While they watched what was unfolding on the screen, Garrett put the BlackBerry on speaker so they both could hear Don.
‘That’s just the tip of the iceberg,’ Don said. The excitement in his voice was palpable. ‘That little scene with the mousse has already gone viral on YouTube and is trending on Twitter. Kay Lake’s act was a stroke of genius, and Barker Blessing is now trying to convince everyone that it was all planned. You can’t expect the man not to take advantage of good PR, even if it’s at his expense. He didn’t get where he is by being stupid.
‘What’s more, there’s been a massive surge in sales, and my phone hasn’t stopped ringing with people wanting interviews with Tess Delaney, wanting her to endorse everything from hairspray to condoms to pick-up trucks. I have to say, Garrett, I thought you’d blown it, but the woman is a genius. I’ve sent an email to K. Ryde, but haven’t heard back yet. And I can’t get hold of Kay Lake. Any ideas where she might be?’
Garrett and Kendra shot each other a quick glance, and she nodded her OK. ‘I’m here, Don,’ she said, her gaze still locked on Garrett.
There was a moment of silence. Garrett could almost hear the man thinking the situation through, speculating as to whether Kendra had just arrived or if she had stayed over. Neither Kendra nor he gave anything away.
Then Don continued, ‘As for endorsements, well, I understand that’s a bit beyond the pale for the moment, but I think we will need to discuss interviews, Garrett. Strategically planned and done sparingly, they could keep the wave going, keep the sales rising, keep everyone on the edge of their seats guessing what Tess Delaney will do next. Certainly having her seen with Garrett Thorne was a spot of genius if ever there was one.’
Garrett bristled. ‘This isn’t part of the plan, Don. Tess has done what you asked of her. That was what we agreed on and nothing more.’
Don offered a nervous laugh. ‘I know, buddy, I know. But you have to understand, this is way bigger than either of us could have imagined, and I’m sure that K. Ryde will agree when he gets back to me. I just think it would be foolish not to take full advantage. A gift horse and all, you know?’ Before Garrett could do more than growl, he continued, ‘Look, all I’m saying is just think about it. Give me a chance to talk to Ryde and get back to you, and I’m sure we’ll figure out the best way to make this work to the greatest advantage for Tess.’
The line went dead, and Garrett and Kendra sat staring at each other. Garrett reached for the remote and switched off the television. ‘So what do you think?’ he said. ‘I mean, you are K. Ryde.’
She ran a hand through her hair and tightened the sash at the waist of the robe. In the kitchen they could hear the coffee maker gurgling out the last of the coffee into the pot. ‘Garrett, I work for Tess Delaney, not Don Bachman, and I think it’s up to you. You’ve done what was asked of you. It’s had better than expected results, and now I think you should do what you want. I mean, a huge part of Tess’s appeal is her mystique. The more public she becomes the more she risks losing that mystique. If you do decide to have Tess make the odd public appearance, then I’ll happily oblige, but the more I pretend to be Tess Delaney, the more risk we run of her really being outed.’
He tugged a strand of her red hair. ‘You think I should do what I want?’ He scooted closer and brushed a kiss against her parted lips. ‘Because I’m pretty sure you have a good idea of what I want right now.’
She made a half-hearted effort to pull away from him. ‘Garrett, this is serious business. I need to know, K. Ryde needs to know what to do next.’
He gently nipped her lip and felt her breath catch. ‘I understand that, Kendra, believe me, I do.’ He guided her hand to rest against the bulge barely contained by his straining shorts. ‘But I can’t think very well at the moment. If you could just help me out a little bit here –’ with his other hand, he slid open the bottom of the robe to reveal her lush thighs and beyond ‘– then maybe I could concentrate on business a little better.’
She forced an irritated sigh that ended in a soft giggle as he pulled her to him, shoving the robe open still further, exposing her breasts to the explorations of his lips and the cupping of his hands as he eased her back onto the sofa, wriggling his way in between her legs. He had just worried open the sash and slipped a hand down to cup her and stroke the unbelievable warmth of her when a loud crash on the front porch caused them both to jump. She jerked the robe back around her, and he shot up from the couch like he was spring-loaded.
‘What the hell?’ He scrambled to the door with her right behind him, tightening the sash of the robe as she went.
‘Wait, Garrett. Don’t open it.’
She reached for his hand, but it was already too late. He wasn’t thinking straight. How could he possibly be thinking straight when he had been just about to make love to Kendra Davis? He swung the door open wide and found himself, in nothing but his scant and somewhat bulging workout shorts, with Kendra barely covered in his oversized robe, facing a sea of reporters. Cameras flashed, the press surged, and before Garrett could close the door, someone shoved a microphone in his face, shouldering his way into the breach of the door. Garrett sought to recall his name. Mike Pittman, that was his name –Garrett remembered the irritating reporter from Dee and Ellis’s meeting with the press a few weeks ago.The microphone might have been in Garrett’s face, but Pittman’s eyes and the lens of the cameraman’s camera were focused on Kendra, hair thoroughly mussed from last night’s romp, still tying the robe that was clearly his, and looking more than a little like she’d just been caught in the act.
‘So it’s true, then,’ Pittman said. ‘Tess Delaney did spend the night with you after the Golden Kiss debacle?’
Debacle! That slimy little rat! ‘Get out of my face.’ Garrett’s voice was a dangerous growl, and he wasn’t sure what would have happened if Kendra hadn’t pushed her way front and center.
‘Mr. Pittman,’ she said, her voice way too good-natured for what Garrett was sure she must have felt. ‘The answer to that question is obvious. Where else did you think I would be on such an occasion?’ As if to demonstrate, she ran her arm through Garrett’s and smiled up at him.
‘And what about Barker Blessing?’ Pittman pressed on. ‘Have you heard from him? From his lawyers?’
‘I think you need to talk to Mr. Blessing about that.’ She stepped forward into the man’s personal space and forced him back with nothing more than the power of presence. ‘If you’ll excuse us, Mr. Pittman –’ she shot a quick look around, and offered a smile and a polite nod to the rest of the rabble ‘– everyone. Coffee’s getting cold.’ Her smile turned wicked. ‘I’m starving, and Garrett promised to make me pancakes.’ Then she stepped back and shut the door in the man’s face – not slammed it, just shut it – and turned to face Garrett, her back pressed against the door.
‘Make you pancakes?’ Garrett managed before she hijacked the conversation.
‘Rule number one,’ she said, before he could even utter the curse that was on the tip of his tongue. ‘Don’t give the press any reason to up the ante.’ She shrugged. ‘All right, you already blew that one last night, and this is the result.’ She nodded to the shuffling and mumbling they could still hear beyond the closed door. ‘This is why we needed things to go smoothly last night, and why we need them eating out of our hands now.’ She made her way into the living room and peeked around the edge of the curtain at the reporters on the lawn.
‘I blew it?’ he bristled, following her to the window. ‘You’re the one who dumped your dessert in Barker Blessing’s lap.’
And that was his fatal mistake. Would he never learn to hold his tongue around Kendra Davis? He could see the tension in her shoulders before she turned to face him. ‘It was dessert, Garrett, just dessert. Not your fist to the man’s face, not a lawsuit, not jail.’ She stood facing him with her hands on her hips, her eyes bright and fiery. ‘And would you have hit Pittman there, if I hadn’t stepped in?’
‘Oh, you’re a f
ine one to talk about not resorting to violence,’ he said, following her around the living room as she scooped together her clothing. ‘You, who nearly dislocated my jaw!’
She turned on him. ‘Oh pa-lease. You deserved it. You’ve deserved everything you got so far, and last night, well, if you’d have just let me handle it, then this –’ she stabbed a finger at the door ‘– wouldn’t be happening.’ She shoved off the robe and stood naked in front of him, tugging her panties up over her hips and then fighting her way into the green dress. And fuck, it was so hard to stay focused with her doing that. Did she do that on purpose – get his cock’s full attention so his brain wouldn’t work? She probably did. She was a bitch, he reminded himself. How the hell could he forget the number one fact about Kendra Davis? The woman was a bitch. Interact with her at your own risk. He watched her stuff her stockings and garter belt into her bag like they were the enemy, and he was sympathetic.
‘Where’s the back door?’ she said.
‘Through the kitchen,’ he replied, his brain still half occupied by her angry reverse striptease that had left him in a bad way. ‘Wait a minute. Where are you going? What are you doing?’ He followed her into the kitchen with her stumbling into her killer heels as she went. ‘Fixing it,’ she huffed. Then she fumbled in her bag for her iPhone. ‘Hi, Dee. You home? Can you come get me? I’m at Garrett’s.’ He was pretty sure Dee got the “don’t ask” warning in her voice. She’d have to be deaf and stupid not to. ‘Come around back. The alley yes. Now.’
Dee lived close. Garrett hadn’t planned it that way, but it was a nice neighborhood. Kendra shoved her phone back into her bag and headed for the door. Then she turned her attention to him. ‘You stay put. Don’t go out until I give you the all-clear. I mean it, or you can find someone else to fix your fuck-ups.’ Then she shoved her way out the back door, pulling it carefully to behind her. He’d expected her to slam it, but then K. Ryde wouldn’t slam a door, would she – er – he?
It was all he could do to keep from storming out after her and dragging her back so they could settle this, but no. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. He absolutely would not give her the satisfaction.
He half stormed, half limped over to the coffee machine, still sporting a hard-on that reached the counter before he did, a hard-on he had no intention of taking care of. He wouldn’t give it up to her even if he exploded.
He missed the cup with the coffee pot and poured steaming coffee onto the granite countertop – what he didn’t manage to scorch his hand with. Damn the woman. She was a scourge to femaledom. What had he done in a past life to deserve her? He gulped coffee, burnt his tongue, and cursed out loud. He couldn’t believe such a comedy of errors existed in the real world. This really was the kind of stuff that came straight from a Tess Delaney novel.
He couldn’t help himself. He made his way into his study, uncomfortable in the shorts, burnt on the tongue, and pissed off as hell. He opened up his laptop and continued with the synopsis he’d started the other night after he’d talked to Kendra, back when things were civil. For a brief second, he felt his chest tighten. He hadn’t wanted her angry. He had wanted her happy and sexy and pleased to be with him. He took a more cautious sip of his coffee, pushed the thought out of his head, and began to write like a madman.
He’d been writing for nearly an hour when he decided to check his email. After all, Don might have been in touch. At least that’s what he told himself. What he really was hoping for was an email from Kay Lake, one he had no intention of answering, of course – unless it was an unconditional apology begging forgiveness with the offer of sexual favors. The only email there, however, got his full attention and raised the hair on the back of his neck. It was from Razor Sharp.
Congratulations, Tess!
Of course, I’m not at all surprised you won. How could you not? You looked stunning last night, by the way. I was gripped. You were like the sun, Tess, like the sun.
Until you fucked Garrett Thorne. Don’t play stupid. Of course I know you fucked him. Everyone watching last night knows you fucked him.
That ruined it for me – ruined you for me.
How could you do it, Tess? Don’t you know what he’s like? Don’t you know he’s not for you? You can’t go about whoring with the likes of him if we’re going to be together. I won’t have you being a slut! You’ll have to pay, my darling. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to be punished for what you did to me. Then maybe you’ll understand nobody can satisfy your filthy appetites like I can.
Disappointedly yours,
R.S.
Before he had finished reading the message, Garrett called up Kay Lake’s number on the BlackBerry, which he gripped to his ear almost painfully. ‘Pick up, Kendra,’ he breathed. ‘Please pick up.’
When he only got her voicemail he said, ‘I need you to call me now. It’s urgent.’ He hung up and texted her frantically.
Once he’d sent his text, he called Ellis. He didn’t wait for his brother’s greeting. ‘Are you at Dee’s?’ He barely gave the man time for a yes before he ploughed on. ‘Is Kendra there?’ Another yes left him weak-kneed with relief. When he finally caught his breath, he continued before Ellis could ask. ‘Listen, I need you to tell Dee not to leave her alone. I can’t explain over the phone, but just tell her. And can you come over? Now. I need to see you, bro. It’s urgent. And Ellis, could you park around back and come in the back door? Quietly.’
He hung up, read the email one more time. The level of relief he felt at knowing Kendra was with Dee was nearly overwhelming. He hurried to his room and got dressed.
It had been a helluva 12 hours for Carla Flannery. It had taken all the pull she could manage to get into the Golden Kiss Awards, and even then she’d still had to pay for a ticket. There’d been speculation right up till the end as to whether Tess Delaney would even show at all. Odds were against it. The editor she was working for at the moment had been so sure of it that he wasn’t going to send anyone. She had forced the issue, and wow, she was glad she did!
Yes, she felt cheated that there had been no press conference afterward, but she’d been the first to figure that the couple would head straight for Garrett Thorne’s house afterward. From the moment she saw the two get out of the limo together and realized who Thorne was escorting, she had made it priority one to find out where he lived. She had friends in the real estate business, and she knew the man had only recently moved to Portland. She was a bit embarrassed to admit that she had followed what went on with the two Thorne brothers and Wade Crittenden like a groupie. Who wouldn’t, though? Wade and Ellis were brilliance times two, and then there was Garrett, baddest of bad boys, and hotter than hot. And now, perhaps all that groupie adoration just might pay off.
From the beginning she was pretty sure she wouldn’t get anything at the Golden Kiss Awards that every other reporter there wouldn’t also get, and that would never be enough, even with Tess Delaney making her first ever public appearance.
When the couple left unexpectedly, she was ready for them, and she would have had them all to herself if that damned Mike Pittman hadn’t noticed her leaving and followed. Then, in the neighborhood where Garrett Thorne’s house was tucked away, she got lost in the cul-de-sacs and side streets that curved back onto themselves like a tipped-over bowl of spaghetti. She arrived just in time to see the very amorous couple disappear into the house. And damn if Pittman wasn’t right behind her, followed by half a dozen other reporters.
All through the night the ranks had swollen, with other reporters coming and going, with bathroom breaks and breaks for coffee and snacks. But she had a bladder of steel. That, along with a Snickers bar and a half a roll of cherry LifeSavers, stood her in good stead for the night. She waited stoically, checking out every possible lead she could come up with on her iPad. The first glimmer of dawn was breaking, and she had just returned from a quick pee behind the car, when she got the email.
You’re a stellar journalist, Ms. Flannery. Pity you don’t get the c
redit you deserve. That’s why I chose to email you with this tip.
Tess Delaney’s quick departure from the Golden Kiss Awards was not what it appeared. I have it on good authority that Tess is being stalked, that her life is being threatened.
Adrenaline surged like a drug through Carla’s veins. This could be the break she was looking for. She read on.
I’m sharing this with you because I think you’re trustworthy. I think you’re a good journalist who believes in protecting her sources.
I’m absolutely certain of this little tip, Ms. Flannery, because I’m the one stalking Tess Delaney. And I have every intention of making her pay for everything she’s done to me, for making me wait, for keeping herself hidden like she has, for being such a tease, for being such a whore. She deserves whatever she gets, Ms. Flannery. Don’t doubt that for a minute.
Carla felt the fine hair on the back of her neck prickle and gooseflesh broke across her arms.
Ask Tess, when she comes out to speak with the press. And she will. She won’t deny you that opportunity. I’ll wager her publicist will force the issue. Ask her about the threat to her life.
Ask the question, Ms. Flannery. See what she says. What a story you’ll have!
The email wasn’t signed.
She felt like someone had just poured ice water down her spine. She’d had anonymous tips before. Lots of them. And several of them had paid off big time. Carla knew better than to ignore them, but damn it, this was a little bit scary. This was more than a little bit scary. In the end, it might be best for her to keep her mouth shut until she could talk to her editor about it. She shifted in the seat and tried to stretch her aching back. Her editor had the news instincts of a damp paper towel. And she was here and now and … She looked around the neighborhood as the dawn light paled around her. Garrett Thorne’s house was completely silent. She imagined the couple were still sleeping it off. It could be hours before there was any movement, before there was any possibility of a story. That gave her time to consider whether or not to talk to her editor about it. And, in truth, she could always just send a text at the last minute.
Identity Crisis Page 10