by Jean Oram
He was lonely, looking for a fling, and she was the first woman to catch his eye.
Talk about overconfident, if he thought taking her to a concert would convince her to fall into his bed or allow him to exploit her abilities as a photographer. She’d seen him eyeing her photo card, and the rich and famous were always the stingiest. They seemed to believe she should be honored to photograph them pro bono, as if having them in her portfolio was a privilege. Yeah, well, little did they know that she’d won plenty of photography contests and awards without their ugly mugs. Contests that helped pay the bills.
Flopping down in front of her laptop, Hailey clicked the upload button to send new photos to her agent, Cedric Zimmerman. He often sent her a biweekly laundry list of requested nature photos from magazines, knowing she had no interest in capturing celebrity dirt when it came her way. But now she had dirt. Well, maybe not dirt, but dust at the very least. And she wanted to sell it. Fast.
She clicked to add the photos she’d taken with her phone that afternoon, then shook her head. At one point she’d thought she’d seen a glimmer of humanity in Finian’s eyes. But that was ridiculous. He was the kind of man who charmed and played the game until he got what he wanted. But he wasn’t going to get it from her. He could whisper in her ear in a way that made her nerve endings perk up, but there was no way Hailey was going to fall for his games. Love her? Leave her? No way.
Not now. Not ever.
The way he exuded confidence and sexuality made him just like all the other rich boys she’d met growing up. The summer men. So full of themselves it made her want to slap them in order to bring them down a notch and prove she was more than some plaything to make their pretty lives even easier as they vacationed in their fancy cottages, then left when the summer ended with never a glance back.
It was her time to come out ahead.
Hailey finished the upload and sat back, popping a mint Mentos in her mouth. She checked the time. She could show up at The Kee to Bala. See what he’d do. She let out a chuckle. It might be funny, watching him try to recall who she was, and if he had really invited her. Because by the time the concert rolled around he’d probably have tried to get into three more skirts with the lure of the tickets.
And if Hailey did manage to get inside, she’d ply him with drinks and wait for him to be the man she knew he really was. Then she’d whip out her camera phone, take some unflattering images and sell them. Ta-da! Cottage saved. Happily ever after, while he blissfully resumed his car-crash life.
A message from Cedric popped up on her monitor. Calling you.
Yes!
She snagged her ringing phone.
“Tell me the good news,” she said. She held her breath and swiveled her chair back and forth, trying to burn off her excitement.
“What are these shots?” her agent asked.
“What do you mean?” She drifted into a nearby armchair she’d picked up from the antique barn on Highway 118.
“You’re a nature photographer. A good one making decent money for your stage of the game. For someone making art.”
“And?”
“Don’t go blowing your reputation with some half-done celebrity shots.”
Ouch.
“These are as good as what I’ve seen online.”
“What are you doing, Hailey? We’ve spent years getting you into good galleries. I know I hounded you on this whole art thing, but why are you going this route now that you’re making a name for yourself and winning awards? Do you need money for some drug habit I don’t know about?”
“You sell shots like this all the time, right?”
Cedric hesitated. “I do, but I don’t understand.”
“Can you sell these?”
He sighed, and she could picture him tugging his ear as he thought how to reply. “You need to shoot a story, Hailey. There isn’t a story in these. There’s a learning curve to being a celebrity chaser, believe it or not. So, if you are in need of cash, maybe we can set up another show, or find a magazine. Want me to call National Geographic?”
“Yes, but there is a story.” She needed more than some small show, months down the road, or a few photos for National Geographic. She glanced through the pictures she’d selected. They were all beautifully lined up. The light had held out for most of them and the one of Finian rolling up the vintage Jag’s window was only a bit grainy because of the clouds, rain, and distance. The one of him holding the door to the bar was slightly blurry because he’d slapped her butt. But the tabloids never seemed to care about quality.
“A man rolling up a car window. Holding a door open for someone. These aren’t stories.”
“But it’s a total contradiction,” Hailey protested. “Surely that’s exciting?”
“Would you buy a magazine with these on the cover?”
“No,” she said with a sigh. “But I’d be intrigued.”
“So, be intrigued. Even celebrities who lack manners can hold a door open for someone, Hailey. You need to capture shots of him doing unbelievable things.”
Funny, she thought she had.
She narrowed her eyes, staring at the images of Finian. He was a mystery. One she needed to uncover and reveal to the world, one photo at a time. There was a layer he was hiding, and she’d expose it while giving him a nice big dose of reality. Oh, and making herself rich in the process.
“I’m on it, Cedric. In fact,” she said with a chuckle, “he’s expecting me.” And how much more perfect could that be?
Finn sat at the small desk in his rented cottage and stared at the blank page framed in sunflowers in front of him. Sighing, he pushed away his nonexistent plan for pulling Sugar Toes into his devious scheme to get into the tabloids with a new adventure. Instead, he picked up the old guitar he’d had delivered to his room. It looked as though it belonged to one of the employees. Well-worn. Stickered. And completely out of tune. Just the way he liked it.
He adjusted the sound to match his mood, his skills. He glanced at the card Sugar Toes had given him. Hailey Summer. Pretty name. He couldn’t believe he’d gotten in this deep without knowing it. Hailey. He liked the way her name rolled off his tongue.
Focusing on the out-of-tune instrument, he ignored how he was slowing down the song as though smothering it. He played “Drooping Flags” by Vapid Magpie, knowing they’d sing it tonight. He played the simple riff again, and again. It was easy enough. If he stuck with the bass, he could almost make it sound untortured.
Almost.
Would Hailey show up tonight? Or would she chicken out? Would he be the man waiting outside the hall to see if he had been rejected? But the bigger question was, why had he so willingly put himself in this position? People waited for him, not the other way around. She hadn’t even tried to turn the tables on him. It was as though he’d taken all his power and control, put it in a nice little shopping bag and handed it to her.
He put the guitar away, no closer to having a plan. How could he convince someone like Hailey to use her photography skills against him?
He walked to the window and stared out at the dark blue lake, rocky shoreline and wind-worn trees. If he’d been smart, he would have stirred her up, leaving her ticked off and longing for him. Then her anger could do the rest.
He punched the air, then shoved his hands through his short hair. He needed her to go paparazzo on him. Asking her out had been stupid, stupid, stupid. Derek was right; Finn shouldn’t be here alone. Left to his own devices, he’d never get into the tabloids.
Finn paced the room, head down, thinking. He was sure he’d seen a desperate need within Hailey. He’d thought it was for money, but when he’d asked if she did portraits, she’d said only when she was hard up for cash. And she hadn’t leaped at the chance to work with him. Hadn’t gone all breathy and said Yes! Instead, she’d thought he wanted nude photos. He let out a laugh.
Talk about assuming opposite things.
So was she a bad businesswoman? Or was having a movie star in one’s portfolio
not as big of a deal as he’d thought?
Maybe she was famous in her own right. Maybe she was an incredible, sought-after photographer and he’d insulted her. He touched her card, letting his fingers linger over her name. How many run-ins had they had today? And he’d been so tuned out that he hadn’t even asked her her name--not once. How had he gotten used to knowing people before he met them, all of them famous? Or else having people immediately introduce themselves, eager to get on his radar? How had that become normal?
He was losing little things from real life, like introductions. How to carry on a conversation. How not to be a self-absorbed jerk.
Reality was a sweet reminder of how far he’d climbed. But his new life left him living in a land where nothing was real.
He snatched up his phone as it rang, hoping, for some strange reason, that it was Hailey.
“Finian?” asked the female voice.
His mother.
“Mom, how’s it going?”
“I prayed for you at church today.”
“Why?” he asked, cringing. There were so many things for her to pray about. She read the tabloids, and while she was usually able to write another story for what was pictured, sometimes she couldn’t.
“For your broken heart. Why don’t you come home? I’ll bake cookies. We’ll walk Rex. We’ll talk. You must be exhausted.”
“Mom, my heart isn’t broken.”
“You were with her for over a year. Of course it is.”
“Mom, did it look like I was actually in love with Jessica?”
“What do you mean?”
“Hey, here’s an idea. Why don’t you and Dad join me here?”
“What would we do with Rex? I read the papers and they said--”
“I was in the papers?”
“Last week. This week it’s just one-liners here and there saying you’re hiding out from the pain. Come home. We’ll take care of you.”
Finn pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mom…” He tried to be patient. “I’m okay, really. And don’t believe what you see in the papers or hear on the news. Any of that. I’m still me. I’m still your boy.” Well, mostly.
“My boy who lost his manners. Your hands were all over that girl.”
Uh-oh. He knew that tone of voice. He stared at the ceiling, trying to figure out which woman his mother might be referring to. It could have been anyone during the blitz he’d gone on after his breakup. Derek had been elated and said it was the best news he’d heard all week, and that Finn’s royalty check would show a nice blip as a result of that bender.
The next day Finn had booked his trip to Canada.
“You know the things you see in the tabloids are usually staged, right, Mom?”
“I had one tough time explaining that to my church group.”
Finn swallowed. The wrath was coming down.
“You know that photo was taken out of context?” he said, buying time, cringing, wishing he could hide.
“I doubt she needed first aid applied to her nether regions, Finian.”
He let out a short laugh. Yeah, he knew which photo his mother was referring to. He felt his cheeks heat. Not his finest moment. Well, unless you were Derek; then you had that one framed and hung as a fabulous publicity stunt.
“Mom, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Finn rubbed his hand down his face. This was seriously the absolute worst part of being famous.
“I think you need a new agent. One who doesn’t encourage this kind of behavior. I was talking to Adrian and he said you would do very well with therapy.”
Finn’s brother, Adrian, had been there the night Julian died in his arms. He knew what Finn had been through and knew what he was trying to accomplish with his publicity and fame. And yet, Adrian--who Finn had put through rehab, and then college--always sided with their mother in the quest to straighten him out. If they wanted him to keep bailing them out for their medical bills and student loans, someone had to pay the price. They couldn’t have perfect, famous Finian Alexander and have their financial worries cared for at the same time.
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Mom.” Finn made his voice firm. “But you need to realize that this is the nature of being a movie star. I’m okay with it, so you shouldn’t let the stories bother you, either.”
“They are untrue, Finian. They’re slandering you. Creating an image of you that is false! This man in the papers is not the boy I raised. You are better than this.”
“Without the tabloids I’d be a nobody, Mom. I’d become that guy who everyone forgets or wonders what happened to.”
“Quit complaining about what you don’t have, and enjoy what you do have. You hear me?”
He sighed. He never won these battles. Ever.
“So, then…” He could feel his mother switching gears, and braced himself a little too late. “Have you met anyone nice in Canada? I hear they wear skirts that cover their goodies.”
“Yeah, you’d like her. She slapped me across the face.”
His mother clucked. “Already?”
Finn laughed, letting his tension fall away. His mother had forgiven him, and saw the humor in how he was caught between two worlds.
“Yeah. She’s got me on the run.”
“Sounds like you need to come home and get a refresher on manners and how to treat a woman.”
“I have a date with her tonight. If I’m lucky, she might even show up for it.”
4
Hailey parked her car and, biting her lip, grabbed her purse before she could talk herself into hurrying back home. She had to squelch the intrigue she felt about Finian, and the only way to do that was to hang out with him. Analyze him. Oh, and take photos to sell him out and save the cottage.
Right. No problem.
She nudged her car door closed with her hip, swishing her gray-blue skirt out of the way. With nervous hands she adjusted her necklace and ran a palm over her straightened hair. She joined the crowd that was tumbling out of a bus in front of The Kee. If Finian wasn’t already in line they’d never find a place to sit. Although if they did manage to snag a table, they’d spend all night trying to keep it instead of hitting the dance floor, which was her preference. Hailey had to admit it would be pretty cool to dance with a movie star. Assuming he even showed. And danced.
Finian stepped out of a massive cluster of people, waving to her. Hailey’s heart hiccupped and she gave him a small wave back. There were a lot of women around Finian. Like, half of the population of Bala. And they had all turned to see who he’d waved at.
Hailey wasn’t sure she was going to enjoy hanging out with him all night if these women were going to be sizing her up every second.
Finian stepped out of the throng and grabbed her hand, yanking her into the warmth of the group. What the heck. Might as well make the most of stalking him. She smiled and let her hand linger in his.
“You look hot.” His dreamy eyes sparkled, and she had to force herself not to reach out and touch his cheek.
“Thanks.”
Hot. Not pretty.
She was in the limelight. With a movie star. At a concert. People were talking about them, heads bent together, trying to figure out who she was. Taking surreptitious photos with their phones.
What had she been thinking?
As if sensing her desire to run back to her car, Finian gripped her around the waist, pulling her into the big building as the doors opened.
Her head felt light. He was touching her. He’d called her hot.
Wow, that was really messing with her head. Big time.
He headed to the bar, setting her up with a drink. She sipped it carefully, promising herself she wouldn’t go along for the ride and be his date. This was business. She had to keep her wits about her.
But, oh, he was amazing, and even better in real life than he was on film. He still hadn’t shaved, and the way his eyes were set off by the dark stubble on his chin made her want to stare into them for hours.
She looked away, then found herself draw
n back to his eyes. There was something consuming in his intense gaze. Primal. As if he had plans for her. Plans that involved getting her into compromising positions.
Hailey studied her leather sandals, tapping the toes together. Normally, she’d run if she got anywhere near a man like this. He was too distracting, making it too easy to get consumed and forget about your own life. Your own needs. Your own wants. He was someone who would love her and leave her, like all those boys who had tempted her and her sisters all through their high school summers.
She was already in too deep with him. She already wanted whatever he was willing to offer.
“What?” Finian asked, his eyes flicking over her face. “What’s wrong?”
She smiled and waved off his concerns.
What did it matter, anyway? He’d never…she’d never…
And anyway, all those easy women fawning over him would surely be the ones he’d take home. Not her. Hailey was safe.
She almost laughed at herself. How had she believed even for one second that he’d choose her instead of the bosom babe trying to get his attention?
Oh, right. Because he’d asked her to come with him.
Maybe he thought she was an easy target. Or wanted free head shots.
It was probably that.
She could say no to free head shots.
“Do you like to dance? The band’ll be starting in a minute.” He lightly touched her elbow, eyebrows raised in question. Nervously, she strode to the spot he’d pointed to, near the stage. Turning, she waited for him to catch up. He was slowly making his way through the crowd as people paused to say hi, offer compliments, and generally distract and waylay him. Hailey rolled her eyes and turned to watch the band’s roadies set up, ignoring the way Finian’s broad shoulders cut a path, his moves relaxed and confident. There was something about the way he dressed casually in worn clothes that made him seem so real, so “boy next door.”
She wanted to know what he looked like under that faded T-shirt, and how he moved those denim-clad hips when they were free of cotton. She closed her eyes and told herself to stop thinking about him that way. Finian Alexander wasn’t going to take her to bed. And anyway, she’d say no before she played the fool. It would be all right. All she had to do was enjoy the night and live a little while she waited for him to be the screwup he was.