Page 142 of Blood Stone

Roman turned down one corner of his mouth. “An observation on how beddable you looked. But Gaelic is one of the most poetic languages in the world. Very precise. And he wasn’t being poetic. Much.”

Garrett raised his brows and looked at her sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Kate laid her hand flat on her laced-in stomach. Oddly, his earthiness had made her feelmuchbetter. “You’re going to have to teach me Gaelic. And Greek. I’ve forgotten everything I learned of Greek when I was there.”

“Ancient Greek, in Roman’s case. He’s a die-hard purist.” Garrett pulled out his cellphone and glanced at the time. “Limousine is waiting. So are a bunch of opportunistic paparazzi. It’s time.”

Roman cracked his knuckles. “Showtime.”

“Literally,” Garrett added.

Kate smiled at them. “Thank you. Both of you. Thank you for doing this. I really don’t know how bad this may get, but the last few weeks haven’t been a picnic, either.”

“You noticed, huh?” Roman said. He was smiling.

Garrett hit the back of his shoulder with the heel of his hand. “You’re a lying sack of shit, Roman. You’ve loved every second of it.” He looked at Kate and cocked his head toward Roman. “He’s been asked out on more dates and had more offers of marriage since this thing broke than in the last century. And he’s totally getting off on being called…” He paused, recalling headlines. “‘A brooding Greek alpha mystery man.’” Garrett frowned. “Where do they come up with this crap? Mills & Boon?”

Roman was grinning. “He’s jealous. They’re still recycling the same headlines they’ve been using for him since before the dawn of time. He’s just a financial whizz. Nothing sexy about him at all.” He held out his arm. “Shall we?”

Kate took his arm, trying to control her laughter. She managed to keep herself to an insane grin that wouldn’t quit, as Garrett moved ahead to the front door and rested his hand against the latch. “Ready?” he asked.

She nodded.

He opened the door and they stepped out.

Instantly, the cameras began to pop and flash and questions were called out. They ignored them all and Garrett and Roman helped her carefully down the steps and into the waiting limousine. They tucked her train in, climbed in on either side of her and shut the door.

The limousine driver backed out through the open gates. “Evening, Ms. Lindenstream,” he said as he drove. “They’re hungry tonight.”

“It’s the Emmys, Roger. I guess it’s always a little crazy on awards nights.”

He backed onto the street and the media pressed up against the windows, the cameras firing volleys like multiple machine guns. “They’re gonna get ‘emselves an injury at this rate.”

“Slow and steady, please, Roger. A civil suit is the last thing I need right now.”

“Right you are.” He nosed the car forward until they were clear of the crowd and Kate let out her breath.

As the car accelerated, Roger raised the dividing glass, giving her privacy. She looked at the time display in the console in front of her. “One down, the big one to come. Only six hours and forty minutes to go until I can turn back into Cinderella again.”

* * * * *

Her guess that she was one of the draw cards for the evening was right. As soon as Roger pulled up and they stepped out of the car, an Academy representative hurried over to greet them, carrying a big clipboard.

“Ms. Lindenstream, you’re here. Good. I can show you to the marquee entrance.”

Kate tested her theory. “I usually just duck in that way.” She pointed to the public entrance that the non-stars, production people, cast and crew used.

The escort looked alarmed. “Oh, but we have interviews set up and the press will want to talk to you and…” She halted, glancing at Garrett and Roman. Roman was grinning, enjoying the escort’s heavy-handedfaux-pas.

“Yeah, I get it,” Kate said. “Which way?”

The escort smiled happily and hurried on ahead of them. They stepped onto red outdoor carpet. Acres of it. It led them into a wide, red, roped-off tunnel lined with tall posters with the Academy’s logo, as a backdrop for the cameras. On the other side was the press gallery. Strung out along the carpet were the stars and their escorts, posing for photos, calling out to journalists, answering questions and smiling for the cameras.

There were bright lights everywhere.

“I didn’t count on the lights,” Garrett said in an undertone.

“I didn’t bring sunglasses, either,” Roman shot back.