by Robyn Carr
“Are you okay with missing all the fun?”
Gail hated feeling so removed from what she’d created. She was too used to standing at the helm. But she had enough challenges right here, she reminded herself. One of those challenges was not moaning at the pleasure his fingers were giving her with his massage. Another was making sure her soft spot for him didn’t get any larger. “I’m on assignment.”
“And you’ll see it through.”
“Of course.”
The rubbing stopped for a moment as he saluted her. “That’s your brand, too.”
“That’s my personality.”
He stared at her for several seconds.
“What?” she asked, growing self-conscious.
“You’re right. It is your personality. You’re responsible, dependable.”
Although that sounded like it was meant as a compliment, being responsible and dependable wasn’t flattering enough to counteract the negative comments she’d just read. It wasn’t like being told she was gorgeous or sexy or charismatic, like he was. But she figured the world could use a few more dependable people. Lord knew she dealt with enough who weren’t. “Be careful. I might get a big head—like yours,” she said with a laugh.
He started to rub again. “I like responsible and dependable.”
She watched him in the mirror of her dresser. “Sure you do. Being responsible and dependable is almost as good as being conscientious and trustworthy.”
“You’re not flattered.”
“No.”
His hands stilled. “Okay. Would you believe me if I said you have the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen?”
He was getting a lot closer to the things a woman really wanted to hear—even someone as practical, responsible and conscientious as her. But he couldn’t be serious. She was barely a C cup. “No.”
“Now you know why I didn’t bother.”
She told herself to let it go at that, but couldn’t. “Is it true?” she asked warily.
A sexy smile lifted one corner of his mouth as he bent to whisper in her ear, “I’d be happy to convince you of my sincerity if you’ll give me the chance,” he said and his hands came around to cup her breasts through her clothes.
The heat of his palms made her nipples tighten. She told herself to get up and step away, but she could only stare at the sight of his dark fingers against her turquoise sweater. “Something must be wrong with me....”
His thumbs moved back and forth, and darts of pleasure raced through her. “No, there’s not,” he said, his lips against her neck.
She could hardly breathe. She wanted to let those well-sculpted hands delve beneath her top and really touch her. But she was determined to be smart about Simon. “I mean, there must be something wrong with you if you think I’m going to fall for that,” she said, and knocked his hands away.
She’d thought he’d straighten and laugh it off as if touching her hadn’t meant anything to him, anyway. As if it had been some sort of test to see what she’d do. But he didn’t. When their eyes met in the mirror, she could plainly read his disappointment.
God, no wonder he could get any female on the planet, she told herself. It wasn’t just his celebrity and appearance. There was an emotional honesty about him she found oddly courageous. Maybe he didn’t always feel the way she might like him to feel, but he didn’t hide the truth.
“What would it hurt?” he murmured. “You’re my wife.”
He wanted the physical intimacy a regular wife would give him. But he wouldn’t be happy if she wanted the emotional intimacy a regular wife would expect in return. “I know you’re not used to going without, that it’s been a few weeks—”
“Ah, shit. Don’t patronize me,” he said, and walked out.
Gail sat there for several more minutes. She was waiting for the tingling in her breasts to subside. But every time she thought of Simon touching her with that intense look in his eyes, the sensation came back.
Finally, she told herself to quit being an idiot and went downstairs.
“Should we drive around and see if we can find any for-rent signs?” she asked.
He was sitting on the couch, watching TV, and didn’t even bother to look up. “I’ve decided a for-sale sign would work just as well.”
“You want to buy a house?”
“I’m just saying I’ll take what I can get.”
Of course. He wouldn’t want to stay with her father and brother any longer than necessary, and she couldn’t blame him.
“You’re mad at me.”
“Frustrated,” he said.
“Simon—”
“But I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fine. Let’s just...” She swallowed hard, feeling at a loss because she was frustrated, too, even torn. “Pretend nothing happened,” she finished. “Come on.”
Picking up the remote, Simon snapped off the TV and followed her through the kitchen. They were just stepping outside when Kathy called.
“Is it true?” the Realtor squealed.
Distracted by Simon, who insisted on driving even though she thought she should probably do it this time, since she knew her way around, Gail didn’t immediately understand what Kathy meant. “Is what true?”
“That you married Simon O’Neal?”
Sometimes Gail couldn’t believe it herself. “Yes.”
“Oh, my God!” Kathy shouted. “Oh, my God! Oh, my God!”
“Kathy—”
“What’s it like to sleep with him?” she asked.
Gail froze. This was the last question she’d expected from middle-aged, happily married Kathy Carmichael. Simon was so famous, people thought they had some sort of claim on him, which gave them the impression they had the right to ask such personal questions.
Simon had obviously overheard. He glanced up to see what her response would be.
“He’s not all he’s cracked up to be.” She wasn’t sure why she said that; she just couldn’t stop herself from needling him.
Whatever Kathy said was lost on Gail, who was too focused on Simon.
“You keep saying stuff like that and you’re going to have to give me the chance to prove you wrong,” he told her.
Which was exactly what she wanted him to do. She was just afraid of what might come after. “Kidding!” she told Kathy. “He’s amazing, of course. Just looking at him makes me drool.” She stuck her tongue out so he wouldn’t take that seriously.
“The truth at last,” he murmured sarcastically.
“Lord, you and me both, honey,” Kathy was saying. “I’ve seen Shiver at least half a dozen times. The way he makes love to Tomica Kansas in that movie is beyond anything I’ve ever seen. All I have to do is hear the musical score and...” Her voice softened. “Oh, my.”
Gail didn’t want to think of that movie but the images danced through her brain, anyway. “Don’t hold your husband accountable if he can’t duplicate that scene,” she said. “I’m sure the director had a lot to do with it. And the music. And the magic of make-believe. Sex is never messy on screen.”
Simon settled behind the wheel of her car. “Keep talking. You might actually believe it one day.”
She couldn’t respond to him. Kathy was murmuring, “You’re one lucky girl, darlin’. That’s all I’m saying.”
Eager to change the subject before she had to hear any more, Gail cleared her throat. “Thanks. Do you know of any places we can rent for three months, Kathy?”
“Only one that’s good enough for Simon.”
Gail covered the phone. “Did you hear that?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Sounds hopeful.”
“I’d better not run into this very often,” she told him.
He raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Th
e way people gush over you is so ridiculous it makes me sick.”
“Is that why you’re looking at me as if you’d like to tear my clothes off?”
She gaped at him. How could he see through her so easily? “You’re so conceited!”
“What did you say?” Kathy asked while he laughed.
She removed her hand from the phone. “Sorry, I was talking to Simon. I told him you have just the place.”
“I do,” she said. “It’s the old Doman mansion. You know it, don’t you?”
“Of course. But...that’s up for rent?”
“For sale. Why would someone like Simon pay rent, especially in your hometown, where you’ll be coming again and again? This is pocket change for him.”
That diamond guy had felt he should be able to tell Simon how to spend his money, too. “How much pocket change?”
“Two-point-five million. It’s an entire compound, with ten acres and stables and everything.”
“We’ll take it.” Simon was still listening in, but Gail had no interest in buying the old Doman place.
“I’m afraid that won’t work,” she told Kathy. “It’s far more than we’re willing to take on. Simon wants to get a piece of land and build us a house, but for now we just need something small and cozy, something temporary and a lot less work.”
“Oh.” Kathy seemed disappointed.
“If she doesn’t have anything small and cozy, we’re taking the Doman place,” Simon informed Gail.
Gail gestured for him to be quiet.
“Well, in that case—” Kathy hesitated. “Meet me at the office. I can show you a couple of possibilities, but...there’s not much on the market right now.”
“I understand. We’re on our way.” With a triumphant smile, Gail hit the end button.
“What’s wrong with the Doman place?” Simon asked, scowling. “Kathy seemed to think it would be perfect for me.”
Gail fastened her seat belt. “You trust her more than you do me?”
“Hell, yeah,” he said. “At least she recognizes a good love scene when she sees one.”
“That love scene was...generic,” she responded, but it was a lie, and they both knew it. That love scene was one of the best to ever hit the screen. Every time Gail climbed into bed with Simon she had to face the memory of his perfect mouth moving down Tomica Kansas’s flat stomach....
His gaze lowered to her breasts. “That’s not what your body is telling me.”
She resisted the urge to fold her arms over the evidence of her arousal. “I’m not Tomica Kansas.” She had to keep the distinction between her, at Plain Jane status, and the femme fatales who starred in his movies clear in her mind.
“You could’ve been fifteen minutes ago,” he said, but he was no longer looking at her. He was checking the road as he backed out of the drive.
Nineteen
“This is it?” Simon didn’t seem impressed with the house Gail wanted.
“What’s wrong with it?” she asked.
He waited until Kathy was out of earshot. She’d gotten a call and was heading to her car for an address. “It’s a two-bedroom, one bath that was built in 1880.”
“So?”
“It’s functionally obsolete.”
“No, it’s not.”
“The only bathroom is in the hall, Gail. And it has a claw-foot bathtub. There isn’t even a shower.”
She rolled her eyes. “There’s a shower head above the tub and a curtain you can pull around.”
Obviously he’d seen the makeshift shower. He just didn’t think it was an acceptable arrangement. “I don’t want to have to stand in one place and turn in a tight circle. The entire bathroom is half the size of a normal closet!”
“By L.A. standards, maybe. But we’re not in L.A. anymore.”
He gave her a pained look. “I think I’m clear on that.”
“We’re not going to be here long,” she said, trying to convince him. “We can get by with this place, can’t we?”
After glancing into both bedrooms and the bathroom again, he sighed. “There has to be something else. This is barely...what did she say? Eight hundred square feet?”
“Eight hundred and seventy-five.” She shoved the flyer at him, but he didn’t take it.
Crossing his arms, he leaned dejectedly against the wall. “It’s the size of my bedroom back home.”
“But you heard Kathy. This is our last option. There are no rentals, and we saw the only other houses on the market. Neither of them were as nice.”
“That first one was bigger,” he grumbled. “We could fix it up.”
“It was right in town. We don’t want neighbors, do we? Certainly not nosy neighbors, and there isn’t any other kind in Whiskey Creek. Here, we’d have some privacy. Better yet, we’d each have our own bedroom.”
He turned to face her. “Being told I’ll be sleeping alone? That’s supposed to convince me?”
She grinned. “Convinces me.”
He lowered his voice. “Only because you’re scared.”
“Of what?” she scoffed, but immediately regretted it when he cocked his head as if he had no intention of backing down.
“Of me. Of how much you might enjoy my hands on your body. Of what it might feel like to lose control.”
She swallowed hard. “I’m not scared,” she lied. “I’m just...not stupid enough to...” To what? To get too comfortable in a marriage that wasn’t going to last?
He shot her a sullen glance. “To get involved with me?”
“I’m already involved with you. That’s not what I was about to say.”
“There’s another way of looking at it, you know.”
“Which is...”
“My way.”
“Let me guess. You think I should let you use me until you’re ready to move on.”
“I’m offering you two years of endless orgasms. Why reject that out of hand?” He poked her. “You need an orgasm more than any woman I’ve ever known.”
She stepped out of reach. “Quit treating me like I’m frigid!”
He lifted his hands. “Whoa, no need to get defensive. I wasn’t implying that.”
“But you think it.”
“I think you’re too uptight. But you have nothing to worry about. I’ll take care of you.”
He thought she was denying them both for no good reason. But he didn’t understand what was at stake. How could he? Maybe sex meant nothing more than a fun time to him, but she wasn’t built that way. “I might be uptight but I’m not shortsighted.”
“Typically not,” he said. “So why are you renting a house with only one bathroom?”
Arguing about sex and the number of bathrooms in their first rental made her feel more married than she’d felt before. “We’ll have to share it but...otherwise, this house is perfect.”
Hands on his lean hips, he turned in a circle.
“Okay, it’s quaint, but quaint is good enough.” She drew him back to the living room, with its high ceiling, crown molding and hardwood floors. “Look at this place. Look at the fireplace mantel. It has so much character.”
“I like the porch,” he admitted, gazing through the gigantic front windows with the diamond-shaped cut-glass inserts above them.
“I love the porch,” she said. “It’s almost as big as the living room. Imagine sitting out there with a glass of iced tea as the sun goes down. Summers in Whiskey Creek are so gorgeous. And the kitchen’s got potential,” she added.
He followed her around the corner. “If someone were to gut it and completely redo it, maybe.” He eyed the lime-green cupboards. “These cabinets are hideous.”
“It wouldn’t be that hard to renovate,” she said. “Maybe we should remodel instead of build.”
/>
The screen door slammed as Kathy came back in. “So? What do you think?” she asked when she found them, but she had eyes only for Simon. What Gail thought didn’t matter.
Simon stared at Gail for several seconds, during which she silently pleaded with him. Then he shifted his attention to Kathy. “We’ll take it.”
“You want to make an offer?”
“Give them their asking price,” he said. “It’s not much.”
Gail had begun to figure out that Simon was a pushover when it came to money and possessions. She was pretty sure she could get just about anything out of him. His willingness to buy her a half-million-dollar diamond was proof. So she wasn’t surprised that he’d let her have the house even though he didn’t want it and that he’d agreed to the original price. She was surprised, however, when he leaned over and brushed a kiss across her lips. It was a loving gesture manufactured for Kathy’s benefit, of course. They’d been holding hands for most of the day; it was beginning to feel natural. But that kiss. It was nothing, a split second of contact, and yet it stole Gail’s breath.
She glanced up to see if he was laughing at her, if he realized how much she’d liked it, but he turned away before she could ascertain what he might be thinking.
“When can we move in?” he asked.
* * *
That night Gail made a Caesar salad, pasta and garlic bread. The cream sauce for the pasta had onions and peas and bacon. Simon liked it. But sitting at the table with Martin and Joe DeMarco, who were home from work for the evening, was a silent and awkward affair.
Gail must’ve said something to them about how they’d treated him so far, because they were on their best behavior. Martin no longer shook his head in disgust whenever he glanced at Simon, and Joe didn’t seem so hostile, either. Both men bent their heads over their plates and shoveled in their food as if they were sitting at the table alone.