Once they got inside the house, away from the photographers’ prying eyes, Gail suggested she sleep in the room next to Simon’s, where they’d each have some privacy. She didn’t want to worry about brushing up against him during the night, and she didn’t see how having her own room in such a big house would hurt. With her hair mussed and her clothes wrinkled, she’d still be able to put on a good show for any media that had the tenacity to wait until morning.
But he said he had too many domestic workers who might notice and would, no doubt, find the arrangement odd enough to mention to others. So Gail relented. They had to look like lovers, which meant she’d probably be the first woman to spend the night in Simon’s bed without taking off her clothes.
Actually, she did undress—but in his expansive closet, with the door closed. She borrowed a T-shirt and a pair of boxers so she could at least be comfortable. Then she climbed into bed beside him, propped some pillows behind her back as he’d done and watched an indie film he’d been meaning to vet on his big screen.
“You’ve got a nice setup here,” she said when the credits began to roll. She was wondering what they’d do next. Even if he could go to sleep, she couldn’t. Ever since they’d closed the door to his bedroom, she’d been trying to pretend that spending time with him was no different from hanging out with any other platonic friend. She and Joshua had shared a hotel room at various PR conventions, hadn’t they?
But this didn’t feel the same. Besides the obvious difference in Josh’s and Simon’s sexual orientation, Simon was sitting only a couple feet away from her wearing nothing but his boxers. She’d asked him to put on some pajamas, but he’d given her that look of his, the one that said he’d do as he damn well pleased.
His stubbornness on that point should’ve bothered her more than it did. She had a long list of complaints about his character, but she couldn’t fault his looks or his sex appeal.
“It’s not hard to have a nice setup when you’ve got money,” he said, and used the remote to start flipping through channels. “It’s the things you can’t buy that are difficult.”
Even in the dark, with only the glow of the TV screen to light the room, his bare chest drew her gaze. She knew most women in America would give anything to trade places with her, but all she wanted was to go home. Being here, feeling what she was feeling—it wasn’t good. She was the one who’d insisted on the “no sex” mandate, and yet having sex with Simon was suddenly all she could think about. No doubt he’d been hoping that would be the case when he brought her home.
“Are you talking about peace of mind? Or personal relationships?” Using all the self-restraint she could muster, she shifted her attention back to the TV.
“Both.”
She nodded. “You do need some help in those areas.”
With a withering glance that said he didn’t appreciate her comment, he switched to the Golf Channel.
“Golf? Really?”
“Wow, this is like being married.” He kept surfing, but what he chose next didn’t make her any happier.
“Oh, this is perfect,” she said. “I’m equally interested in basketball.”
One dark eyebrow slid up. “It’s SportsCenter. And they’re talking about the Colts. They’re a football team.”
She hadn’t really been paying attention or she would’ve known that from following Matt’s career. “Whatever. You sure know how to entertain a woman.”
He gave her a crooked smile. “You’re the one who tied my hands.”
“Sort of makes you appreciate all those women who’ll put out, doesn’t it?” She manufactured a yawn.
“Sort of makes me mad you won’t,” he grumbled.
She couldn’t help laughing at his surliness. Their date tonight hadn’t been bad. As a matter of fact, she’d enjoyed it. Despite some of his comments since, she was beginning to believe they might actually get along. “We could always watch the shopping network.”
“I’d rather stick a fork in my eye.”
“But it’s time I started spending your money.”
“Who says?”
“Isn’t that what wives of movie stars do?”
“You’ve made it abundantly clear that you won’t really be my wife.”
“And you’ve made it clear that I could still have some decent pocket change.”
He got up. “Fine. I don’t care. Just shop on your own time.”
She pulled the blankets higher. “Whose time is this?”
“Mine,” he said without looking back.
“According to who—you?”
“It’s part of your contract.” He went into the bathroom and shut the door.
“I didn’t sign anything that said I had to watch TV with you,” she called after him.
He poked his head out. “You don’t. You only have to share my bed and pretend to like it. So feel free to roll over and go to sleep.”
She tried. But she was too aware of every move he made.
A few minutes later, he was back in bed, surfing stations again. “How long are you going to be up?” she asked.
“It’s still early.”
“In which country? Because here it’s after one o’clock.”
“One more program.”
“Fine,” she said with a sigh. “But I’m going to sleep.”
His hair stood up as he raked a hand through it. “Does that mean I can finally watch what I want?”
“Of course,” she said, and flopped over, but she’d expected him to choose something sports-related, like before. She had no idea he’d settle on a skin flick.
Male and female moans immediately drew her attention back to the screen, where a woman with obscenely large breasts was having sex with a man whose body parts were equally exaggerated. It was low-budget, down and dirty, but it was effective. Gail hadn’t been with a man in so long, a sight like this couldn’t fail to trigger a deluge of hormones. “What are you doing?” she gasped.
He blinked innocently at her. “Watching TV.”
“That’s pornography!”
“You just said you were going to sleep. I said, ‘Does that mean I can finally watch what I want?’ and you said, ‘Of course.’”
“But that’s cheating! You’re trying to get me interested.”
He raised his hands as he shook his head. “Not my plan at all.”
Then he was after revenge. No doubt he thought it was funny to arouse her, since she was the one who’d taken physical satisfaction off the menu.
When the woman threw her head back and cried out in ecstasy, Gail felt her face flush. “I don’t want to watch this!”
“Fine. Then choose something else.” Tossing her the remote, he scooted down and closed his eyes.
Gail selected a news channel for a few minutes, then a cop show for a brief time, then an old rerun of CHiPs. She’d won that skirmish, she told herself, satisfied that she’d gained control of the remote. But as the minutes lengthened and Simon’s breathing grew regular, she couldn’t help going back to see if the show he’d chosen was still on. And then she couldn’t seem to pull away from it until it was over. By the time she turned off the TV and put the remote on the nightstand, she was far from sleep. As a matter of fact, she was so hot and bothered she wanted to slug Simon.
“Something wrong?” he asked when she couldn’t get comfortable.
He hadn’t moved in some time. She’d assumed he was asleep. “No, why?”
“I thought you didn’t want to watch Here Comes Pussy.”
She could hear the laughter in his voice and felt a certain amount of embarrassment. “I didn’t really watch it. I was just...surfing around.”
“Sure you were.”
He’d caught her and he knew it. “It was your fault!” She threw a pillow at him, which he batted away.
“You were in charge of the remote.”
“I told myself not to go back to it, but...”
“But?” he challenged.
She stopped searching for an excuse he wouldn’t believe, anyway. “It was sort of fascinating,” she admitted. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
This seemed to startle him. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Damn, you really are straitlaced.” He didn’t sound pleased.
“And you’re already corrupting me,” she muttered.
“Just living up to my reputation.” He covered a yawn. “Anyway, if I’d known it was that great, I would’ve watched it with you. What was so fascinating about it?”
She couldn’t find the words to explain, but having those images on TV while he was lying next to her, all but naked, had been erotic. Which went to show how poor her sex life had been so far. He hadn’t even touched her and it was still the best sexual experience of her life. “It just...was.” Since he’d played the male lead in her fantasy, she decided she’d be much better off to let it go at that.
“Good to know you have a libido,” he said.
She shot into a sitting position. “Was that some sort of test?”
“It was a joke.” He reached out and took hold of her chin so that she had to look him in the eye. “But since it was a little more effective than I expected, I’ll do right by you if you want.”
She might’ve gone for it. There was a small part of her that was urging her to take what she could get. But he was laughing at her again. She could feel the bed shake with his mirth.
“You are so bad!” she said.
Dropping his hand, he sobered instantly. “I know.”
* * *
These days, Simon slept only in snatches and giving up alcohol wasn’t making getting through the night any easier. His mouth was dry, his hands felt shaky and he was nauseous. It was nothing for which he needed a doctor; just his body’s way of trying to demand he return to his earlier habits. Maybe it was more of a psychological craving than a physical one. Regardless, he woke up only forty minutes later and couldn’t go back to sleep.
Shit... He’d hoped by giving himself a bed partner, even one who slept on her own side and wouldn’t let him cross that imaginary line, he’d have better luck, some reason to stay put instead of rambling around the house. But nothing seemed to help. He figured he could take a sleeping pill, but considering his state of mind, he was afraid of where that might lead. He didn’t want to toss away one crutch only to grab another. Ty deserved a better effort than that.
Rolling over, he scooted toward Gail. He was afraid to get too close for fear she’d think he was making a move. But maybe the steady sound of her breathing and the solidity of her presence would anchor him, somehow ease his insomnia. If he kept his eyes closed, he could pretend she was Bella and this was before they’d torn each other apart—that Ty was still a baby sleeping in the next room.
It might’ve worked, but Gail wasn’t asleep.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, slightly embarrassed when he realized she was watching him.
“Don’t you ever sleep?”
“Not much. Not these days. What are you doing up?”
“Thinking.”
He punched his pillow. “Be careful. Don’t do too much of that or it’ll drive you crazy.”
“Is that what it does to you?”
“Unless I stop the whole process by dousing my brain with alcohol.”
“Which you can’t do at the moment.”
“Or any moment in the next two years.”
“I’m glad you’re taking that seriously.”
He blew out a sigh. “It’s been a whole seventy-two hours.” He could’ve given her the minutes, too. He was pretty sure she understood that.
“So...now you’re looking for other distractions.”
“Except there’s nothing on the list of approved activities.”
She adjusted the bedding. “Is that why you didn’t watch the porn flick you showed me?”
“Part of the reason.”
“I suppose you could start gambling, if you must have a bad habit.”
“I’m willing to consider anything.”
“I believe it.” When she laughed, he realized she was more attractive than he’d ever given her credit for. She wasn’t a beauty in the classic sense, but...there was something about her.
“You’re a lot prettier when you laugh,” he said.
She didn’t respond, just stared at him with those serious gray eyes, and he could tell she’d discounted his words as soon as he’d uttered them.
“I meant that as a compliment.”
“You don’t have to pay me compliments.” Her shrug suggested she didn’t believe him, anyway. “I don’t expect you to pretend to see something that’s not there.”
The silence stretched with only the swoop of the ceiling fan to interrupt it. “Is that why you won’t let me touch you?” he asked at length. “You think, for me, it’s all about the perfect body?”
She seemed to consider her answer carefully. “No, I don’t think you care what I look like or that you’d even notice. For you, sex is like alcohol. You’re just trying to deaden the pain.”
She was right. Since the breakdown of his marriage he’d gone from one woman to the next. Some of them he’d never seen before or after, never even learned their names.
“You’re going to be hard person to live with, Ms. DeMarco,” he said.
Her lips curved into a wry smile. “Why’s that? Because you can’t bullshit me?”
“Because you see enough truth to think you know it all.”
“I haven’t been wrong yet.”
“Yes, you have. I do think you’re pretty,” he said, and got up.
She leaned on her elbows. “Where are you going?”
“I have a project I’m working on.”
“It’s the middle of the night.”
“I need something to do,” he said, and pulled on his jeans.
* * *
Gail woke up alone in Simon’s bed. After dressing in last night’s clothes, she wandered out of the room and down to the kitchen, where his chef, a stout man who reminded her of Emil Villa, insisted on making her an omelet for breakfast. Once she was finished eating, Simon’s driver, a handsome younger man of maybe twenty-five, came in through the French doors and announced that he’d be happy to take her home whenever she wanted to leave.
“Where’s Simon?” She gazed out a wall of glass toward the pool—the direction from which the driver had come.
He set about gathering his keys. “I’m sure he’s on the property. All the cars are here. But, honestly, I can’t say where. He texted me earlier and asked me to drive you home whenever you’re ready. That’s all I know.”
Arching a disbelieving eyebrow, she waited for him to look up. When he did, he acted a little embarrassed, as if he understood that she knew he was covering for his boss. From the driver’s perspective, Simon had had his fun with her; now his job was to drop her off, like he’d probably done with so many women before her.
But why would Simon treat her the same as all the others when they needed to convince everyone he felt more for her?
“Or... I could text him and tell him you want to see him—if you like,” the young man added reluctantly.
Mere platitudes. He didn’t expect her to take him up on that offer. He was obviously skeptical it would do any good, even if she did.
Gail didn’t dare risk having Simon brush her off in front of his staff. Not saying goodbye was bad enough. “No, that’s fine,” she said, but to compensate she fondled the ruby pendant at her throat. “I’m ready whenever you are. I just wanted to thank him for the necklace.”
On learning that Simon had given her such an expensive gift, the cook and the driver exchanged a meaningful glance, but they said nothing more. The chauffeur, dressed in a polo shirt and chinos, grabbed a pair of sunglasses off the counter and led her through the house to a tunnel that ran to the garage—a garage that appeared to be detached when viewed from ground level.
“This reminds me of the Bat Cave,” she said.
He opened the back door of the limousine. “Comes in handy.”
“I bet.” Raking her fingers through her tangled hair, she settled against the leather upholstery. She had none of her toiletries, hadn’t even been able to brush her teeth. Maybe Simon had done her a favor by letting her duck out with no farewell.
I do think you’re pretty....
She’d mulled over those words long after he’d left last night. They rose in her mind now, but she quickly shoved them away. She could never compete with the kind of women he usually enjoyed. There was no reason to get excited about a “you’re not so bad.” What he’d said didn’t matter, anyway. This was a job.
The driver began to back out, but she stopped him. “Wait! Do we have to take this car?” It attracted so much attention.
Eyes hidden by his silvery lenses, he looked in the rearview mirror. “It has tinted windows. Simon said to get you home without letting anyone bother you.”
So he’d done something to convince his staff that he might care about her well-being. She supposed she should be grateful for that small courtesy, but she was still a little put out that he hadn’t bothered to see her. Had he ever come to bed?
She couldn’t remember. Once she’d fallen asleep, she hadn’t stirred until morning. “This is fine.”
Her cell phone buzzed as they made a three-point turn and started down the drive. She’d gotten a text. From Callie. How’d it go with your father?
Not good, she responded.
I’m sorry. But...you might want to listen to him.
Gail didn’t text back. She’d crossed her father and was ignoring her friend’s advice because she’d already committed herself to this course of action. But...what made her think her plan would work? Simon had just sloughed her off on his hired help like he did all the women he didn’t care about, even though he understood the need to treat her as if she was special. What was going through his mind?
She had no idea, but part of her feared he might be drinking. And if he was drinking she needed to know about it. She had so much riding on this campaign. There was more at risk than her business; she had her relationship with her father to consider, too. She wouldn’t let Simon prove Martin right. Simon could change, pull himself together and stop his downward spiral. And she was going to do everything in her power to see that he did.
“Take me back,” she said.
The driver slowed in surprise. They’d just passed through the gate. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I want to go back to the house right now.”