Page 12 of Baxter's Right-Hand Man

I sidled between Janet and the bodyguard, cleared my throat, and thrust my hand at Pierce. “I’m Lorenzo. My friends call me Lo. Um…I’m a friend of Mr. Gowan’s and…hi.”

Oh, geez. I used to be cool. What the actual hell?

My lack of finesse was exacerbated by the chorus of voices and general hullaballoo of too many people in a cramped space. Pierce was in the midst of a decidedly one-sided conversation with Enid, but he turned…and did a double take, staring at me for a moment.

And can I just say…that was going on my list of lifetime highlights. Okay, so that look was more confused than desirous, but my friends didn’t need to know that.

He recovered quickly and slid his palm against mine. “Lor-en-zo. It’s nice to meet you.”

Time stopped.

Every clock everywhere in the universe ceased to tick or tock. I felt light-headed and dizzy and a whole lot of other things I couldn’t identify.

But the way he said my name was so…dreamy—as if he were savoring every consonant. Hold up. Were we having a moment? No, it had to be my imagination.

I swallowed hard and tried to think of something clever to add, but Janet was already pulling him away.

“You have to be at the studio in an hour.” She tapped her watch meaningfully. “Shall we?”

Pierce released my hand and followed Enid and his entourage into the adjoining living area without a second glance.

Yeah, definitely my imagination.

But you know, I hadn’t gotten my selfie and until I was given a formal heave-ho, I figured I’d milk my brush with fame for all it was worth. I oh, so casually sashayed into the room and plastered my back against the nearest bookshelf, transforming into a human fly on the wall.

That was easy enough to do in this house. Mr. G was a self-proclaimed collector of eclectic and beautiful things. His shelves were filled to capacity with books and mementos from his travels that I’d helped him curate with tasteful knickknacks…like a miniature antique clock, silver frames with pics of old friends, and sea glass from Crystal Cove.

Bookshelves lined two walls, one of which faced the garden and the pool beyond. The other two walls showcased museum-worthy landscapes. The space was lush with thick silk taffeta drapery, Persian rugs, a baby grand piano, elegant furnishings, a massive marble-and-stone hearth, and a game table in front of the window.

It was a fitting spot to hold court with a movie star.

I made sure I had a good view and could hear all the juicy details when Mr. Gowan stood on wobbly knees, leaning heavily on his cane to greet his esteemed guest.

“Hello, sir. It’s a thrill to meet you in person,” Mr. G effused in a raspy tone.

“Likewise,” Pierce replied, shaking his hand.

Pierce waited for Mr. G to situate himself in his burgundy brocade chair beside the fireplace before taking the corner seat on the sofa. They passed a few minutes with idle conversation one would expect to have with a celebrity.

Mr. G told him how much he enjoyed his movies and claimed to be a big fan. Pierce thanked him and declined Enid’s offer of coffee or tea, flashing a megawatt devil-may-care grin that reduced the usually sensible nurse to a puddle of goo. Another ho-hum exchange later about the weather and how nice it was to enjoy a crackling fire on a cool morning later, I realized this was going to fizzle with a photo any second now.

I was right.

Janet butted in to remind Mr. Gowan that Mr. Allen was an exceedingly busy man. She wasn’t rude, per se, but I kind of wanted to smack her. Mr. G didn’t have the luxury of time on his side. He deserved to savor precious occasions. And damn it, I still wasn’t sure how to finagle that selfie without fangirling all over him.

This wasn’t about me, though. This was Mr. G’s show.

Pierce whispered something to Janet, who inclined her head and asked Enid for a glass of water for herself and maybe coffee for the entourage. Enid practically stumbled over her own two feet, jumping and taking coffee orders. Cream? Sugar? Sparkling water or still? Janet suggested they follow her to make it easier. Enid started to refuse, but caught on that Pierce wanted a moment alone with Mr. Gowan.

I was positive I’d get roped in to helping in the kitchen, but they forgot about me or simply hadn’t noticed me trying my darnedest to blend in with the books and bric-a-brac. Any other day, I might have been insulted, but today…I had a front-row seat to history in the making. Okay…that was dramatic, but c’mon, this was exciting shit.

“You’re sure you don’t want a cup of coffee or tea?” Mr. Gowan asked.

“No, thank you.” Pierce crossed his legs and continued conversationally. “So…you knew my mother?”

“Yes. We were cousins.”

Pierce bolted forward, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Really?”