“Never mind,” he muttered, his expression becoming closed and unreadable once again.
To her consternation, before she could ask anything else, her cell phone rang. She plucked it out of her pocket, noted the identification of the caller flashing on the tiny screen, and swore silently to herself. Knowing she couldn’t possibly take this call in front of Brad, she pointed to the exit. “It’s a girlfriend. I’m going to take this over at the guest house, okay?”
“Fine. Whatever.” He was still glaring at the computer monitor, as disgruntled as if they had never made love.
Lainey walked quickly through the house and went outside. “Hello?”
Sybil’s voice came over the line in a near screech that Brad surely would have been able to hear if they had still been in the same room. “Tell me we are not being scooped!” Sybil said.
Lainey swallowed. She was courting disaster here on so many levels.
“Do you know who the mystery blonde is?” the editor demanded irately.
“I think I have an idea,” Lainey muttered, knowing she had done the unthinkable for a reporter—she had become part of the story she was covering.
“Was Brad cheating on Yvonne with this woman while they were on the show?”
Lainey glanced out the window and saw Brad striding toward the barn. “I’m sure he wasn’t.”
“You have proof? Or you’re just guessing?”
“Proof.” Sort of.
Lainey watched as Brad led one of the virgin heifers out to a pasture located well away from the one where Tabasco Red was grazing.
Silence. “You want to share those facts with me?” Sybil asked tensely.
“When I turn my article in.” Lainey hoped by then she would have Brad’s cooperation in what she was trying to do for him.
“I’m counting on you to get this story for me, Lainey. Our future career success depends on it.”
“I know.” Lainey just wished she weren’t in such an impossible situation.
“In the meantime, you asked me to see what I could do to get you access to the producers. Well, I couldn’t get you that, but I did manage to get you an interview with the show’s creator, Gil Hewitt, on behalf of the magazine.”
Lainey reached for paper and pen, elated by the coup. Sybil was really helping her out here. “When and where?” she asked.
“Sunday afternoon. You’re to talk with Gil, half an hour before you talk with Yvonne. Same hotel.”
Well, that was easy. Almost too easy. Lainey wrinkled her brow. “They’re going to be there together?”
Sybil paused to say something to her editorial assistant, then returned to Lainey. Paper rustled. “Apparently, Gil and his staff are doing taped interviews of potential contestants for the next season. They have set up some publicity with local newspapers for past stars—apparently Brad was asked but declined to participate.”
No surprise there, either, Lainey thought.
“Apparently, the show is attempting to do a little damage control. High ratings of the finale have given way to skepticism about whether people can really find love on a reality TV show. Anyway, Yvonne’s going to tell everyone that despite the way things turned out, she would do it all over again, because falling in love…just the hope of a real and lasting romance…is worth it. Blah, blah, blah.”
Yes, Lainey thought, true love was worth it. Even if she didn’t quite believe that was the case for Miss Yvonne Rathbone.
“I’M JUST GOING TO GO GET the computer games Lewis said I could borrow for the weekend,” Petey told Lainey on Saturday afternoon.
Lainey knew once Lewis and Petey started talking software they’d lose all track of time. “I want to be on the road in ten minutes,” she warned. “Tell Lewis that.”
“Okay.” Petey rushed into the house to find the computer-game whiz.
Lainey and Brad were left alone in the guest house as Lainey continued packing up the items she wanted to take back to Dallas. “You’re sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Brad asked as he watched her fill a wicker basket with laundry that needed to be done.
Wishing she weren’t already head over heels in love with Brad—and she suspected that he felt the same about her— Lainey shook her head. In addition to the fact that she knew Brad had a lot to do on the ranch, she needed a little distance to be able to research the story properly. He drove her to distraction when they were in such close proximity.
She still didn’t have her car back, but Annie McCabe was letting her borrow one of their ranch vehicles. “Petey and I need to be home for a night or two. I’ve already asked Bunny to inform the Realtor not to bring anyone through while we’re in Dallas this weekend, and I’m taking Petey over to see his cousins tomorrow and spend the day with Bart and Bunny.”
“Are you sure that’s wise—under the circumstances?” Brad asked.
Touched by his concern for her, Lainey nodded. She’d been thinking about what Claire McCabe Taylor had told her about the emotional and financial costs of lawsuits, and knew she had to give the situation more time to resolve on its own. She wasn’t sure yet whether that made her naive or wise, but she knew they would find out by the summer’s end, if not before.
Lainey was glad she had Brad on her side. She felt safe and secure and protected by him. He made her feel she had someone to turn to in the storms of life, and that made all the difference. It was helping her regain her serenity.
“I don’t want Petey to feel caught in the middle of this conflict between his aunt, uncle and me,” she explained, taking Brad’s hand in hers and holding it tightly. “We might not be getting along all that well at the moment, but we’re still family and always will be. Petey needs to know that with time and patience—and a willingness to compromise—families can work out their problems.” She was sure it would be worth it in the end, no matter how much grief she endured in the process.
He looked down at her admiringly. “You have a lot of grace. You know that, don’t you?”
“I’m trying to do the right thing—for everyone,” she said, knowing it was what her late husband would want her to do. And she was trying to do right by Brad, too. She just wished she hadn’t gone about it the wrong way. But Lainey had given her word to follow through on this story. And somehow, some way, she had to carry through on those promises, and discover and make public the truth. And when the time was right, either just before or just after Brad had his reputation back, she had to muster all her courage and come clean with him. Knowing all the while that he might never forgive her if she confessed what had brought her to the ranch in the first place.
If he weren’t so darn mule-headed and full of the McCabe pride, of course, her job would be a lot easier. But no one ever said life was trouble-free.
Lainey smiled, knowing that soon Brad would have his good name cleared of all wrongdoing. Despite his efforts to the contrary. “We’ll be back first thing Monday morning.”
“Hurry home.” He brought her to him for a slow, sensual kiss before she could head out the door.
Home? Lainey thought with wonder as she melted into the warm shelter of his body and kissed him back, as thoroughly and tenderly as he was kissing her. Was that what the Lazy M was to her now? She only knew she wanted it to be.
“LAINEY CARRINGTON, here to see Gil Hewitt,” Lainey told the clerk at the Fairmont Dallas hotel the following day.
“We’re expecting you.” The clerk handed over a pass. “You’ll need this to get past the security guards on the fourth floor.”
“Thanks.” Lainey walked past the groups of beautiful young women congregated in the lobby. It was obvious they were here to interview for the new episodes of Bachelor Bliss. They looked nervous and on edge. Knowing what the experience had done to Brad McCabe, Lainey was tempted to stop and tell them all not to do it, but realizing she was already in too deep as it was, she kept right on going.
The fourth floor was also a beehive of activity. Lainey got past security, and made her way toward Gil Hewitt’s
suite. She was almost there when a short, thick-waisted man garbed in clothing fit for a tropical safari stepped out to greet her. He had a scarf around his neck and a ridiculous hat on his head. She recognized him instantly. “Mr. Hewitt? I’m—”
“I know who you are and you’re late.”
No, she wasn’t. She was fifteen minutes early.
“Do you think we have all day to get through these auditions?”
Lainey swallowed. “I…”
Gil shut the door behind them. Lainey realized for all the attention the other staffers were paying, they might as well have been alone. “You’re very beautiful.” Gil’s gaze roved her face, hair, moved slowly over the tailored linen pantsuit she had on. “But if you want to get anywhere with a bachelor, you should wear a sexy dress. Cleavage is always nice.”
Pig. Aware she was learning firsthand how future contestants auditioned, Lainey merely smiled and said, “I’ll remember that.”
Gil steered her toward a stool set up in front of a photographer’s backdrop. “Take her picture and get her basics.”
Again, Lainey tried to set the record straight. Gil Hewitt cut her off before she could say a word. “Honey, I already told you, we’re behind enough as it is. So just do what you’re told and we’ll get along fine.”
Was this the treatment all potential contestants received? Lainey wondered. Two minutes later, she was up off the stool and headed toward the door with Gil at her side.
“Mr. Hewitt…” Lainey began again.
“Call me Gil.”
“Gil. I’m here to—”
“Don’t worry, honey-buns. It’s a lock. You’re in.”
Lainey blinked. “I am?”
He whispered in her ear, “I knew the moment I saw you that you were my type. Sophisticated, pretty.”
And not at all interested in you. Lainey did her best not to recoil as she caught a whiff of his garlic breath. “Did I mention I’m also the widowed mother of an eight-year-old son?”
He blinked. Thought it over briefly. Shrugged. “Fantastic. Viewers will love it.”
He looked at her with obvious interest. Too smart to actually touch her in an inappropriate way, but telegraphing his rather creepy intentions nevertheless. A shudder went through Lainey. So this was what it was like to be sexually harassed on a casting couch. Not pretty.
“And I’m not here to audition for the show,” Lainey continued, suppressing her desire to knock Gil Hewitt flat on his keister. She smiled. “I’m here to interview you for Personalities Magazine.”
Gil stiffened. “Well, why didn’t you say so?” He looked irked.
“I tried.”
“You have five minutes.” He guided her through another doorway, to a small sitting room with desk and chair.
Lainey set her tape recorder on the table and switched it on. She wanted audio backup for anything she wrote down. “I want to talk to you about Brad McCabe and Yvonne Rathbone.”
A second passed. Gil assumed a beleaguered expression. “Poor Yvonne. He really did her wrong.”
Lainey looked at her list of prepared questions. “Rumor has it that it’s the other way around. Yvonne did Brad wrong.”
For a second Gil didn’t move at all. “Who told you that?” he asked finally.
Aware she had hit a nerve, Lainey shot back playfully, “Now, Mr. Hewitt, you know I can’t tell you that.”
He dismissed her theory with a frown. “It’s rumor.”
Lainey leaned forward. “How can you be sure? Did you see everything that went on between the two of them?”
“Yes. Cameras are on one hundred percent of the time.”
Not according to Brad. Which meant Gil Hewitt was lying. And if he was lying about this, what else was he lying about? Lainey was about to ask another question, when Gil abruptly declared the interview over.
“So you talked to Gil Hewitt, too,” Yvonne Rathbone said, when Lainey caught up with her. The red-haired beauty looked stunning in a white eyelet-lace sundress.
Lainey smiled, admitted this was so. She put her tape recorder on the table between them in full view and asked a few softball questions as warm-up. Yvonne told her everything she had already said countless times to reporters.
“Did you know anything about Brad before the night you all met him?” Lainey asked.
Yvonne shook her head. “They wouldn’t tell us anything! We didn’t even see a picture of him.”
Lainey looked at her questions. “The first moment you said hello and kissed Brad McCabe’s cheek, it looked like you whispered something in his ear, and Brad laughed in response. Care to tell Personalities readers what that was?”
“Oh, I just said, ‘This is so stupid!’”
Okay, Lainey thought, that was the generic flirtatious response. Except… “Weren’t you afraid Brad would be offended by that, given that he was there to find a wife?” she asked curiously.
“Well, everyone knew Brad wasn’t the kind of guy to tolerate such foolishness.”
“But I thought you said none of you knew anything about him, at that point.”
“We didn’t. But we—I—could just tell that was what kind of guy he was by looking at him,” Yvonne amended hastily.
Lainey pretended to accept her answer as truthful, even though she knew there was no way anyone could have leaped to that conclusion in the fifteen seconds it took for Brad and Yvonne to lay eyes on each other and walk toward each other for the first time. “Can you tell me what happened the day Brad broke up with you—on camera?” Lainey asked, turning to the next page of her notes.
In front of her she had the transcript of Yvonne’s retelling of the event on a network show.
“Well.” Yvonne sniffed. Her chin trembled and tears appeared in her eyes.
Lainey watched, spellbound, as Yvonne recounted, word for word, pause for pause, sniff for sniff, even eye dab for eye dab, how Brad had come in, snarled at her and left. It was a verbatim account of everything Yvonne had said before. Which could mean it was all a lie, as Brad said, and Yvonne had memorized it in order to keep her story straight. It could also be that she had told it so many times to so many people and reporters that she had unwittingly memorized her recounting. Bottom line, it was all very dramatic and damning, and if Lainey didn’t know a lot more had gone on than what was currently being reported, she would have believed Yvonne and loathed Brad, too.
Lainey moved on determinedly. “Back to Gil Hewitt, the show’s creator, and the producers. Did you all get along?”
“Oh, yes.” Big smile. “Famously, as a matter of fact. They were very nice to all of us.”
“No one got special treatment?”
Yvonne paused, looking like a deer in the headlights. “Not that I saw,” she said finally.
“I like Gil, too.” Lainey followed a hunch to see where it would lead. “He’s very, um, friendly, isn’t he.”
For the first time that afternoon, Yvonne’s smile faltered, then faded all the way. “What do you mean?”
Lainey leaned confidentially close. “I heard he propositioned a number of the girls on the show.”
Emotion flared in Yvonne’s eyes. Jealousy? “That’s not true!”
Lainey sat back in mock surprise. “So he didn’t proposition you?”
“He—of course not. Nor did he proposition anyone else,” Yvonne reiterated stiffly.
“My mistake,” Lainey said. “Now, about your background. I understand you went to San Diego State. And you were interested in theater there?” Another hunch that would be easy enough to follow through on.
“I did a few plays,” Yvonne admitted proudly.
“So you wanted to be an actress!” Lainey pretended to be deeply impressed. “How did you end up in marketing and sales instead?”
Yvonne sighed, lowered her guard. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get an agent…?”
By the time Lainey left the hotel, she thought she had a pretty good idea what had happened. But having an inkling wasn’t the same as
having the facts. She needed a firsthand account from someone she could trust. The question was, would Brad give it to her?
“I DIDN’T THINK you were coming back until tomorrow morning,” Brad said Sunday evening when Lainey arrived at the ranch, a sleepy Petey in tow.
“I thought there would be less traffic this evening,” Lainey replied.
“I wanted to come back,” Petey said, yawning as he got out of the car Lainey had borrowed from Annie McCabe.
“I’m glad.” Brad smiled, looking very happy to have them there.
Lainey’s heart skipped a beat as she opened the guest house door and turned on the lights. She gazed down at her drowsy son. “Run on in and brush your teeth and get ready for bed, honey. I’ll be in to say good-night in a minute.”
“Okay.” Petey turned and went back to Brad. He wrapped his arms around Brad’s middle. “Night.”
Brad hugged Petey back with a warmth that filled Lainey’s heart.
“Night, son.” He turned to Lainey. “Want me to carry your belongings in?” he asked as Petey disappeared into the bathroom down the hall.
Lainey glanced at the car. “No. That’s okay,” she said hastily. “I don’t have much. I’ll get it later.”
Brad grinned, teasingly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were hiding something in there.”
She was. Her notes on the interview work she had done earlier in the day were tucked beneath the clean laundry in the wicker basket. “Ha-ha,” she said, wishing she didn’t want to forget everything else that was going on, throw herself in Brad’s arms and kiss him madly.
“It was lonely around here without you and Petey,” he said.
Lainey had been lonely, too. Conflicted. Guilty. Torn between her need to see justice done and have a career, and her need to cater only to Brad, to heck with what anyone else thought. But that wouldn’t serve Brad or her need to put the truth about the goings on at the Bachelor Bliss show out there.
“Well, we’re back now,” she said. The amount of uneasiness and guilt she was feeling told her she had no future as a double agent. But then she had never wanted to be a spy. She wanted a future as a reporter.
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