"Is your grandmother here?" Gina asked him, interrupting his thoughts.
"Yes. I sent a car for her."
"Where do you think she is?"
"I don't know." The party spanned from room to room, and Flint wasn't sure where his grandmother had chosen to be. "Let's go find her."
After excusing themselves from his parents, Flint and Gina searched for Nísh'kí, combing the mansion together.
Finally they found her, perched on a Chippendale settee. She watched the festivities in a tan dress and an old-fashioned mink stole.
The older woman rose to hug Gina, who all but melted in his grandmother's arms.
"Flint insisted that I come to this party. Can you imagine, an old woman like me doing the Charleston?"
Gina laughed, still clutching both of Nísh'kí's hands. "It is a silly dance."
"To say the least," his grandmother agreed.
They both turned toward Flint, but he just shrugged. His grandmother preferred to avoid these high-society events, but tonight he needed to be surrounded by family, so he'd asked her to come.
"I've picked up all sorts of twenties terms," Nísh'kí said to Gina. "Did you know that a sheikh was a handsome young man? And that his flapper girlfriend was called a sheba?"
"Those terms were inspired by Valentino. Because of the sheikh films he made," Flint said. "Of course, you might remember him, Nísh'kí."
"Bite your tongue, young man. I'm not that old."
Both Gina and Flint laughed, and then a disturbance caught their attention. They turned simultaneously, and Flint cursed beneath his breath.
Tara had arrived.
* * *
Twelve
« ^ »
Tara Shaw entered the crowded mansion in a jeweled, knee-length dress and cloche hat, her eyes rimmed in kohl liner. She'd dressed appropriately for the occasion, right down to rolled stockings and a long, slim cigarette holder.
Ever the movie star, Flint thought. The reporters flocked around her like sheep.
"I think I'll sit this one out," Nísh'kí said, returning to the settee.
Flint looked at Gina. "I wish this wasn't happening. Do you know what the reporters are going to speculate about Tara and me?"
"That she came here to make a play for you?"
He nodded. "I know that's not the case. But how I am going to dispel those rumors when I go off alone with her?"
"How do you know that's not the case?" she asked, rendering him nearly speechless. "How do you know Tara isn't interested in you?"
Troubled by Gina's question, he reached for her hand. They stood close together, their conversation quiet. "Do you trust me?"
She sighed. "I don't trust Tara, Flint."
Which meant that she didn't trust him, either. She thought he would fall prey to his ex-lover's charms. And that made him feel sick inside.
Should he tell Gina how he felt? Should he admit that he loved her?
No, he thought. Not here. Not now. Not while she was accusing him of being a potential cheat.
"Your opinion of me hurts," he said.
She took her hand back. "I'm sorry, but I can't help the way I feel."
Flint's body went numb. He wanted her to respect him, to believe in him, but she didn't.
"It's humiliating to have Tara here," she said. "Even if our affair is almost officially over, it still feels like a slap in the face."
He didn't dare steal a glance at Tara. He could still hear the commotion coming from the other room, where his ex-lover waited for him to acknowledge her.
"Then we're even," he said. "Because your lack of trust is like a kick in the teeth."
"So, if I tested your loyalty and walked in on you and Tara, I wouldn't see anything incriminating?"
He squared his shoulders. "No, you wouldn't." When they both fell silent, she smoothed her gown in a self-conscious gesture, and Flint realized the reporters were watching from across the room.
Outside, the storm took center stage, raging against the elements. Thunder grumbled in the sky, and rain slashed against the windows.
"You better go," she said.
"I'm not attracted to Tara anymore," he told her, determined to defend himself.
"She's one of the most beautiful women in the world, Flint. How could you not feel something for her, given your past?"
Because I love you, he thought. "I just don't. There's nothing there. Why won't you believe me?"
"I'm trying."
He reached out to stroke her cheek, but the gesture fell short. He dropped his hand, realizing it wasn't quite steady. "Then try harder. Test my loyalty. Do whatever you have to do."
"Maybe I will."
She met his gaze, her eyes cluttered with emotion. Dark and blue-violet, he thought. As perilous as the night sky.
Finally, she blinked then stepped out of reach. Too far for Flint to attempt to touch her again.
* * *
Five minutes later Flint and Tara were alone in the study, surrounded by rich, dark woods and rare books. The weather still raged, and the party still rang with merriment. Music played faintly in the background, melding with festive voices and laughter. Flint wondered what Gina was doing, if she remained isolated or if the reporters had swarmed her, attacking like killer bees.
God, he hoped not. Gina might not be strong enough to bat away the bees, to survive their vicious stings.
He glanced up to see Tara watching him. She lit the cigarette at the end of her fancy jeweled holder, then leaned against a mahogany desk, her gaze instantly riveted to his.
"So, what's going on?" he asked.
"What do you think is going on?"
"I have no idea."
"Don't you?" Her lips curved into a small, painted smile.
"No, I don't." Irritated by her evasive game, he removed his jacket and tossed it on a leather chair. He wore a dark, vintage-style suit, and the damned thing was stifling him. "Just tell me what you're after. Tell me why you're here."
She blew a stream of smoke into the air. "Figure it out, Flint. Think it through for a minute. After all, you're a young, brilliant spin doctor. That shouldn't be too hard for you."
He winced, realizing that he'd been caught. "You know, don't you?"
"That your scandal is fake? You bet I do. And I'm also aware that you dragged me into it."
"The tabloids created all that bull about you and Gina fighting over me. None of that was my idea."
"Maybe not." She gave him a cool, even study. "But you didn't do a damn thing to dispel the rumors. If anything, you added a few of your own."
"That's my job, Tara."
"To mess with people's lives?"
No, he thought. That wasn't his job at all. "I didn't mean to cause you any discomfort."
"But you did." She sat on the edge of the desk. "Derrick and I are having some trouble holding our marriage together, and all that crap in the tabloids isn't helping. Can you imagine how he feels, being pitted against you? My former lover? A young man I once cared about?"
Yes, suddenly Flint could imagine exactly how Derrick felt, how being compared to Tara's ex-lover could make him insecure and distrustful. Weren't those the emotions Gina struggled with? The very ones she had tried to convey just minutes before?
"I'm sorry," he said, recalling how cavalier he'd been about Tara's faltering marriage. "Sometimes I get so caught up in what I'm doing, I lose track of what's really important." He paused to loosen his tie, which seemed like a noose around his neck. "I never meant to hurt anyone. It was strictly business." A sharp, calculating scheme that humbled him now. "I am truly sorry."
Tara toyed with a lock of hair that curled around her hat. She'd aged, but she was still beautiful, a woman of grace and substance. Flint had loved her once, but not in the way he loved Gina. Tara had been an icon, an introduction to the world he'd craved. Gina, with her hot temper and angelic heart, simply was his world.
"It's a hell of a scandal," Tara said. "If it hadn't turned my life inside out, I'
d congratulate you for it."
"How did you know it was fake?" he asked, thinking it had turned his life inside out, as well. "I thought Gina and I put on a pretty good show."
"You did. But I know you, Flint. I know how you think. You would never get trapped in a public affair, not after what you went through when we were together. You're too clever for that."
He frowned. "I can't take it back. I can't tell the press that I manipulated a scandal for the Barones. That would hurt Gina's family. It would destroy their reputation."
"I don't expect you to take it back. But I came here to prompt you to conduct an interview with me, to convince the press that there's nothing going on between us."
"Why didn't you try to arrange this ahead of time?" he asked. "Why didn't you call me and discuss it first?"
She placed her cigarette and its sparking holder in a crystal ashtray. "I wanted you to sweat it out. To fret about what I was up to. I assumed you knew that I'd figured out that your scandal was fake."
He frowned again. She'd played him. And she'd played him well. But he deserved it, he supposed.
"This fiasco has to end, Flint. As soon as possible."
"It will. I mean, it's supposed to. But things are a bit shaky right now."
She gave him a wary look. "What things?"
He tapped his chest. "The things going on inside me. I'm in love with her, Tara. I fell in love with Gina. And if she'd have me, I'd marry her in a minute."
"Oh, my. You mean this scandal turned real?"
"Gee, thanks. Rub it in. That's really comforting. Just what I need."
She snuffed out her cigarette. "Oh, darlin', it'll be all right. Being in love isn't so bad."
"It is if you're on a one-way street."
"How do you know you're on a one-way street? Did she rebuff your feelings?"
"Not exactly. But she hasn't come forward with any kind of confession, either."
Tara rolled her eyes. "Men are such idiots. Young, old, you're all a bunch of morons. For goodness sake, Flint. Tell her how you feel. Make the first move."
His pulse shot straight up his arm. Tara was right, of course. He needed to put his heart on the line, to ask Gina to become his wife, to bleed at her feet if that was what it took.
Anxious, he dragged a hand through his hair. Brave talk, he thought, for a moron. For an idiot male who didn't have the slightest idea if the woman he loved even wanted him.
God, he was scared. Petrified that she would refuse his proposal. "Will you cover for me, Tara? Will you handle the press?"
"You bet." She reached for his jacket and handed it to him. "I'll give the interview of a lifetime."
"Thank you." He smoothed his lapels, and Tara came forward to straighten his tie, to offer him a boost of encouragement.
And that was when the door opened.
They both turned, and Flint saw Gina. Tara dropped her hands, but it was too late. He was face to face with his ex-lover, and Gina assumed the worst.
He caught the devastation in her eyes before she raced back to a party filled with curious onlookers.
* * *
Gina pushed her way through the crowd, desperate for an escape. He'd lied. He'd insisted that he wasn't attracted to Tara anymore. But his actions spoke louder than his words.
Much louder.
Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to cry. Blinking back the pain, she kept pushing, kept shoving her way through partygoers and reporters who had been handpicked to attend this fraudulent occasion.
Someone grabbed her arm, and she tried to jerk free.
"Gina, wait!"
She heard Flint's voice and struggled even harder to get away. But his grip was too strong.
She turned to look at him and saw the pure and utter remorse on his face. What a fine actor he was. As usual, he played his role to perfection.
Nearly every guest gathered to watch, to view the trashy scene.
Gina caught sight of Tara from the corner of her eye, wondering how the actress could be so cold, so unfeeling.
Just like Flint.
He took a rough breath and released her arm. "It's not what you think. Tara was straightening my tie. I know that sounds stupid, but it's the truth."
It did sound stupid. A lame excuse. And she didn't understand why he bothered to say it.
She prayed for the strength to continue this public charade, to keep herself from collapsing. Their fight was no longer staged. It had become real. Only now she had to improvise, to deliver her lines and convince Flint that she didn't care.
"What happened doesn't matter," she said, each syllable laced with pride, with an ache she refused to reveal. "It's degrading, but I'll get over it."
"Nothing happened, Gina. I swear."
God, he was good, she thought. Even his voice—that smooth vodka-on-the-rocks voice—quavered with regret.
"I'm so sorry." He reached out to touch her, to brush her fingers with his. "I never meant to hurt you, to cause a misunderstanding."
She pulled her hand back. She couldn't bear the pain of his touch, the lies, the betrayal. "I told you it doesn't matter. And neither do you. You're not worth my time. Not anymore."
His breath hitched. "Do you really mean that? Is that honestly how you feel?"
No, she thought. No. But how could she reveal her heart just seconds after he'd crushed it? She would rather die.
He stood, riveted to the floor, gazing at her with pain in his eyes. Trumped-up pain, she reminded herself. He was only sorry that he got caught.
"I love you, Gina. That's what Tara and I were talking about when you walked in." He paused, his pain-filled eyes turning watery. "I was going to ask you to marry me. But I know now that you'd refuse."
The crowd still watched. Some guests whispered and others gasped. Gina feared she might faint. "You're not serious," she said.
"Yes, I am. I've never been more serious in my life. You've become everything to me. My heart, my soul, my friend, my lover. But you're right, it doesn't matter now. I can't make you feel the same way about me."
A flood of tears rushed her eyes. "But I do. I just couldn't bear to say it. Not after what I thought you were doing with Tara."
"Oh, baby." He drew her into his arms, and she felt his heart pounding just as erratically as hers.
"Can we go someplace quiet?" she asked. Where they weren't being watched, where the reporters weren't listening to every word they said.
Every beautiful, dizzying, emotional word.
He led her through the crowd, and as they passed Tara, the actress smiled. Gina smiled back. She had never expected the other woman to become her ally, but Tara was already addressing the press, distracting them while Gina and Flint slipped away.
He took her to a garden room, where hundreds of flowers bloomed all around them and rain fell against the glass roof and walls. Finally alone with her, he kissed her.
His body was hard and strong, his mouth gentle and warm. Gina closed her eyes and clung to him.
He stepped back to touch her cheek, to run his thumb along her jaw. She opened her eyes to look at him, to memorize every feature.
"When did you know, Flint? When did you know that you loved me?"
"I'm not sure, but I finally admitted it to myself tonight. I'd been panicking all week, dreading this party, dreading the moment I would lose you. So maybe I knew all along and I was just too afraid to face my feelings."
"I was fighting my feelings, too."
"Really? For how long?"
"Since I moved in with you."
He took both her hands in his. "Will you marry me, Gina? Will you be my wife?"
Her heart tugged. "I love you, and I want that more than anything, but I can't give up my career, Flint."
"I'm not asking you to."
"How can you just change your mind about marrying a career woman?" she asked, fear shattering the moment. "What if it becomes a problem later on?"
"It won't." He paused to explain. "In the past, it never matter
ed to me whether my future wife worked or not. I used to think the choice should be hers, since she would be the one bearing my children. But after I heard about my mother's suicide, I changed my mind. I forced the issue."
For a moment they both fell silent, and Gina knew Flint was thinking about his mother. She brushed his lips in a tender kiss, and he drew her into his arms and held her in a warm embrace.
"I can handle the truth about Danielle," he said. "Whatever her reasons for doing what she did, I can deal with it." He slid his hands down her back, drawing her closer. "But that's because of you. Because you're the link to my heart, the piece I was missing."
Her eyes misted. He, too, was the link to her heart.
Silent, they listened to the rain for a while, and then she thought about the party at which they'd met.
"I dreamed about you that first night. It was raining then, too." She laughed a little. "You ambushed me right from the start. But I'm glad you railroaded me into your scandal, Mr. Kingman."
"Oh, yeah?" He stepped back to grin at her. "Good thing. Because I intend to nose in on your job, Miss Barone."
"We're going to be working together again?"
"You bet. Remember that contest you wanted to launch? The new flavor for Baronessa? I'm going to help you with the campaign."
"Are you now?"
"Damn straight."
"And when did you decide all of this?" she asked.
"A few seconds ago."
He shot her another impulsive grin, and she leaped into his arms. When he spun her in a dizzying circle, she laughed again, knowing this man—this insistent, sensitive, stubborn man—was hers to keep.
* * *
Later that night Flint took Gina to his house, and as they entered the master bedroom, he smiled.
Everyone had congratulated them. Friends, family and reporters alike. Tara had remained at the party to show her support, and his grandmother had danced the Charleston, luring him and Gina into the festivities. He'd never had such ridiculous, mind-boggling, heart-soaring fun.
Now he was completely alone with the lady he intended to marry.
"Will you share this house with me?" he asked, discarding his jacket.
SLEEPING WITH HER RIVAL Page 14