CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Candace scooped the last of the mint ice cream into a bowl. “Best breakfast ever. I still can’t believe you kissed him.”
Mandy’s face burned anew. She’d spent all night agonizing over the kiss. Why her? Stupidly she’d searched for photos of Daniel with his old flames and analyzed the kisses. And the women. The girl at the store last night was right—a ponytailed-vintage-clothes-wearing high school teacher was slumming it. Mandy would never be as thin or as fashionable as any of those women. “I should have never bought the ice cream. Your advice has been less than helpful.” I want to know I am not a number.
“I thought my idea was quite original. Starting a ‘Have you kissed DC?’ website is brilliant. Think of the ad revenue.”
“No way am I becoming another fangirl. I already feel like a number. Why would I want to know which one?” Mandy eyed her phone. She would not check for a text. The phone vibrated, causing her to jump. She reached for it to the sound of Candace’s laughter.
“Careful, or you’ll choke on that ice cream.” Mandy warned, opening her phone.
Morning. Sleep well?
Sleep? Not exactly. Well enough. How was your drive? No way did she want to know how he’d slept.
Long. May I call?
Sure.
Mandy took her phone with the intention of hiding in her room. Slowed by her crutches, she was closer to the library when the phone rang, she sunk into one of the chairs.
“I wanted to let you know how sorry I am.”
“Sorry?” Candace’s speculations still on her mind, Mandy knew he would end up apologizing for the kiss. She wasn’t the type of girl he frequently dated.
“For taking you out in public. I shouldn’t have asked—”
As she’d expected, she wasn’t thin enough, pretty enough, or rich enough. Hurt coursed through her veins. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”
“That isn’t what I—”
Mandy used the calm voice she reserved for her third-hour students, all the doubts of her sleepless night tumbled out. “I think you’ve made it clear. Congratulations on adding another name to your list of conquests. Did you need the ‘girl next door’ to complete your bingo card? In New York, with any luck you can add an A-lister and an heiress.”
“Please, listen. That’s not—”
Tears filled her eyes, blurring the screen as she pressed End.
The phone rang again.
Mandy hit Ignore and tossed it into the other chair. The stairway to the loft beckoned her. Boot or no boot, it was a good place to hide.
No, Daniel didn’t want to leave a message on voicemail. He checked the time. The car service would be here any minute. He growled in frustration.
Amanda—that came out wrong. Please call me back.
He dialed Bonnie.
“This better be good to bother my Sunday, and if this is about your social life, I am out.”
“Just making sure you have what you need before I leave for two weeks.”
“Liar. You were calling to get me to send flowers to that poor girl. She is no Vandemark, and those vipers will tear her apart. Did you know her photo is plastered all over one of those fan sites, and she is dubbed the newest woman to hate? No, you clean this one up yourself. She deserves more than flowers from a secretary. And don’t forget your toothbrush.”
The line went dead. For a moment he considered calling Colin, but Colin would probably be even less inclined to help.
Amanda’s phone went to voicemail again. He tried a longer text. I wanted to be out with you. I was talking about the publicity because I took you to a place where people took your photo. I feel like I threw you to the sharks. Please call. Things might get nasty. My friend Colin is a whiz with computers, and he can do some things to help electronically hide you. I didn’t mean for this to happen.
Daniel checked his shaving bag for a toothbrush, even though he hadn’t forgotten one in years.
On his way to the airport, he tried Mandy’s number again only to be dumped into voicemail. “Mandy, I hope to see you when I get back so we can talk. I was only trying to apologize for dragging you into my world. You deserve some privacy, not a mess that can only get worse. Please call me and please, please, please never trust a tabloid.”
Inadequate. He clicked End. Ordering flowers online wasn’t going to be much better, but at least it was something. He scrolled through the site, discarding several arrangements, before he came to a light-pink, dark-pink, and lavender rose bouquet, the colors reminding him of the impressionist painting on one of the kitchen cabinets. Roses—not red but colors that spoke of new love and sweetness. One hundred and twenty blooms might be excessive. He pondered for a moment before adding the bouquet to the cart. An option to add a stuffed animal popped up. He didn’t think Mandy was a collector, but then a stuffed mallard caught his eye. The message was problematic because in the end the order would go through a local florist and someone was bound to talk. After several tries, he was happy with it.
Sunday delivery was unavailable in such a small town, he selected an option for “as soon as possible” and noted the “Delivery may take up to 72 hours” disclaimer. Not ideal, but he was running out of ideas.
After navigating airport security, he waited in a private lounge. His photo flashed on one of the television screens, followed by one of him talking to Mandy over salad at the restaurant. He couldn’t hear the show host, but the banner headline “DC and the Girl Next Door” was loud and clear.
He pulled out his phone. No answer.
Please, Mandy. I need to know you are safe. Some groupies are crazy.
Five minutes later, still no return text. He did a search on his name. The top five stories featured amateur photos of last night’s date. No! Amanda doesn’t deserve this.
He dialed Colin. “I need your help.”
Raindrops danced over the skylight, and thunder rolled in the distance. Mandy pulled the fleece blanket tight around her shoulders. The gray clouds matched her mood, only she had no more tears to shed. She needed to go down and work on the images for the mansion. The first one had been completed days ago. The traditional home of the Crawford family was repainted, shutters open, windows gleaming. She added a play gym in the backyard, like Danny had always wished. For a moment she dreamed she had been a part of that scene, supervising the meals, welcoming guests, playing with several dark-haired children in the nursery. She reminded herself that half the women in the free world had the same dream and that hers was over. She would not be in public, or private, with him again.
She tossed a pillow against the wall like some tantrum-tossing toddler. Sorry he took her out in public? Enough. She needed to focus on the mansion, not its owner. If she was going to have the project done in less than three weeks, she had better start on one of the other ideas. A long-term mental-health facility had certain charm. Mandy scooted to the stairway, chagrined that the best way to get down with her boot on was to slide down.
Her phone chimed with a text as she walked through the library. Wondering if she had been too hasty with Daniel earlier, Mandy retrieved it from the chair. No. Way. It wasn’t possible to have 1,438 text messages, was it? No way would any guy text that much.
The icons on the main screen indicated she had even more messages in her social media accounts.
A new message popped up.
He is mine, you little brat.
And another You go, girl! One for the little people!
And another, this time a photo from the restaurant with her head distorted like Munch’s The Scream.
Another message and yet another—the vilest of all. Mandy dropped the phone. “Candace!”
A muffled “Studio!” was her answer. Mandy abandoned her crutches and followed the echo back to the glass-walled room, arms wrapped around her middle. She only took two steps into the studio before Candace wrapped her arms around her. “What is it?”
“My phone.” Mandy shuddered. “Over a thousand messages. Calling me names.”
Candace’s brow knit. “Show me.”
Mandy shuffled back to the library.
Candace bent and retrieved the phone. “No way!” Candace pulled out her phone and sunk into one of the chairs. She opened app after app. “Mandy, I think you are going to want to get a new phone number and close your social media accounts. Not only are there photos of your date yesterday, but someone posted your cell number. Have you checked your email?” Candace handed back the phone.
Mandy hit the email icon. Only three messages sat in her inboxes. “Both my work and personal emails seem to be the typical junk.”
Candace stood and handed Mandy her crutches. “Shut your phone down, then, and let’s see what we can do about your social media accounts.”
Airplane mode was a beautiful thing, but coming out of it stunk. Daniel watched his voicemail, text, and email boxes fill up. Had Mandy called?
Colin, Mr. Morgan, Summerset, and Bonnie had all left multiple messages.
Bonnie never left messages on Sunday, and she avoided texting. He read Bonnie’s text first. Give me her contact information before you mess things up any more! To the point, as usual. Daniel would call her when he got to the hotel.
He skipped Summerset’s and Morgan’s texts. He would deal with them later. Avoiding Summerset until the trial would be best, though impossible. The crazy rumors she’d started showed how disconnected she had become from reality. The only reason he kept any dialogue with her was on the advice of his legal team.
Colin’s text caused Daniel to stop abruptly on the Jetway, the man behind him swearing as a result. Stronger words ran through Daniel’s mind as he reread the text.
She has death threats. Call me!
It was tempting to hit speed dial then, but anyone would be able to hear his conversation in the middle of JFK. The car-service vehicle was not the best place for a conversation either.
He squelched the urge to try to hurry the driver through the Sunday-afternoon traffic. The messages on his voicemail did little to calm his nerves. Bonnie’s was almost word for word her text, and Summerset’s voice was more needy than sultry, but there was no way he was going to eat dinner with her, tonight or any other night. He may be a witness for the prosecution in the legal case, but in her civil case, he was testifying for the defense. Once she realized this, she was going to toss one of her patented billion-dollar-heiress fits. It was best he avoid her altogether.
Colin texted again: Are you at the hotel yet?
Two blocks.
I expect to be your first call, before Bonnie.
Interesting. They must have been conversing.
If he hadn’t been preoccupied with his phone when he got out of the car, the next few minutes would have been very different. But he did not hear the high-pitched squeal of “Da-a-rli-i-i-ing!” until the last syllable was far too close to his ear. Daniel looked up in time to be simultaneously blinded by a camera flash and Summerset’s lips nearly upon his. A quick move offered only his cheek for the landing. He set her back from him as swiftly as he could.
“Miss Vandemark, I didn’t expect you here.”
She sidled up to him, forcing him to take a step back. “Didn’t you get all my messages?”
The calculated batting of her eyelids curdled his stomach. What had he ever seen in her? He took a sidestep and moved to the door of the hotel. The paparazzi already had too much fodder. Depending on the angle, a photo could tell a thousand lies. He passed the doorman. Behind him, Summerset gave a little squeak. Several curious onlookers suddenly remembered they had something else to do as he approached the desk. Maybe he should consider getting an apartment in Manhattan. Two weeks of this might kill him.