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spa hadn’t seen him and didn’t have any appointments scheduled that day—would I like one?

I considered; my knotted neck cried out for a massage and my nails were a wreck, but I had too much work to do to spare the time.

The day was beginning to heat up, the thick fleece of Caribbean humidity only sporadically interrupted by the flicker of a breeze as I trekked to the golf course on the far side of the property. No one had seen him there either.

Sweat trickling down my back, I descended the hill to the dock, where the fishing boat was just shoving off. I shaded my eyes against the morning sun and spotted Francisco waving wildly to me from the stern. I could make out Cole behind him, fiddling with a fishing line.

So the asshole was taking the guys fishing for the day and hadn’t invited me.

I stalked back up the hill straight to the spa and had a ninety-minute Swedish massage followed by a mani-pedi, then spent the rest of the day working from my laptop on a cushioned lounger in the shade of an umbrella by the shimmering pool, uninterrupted. Regardless of my feelings about being left behind, I had to admit it was heaven. I nearly did a happy dance when the concierge who delivered my second strawberry smoothie and shrimp ceviche informed me that storms in Miami meant the rest of the cast and crew wouldn’t arrive until the following morning.

I made sure to retire to my quarters for the evening before the boat returned. The light on my room phone was blinking with an earlier message from Francisco. “I’ll work all day if you want. Anything not to go out and murder fish,” he pleaded. I felt bad I hadn’t heard the message sooner, but oh well. At least he’d been invited.

I lit one of the coconut-scented candles in my room and indulged in a long bath staring out at the placid sea, then ordered room service and set up camp in my cloudlike bed with a new romance novel from the secret stash I kept in my suitcase. I’d die if anyone ever found out about my guilty pleasure, but it was just that—pleasure. And escape, obviously, as my life was about as far from a romance novel as you could get. I didn’t have the time or bandwidth for real-life romance these days, and besides, my taste in men had been proven to be terrible. I preferred to love vicariously through vivacious Vivian and her brooding boarder Benjamin. He had rippling muscles and a secret, and they would doubtless consummate their forbidden romance in an explicit encounter beneath a palm tree on a deserted beach, as I had specifically chosen this novel for its fitting Caribbean setting.

I knew I needed to get to the bottom of what the hell had happened last night but figured there were better times to approach Cole than when he’d doubtless been drinking all day. I’d do it tomorrow.

Only, now it was tomorrow, and I still hadn’t quite worked up the courage. I realized, as I floated on my back staring up at wisps of clouds, that there was never going to be a good time to ask my boss what I’d done while I was blacked out. Problem was, I’d stopped taking birth control a few months ago because I wasn’t having sex regularly enough to deal with how crazy the hormones made me. Worst-case scenario, if I had in fact slept with him and God forbid he didn’t use a condom, I needed a Plan B pill and an STD test, stat. Could I even find a Plan B pill in this country?

I needed to talk to him now.

September 21, 2007Nova WeeklyCover Story: Stella Rivers Attacks Photographer

Actress Stella Rivers was photographed accosting a photographer outside the Brentwood Women’s Clinic in Los Angeles on Wednesday afternoon. Rivers emerged from the clinic at 2:40 p.m. to find a throng of paparazzi waiting for her. The Golden Globe–nominated actress was clearly upset and grew further agitated when the photojournalists began asking questions. She then allegedly shouted a string of expletives before shoving one of the photographers and hurling his camera to the sidewalk. The photographer, whose name has not yet been released, sought treatment at a nearby hospital and will reportedly press charges against Rivers.

The Under the Blue Moon actress married her Faster costar Cole Power in Las Vegas just over a year ago, but sources close to the couple say their marriage has been on the rocks for some time. It was earlier reported that the reason for their discord was that Rivers wanted to start a family while Power wasn’t ready, but according to our source, the opposite is true: Power has been the one with the desire to start a family while Rivers is more interested in her career. A friend of Rivers speaking anonymously revealed to us exclusively that Rivers was at the women’s clinic to undergo an abortion that Power was against, while Power sought consolation in Miami with their mutual friend Hannah Bridges, who reportedly tried to convince Rivers not to end her pregnancy.

Stella

By the time I left the beach, I was beyond famished. It was midafternoon, and I hadn’t eaten a thing since we left Miami at the crack of dawn. I knew I needed a workout more than a sandwich, but I was beginning to feel faint in the heat and my pills were wearing off, leaving me edgy. Clutching a sleeping Mary Elizabeth to my chest, I followed the signs for the restaurant along a shaded path and up wide wooden stairs around a wall of water spilling from the edge of an infinity pool.

I emerged from the leafy greenery into the full glare of the sun just as an oversize man cannonballed into the pool, splattering me with water. I took off my sunglasses and wiped them on my caftan as a production assistant who couldn’t be more

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