needed to clean.
Her cell phone rang. "It's Cole," she muttered, reading the caller ID.
"I thought you weren't seeing him anymore." '
"I'm not." She'd broken it off with the cameraman the week before, just after her disastrous visit to Fly Without Fear for Dummies. True, he'd been a casualty of her shame over failing at that venture, but he was due to take a hike anyway. She'd been with him for a month, hadn't yet met anyone new, but she'd grown bored. "I admire persistence in a man," she told Linda, setting the phone to pick up the call automatically. "Only not after I'm done with them."
"Ms. Hamilton!"
Ilana's head jerked up. That's when she noticed the white news van with the satellite dish on top.
"Hell. What do they want?"
"Probably a few questions answered about Holt," Linda assured her. Tell them how decadent you think he is."
"Yeah, right." Ilana lowered her voice. "I didn't think there would be that much interest in him. Not enough to warrant a van and a news crew. A phone call, maybe." She was an independent filmmaker. She made films on impossibly small budgets. She operated on the fringes of Hollywood, her chief purpose being to get her movies made the way she wanted to make them. The press didn't follow that type around.
A woman in a mint-green Tahari suit, a killer manicure, and a microphone in her hand waited in front of Ilana's car. Oh, no. It was Rose Brungard. She hosted "Rose Knows" a small-scale version of Entertainment Tonight, focusing on hot celebrities and the parties they attended.
Ilana made sure her eyes remained mostly hidden behind a tangled curtain of curls. Whatever her opinion of Holt, she wasn't going to feed a gossip's curiosity. The man deserved his privacy, she thought, aiming her remote at the silver Lura she'd parked at the curb.
Rose's perky voice startled Ilana. "With official word reaching Earth today that Prince Ian Hamilton has chosen a wedding date, Ilana Hamilton, twin sister to the man who will become ruler of the entire galaxy, remains the last of Earth's newest royal family to remain unclaimed."
"Un-what?" Ilana blurted.
The woman thrust her microphone in Ilana's face. "Who might Earth's Cinderella-heiress choose?"
Linda mercifully wedged herself between them, but the reporter leaned sideways, and pressed her attack. "The word on the street is that you'll soon announce your engagement, Ms. Hamilton. Who is your lucky guy? Or should I say, your lucky prince?"
"I'm not going to marry a pr— "
Linda reached behind her back and pinched Ilana's thigh. "Ms. Hamilton has been instructed by her family not to comment on the subject at this time."
To Ilana's dismay, the reporter appeared charmed by her silence, forced as it was, and not at all put out by Linda's intervention.
"This is such a Cinderella tale! Would you be willing to appear on the show? We'll do an interview, tour your home." Rose turned to her cameraman. "We'll need a shot of her in the kitchen, cooking a romantic, alien dinner for two," she suggested.
Ilana's vision blurred, either from hunger or from shock. Linda was inching her toward her car door.
"We look forward to having you on the show, Ms. Hamilton," Rose called. She winked. "And to finding out who your lucky guy is."
"But there is no— "
Before Ilana could finish, Linda shoved her into the Lura, locking her in and scurrying around to the other side. Linda leaped into the passenger seat.
Ilana looked at her. "Aren't you going to buckle my seatbelt, too?"
"Drive," Linda ordered. "Before you talk yourself into trouble."
"With you or them?"
"Drive."
Ilana started the engine. As she pulled into the street, she tried to smile at Rose, though she suspected it looked more like a grimace.
"Why did you have to say that, Linda— that I've been instructed on what to say? No one has instructed me in anything. That's only going to whet their curiosity."
"It's already whetted, Ilana. It has been for months. Only now that the guests have been
Her cell phone rang. "It's Cole," she muttered, reading the caller ID.
"I thought you weren't seeing him anymore." '
"I'm not." She'd broken it off with the cameraman the week before, just after her disastrous visit to Fly Without Fear for Dummies. True, he'd been a casualty of her shame over failing at that venture, but he was due to take a hike anyway. She'd been with him for a month, hadn't yet met anyone new, but she'd grown bored. "I admire persistence in a man," she told Linda, setting the phone to pick up the call automatically. "Only not after I'm done with them."
"Ms. Hamilton!"
Ilana's head jerked up. That's when she noticed the white news van with the satellite dish on top.
"Hell. What do they want?"
"Probably a few questions answered about Holt," Linda assured her. Tell them how decadent you think he is."
"Yeah, right." Ilana lowered her voice. "I didn't think there would be that much interest in him. Not enough to warrant a van and a news crew. A phone call, maybe." She was an independent filmmaker. She made films on impossibly small budgets. She operated on the fringes of Hollywood, her chief purpose being to get her movies made the way she wanted to make them. The press didn't follow that type around.
A woman in a mint-green Tahari suit, a killer manicure, and a microphone in her hand waited in front of Ilana's car. Oh, no. It was Rose Brungard. She hosted "Rose Knows" a small-scale version of Entertainment Tonight, focusing on hot celebrities and the parties they attended.
Ilana made sure her eyes remained mostly hidden behind a tangled curtain of curls. Whatever her opinion of Holt, she wasn't going to feed a gossip's curiosity. The man deserved his privacy, she thought, aiming her remote at the silver Lura she'd parked at the curb.
Rose's perky voice startled Ilana. "With official word reaching Earth today that Prince Ian Hamilton has chosen a wedding date, Ilana Hamilton, twin sister to the man who will become ruler of the entire galaxy, remains the last of Earth's newest royal family to remain unclaimed."
"Un-what?" Ilana blurted.
The woman thrust her microphone in Ilana's face. "Who might Earth's Cinderella-heiress choose?"
Linda mercifully wedged herself between them, but the reporter leaned sideways, and pressed her attack. "The word on the street is that you'll soon announce your engagement, Ms. Hamilton. Who is your lucky guy? Or should I say, your lucky prince?"
"I'm not going to marry a pr— "
Linda reached behind her back and pinched Ilana's thigh. "Ms. Hamilton has been instructed by her family not to comment on the subject at this time."
To Ilana's dismay, the reporter appeared charmed by her silence, forced as it was, and not at all put out by Linda's intervention.
"This is such a Cinderella tale! Would you be willing to appear on the show? We'll do an interview, tour your home." Rose turned to her cameraman. "We'll need a shot of her in the kitchen, cooking a romantic, alien dinner for two," she suggested.
Ilana's vision blurred, either from hunger or from shock. Linda was inching her toward her car door.
"We look forward to having you on the show, Ms. Hamilton," Rose called. She winked. "And to finding out who your lucky guy is."
"But there is no— "
Before Ilana could finish, Linda shoved her into the Lura, locking her in and scurrying around to the other side. Linda leaped into the passenger seat.
Ilana looked at her. "Aren't you going to buckle my seatbelt, too?"
"Drive," Linda ordered. "Before you talk yourself into trouble."
"With you or them?"
"Drive."
Ilana started the engine. As she pulled into the street, she tried to smile at Rose, though she suspected it looked more like a grimace.
"Why did you have to say that, Linda— that I've been instructed on what to say? No one has instructed me in anything. That's only going to whet their curiosity."
"It's already whetted, Ilana. It has been for months. Only now that the guests have been
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