Beau was surprised he could put one foot in front of the other, much less form a halfway coherent thought. He was glad his agent, Dan Leventhal, had his fingers clamped firmly around Beau's elbow, guiding him. And that he, Beau, himself had done enough public kiss ass things that he could flip his switch to automatic. He smiled as they walked the rest of the way to the room where the event was being held, nodding to people.
And all the while one thought kept running through his brain.
Fuck! Sarah York here? Right here in Tampa?
He blinked for a moment, wondering if he'd just conjured her up, since she'd been on his brain every night for the past six years. But no, when he glanced at her, crowding against one wall with some of the staff, he saw people chatting with her, some shaking her hand. She was real. Definitely real.