and gave it to me. It’s really more your style than mine anyway, but I like it.”
“Like Nancy is going to care what I’m wearing.”
Roxanne had met Nancy several years ago when Roxanne had a small part on a sitcom Nancy’s husband, Mike, produced. Nancy had been on the set and curious about an ancestry chart Roxanne had done for another member of the cast. Curious about her own ancestry, Nancy hired Roxanne to investigate and they’d become friends. Portia, who occasionally helped with the searches, had formed her own friendship with the older woman. Roxanne fastened the heavy platinum necklace around her neck and glanced at herself in the mirror over the sideboard. She’d worn her hair up in a French twist. The necklace added just that last bit of style she knew she needed to emphasize her long, slender neck. Leave it to Portia to recognize exactly what would complete an outfit.
“Nancy is all about appearances and she expects you to show up looking classy,” Portia said, opening the front door and gesturing toward the car. “Let’s go, you know how Nancy hates waiting.”
* * *
“Nancy,” Roxanne said, surprised. “I hope we’re not late.” Ever since Nancy’s phone call asking to meet for lunch at her favorite restaurant, Believe, Roxanne had been curious.
Nancy Bertram was a tiny woman, barely five feet tall with an even tinier waist. Roxanne found it hard to believe her petite body had birthed two lusty boys and one girl. But more than that, Roxanne had always envied Nancy’s unerring sense of fashion, from the peach Louboutins on her feet to the matching Chanel suit and tiny gold starburst pin on the collar.
The hostess seated them in a comfortable booth in the back of the restaurant and handed them menus.
“What’s going on?” Roxanne asked. “You seemed urgent to see me.”
Nancy grinned. “My husband sent me to ask if you’d like to be on Celebrity Dance.” Her husband produced a number of shows, all of them dramas except for Celebrity Dance.
Roxanne’s stomach dropped to the floor. Dancing? On television? This wasn’t acting, this was a coordination test—one she was sure to fail.
“What? I mean why?” Celebrity Dance had only been on television for a year, but was already popular, challenging Dancing with the Stars for top ratings. Roxanne had a hard time seeing herself on the show. She wasn’t very graceful and didn’t know how to dance.
Nancy whipped out her iPad and swiped across the screen. She held it out to Roxanne. “Have you read any of the comments about your small role in Bayside PD from the last episode?”
“I never read those comments. The only thing I read is to make sure my name is spelled correctly on my paycheck.”
Nancy took her iPad back. “In the few minutes your character was on scene, you created your own following. People bonded with your character and spent the rest of the show wondering who killed you and why.”
“A lot of advertising featured me in it. Maybe the audience was just curious.”
“Bayside PD has been solidly placed this year and ratings have been steadily growing. Something about this episode just piqued a lot of interest in your character.” Nancy shook her head, her elegant blond bob swishing back and forth and settling back into style without one hair out of place.
“I told her she was trending,” Portia put in.
Nancy smiled at Roxanne. “Don’t you miss being the center of attention?”
Did she miss the attention? Not really. “What I miss is getting to pretend to be someone else for a while. It’s like being a superhero with your mother’s towel wrapped around your neck to make a cape, but the next morning you’re back to being you.”
Nancy laughed and Portia shook her head. “Not that we ever did that?”
“You didn’t!” Roxanne said in mock dismay at her sister.
Nancy waved her hands as though settling a cape around her shoulders. “My mother had a gold silk capelet that was the perfect length when I was five. Though I don’t think she ever forgave me when I jumped in the pool wearing it because I was pretending to save the dog.”
Roxanne and Portia joined her in laughter.
“But that’s all it is, playtime.” Roxanne and Portia’s mother had not been thrilled to discover her expensive towels being used as superhero capes.
“Which brings us back to why I wanted to have lunch with you.” Nancy put her iPad back in its jacket. “You know Mike and his friend Nicholas Torres developed Celebrity Dance. Nick had this idea to let the audience choose the next contestants for the summer season. And your name came up in the top three. Apparently, you have the most loyal following despite the fact you haven’t done more than a few roles here and there since Family Tree was canceled. And I’ve been tasked to get you to agree to be on the show.”
“I don’t know...” she countered.
“You mean you don’t want to do it?” Nancy said, her voice clipped.
The last thing she wanted was to alienate Nancy. The woman had been one of her first clients and was well connected. She was also very protective of her husband’s business interests. Nancy might like Roxanne a lot, but clearly she wouldn’t take kindly to anyone letting her husband down. Roxanne couldn’t blame her. Hollywood was full of backstabbers. Loyalty was something rare and valuable—even among spouses.
Roxanne owed Nancy for helping her with her fledgling genealogy business.
“I like to dance,” Roxanne said, hesitantly. “I’m not good at it, but I do enjoy a rousing polka.”
“Perfect.” Nancy pulled out her phone. “After lunch we’ll head over to Mike’s office. He would like to meet you.”
“I should take my sister home first.”
“Nonsense. Bring her along. Mike won’t mind. I’ll keep her occupied.”
Portia clapped her hands. “This sounds like fun!”
Fun. Right. Roxanne had some reservations. Who would they pair her with? And what in the hell had she gotten herself into?
* * *
Mike Bertram’s office was large enough to hold a dozen people. A large picture window overlooked the street. Bookshelves lined one whole wall and were stuffed with scripts and books. A huge black glass desk sat across a corner and Mike stood in front of it with a tall, slim man. Mike was shorter than Roxanne, slightly paunchy, but with a friendly face and kind eyes. He wore an expensive black suit, snow-white shirt and red tie.
“Roxanne, thank you for coming,” Mike said holding out his hand. His head barely came to her shoulder and his handshake was soft. “Let me introduce you to my business partner, Nicholas Torres.”
She shook Mike’s hand and turned to Nicholas Torres. She caught her breath. Nicholas Torres was more handsome in person than on TV. He not only produced the show, but was the lead dancer for Celebrity Dance. Nicholas was tall and lithe, but with a muscular catlike grace as he walked to her and shook her hand. His hand was warm and strong. His skin was a pleasing light cinnamon tone and his eyes were gray-brown flecked with green. He was dressed more casually in dark blue pants, a steel-gray shirt at the neck, no jacket or tie. His hair was cut tight to his head and he wore a diamond stud in one ear. She especially liked the fact that he towered over her by several inches—something most men didn’t do.
His handshake was pleasantly firm without being crushing. “I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Deveraux.”
Something about him made her insides go all hot and gooey. Roxanne grinned at him. “Please, call me Roxanne,” she said, her voice sounding a little breathy. Hmm... It had been a long time since she had been so immediately taken by a man. She was surprised.
He smiled, revealing straight white teeth. “I’m Nick. Shall we sit