Infamous (11 page)

He jumped and a hand clamped over her foot. Trapped, she wiggled her toes against him, pressing down until she felt him press back involuntarily. His mouth was a grim line, but his pupils had dilated until there was only a thin band of brown around the edges.

“Cut that out,” he said.

Jessica gave another wiggle with her toes. His hand tightened around her foot.

“Are you sure, Morgan?” she said. “I want to make sure to give good value.”

Teach him to be careful what he wished for. The tablecloth wasn’t long enough to hide what she was doing. Anyone who happened to glance this way was going to get an eyeful. She smiled. If there was one thing Jessica Sinclair was known for, it was living right down to everyone’s worst expectations.

There was no telling what Morgan might have said after that little bombshell. His eyes left hers and focused behind her. He eased her foot away from him and a polite mask slipped over his face.

“Well, well, children,” a familiar voice crowed. “Playing footsies under the table?”

She jerked her foot out of Morgan’s hand and tried to discreetly jam it back into her pump as she turned to greet Mason and Susan.

“Jessica had a cramp,” Morgan lied.

Mason winked. “Sure, I love a good, um … cramp.” He grinned. “Hullo, luv,” he leaned in for a lip-lock, but she averted her head at the last minute, turning it into a respectable kiss on the cheek. He gave in gracefully, but kept his hand on the back of her chair when he straightened.

“Mason, I didn’t see you here.” Jessica peered around him. “Hello, Susan, we haven’t had a chance to talk in a while. Do you want to join us?”

Morgan looked like he wanted to object, but Susan forestalled him. “No, we just wanted to stop by and say how glad we are that you two have patched things up. We’re already seated with some friends. ”

“Oh? Anyone I know?”

“In this place?” Mason sneered. “Not likely.”

In his off-white suit and striped burgundy shirt, Mason stood out like a parrot among sparrows. His blond hair was artfully tousled. In lieu of a tie, a silk scarf was looped around his neck.

Susan, always the diplomat, swatted him on the arm. “Now Mace, the food here is fantastic and it’s so nice to be someplace where people aren’t staring at us all the time.”

“Speak for yourself, darling,” Mason said. “Although I will admit the food is exceptional.”

“We’re here wrapping up a little staff meeting for a committee I’m on,” Susan said. “Mason may have mentioned the new charity I’m sponsoring.”

“For the underprivileged children, wasn’t it? Something to do with medical assistance?” Jessica smiled up at her. “Mason did say something about it. I believe he mentioned a doctor that founded it?”

“Yes, that’s who we’re here with tonight.” Susan’s usually serene eyes were sparkling and her face flushed. “He’s quite brilliant, a real humanitarian. The program sponsors low-cost clinics and mobile aid units for inner-city children as well as helping to pick up hospital and drug expenses.”

So. No wonder Mason was antsy. It must be the doctor he thought was interested in Susan.

Morgan was listening to Susan’s speech with an expression of polite interest, but his gaze kept going back to Mason’s hand at the back of her chair. It was resting against her back. As Mason raised it to stroke a strand of her hair, Morgan broke into the conversation.

“Susan is here for a committee meeting. What are you doing here, Knight? As you said, not really your type of place.”

“Just along for the ride — got to eat, ya’ know? Good luck finding Jess here, though.” Mason gave the curl a tug. “With the three of us here, everyone will want to be seen here next week. Be surprised if
you
can get a reservation in less than a month after tonight. Maybe you can just have Jessica call next time.”

Great. Mason could be fiercely protective and it was obvious Morgan was still on his shit-list. She smiled up at him. It was not a happy smile. It was a smile that said,
do not help me
. She reached up and disentangled his hand from her hair, giving it a little warning squeeze.

“Another restaurant to mark of my list,” Morgan mourned. “Can’t stand them when they get cluttered up with celebrity wannabes. Place will go straight downhill.”

Susan watched the little byplay with interest.
Here it comes
, Jessica thought.

Susan turned to Morgan. “Actually,” she said, “Mason is being too modest about his reason for being here. He has just made a very generous contribution to our cause, haven’t you, darling?”

Mason looked a little embarrassed. “Well, hell, they’re just kids, aren’t they? Can hardly expect them to pay for their own appendectomies and chemo, can we? Nice tax write-off, too.”

“Exactly right,” Susan nodded. “After all,” she turned her gaze on Morgan, “as a father I’m sure you would be devastated if you couldn’t provide medical care for Kinsey. And,” she continued smoothly, “as a business owner I’m sure you’re always looking for a way to offset taxes.”

Mason’s eyes took on a glint. “Don’t waste your time, Susan. These financial guys are only interested in the bottom line. He’s probably counting on reducing his taxes by lobbying against children’s health care subsidies.”

“I don’t know, Knight,” Morgan drawled. “As your wife said, a tax deduction is always nice. What’s the going contribution? I’ll have to see if I can match you.”

Susan named a figure that made Jessica’s jaw drop. She looked up at Mason in awe. “Really, Mason? That’s very generous. Susan is lucky to have you to support her causes!”

“No big deal.” He eyed Morgan challengingly. “Made a bundle off that last movie with Jessie’s dad. Just blow it on fast cars and wild parties if I kept it all.”

“I see,” Morgan said. He tapped one finger on the table thoughtfully. “You make a compelling argument, Knight.” He gave him a hard smile before turning back to Susan. “I’ll have to have a look at the financials before I sign off on it, but if everything is in order I think you can put me down for at least twice that.” He pulled a small silver case out of his pocket and extracted a business card. “Give my office a call on Monday. I’ll tell them to expect the paperwork.”

Susan beamed and grasped his hand as she took the card. “I don’t know what to say, Morgan. We’re going to be able to accomplish so much with this. Thank you. You’ll have the paperwork on your desk first thing Monday.”

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention. The foundation is lucky to have such a dedicated advocate. Knight must be very proud of the hard work you do for such worthy causes.”

Jeez. He didn’t have to gush over her like that.

Mason must have thought the same. He finally released Jessica’s hand and shifted to drape his arm around Susan. “Couldn’t be more proud.” He pulled her close to him, away from Morgan. “Right little crusader our Susan--tabloids call her The Angel of Beverly Hills, you know.”

Susan blushed. “Don’t be silly, what else would I do with my time. I don’t have a glamorous career like you and Jessica to keep me busy.” She took his arm. “Come on, let’s get back and share the good news with the others.”

“Well,” Jessica told Morgan. “You’ve just been rolled by the angel of Beverly Hills.”

“Hmmmm?” Morgan was still watching Susan as she walked away.

“Susan is on the fundraising committee of every charity she’s involved with. She probably raises more real money for most of them over little chance meetings like this than she does from half the events she organizes. She may look innocent, but she’s a shark when it comes to drumming up contributions.”

Morgan quirked an eyebrow, “Really?” he said admiringly. “I could use a woman like that on my staff. Amazing.”

She watched Susan and Mason as they wove their way back through the tables to the other side of the restaurant. It occurred to her that Susan would have made a much more suitable wife for Morgan than she did. Underneath her fragile, blonde exterior, she had a sharp mind and killer instincts about people. In her tailored ice blue dress and low heels, she looked sophisticated and elegant — certainly not the type of woman who would do inappropriate things under the table in a high-priced restaurant.

She wondered, not for the first time, how she pulled it off. As a matter of fact, Susan had been right in the center of most of the same tabloid disasters that had starred Jessica and Mason. Somehow, the mud that stuck to Jessica seemed to slide off Susan like she was made of Teflon.
The Angel of Beverly Hills
had been seen as the restraining influence on the other two. Susan was one of her best friends; it had never bothered Jessica before that she had been spared the worst of the gossip and innuendo.

Now she felt a tiny twinge of resentment. It would be nice to have Morgan admire something she had accomplished. What would it be like to inspire grand humanitarian gestures instead of being given beautiful baubles for services rendered?

• • •

Morgan steered the powerful car onto the freeway and wondered where the evening had gone wrong. If this had been a business deal, he could have run a cost analysis and had an answer in no time. Jessica was never as easy as a balance sheet or income projection, though.

With his mind on the spreadsheet analogy, he tallied up the cost of the evening. Counting the bracelet, the meal (with wine pairings), and his little pissing contest with Knight, he figured he was out well over a hundred grand trying to impress her. Idiot. At least he could afford it. The bracelet had been admired and since ignored, he couldn’t remember a thing he had eaten, and Jessica had gazed adoringly at Knight, who dressed like reject from the seventies.

He remembered the way Knight’s hand had lingered on the back of her chair, just at her nape, the way his fingers had toyed with her hair, the way Jessica had grasped his hand like a lifeline.

She had withdrawn her foot from his lap fast enough when Knight showed up. Not that he approved of that kind of thing in public, but she had abandoned toying with him with embarrassing eagerness. When she had squeezed the bastard’s hand and given him that meaningful little look, he had felt a black rage bubbling up from somewhere deep inside.

What did she see in him? The way Morgan figured, half the trouble Jessica had gotten into in her life came from hanging around with Knight and his crowd. Then, when the chips were down, Knight had married someone else and hung Jessica out to dry. Her first book had spilled all the gory details.

He had been expecting most of it, the wild parties, the drugs, and other excesses. He had known she had a history with Knight. It hadn’t been pleasant reading, but he had told himself those things were in the past. He had ached for the confused, lost girl he had sensed between the lines. But in the end there had been one part he couldn’t forget or relegate to the past.

He forced himself to remember the lines in the final chapter that had turned his world upside down,
Marry her if you want — I don’t need you. I’ll find someone rich enough to buy and sell you — someone who can give me the lifestyle I want
. Being Jessica, she had done just that. She had found him, the stupid rube who had thought she was in love with him.

Now she was sitting in his car, close enough to touch, as unreachable as any star. He remembered the outrageous feel of her foot sliding up his thigh in the restaurant. He almost wished she would do something outrageous now — anything to let him know her thoughts were here with him and not following Knight back to Beverly Hills. He imagined her hand stroking up the same path her foot had, her head lowering into his lap.

Not that he would let her do something that dangerous in the car.

Looking down at the speedometer, he conscientiously eased his foot up on the accelerator. Somehow he had exceeded the posted limit. There was no sense adding a ticket to the night’s tab.

Jessica sat in front of the mirror mechanically pulling out the hairpins she and Kinsey had stuck in earlier. She could hear Morgan in the closet, hanging up his jacket and tie. It should have been very intimate, very domestic.
Scene: husband and wife prepare for bed after evening out
.

In the mirror, diamonds flashed on her wrist as her hand rose and fell. The evening had rattled her. She had thought their relationship was progressing, that they were making it work. They didn’t share the kind of closeness that she wanted, but she had been confident she was making progress. Then Morgan had made that stupid comment about the bracelet and Mason and Susan had shown up.

What did she know about making a marriage work? The only happy marriages she had seen were professionally scripted and cast. Anything that wasn’t quite perfect was reshot or left on the cutting room floor.

She wasn’t the type of person they cast for the heroine being carried off into the sunset, either. That was angelic Susan’s role. When things got a little uncomfortable, she slipped right back into her same bad-girl persona.

An image flashed into her mind’s eye.
The
image. The photograph that had been splashed across all the papers, the Internet. The picture that had cemented her already plunging reputation. Her car, smashed into the side of a tree. Mason, fly unzipped and shirt unbuttoned, half carrying her in one arm with a bottle of top-shelf vodka dangling from the other hand. She had been bleeding, barely conscious, and experiencing more than a minor “wardrobe malfunction.” Susan had been on the other side of the car, helping out the fourth occupant. It was the photograph of Jessica and Mason that had been the money shot, though.

She shook her head. She was
not
that person anymore. Was she? She had certainly felt herself sliding back into those old habits tonight.
Never let them see you bleed unless it brings home an Oscar
. It was something she had learned from her mother. Jessica had refined it over the years to turn every casual barb, every potential social disaster, into polish on her slick devil-may-care image. She had learned early on that no one was interested in the truth anyway.

She felt cold, the way she always did when she thought of that night. When she had sobered up, she had realized just how much worse it could have been. It had almost been a minivan in the opposite lane instead of the tree. It had been a wake-up call, not just for herself but for all of them — the first time they had ever questioned their hedonistic lifestyle.