a two-day shadow, she noted.  If only she could see the rest of his face.  Still, the sigh that escaped her lips was close to a purr.

“Quit licking your lips, Catherine.  Go out there and prove me wrong.”

Cat’s head snapped toward her friend as a feeling close to panic washed over her.  That man was too much for her to test her theory on.  She stalled.  “Prove what?”

“That you’re immune to that gorgeous hunk.  Damn, he makes me want to crawl into his pants.”

Me too, Cat added silently.  Who was he?  An actor? 

A knock on the trailer door interrupted her musing.  One of the makeup artists, Iryna Chekhov, stepped inside the trailer when Jan bid her to come in.  “Sorry to interrupt, Jan.  Jed Sutton needs Cat now.  The plane will be taking off in ten minutes.”

“Thanks, Iryna.  I’m right behind you.” 

As if that were her cue, Iryna stepped down from the trailer and disappeared. 

“I’ve got to go, Jan.  No time for testing theories.”

“Chicken.”  Jan picked her car keys up from the table and threw them to her.  “Take care of my baby, sweetie.  Drop it off at my place tomorrow night when you come to dinner.”

Cat caught the keys and nodded.  They’d used Jan’s car to get to the filming location, but since Doug was picking Jan up, she had offered to drive her car back to Los Angeles.  As she moved toward the door, the biker outside intruded on her thoughts. 

No man was going to turn her into a coward, Cat decided, no matter how gorgeous he looked.  “Okay, Jan.  Watch and weep.  I’m going out there to have a normal conversation with that handsome…renegade.” 

Jan guffawed. 

“Then I’m going to leave without a backward glance,” Cat added.

“I’ll be watching.  Make sure you come back in one piece, you hear.”

Cat rolled her eyes.  “Please.  He’s just a man.”

“I meant the skydiving, silly.  See, he’s already making you forget what we’re doing here.  Look at me, sweetie.  We are at Edwards Air Force Base jump field to film a movie.”  Jan spaced her words as if she were talking to a confused person, and she added sign language for effect.  “You are about to hurtle to earth at a death-defying speed, doubling for moi, your best friend.”

“Very funny.”  Cat picked up her helmet and opened the trailer door.

“Jokes aside, Cat, be careful.”

Jan always wished her good luck whenever she was about to do a stunt, Cat thought with a smile.  They were tight like that.  “Will do,” Cat answered.  Then she left the trailer. 

***

Taj Taylor stared with amazement at the people scurrying about the jump field.  Were all location film sites this chaotic?  How the hell was he going to locate the producer, Dorian McCarthy?

“Nice ride,” a voice said from behind him.

His head snapped toward the soft, feminine voice.  A stunning woman in a red skydiving suit was standing near the entrance of a trailer, her eyes trained on his bike.  As he took in her exotic brown face— the long, graceful neck, the delicately molded short nose, the sensually lush lips, and the high cheekbones—his stomach lurched, as if he were about to take a plunge off an endless precipice.  Ignoring the feeling, he murmured, “Thank you.”

Cat stepped closer to the bike.  “A 1340 Evolution engine?”

Very intriguing, Taj mused.  He hadn’t met that many women who were interested in motorbikes, let alone able to identify a particular engine.  “A modified 1340.”

“Impressive.  Recorded maximum performance yet?”

She had him totally enthralled now.  Who was she?  “A maximum of 165 horsepower.  You obviously know your motorbikes.”

 “I’ve ridden some, modified a few.  Yours is a real beauty.”

Why didn’t she look at him?  His bike was getting all her attention, darn it.  “Power and beauty are an irresistible combination.  I’m a sucker for both.”

She flashed a smile his way.  “Obviously.  How does it handle long distance?” 

Still reeling from the effect of her smile, Taj said the first thing that popped into his head.  “Purrs like a satiated lover.”   Her head snapped toward him, and their eyes met.  Hers were dark and mysterious.  They seemed to sear right through him to his very soul.  When her eyebrows shot up, he realized what he’d said.  “Handle her with care, and she’ll give you the best ride of your life.”  Damn, that didn’t come out well either.

Taj was sure the woman would comment on his sexist remarks, but all she did was shift her slender body until she was facing him.  Then she proceeded to study him.  A laconic smile passed her lips as she took in his two-day stubble.  Made him wish he’d shaved before driving out to see McCarthy.  His shoulder-length curly hair received a frown before her eyes ran down his frame.  For once, he was happy he hit the gym regularly.

When she said, “Nice chatting with you,” and sashayed past him, Taj didn’t say anything.  Couldn’t say anything was more like it.  He was still trying to find his balance.

His gaze followed her delectable form.  He hoped, no, prayed she would look back.  Come on, baby, just once, he urged silently.  She never looked back. 

Taj shook his head to clear it.  He didn’t know what had just happened, but he was now more interested in what McCarthy wanted from him than before.  He hadn’t been too keen on taking the assignment, but if it meant knowing the identity of that exquisite creature, he would make time.

“Excuse me?” A man wearing a security badge interrupted his musing.  “This area is off-limits, sir.”

Taj handed him his card.  “I’m here to see Dorian McCarthy.”

The guard studied the card.  “You need to talk to Mr. Gunter, the unit manager.  No one sees McCarthy without going through him.”

He’d made the necessary adjustments in his schedule for this detour, Taj reflected, and the last thing he needed was to be given the runaround.  On the other hand, he couldn’t take out his frustrations on a guy following orders.  “Okay, my friend, take me to Mr. Gunter.”

“They’re actually all together over there.”  The guard pointed at a group of four men and a woman standing at the edge of the field.

“Which one is McCarthy?”

“Red hair and goatee, hard to miss,” the guard answered.

Squinting against the glaring sun, Taj focused his gaze on the group.  As the guard had said, it was hard not to notice Dorian McCarthy.  He was dressed in white pants and white shirt, and had an unruly mop of red hair.  A narrow moustache sat above his lips.  He was in his mid-fifties, Taj recalled from the background information he’d gotten over the Internet, although looking at him you’d never guess it.  He was of slight built and in pretty good shape. 

McCarthy had become a household name in the eighties when he’d produced one action-packed blockbuster after another.  Then he’d made the fatal error of switching to romantic comedies.  Bad reviews and box office disasters had followed.  As if that were merely a prelude to worse times, he’d gotten involved in a scandalous affair with an aspiring actress and ended up in court, fighting for his reputation and his children.  His ex-wife, a daughter of a well-known Hollywood mogul, had made sure that he paid.  By the time the messy divorce was over, Dorian had become a pariah in Hollywood. 

“Wait here, Mr. Taylor.”  The guard went directly to a gangly man in a Dodgers baseball cap, and handed him Taj’s card.  After a brief consultation, the man spoke to McCarthy, who looked up. 

“Ah, Mr. Taylor, I’ve been expecting you.”  McCarthy excused himself from his colleagues, and drew Taj aside.  “I’m happy you made it.”  He paused to study Taj with pursed lips and a thoughtful expression.  “Ever thought of being in the movies, Mr. Taylor?”

Taj’s eyebrows shot up.  “Not really.”

“I was told that you’re a former FBI agent.  Ever consulted for a movie company?”

Taj studied the older man and wondered where the interrogation was headed.  “No.  Look, Mr. McCarthy, from the message you left with my secretary, I had the impression that you desperately needed my expertise.”

McCarthy nodded his head.  “But I do, Mr. Taylor.  I need a consultant, someone who can give me the inside info on how the Bureau profiles criminals, how a killer’s mind works.”

Taj’s heart sank at McCarthy’s words.  This was the very reason he had left the Bureau.  He’d gotten tired of delving into the twisted minds of criminals.  Taj shook his head.  “Mr. McCarthy, I’ve got to be honest with you.  I stopped profiling criminals a long time ago.”

“But I bet you haven’t forgotten the training.  I know what you’re thinking,” the producer said, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.  “It’s just a movie, right?  Actors pretending to be agents, nothing like the real thing.  Well, Mr. Taylor, we want it to be as close to the real thing as possible.  With your help, we can do it.  I want the audiences spooked when they watch the antics of the psycho in the The Sentinel and rooting for my lead actress and her supporting actor, and I can’t do it without you, Mr. Taylor.”

Taj’s brows furrowed.  The last thing he wanted to revisit was his FBI days.  But at the same time, there was the exquisite woman he’d met earlier.  “What happened to the consultant you had before.  I assume you hired one before you started filming.”

McCarthy rolled on his heels and gave Taj a wry smile.  “Oh, yes, we had one.  A friend recommended him, and I went along because he had the credentials.  He turned out to be unreliable, irresponsible, and a difficult man to work with.  I need your help, Mr. Taylor.  Jackie Wilson told me you were the best there is.”

Taj smiled.  Jackie Wilson was a former client of his, an aging African-American diva who’d conquered Broadway before coming to Hollywood.  “I see,” was all he said.

“She said I could count on you to see us through this fiasco.  Of course,” McCarthy hastened to add, “we’ll work around your schedule and compensate you for any jobs you could be working on in the next two weeks.”

“That won’t be necessary, Mr. McCarthy.  My people can handle things without me.” 

McCarthy perked up.  “Do I take it that you’re coming aboard?”

Taj smiled at his reaction.  “Yes.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!”  He reached for Taj’s hand and pumped it vigorously.  We’re going to have a ball making…oh, excuse me.  I need to answer this.”  He raised the receiver end of the walkie-talkie to his ear.  “Yes?  Go ahead.  Give him whatever he wants…two extra parachutes if it makes him happy.” 

Dorian turned to whisper to Taj, “I got Pierce Quinn as my lead actor.  Lots of talent there.  I tell you, he’s the next Colin Farrell.  Yes?” he murmured into the mouthpiece.  “Have Cat talk to him.  She already did?  Okay, I’ll be there.”  Dorian turned to Taj, “I’ve got to go.  We need to go with the first take on this.  Thanks for joining us, Mr. Taylor.”

Taj nodded curtly.  “I have a quick question, Mr. McCarthy.”

“Shoot.”

“Is the lead actress doing the stunts with Pierce Quinn?”

“Janelle Masters doesn’t do her own stunts, my friend.  The woman in red is just a double, a stuntwoman by the name of Cat Simmons.  You’ll meet them all at the studio on Monday.”  They shook hands.  “Listen, I appreciate your going out of your way today, Mr. Taylor.  I’ll stop by your offices later and finalize everything.”

Taj watched the producer dash across the field to join the people around the plane.  He could see the figure in red.  She was in a deep discussion with another man.  Cat Simmons, stuntwoman.

Just a double wasn’t the expression he’d use to describe Cat.  In fact, he had known there was something special about her the moment he’d laid eyes on her, Taj reflected as he headed back to his bike.  Cat was no one’s double.  She was special.  Even her name, Cat, was unique. 

Instead of starting his bike and leaving, Taj settled on it and watched the scene unfold on the field before him.  Someone made an announcement, and everyone cleared the field.  The plane took off and steadily gained altitude.  He could feel the tension and the excitement in the observers.  He too felt a tinge of anticipation at the thought of seeing Cat Simmons in action.