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Sophie Bauer?”
    Leon aimed his forefinger at me.
    Troy slapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks!”
    Nina gripped my arm. The closer Troy came, the tighter her fingers clenched. His stunning smile paralyzed us like deer in headlights.
    “Which one of you lovely ladies is Sophie Bauer?”
    Francie giggled and offered the back of her hand as though she expected him to kiss it.
    He did. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sophie. I understand you need a garage!”
    “Yes. Yes, I do!” said Francie.
    At that moment Natasha made her grand entrance, dashing across the street and fluttering into our midst, ending our besotted daze. Unlike Nina and Francie, Natasha was camera ready, her hair coiffed and her face perfect in what I suspected was full TV makeup. She wore a tailored white dress, complete with pantyhose and five-inch heels. “Francie! What do you think you’re doing? Cut! Cut! That’s not Sophie.”
    Cut?
I’d been so mesmerized by Troy’s blinding good looks that I hadn’t even noticed two guys with cameras.
    Natasha stopped just short of pushing Francie out of the way. She flicked her hands at her, like she might at a rabbit in her garden.
    In spite of Natasha’s agitation, Troy kept his cool. “You must be Natasha.”
    She flipped her black hair over her shoulder and coquettishly touched the silver choker that lay on her neck. Her long, slender legs posed in an ever-self-conscious beauty queen position. She reached both of her hands out to him.
    Troy never missed a beat. Evidently used to hugging strange women, he embraced her.
    When she released him and patted her hair, Natasha said, “
This
is Sophie.”
    Troy blinked at me for one second, then shook my hand and introduced himself. “I hear you need a garage.”
    I wasn’t sure how to answer that. I didn’t have a garage, but I had seen his show.
Tear It Up
was exactly what he did.
    Natasha called, “Cut! Cut!” She tilted her head like a confused puppy. “You’re supposed to act happy, Sophie.” She sighed and turned her attention to Troy. “Are people always this clueless?”
    I glared at Natasha before directing my attention to Troy. “Hold everything. I don’t quite understand what’s going on here.”
    Troy beamed like he thought I was the most charming woman in the world.
No wonder he had a TV show.
He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and bent his head to speak with me. “Sophie, sweetheart, we’re going to rip out your backyard and give you the garage you so desperately need.”
    I scooted out of his grasp. “That’s what I was afraid of. I like my garden.”
    “Sophie!” Natasha spoke as though she was scolding a child. “Don’t be impolite.”
    Seizing the moment, I held out my hands, gesturing toward Natasha. “There you go. Tear up Natasha’s yard.”
    Oh, the priceless mixture of astonishment and fury on her face!
    “No!” she protested. “That wouldn’t be fair to you. I already have a garage.”
    Troy’s dazzling smile had disappeared. He looked up and down the street and cast an appraising eye over me. “I thought Natasha said you come home late at night because of your job and that you have to park blocks away and walk to your house alone.”
    Okay, that part was true.
    Troy cocked his head in the direction of my house. “Let’s look at this backyard of yours.”
    Leon opened the gate and mouthed at me, “I didn’t know. I swear.”
    We trooped to the backyard.
    “Did Natasha also say I was a little old lady?” I asked Troy.
    “Yeah, something like that.”
    So that was why he thought Francie was me. The picture was becoming more clear. I eyed Natasha.
She had never said a word to me about my safety. There must be something in this for her.
    Troy studied my garden. The irises and my beloved peonies had long given way to cheerful daisies, bright sunflowers, rich blue delphiniums, and black-eyed Susans.
    He chewed on his lower lip. “Lots of flower beds. Good foundation plantings. Vegetable garden. Cute and