Keeper of the Shadows - By Alexandra Sokoloff Page 0,47

her as he looked up toward her. He really did look like a movie star himself, too gorgeous to be real.

The look on his face was dazed.

“You look amazing,” he murmured as she stopped on the stair in front of him. He had flowers in one hand, a spray of coral roses.

They couldn’t stop looking at each other.

“I’ll just put those in water for you,” Rhiannon said, and took the flowers from him. Sailor snagged one and tucked it into Barrie’s hair.

“There. Perfect.”

“Well,” said Rhiannon.

“Well,” said Sailor.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Mick,” Rhiannon said, and Barrie had the distinct impression she was having trouble keeping a straight face.

“You two have a wonderful time,” Sailor chimed in.

“Hope we see you again soon,” Rhiannon added.

Sailor kissed and hugged Barrie goodbye, whispering, “Dreamy!” in her ear. On Barrie’s other side, Rhiannon’s whispered evaluation was “Perfect!”

Mick offered Barrie his arm, which she took gratefully; because even though she nearly melted at his touch, she also needed the support to walk.

Then they strolled past her cousins and out the door.

Chapter 12

Mick had not brought the Bentley but an actual limo, with an actual driver behind the partition, so they glided down the canyon and onto Hollywood Boulevard like actual movie stars. There was jazz on the stereo and champagne chilling in a bucket in the built-in bar, and Mick casually poured it into two beautifully carved flutes as the limo cruised the curving road.

Barrie took hers and drank too quickly, nervous as she was.

“Your cousins...” he said.

“I know, they’re out of control,” she said.

He smiled. “I was going to say they’re charming. You must have a lot of fun.”

“We do,” she said, and laughed, which relaxed her. The champagne was probably helping, too.

“You three remind me of—” he said, and then stopped.

“We remind you of what?” she asked, curious.

“You remind me of stars,” he said. “Real stars. Movie stars and star stars.”

Barrie felt herself flush warm, and this time it wasn’t just the champagne.

* * *

The premiere was at the Chinese, the famous theater where stars had been putting their shoe prints and handprints and signatures into slabs of cement since 1927. The theater itself was red and black, built in the style of a pagoda with Hollywood’s idea of Asian flourishes in neon, and the courtyard was paved with the iconic handprinted slabs.

The limo glided past the Walk of Fame, the Hollywood sidewalks that bore the brass stars of famous film, TV, radio and music personalities, and came to a stop in front of the Chinese Theater. It was the full red-carpet scenario, with huge spotlight beams crisscrossing the sky, and a press line rushing the red carpet as limos pulled up beside the curb to disgorge celebrity after celebrity.

Barrie found herself suddenly frozen in terror, but then the limo door opened, and the driver stood at attention outside. Mick got out and reached down a hand to help her from the car. And with her hand in his, she found herself emerging with effortless grace, feeling every bit the star he had said she looked like.

Flashbulbs popped wildly; Barrie couldn’t believe the flood of lights. It was as bright as high noon on the beach from all the kliegs—to provide the best backdrop for photos and filming, she knew, but she’d never been the one in the lights. It was dazzling and overwhelming.

But Mick guided her nonchalantly down the red carpet toward the theater entrance as paparazzi snapped and flashed.

At the guard pedestal, the doorman simply bowed to them and let them through.

“You don’t need tickets?” Barrie asked him under her breath.

“Well, I didn’t actually have them, so I used Plan B,” he confessed, and turned his face to her.

She gasped.

George Clooney looked back at her, with that roguish George Clooney smile on his face. Mick had shifted; no wonder the doorman hadn’t asked for tickets. That face was all the entrée anyone could ask for.

Clooney grinned and then dissolved back into Mick.

“I thought you didn’t do that kind of shifting anymore,” she accused, a little stunned.

“Only in emergencies.”

“And this is what you call an emergency?”

“I have to keep in practice for real emergencies, don’t I?” he asked innocently.

With premieres, the movie came first, the party after, so they had little time to talk as they moved with the crowd into the lush red-curtained theater and found seats. Barrie scanned the premiere-goers for DJ and Travis Branson, but there were too many people, and the lights dimmed shortly after they were