Aspen Gold Read Online Free PDF

caution.
    Fame and fear had become almost synonymous; a sign of the times, Kit decided, a little soberly.
    "Bert's bringing the limo up." Dan Somers motioned at the stretch Lincoln driving onto the concrete apron. "As soon as I check on your luggage, we'll be ready to roll."
    "Sounds good."
    With a saluting wave, the bodyguard moved toward the rear of the aircraft where two of the ground crew were off-loading their bags.
    "I thought Abe and Nolan were going to meet us when we landed." Chip frowned absently. "I wanted to go over the preliminary shooting schedule with them. Nolan's got it way too tight."
    "They probably got held up at the house." The limo came to a stop well clear of the aircraft. Taking Kit's arm, John guided her toward the car.
    "Wait a sec, Kit," Maury called.
    Looking back, Kit saw Maury, his short legs quick-stepping to catch up with them. She disengaged herself from John's hand. "We'll be right there," she promised, then turned to wait for Maury.
    He halted in front of her. Forced by his short stature to look up to nearly everyone, including Kit, Maury Rose had long ago adopted a tilt to his head that was blatantly aggressive, lifting his big, hooked nose in the air and allowing his deep-set eyes to fix their gaze on the person before him. It was that great beak of a nose combined with his New York accent and his tightfisted way with a dollar that had prompted people to believe he was Jewish.
    Some years ago, he'd admitted to Kit that he was no more Jewish than Billy Graham.
    But shortly after coming to Hollywood, he'd discovered that actors liked the idea of their agent being Jewish, believing it meant he would bargain harder to get them a good deal. So, operating on P. T. Barnum's adage of "Give the people what they want," he'd stopped denying he was Jewish and started closing his office on Yom Kippur and Hanukkah, accepting invitations to bar mitzvahs for studio executives' and producers' sons, and eating his eggs and bacon at home and ordering lox and bagels in restaurants.
    Without question, Maury Rose belonged in Hollywood.
    "What is it, Maury?" Kit asked, her curiosity aroused by the determined expression he wore.
    "It's about this bash tonight." He tucked his arm inside hers and headed in the general direction of the limo, his pace deliberately unhurried. "I want you to stay glued to Travis from the time you leave the house until you get back."

    "Don't you think that could get a little awkward?
    Especially if he asks some other woman to dance or goes to the men's room?" she countered with a perfectly straight face.
    "Be serious, Kit."
    "Why?" She grinned. "You're serious enough for both of us." She could tell he was not amused.
    "Okay, I'm serious. You want me to be John's Siamese twin tonight."
    "I do. W is covering the party tonight as well as P. If anybody takes a picture of Travis, I want you in the shot. Hang all over him if you have to, but make sure you're close enough that they can't crop you out."
    "Right." She nodded, feeling more and more like a veteran of the publicity game--and not particularly liking it.
    "Good." Maury rushed on, "Now, this Davis woman's getting some other interviews lined up for you. Mostly local stuff.
    "Hometown girl makes good"--that sort of thing. We'll go over them once they're firmed up."
    Kit sighed inwardly. She'd hoped that after tonight's charity benefit, she'd get a respite from all the interviews and photo sessions--at least for a few weeks until the filming actually started. The publicity blitz had started a month ago when she'd signed the contract to play the role of Eden in White Lies. At first, all the media attention had been fun and exciting. Now the pleasure had begun to wane. She wanted a break from it, but it seemed that wasn't to be.
    John Travis stood beside the limo, watching their slow approach and feeling again an old run of irritation for that squat toad of an agent Maury Rose. A sound like a sigh came from Paula Grant. She was watching