“You just met six of my friends. And you want to talk about one who wasn’t even there?” she said as she put on her seat belt.
This was clearly a deflection. But Simon allowed it. For the moment. “Okay, let’s talk about Sophia.” He buckled his own belt. “Why did you refuse her invitation to dinner?”
“I didn’t refuse it. I said I’d call.”
He started the car. “Will you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why?” he asked as he shifted into Reverse.
She blew out a sigh. “I’m having a hard time forgiving her.”
“For?”
Facing the window as he backed out of the parking space, she waved at Ted, who was climbing into his SUV. “A lot of reasons.”
“We’re here for three months. I think you’ve got time to explain.”
“It’s old gossip,” she said as if it didn’t matter, but obviously it did, or she wouldn’t be holding a grudge.
They reached the exit, where he waited for an opening in traffic. “Everyone else knows, right?”
“Of course. There are no secrets in Whiskey Creek.”
“Then you might as well fill me in.”
“Fine.” She turned off the radio. “Back when we were in high school, her father was the mayor. She was an only child and very spoiled. She was also the most popular girl in school and dated Scott Harris, the best basketball player Eureka High has ever seen.” Her voice softened. “Scott was Joe’s best friend. And he was like another brother to me.”
Simon merged onto Main Street: Speed Limit 25. Just as well he hadn’t brought the Ferrari. “This story doesn’t feel like it’s going in a good direction.”
“No. He lost his life in a drunk-driving accident, and most people here blame Sophia.”
He winced. “Including you.”
“Maybe. To a point,” she said, obviously not wanting to commit herself. “It’s hard not to blame her.”
A bicyclist swerved around the corner. Simon swung wide to make room. “What happened?”
“He was expecting her to join him at a party one night, but she didn’t come. When someone mentioned that she’d been seen with another guy earlier in the day, he took off to find her, even though he was far too drunk to get behind the wheel.”
“No one tried to stop him?”
“Of course. He pretended to change his mind, then slipped out when the rest of us relaxed and stopped paying attention.”
Simon could guess what happened next. “He crashed?”
“Wound up in a ditch. It was too late by the time the paramedics arrived.”
“I’m sorry.”
She seemed lost in the memory. “He would’ve made a wonderful husband and father, had he been given the chance.”
“Was she with someone else?” he asked as they came to a red light. He couldn’t help wondering.
“She claims she wasn’t and no one’s stepped up to say, ‘I’m the other guy.’ There have been rumors, though.”
“Of course. It’s a small town. But blaming her for his drinking and driving is like blaming Bella for my bad behavior. Last I checked I don’t get to do that.”
She studied him. “You haven’t even tried.”
Because it felt too much like cheating. He had his faults but blaming others for his actions wasn’t one of them.
“Come to think of it, you should be commended for that,” she added.
Surprised by her concession, he glanced over to make sure she was serious. When he saw that she was, he shrugged. “So I have one redeeming feature.”
Her lips curved into a smile. “You’ve got a few others.”
A dose of sexual awareness warmed his blood. “Feel free to elaborate,” he said, tempting her to flirt a little more, but she backed off.
“I think you know what they are.”
The light turned green. “If you’re talking about my looks, I’m not particularly flattered. I had no control over the face I was given.”
“You’ve worked hard for that body.”
“All part of the job. But I’m glad you noticed.”
She scowled. “I’ve also noticed how easy it is for you to light up a room, how fast you neutralized all the people who should’ve been defensive of me. They fell for your charm almost immediately.”
He got stuck behind someone in an SUV who was waiting for a parking spot on the street. “Really? Because Callie seemed completely immune.”
“She’ll come around.”
Maybe. Maybe not. She’d seemed pretty unhappy. “What was that bit about Cheyenne and her mother?”
“Anita’s a piece of work. You wouldn’t believe what Cheyenne has been through. When she and her sister were little, her mother dragged them from one town to the next. They lived out of cars or in cheap motels. She didn’t even go to school until she moved here, and by then she was fourteen!”
The people who owned the Jetta in the parking space the SUV wanted began the process of loading up, but they had a baby and a toddler to strap in, and a stroller to contend with. “How did she fare?”
“Not as badly as you’d think. She’d taught herself a lot by then, is naturally very smart. But it took most of high school for her to catch up. And, of course, she didn’t get the chance to go to college, like the rest of us.”
“Her name’s unusual.”
“She thinks she was named after Cheyenne, Wyoming.”
“One of the cities they passed through.”
“You guessed it. Who knows where she’d be right now if Anita hadn’t gotten sick? That’s the only reason they settled down.”
“A haunted B and B, someone who didn’t start school until the age of fourteen, a woman blamed for the death of a local sports hero... You have an interesting group of friends.”
“And everyone knows too much about everyone else, like I told you before.”
“I guess that’s the downside of living in such a small place,” he said. “No one can forget. No one can forgive.”
“Publicity has made the whole world that small for you.”
That was one of his problems. The other was that he didn’t seem to be the best judge of character. Had he been able to detect the deep reservoir of insecurity that lurked beneath Bella’s beautiful face he would’ve had some inkling of what he was getting himself into. But he’d been oblivious. Or maybe Bella was right—and he’d somehow created her insecurity. To him, it seemed as if he’d tried everything to convince her he loved her. He had loved her, more than he’d ever loved anyone—other than Ty. She just couldn’t believe it for any length of time, had to make him prove it over and over and over.
Finally, the Jetta pulled into the street and the SUV took its place. “Tell me this,” he said.
“What?”
“If Sophia knows she’s not wanted, why did she show up at the coffee shop?”
“The news that we got married has been flying around.” She put a piece of gum in her mouth. “Maybe she was hoping we’d be there.”
It hadn’t felt as if she’d come to gawk at him. He’d gotten the impression that she was honestly trying to make friends, maybe even make amends, but who was he to say? He’d just met her. “Tell the truth. You were tempted to feel sorry for her because she looked so depressed when you waffled on dinner.”
“No, I wasn’t. She did a lot of other things I haven’t told you about. As far as I’m concerned, if people don’t want to have dinner with her it’s because she deserves it,” Gail said, but he could tell she was torn.
They had to stop at the next red light, too. Simon felt annoyed by the pace of life here—until he realized there was no point in hurrying. For once the world wasn’t going to fall apart if he didn’t make it to a certain place by a certain time. And he had nothing to fear about being out in the open. There were no paparazzi, no cameras, no Bella and no reporters with uncomfortable questions. He wasn’t even afraid of being recognized, because being recognized here didn’t turn into an embarrassing worship session. These people just sort of stared and murmured, then glanced at their toes if he caught them gawking.
The light turned green, so he gave the car some gas. “Okay, now tell me about Matt.”
She let her head fall against the seat. “We’re back to him?”
“Is there someone else you want to talk about first?”
“Not if it won’t distract you.”
The Jetta he’d been following turned, and he came up on a Prius that was barely creeping along, looking for a parking place—obviously more tourists out to visit the shops on Sutter Street. “He’s that big a deal to you?” Simon said. If so, why hadn’t she ever mentioned him? He would’ve expected that information to come out before they got married.
“He’s a professional football player. That makes him a big deal to everyone, at least around here.”
She’d taken the personal element out of his question, so he put it back in. “I want to know what he means to you.”
“Nothing. We went out once last summer. That’s it.”
Although she tried to shrug it off, Simon didn’t believe he’d misunderstood what he’d sensed at the coffee shop. “Then why does everyone seem so interested in your reaction to him?”
“I couldn’t tell you.”
The Prius found a car with some people who looked like they might be loading up, but they were only storing their packages. “You’re a terrible liar,” Simon said. “Has anyone ever told you that?”
“I’m not lying...exactly.”
“Then what are you hiding? Did you sleep with him?”
Her hesitation told him he’d hit somewhere not far from the truth.
“You don’t have to conceal any indiscretions from me,” he reminded her. “I’m pretty much the poster boy for sin, remember?”
“I didn’t sleep with him.”
“But...”
“We went out once and came close.”
“Aha! Here we go. So he’s your local love interest and everyone knows it.”
“No one knows anything, because nothing really happened. It was one date. So he’s not a...love interest, per se.”
At last the Prius found a spot. “You’re not head over heels,” Simon said.
“No.”
They reached the turnoff to her father’s. “Tell me where we’re going.”
“Home, to shower and get ready for the day. I want to check our media hits and see what Josh has arranged with People on our wedding pics. Then we’ll contact Kathy and see when she has time to show us whatever rentals are available.”
Still intrigued by her self-conscious reaction to his questions about Matt, he returned to the same subject. “Has he called you since the big night? Was he expecting to see you again?”
“What does it matter?”
“Maybe I want to be sure you’ll keep your end of our marriage contract, now that you’re the one facing temptation.”
She folded her arms, which made her look even more prim than usual. “Give me a break. You have nothing to worry about. It’s always been a very one-sided crush. I mean...not crush. Brief infatuation.”
“It’s is present tense,” he pointed out. “And always isn’t brief.”
Her face turned red. “Can we drop it, please?”
She was getting flustered....
He pulled into the driveway, to the far left, just in case her father or brother returned. Their vehicles were gone—thank God—which meant he was going to get a reprieve from the we-hate-Simon vibes that had bombarded him yesterday. “I just want to be sure I’m not holding you back.”
“You’re not.”
After putting the transmission in Park, he cut the engine. “You’ve got feelings for Matt. I can tell.”
“No.”
“What do you see in him?”
She opened her door. “Callie already told you—he’s a nice guy.”
He came around to meet her. “And I’m not. She made the distinction very clear. Which brings me back to Callie—what do you see in her?”
“Don’t hold the way she acted at the coffee shop against her. She’ll warm up to you. She’s just being protective.”
“She’s being judgmental. Hasn’t she ever done anything wrong?”
“Most people haven’t crashed and burned quite as publicly as you have. You have that going against you.”
“Such is the price I pay for being rich and famous.” It was a glib response, designed to cover how it felt to have his every mistake and shortcoming advertised to the public. If not for that added dimension, maybe he wouldn’t have become so determined to prove he’d do exactly as he pleased, regardless of the world’s shock and recrimination. To a certain extent, the worst of his behavior was simply his way of giving the world—and everyone who judged him—the finger.
“Are you sorry you didn’t have sex with Matt while you had the chance?”
Clearly, she wanted to be done with this conversation, so it took him off guard when she suddenly stopped and whirled around. “Yes,” she said in exasperation. “I am. Especially now that I’m getting paid not to have sex for the next two years.”
He put a hand to his chest as if she’d just wounded him. “Who’s paying you not to have sex?”
“Our marriage will fall apart the second we cross that line, and you know it.”
The stubborn glint in her eyes offered an irresistible challenge. Gail was so...normal. That was one of the things he liked most about her. She kept problems in perspective and demanded he do the same. Since she’d taken charge, his life had begun to make sense again.
But she was also a bit starchy, and that made her fun to bait. “I’m willing to compromise in that area,” he said. “I’ll give you a night off from our deal if you’ll give me one.” He adopted a sultry tone. “Think about it...all that pent-up desire could be unleashed on your old crush.”
Oddly enough, he didn’t want her to accept, but he was curious whether or not she’d be tempted by the offer. That alone would tell him how important this Matt the Football Player was.
She didn’t take the bait. Grabbing his shirtfront, she tried to yank him toward her. When she couldn’t budge him, and he started chuckling at her efforts, she stood on her tiptoes so she could come nose to nose with him instead. “Don’t mistake the tranquil setting here in Whiskey Creek for privacy or anonymity. Everyone’s watching. You do one thing wrong in this town and you can say goodbye to making yourself remotely respectable.” She let go and brushed the wrinkles out of his shirt. “And I’d rather you didn’t make a fool of me in front of the home crowd, if you get my meaning.”
He lowered his gaze to her lips. She was so close he could smell the mint of her chewing gum. If he kissed her, he’d probably taste it, too. “I guess that leaves us with only one alternative.”
“And that is?”
Tilting her chin up, he brought his mouth within a hairbreadth of hers. “You can’t guess?”
“Sure I can.” Shoving his good hand up against his crotch, she said, “Have fun,” and walked away.
Apparently she’d had enough of his teasing. But something about her reaction to her old flame triggered an unpleasant response in him.
It couldn’t be jealousy, he told himself. It had to be wounded pride. He wasn’t used to being upstaged.
Unwilling to let her have the last word, he called after her, “You’re supposed to want me. I’m the movie star!” as if he was the egotistical ass so many of the tabloids described.
“Some women prefer professional athletes to self-absorbed movie stars,” she retorted, and when she reached the stoop, she tossed a taunting smile over her shoulder. “You should see how big Matt is.”
Simon felt his eyebrows jerk together. “You’re talking about height, aren’t you?”
No answer. She was trying to unlock the door.
He strode over to the porch. “You can’t compare what you haven’t seen. To be fair we should go into the bedroom and check it out. I’m not afraid of a little competition.”
“I want a divorce,” she grumbled as she finally got the door open.
Trying not to laugh, he swatted her bottom. “I seem to have that effect on women.”
* * *
Bringing a movie star home to Whiskey Creek wasn’t turning out like Gail had imagined. Her father and brother had reacted as defensively as she’d thought they would but, except for Callie, her friends had not. Probably because she and Simon were already married. Considering that, there wasn’t much anyone could do to warn her away.
Still, she’d anticipated a bit more...concern.
At breakfast, her old school chums had looked as if they couldn’t believe her situation had changed so drastically, but she’d talked about the people on her client roster enough in the past that they associated her with a lot of big names. They were more surprised to have Simon O’Neal sitting at coffee with them. She’d never brought anyone home before, let alone an actor of his stature, and they were understandably flustered.
But, interestingly enough, they didn’t seem to blame her for marrying him. The guys took it for granted that Simon would be able to have anyone he wanted, even her, regardless of what he’d done. And her girlfriends harbored no illusions that they would’ve refused him had he shown interest in any of them. So there’d been no frowns, no head shaking, no “what the hell were you thinking?” when they got together this morning. Everyone had been too busy trying to acclimate to having Simon around. Gail had almost laughed out loud as all but Callie succumbed easily to his potent charm.
That grin of his was like a slow-acting poison, she decided. It wasn’t lethal but it could certainly incapacitate a woman. It entered at the eyes and jammed up certain frequencies of the brain, making the victim susceptible to almost any suggestion Simon made. That had to be the reason she’d been stupid enough to flash him this morning, even though she didn’t want to be compared to his many other women, didn’t want to become his temporary antidote to grief, didn’t want to be just another meaningless lay. She already knew her self-esteem couldn’t take it.
He’d win Callie over eventually, too. Callie was only holding out because she’d cautioned Gail not to get involved with him, and had been ignored. Callie couldn’t swoon at his feet the second he walked into town or she’d look ridiculous.
“Hey, what’s taking so long?” Simon called up.
Apparently he was off the phone with Ian, who’d been expounding on the difficulties of getting Simon out of his next movie. She could hear the TV but Simon’s conversation seemed to have ended several minutes ago, probably around the time she’d finished reading all the blogs and articles posted about them on the web.
“Just handling a few details,” she called back.
“How are we looking? Am I coming off as innocent? Reformed?”
“America hasn’t gotten that far yet. Everyone’s in shock.”
“I still have the ability to shock people?”
She couldn’t help laughing, despite the fact that she was wounded by so many of the comments she’d read. Being realistic about her own limitations was one thing. Reading so many snarky reasons he should’ve chosen someone better was another.
“They’re calling me Plain Jane,” she said.
“They don’t know you,” he responded.
Nice try. “That comment doesn’t refer to my personality.”
When she heard his tread on the stairs, she was about to turn off her computer. It’d been hard enough to read these remarks when she was alone. But he’d only demand she turn it on and show him some of the press. He had a right to be interested.
“Who’s been writing about us?” he asked as he entered the room.
“‘Perez Hilton,’ ‘Hot Hollywood Gossip,’ all the usual celeb sites.”
“‘Hollywood Hunk Marries Plain Jane,’” he read over her shoulder. “The hunk part is pretty accurate.”
She knew he was trying to soften the blow by making it into a joke, but that didn’t help. She said nothing, just clicked on the other sites she’d seen so he could continue to skim through the headings.
“‘Box Office Hit Simon O’Neal Ties the Knot... What’s Simon O Thinking?... Simon O’Neal’s Latest Debacle... The Real Cinderella... Big Hit PR Scores and So Does Its Owner, but for How Long?’”
“Looks like they’re buying it,” he said.
“Of course they’re buying it. I may be plain but I’m good at what I do.” She could at least take pride in that.
“Come on.” He rested his hands on her shoulders and kneaded the tense muscles there. “I’ll bet you anything that was written by a woman.”
“John McWhorter would be an odd name for a woman.”
“So a gay guy. A jealous gay guy. It’s possible. I’ve gotten love letters from guys before.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She really felt that way. She’d known what she’d be up against coming in to this. Known that everything would be criticized, especially her.
And yet...it wasn’t pleasant to know that the world found her lacking as Simon’s wife. This morning, when she’d flashed Simon, the way he’d looked at her had made her feel drop-dead gorgeous. No other man had ever made her feel so intoxicated with desire.
But Simon was out to get laid, and she’d made herself his only quarry. He was probably using all his acting skill in the hopes of achieving sexual gratification. Considering how beautiful Bella was, he couldn’t have been as impressed as he seemed.
“That’s what you’ve been doing up here this whole time?” he asked. “Reading all this negative crap about yourself?”
“I have to know what’s being said or I won’t know what we need to do to enhance or combat it.”
He didn’t seem pleased. “Why do people have to have an opinion on everything I do? Can’t they just enjoy my movies and leave it at that? Close up and let’s go.”
“I haven’t been crying over it, if that’s what you think.” She stopped him when he tried to shut down her browser. “I’ve been answering email.”
That was true. She’d had to check on Big Hit, see what was going on with the new pitches and assure herself that Josh and Serge were covering for her in her absence. Josh had written, telling her not to read any of the blogs, that he’d keep track of their buzz, which should’ve warned her, but she’d had to look.
“Any word from People?” Simon asked.
“We have a two-million-dollar offer.”
“Hold out for three.”
“That’s what I told Josh.”
He kept rubbing her shoulders, but she didn’t like that he was doing it because he felt sorry for her. “What about Kathy Carmichael? Have you reached her?”
“Not yet. I left her a message.”
“What’s happening at your office?”
“We’re being deluged with calls. A lot are from media interested in getting whatever scoop they can on us, but there are others who are potential clients. Josh thinks we should hire two more publicists.”
“Do you agree?”
She was surprised he’d ask. What did he care about her PR business? “We have to be able to grow quickly enough to accommodate our sudden popularity. And I don’t want the quality to suffer. That would ruin my brand. So, yeah, I told him to do it. Maybe it’s the news of our marriage that’s bringing business to Big Hit, but only hard work will keep that business, especially after you and I split up.”
“Are you okay with missing all the fun?”
Gail hated feeling so removed from what she’d created. She was too used to standing at the helm. But she had enough challenges right here, she reminded herself. One of those challenges was not moaning at the pleasure his fingers were giving her with his massage. Another was making sure her soft spot for him didn’t get any larger. “I’m on assignment.”
“And you’ll see it through.”
“Of course.”
The rubbing stopped for a moment as he saluted her. “That’s your brand, too.”
“That’s my personality.”
He stared at her for several seconds.
“What?” she asked, growing self-conscious.
“You’re right. It is your personality. You’re responsible, dependable.”
Although that sounded like it was meant as a compliment, being responsible and dependable wasn’t flattering enough to counteract the negative comments she’d just read. It wasn’t like being told she was gorgeous or sexy or charismatic, like he was. But she figured the world could use a few more dependable people. Lord knew she dealt with enough who weren’t. “Be careful. I might get a big head—like yours,” she said with a laugh.
He started to rub again. “I like responsible and dependable.”
She watched him in the mirror of her dresser. “Sure you do. Being responsible and dependable is almost as good as being conscientious and trustworthy.”
“You’re not flattered.”
“No.”
His hands stilled. “Okay. Would you believe me if I said you have the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen?”
He was getting a lot closer to the things a woman really wanted to hear—even someone as practical, responsible and conscientious as her. But he couldn’t be serious. She was barely a C cup. “No.”
“Now you know why I didn’t bother.”
She told herself to let it go at that, but couldn’t. “Is it true?” she asked warily.
A sexy smile lifted one corner of his mouth as he bent to whisper in her ear, “I’d be happy to convince you of my sincerity if you’ll give me the chance,” he said and his hands came around to cup her breasts through her clothes.
The heat of his palms made her nipples tighten. She told herself to get up and step away, but she could only stare at the sight of his dark fingers against her turquoise sweater. “Something must be wrong with me....”
His thumbs moved back and forth, and darts of pleasure raced through her. “No, there’s not,” he said, his lips against her neck.
She could hardly breathe. She wanted to let those well-sculpted hands delve beneath her top and really touch her. But she was determined to be smart about Simon. “I mean, there must be something wrong with you if you think I’m going to fall for that,” she said, and knocked his hands away.
She’d thought he’d straighten and laugh it off as if touching her hadn’t meant anything to him, anyway. As if it had been some sort of test to see what she’d do. But he didn’t. When their eyes met in the mirror, she could plainly read his disappointment.
God, no wonder he could get any female on the planet, she told herself. It wasn’t just his celebrity and appearance. There was an emotional honesty about him she found oddly courageous. Maybe he didn’t always feel the way she might like him to feel, but he didn’t hide the truth.
“What would it hurt?” he murmured. “You’re my wife.”
He wanted the physical intimacy a regular wife would give him. But he wouldn’t be happy if she wanted the emotional intimacy a regular wife would expect in return. “I know you’re not used to going without, that it’s been a few weeks—”
“Ah, shit. Don’t patronize me,” he said, and walked out.
Gail sat there for several more minutes. She was waiting for the tingling in her breasts to subside. But every time she thought of Simon touching her with that intense look in his eyes, the sensation came back.
Finally, she told herself to quit being an idiot and went downstairs.
“Should we drive around and see if we can find any for-rent signs?” she asked.
He was sitting on the couch, watching TV, and didn’t even bother to look up. “I’ve decided a for-sale sign would work just as well.”
“You want to buy a house?”
“I’m just saying I’ll take what I can get.”
Of course. He wouldn’t want to stay with her father and brother any longer than necessary, and she couldn’t blame him.
“You’re mad at me.”
“Frustrated,” he said.
“Simon—”
“But I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fine. Let’s just...” She swallowed hard, feeling at a loss because she was frustrated, too, even torn. “Pretend nothing happened,” she finished. “Come on.”
Picking up the remote, Simon snapped off the TV and followed her through the kitchen. They were just stepping outside when Kathy called.
“Is it true?” the Realtor squealed.
Distracted by Simon, who insisted on driving even though she thought she should probably do it this time, since she knew her way around, Gail didn’t immediately understand what Kathy meant. “Is what true?”
“That you married Simon O’Neal?”
Sometimes Gail couldn’t believe it herself. “Yes.”
“Oh, my God!” Kathy shouted. “Oh, my God! Oh, my God!”
“Kathy—”
“What’s it like to sleep with him?” she asked.
Gail froze. This was the last question she’d expected from middle-aged, happily married Kathy Carmichael. Simon was so famous, people thought they had some sort of claim on him, which gave them the impression they had the right to ask such personal questions.
Simon had obviously overheard. He glanced up to see what her response would be.
“He’s not all he’s cracked up to be.” She wasn’t sure why she said that; she just couldn’t stop herself from needling him.
Whatever Kathy said was lost on Gail, who was too focused on Simon.
“You keep saying stuff like that and you’re going to have to give me the chance to prove you wrong,” he told her.
Which was exactly what she wanted him to do. She was just afraid of what might come after. “Kidding!” she told Kathy. “He’s amazing, of course. Just looking at him makes me drool.” She stuck her tongue out so he wouldn’t take that seriously.
“The truth at last,” he murmured sarcastically.
“Lord, you and me both, honey,” Kathy was saying. “I’ve seen Shiver at least half a dozen times. The way he makes love to Tomica Kansas in that movie is beyond anything I’ve ever seen. All I have to do is hear the musical score and...” Her voice softened. “Oh, my.”
Gail didn’t want to think of that movie but the images danced through her brain, anyway. “Don’t hold your husband accountable if he can’t duplicate that scene,” she said. “I’m sure the director had a lot to do with it. And the music. And the magic of make-believe. Sex is never messy on screen.”
Simon settled behind the wheel of her car. “Keep talking. You might actually believe it one day.”
She couldn’t respond to him. Kathy was murmuring, “You’re one lucky girl, darlin’. That’s all I’m saying.”
Eager to change the subject before she had to hear any more, Gail cleared her throat. “Thanks. Do you know of any places we can rent for three months, Kathy?”
“Only one that’s good enough for Simon.”
Gail covered the phone. “Did you hear that?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Sounds hopeful.”
“I’d better not run into this very often,” she told him.
He raised a questioning eyebrow.
“The way people gush over you is so ridiculous it makes me sick.”
“Is that why you’re looking at me as if you’d like to tear my clothes off?”
She gaped at him. How could he see through her so easily? “You’re so conceited!”
“What did you say?” Kathy asked while he laughed.
She removed her hand from the phone. “Sorry, I was talking to Simon. I told him you have just the place.”
“I do,” she said. “It’s the old Doman mansion. You know it, don’t you?”
“Of course. But...that’s up for rent?”
“For sale. Why would someone like Simon pay rent, especially in your hometown, where you’ll be coming again and again? This is pocket change for him.”
That diamond guy had felt he should be able to tell Simon how to spend his money, too. “How much pocket change?”
“Two-point-five million. It’s an entire compound, with ten acres and stables and everything.”
“We’ll take it.” Simon was still listening in, but Gail had no interest in buying the old Doman place.
“I’m afraid that won’t work,” she told Kathy. “It’s far more than we’re willing to take on. Simon wants to get a piece of land and build us a house, but for now we just need something small and cozy, something temporary and a lot less work.”
“Oh.” Kathy seemed disappointed.
“If she doesn’t have anything small and cozy, we’re taking the Doman place,” Simon informed Gail.
Gail gestured for him to be quiet.
“Well, in that case—” Kathy hesitated. “Meet me at the office. I can show you a couple of possibilities, but...there’s not much on the market right now.”
“I understand. We’re on our way.” With a triumphant smile, Gail hit the end button.
“What’s wrong with the Doman place?” Simon asked, scowling. “Kathy seemed to think it would be perfect for me.”
Gail fastened her seat belt. “You trust her more than you do me?”
“Hell, yeah,” he said. “At least she recognizes a good love scene when she sees one.”
“That love scene was...generic,” she responded, but it was a lie, and they both knew it. That love scene was one of the best to ever hit the screen. Every time Gail climbed into bed with Simon she had to face the memory of his perfect mouth moving down Tomica Kansas’s flat stomach....
His gaze lowered to her breasts. “That’s not what your body is telling me.”
She resisted the urge to fold her arms over the evidence of her arousal. “I’m not Tomica Kansas.” She had to keep the distinction between her, at Plain Jane status, and the femme fatales who starred in his movies clear in her mind.
“You could’ve been fifteen minutes ago,” he said, but he was no longer looking at her. He was checking the road as he backed out of the drive.