High Risk.

by JLee Meyer.

Acknowledgements.

Sh.e.l.ley Thrasher, our third editing venture. Thank you so much for your time, keen eye, and gentle corrections. As always, much appreciated.

Stacia Seaman, what would we do without you?

Sister and brother authors, you are a delight and inspiration.

Lisa Girolami, you directed me toward some research sites that were most helpful. Hope I did it right.

The staff and volunteers of BSB, you are awesome.

Sheri, Most Venerable Cover Designer, thank you yet again.

Radclyffe, thank you for the opportunity to learn from and be part of such an outstanding group of individuals.

Cheryl, thank you for your feedback and ideas. You know how much I appreciate it.

To the readers, you are why we keep writing. Thank you for your support.

Dedication.

Faith is a knowledge within the heart, beyond the reach of proof.

-Kahlil Gibran.

For Cheryl-My faith, my heart, my proof.

Prologue.

"What are you doing here? I'm calling security."

Dasher Pate squeezed her eyes shut. It had been only a matter of time before Joe Alder showed up to once again shred the fabric of her life. She released the hand she'd been holding, the hand she'd been longing to hold for what seemed like forever, and stood to face him. The machines and tubes attached to Kate Hoffman remained impa.s.sive, although Dasher thought the beep on the heart monitor sped up when their connection was severed. Wishful thinking.

"I just stopped by to see how she was." Why was she kowtowing to this man? She wasn't doing anything wrong. "I heard she had an accident on the set. She's asleep, doesn't even know I'm here."

Alder, a short, squat man in his forties, clenched his ever-present unlit cigar in his teeth. "She never will, either. Who let you in?" His small, almost black eyes glittered like marbles as he scanned the area, probably looking for someone to fire. He always appeared sweaty to Dasher, like he was one cheeseburger away from a heart attack.

"No one. I simply walked in. Don't worry, Joe. I'm not here trying to steal your biggest client. I just...needed to see she was okay. I'll leave."

"Isn't your mother in this hospital? What is it this time, too many Prozac combined with a fifth of vodka?" Tobacco-stained teeth were visible around the d.a.m.ned cigar, his enjoyment of Dasher's pain evident.

"My mother is none of your business. I said I was leaving. Maybe you should worry about letting Ms. Hoffman try such dangerous stunts. She's lucky she only tore up her knee and got a concussion."

That must have been the final straw, because Joe was chomping so fast on the cigar it looked like he was getting ready to either swallow it or spit it at her. "Get your bulld.y.k.e a.s.s out of this room. She's my client and I tell her what's good for her career. I don't need your f.u.c.king opinion. You'll never get her away from me, so I'd advise you to stop trying."

Shaking her head, Dasher stared at Alder. "What's the point of even trying to talk to you?" She couldn't believe this poor excuse for a human being was Kate Hoffman's agent. What kind of lies did he tell Kate to get her to suddenly renege on their promise and sign with him? She'd probably never know.

She left the room and searched the hall for the elevator. Her mother would need her to be there when she woke up. Her dad refused to leave his set, so here she was again, right in the middle.

Her childhood had prepared her perfectly to be the middleperson. No wonder she chose to be a talent agent rather than a part of the stunt-work industry in which her father was hugely successful. She was so accustomed to placating and maneuvering to get peace and quiet that it was second nature for her to soothe egos and manipulate outcomes to get the best for her clients. To survive.

She'd been on her way to the hospital when she heard the news that Kate had been injured and brought to the same location. Breaking every traffic law to get there, she had to check on Kate. She'd had three whole minutes with her before Alder showed up.

Five years and she still had to do it. Had to worry about Kate. The woman had signed with someone else, was straight, and would rarely even look at her if they were at the same function, but Dasher was learning that some things didn't change.

Evidently her feelings for Kate Hoffman were in that category.

Chapter One.

"Oh, no. No, no, no." Kate watched with irritation as a white stretch limousine pulled to a stop in front of the Hotel Liaison. That meant her limo would be behind them, second. What if whoever was in there was more famous? What if no one paid attention to her when she exited her car? This was a potential disaster.

"Driver, please take me to Neiman Marcus on Union Square. I have to pick up something I forgot to pack."

"Yes, ma'am. If you want, I can get it for you." The woman deftly maneuvered around the parked limousine and continued to the department store, stopped in front, and sprinted to open Kate's door.

"Thank you. I'll only be a few minutes." Long enough to avoid running into the occupants of that d.a.m.ned limo and pick up a few guaranteed fans for my arrival. She'd have to have a word with Laurel about warning her when another celebrity might be arriving.

By the time her car glided to the front of the hotel, the white limo was gone and she was confident that she would be suitably surrounded by fans when she got out. She'd been spotted at Neiman's and had mentioned where she'd be staying. Good publicity for Hotel Liaison, too. The stir would probably thrill Laurel, and Kate really did need the cashmere cardigan she'd just bought, since she'd forgotten her favorite sweater. San Francisco was usually much cooler than Los Angeles, and the trade on jackets, sweatshirts, and sweaters for unaware tourists and even savvy visitors like her was brisk.

On cue, a small crowd of autograph seekers and curious onlookers, even a couple of men taking photos, appeared around her. Her liveried driver looked sharp opening the door and offering her hand for Kate to make a graceful exit, always a trick in a stretch limo. An elegant Vera w.a.n.g dress almost the color of her unusual green eyes, with a hint of her generous cleavage, helped rivet her admirers' attention. Thick blond hair worn past her shoulders and perfectly applied makeup enhanced the picture that fans worldwide drooled over. Wearing tall, strappy, s.e.xy heels that made her nudge six feet in height, she was larger than life. But that was the idea. However, no amount of fan approval would stop her feet from killing her. She hated those d.a.m.ned shoes.

Sometimes being famous was worth it and sometimes it sucked. Kate Hoffman ignored the ache in her knee and smiled luminously at the crowd of autograph seekers. She signed, stood beside them for photos, did not allow what she now suspected were the professional photographers to elbow in front of some of the shyer people, and then waved good-bye as she gingerly made her way to the hotel entrance.

The final three fans scuttled down the street laughing and shouting to each other about their good fortune. This was one of her favorite things to do, because most fans were so adoring and nice. They filled her life with pleasure. Although the photographers had been rude, they seemed to have backed off. Perhaps because the doorkeeper had put herself squarely between them and Kate.

She gave the imposing employee of the soon-to-be-open Hotel Liaison a small grin as she walked inside, trying not to favor her leg. Her sister Laurel was at the front desk standing behind a seated young woman who was earnestly studying the computer screen in front of her. The hotel had invited some guests to beta test its accommodations, and Kate was among them.

Actually, she'd been there a lot recently. Having injured her knee while shooting her most recent movie, she had endured the pain with ice packs and wraps in order to finish filming. Luckily, before the accident she'd completed most of the scenes that required running, escaping, and undressing.

Laurel insisted she take some time to regroup and rehab the knee in San Francisco, saying she could stay on the Elysium private floors and no one would bother her. Kate had already volunteered to be the official star power at the grand opening of Hotel Liaison in just four weeks' time. She was happy to a.s.sume that role for her sister and also for what the hotel represented to her. It had become a refuge.

The employee, a stunning young woman named Ember, tore herself from the screen and grinned at her in welcome. Here, Kate was just Laurel's sister. She was even becoming friends with Laurel's partner, Stefanie Beresford. Having stayed with them when they temporarily lived in Seraphina Drake's Pacific Heights mansion, she marveled at what a pleasure it was to get to know the women who had brought Hotel Liaison back to life. She'd never really had a lot of female friends while growing up and was realizing how much she had missed.

Helping Laurel plan for the opening, she made calls to get sponsors and had met such interesting people. These women didn't look alike and talk incessantly about their next plastic surgery, who was or should be in rehab, their diet and exercise program, or even who was sleeping with whom. They actually had something to say. It was a refreshing break from her world in LA.

Just as she was about to hug Laurel she heard a familiar commotion on the street. It sounded like someone else had spotted her or others had spread the word that she was in town. She winked at Laurel and composed her face into her star persona, then turned to see another famous figure emerge from a limousine that had just arrived. She was a.s.sisted by Dasher Pate.

Greta Sarnoff was an up-and-coming and quite gorgeous young actress whose career was currently skyrocketing. She'd done a few independent films that, Kate grudgingly had to admit, revealed a lot of talent. She'd signed with Dasher Pate as her agent and her future seemed bright, including the Oscar buzz that Kate had yet to enjoy.

Whirling to meet Laurel's gaze, Kate demanded, "Is she staying here?"

"She who?"

"Dasher Pate, of course." Who else would she be talking about?

Laurel frowned slightly and held up a finger while she strode to another monitor and quickly checked a screen. "Yes. And Greta Sarnoff is the guest of Dasher Pate." She glanced up with a warm smile and seemed surprised to see that Kate was not happy.

"What?"

Kate felt her face heat and her hands rise to her hips. "Dasher Pate is staying here? For the beta-testing part? How did she get an invitation? And what is she doing with that child?"

"Well, I-"

"She got here by invitation and that child is twenty-three, not that it's any of your business." The husky alto behind her could belong to none other than Dasher Pate. Kate could never forget that voice.

Whirling to meet the warm gray eyes that accompanied it, the ones with the flashes of blue in them, Kate forced a smile. "Dasher, what a surprise. I had no idea you knew my sister. What a coincidence."

Dasher studied Kate in a way that made her skin p.r.i.c.kle. She fought not to blush and cursed her fair complexion when her cheeks warmed. She knew blotchiness could not be far behind.

"Your sister? I haven't had that pleasure, but I've known Stefanie Beresford from the days when we worked for Beresford Hoteliers together. She invited me to help with the shakedown cruise of the hotel. Is there a problem?"

Laurel came to Kate's rescue by offering her hand to Dasher, introducing herself. "Stef mentioned that she'd invited a friend from her Beresford days. Thank you for coming and helping us out. I'm Laurel, Stef's partner, and Kate is my sister. She's on the volunteer crew, too. Kate will be our star attraction at our opening. Do you two know each other?"

"Not well," Kate quickly said. "We met five years ago." That's all that would come out so she closed her mouth and studied the front entrance, focusing on her breathing. Those yoga cla.s.ses were handy for some things. She willed her blush away from her cheeks. d.a.m.n that Pate woman, it happened every time.

The silence grew, and Kate felt Dasher's eyes on her again. Finally, Dasher said, "I tried to get Kate to sign with me, but she decided Joe Alder would be better at guiding her career. Since then we've occasionally run into each other at premieres and award shows."

Dasher stood back and slowly took in the two of them. "You two definitely look like sisters. Both lovely." She was staring directly at Kate when she said "lovely," and her gaze lingered there for a moment before a noise toward the entrance of the hotel seemed to refocus her.

Sighing, she said, "Well, I've got to get back to Greta. The fans are probably at the overwhelm stage by this time. Plus, a couple of paparazzi in the group looked feral. Good to meet you, Laurel. Say h.e.l.lo to Stef for me and that I'll talk to her later. Good to see you, too, Kate."

She strode out to meet Greta, who was waving good-bye to the fans and signing a final autograph for the doorkeeper. Dasher was not extraordinarily tall, perhaps five foot eight, but her slim build and commanding presence made her seem taller. She laughed with Greta and casually slid an arm around her waist to guide her into the hotel and forestall a new wave of fans spotting her. The possessive gesture infuriated Kate.

She had to get out of sight. She grabbed Laurel, said "Show me your office," and practically hopped to the door next to the front desk, trying to relieve her ailing knee. Fiddling with her hair nervously while Laurel slid her ID card to get the lock to release, Kate made it inside with Laurel just as the front doors began to open.

"Care to tell me what that was all about?"

Laurel, as usual, was completely in the dark about appearances. "Laur, I couldn't be caught standing there like some admirer of Greta's. I'm a bigger name than she is. It would look terrible."

Laurel was silent for a moment. "Perhaps she's a fan of yours. Did you think of that?"

Kate snorted. "As in, 'I'm a big fan of yours, you has-been'? I think not. No, better not risk it." Zeroing in on a bank of monitors, she immediately found three different angles on the front desk. She watched as Dasher and Greta stood side by side and Dasher checked in. Both were smiling and laughing, seeming like friends. Or lovers.

"So you were avoiding Greta Sarnoff, not Dasher Pate. Correct?" Laurel, who was a shorter, slighter version of Kate but with the same unusual green eyes, had her arms folded across her chest and stood c.o.c.ked on one hip. Kate was in no mood to discuss Dasher Pate.

"Dasher? h.e.l.l, no. I turned her down five years ago when we were both n.o.bodies. Look what Joe Alder has done for my career. He made me a star, just like he promised."

"I thought you were bored with the roles you've been getting and tired of him controlling your every move. You even blamed him for insisting on you doing your own stunts in this movie. Dasher, from what I've read, has A-list actors and treats them really well. Maybe you should reconsider."

"You've read about Dasher? My sister reads about Hollywood? I'm shocked." Kate was trying to change the subject and hoped Laurel would get distracted.

Laurel grinned. "My sister, Kate Hoffman, is a big Hollywood celebrity, so of course I read about it. I can't go anywhere without seeing your face on a magazine cover or someone thinking I'm you, with smaller b.o.o.bs. And don't forget the scheming we do when it's 'dump-time' for your boyfriends, or whatever you call them."

Kate had to admit that Laurel was always there for her. But the subject of Dasher Pate was not comfortable. That said, her sister was like a dog with a bone.

"So, what's the deal? Is she really a rotten person? Did she try to force you to her 'casting couch' or something awful?"

"No, nothing like that. She just...well, maybe I just feel bad. She's been nothing but professional with me. I didn't trust her to get me big jobs. Joe said that having a...a lesbian as an agent would almost certainly work against me in the film industry."

The words were out before she could edit them, and Kate didn't miss the hurt that registered in Laurel's expression. She hastened to add, "I'm sorry, sis, I'm embarra.s.sed that I was ever that shallow. You know how much I love you and am happy for you and Stef. She's terrific. I was just so insecure and listened to every word that Joe said." This was all Dasher Pate's fault. She got Kate so distracted she blurted things before she thought about how she sounded.

"And now? She's very successful. What about now?"

With a huff, Kate said, "She's polite and cool. She'd probably laugh in my face and tell me what a no-talent actress I am. She'd follow that up with the thought that I can keep doing those inane romantic comedies and thrillers until I've had so much plastic surgery no one will recognize me."

"You haven't done any surgery, have you? You're beautiful just as you are. Don't go down that road, Kate."

"No, I haven't. Yet. Joe's making noises like I should, though. Why is it that in LA the male stars can look like s.h.i.t into their nineties and they still have leading women in their twenties, while women are considered washed up at forty unless they've had major work done?"

"Because the men control most of the money and that's their fantasy. Every time I fly down to Los Angeles I'm astounded at the number of gorgeous women on the arms of these really ugly old guys with big grins. It's awful. Besides, you're only twenty-nine."

"Sis, let's not go there. It's hard enough." Until she uttered those words she hadn't realized how hard nearing thirty in the film industry really felt to her.

"Okay, sorry, Kate. I thought Dasher might be a respite from that part of your career. She seems, I don't know, honorable."

Kate was surprised at her own tone when she ground out, "That opinion after meeting her for fifteen seconds. You did just watch her check in with that teenager, right? Being gay doesn't disqualify her from taking advantage of her position."

Staring at the monitors as Dasher and Greta walked toward the elevators, Laurel said, "Maybe, maybe not. I've always read that Greta was straight."

Kate huffed. "You know better than to believe what you read when it concerns Hollywood. Besides, I've known actresses who would bed anyone to get a role."