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As soon as they were twenty feet away he spoke, and his voice was throaty, like Rod Stewart. Tracy immediately understood why she'd been chosen, she blended well with this voice, it was like Casey's had been. In fact so close he could play Casey in a movie if he wanted. "What was that all about?"

"Oh, nothing. In response to an overheard conversation last night, Michael hired Brianna what's her name as my agent without my permission. I know he's over worked, and I understand his frustration, but he can't just force an agent on me." She led the way to the stairs and clicked down them quickly, and then down a further flight, calling her mother on the cell phone to ask about Megan's fever.

When she got to the bottom, she stopped and listened. The cafeteria was down another twisty flight of stairs, and smells from it drifted up to them. Cafeterias were a must in Tracy's establishments. She hated restaurants. She needed the quick, on the go meal.

Her mother was sick; she needed to come home immediately.

She hung up and turned to Archer. "This isn't my day." She said. "I can only invite you to lunch at my house which is about ten minutes away. As much as I'd like to say I cook as well as the cafeteria here, I would be lying." She laughed, looking into his very blue eyes and watching that perfect mouth hoping he would say something else so she could hear the accent once again.

"Why?" Was his only reply and he cocked an eyebrow at her.

Cute... Tracy thought, very cute. "Because I have to go take care of my family who are home not feeling well." She had paused, anticipating his regrets, at the bottom of these stairs.

It wasn't quite the response he'd been expecting. But he answered it anyway. "Taking me home to meet the family, are you? I must have made a really good first impression." He joined her on the bottom stair, looking into her eyes with curiosity.

Seriously? Tracy wondered. Then she gave herself a mental shrug. Fine then, okay. Not what she expected either. She led the way through the underground tunnels at Rocks, built in to avoid the press completely. She explained as they went, answered another call from Michael and then spoke also to Leo, took another call from Danny asking if they could go out on the beach and play, and then they were being escorted to her car, which Jake would drive.

Obviously used to bodyguards, Archer ignored Jake, which Tracy never did. It was a short drive to her house, and Tracy questioned Archer about his career, his experience, the animated Disney they would be doing together, and what he liked to eat for lunch, and how he'd feel about eating it on the beach?

As she got out of the car, she asked Jake what he wanted on his sandwich also, and Archer's eyebrow rose another notch in surprise. "We're going out on the beach to eat, want to come?"

Jake nodded. "Are you going to be inside for a few minutes?"

Tracy nodded. "It takes me awhile to fix PBJ's, Jake." She quipped.

He indicated his suit with a look. "I think I'll go change."

"Bring the cool Frisbee." She said enthusiastically.

As she entered the small condo from the garage, Archer stepped up into the kitchen. "I didn't bring anything to change into. Don't suppose you have...."

"Actually I do." She answered. "I habitually collect guy clothes, I'm sure I have something that will fit you." And she did. She dashed up the stairs, amid cries from the twins and Danny's delighted greetings, and rummaged in her closet till she found what she was looking for. A small plastic Rubbermaid tub with her beach clothes collection. She brought it out, turned to see if Archer had followed her, knowing he had, and shoved it across the floor at him. He was looking at her pictures on top of her dresser.

"Here." She said, and from her kneeling position, gave Danny his morning hug and his afternoon hug. Archer barely looked at it. He was staring intently at the framed photos, nodding. The 8x10 of Raine, another of their family a little over a year ago, at Christmas, in front of the fireplace in Park City, the day Richard had left.

"Your husband? The one who died saving you guys from the fire?" he indicated with a small jerk of his head as he eyed her in concern.

Tracy pursed her lips. "Tactful, Archer." She said. "You might think bringing it up would be a taboo subject. Considering how well you don't know me."

He cocked his head at her, considering. "I would actually." He said, leaving the dresser, much to her relief. "I'm sorry. But that is your husband?"

She nodded curtly, got up and hefted Danny into her arms.

"Can we go out on the beach and play, Momma?" He turned her chin to face him, as he always did to keep her attention.

"I think beach play is definitely in order." She said. "Go get your shorts."

As she let him down and he scampered off to obey her, she turned to Archer. "I'll just let you change." And she disappeared down the stairs to check on Nancy and the twins, thinking off handedly, that it was the second time today she'd had a strange guy in her room.

Nancy declined an invitation to join them at the beach. It was February, and even though it was sunny outside, that cool dampness off the ocean didn't tempt her. Tracy also invited Lorraine, who still glowered, remained curled in her comforter strewn bed talking on her cell phone to General Colby.

Minutes later, Tracy, dragging a food and towel laden wagon, emerged from her gated, secured, little community with her handsome new friend in tow, as Danny raced across the sand and the twins squealed from their perches inside the wagon, Megan, of course, trying to climb off even as the wheels rolled into the mired sand and Archer and Tracy laboriously lifted it up into the air.

PBJ's, juice, sand and cookies; a rousing game of water Frisbee, several sand castles and a lot of splashing later, Danny settled in with his little cars to make a race track, and the twins nursed and went down for naps. Archer, mainly quiet, in fact so quiet that Tracy forgot he was there, watched in fascination and trepidation as Tracy herself, now clad in a modest black one piece suit, salt-water matted tawny hair starting to blow in the afternoon breeze, settled her head on her bent arms supposedly watching Danny, drifted off as well.

His eyes narrowed speculatively. Leo had said it would do his career good to be seen with and around this woman, but so far she had done nothing to gain them any undue press. In fact, she was asleep on the beach like any other normal exhausted mother of three. She spoke interestingly enough, was well educated, and had been through enough life experience to be fascinating, and she asked enough questions and shared enough stories to keep him involved and feeling comfortable. Why he had agreed to go with her to her home and then out onto the beach with her children was a move he would not ever begin to understand, it wasn't his cup of tea at all, not something he normally, or even abnormally did. Hanging out with a widow woman, on the beach with three young.... Well, it didn't figure, and yet he felt compelled to be with her. He felt that staying with her right now was an absolute necessity.

But apparently she was a completely different person than what he had expected. He had read the brochure about ABCSC while he was waiting for her to show up at Rocks. College educated, an illustrious career in film and music, a personal history that made a shrink see dollar signs. And yet, from her own account, (in the brochure) she was a church girl, she espoused no such evil vices as partying with Hollywood's elite. He shook his head.

That couldn't be.

He saw the tabloids. This girl was the center of attention nearly every day. Wild parties, kids taken away because of neglect, abuse, different guys all the time. Unstable. That's how the media portrayed her. Were they really that corrupt? They could make a good little Mormon church girl seem like Madonna? But wait, he'd seen her once, on stage, with Pepper's. She was wild... she'd been extreme.... Unbelievable...

Who was that girl?

Who was this girl?

He turned and looked at Danny. He was playing very close by, she could reach out and touch him if she wanted. Could it be considered neglect that she was asleep? But no... he was there. He thought about that. So.... He was babysitting? He chuckled to himself. Yes, he really was babysitting. She'd fallen asleep and entrusted him with her care, and the care of her three young children, and to be honest, he'd volunteered for it.

He glanced back out to sea. The day was hazy, sunny California haze kept the horizon indistinguishable. Where water met sky was a whitish blur. He could see the pier a mile down, could see the jetty another mile in the opposite direction. Her gated community was divided from the shore by a sidewalk and a small paved road and parking lot. There were perhaps only three other people in sight, laying out, and it wasn't all that warm, but it wasn't really cold either. Over in the parking lot, a van, that he knew was paparazzi was parked, and the door was open and two guys were conversing. They'd been there the whole time. He assumed she was aware that she was watched nearly every time she left her home. She must be okay with it. She had to know she was on the cover of a different rag-mag every day. Certainly she knew what they said about her. Then how could she portray herself as this other person in private?

He lay close enough he could lean over her and curl her hair out of her face. This he did and she stirred but didn't wake. Her lips twitched, but as he gazed at her, he perceived the dark circles under the golden lashes, like a mommy, a busy mommy. The woman who had walked into the office at Rocks, heels clicking, all business, firmly in control, was not the same girl that now lay on the beach, in a very...he ran a finger under the thick black strap of her bathing suit, and saw the frayed edges, the elastic coming apart. What in the world was she wearing? She managed to look as decent as Sandra Dee playing Gidget. Like a throwback to the late fifties. This girl was a walking, breathing, contradiction.

******