As he sat on the step and gazed down at his ex-wife’s latest
message, he frowned.
Why won’t you answer me?
she’d written.
She had a restraining order against him, and she had to
ask?
He scrolled up to read all the other messages he’d seen and
hadn’t responded to, but he stopped short of viewing the video she’d sent the
night he cut his hand. He knew if he saw that right now he wouldn’t be able to
stop himself from driving to L.A. and busting into her house to get Ty.
Really? You’re going to ignore me?
Maybe I should tell Ty his daddy doesn’t give a shit about him
anymore.
Your father’s looking for you. Where the hell are you?
You said you’d never marry again. What, were you too drunk to
realize you were saying “I do”? Or were you thinking with your cock again?
Who is the bitch? Your
publicist?
Were
you screwing her all along?
It was hateful, spiteful garbage. He wanted to text back, to
vent his anger and frustration as she felt free to do, but what would he say?
That he was bitterly disappointed? That they’d created a great kid, the best,
and he couldn’t understand why they hadn’t been able to get along?
Simon felt like such a failure—and everything he’d done to
escape the self-loathing just made it worse.
Leaning back, he closed his eyes and let the autumn air calm
him. He could think more clearly now than he had in months, could see that he
was at a turning point. It was time to cut the past away. Sure, he and Bella had
messed up their marriage. Sure, he had his regrets. But it was too late to
change any of that now. So how long was he going to hang on to the wreckage?
Not anymore, he decided. He was letting go, and he wanted Bella
to do the same. From here on out, they needed to handle all communication, at
least any communication that didn’t directly concern Ty, through their lawyers,
as they’d been advised to do.
But he doubted she would. He knew why she kept jabbing him. She
loved him almost as much as she hated him. As twisted as that was, he
understood. He’d been struggling with the same love-hate compulsion, which was
another reason he’d gotten himself into so much trouble.
Fortunately, Gail had changed everything.
His thoughts turned to his publicist and what they’d shared
tonight. Something had changed, grown serious. He’d noticed it in himself as
much as her. They’d approached their lovemaking with an emotional intensity that
hadn’t been there before, as if possessing each other mattered far more than
achieving a physical release. And he’d welcomed that new emotional element,
because Gail satisfied him more deeply than Bella ever could.
Somehow Gail, someone he would’ve considered a highly unlikely
prospect, given their many differences, had managed to plug the gaping hole in
his chest, to stop the bleeding caused by his divorce, his father, his
mother—all of it. He wasn’t sure how long being with her would feel this right.
He didn’t trust what he was experiencing to last. But he owed Gail enough
loyalty to put an end, in
every
way, to what had
come before, with Bella.
Please let me know if Ty needs anything,
he typed.
I will do everything I can for
him. But other than that, don’t contact me.
He reread his words, then
smiled as he added,
I’m happily married.
27
“D
o you see it yet?” Josh’s voice was even
more animated than usual.
Gail moved the phone to her other ear as she opened the link
he’d just sent her. There, front and center, was a picture of her and Simon on
the porch last night with the heading Hot Honeymoon. As she straddled him, his
hands circled her waist and he stared up at her. They weren’t photographed from
the front, but there was no doubting their identities. “I’m there.”
“Is that really you?”
Clearly, that was her. She looked completely caught up in the
moment—and she had been. She and Simon had made love again this morning, a
gentle, sweet coupling that was a stark contrast to the explosion of desire last
night. She couldn’t decide which she’d enjoyed more. She’d liked both. Sex was
so much better when you were madly in love....
“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 opposite 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.”