She dropped the tabloid and turned to flee, but they’d trapped her. She tried to back up, but they were behind her, in front of her, surrounding her with their hot strobes and heartless shouts. Their smell clogged her nostrils-sweat, cigarettes, acrid cologne. Someone stepped on her foot. An elbow caught her in the side. They pressed closer, stealing her air, suffocating her…

Bramwell Shepard watched the nasty scene unfold from the restaurant steps next door. He’d just emerged from lunch when the commotion broke out, and he paused at the top of the steps to take it in. He hadn’t seen Georgie York in a couple of years, and then it had only been a glimpse. Now, as he watched the paparazzi attack, the old, bitter feelings returned.

His higher position on the steps gave him a vantage point to observe the chaos. Some of the paps held their cameras over their heads; others shoved their lenses in her face. She’d been dealing with the press since she was a kid, but nothing could have prepared her for the pandemonium of this past year. Too bad there were no heroes waiting around to rescue her.

Bram had spent eight miserable years rescuing Georgie from thorny situations, but his days of playing gallant Skip Scofield to Georgie’s spunky Scooter Brown were long behind him. This time Scooter Brown could save her own ass-or, more likely, wait around for Daddy to do it.

The paparazzi hadn’t spotted him. He wasn’t on their radar screens these days, not that he wouldn’t have been if they could ever catch him in the same frame with Georgie. Skip and Scooter had been one of the most successful sitcoms in television history. Eight years on the air, eight years off, but the public hadn’t forgotten, especially when it came to America’s favorite good girl, Scooter Brown, as played in real life by Georgie York.

A better man might have felt sorry for her current predicament, but he’d only worn the hero badge on-screen. His mouth twisted as he looked down at her. How’s your spunky, can-do attitude working for you these days, Scooter?