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forage.’
    That easily he made her smile. ‘In the wilds of New York city?’
    â€˜It’s a challenge.’ He nodded seriously. ‘You up for it?’
    Truthfully she’d been going to go with a container of yoghurt. She was on bread and cheese rations for this trip. But she needed to get out of here and inhale some fresh air. Cool the little inferno bubbling inside.
    â€˜Okay.’ She swiftly twisted her plait into a flat bun—and then hid the lot under her black beanie, and grabbed her oversize sunglasses.
    â€˜What are you doing?’ he asked, staring at her.
    â€˜Getting ready to go out.’
    â€˜You don’t like the sun?’
    â€˜I don’t like being seen.’
    â€˜You’re used to being recognised?’ His brows lifted again.
    â€˜It’s unlikely here, but you never know.’ There was always someone, and everyone had smartphones. A snap could go round the world in seconds. She’d suffered through that many scathing articles and online comments recently, she didn’t feel safe from them yet—despite being in a whole other country.
    â€˜Why would people recognise you?’
    She hesitated. Until a few weeks ago most people wouldn’t have. It was years since she’d been on telly screens. But just over a month ago Dominic and his new girlfriend had set the hounds on her. Not that she was telling James about that mess. ‘I have a famous sister.’
    His frown deepened when she didn’t elaborate. ‘Well, if you don’t want to be noticed—’ he plucked the glasses from her nose ‘—you’re going the wrong way about it.’ He tugged the beanie off her head as well and tossed it onto the bed. ‘There are plenty of blondes in this town. Even natural ones like you. No one will notice. But if they see someone so obviously trying to hide, then they’re going to think you’re someone worth snapping.’ He walked into the wardrobe.
    â€˜Photographers linger in this area?’ she called after him. She should have known it. This building filled with huge condos in central Manhattan meant serious wealth—no doubt celebrities were part of the body corporate.
    â€˜Sometimes.’ He reappeared. ‘Wear this.’ He handed her a New York Yankees cap. ‘It’s not winter, you know.’
    â€˜Thanks.’
    Fists on hips, he studied her intently as she pulled the cap down more securely. ‘You really don’t like the press?’ he asked.
    â€˜Who does?’
    â€˜Lots of people want to have more than their fifteen minutes,’ he said.
    â€˜They’re welcome to have mine.’ Caitlin walked out of the bedroom.
    She’d actually had more than her fifteen minutes years ago, and she didn’t want a second more. Which made the recent events all the more galling. Given she’d been out of the scene for so long, she’d forgotten how to play the game. She’d forgotten how much it hurt. And worse, both the field and her opponents of today were bigger and more vicious than before.
    She lost her stomach in the elevator ride down to the lobby. Well, maybe it wasn’t the elevator, maybe it was a weird combo of nerves and excitement and a fragile possibility of happiness. Outside she drew breath and blinked at the mid-morning sunlight. Could she really walk down the street like a free person?
    The last few weeks in London she’d been a virtual prisoner, afraid not only of whether there’d be a photographer lurking, but the reaction of the general public. She’d dreaded anyone recognising her. Having been labelled the psycho ex of the ‘hot young actor’ and the woman who’d gone crazy in her attempts to get him back, she’d been on the receiving end of the venom. They said she’d gone stalker when Dominic broke up with her. That she’d used the possibility of a baby to try to get him back. That she’d