Page 1 of Shine For Me

June

My earliest clear memory is of a camera flash going off in my face while a bunch of strangers shouted my name.

I was probably three or so, not that it really matters. It’s an experience that I would have had long before I could possibly remember, and one that I continue to have to this day. To this very moment, in fact.

“Juniper!” One of the photographers yells. “This way!”

“Over here, Miss Cain!”

“Who are you wearing tonight!”

“Can we get a shot of both of you?”

A hand lands on the small of my back and I do my best not to physically react in front of the crowd of paparazzi. I’m pretty good at pretending I’m not affected by things—I guess that’s kind of a requirement of the job.

“Miss Cain! Mr. Ransome! Over here!”

Fox Ransome’s hand tightens ever so slightly on my back and I have to fight back a shiver. It would be a lot easier to pull off unaffected if he didn’t smell so damn good.

“Shall we take bets?” Fox murmurs in my ear, close enough for me to hear the rasp of his voice over the continued shouts of the photographers. “How many headlines tomorrow?”

I quickly scan the crowd of men and women holding cameras. It’s a big turn out tonight—not at all surprising considering the event—and it’s not just the usual assortment of gossip mag photographers and freelancers hoping to get picked up by the celebrity blogs. Jimmy Cain’s 75thbirthday is notable enough to garner attention from actual news sites.

“At least five,” I tell Fox, and he makes a scoffing noise.

“Total low-ball guess, Cain,” he says. “I’m saying closer to ten.” He expertly angles us to give the photographers on the left a better view, and I smile in that direction without even thinking. This has never been my favorite part of my job, but it’s a hell of a lot more enjoyable when Fox Ransome is at my side.

Most things are a hell of a lot more enjoyable with Fox at my side.

“Shall we put money on it?” I ask. “Twenty bucks to whoever is closest?”

He chuckles, looking down at me, and another flurry of flashes goes off. Damn it. That little move right there probably brought the number closer to his guess than mine.

“You’re on. Terms?”

“The headline has to use the term royalty,” I say. “Not just mention our families.”

He grumbles a little under his breath, the gorgeous smile never dropping from his face. “Fine,” he says. “I still say you’re going down.”

Shortly after the first time Fox and I were photographed together, we noticed a pattern in our tabloid and internet coverage. Apparently, the people who write headlines love to point out that we both come from “entertainment royalty.” Cain is the most well-known and influential name in Hollywood, while Fox’s dad, Daltrey Ransome, is the lead singer of one the most popular bands of the last quarter century and co-owner of a major record label. Magazine editors go crazy when we’re out somewhere together. We’ve been the subject of some truly ridiculous headlines over the past two years.

Hollywood Princess and Her Rock and Roll Prince?

America’s Sweetheart Stuns Red Carpet with Rock’s Bad Boy.

Match Made in Entertainment Heaven: Cain and Ransome Together Again

You’d think eventually they would get tired of pushing that same angle, but so far, there’s no sign of it slowing down. It’s a given that we’ll appear on news sites tomorrow, even with the sheer number of celebrities and Hollywood bigwigs attending this party. It remains to be seen how many of them will hit the “industry royalty” angle, but I like my chances for winning the bet.

A woman in a headset gestures to us, and I let out a sigh of relief. The next set of show dogs are here for their turn to preen for the cameras.

If I’d been hoping for a chance to relax once we got inside the hotel lobby, I was fooling myself. We’ve barely walked three feet when we’re approached by a portly man with slicked back hair and a blindingly white smile.

“Well if it isn’t Hollywood’s favorite pair!”

I experience a brief moment of panic. I have no idea what this man’s name is, but his face is familiar enough that I’m assuming I should know him. To my great relief, Fox holds out a hand, grinning broadly. “Mr. Booker, so good to see you again.”

Rapidly I flip through my mental Rolodex of boring Hollywood people I’m supposed to know and it hits me. Lou Booker, a mid-level financier. He’s not the top of the heap as far as Hollywood money guys go, but he’s powerful enough that you don’t want to be on his bad side.