by Robyn Carr
That was what she thought, too. Nothing else made sense. After the judge signed the restraining order that would keep Simon from his wife and son, he found a seedy bar he later admitted he’d never been to before, one with a row of motorcycles out front, and picked a fight with three Hells Angels. They would’ve destroyed his face, maybe a lot more, if not for one of their own. Fortunately, a member of the club happened to be a big fan. He saved Simon an extended hospital stay by pulling the others off and pushing him out of the joint while he could still walk—but the biker later confessed he was disappointed that Simon didn’t really know kung fu. He’d expected more from him after watching Take It or Leave It, Simon’s most violent movie.
“Honestly? I think the worst he’s done is cheat,” Joshua said.
“You say that like it’s nothing.”
“It’s nothing to you.”
She cocked her head in challenge. “I’m only his future wife!”
He cocked his head right back at her, exaggerating the movement. “But you don’t love him. Cheating on you would be more of a...breach of contract.”
“It’ll be adultery to the rest of the world! And he might have other problems, ones we haven’t discovered yet. Maybe he’s a sex addict.” He’d certainly made a big enough deal about her refusal to service him....
“You should ask.”
“I did. Ian and I talked about the possibility last night. He says no. Claims there were extenuating circumstances to Simon’s extramarital affairs.”
“Like...he got bored and horny?” Josh said with a laugh.
“Ian doesn’t know for sure. He thinks she may have cheated first, but he can’t substantiate that and it doesn’t really make sense. Wouldn’t Simon have said so if it meant keeping custody of Ty?”
“No doubt.” Josh swung his foot. “You didn’t confront Simon himself?”
“I’d already called him an alcoholic. I didn’t think it would go over too well if I accused him of being a sex addict, too.”
“So what do you want me to say, Gail? Don’t do it?”
The anger drained out of her. “More or less.”
“Then don’t do it. We’ll...go into promoting beauty products or something.”
If that happened, she’d have to start over alone. “What about Sonya? And Serge? And you and everyone else? I have to do this.”
“Then keep Simon in bed.”
“Excuse me?”
Eager to convey his point, he leaned forward. “If you’re so worried he might stray, keep him in bed, darling. Don’t give him time for anyone else.”
Sometimes Gail wished she could be as sexually unfettered as her assistant. She was beginning to feel a lot older than she was.
What are you doing this weekend?
Working.
Any plans for Friday night?
Catching up on some paperwork.
Tell me you have a hot date for Valentine’s Day.
With my television.
She’d fallen to a new low when she went to a movie alone on her birthday. She was still mad at herself for not heading back to Whiskey Creek, but she’d been so slammed with new clients she hadn’t wanted to take the time off.
“Thanks for that piece of advice, but I don’t want to talk about what I should do to keep Simon interested on a sexual level.” He wasn’t interested to begin with.
“Why not? You can do it. So what if you’re a late starter?”
“I’m not a late starter. I’m selective.”
Josh formed a steeple with his fingers. “You didn’t lose your virginity until you were twenty-six. That definitely qualifies as a late start.”
She should never have admitted that. Josh had a way of getting personal information out of anyone.
“I was twenty-five,” she corrected. “But who’s keeping track?”
“Just me.”
“Thanks for that.”
“Maybe it’s good you’re tying the knot. Maybe this is the only way you’ll ever say ‘I do,’ seeing as you cross every guy off your list before you even give him a chance.”
“Before I sleep with him, you mean.”
“Same thing.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Not quite.”
A soft knock interrupted them, which surprised her. She’d figured they were alone.
Bracing herself in case it was the beginning of the media onslaught—some reporter who’d somehow gotten in—Gail called out, “Yes?”
It wasn’t a reporter. It was Ashley, her receptionist, who poked her head into the room. “Thought I might catch you here.”
“What brings you to the office on your day off?” Gail asked.
“The answering service contacted me. They’re being inundated with calls from a guy with The Star, who claims he has to talk to someone in the office right away.” Barely five feet, Ashley looked more like a child than a twenty-one-year-old woman. Her large-framed glasses added to the effect; they always gave Gail the impression she was playing dress-up. “I thought maybe it was important, that someone should get back to him.”
Joshua’s eyes latched on to Gail’s. “You know what this means.”
“I do. Word is getting out.” It was time to quit fighting what she’d agreed to do and throw herself into her role. If they had any hope of pulling off this campaign, there could be no halfway measures. She had to play the part even for her own employees.
But when it came right down to it, she couldn’t lie, bald-faced, to Ashley. She knew she’d feel ridiculous saying that one of the most famous men in America had fallen in love with her, especially when he’d never so much as given her an appreciative glance.
She couldn’t bear lying to the rest of the people who worked for her, either. Which meant Josh had to do it. “Josh will explain the situation to you and everyone else.”
Josh blinked at her. “I will?”
“Yes.” Maybe it’d be more believable if everyone heard it secondhand while she went underground, anyway. She’d take the phone off the hook and hole up in her house for two or three days. That would go far toward convincing everyone that her “relationship” with Simon was real. If she suddenly went quiet instead of going on the record with an admission or a denial, the press would chase after the story that much harder and break it that much bigger.
The paparazzi would be waiting for her when she emerged, of course. She wouldn’t be able to avoid them altogether. But hiding out until Wednesday would save her a lot of acting, which she feared wasn’t her strong suit despite the misplaced confidence she’d exhibited at Simon’s.
Josh cleared his throat. “Right, I will. And you...”
“Will be at home for a couple of days,” she finished while packing up her briefcase.
“Right again. Not coming in is probably a good idea. We’ll do what we can without you.”
“Thanks.” In a moment of clarity, Gail realized she’d set a match to a trail of gunpowder by making that agreement with Simon. But it was too late to put out the fire.
All she could do was try to survive the explosion.
Eight
Relieved to be safe in her little beach house, Gail lowered the blinds in her bedroom, curled up on her bed and stared at Callie’s picture and contact information on her cell phone. She’d never purposely ducked a friend’s call before. At least not one of her friends from Whiskey Creek.
“Oh, what the heck,” she mumbled. “Get it over with.” Once the news that she was seeing Simon O’Neal broke, she’d have to worry about her phones being tapped or her house being bugged—laughable considering she was no head of state or criminal informant. Her only claim to fame would be that she was “dating” a box office hit.
But tabloids were big business, hence the worry that someone could stoop to su
ch means to get inside information. She might as well use this time to prepare her friends and family, before sightings of her and Simon began to appear in the media.
Her father should’ve been her first call, but Gail preferred to break into this easily. It was the weekend. She had that going for her. With so many people out doing other things, word wouldn’t spread quite as fast as it would on a weekday.
Callie picked up on the second ring. “Jeez, there you are. I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”
“Sorry. Been working.”
“On a Saturday?”
Gail pictured her curvaceous bombshell of a friend. She used to wish she looked like Callie, who resembled Marilyn Monroe. “Always.”
“You should really take a day off here and there.”
“You’ve mentioned that before. What’s up?”
“I’ve been dying to tell you something.”
“What?”
“You’re not going to believe it.”
Callie wouldn’t believe what Gail had to say, either. “Try me.”
“Matt’s moving back to town!” she announced with a “ta da” flourish.
Sure she must’ve heard wrong, Gail gripped her chest.
“Hello?” Callie said. “Did I lose you?”
She’d forgotten to breathe. Air. She needed air. Taking a big gulp, she sat up and forced words out as she exhaled. “No... I’m... I haven’t gone anywhere.”
“Did you hear what I said?”
This had to be a mistake. Matt wouldn’t leave Wisconsin in the middle of football season. “What happened? He didn’t get injured again, did he?”
“Not a new injury, no. Just more of the same old stuff. Knee’s acting up.”
Gail wasn’t sure how to react. She’d been in love with Matt since she was in middle school. They’d finally gone out in July and nearly wound up in bed together. But, to her severe disappointment, he hadn’t called since. “So...is he out of the NFL for good?”
“I don’t think so. They had to do a second surgery, and he’s in therapy, but he’s planning to return to Green Bay next season.”
Too agitated to remain on her bed, Gail got up and began to pace. “How did you find out? You talked to him?”
“No. My mother heard the news while she was having her hair done. You know what this town is like.”
Gail had been hoping Matt would come home eventually, had dreamed of it. Given the opportunity, she thought he might ask her out again. But she found herself cringing at the possibility that he wouldn’t be able to continue playing football. He loved the sport like nothing else. “Do you know how long he’ll be staying?”
“Months. Until he’s recovered.”
“Wow.” She pivoted near the French doors that opened onto her postage stamp of a backyard. “I hope... I hope it heals well.”
“You mean you hope it heals slowly,” Callie said with a laugh. “I thought of you as soon as I heard. He’ll be here when you come home for Thanksgiving in a few weeks.” She put some innuendo into her voice. “With you two in the same town for a few days, you never know what might happen.”
Nothing would happen now because Gail wasn’t going home. And even if she did, she’d be married. She’d been waiting years for this news—and it had to come on the day she’d made a business arrangement to marry someone else. “He’s probably got a girlfriend,” she said. Maybe that was why he hadn’t called her after their date last summer. Maybe there’d been someone else all along....
“Nope. Word has it he’s as single as he’s ever been.”
So they would’ve had a chance?
Suddenly claustrophobic, Gail went out onto the patio where she liked to read or answer email. Normally, she loved it out here, but her piece of heaven didn’t hold the same magic for her today. Her heart had been yanked back to the Sierra Nevada foothills, to the historic gold-mining town where she’d grown up and so many of her friends still lived.
The sound of laughter and voices from the beach, only ten feet or so from her fence, engulfed her. So did the cool, moist air of autumn and the briny scent of the ocean. She closed her eyes as she considered backing out of the deal with Simon. But the practical side of her wouldn’t allow it. What did she think—that she and Matt would bump into each other and he’d suddenly regret not pursuing the relationship? Why would that happen now when he’d gone back to Wisconsin and basically forgotten about her after they’d all but had sex?
It wouldn’t. For the sake of her future and her employees, she needed to live up to the commitment she’d made to Simon. “There’s just one problem,” she heard herself say.
“What’s that?”
She felt she sounded wooden, mechanical, but soldiered on. “I can’t come home next month.”
“Why not?”
“I’m...sort of involved with someone else, someone who lives here.” She figured she’d be better off not mentioning the “M” word. She could always justify her marriage by saying it was an impulsive act, something they’d done while visiting Vegas. Otherwise, she’d send the whole town of Whiskey Creek into an uproar.
There was a slight pause. “Since when?”
“It’s been a few months.”
“You’ve never mentioned anyone.”
Gail slipped past two trellises to gaze over the fence at the inline skaters rocketing down the walkway, the athletes playing sand volleyball beyond that and the waders at the water’s edge. “I didn’t think it would go anywhere.”
“If you’re willing to miss seeing Matt, it must be serious.”
The scent of damp wood and seaweed filled her nostrils. It didn’t matter that L.A. and Whiskey Creek were in the same state. They were as different as two places could be. No wonder she hadn’t thought of all the complications she’d bring to her personal relationships when she’d decided to save Simon’s image—and her business—with a temporary marriage. “More serious than it was before.”
“Are you in love, G.?”
“I...might be.” She was waffling, but her response shocked her friend enough that Callie didn’t seem to notice.
“Oh, my gosh! Who’s the lucky guy?”
Wincing at the reaction she’d receive when she uttered the name, Gail made her way back toward the bedroom. “Simon O’Neal.”
Callie’s pause extended into awkward silence. No doubt she’d expected Gail to add, “Not the Simon you’re thinking of.” When she didn’t, Callie said it for her.
“You’re not talking about the Simon O’Neal, are you? The actor? I know he was your client before you fired him. But you said he was an asshole.”
Gail was going to get this a lot. She’d complained far too much to her friends. “I was frustrated when I said that.”
“So it is Simon.”
The wind chimes on her porch tinkled softly. “Yes.”
“You’re dating him even though you told him you wouldn’t work for him anymore?”
Her bedroom seemed far cooler and darker than before her excursion into the afternoon sunshine. But she went inside and closed the door. “The stress of trying to have a professional relationship while seeing each other caused everything to blow up. You can imagine how difficult it would be to date someone so famous. We were sneaking around, and he was...acting out because of...you know, the divorce, and I was wondering how I could continue to represent him if I was emotionally involved with him. I swore I’d never date one of my clients. You’ve heard me say that. It’s just not wise.” She was talking too fast and too much and throwing in too many justifications. She needed to be careful but couldn’t seem to catch herself until Callie interrupted.
“Speaking of the divorce, it’s only been a few months since he and his wife split.”
Gail kicked off her flip-flops and smoothed her bare feet a
gainst the plush rug near her bed. “Actually, she took Ty and moved out over a year ago. The divorce has been final for six months.”
“Okay. About a year, then. He could still be on the rebound, Gail. If he ever loved Bella to begin with. You can’t tell me his behavior doesn’t spook you. It would have to. What about all the things he’s done?”
He spooked her, all right. But she’d never be able to do business in L.A. again if she didn’t come through. “The divorce was an acrimonious one. I’ll be the first to admit that. But you have to understand it’s been really, really hard on him.”
“I don’t think it’s been any easier on his ex-wife. Last I heard, he showed up at her house drunk and got into a fight with her brother. You shouldn’t be dating someone who...who’s spinning out of control, G.”
Gail laughed uncomfortably. “Come on, Callie. He’ll get turned around. It’s not easy living under a microscope.”
“I understand. But...you’re the most stable, levelheaded girl I know. Why would you get involved with someone who needs so much therapy? He cheated on his wife with six different women.”
At last count. Gail was pretty sure he’d been shooting for Tiger’s record. “He screwed up, ah, literally.” She managed a weak chuckle at her bad pun. “But it’s killing him to be kept from his little boy.”
“I’d like to believe you, but most people who feel bad about losing their kids resist jumping from one bed to the next because they know it won’t help their case.”
Gail squeezed her forehead. “He was depressed, fatalistic, going through a rough time. That’s not who he really is.”
“The pictures in the tabloids, showing him with one woman after another, sure don’t make him look depressed and fatalistic. He’s living the high life.”
Gail suspected that appearing so happy in public was a purposeful cover, a way to save face, but she couldn’t use that in her argument. And if this was how it was going with Callie, she cringed to think of the conversation she’d have with her father.
Suddenly Gail was glad Simon had refused to go to Whiskey Creek. She needed to keep him away at all costs. “The tabloids make up a lot of that stuff.”