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right to close down the production or prevent release if costs spin out of control or the movie is a dog that would damage all of our reputations."
    "Fair enough. You won't regret this!" Exultant, Rainey hugged first Naomi, then Marcus. She'd gotten everything she wanted—and she prayed she didn't live to regret it.

 
     
     
    Chapter 3

     
    By the time Rainey reached home, her exhilaration had been joined by a healthy dose of terror. Dear God, after all her hard work and planning, she was really going to be able to make her movie the way she wanted to! This was a tremendous opportunity—and if she blew it, she might never get another chance.
    At least she didn't have to risk her house by financing the movie herself. She'd bought this canyon cottage with her first real money, and it was the truest home she'd ever had. Tucked into a secluded corner of Laurel Canyon, the simple cedar structure was fragrant from tangy eucalyptus trees that shaded it and brightened by sun-baked drifts of drought-resistant flowers. She'd fallen in love the moment she drove onto the property.
    Luckily she'd trusted her instincts and not sold the cottage when she married Kenzie. At heart she'd known their hasty marriage wouldn't last, so she'd rented out her place to a charming pair of production designers who'd taken good care of it. They'd just bought a house of their own when she left Kenzie, so she'd been able to come home. It had been like finding refuge in the embrace of a beloved friend.
    Kenzie hadn't been in the cottage often, so she had few memories of him here. They were uncomfortably happy memories—she'd had no idea he knew how to make great salads until a poignant day when he'd helped her pack her most personal possessions—but the house had remained hers, never theirs. The Broad Beach estate had briefly seemed like it was joint property, but no longer. In the best civilized fashion, each of them was taking from the marriage exactly what they'd brought in, and no more.
    She entered the living room and kicked off her high heels. The shoes rolled across the polished oak floor, one coming to rest on the thick, richly colored Tibetan rug splashed in front of the fieldstone fireplace. That rug figured prominently in her memories. With his uncanny perception, Kenzie had known she was a little sad to be leaving her loved home. He'd seduced and made love to her with exquisite tenderness, reminding her why she'd taken the terrifying leap of faith into matrimony.
    By the time she reached her bedroom, she'd stripped off her Armani suit. After hanging it in the huge closet, she paused to study the famous poster of her mother that hung above the love seat. This was the clearest image she had, since her childish memories were blurred by time.
    Clementine at the height of her fame had been all passion and fire, a candle burning at both ends. Her wild mane of red hair was backlit by spotlights as she sang her signature anthem, "Heart Over Heels," a searing confession of a woman who fell in love too often, and always gave away more of herself than she could afford to lose.
    I'm making it, Mama. I'm achieving success on my own terms without destroying myself. Her mother probably would have been glad to know that. But would she have approved of the tense, wary creature her daughter had become?
    Rainey peeled off her stockings and slipped into cutoff jeans and a black T-shirt with a picture of the Buddha on the front. Then she flopped onto the waterbed and reached for the phone. Who to call first? Since her personal assistant, Emmy Herman, the world's greatest organizer, was out of touch on a sailboat with her husband, she'd call her coconspirator in Maryland.
    She hit the autodial button. When her friend picked up on the second ring, she said, "Val, it's me. How are things in Baltimore?"
    "The sun is shining, the weeping cherry is trailing gorgeous pink blossoms outside my kitchen window, and how did it go?"
    Rainey grinned. Val Covington, a friend