by Amy Harmon
“Your purpose.” Landon said again. “Let me guess. You’re an undercover reporter?”
“Nope.”
“An actress? A spy?”
“Sorry.”
The intensity returned to his gaze. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night.”
“I really can’t.”
Landon smiled at her again, undefeated. “All right. I guess I’ll have to be satisfied with holding your picture.”
“My picture?”
“The one in the paper. As soon as I get back to my hotel room I’m going to cut it out.”
“What paper?” she asked.
He cocked his head at her. “This morning’s paper. Didn’t you see the picture of you and Slade in it?”
“No,” she said and then, “Oh, no.” She felt a ball of anxiety tightening in her stomach. “What did it say?”
He shrugged. “Nothing really. Just that Slade was here with the cast.”
She hadn’t even realized she was holding her breath but now exhaled slowly. “That doesn’t sound too bad.” Of course it wasn’t bad. If the paper had printed anything unfavorable, she would have heard about it by now from Slade. Repeatedly. In a loud, angry voice.
Landon pulled her toward him to avoid another couple. “Yeah, every once in a while the papers have an off day and print something nice. I’m sure their next article will call us Under-the-Covers Agents, and they’ll write about how we trashed the hotel during our wild parties.”
“Well, I’m not talking to anyone from here on out. In fact, I’m going to insist on some sort of identification and proof of occupation before I even discuss the weather.”
He laughed softly. “It won’t matter. The press is like Santa Claus. They know when you’ve been sleeping. They know when you’re awake. And they know about anything that happens in between those two times.”
“Doesn’t that bother you?”
“Sometimes.” A brief scowl touched his lips. “It’s been worse lately. It’s to the point that the whole cast is afraid to cough for fear of being written up as having contracted the plague.”
Which only made Clarissa feel more guilty about her slipup at the pool. “Why did you tell Sylvia I was an old friend of yours?”
His hand slid across her waist. “I know how reporters like Sylvia think. She won’t believe you’re only a nanny. She thinks you have some ulterior motive, some connection. I let her believe your connection is to me instead of to Slade.” He winked at her. “I don’t mind being linked with beautiful women. You see, this isn’t just a dance—I’m helping your cover story.”
Clarissa shifted a bit in Landon’s arms, uncertain how to reply to the compliment. “Well, thanks again for pulling Sylvia away from me.”
“You still owe me a favor,” he said.
The song ended. Landon didn’t let go of her. “You’re not ready to go sit down, are you?”
She didn’t have time to formulate a reason for doing so. Slade was suddenly at her side. He smiled pleasantly at Landon. “Do you mind if I cut in?”
Landon looked as though he did mind but stepped aside anyway. He nodded to Clarissa and then gave her a sultry stare. “Thanks for the dance, Mrs. Hancock.”
Despite her intentions to do otherwise, Clarissa blushed at his parting, which made it that much harder to look at Slade. He was eyeing her in a very Hawk Hawthorn sort of way—handsome, dark, and dangerous.
The music started up—another slow song. Slade took her hand in his and placed his other hand on her waist. She shouldn’t have felt a tingle of electricity at his touch. He was her employer, and judging by his facial expression, he wasn’t that happy with her right now. But he was still Slade Jacobson. A man that had been voted America’s sexiest man in more than one poll.
Landon’s good looks were smooth, polished like the surface of welcoming lake. Slade was attractive in a rugged sort of way. Slade’s looks were like waves on the beach—powerful, energetic, and something that could drag you under if you weren’t careful.
Slade maneuvered her to where the floor was less crowded. “Why did you dance with Landon?”
“Because he asked me.”
“Yes, but didn’t you know what it meant when he asked you to dance?”
“I supposed it meant he wanted to dance.”
Slade shook his head at her, and when he spoke his words were clipped. “What’s going on between you two? You looked like a couple out here.”
“We were dancing,” she said. “Everyone looks like a couple when they’re dancing.”
Slade’s gaze was as intense as Landon’s, without any of the warmth. “I don’t know your perfectionist husband, Clarissa, but I can imagine what he would say at this moment.”
Clarissa hesitated. “There’s nothing going on between Landon and me. He helped me out this morning and…” She hadn’t meant to tell Slade like this. She had wanted to wait until he seemed to be in an understanding mood.
“Helped you how?” Slade asked, and he didn’t sound understanding.
Clarissa gave a brief version of her encounter with Sylvia that morning, giving as few details as possible. She waited for Slade to break into some sort of lecture… or yell. His face showed no expression though. “And what was that business between you and Landon about you being busy tonight?”
“After his interview I ran into him in the hotel, and he asked me to the party. I told him I was married, and that I had to watch Bella.” Although not in that order.
Slade let out a slow breath, almost a sigh. “We told you the truth during dinner. Landon is a womanizer.”
“I know.”
“But you danced with him anyway, and I could see you blushing from where I stood halfway across the floor.”
She felt her cheeks growing red again. “I’m one of those people who blushes easily.” And then because she still felt the need to defend herself, she added, “It was just a dance. I was being polite to him.”
“Trust me, stay away from him from now on.” Slade said this to Clarissa as though she was some wide-eyed groupie throwing herself at Landon.
“You were the one who insisted I come tonight,” she reminded him.
Slade swayed her to the left to avoid getting too close to another couple, and as he did so, he pulled her nearer. “Exactly, so let’s stick together. From here on, we’ll sit out.” Slade glanced across the floor, and his eyes stopped on Natalie. She stood in AJ’s arms, flowing back and forth to the rhythm of the music. As Slade watched her, she looked over and smiled at him.
Slade smiled back, then turned to be away from Natalie’s line of sight. “But first I think we’d better dance for a while.”
Clarissa watched Natalie for another moment. The woman’s smile returned to AJ, and she caressed the back of his neck with her hand. “I don’t know why you’re worried about Natalie,” Clarissa said. “She seems pretty devoted to AJ.”
“It’s called acting,” Slade said, “and this is exactly the reason you have to trust me where Landon is concerned. You’re not used to being around actors. They’re different.”
Clarissa gazed off into the crowd. “You can say that again.”
Slade chuckled, a sound that was familiar and comforting. “Go ahead and be angry with me. You’ll thank me someday.”
She looked back at Slade and saw the grin on his face. She hadn’t expected to see him smiling at her, and it totally disarmed her. It seemed odd to her that one smile from him was more effective than ten of Landon’s sultry stares. It suddenly became hard to dance with him, to not notice how close he stood or to feel his shoulder underneath her hand.
It was true that she wasn’t used to actors, to men who made your heart race when they glanced at you. She would have to learn to rein in these reactions, and rein them in fast.
She looked out at the crowd again, trying to think of anything but how near Slade was. She contemplated women’s fashion, time-share condos, Hawaiian flowers. Her mind kept wandering back to Slade, to the feel of his h
and on her waist.
“Did you see the paper today?” she asked.
“No.”
“Landon said there was a picture of us.”
“Us?” Slade nearly spat out the word.
A lump suddenly formed in Clarissa’s throat. He hadn’t known about it, and she had just opened the floodgates for more criticism.
Slade stopped dancing, stopped breathing probably, and Clarissa quickly added, “Landon said there wasn’t anything bad about it.”
“Landon’s definition of ‘bad’ and mine are not exactly the same.” Still holding onto her hand, he led her back across the dance floor.
He only held her hand so as not to lose her. It still made them look like a couple, though. She didn’t point this out to him, and she didn’t take her hand from his. His fingers felt warm and strong holding on to hers.
She needed some serious work when it came to resisting actors.
Chapter Fourteen
They headed to Clarissa’s room. She knew where her paper was. “What exactly did Landon say about the picture?” Slade asked as they got into the elevator.
Landon said he’d have to be satisfied with having Clarissa’s picture since she wouldn’t go out with him. She was not about to tell Slade this. “Just that it was in the paper.”
Slade narrowed his eyes at her as though he knew she was hiding something. “You’re leaving out the part where he told you how stunning you looked, how you ought to be a model, and how he knew people who could help you.”
“He didn’t say any of that,” Clarissa said, and then stopped herself, because it implied he’d said something else.
The elevator door opened, and Slade stepped out without saying any more on the subject. When they got to her room, she slid her card through the slot and opened the door. She wished she’d done a better job of arranging Elaina’s things somewhere neatly instead of piling them the furniture. Slade didn’t seem to notice the mess. He went straight for the newspaper on her couch.
He flipped through it, then his jaw clenched and he muttered several things.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He turned the paper over so she could see the page. It was one of four pictures under the headline “Agents Go Undercover in Hawaii.” The top corner showed a photo of Landon autographing a picture for a fan. Below it were two pictures of the cast members mingling with the crowd, and in the bottom right-hand corner, Slade and Clarissa walked toward the hotel entrance.
It could have been worse. It could have been a picture of her peeling Bella off of Slade’s leg while Bella screamed like a banshee. Instead, they looked almost like normal people. Slade was smiling, and it didn’t even seem like a forced smile. He carried Bella with one arm and had his other hand on Clarissa’s elbow. Clarissa looked a little dazed, but none of the frustration she’d felt at that moment showed on her face. Her hair was in place, and her mouth wasn’t hanging open. It was even a good photo of herself.
“Look at this.” Slade smacked the paper with the back of his hand. “Slade Jacobson and a friend drop in at the Mahalo Regency. A friend,” he repeated. “They called you a friend.”
Only because they hadn’t talked to her first.
He tossed the paper onto the coffee table. “I specifically told them you were Bella’s nanny.”
“Yes, and Bella told them that reporters are bad people and we weren’t having an affair. All in all, ‘friend’ doesn’t seem so bad.”
“Friend makes it sound like there’s something more to it. Anyone who sees this will think there is. Next thing you know, the tabloids will be here interviewing the maid service.”
Clarissa kicked off her shoes. “Aren’t you being a little paranoid about this? I mean, who cares what kind of relationship you have with your daughter’s nanny?”
He sat down on the couch and rubbed his brow. “The media went on a feeding frenzy when they found out Evelyn cheated on me. I couldn’t even let Bella switch channels on the TV because I was afraid of what she would see, what she would hear about her parents. They’re all just waiting for the next chapter in that saga, and they’ll think this is it.” He leaned back against the couch. He looked defeated, vulnerable.
Clarissa suddenly had the urge to go and sit beside him and take his hand in hers, to comfort him. Instead, she walked to the chair across from the couch and sat down stiffly. “This is different. It doesn’t matter what anyone reports. Bella knows I’m nothing but the nanny.”
Slade lifted an eyebrow to show that she was missing the point. “Does Elaina? Do your friends, neighbors, and the people you went to high school with—do they all know you’re not cheating? Because this is the sort of story reporters love: Home-wrecked becomes home wrecker. It doesn’t matter if there isn’t any truth to it.” His gaze was still on her, warm and intense. “I was thinking about the havoc this could cause you, Clarissa.”
“Oh,” she said with surprise. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
He looked at her unconvinced.
“Really,” she said. “In high school I was voted most likely to run off with a movie star to a Hawaiian resort. No one will be shocked.”
“Not even your husband?”
“He was the one who nominated me.”
Slade didn’t laugh. In fact, he was staring at her like she wasn’t taking the subject seriously enough. “I called Alex last night,” she said, “and told him about the reporters. He thought it was funny.”
Slade relaxed at that. He glanced once more at the paper, then stood up. “Well friend, I guess we should go relieve Meredith.”
“I guess we should.”
Slade walked out of the room and into the hallway. Clarissa followed, glad she only had to look at the back of Slade’s shirt. Looking at the back of his shirt was easier than looking into his eyes. She didn’t like lying to Slade, but what else could she have said to make him stop worrying?
Slade knocked softly on Meredith’s door, and after a few moments, she opened it. She wore a navy blue silk robe, and the makeup was gone from her face. She still managed to have a professional air about her, though. “You’re back early,” she said.
Slade walked into her room. “We left when we found out our picture was in this morning’s paper. I wanted to check it out.”
Meredith nodded. “I noticed it after the girls fell asleep. She gestured to where the paper lay on her couch. “It’s only a local story. It probably won’t even be noticed by the larger press.”
“Probably not,” Slade said.
“And if it is, we’ll just ask Clarissa’s husband if he can be out here on the next flight and tell the press he’s been here with us all along.”
“And Bella adores them both,” Slade agreed.
Clarissa’s mouth went suddenly dry.
Meredith turned toward Clarissa. “If the situation arose, your husband could arrange that, couldn’t he? It would be all expenses paid, of course.”
Clarissa fidgeted with her lei. “Oh, um, if he could get the time off work.”
Slade’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Couldn’t he get the time off work if it meant saving your reputation from death by tabloids?”
“Well, I’m sure he’d try,” Clarissa said.
Slade’s voice took on an exasperated tone. “Tell him I’ll personally make sure the hangers in your hotel room are facing the right direction.”
“I’ll tell him,” Clarissa said. She pretended to brush away a piece of lint because she couldn’t bear to look at Slade any longer. Her stomach felt as though it had turned to clay.
She should have told him at the beginning. Risking the job would have been better than perpetuating this lie. It would have been easier. Now she stood only one news story away from being revealed as a fraud.
Slade looked around the room. “You say the girls are asleep?”
“They’re on my bed.” Meredith walked over to her desk where her laptop sat. “You got an email you’ll want to answer.”
Slad
e turned and went to check on the girls instead of following Meredith. He came back a minute later, smiling. “They look like a pair of angels in there sleeping.”
“Yes, it’s quite deceptive, isn’t it?” Meredith sat down on the chair in front of the computer and with a few clicks of the mouse logged onto the Internet.
“They weren’t good for you?” Clarissa asked.
“Oh, they were fine,” Meredith said. “Just your normal, busy preschoolers, and I’m sure housekeeping will find a way to get that fingernail polish out of the carpet.”
“Remind me to tip the maids well,” Slade said.
“You always do.” Meredith leaned back in her chair and scanned through a long row of emails. “Here we are. It’s from your friend Kim.”
Slade leaned over Meredith’s shoulder and read out loud: “Slade, I can’t believe you’re in Oahu. For once our paths are going to cross. I’ll be near the north shore to study some plant species in a couple of days. We have to find a time to get together. I’m tired of seeing your face on the screen and never in real life. Besides, half of my roommates don’t believe I’m really e-mailing you. I need proof. Pictures of us together and perhaps a notarized set of fingerprints. Let’s work something out. Love, Kim.”
Meredith twisted in her chair to face him. “Isn’t it perfect?”
He shrugged. “Sure. It’s great. We’ll have lunch somewhere.”
“No,” Meredith said. “You can bring her to the hotel the next time AJ has one of his functions. She’ll be your date. That way you’ll be able to hold off Natalie and any rumors about you and Clarissa at the same time.”
Slade nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll ask AJ when his next party is. It will give me an excuse to run into him tomorrow.”
Clarissa watched them for a moment, then because her curiosity got the best of her, she asked, “Who’s Kim?”
Slade smiled, a soft smile rich with inner meaning. “My best friend’s little sister. Well, at least he was my best friend until eighth grade when he moved to England.”