The smell of gasoline began to permeate the air, clouding her judgment. She looked down at her outfit and knew today’s interview wasn’t happening with the way she looked. She’d seen homeless people appear more pulled together. Confused, she wondered what she had wanted to do.
Cassie saw the stupid dog again, a yapping, spoiled poodle. The prissy mutt’s owner teetered over on stilettos taller than the Eiffel Tower and scooped the dog up, hugging him to her tightly as she glared at Cassie. Cassie estimated the dog’s outfit cost more than her last month’s rent. The woman walked on, not bothering to ask if she needed help. Hollywood. It was a different world from Texas.
She reached for her purse and slung it over her shoulder. Nothing else of value to save. Cassie prayed the passenger door would open. If it didn’t, she could always climb into the back seat and get out that way.
Suddenly, he was hollering. The guy she’d sort of hit. It must’ve been his car she’d smashed. If she hadn’t been sure before, she was now. Men and their cars—no one came between them.
Cassie giggled at her flash of wisdom. That was one car that wouldn’t be cruising around Beverly Hills anytime soon. Jeez, what would this do to her insurance? She already had two speeding tickets in the last eighteen months. Her insurance agent would drop her now. She’d be at the mercy of those goons that only advertised on late night TV. They charged an arm and a leg to cover high-risk drivers. She was now a charter member of that club.
She looked up as the guy inched closer, hobbling along, yelling, his arms waving. Breathing the gas fumes had her disoriented. She couldn’t understand what he was saying. She started to apologize but then remembered her mom told her never to apologize after a wreck because that could be construed as admitting guilt. She was at fault. Big time.
The guy made it to her and tried to yank the door open. It wouldn’t move. Before Cassie could speak, he reached through her open window and hauled her out.
“Hey, wait a minute. What are you doing?”
He mumbled something but all Cassie could do was stare at him. He had the most amazing gray eyes, dark and stormy and full of anger.
At her.
Recognition seared through her. “Oh, God. You’re Rhett Corrigan.”
If her heart had been in overdrive before, it now pounded like an African drum—loud, erratic, and wild. She realized he was running. Rhett Corrigan was hauling ass. Just like in one of his movies. At least as much as he could. His gait was off. She must have hit him after all. Clipped his knee, run over his foot, something.
Then the explosion sounded. Cassie flinched as she looked over her shoulder to see the Civic turned into a fireball. Flames rose and flickered like dancing devils. They ran along the entire frame and leaped onto Rhett Corrigan’s convertible, lighting it afire. Suddenly, the convertible also exploded and Cassie understood that the gas tank caused the fireworks.
She sucked in a deep breath of sweet air and glanced back at her rescuer. “You saved my life,” she said in wonder, her head starting to clear now that she wasn’t inhaling noxious fumes. “If you hadn’t pulled me out when you did, I would be toast.”
A violent trembling shot through her body, quick as a California brush fire. She clutched the movie star’s shoulders, digging her nails in deep. He winced but she couldn’t help it. It was as if she’d jumped into the Atlantic’s icy waters as the Titanic sank and then miraculously was pulled to safety. Her teeth began chattering uncontrollably.
Rhett lowered her feet to the ground but still hung on to her.
“Are you all right?” he asked gruffly. His eyes still flashed steel gray but she could see a smidgen of sympathy lurking there.
“I think so.” She frowned and glanced down at her bare right foot resting atop his Bruno Magli loafer. “I lost my shoe.”
His eyes swept down and back up. “I guess you did,” he agreed.
The trembling stopped as quickly as it had started. Cassie sensed the hot flush creep up her neck and spill onto her cheeks. She became aware of being locked body-to-body with the world’s most famous action star. She swallowed hard and relaxed her death grip on his shoulders. She tried to step back but he still held on. Probably because he knew she would collapse in a heap on the sidewalk if he didn’t.
Despite everything, all she could think was how melt-your-bones good it felt being in his arms.
She pushed that crazy thought aside. She owed him an apology. “I am so, so sorry about your car, Mr. Corrigan. A dog ran out and I swerved so I wouldn’t hit him. I hit a squirrel once back home, right after I got my driver’s license, and I was sick for two days. Throwing up, crying.”
The puzzled look on his face made her realize how foolish it was to talk about squirrels when she’d almost hit and killed the world’s highest paid movie star.
Come on, Cassie, think. Get with the program. Speak like an adult. Say something serious. Money. Adults always thought about money.
“I promise I will pay for your car, sir. It will take me this life and most of the next to do so, but I will pay you to the penny.” She frowned. “And that knot on your head. I’m very sorry. I’m not quite sure how that happened. I saw you limping. Did I hit your leg?” Her eyes widened. “We should call 911. ER needs to check you over. I’ll bet you’re insured for millions. All of America knows how valuable you are. Let me call an ambulance.”
Cassie somehow separated herself from him and dug in her purse for her cell phone. “Oh, great. It’s dead. This thing will not hold a charge anymore.” She glanced up. “I suppose you have one we can use?”
Rhett nodded, a ghost of a smile threatening to break out. “I don’t need an ambulance. You might.”
“No, seriously,” she assured him, “I’m fine. Better than fine. Well, not really fine because I just totaled your car and mine and it looks as if my job interview at Merriman Smith won’t happen and I’ll be stuck working for Manny until my teeth and hair fall out, but I’m really okay. Really. Other than not having insurance anymore. No one will cover me after this mother of a wreck.”
The sound of sirens pierced the air. Cassie looked back at the burning cars and saw a crowd had gathered. Every person in sight held up a cell phone, snapping pictures and shooting video.
“Oh, no. We’re going to be on the news. Manny will know I lied about having to go to the dentist. I am so fired.”
A woman in a Cornhusker shirt rushed toward them and began taking pictures.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she hollered at the gray-haired granny. “Back off! Mr. Corrigan doesn’t need some tourist from Nebraska shoving a camera in his face, much less selling them to some sleazy tabloid.”
Cassie looked around. “Who are all you people? Get out of here. Right now.” She waved her arms like a wild woman. Part of the crowd backed off. The rest clicked away, huge grins on their faces.
“You’re giving them what they want,” Rhett whispered in her ear. Tingles rippled through Cassie at the slight touch. “They feed on this stuff. Come on.” He took her elbow and led her back across the street. He limped due to whatever injury she had caused; she limped because that’s what a person did trying to walk in one high heel.
Rhett briefly stopped at the patrol car parked near the now-smoldering cars. “I’m Rhett Corrigan, Officer. We’ve had a little fender bender here.”