by Robyn Carr
“How many sites have put this up?” she asked Josh. Their furniture had arrived. She didn’t yet have a desk, but she was sitting on the new couch. Until Josh had called to report the sudden influx of Google hits, she’d been comfortable. There was only one drawback to working out of their new house—it wasn’t easy to hear with Simon banging away in the kitchen.
She had to admit she was glad he wasn’t in the room with her, however. She’d all but attacked him last night, and in plain view of anyone who might’ve been hoping for just such a pic.
“It’s all over the Net and spreading as we speak,” Josh said. “Isn’t that great? You did a fabulous job. You both look as if you’re completely into each other. This could be an ad for Armani or Calvin Klein. It’s gorgeous! Who took the picture? I even like the old Victorian in the background. Was it Ian?”
Face burning, Gail briefly covered her eyes. “No.”
“Then who? Your father?”
“My father?” She wrinkled her nose at the thought of Martin being anywhere in the vicinity when she’d wantonly climbed on top of Simon. “That’s sick.”
“Why? You have your clothes on!”
It still looked very sexual—because it had been.
“You are so conservative,” he said. “Well, normally.” He was obviously referring to the photograph with this clarification. He chuckled at his own joke, but Gail didn’t find it funny.
“Anyway, someone took that picture,” he said. “Was it a friend?”
“No. I’m guessing it’s some member of the paparazzi. Someone was trying to get a shot through the window while we were sleeping the night before last. We assumed he, or she, left after that. No one was here when the cops arrived, and we haven’t noticed anyone following us since. But apparently, whoever it was hasn’t given up.”
“I haven’t run across any shots of you sleeping.”
Big Hit would know if such photos had appeared on the internet. Google would’ve alerted them of that, too. “They must not have turned out—or showed our identities clearly enough. It wasn’t a high-percentage shot.”
Josh lowered his voice. “So...you were straddling Simon, getting him excited, and you didn’t know someone was taking your picture? This wasn’t calculated?”
She stared at the photo of her and Simon on her computer screen. Maybe Josh was happy about it, but she wasn’t sure this would do Simon any favors. He needed a different slant for his new image, one that showed him as a man who’d settled down. This was far too sexy. It made him look like he was embroiled in yet another torrid affair.
“No, it wasn’t calculated,” she said. “As a publicist, I would’ve structured it very differently—maybe had him carry in the groceries or something.”
“So this was spontaneous? Holy shit!” Josh cried. “Now I’m really jealous. You must be having the time of your life.”
She was having the best sex of her life. No doubt about that. But she was scared to death wondering where things would go from here. And now she had to worry about how her behavior last night was going to affect the campaign and her efforts to help Simon gain custody of Ty. After they made love, he’d talked about his son for probably an hour. He missed Ty so much, he’d had to get his pictures out of his wallet and show them to her, even though she’d met Ty several times in the past and already knew what a darling little boy he was.
Could she soften the impact of this rather explicit picture? Give an interview focusing on the fact that this was, after all, their honeymoon? Passion played an important role in a marriage, but that wasn’t what she’d been hoping to highlight. She doubted this picture would impress the judge who’d be ruling on Ty’s fate....
“Gail?” Joshua prompted. “Did you hear me?”
She searched her memory for his question and managed to recall his last words: he’d wanted to know if she was having fun. “For now.”
“So he’s good in bed. As good as he seems in Shiver?”
Joshua wanted her to dish, but her private life with Simon was something she planned to keep to herself. “That’s none of your business.”
“But you have slept with him, even though you said you wouldn’t.”
“Quit digging, Josh.”
“That’s a yes. Oh, my God!”
She couldn’t help laughing. “Stop it! We need to figure out how to spin this.”
“Why? It’s perfect!”
He thought so because he was one of the most sexual creatures she’d ever encountered. “We’re aiming to convince a far more conservative crowd.” She considered her options, then made a decision. “Call your friend at Hollywood Secrets Revealed. Tell her I’m willing to talk. It’s time Mrs. O’Neal gave her first interview.”
“Mrs. O’Neal. You’re taking ownership. I like that. But what will you say?”
“I’ll tell her how misunderstood Simon has been, how there’s been much more going on than was reported in the media, how one side of a story is never completely accurate.”
“I know the routine. But...do you really believe that?”
After what she’d learned from Tex? Wholeheartedly. Men had committed murder over less than what Simon had discovered—firsthand—about his wife and his father. It sort of made sense to her now that he’d go out looking for a good brawl, smash someone who provoked him on-set or off, pick a fight with Bella’s brother. She could even understand why he might turn to alcohol to keep from thinking about what he knew, and why he couldn’t tell the world that Bella had done her share of cheating. Imagine the media frenzy that would occur over something like that—Bella having sex with Simon’s famous father—and how the taint of it would follow her, and Ty, for years. Gail couldn’t reveal all of that information to the public, but she could certainly tell people that Bella hadn’t been easy to live with and that all the blame shouldn’t be assigned to one person.
“I think he deserves more credit than he’s received,” she said. “He’s done what he can to be gallant.”
“He’s gone from being an ass in your opinion to being gallant? Oh, Lord.”
“What?”
“You’re falling for him, aren’t you.”
She didn’t deny it. “Hard,” she admitted.
Simon walked into the room as she hung up. “We’ve got a mess,” he announced.
Of course they had a mess, but she could tell he wasn’t referring to the pictures she’d just seen. He didn’t know about them yet.
“What’s wrong?” She closed her laptop. She’d have to tell him about the media hits, but she wanted a moment to think it through first, to be sure she was doing the right thing in offering interviews.
“The plumbing.”
“The plumbing?” she repeated, somewhat relieved. After her call with Josh, she’d thought it was going to be something far more serious.
He dusted off his hands. “It’s all so old. It needs to be replaced.”
With Simon standing there in a T-shirt that stretched nicely across his pecs and a pair of faded jeans that fit him so well he could’ve stopped traffic, famous or no, it was tough to care too much about anything else. But she did her best to show the appropriate concern. “Sounds expensive.”
“It probably will be. But I’m not worried about that. I just wanted to let you know the remodel might not come together as fast as I’d hoped.”
“That’s fine.” She was about to apologize for getting him involved in a money pit. After all, he’d bought the house to please her. But then he gazed around with a speculative eye, propped his hands on his hips and said, “Maybe we should redo the electrical while we’re at it.”
“Is something wrong with that, too?”
“No. It’s just smart to update while everything’s torn apart,” he replied, and that was when she realized that he didn’t mind the extra work. The opp
osite was true; he enjoyed what he was doing enough to add items to the list.
“I see,” she said as solemnly as she could. “But you wouldn’t do the electrical and plumbing yourself.”
“Oh, hell, no. I’ll just oversee everything and do the finish work.” He hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “This place is going to look great when we’re done.”
“I never doubted you for a minute,” she said. Then she drew a deep breath and told him about the pictures.
“An interview should handle it.” A shrug indicated he wasn’t too concerned as he headed back to work.
* * *
When Simon returned from getting his stitches out, Ian was there, sitting in a Porsche parked in front of the house.
His business manager opened the car door as Simon approached. “Finally!” he said with mock exasperation.
“Why didn’t you go in?” Simon asked. “I told you when you called that Gail should be home.” He’d left her in the midst of her interview with Hollywood Secrets Revealed or she would’ve gone to the doctor’s with him.
“I have the ring you asked me to get.” He held up a small brown sack.
“Great. Thanks. But I was expecting that. You still could’ve gone in.”
“I didn’t want my presence to tip her off. I assume the ring’s a surprise.”
“It is, but seeing you in Whiskey Creek wouldn’t tip her off. You also brought some things for me to sign, didn’t you?”
“I did.” He scratched his head. “It wasn’t just the ring, Simon. I was hoping to catch you alone.”
“Because...”
“I’d like to talk to you.” He motioned to the passenger seat of his Porsche. “Will you take a drive with me?”
Reluctantly, Simon agreed. He knew Ian wasn’t happy with his decision to put his work commitments on hold. He’d probably get a list of all the deals that were going to hell because he wasn’t there to make appearances and so forth, and he didn’t want to hear it. He was fully aware of the risks he was taking and the losses he was sustaining. For once it was intentional. But he figured he owed his manager a few minutes. They’d worked together for a long time.
“Fine,” he said with a sigh.
Ian pulled away from the curb almost before Simon could buckle his seat belt.
“What’s up?” he asked as they gathered speed.
“This.” Ian handed him a file that had been wedged between his seat and the console.
Simon glanced through it. It was a collection of articles and pictures on him and Gail. “Why’d you bring me this? You think Gail wouldn’t show me the same thing, if I asked?”
“Have you read some of those articles?”
“Not word for word.”
“Why not?”
Because it made him angry to read what was being said about Gail. He hated seeing how the Plain Jane garbage hurt her. So why raise his blood pressure? It wasn’t as if he could do anything about what was being printed. He couldn’t exactly tell the assholes who wrote this bullshit that they had no idea what she was really like. That would only make her more of a target. “Gail is keeping her eye on the press coverage. I’ve been busy with other things.”
“Like getting in her pants? Is she that good a lay?”
Obviously he’d seen the pictures that had gone viral this morning. “Maybe. Why, would that bother you?”
Ian hung a left and drove out of town. “Of course not. I’m guessing she leaked the pictures of you and her on the porch to make your relationship seem more legitimate, but people aren’t buying it.”
Simon felt his eyebrows shoot up. “What are you talking about?”
“Come on, Simon. No one believes you could fall for a girl like her. There’s speculation all over the place, even a few claims that it’s a publicity stunt.”
This was the first Simon had heard about that. Gail must not know, either, or she would’ve mentioned it. “What gave us away?”
“How should I know? Maybe we didn’t take into consideration what a cynical world we live in. Your marriage was sudden. Your new wife is a PR pro. Maybe people are reading between the lines.” He sifted through the stack and took out a snarky blog post that named the women Simon had been seen with in the weeks prior to his second marriage. The blog critiqued his usual choice of women and asserted that Gail was nothing like them. It even went so far as to say “industry insiders” believed he’d paid her to marry him to save him from the rape charge.
“Shit.”
“Then there’s this.” Ian used his knee to steer while he found another blog post. This one had a photo of Gail and pictures of the women Simon had been with over the years. Almost all of them were famous themselves or were blonde bombshells. The heading read One of These Is Not Like the Others....
The campaign was falling apart already. Feeling a sense of loss, he shut the file and looked at Ian. “What are you getting at?”
“I think we should call it quits, don’t you? If there’s no benefit in pretending to care about her, why keep it up? I don’t want you to ruin your career by breaking all your contracts just because of some misguided decision I had a hand in.”
“So you’ve come out to rescue me.”
He adjusted the heater. “To tell you you’re making a mistake. I should never have gotten you involved in this.”
“No.”
“No, what?”
“You’re wrong.” Regardless of how it was being played in the media, being with Gail didn’t feel like a mistake. “There will always be detractors, no matter what I do. I’m not changing course.” He was finally feeling human again, sleeping most nights, gaining strength and a sense of purpose. He missed Ty but every day he felt more confident that he’d get him back. Maybe that was because he could finally trust himself to be the kind of father he needed to be.
So what if no one believed in his marriage?
He was starting to believe in it.
“Take me back. I want to give that ring to Gail.”
Ian’s mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding.”
Simon smiled. “Not at all.”
* * *
“You’re really going to Sophia’s tonight?”
When Callie asked this, Gail was standing at the window, holding back the sheet so she could see outside. Her friend had arrived at her door carrying a copy of People magazine shortly after Simon and Ian drove off. One of the pictures Josh had taken at the wedding was on the cover, but Gail couldn’t concentrate on that when she was so concerned about what Ian might be saying to Simon. She knew it wouldn’t be anything that supported his staying in Whiskey Creek. The fact that Ian hadn’t come to the door or even spoken to her would’ve told her that much, if she hadn’t already been aware of it. Although Simon didn’t want to accept it, she halfway believed that Ian had told Tex where they were because he was hoping Tex would drag Simon back. Then it would be business as usual for both of them.
“Did you hear me?” Callie prompted.
Distracted, worried, Gail murmured, “What?”
“I asked if you’re really going to Sophia’s.”
She didn’t see why that mattered right now. “I guess so.”
“What? Now I know you’re out of it. Sophia’s the girl who stole your prom date in junior year, remember? She’s always treated us like second-class citizens.”
Gail turned. “Did you see Simon in a red Porsche on your way over here?”
Callie was thumbing through the magazine. “No, why? He cheating on you already?”
“Stop it,” Gail said with a scowl.
“Sorry.” Callie gave her a sheepish grin. “I have to admit I sort of like him. Not only is he...shall we say...pleasant to look at, he’s very engaging.”
Gail curved her lips into a superior grin. �
��I knew you’d like him.”
“I didn’t say that. The jury’s still out on whether or not he’s going to be good for you. It’s only been a few weeks. We can’t take too much for granted.”
Gail dropped the smile, mostly because it was hard to act as if she was right when she knew it was Callie who’d end up saying, “I told you so.” But she did have one argument. “Well, I, for one, am going to assume complete fidelity. Not doing so would drive us both crazy. But thanks for the advice.”
Callie propped her legs up on the coffee table. “So why are you gnawing on your fingernails while you stare out the front window as if he’s left for good? Why haven’t you even looked at these pictures, which most women would be dying to see?”
“Because his friend and business manager cannot be trusted. Simon’s trying to change, improve his life.”
“And you’re helping him.”
“Of course.”
“But what could his business manager be doing? Plying him with alcohol?”
Gail had no doubt Ian would provide drugs, too, if that was what Simon wanted. But she was more concerned that he might talk Simon into going back to L.A. and starting that movie she’d gotten him out of. Or commit him to some other project. Simon planned to return to acting, but he needed more time. And Ian certainly wouldn’t take that into consideration. He’d press forward with his own agenda.
If she thought he had Simon’s best interests at heart, she wouldn’t mind so much, but she didn’t believe he did. “Possibly.”
“If you ask me, you should be more worried about Sophia than Ian,” Callie said, still flipping pages. “She might be more of a test than he can handle.”
“Thanks a lot!” Giving up her vigil at the window, Gail went back to the couch and grabbed the magazine. “Let me see this.”
“You know what she was like,” Callie said. “No boy was off-limits.”
Gail leafed through the pages. Simon looked gorgeous, as always, and she looked...determined, like she was executing a business deal. For good reason...