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And if we keep going forward with this, we’re going to fall right into someone’s trap.” He looked at me again. “That reporter on the red carpet last night? He asked why you didn’t show that day. That suggests he didn’t know what happened to you. But then he called out the address of your accident to Grant to get a reaction out of him.”
    “Are you sure it was the same reporter?”
    “It would be too much of a coincidence if it wasn’t.”
    He was right, of course.
    It was my turn to pace the room. I wanted to drag my fingers through my hair, but it was gone, too short to even feel against my fingers—except in the rough bristle that felt like a man’s new beard. I leaned against the wall, thinking about last night, about that man’s words.
    Bulbs immediately flashed in our faces as we got out of the car. Someone grabbed my arm and spun me nearly out of Xander’s grip.
    “Harley Alistair! Where have you been hiding?”
    He grabbed me even as Xander pulled me tight against his side and said, “We’re not answering questions right now.”
    But the man pushed the issue.
    “You’ve always been open with the press, Harley,” he said. “You promised me an exclusive on your falling out with Margaret Wallace. Did you change your mind?”
    “I don’t…”
    “Harley, where have you been these last few weeks? When did you get back with Xander Boggs? Weren’t you going home to Texas this month?”
    “He said I’d had a falling out with Margaret. Why would he say that?”
    Xander turned to me. “What do you mean?”
    “Margaret and I fought once, weeks before the accident. But after that, we were civil with each other, even friendly at the few press junkets she asked me to attend. So why would he think we’d had a falling out?”
    Xander shook his head, even as the incident played through my mind again, like a tape I could rewind and pause, focus on first this bit, then that.
    “He also asked about you and I. Asked why we were back together. Doesn’t that seem like an odd question from someone working with Philip?”
    “Maybe it was cover for the other reporters around us.”
    “But none of them asked those questions. Someone asked if the wedding was back on, but that was it.”
    “And he asked about you going back to Texas.”
    Xander seemed worried now, too. More worried than he’d been.
    There was clearly something not right here.
    “I don’t know what the two of you are up to, but I don’t like it,” Bonnie said.
    Xander turned to her and shook her lightly. “What the hell has Grant got us all wrapped up in?”
    She just shook her head. She didn’t know any better than we did.
    “We have to talk to Grant,” he repeated, as he stepped away from his mother and came to me. “And no more calls to Philip until we figure out who he’s leaking information to.”
    “It’s not Philip.”
    He touched the side of my face lightly. “How can you say that with everything that’s gone on?”
    “Because…”
    Because she told me.
    But I’d promised I wouldn’t tell him. She wanted him to continue trusting him, and she didn’t think he would if the truth came out.
    But wasn’t that the thing here? Wasn’t all of this the result of too many people keeping too many secrets for too long?
    “Grant won’t talk to her.”
    Bonnie’s voice was verging on hysterics. I almost felt sorry for her. She’d clearly been in love with Grant since she began working for him. And he treated her well, except when he didn’t, which was far too often. They were lovers. She admitted that to me once. Had been since before his divorce from Margaret’s mother. But he’d likely never marry her, and he wouldn’t stop dating the starlets that came and went from his life as if his bedroom door was a revolving one.
    I couldn’t understand how she could put up with such a thing. But then I looked at Xander and wondered what I would do if that was all he was willing to share with me.
    Who could really judge a