and if she got involved with the new character, she’d only muddle the waters even more.
She would write his lines, create his character. He would make David come to life on the small screen.
And that was it.
Anything more would only lead to trouble.
And Elle Riley didn’t do trouble.
When Elle arrived at the studio gate the following morning, she was astonished to see a crowd of photographers swarming the booth.
“What the hell?” she murmured, pulling the car over. She quickly dialed Whitney, who answered on the first ring.
“It’s TMZ, someone leaked it.” Her voice was flat. She didn’t seem at all surprised. She’d been in the business much longer than Elle and, for the most part, was better at handling the curveballs Hollywood often threw their way. Elle, not so much.
“About Nolan? Seriously? It’s been less than twenty-four hours, for God’s sake!” Her arm leaned against the door as her hand cradled her forehead in defeat. “What should I do, Whit?”
“Don’t let the bloodsuckers get to you. Ignore them and eventually they’ll go away.” She paused. “Eventually.”
Elle ignored Whitney’s calm instructions, focusing on the questions swirling in her brain. “Do you think his people leaked it?”
Without hesitation, Whitney answered. “You bet I do.”
Elle sighed, throwing her head back to crash against the headrest. “When is this going to get easier?”
“For you? Maybe never.” Elle thought she heard a chuckle.
“Not funny.”
“Sorry, but seriously, you have to let these things roll. It’s all part of it. Listen, this should cheer you up—I just spoke with Luke’s agent. He’s coming by this afternoon to read with Gina.”
Just the mention of his name made Elle’s nerves stand at attention. Within seconds, she was no longer concerned about the huddled mass of photographers blocking the gate. Instead, she was listening to the hum of her body, the buzzing in her brain. She knew she’d have to get herself under control, but his presence did something to her—the very thought of him was exhilarating. She couldn’t wait to watch him read with Gina, watch his masculine jaw move as he delivered his lines. Yesterday, she’d read with him and was too nervous to watch him—afraid she’d lose her place in the script and look like a fool. This time, she could lean back in her chair and admire the man who affected her in a way no one had since she’d relocated to California.
“Elle? Elle?”
Her hand jumped to cover her mouth. She’d spaced out and forgotten Whitney was still on the phone with her. What in the world was happening to her? She was acting like a teenager—and a foolish one at that. She was Elle Riley, known for her professionalism and steady hand. She had to snap out of it.
But those eyes . . .
“I’m here, sorry, I dropped the phone.”
“Fine, whatever, just . . . get through the gate and get in here. Rob wants to meet with you.”
“Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know—maybe something about needing an entire season of scripts that now include a new character and new storyline?”
“Oh, that. Okay, I’ll be in in five.”
Slowly, Elle pulled up to the studio booth, doing her best not to flinch at the blinding camera flashes or her name being shouted.
“Elle, can we talk to you?”
“Elle, are the rumors true? Is Nolan no longer under contract?”
“Elle, can we get a statement? Can we get a picture?”
It annoyed her that every single shout began with her name, as if she and the gossip-hounds were on some sort of intimate basis. Where she came from, calling someone by his or her first name was something you earned—a friendly form of intimacy. She had a lot to adjust to in this new land of gossip magazines, starlets, and celebrity.
Larry waved her in, opening the gate so she didn’t have to open her window. She could hear the photographers yelling louder as her car pulled into the lot and away from the mania. Once she was out of sight, her pulse returned to its normal rate and she was able to breathe easy. For the time being.
“Okay, let’s be realistic here. We need to film the first twelve episodes before we go on hiatus. How many have you already written for this season?”
“Six, but we have to rewrite almost all of them to include Luke.”
“Not necessarily.” Rob stood and paced the length of his office. There was no desk-perching today. His shaky arms and fidgeting hands gave away his nerves. He was just as concerned as Elle. “You could write him