In The Cowboy's Arms. Vicki Thompson Lewis

that hadn’t stopped her from wanting to kiss him, especially when he flashed one of his megawatt smiles.

      Judging from the grim set of his mouth, he wouldn’t be doing that today. Usually he came in wearing his signature hat, a chocolate-brown Stetson with a turquoise-studded hatband. He favored snug T-shirts, faded jeans and scuffed cowboy boots.

      Not this morning. Instead, he’d pulled a generic baseball cap over his thick dark hair and covered his baby blues with aviator shades. He hadn’t bothered to shave. She’d never seen that beat-up denim jacket before, either, and he’d turned the collar up even though it was seventy degrees outside. The jeans and the boots were the same, though.

      Giving her glasses a quick polish, she smiled, then she put them back on and stood. “Hey.”

      “Ma’am.” He touched the brim of his cap in greeting, but he didn’t smile back.

      If he’d intended to create a disguise, he’d failed. The paparazzi were experts at spotting celebrities trying to look like street people. And Matt, bless his heart, would look hot as sin no matter what he wore. “Any troubles on the way over?”

      He shook his head. “Stayed with a buddy last night, which seems to have thrown them off the trail temporarily. Figured they might be watching my apartment building.”

      “I can send someone to check that out.”

      “I appreciate it, but I plan to avoid my place for a while so don’t go to any extra trouble.” Still no smile, and Matt was the kind of guy who looked for the humor in a situation.

      She’d always cherished that about him and hated seeing him so down. He might have exercised poor judgment yesterday, but she understood how that could happen with a costar like Briana Danvers. He was so new at the game. One big-budget movie in the can and another scheduled to start shooting next month meant he was on his way, but he was bound to make a few rookie mistakes in the process.

      That’s what PR reps like her were for—to repair those little whoopsies.

      He took off his shades and stared at her, his gaze bleak. “What now?”

      “We’ll work through it.” As she sat down, she gestured to the chair in front of her desk. “Have a seat.”

      “Thank you.” He lowered his muscular body onto the leather upholstery with a sigh.

      “Heard anything from Harvey?” She wasn’t crazy about Matt’s agent, who headed up a big firm and always seemed to be unavailable or out of the country. But the guy had negotiated the original movie deal and Matt had been signed for another potential blockbuster that would begin filming in a few weeks, so Harvey was getting his client work. That was the bottom line.

      “He texted me. Said I should relax, that it would all blow over.”

      “He’s probably right.”

      “I hope he is, but this has really thrown me for a loop.”

      “I’m sure it has.” And she was determined to help him sort it out, since Harvey had obviously dismissed the issue.

      Pulling off his cap, Matt tunneled his fingers through his hair. “I never expected Briana to behave like that or say those things about me.” The words were laced with pain.

      Geena wondered if she should have seen this train wreck coming and warned him. Briana was seductive, both onscreen and off. The poor guy had probably become lost in the fantasy. “It’s easy to develop feelings for a costar. You wouldn’t be the first and you won’t be the last.”

      “That’s just it. I knew I couldn’t let anything happen.” He sat forward in his chair, his expression tense. “First of all, she’s married, and second, her husband is Clifton effing Wallace, everyone’s favorite, including my mom’s. And mine, actually. He reminds me so much of the Duke.”

      High praise from Matt. Early on he’d told her that he knew all of John Wayne’s movies by heart and repeatedly watched them for inspiration. “It’s not the end of the world, Matt. Don’t beat yourself up for being human.”

      “No, ma’am, I’m not.” The chair squeaked as he leaned back and gazed at the ceiling. “I’m beating myself up for being stupid. A complete idiot.”

      Her heart went out to him. Had they not been separated by her desk, she would have squeezed his arm or given him a hug. Then she caught herself imagining that potential hug in far too much detail.

      She cleared her throat. “It’ll be okay.”

      “Eventually, I guess.” He met her gaze. “I’m sure Harvey has a point. But being called a home wrecker is humiliating. I can take it, but I hate that my folks will have to hear such things.”

      “They’re in Wyoming, right?”

      “Yes, ma’am. But they’ll have to face their friends and neighbors, and Sheridan’s a fairly small town. They’ve been so proud of me...” His voice trailed off.

      “Like I said, we’ll handle it. The key is to appear contrite and apologetic. Then I can set you up with some visually appealing charity work, like organizing a benefit for a local animal rescue organization. Fans will overlook this, especially if you seem sufficiently remorseful.”

      He went very still. “Surely you don’t believe I hit on her.”

      “What I think doesn’t matter. The media is running a picture of you kissing her outside a café in Burbank. We need to—”

      “I didn’t kiss her.”

      “But—”

      “She kissed me.”

      Judging from the mutual lip-lock Geena had seen in the picture, it was all semantics. “The specific details aren’t important. To be honest, getting labeled as a bad boy isn’t the worst thing that could happen, especially if we demonstrate that you regret your behavior. Up to now, I’ve promoted you as Hollywood’s fresh new face, a handsome guy with a squeaky clean rep. But fans may like discovering you’re not perfect.”

      His blue eyes lost all expression. “So you think I forced my attentions on Briana.”

      She would love to believe that he hadn’t at least invited that kiss, even if he hadn’t initiated it. The pictures were pretty damning. She understood why he wanted to put a different spin on the encounter, but that strategy could backfire into a he-said-she-said nightmare. “It makes no difference who started it. If we jump on the story right away we can take control of the narrative before it gets blown out of proportion.”

      “I see.”

      His icy tone made her blink. One glance at his face told her that a wall had gone up. She’d seen that protective shield a couple of times before and had thought the device would serve him well in a brutal business. But employing it against her was counterproductive. “Matt, listen. We can—”

      “Sorry, ma’am.” He stood and put on his hat and shades. “But I’m outta here.”

      “Wait!” She leaped up. “You can’t leave now. It’ll look like you’re running away.”

      “That’s fine with me.” He turned toward the door.

      “Where are you going?”

      “Home.”

      * * *

      The minute Matt stepped out on the sidewalk they were on him with their cameras, mikes and invasive questions. Must be a slow news day if someone had tracked him over here. Too bad he hadn’t called a cab. None were in sight, either.

      He shouldered his way through what felt like a mob, but was only five or six reporters, and sprinted toward the nearest bus stop. Three years of running all over town auditioning for commercials had forced him to memorize the public transportation system. There was a bus stop a couple of blocks from here. Thanks to a rigorous training schedule, he was in shape.

      He