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The detective got right to the point. “Destiny Dane doesn’t exist.”
That wasn’t a surprise. Many actresses utilized professional names that differed from their legal ones. “I figured as much. What’s her real name?”
“You don’t understand.” The investigator’s voice was short and clipped. “Destiny Dane isn’t merely the stage name of an actress. The actress doesn’t exist. Her resume is a work of fiction.”
He’d caught her in some lies, but who didn’t embellish? “I know she exaggerated some of her skills, but that’s common–”
“No, not exaggerated,” the caller broke in. “Lied, and not just about one thing. Abouteverything. Not one reference was accurate, and all those projects she supposedly worked on – not a single one panned out. I tried to track her biographical information without using a name and still came up empty.”
It didn’t make sense. “Surely there is something–”
“Julian, her social security number was invalid.”
He stiffened. Lying about experience and skills was common, but her social security number? That’s how they did payroll – she couldn’t get paid without it.
“Something is seriously off about the woman,” his friend voiced the suspicions churning inside. “I do a lot of these checks and you don’t find this much duplicity unless the person is hiding something. Something big.”
Julian didn’t need a professional assessment to know that. This was more than an embellished resume. The woman was a profound mystery.
He knew just how to solve it.
Cheyenne forced her eyes open.Again. After she’d done so again and again and again. It didn’t matter that it was daytime – it felt like she hadn’t slept at all. There wasn’t any big mystery behind her exhaustion, not when she’d spent the entire night waking up in a sweat to the most disturbing dreams of her life. Nightmares of car chases? Nope. Hostage situations? Not tonight. Bank robberies? Not even close. Instead the dreams centered on a single man:
Julian Starcroft.
She couldn’t count the times or ways she’d dreamed of Julian. Julian acting out a scene… naked. Julian leaning over her… naked. Julian caressing her… well, of course, naked. It really was the only constant, and it made her wake up oh-so-hot and oh-so-bothered time and time again. Then getting back to sleep? Forget it. Even counting sheep turned into counting Julians… naked.
She took a bite of some generic flaky cereal that tasted like stale cardboard to her tired taste buds. She still wore her comfy velour robe, and her hair was sticking in so many directions it resembled a highway interchange. Thankfully, she had a few minutes before she had to get ready, so she grabbed the television remote. Maybe some mindless programming would get her mind off Julian Starcroft and his unclothed body.
An early morning talk show came on, with a way too chipper host discussing how to catch a guy. Definitely not suitable. How to lose a guy… now that might be useful. She switched past an infomercial for a fancy appliance that was pretty much a blender, some dizzying cartoons, exes battling it out in court and finally came to an entertainment channel. She blinked as a picture of Julian Starcroft came on the screen.
“I’m really losing it if I see him while I’m awake,” she commented.
“And even more if I’m talking to myself,” she added.
She closed and opened her eyes, but the image of Julian remained. Was she still dreaming? However, this time he was fully dressed, which was what finally convinced her he was actually on the screen and not a product of her imagination.
She should change the channel. Or better yet, turn off the television and prepare for a day of sleuthing. Instead, she turned the volume up.
It was a replay of a previous telecast. “It’s Wednesday, and we’re at Miami Children’s Hospital,” a narrator was speaking, “and who do we see but A-lister Julian Starcroft? In our special segment, secret celebrity heroes, we look for stars going undercover for good causes. Julian, how long have you beenvolunteering for the hospital?” She thrust the microphone into his face.
It was one of those tabloid entertainment shows, where paparazzi stalk celebrities in search of juicy scoops. Julian frowned at the swarm surrounding him. “No comment.” He kept his eyes straight as he approached the entrance.
“Oh come on, Julian, give us some info! We want to hear all about your secret work.”
Cheyenne leaned closer to the screen, as he stopped, clearly frustrated. “This isn’t a photo opportunity, and I’m not doing this for publicity. I’m just trying to help. The cameras are disturbing the patients.”
Kids could be heard crying in the background. Parents carrying sick kids had to go around the news trucks, fighting for access. Security guards were trying, but because of the reporter, more people were noticing Julian. A circle of fans formed around him.
“That’s great that you’re helping so much!” The overeager newswoman ignored Julian’s plea and nearly tripped a kid on crutches. “While we’ve got you here, any news about the love life? Are you still dating that Brazilian supermodel?”
Julian’s eyes flashed with anger. “I was never–” He took a deep breath. “I have to go. No more questions.” He continued walking even as the reporter yelled at him. Cheyenne turned off the television.
Julian was obviously trying to do some good in the world, but opportunists were willing to harm him and others for their stories. The narrator had said it was Wednesday night, the night he couldn’t go out with her because of mysterious plans. She had guessed a date with fifty women. The truth had been far nobler.
Her heart shuddered.
She forced him from her mind as she styled her hair and changed into jeans and a tan button-down shirt, purposelydressing down on this day of their second date. How could an entire week pass so quickly? Of course, no matter how she’d tried to avoid it, she spent hours with him every single day.