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terminated that pregnancy when he refused to come to heel.
    Lies. Vicious, hurtful lies. Every one of them.
    And of course those stories were accompanied by all the articles comparing her to her sister—a resurgence of the pieces penned years ago. She was proud of Hannah, pleased for her. But her success came at a cost to Caitlin. The press had polarised them way back when—the ‘good sister’ versus ‘the bad sister’, the ‘talented’ versus the ‘try-hard’, the ‘consummate professional’ versus the ‘demanding diva’. While Hannah didn’t buy into it, didn’t add to the rumour mill, or perpetuate it, their father always had. He still was, with his apparent attempt to ‘reach out’ to Caitlin, his ‘troubled younger daughter’. Through the press of course. As if what had been written were true.
    She’d never forgive him for that.
    She’d never wanted her life to become like some scripted reality TV show. Didn’t hunger for fame the way her father did or have a passion for being on film like her sister. She’d worked as a child model and actress purely because she’d been told to. Because they’d needed the money. She’d got out of it as soon as she could—as soon as she’d forced them to drop her.
    Now she just wanted to be left in peace to do her own thing.
    Here, now, in New York, the streets were crowded with people busily going their own way, getting to where they needed to go and not paying attention to anyone else. Moving fast and free. She wanted to be like them.
    â€˜First time in Manhattan?’ James’ amused voice broke into her reverie.
    She realised she was standing stock-still, staring at the crowds walking down the sidewalk. She tore her gaze away from the scene and looked up at him, pasting a smile to her lips. ‘It’s that obvious?’
    His eyebrows flickered. ‘What’s first on the list?’
    â€˜The list?’ She echoed like an idiot as she looked at him in the midday light. He really was extremely compelling—tall, focused, intriguing.
    â€˜Your “must-see, must-do” itinerary,’ he explained.
    â€˜Oh.’ She turned and fell into step with him. ‘Do you know, I don’t know. I haven’t had the chance to figure it out.’ She glanced up and saw his surprised expression. ‘The trip was a last minute thing.’
    â€˜You must have some ideas. No?’ He frowned. ‘Come on, let’s eat and I’ll give you a rundown of the highlights.’
    â€˜The Wolfe Guide?’
    â€˜Something like that.’ He led her a few more paces down the block and then turned, holding the door for her.
    A diner like one out of an old Seinfeld episode? She grinned. Okay, she could do that. She was definitely in the Big Apple now.
    He slid into a booth. She sank into the seat opposite and toyed with the menu.
    â€˜You ready to order?’ a waitress asked.
    Caitlin hesitated.
    â€˜I’ll have blueberry pancakes, please,’ James ordered, then looked at Caitlin and winked. ‘Nothing beats dessert for brunch.’
    She faux winced and ordered just a coffee.
    â€˜That’s all you want?’ He frowned as the waitress departed.
    â€˜It takes a while for my appetite to wake up,’ she lied, fiddling with a sugar sachet to avoid looking at him. It wasn’t an outrageously expensive place, but she was going to have to be careful.
    â€˜It should be awake by now,’ he half snorted. ‘It’s after midday—we slept through breakfast and lunch.’
    Well, her budget was more a one-meal-a-day deal, but she wasn’t going to tell him all her sad little secrets.
    â€˜So, you must have some kind of list,’ he said, sitting back as the waitress came and poured their coffees. ‘Got to have the usual things...Statue of Liberty, Times Square, Rockefeller Center...’
    â€˜Yeah, I