Hollywood Scandal (10 page)

She stepped forward to shake his hand.

The detective was of medium height, medium build, and with a face that could only be called average. There was not one thing about him physically that stood out. Not his hair, his clothes, or even his watch.

“I have an irritating problem by the name of Jeff MacKay,” Calla said.

Sparky looked like he’d eaten something distasteful. “You want a restraining order against one of the most visible men in the world?”

She glanced at Alex, who nodded. “He’s made threats. You should have seen him react when I refused to do what he wanted. So ugly.” She shuddered. The man underneath the pretty face was a cold, merciless creature. “If Alex hadn’t been there, I truly believe he would have hurt me.”

Sparky wrote in a notebook for a minute, then closed it and gave her his full attention. “If you do this, it will be a public document. The press watch for stuff like that. They’re going to know thirty minutes after the order is issued.”

“Is that a problem?”

“The term
media frenzy
might apply,” Alex drawled.

“What else can I do?” Calla asked. “He’s threatening me, you, and God knows what he’s said to Alicia and her son.”

“We should find out,” Alex said. “Take her statement. If he’s done the same thing to her as he’s trying to do to you, she may want to obtain a restraining order against him as well.”

“The press will go crazy,” Sparky said.

Alex nodded. “But it will keep MacKay from bugging her.”

“Maybe,” Sparky said, leaning back in his chair and staring at Alex. “Stars don’t always do what you expect.”

A few minutes later, they finished the paperwork and left the police station.

Once in the car, Alex said, “I didn’t want to mention this in front of Sparky, but if we’re going to have a battle between stars, I have one that will win hands down.”

“Who are you talking about? What do you mean?” Calla asked. It was a ridiculous waste of time when the last thing she wanted was more conflict.

“I mean, no one can rip someone a new one and still come off like a good guy like my grandmother.”

“She’s not involved in this.” She stopped and stared at Alex. “Unless you involved her.”

“I didn’t do anything. She’s been following the story in the papers.”

“The story in the papers is
fiction
.”

“She’s well aware of that,” Alex said with a chuckle. “She’d like to rewrite the story to suit herself.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t think you want to know.”

Calla smacked Alex’s shoulder. “Yes, I do.”

“My grandmother is a romantic and she doesn’t like Jeff MacKay. I think it would drive him crazy if we made our relationship public at an event, no, make that a party.”

“That’s taking things a bit far, don’t you think?” Calla asked. And yet, part of her whispered that things hadn’t gone nearly far enough.

“Think about how frustrated it would make MacKay,” Alex said with the glee of a man who needed to get out more often. “He’ll be claiming one thing and you’ll be showing something very different.”

Calla glanced at him. “Are you for real?”

Alex gave her a sharp, decisive nod. “Yes.”

She was going deeper and deeper into a fabricated relationship with a man who never lied.

A man she liked far too much.

A man whose kiss was something she feared she was already addicted to.

A man she wanted for real. A man she shouldn’t want.

Her life was too complicated, and that was before taking her debt problems into account. Her brother would always have to be her first concern, her number one priority, putting any other man in her life in a dissatisfying second place. Then there was the scar tissue left behind when her fiancé cheated on her, left her, and cleaned out their joint bank account. His betrayal had almost broken her.

Another would finish her.

Chapter Eleven

Alex wanted to rub his hands together like a B-movie evil genius. The plan was perfect. Instead of reacting to MacKay’s choreographed actions, statements, and appearances, they would pre-empt him with their own.

The sexiest man of the year had forgotten something. Public opinion is a fleeting thing, subject to change from one moment to the next.

“I have a plan,” he said.

“Of course you do.”

He glanced at her. She was leaning back with her arms crossed over her chest. “Are you okay?”

“I’m feeling somewhat jaded at the moment. It’ll pass. I hope. What’s your plan?”

“One of my partners is going to take over your legal needs, now that we’re in a publicly known relationship. Speaking of which, I’d like you to stay at my place for a few days.”

She didn’t answer right away, just sat and brooded for a minute or two. “A few
days
?”

She looked so uncomfortable he had to stifle a growl of frustration. “Your enthusiasm is overwhelming.” He’d thought she at least liked him. Trusted him.

“I’m sorry if I don’t look excited. It’s just…I feel like I’m under attack, but I’ve done nothing to deserve this.
Nothing
.”

“You’re right, you’ve done nothing wrong. All I can say is…” He shrugged. “Shit happens.”

She glanced at him and sighed. “Shit’s been happening to me for days.” She closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the seat. “And it’s not even my shit.”

“Hmm,” Alex said glancing at her. “I think you’re tired.”

“I’m tired all right. Tired of lies, bad behavior, and men who think they can do whatever they want regardless of other people’s feelings.”

“Sounds like you need about two years’ sleep.”

She wiped her face with the sleeve of her shirt. Tears? “God, that sounds so good right now.”

Catherine had cried to manipulate him.

Calla tried to hide it from him.

He reached over and took her hand for a moment. “Remember, you’re not alone. I’m with you all the way, and I think a nice steak dinner and a glass of wine will help, too.”

“That sounds fabulous. But, I need some clothes. Could we stop somewhere, a department store, so I can buy a few things?”

“Wouldn’t you rather make a quick stop at your house?” Alex suggested.

She groaned. “I have no wish to be bombarded by reporters again.”

“I want pictures of the two of us together all over the internet tonight and in the papers tomorrow,” Alex explained. “So that when the fact you’ve obtained a restraining order against MacKay comes out, he looks like the asshole he is.”

Calla frowned. “So my entire life is now ammunition in your one-upmanship game with Jeff MacKay?”

“The press is going to be there anyway, so why not use them to our advantage?”

“Do you hear yourself?” she demanded. “When is it too much? Where’s the line between public and private or is there a line between them at all?”

“The line sometimes changes, depending on the situation.”

“No.” She pointed her finger at him. “You’re drawing the line. You have from the beginning.”

“Again, what’s the problem with that? Someone has to be in control.” If he wasn’t, someone else would be. Unacceptable.

“You think you’re in control of this mess? Really?” She shook her head.

“I’ve lived in the public on and off my whole life. I know what I’m doing.”

“You’re delusional, that’s what you are.”

“
Trust me
.”

“I thought I already was.” She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “Obviously you’ve made up your mind. Let me know when we get to my place.”

The dark circles under Calla’s eyes and the wrinkles creasing the area between her brows told him she was more worried than she wanted him to think.

That concerned him.

What concerned him more was his deep satisfaction at having her light feminine scent in his nose as she dozed only a couple of feet away.

Deep, deep satisfaction. Not something he should be feeling for a client with a trunk full of problems, a lot of them money related, and a movie star who’d turned into a stalker.

Not for a woman who had no problem lying for him to his family. So, why did he want to take her away from all the craziness and make out for a couple of…days?

Minutes later, he pulled into her driveway and put a hand on her shoulder. “We’re here.”

She blinked at him, and he closed the few inches between them for a kiss.

Until a camera flash jerked them apart. A damn photographer was right outside the car window taking pictures.

The pleasured expression on her face soured. “Thanks.”

“I didn’t plan that.”

“No? I thought you were in control of the situation.”

“What, like mind control? I wish,” he said with no little amount of frustration. “I’m not that far along in my evil plan to take over the world.”

Instead of getting angrier at him, like he expected, she blinked and laughed. “Sometimes you can be such a jerk. Then you go and make me laugh. How am I supposed to stay mad at you when you do that?”

“I’m definitely on the ‘don’t stay mad’ side of things.”

“Dork,” she said as she got out of the car.

They went inside the house and she went straight to her room. He followed at a more sedate pace and found her filling a suitcase with clothing: scrubs, socks, underwear, and a couple sets of casual clothing, jeans, and T-shirts.

Alex leaned against the door jam of her bedroom and put his hands in his pockets “Bring a suit or something businesslike in case we do another press conference.”

“Okay.” She pulled a suit out of her closet, still encased in plastic from the dry cleaners, and threw a pair of pumps into the front pocket of the suitcase. Next came some toiletries and a small cosmetic bag. “Okay, this should do for a few days.”

Alex smiled at her and led the way to the door. He went out first and locked it behind her. She’d taken two steps toward his car when the flashes caught their attention. More flashes followed.

“The press,” she said in a soft voice.

“Yep,” Alex said, taking her bag and stowing it in the trunk. “They’re more dependable than the mail carrier.”

She sighed. “Okay, you’re right. You’re the boss. What should we do?”

“Nothing. We want them to report that you’re with me, not MacKay.”

“Of course.”

“No worries, mate,” Alex said in a fair imitation of an Australian accent as he opened her door for her.

She got in and obviously expected him to close the door, but he didn’t. He leaned down and planted a kiss on her.

God, he could nibble and suck on her lush lips all day, and now that she wasn’t angry with him… But this was no time to indulge in that sort of pleasure. This kiss was partially for show.

She froze in astonishment. So he pulled away, closed the door, and went around and got into the driver’s side. “Sorry to surprise you there. I wanted those photographers to have a clear view of our relationship.” He backed them out of her driveway and drove down the street.

“I think your plan worked.”

Alex grinned. “Just imagine MacKay’s face when he sees those pictures and the report of your restraining order in the papers tomorrow.”

That got her to smile. “You are a dangerous man, Mr. Hardy.”

“I’m a lawyer in the most legally treacherous state in the union, Dr. Roberts. Dangerous is part of my job description.”

“The District of Columbia isn’t more treacherous?”

Alex snorted. “A close second.”

Tilting her head to one side, she asked, “Practicing law isn’t simply a job for you, is it? It’s your passion.”

“I guess you could say that. I never wanted to be anything else.”

“Never?” Her voice rose in pitch. “Not an astronaut or policeman or doctor?”

“Nope, only a lawyer. When I was a kid, I would play courtroom with my cousins. They liked it because they could pretend to be the victim or the bad guy or the judge. Me, I was always the defense lawyer.” He winked at her. “And I always won.”

She patted his hand. “I think that’s very sweet.”

He laughed and tangled his fingers with hers. When she didn’t pull away, he had to fight to keep from looking as happy as he felt. This was not a woman who trusted easily. A state of mind he’d been accused of as well. “What about you, did you always want to be a doctor?”

“Yes. But I wanted to be a family doctor for the longest time.”

“Did you change your mind in college?” “No, I decided on plastic and reconstructive surgery when I was sixteen.” She paused for a moment and the easy smile on her face melted away. “The house across the street burned down. Electrical fire. One of the neighbors suffered third-degree burns to his hands getting his kids out of the house. Burned skin heals slowly. It also twists and tightens as it heals, leaving scars that can sometimes restrict movement.”

She tugged her hand away and rubbed both of hers together, as if she could feel the burns on her own hands. “Over the course of several months he received numerous skin grafts that slowly transformed his hands, giving him greater range of motion and fewer scars. He once told me that he didn’t feel normal until he could walk down the street without anyone staring at his hands.” She considered hers, then dropped them in her lap.

That experience had shaped her, probably more than she realized.

Her championing her patients made much more sense now.

“That’s when I knew what I wanted to do with my life. Give people back some semblance of normalcy. Help them reconstruct more than their bodies—their lives, too.”

“Your parents must have been very proud of you.” Alex pulled into his garage.

She looked around, a frown on her face. “I thought we were staying at the hotel.”

“MacKay found us at the hotel. He’s not going to get into my house so easy.”

He led her into the house where she stopped to take off her shoes inside the kitchen. He put his briefcase on the floor next to the wall, took off his suit jacket, and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. The way she watched him made him hungry for something other than food.

She met his gaze with a blush. So, he wasn’t the only one suffering from intense attraction.

He pulled open the fridge and took out a package of steak. “You can judge for yourself.”

“Can I help?”

“Nope.”

He glanced at her with a frown. “When was the last time you took some time off, went on a vacation?”

She didn’t answer right away. “I don’t know. Years, I guess. Ever since my parents died and my brother was injured.”

“Then it’s long overdue. Would you like some wine?”

She smiled. “I think I’m in heaven.”

“My wine cabinet is on the other side of the island.”

She hopped off her chair and opened the small cabinet. “Do you have a preference?”

Alex glanced over at Calla’s butt, a perfectly curved creation he’d love to get his hands on. “Whatever you’re having.”

She chose a bottle and held it up for inspection.

A red cabernet sauvignon.

“Perfect.”

She looked relaxed and happy, a condition he was determined to see her in more often. “Would you mind pouring for both of us? There are glasses in the cupboard next to the wine cabinet.”

“Not at all.” She pulled out two glasses and poured the wine.

Alex took his and saluted her with it.

She sipped hers and closed her eyes. “Very nice.”

Calla settled on her stool and observed as he set up the grill on the stove, then added the steaks.

She watched him like he was on the menu and she was starving, and it was making him sweat. If she didn’t tone it down, he was going to offer her something quite different than steaks. If he was reading her wrong, he was going to have a problem. One he might have to take care of all by himself. God, he hoped not.

“Are you sure I can’t help?” She asked.

“Absolutely certain.” He glanced at her. “How do you feel about grilled corn on the cob?”

“I’ve never had it.”

He couldn’t keep a grin off his face. “I think you’ll enjoy this.” He reached into his refrigerator and pulled out a couple of ears of corn with husks intact. He placed them right on the grill as is.

She looked at them like they were alive. “Won’t they catch fire?”

“Not likely, they’re too moist. Grilling them in the husk is the best way to cook them in my humble opinion.”

She sat and watched him for a few minutes, the silence between them as comfortable as talking.

The doorbell rang.

Alex turned down the heat on the stove then went to answer it. He came back a few moments later with a bouquet of pale pink roses and set them down on the kitchen table. “They’re for you.”

“Again?” This was getting odd. “Who delivered them?”

Alex shrugged. “Some dude.”

“Did he say who bought them?”

“No, he was just the delivery guy.”

Alex handed her the card from the bouquet.

She read it silently as he went back to work on the food.

“Everything okay?” Alex asked.

“Hmm?”

“You look worried. Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know.” She frowned. “This is the third time I’ve gotten flowers from an anonymous person. He doesn’t sign the cards, yet he writes very personal messages, and always what I needed to hear. I think it’s Dr. Lazarus. I sent him a card in return. I guess he’s keeping up on what’s going on with Helen.”

“Sounds a little creepy to me.” He needed to tell her
he
was the one sending the damn flowers, but now wasn’t the time. For them to make this
relationship
work, and for MacKay to go away, they needed to be a team.

He wasn’t going to do anything to upset her, even though he wanted to tell her he was her secret admirer. Somehow, his feelings went from admiration and liking to emotions that ran much deeper, and he didn’t know how she was going to receive that bit of news. He’d find a time to tell her when so much wasn’t riding on their every move, word, and expression.

Besides, he needed to find a way to show her he could come up with all that poetry. At the moment she thought him too macho or something.