The Fairmont Hotel was only a block farther. Glancing up and down the street and assessing the passing pedestrians quickly, she determined that everything looked as it should. Foot traffic was light. Yvette dipped her head back into the car.

“We’ll walk from here. It’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Kimberly asked, her voice faltering for the first time.

Yvette offered her hand to the girl and pulled her out of the car. “I’m sure. Let’s go. You don’t want to be late for your own party.” She slammed the door shut, then tapped on the passenger window, keeping her other hand on her charge’s arm. The driver lowered the window instantly. “I’ll call you when we’re ready to be picked up.”

The hill was steep, but Yvette knew there was a side entrance to the hotel which was halfway up the block, and within seconds they reached it. She preferred side entrances anyway—it was a better way to escape attention, and for certain the front entrance of the hotel would be teeming with autograph hunters and photographers.

“Here.” She ushered Kimberly through the side door and along a narrow corridor until it widened into a large opulent foyer, attesting to the hotel’s turn-of-the-century roots.

Yvette’s eyes scanned her surroundings. Waiters and waitresses passed through the area as did well-dressed people. She noticed the stares Kimberly received and knew that people recognized her. Whispers drifted to Yvette’s ears as they passed.

When she found the hall in which the premier party was to take place, she noticed the security at the door and let out a sigh of relief. At least the movie studio had provided some additional security to screen the arriving guests and check IDs.

Yvette flashed her Scanguards ID.

The guard nodded then beamed at Kimberly. “Miss Fairfax, may I just say, I really liked your movie. You’re so talented. Do you think I could have an autograph?”

He reached into his jacket pocket, putting Yvette on instant alert as she shifted into fighting stance, ready to strike him down. When he pulled out a postcard with Kimberly’s face on it, Yvette relaxed marginally.

“Of course,” Kimberly cooed and autographed the picture before turning to the door.

The hall was filled with several hundred people. By the looks of things, no expense had been spared. The room was decorated with still shots from the movie, overblown images of Kimberly and her male co-star, some twenty-something kid too handsome for his own good, and champagne fountains all around.

Waiters circulated with hors d’oeuvres and trays with different beverages. Yvette declined the offer of a drink at the same time as Kimberly snatched a glass of champagne off one of the trays.

“Aren’t you having any?”

“You forget I’m on duty.” Besides, champagne wasn’t her preferred drink. While she could ingest liquids if she had to, she liked something much darker and richer altogether.

“Yes, but don’t make it look like that. Mingle. I don’t want people to know I have a bodyguard. It looks so desperate. People might think I’m too high and mighty; I want to be seen as approachable. People should love me.”

Yvette refrained from rolling her eyes and shrugged. “Let them think what they want. I’m here to protect you.”

“I’m grateful, really I am, but I need a little space.”

Yvette swallowed her next remark. “Fine.” She could observe from afar. With her superior vision and hearing she could tune into any conversation in the room and scan for anybody approaching Kimberly. So when her charge stepped away from her to greet one of her many friends, Yvette didn’t pursue; instead, she stood to the side where she could watch the happenings in the ballroom.

The elegance of the people in the room was stunning. Everyone had outdone themselves, almost like at the Oscars. For the first time, Yvette was grateful for Kimberly’s insistence that she wear a dress. Comparing her outfit to that of the other women in the room, she realized she fit in. At least nobody would take any notice of her.

Slowly, her eyes scrutinized the crowd, intent on ferreting out anyone who could become a danger to Kimberly, when something in the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned her head. The man who’d just entered the room and now looked around as if searching for somebody didn’t fit in. Even though he wore an elegant suit, he looked as if he’d squeezed himself into it against his will. He looked more rugged than handsome, and his broad frame spoke of strength and power. Not an actor, definitely not.

His dark hair was a little longer than was currently the fashion, and his shirt was open at the collar, even though it appeared he’d worn a tie earlier. In fact, the item in question bulged from his jacket pocket. Not a movie executive either—he’d be used to wearing ties.