Chapter Twelve
Quinn was exhausted. The last five days had taken its toll—both physically and emotionally—and as he swung the car into his parking spot at Burnham Beeches an overwhelming lethargy weighted his limbs. It was as though he had come home. There was real warmth here. It was different than it had been in past years. Now he found a gentle humanity where he could forget about the agents and the actresses, the directors and the financial backers his industry spewed at him every day. It was the fakery that got to him the most. The hair. The makeup. The calculated glances. All he wanted was a pair of emotion-filled green eyes to understand his pain.
Even the seriousness of the last five days had not been enough to keep them at bay. He was news and when he landed on the front page of
