Relieved to be safe in her little beach house, Gail lowered the blinds in her bedroom, curled up on her bed and stared at Callie’s picture and contact information on her cell phone. She’d never purposely ducked a friend’s call before. At least not one of her friends from Whiskey Creek.
“Oh, what the heck,” she mumbled. “Get it over with.” Once the news that she was seeing Simon O’Neal broke, she’d have to worry about her phones being tapped or her house being bugged—laughable considering she was no head of state or criminal informant. Her only claim to fame would be that she was “dating” a box office hit.
But tabloids were big business, hence the worry that someone could stoop to such means to get inside information. She might as well use this time to prepare her friends and family, before sightings of her and Simon began to appear in the media.
Her father should’ve been her first call, but Gail preferred to break into this easily. It was the weekend. She had that going for her. With so many people out doing other things, word wouldn’t spread quite as fast as it would on a weekday.
Callie picked up on the second ring. “Jeez, there you are. I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”
“Sorry. Been working.”
“On a Saturday?”
Gail pictured her curvaceous bombshell of a friend. She used to wish she looked like Callie, who resembled Marilyn Monroe. “Always.”
“You should really take a day off here and there.”
“You’ve mentioned that before. What’s up?”
“I’ve been dying to tell you something.”
“What?”
“You’re not going to believe it.”
Callie wouldn’t believe what Gail had to say, either. “Try me.”
“Matt’s moving back to town!” she announced with a “ta da” flourish.
Sure she must’ve heard wrong, Gail gripped her chest.
“Hello?” Callie said. “Did I lose you?”
She’d forgotten to breathe. Air. She needed air. Taking a big gulp, she sat up and forced words out as she exhaled. “No... I’m... I haven’t gone anywhere.”
“Did you hear what I said?”
This had to be a mistake. Matt wouldn’t leave Wisconsin in the middle of football season. “What happened? He didn’t get injured again, did he?”
“Not a new injury, no. Just more of the same old stuff. Knee’s acting up.”
Gail wasn’t sure how to react. She’d been in love with Matt since she was in middle school. They’d finally gone out in July and nearly wound up in bed together. But, to her severe disappointment, he hadn’t called since. “So...is he out of the NFL for good?”
“I don’t think so. They had to do a second surgery, and he’s in therapy, but he’s planning to return to Green Bay next season.”
Too agitated to remain on her bed, Gail got up and began to pace. “How did you find out? You talked to him?”
“No. My mother heard the news while she was having her hair done. You know what this town is like.”
Gail had been hoping Matt would come home eventually, had dreamed of it. Given the opportunity, she thought he might ask her out again. But she found herself cringing at the possibility that he wouldn’t be able to continue playing football. He loved the sport like nothing else. “Do you know how long he’ll be staying?”
“Months. Until he’s recovered.”
“Wow.” She pivoted near the French doors that opened onto her postage stamp of a backyard. “I hope... I hope it heals well.”
“You mean you hope it heals slowly,” Callie said with a laugh. “I thought of you as soon as I heard. He’ll be here when you come home for Thanksgiving in a few weeks.” She put some innuendo into her voice. “With you two in the same town for a few days, you never know what might happen.”
Nothing would happen now because Gail wasn’t going home. And even if she did, she’d be married. She’d been waiting years for this news—and it had to come on the day she’d made a business arrangement to marry someone else. “He’s probably got a girlfriend,” she said. Maybe that was why he hadn’t called her after their date last summer. Maybe there’d been someone else all along....
“Nope. Word has it he’s as single as he’s ever been.”
So they would’ve had a chance?
Suddenly claustrophobic, Gail went out onto the patio where she liked to read or answer email. Normally, she loved it out here, but her piece of heaven didn’t hold the same magic for her today. Her heart had been yanked back to the Sierra Nevada foothills, to the historic gold-mining town where she’d grown up and so many of her friends still lived.
The sound of laughter and voices from the beach, only ten feet or so from her fence, engulfed her. So did the cool, moist air of autumn and the briny scent of the ocean. She closed her eyes as she considered backing out of the deal with Simon. But the practical side of her wouldn’t allow it. What did she think—that she and Matt would bump into each other and he’d suddenly regret not pursuing the relationship? Why would that happen now when he’d gone back to Wisconsin and basically forgotten about her after they’d all but had sex?
It wouldn’t. For the sake of her future and her employees, she needed to live up to the commitment she’d made to Simon. “There’s just one problem,” she heard herself say.
“What’s that?”
She felt she sounded wooden, mechanical, but soldiered on. “I can’t come home next month.”
“Why not?”
“I’m...sort of involved with someone else, someone who lives here.” She figured she’d be better off not mentioning the “M” word. She could always justify her marriage by saying it was an impulsive act, something they’d done while visiting Vegas. Otherwise, she’d send the whole town of Whiskey Creek into an uproar.
There was a slight pause. “Since when?”
“It’s been a few months.”
“You’ve never mentioned anyone.”
Gail slipped past two trellises to gaze over the fence at the inline skaters rocketing down the walkway, the athletes playing sand volleyball beyond that and the waders at the water’s edge. “I didn’t think it would go anywhere.”
“If you’re willing to miss seeing Matt, it must be serious.”
The scent of damp wood and seaweed filled her nostrils. It didn’t matter that L.A. and Whiskey Creek were in the same state. They were as different as two places could be. No wonder she hadn’t thought of all the complications she’d bring to her personal relationships when she’d decided to save Simon’s image—and her business—with a temporary marriage. “More serious than it was before.”
“Are you in love, G.?”
“I...might be.” She was waffling, but her response shocked her friend enough that Callie didn’t seem to notice.
“Oh, my gosh! Who’s the lucky guy?”
Wincing at the reaction she’d receive when she uttered the name, Gail made her way back toward the bedroom. “Simon O’Neal.”
Callie’s pause extended into awkward silence. No doubt she’d expected Gail to add, “Not the Simon you’re thinking of.” When she didn’t, Callie said it for her.
“You’re not talking about the Simon O’Neal, are you? The actor? I know he was your client before you fired him. But you said he was an asshole.”
Gail was going to get this a lot. She’d complained far too much to her friends. “I was frustrated when I said that.”
“So it is Simon.”
The wind chimes on her porch tinkled softly. “Yes.”
“You’re dating him even though you told him you wouldn’t work for him anymore?”
Her bedroom seemed far cooler and darker than before her excursion into the afternoon sunshine. But she went inside and closed the door. “The stress of trying to have a professional relationship while seeing each other caused everything to blow up. You can imagine how difficult it would be to date someone so famous. We were sneaking around, and he was...acting out because of...you know, the divorce, and I was wondering how I could continue to represent him if I was emotionally involved with him. I swore I’d never date one of my clients. You’ve heard me say that. It’s just not wise.” She was talking too fast and too much and throwing in too many justifications. She needed to be careful but couldn’t seem to catch herself until Callie interrupted.
“Speaking of the divorce, it’s only been a few months since he and his wife split.”
Gail kicked off her flip-flops and smoothed her bare feet against the plush rug near her bed. “Actually, she took Ty and moved out over a year ago. The divorce has been final for six months.”
“Okay. About a year, then. He could still be on the rebound, Gail. If he ever loved Bella to begin with. You can’t tell me his behavior doesn’t spook you. It would have to. What about all the things he’s done?”
He spooked her, all right. But she’d never be able to do business in L.A. again if she didn’t come through. “The divorce was an acrimonious one. I’ll be the first to admit that. But you have to understand it’s been really, really hard on him.”
“I don’t think it’s been any easier on his ex-wife. Last I heard, he showed up at her house drunk and got into a fight with her brother. You shouldn’t be dating someone who...who’s spinning out of control, G.”
Gail laughed uncomfortably. “Come on, Callie. He’ll get turned around. It’s not easy living under a microscope.”
“I understand. But...you’re the most stable, levelheaded girl I know. Why would you get involved with someone who needs so much therapy? He cheated on his wife with six different women.”
At last count. Gail was pretty sure he’d been shooting for Tiger’s record. “He screwed up, ah, literally.” She managed a weak chuckle at her bad pun. “But it’s killing him to be kept from his little boy.”
“I’d like to believe you, but most people who feel bad about losing their kids resist jumping from one bed to the next because they know it won’t help their case.”
Gail squeezed her forehead. “He was depressed, fatalistic, going through a rough time. That’s not who he really is.”
“The pictures in the tabloids, showing him with one woman after another, sure don’t make him look depressed and fatalistic. He’s living the high life.”
Gail suspected that appearing so happy in public was a purposeful cover, a way to save face, but she couldn’t use that in her argument. And if this was how it was going with Callie, she cringed to think of the conversation she’d have with her father.
Suddenly Gail was glad Simon had refused to go to Whiskey Creek. She needed to keep him away at all costs. “The tabloids make up a lot of that stuff.”
“You once told me there’s a kernel of truth behind most of those stories.”
She’d been so transparent about everything that she had no wiggle room left. “It’s more complicated than it seems. He had a horrible childhood.”
“So...you feel sorry for him? For a rich, spoiled, self-indulgent movie star?”
“You don’t even know him. How can you judge?”
“His mistakes are public knowledge!”
“I see a different side, okay? He’s a good man.” She cringed because she had no confidence in that statement. She’d fantasized about him as much as anyone, but she’d known in her heart that the real Simon couldn’t live up to the man in her dreams. “Can you give him a break? Please? For me?”
“I’m just saying...before you get too committed to Simon, maybe you should come home and see if there’s anything between you and Matt. Matt’s a great guy.”
Callie would know. He’d been her neighbor growing up. But Gail had too much on the line to risk it all on the hope that Matt Stinson would finally return her interest. Dropping onto the bed, she watched the fan rotate overhead. “My relationship with Matt has been completely one-sided.”
“You kissed last summer.”
“He hasn’t called since.”
“Because he’s too focused on his career. He doesn’t want to risk getting involved with someone like you, someone who’s marriage material. He’s not ready for that kind of commitment. He’s said as much.”
“He has?”
“Not in so many words,” she hedged. “But I know he thinks you’re amazing.”
Torn, Gail rubbed her face. “He could’ve followed up, come to see me.”
“At the moment football is his whole life. But at least he’s not some hotheaded philanderer who’s using his power and money to destroy everyone around him. Where can you expect your relationship with Simon to go? If even one-tenth of what I’ve read about him is true—”
“Have some faith in me, Callie. I don’t fall in love easily. There’s...something inside him that’s worth fighting for.” She believed that much. Occasionally she caught a glimpse of Simon’s good side, saw how warm and generous he could be. If she could figure out a way to avoid his rougher edges, they might be able to establish an equilibrium of sorts—build a friendship over the course of their marriage. “Besides, people can change.”
That was the classic line used by every woman who’d ever dated the wrong guy, but it couldn’t be refuted so she had to go with it. People could change. But they seldom did, and Callie latched on to that immediately.
“And if he doesn’t? Why take the risk? His last wife was heartbroken and publicly humiliated—”
“You don’t know what caused the breakup of his marriage.”
“I think six affairs would do it, don’t you?” Obviously Callie thought being with Simon was a huge mistake. The other people who cared about Gail would, too. But they didn’t know she already understood how the whole thing would play out, that she wasn’t in love with Simon and never would be, because she knew too much about him.
“You’re being really hard on him. You’d like him if you gave him half a chance.” Simon had to be the most charismatic person on the planet—but only if he cared enough to bother pouring on the charm.
“When will we get to meet him?” Callie asked.
“Maybe I’ll bring him home for Christmas,” she said, but just talking to Callie had convinced her that she’d never contest his decision not to visit her hometown.
“Okay, but... I wish you were coming next month. Everyone was looking forward to it.” Callie’s voice reflected her disappointment. No doubt she thought a few days with the old gang would set Gail straight.
“I’ll reschedule soon.” The buzzer that indicated someone was at her front gate sounded, so Gail got back on her feet. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Would the paparazzi be bold enough to come to her house and ring the doorbell?
Some would. Her gate faced the narrow street leading down to the beach, which meant it was accessible to anyone passing by. And the value of taking the right photographs made the paparazzi unbelievably intrusive.
“I’ve got company,” she said. “I have to go. Don’t tell anyone about Simon, okay? Not yet. First, I need to break the news to my dad.”
“I won’t say a word, but...good luck with Martin.” Callie knew he wouldn’t take the news well.
“Thanks. I’ll call you in a few days.” Gail disconnected as the buzzer went off again.
Setting the phone aside, she hurried out of her small cottage and down the flagstone path dividing the abundance of plants in her front yard. There was a man at her gate. Despite the foliage that provided her with a modicum of privacy, she could see part of his dark head above the tall stone fence and arch of the gate. He appeared to be wearing a uniform, one typical of a courier service, but that could be a trick.
“Who is it?” she called.
He tried to look over at her, so she flattened herself against the gate and peered through the crack.
Unfortunately, he was standing too close for her to see more than a four-inch square of his chest.
“Courier,” he said. “I have a package for you.”
“Go ahead and leave it.”
“Can’t. Requires a signature.”
Really? She opened the gate by a wary inch, just enough to see a little more of the guy.
He seemed legit. He wasn’t holding a camera, he seemed to be alone and an ID badge hung from the collar of his shirt.
“Are you going to sign for this or not?” he asked impatiently. “I’ve got other deliveries to make.”
When she spotted a small truck with his company logo double-parked on the street, she finally released her death grip on the gate and swung it wide. “Yes. Sorry.”
He handed her his clipboard. “Right here.”
She scribbled her name, and he gave her the small box he’d been holding.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
He walked off without responding; a moment later, she heard the rumble of his delivery truck. No doubt he thought she was some kind of paranoid hermit. But she didn’t care. She had reason to be skittish.
After shutting and locking the gate, she examined what the courier had given her. The return address indicated it had come from O’Neal Productions—Simon’s company.
Ian had said he’d mail her a copy of the contract once Simon had signed it, but this wasn’t flat. The size and shape resembled a jeweler’s box.
Most likely the wedding ring, she supposed. But that wasn’t it at all. Once she opened the package, she saw that Ian—she assumed it was Ian—had sent her a pendant, one with a giant ruby and two diamond baguettes. Classy, solid and probably expensive, it was exactly what she might’ve chosen herself if she’d had a cool ten or twenty grand to drop on a necklace.
“Nice,” she breathed. But...why the unexpected gift?
She guessed it was Ian’s way of keeping her moving in the right direction—a sample of the finer things she’d enjoy while married to someone so rich. But when she read the accompanying handwritten note, she realized the pendant hadn’t come from Ian at all. It was more personal than that.
“I’ll make it up to you where I can. Simon.”