by Scott, Lisa
“Think about ending this, Teague.”
“You handle my public relations, not my private ones.”
“Your private relations are public. I told you, you can’t keep a secret in Hollywood. Internet dating? What were you thinking?”
Kate’s heart pounded like she’d just sprinted down the hall after one of her students who bolted from the oh-so-pleasant You and Your Body presentation. She stood on the stairs, trying to calm her heart, and watched a tiny woman with dark, cropped hair march out the front door.
Teague closed the door and pressed his back against it.
Kate turned to go back upstairs, but the stair creaked and Teague looked up. “You’re awake.” He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I’m sorry. How much of that did you hear?”
Enough to know I’m social suicide for you. “I just heard shouting and came down to see what was going on. Who was that?”
“My publicist, June Meehan. She wasn’t entirely thrilled I sprung this on her.”
Kate hugged her arms around her torso. “So, how bad are the articles?”
He shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”
She climbed down the stairs and went to the kitchen to see for herself. The tile floor was cold on her bare feet. She slid onto a stool and noticed the stack of papers on Teague’s kitchen table. She picked up the one on top. “Kissing Kate: T-Rex’s Online Love,” she read out loud. Not bad. “T-Rex Goes Country.” True enough, she was country. “Is Mighty T-Rex a Gentle Giant?” No, ma’am, he is not. “Me T-Rex, You Plain Jane,” she said, incredulously. Well, now that’s just not fair. She slapped the paper down on the table. “God, I do look like a country hick.”
“Kate …” Teague didn’t argue.
She studied the two of them kissing, and it certainly was a juxtaposition. Teague in his designer clothes, tanned and toned, kissing Kate in her frayed and faded jean shorts and flowered tank top. Her hair flew in a hundred directions. Tonya was going to get an earful about that new volumizer when she made it back to the salon.
But Kate couldn’t take her gaze off the picture of his lips locked on hers. A sharp pain of longing shot through her, remembering the spark she’d felt in that fake kiss, which she quickly shooed away. He must be a good actor to put that kind of emotion into a pose for the press.
Kate looked down at her clothes, the same ones she’d been wearing the day before. “I really need something else to wear. I’ve got nothing with me, no shampoo, none of that stuff.” She felt dizzy just realizing the scope of this whole set-up.
Teague stood and ran his hand through his hair. He was already dressed in another pair of jeans and a form-fitting t-shirt, somehow looking even hotter than the day before. “Photographers are camped out at the end of the driveway, and if we go out they’ll follow us on our shopping spree. That might raise some suspicions. So, I’m going to have some things delivered to us.” He pulled out his wireless. “What size are you?”
Kate gritted her teeth. She was a fine size back home, but about seven sizes too big for Hollywood. “I’m a six,” she lied. She bit her lip. “Or maybe an eight.”
WHY DO THEY ALWAYS care so much about the damn number on the tag? He saw the uncomfortable look on Kate’s face. She was not happy with all this. Hell, who would be? He thought she looked great like she was, all curves and softness. Skeletal was not his type, and that’s what most of the women out here looked like. There’s nothing sexy about a pointy hipbone jabbing your thigh when you’re getting busy, that’s for sure. He dialed his stylist and asked her to bring a wardrobe over for Kate. “And we’ll need some red-carpet stuff, too.”
“This for your new gal I saw in the papers today?”
“Yes. Bring a few things for her to try. I want her to be comfortable. She wears a six.”
“Maybe get some eights too,” Kate called from across the kitchen. “Just in case small town sizes aren’t … so small.” Her face was turning red and Teague thought she looked darling. Darling? What the hell kind of word was that? Damn, he was infected with a little bit of Willowdale. He sat at the big, long island in the middle of the kitchen and drummed his pen on the counter.
“Eights?” Justine asked over the phone. “The designers don’t have sizes that big hanging in their sample racks.”
Teague looked out at his pool and imagined that beautiful size-eight body in a bikini, lounging by the water. Maybe one strap sliding down her shoulder and him tugging the bottom off in the deep end … He shook himself from his daze. He needed to keep this strictly business like he’d promised—for both their sakes.
He cleared his throat. “Tell the designers she’ll probably be the most photographed woman at the festival. They might want to come up with something in her size.”
Kate sat on a stool with crossed arms, jiggling her foot. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she stuck out her tongue at him. She did not look happy.
Justine let out a long, slow sigh over the phone. “And you want me to bring in someone to do hair and makeup. I’m not asking, I’m demanding.”
“Sure. But here’s the thing … we have to sneak you guys in here. The press is camped out at the end of my driveway. They’ll be all over anyone coming in or out.”
“Then explain to me how we’re going to get in.”
Teague smiled as the perfect solution hit him, one that just might make Miss Panties-In-A-Snarl over in the corner drop the glower. “I’ll send someone to get you.”
THE PHOTOGRAPHERS swarmed the Fantasy Florist delivery truck as it pulled through Teague’s gate three hours later. The deliveryman carried in two big vases filled with deep, red roses. Kate gasped, trying so very hard not to be impressed that she almost missed the small army following the florist, weighed down with shopping bags, makeup kits and styling tools. She plucked a card from one of the vases—probably Waterford. She knew this was just a ruse, but still, four dozen roses in crystal vases from the baddest bachelor in the world would send a shiver through any woman’s nether regions.
She opened the tiny envelope. Kate, I’m so glad you came into my life. Teague.
Perfectly coy. She tucked the card into her pocket. When she was serving the clam linguine special a month from now, she’d need some proof to convince herself this had all really happened. She braced herself against the dark granite countertop and wondered what next?
“Do you like them?”
She looked up at Teague, who was all smiles and hotness. Damn him. “Perfect diversion for the press.” She motioned toward all the strangers in the kitchen, with its terra cotta tile floor and gleaming stainless steel appliances that looked like they’d never been used. The kitchen, dining room, and living room in Mama’s house would probably all fit in this one room. What did one person do with so much space? But the space was filling up with strangers.
“Who are all these people?” she asked. Apparently it was going to take a small village to make small-town Kate Riley Hollywood ready.
Teague set his hands on her shoulders. “I think you’ll be a lot happier the next time the press catches us together.”
Trying to ignore the heat of his hands on her skin, she glared at him. But that only made him smile more, and that smile only made him look more gorgeous. She let out a little “hmph.”
A woman came at her with scissors and a smock. “Take a seat, this won’t hurt a bit. I’m Monica.”
Kate flopped down in a chair.
Monica rubbed Kate’s hair between her fingers. “What do you think about some highlights?”
“No,” Teague said. “I like her hair. It’s a beautiful color.”
“Well, we need to cut in a few layers, give it some movement,” said Justine, the slim stylist, coming up behind them. Kate wanted to offer her a snack so she wouldn’t disappear into thin air before this whole makeover thing was done.
“But not too short,” Teague said.
Why was he so concerned about her hair?
Justine and Teague circled around her like she was on d
isplay.
Kate blushed, angry at his presumption that he had any say in how her hair looked, and way too pleased he thought it was a beautiful color. “Do I get a say in this?” Tonya would kill her when she found out someone else had messed with her ’do.
“Of course,” Teague said.
Justine wedged herself between them, being so skinny and all. She pushed her cropped red hair behind her ears, releasing a whiff of something that smelled stupidly expensive. “Kate.”
She knew that look; she used it on students complaining of a stomachache before finals. Nice try, sister.
“Kate, I don’t know how this unorthodox relationship blossomed, but if you care about Teague and his career, then you need to understand that the press expects his girlfriends to have a certain … look. A certain style. I hope you can cooperate with us.” She smiled again, like it hurt to move her lips. Which it probably did. They were way too puffy to belong to that little body.
Kate plucked a piece of fruit from the counter and handed it to her. “Would you like an apple, darlin’?” she asked, sweet as pie.
Justine winced. “Are you going to cooperate with us?”
Kate sat back, closed her eyes, and bit into the fruit. Wave the white flag already, she was surrounded, outnumbered, defeated—done. “Fine. Like Teague said. Cut it a little, but don’t change it too much.”
By the time she was trimmed, plucked, powdered and polished, she thought she looked like her long-lost, sophisticated twin sister. Teague had watched the whole thing, just to make it extra super-duper fun. Kate saw him behind her in the huge wrought iron mirror in the living room, looking at her. She wondered what he saw.
“Quite an improvement,” Justine said, walking over with an armful of gowns. “Now, we need to get you properly dressed.” She motioned for her to take off her clothes.
“Right here?” Kate looked at Teague, who sprouted a big smile.
Justine snorted. “What? It’s not like you’re showing him anything he hasn’t seen.”
Oh no, girlfriend, the horse has not been taking that trail.
TEAGUE GAZED AT KATE, the way the hair grazed her cheeks, the way her eyes sparkled, the way her lips were plump and moist and ready for him. He wondered if he’d have the chance to feel them against his again.
He shook his head. No. This was business. She wasn’t interested in a relationship and neither was he, no matter how damn irresistible she looked. No matter how close they were to his bedroom. No matter how …
“Teague …” Kate was calling him.
He shook himself out of his daze. “What?”
“Seems your girlfriend’s shy about you watching us dress her,” Justine said.
“Oh, of course. I’ll go check on our travel arrangements.” He went to his office and smoothed his sweaty hands on his thighs. Why was he feeling so nervous? Kate was playing along nicely. The ruse was working. The press had only dug far enough to learn she worked as the school nurse, that she loved the fried catfish at the Jelly Jar diner—sometimes asking for seconds—and that folks in town had no idea the two of them were dating. Oh, yeah, they dug up a pregnant teenage stepsister. Was it something in the water in Willowdale?
But smokin’ Kate popped back in his mind, doing things he shouldn’t be imagining. He smiled, picturing how sexy she’d look in her new clothes. She’d been overwhelmed by the dozens of new outfits Justine had unwrapped: gowns, sundresses, shirts and pants, shoes, sunglasses. Kate’s eyes had gone wide as she’d unpacked the bags and boxes. His throat tightened, wondering how she’d look in them.
Out of them, too.
“You can come in now, Teague,” Justine called.
He was more excited than he wanted to be. He walked over to her and planted his hands on his hips, taking it all in. A sparkly blue dress the color of the summer sky clung to a body that was even curvier than he’d dreamed. It pooled around her toes, which peeked out of silver high heels. He could imagine the whole ensemble heaped on the ground.
He cleared his throat. Her hair was piled on top of her head, exposing pale shoulders and a long neck. He wanted to run his thumb along her bare skin, skate his tongue along her jaw, up to her ear. Drop that hair down to her shoulders … Damn. He was in trouble. He hadn’t expected this. He didn’t want to deal with this. Not now.
“Well?” Kate asked, her smile faltering as he stood there.
“Very nice,” he managed to say. He went into the kitchen, because he wasn’t certain he could keep himself from taking her in his arms and hauling her off to bed. Which wouldn’t be a problem, he’d carried her up the stairs the night before when the sleeping pill had knocked her out, and she was his “girlfriend”—they did have an audience he could claim he was trying to impress.
But Teague didn’t need a girl like her anywhere near his arms, and certainly not his heart. A girl like her would find her way in. And she wouldn’t want what she found. She wouldn’t want him—the real Teague. The Teague no one had ever wanted.
Chapter 6
KATE LOOKED AT herself in the big mirror that hung over a couch and she didn’t recognize the woman staring back at her. Miss Least Likely To Raise A Ruckus Or An Eyebrow didn’t look half bad. Even so, apparently she didn’t look Hollywood enough for Teague. He’d barely squeezed out a compliment before stalking out of the room. How would she pull this off? What had she been thinking, agreeing to pose as his girlfriend? Despite plenty of cajoling from Tonya and Jeanne, she never even dressed up for Halloween, and here she was in the ultimate costume party: girlfriend to a Hollywood hunk. Insanity.
“I think that will do, Kate,” Justine said. “I’ll make arrangements for you to have a hairdresser and stylist for the premiere. We’ll have these clothes packed up and shipped with you.” She smiled primly. “I do hope you enjoy your adventure. Must be very exciting for a small-town girl to scoop up a guy like Teague.” She raised a red eyebrow. “I hope you’re aware of his track record.”
Kate gave her a great big smile. “I’m not worried about the women he’s dated.”
Justine widened her eyes. “You should be. Most of them are going to be at the Sunshine Film Festival. Better have Monica sharpen your claws before you go. Simone Peters will be thrilled to see you.”
Simone Peters. Voted People’s Most Beautiful Person last year. The beauty who’d reportedly prompted Teague to get that tattoo on his butt. Dread coiled through her belly as Monica, Justine and the crew filed out to the delivery van.
The black leather couch in the living room beckoned, and she flopped onto it to check in with Dina. Fifty-six voice mails and text messages waited for her. She read one. You’ve got some major ’splaining to do, Tonya had texted her. Exactly. She tapped out a quick message for her friends. Surprise! We’ll have lots to talk about when I get home. Until then, XOXO. If Tonya or Jeanne got her on the phone, they’d have the truth out of her in two seconds flat.
She called Dina, but got her voice mail, so she left a message. “Hope you’re okay. I have one crazy story to tell you when I get back, probably in a week or so. Call if you need anything and if you can’t reach me, try Tonya and Jeanne.” She hung up. And what would she do if Dina did need something? She was a world away. But Dina had never come to her before for anything more than a ride. She’d have to pin George down for a lift to work now. Unable to deal with the other messages, she turned off the phone and wandered toward the kitchen.
She heard Teague talking on the phone. “Morty, I’ve been over this with June. This is my life. I date who I want, no matter what you think. And it’s not a long term thing. You know me.”
The words stung, and Kate chastised herself for being silly. It wasn’t a long term thing—she had insisted on it. And it wasn’t even a “thing.” It was part of their deal, for crying out loud.
Teague slammed the table with his fist. “Enough. This is not going to blow my chances with Stan Remington. He wants me in his next flick. Trust me. Doesn’t anyone trust me?” He ended the call and tos
sed his wireless on the table.
Kate stepped into the room and cleared her throat. “Never trust anyone, wasn’t that your advice yesterday?”
He jumped when he realized she was in the room.
She wore one of the casual outfits the crew had brought her: the dark, skinny jeans Oprah had named one of her favorite things, and a silky pink t-shirt she loved enough to wear forever. The outfit was probably slumming it by Hollywood standards, but she still felt like she was showboating. It would fetch hundreds of dollars on eBay. Maybe she could take the clothes with her to sell later after she left this fantasyland. “So what am I screwing up for you now?”
“Nothing.” He walked toward her. “That was my agent. He freaks out whenever I show up with someone new. Just like my publicist and my stylist did. And you’re not only new, you’re different. Unlike anyone I’ve ever gone out with before. They don’t know how to handle you.”
Kate wondered if he regretted their agreement. She walked toward the window overlooking his pool. Several chaise lounges sat underneath a white pergola alongside the long, narrow swath of turquoise water. A fountain in the middle sprayed arcs of water into the air. Potted palm trees dotted the concrete patio. “When do we leave?” She’d be happy spending her month right here, hiding. “And where is the Sunshine Festival, anyway?”
He followed her to the window and laughed. “It’s in Maui, and we leave at six in the morning.”
She sank into a chair at the table. She couldn’t remember when she’d last eaten anything besides that apple. “Do you have any food?” The walls were lined with dozens of huge mahogany cabinets in the kitchen. Surely one of them held some goodies—the sweeter, the better.
Teague frowned. “I gave my chef the week off since I wasn’t going to be around. I could scrounge around in the cupboards, or we could order out.”
She perked up. “I’d love to see some of L.A. Do you think we could dodge the cameras and sneak out, Eugene? You seem to be pretty clever.”
He pulled her up by the hand. “I just might be able to arrange that.”