“Damn it,” she muttered as she went back into her foyer to pick up the contest papers that were strewn all over her hardwood floors and began to compose her newest lie in her head.

Chapter Thirteen

“Baby,” Candace said as she lay in the crook of Charlie’s arm, “I have a family thing this Saturday.”

“Oh good. I’ve been dying to meet your family.”

Inwardly she cursed herself for saying the wrong thing. “Actually,” she said, “it’s a private matter. I promise to tell you everything once things are ironed out, but for now, the lawyers have insisted we keep it within the family.”

Charlie kissed the top of her head. “Sounds serious. Are you sure you don’t want me to come along for moral support?”

“Definitely not!” she exclaimed. Realizing she had been far more fervent with her protests than was necessary, she stroked her hands through the golden hair that dusted his muscular chest. Trying to keep her tone light she said, “Hey, you’ll finally get a day without me. I’ll bet you’ve been dying to hang out with the guys to drink beer and eat pizza and watch sports, huh?”

Charlie chuckled. “Honestly? No. I haven’t been the least bit interested in hanging out with the guys.”

“Really?” she asked in an uncertain voice.

“Are you kidding?” he replied. “Only a madman would choose beer and pizza over you.”

She tilted her head up and kissed him softly on the lips. “I love you, Charlie Gibson.”

* * *

Charlie had planned on asking Candace to the Erotic Writing Contest ceremony, but he kept forgetting. By the time he learned she already had unbreakable plans, he figured there was no point in mentioning it at all.

Backstage, in his dressing room, Charlie clipped on his bowtie and evened up the sleeves of his tux jacket. Looking at himself in the mirror he saw a man in love looking back at him. His eyes were clear and bright, a smile was permanently plastered on his face.

He was planning on asking her to marry him. In fact, he had dropped by Tiffany’s that very afternoon. He couldn’t wait to slip the solitaire on her finger, knowing she’d be in his bed, in his heart, for all eternity.

Steve Holt stuck his head in the door. “Hey Charlie, I thought you might want to check out the winning manuscript before you present the award to the winner.” Steve put the thick bundle of pages on the table nearest the door. “It’s pretty f**kin’ hot. I can’t wait to get a look at the woman who wrote it when she walks up on stage tonight.”

Charlie cocked his head to the side. “You don’t recognize the writer’s name?”

“I think it’s a pseudonym. Nobody would name their daughter Candy Lane.”

Candy? Charlie felt a squeezing sensation in his chest, but brushed his sense of foreboding aside. Of course Candace hadn’t turned herself into Candy Lane.

Then again, he had never asked her if she wrote under a pseudonym.

She would have told him if she entered this contest, he knew she would have. They told each other everything—all of their dreams, fears, hopes.

He shook his head to clear the insanity from it and picked up the manuscript. “Thanks Steve. I’ll take a quick look at it. See you out there.”

“I’ll save you some champagne,” Steve said and then loped off down the hall.

Charlie shut the door behind Steve, sat down on the leather sofa in the small dressing room and read, “Jolene was a good girl...”

* * *

Candace walked into the beautifully decorated ballroom of the Fairmont in Union Square and slid her hands over her red silk dress, smoothing out invisible wrinkles. She was incredibly nervous about accepting the award for her story, Hell’s Angel. Yet again, she wished she had told Charlie about it, so he could lend her the moral support she so desperately needed.

A stunning blond greeted her at the doorway. “And you are?”

“Candace Whitman,” Candace replied with a smile.

“Ooo, how exciting!” the woman exclaimed as she spontaneously gave Candace a hug. “Charlie Gibson was your mentor this year, wasn’t he?”

Candace nodded. “That’s right.”

The woman leaned in closer and said, “Jessie was spitting nails for weeks after losing out on the chance to work with him. I hear you nabbed him the minute he walked into the conference hall.”

Grinning, Candace said, “Pretty much,” liking the woman immensely and feeling a great deal more at ease.

“I’m Sherryl Ann,” the woman said with a shake of her perfect blond ringlets. “Charlie was my mentor last year and I learned so much from him. I’ll bet you did too.”

The smile froze on Candace’s face. “You worked with Charlie last year?” she asked, striving for an even tone.

Sherryl Ann winked. “He’s quite a hunk, isn’t he?”

Candace felt all of the color rush out of her face just as a loud buzzing started in her ears. “He is,” she said quickly. “Could you point me to the ladies room?”

“Sure thing, honey. It’s just down the hall to the left. You don’t look so good all of a sudden,” the woman added, clearly concerned.

“Probably just something I ate,” Candace lied before spinning around and practically running down the hall.

“I can’t believe I’m such an idiot,” she whispered. “Of course I wasn’t the only female apprentice he’s ever had.” She sniffled and rolled some toilet paper into her fist, dashing it angrily at her face.

Painful memories crashed down around her. Walking in on her first boyfriend while he screwed the head cheerleader. Bravely letting her next boyfriend have sex with her, only to have him tell her she was a cold fish. Swallowing her pride as she found signs of her latest boyfriend’s affair, and realizing it was with the woman she thought was her best friend.

And now Charlie. He had probably slept with every woman in the room on a “mentor/apprentice” basis.

She heaved in a shaky breath. “I’ll show him,” she declared. “I’m going to accept this award, shove it in his face, and move on with my life. Without him.”

She unlatched the bathroom door and made her way to the mirror. Quickly fixing her makeup, she strode into the banquet hall and tried to ignore the voice in her heart that said she could never live without Charlie by her side.