It was an unforced error, a mistake borne of years of crisis training. “He was pointing a gun.”

“And he gets paid a lot of money to do it.” Julian’s voice was cautious, emotionless,suspicious. “He won an Academy Award last year for pointing a very similar one at someone else.”

Fantastic. She had just “saved” Julian from a toy gun-toting, Academy Award-winning actor. How could she explain that?I’m sorry, but my police training kicked in and I wanted to save you? Oops, but it reminded me of my last hostage situation? My apologies, but pivoting from an undercover cop to an actor is harder than it looks?She would go for offence instead. “Why did you carry me? And don’t think I didn’t notice your amusement.”

“Sorry about that.” His smile said he wasn’t sorry at all. “I did it to avoid you getting kicked off the film. The director has a very short temper when it comes to his cast. If he knew you freaked out at a prop gun he might decide to replace you with one of the other, saner extras.”

So he hadn’t set out to humiliate her, but to save her. She should have recognized the actor, seen the gun for the prop it was. She turned away from him, and for the first time, noticed the posh surroundings. Andwow.

Overstuffed couches and throne-like chairs dotted a carpet so thick you literally sank into it. It smelled like Starcroft’s spicy cologne, sharp and overbearing, with a whiff of chocolate from a platter of fresh brownies. Gleaming awards (was that an Oscar?) graced cherrywood bookcases while dozens of photographs hung on the walls, pictures of Julian with other A-listers, politicians and even a certain silver-haired queen. Cheyenne’s gaze snagged at a picture of Julian and a distinguished older man. Both sported Oscars, matching grins and a connection toherthey didn’t realize.

“The renowned Charles Sanders. That was his third, or was it fourth, Oscar?” Julian walked next to her.

She swallowed. She shouldn’t ask. Shouldn’t even care. Definitely shouldn’t mention that Charles Sanders was the one actor she did know. “Are you close to him?”

“Very close.” Julian traced the picture. “I never knew my dad, but Charles is like a father to me. He was the star on my first film, and mentored me through it all. He’s been a great friend ever since. I wouldn’t have made it this far without him.”

“I see.” Her throat tightened.

He paused, glanced between her and the photograph. “You don’t know him, do you?”

She’d sooner admit she was an undercover cop. “How would an extra know a big star like that?” Before he could respond, she stepped to the next bookcase. Numerous awards gleamed next to the photographs, including plaques from charitable organizations, several of which bore the Starcroft name, and trophies from martial arts tournaments.

So that’s how he overcame her moves.

Julian tracked her. The suspicion – and challenge – never left. “What’s this really about? Why did you go all action hero back there?”

Cheyenne exhaled. What could she say that wouldn’t give her away? “I was in a situation with a gun. A robbery.” Now that was true. Last week, in fact.

Julian’s eyes flashed with shocking vehemence. “Did someone hurt you?”

“No, but there was a chase.”She chased the robber, that was.“And the robber got caught by a veteran cop.”Her.“Thankfully no one got hurt, but it was scary. I think my reaction might be a delayed response to that situation.”Now that was just a lie.

Julian seemed to accept that. Thank goodness, one problem solv− “So how did you almost take me down?” He broke into her relief parade. “I recognized the technique right away and wouldhave succumbed if I hadn’t studied martial arts. Where did you train?”

Cheyenne opened her mouth to respond, closed it swiftly. Too late – his smug smile proved she’d already given him the information he sought. The corners of his mouth quirked up. “I thought so. We should compare techniques sometime. I am curious, however. A black belt is almost a necessity for an action star, but you don’t seem to be pursuing those roles. What made you decide to study?”

This undercover mission was rocketing to a box office bomb. She was going for dimwitted and promiscuous, not female action star. How could she stay in character without denying the obvious? “It’s just a hobby.”

“I don’t think so.” He leaned in. “You’re far more than you seem. What are you hiding?”

Her name. Her job. The true reason she was here.

Everything.

“Now you’re being paranoid.”

“Or I’m right.” The low timbre of his voice revealed his power. “I keep tabs of everyone on set. Three photographers snuck onto the set of my last movie. One of them even managed to get into my dressing room.”

She just stopped herself from asking what the reporter had seen. “If I was a photographer, do you think I’d willingly play body double?”

He shrugged. “Photographs of me go for a lot of money. Some people might be willing to go to great lengths to secure them.”

Breathe. Stay calm. Do not arrest him.“I would never pretend to be a body double for some ill-begotten pictures. I would only let someone touch me if I really wanted it.”What had she just said?“I mean I would only do it for my career,” she amended hastily. “For myactingcareer.”

Julian smiled like a fox who had just stumbled upon the national henhouse convention. Yet soon it faded. “The eight hundred guys you hit on earlier would say differently. Or I may be underestimating.” He grimaced. “You even cozied up to Franklin. Sheesh, Destiny, he’s been married longer than you’ve been alive.”

He had her there. The victims had been approached by a variety of men, which made the police believe the true mastermind hired male extras as recruiters for short periods of time before moving on to others to cover his tracks. The only constant was the perpetrators were always male, thus any and all men, no matter their age, appearance or demographic, were potential suspects. “You’re accusing me of hitting on a married man who’s old enough to be my grandfather?” She blew a wisp of hair from her eyes. “I’m just friendly.”