Playing For Keeps (Emerald Lake Billionaires 2) (5 page)

She looked away from him and stared at the piles of paper on his desk. “Have you always been this untidy?”

“I’m a work in progress. Jamie can never find anything, so he doesn’t come in here anymore. The bills mostly get
paid on time and we’re on budget, so I can’t be too bad. Are you going to tell me you’re super-organized?”

Sophie was one of the most organized people she knew. “I inherited my tidy genes from my mom.” She straightened a stack of folders before they fell to the ground. “I’ve got a proposition for you.”

An amused gleam filled Ryan’s eyes. “You might want to rephrase that statement.”

“Jamie didn’t seem too impressed that I didn’t know how to use a spray gun. What if I helped put the rest of the plastic sheeting over the windows and doors and then tidied your office? I could sort all of your bills in order of payment date, organize all of the letters and emails that you need to respond to, and answer any phone calls that come through. Once I’ve finished, I could go back to helping you in the house.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

Sophie pointed to the jumble of papers in Ryan’s office. “I probably feel the same way about what’s in your office as you do about your art gallery. I like everything to be tidy. If I tried to use the spray gun, I’d probably end up being fired by the end of the day. But this way, I can make a difference to your office and hopefully to your project. Jamie will be happy, you’ll be happy, and I’ll still have a job.”

“And what would a super-efficient secretary cost me?”

Sophie crossed her fingers, hoping Ryan was serious. “Thirteen dollars an hour and the use of your Internet connection out of work hours.” Sophie didn’t want to make a fortune. All she needed was enough to pay her campground fee, have a hot shower each morning, and wash her laundry each week. She’d worked out the cheapest way of buying food and didn’t need much of anything else.

Ryan’s Internet connection would give her access to the files and addresses she needed. And, if she was careful, another way to contact her sister.

“Are you sure that’s enough? Jamie keeps telling me that nothing short of a bulldozer will fix the mess in this room.”

“Thirteen dollars an hour is more than enough. I won’t start in the office until all of the rooms are ready for painting.” She hesitated before adding her final condition. “I need to be paid in cash. Have we got a deal?”

“Cash?”

Sophie nodded. “I don’t have a bank account that I can access.” It seemed like a lame excuse, but it was the only one that made sense.

Ryan held out his hand. “We’ve got a deal. But if you find anything dead and furry
amongst the papers, you’d better get Danny to throw it out. I’m not good with rodents.”

“You won’t need to worry about that. It’s the living ones that make me nervous.” Sophie shook Ryan’s hand. “Congratulations. You’ve got yourself a super-efficient secretary.”

His grip tightened around her fingers. “Whatever happens, just remember that I’m the same guy you met on the side of the road.”

“Are you going to turn into a werewolf at
the next full moon?”

Ryan let go of her hand. “If you believe what’s been written in the media, I’ve already turned into a monster,” he muttered.

Sophie stared at him. He must be more famous than she thought. “At least you’re not a
hairy
monster.”

A grin replaced Ryan’s frown. “I think we’re going to get along just fine, Sophie. Welcome to chaos.”

***

Four days later, Ryan frowned at the convoy of vehicles driving toward his home. At the front of the line was a bright red convertible. He knew who was driving it just by the white scarf wrapped around the woman’s head. Dorothy Patterson never did anything by halves.

He stuck his hands on his hips and didn’t move. His publicist had really outdone herself this time. With six vehicles kicking up a dust storm it was a wonder his neighbors didn’t call the fire department. A bushfire would have looked less obvious than the plumes of dirt rising into the air.

“Looks like you’ve got company,” Danny said from beside him. “Whoever they are, they’ve got good taste in vehicles.”

Ryan wasn’t impressed with the high-end rentals stopping in front of his home. Dorothy shouldn’t be here and she shouldn’t have brought her entourage of media moguls and groupies.

“Darling,” Dorothy cooed from beside her vehicle. “You didn’t tell me how much you’ve done since the last time I was here.”

Without looking at the other perfectly manicured people, Ryan knew that Dorothy was putting on an act for her audience. “Long time no see,” he drawled.

Dorothy had the grace to look slightly ashamed of herself. “I am not letting a little thing like you not talking to me interfere with our plans.”

“And what plans would they be?”

She rolled her contact-enhanced blue eyes and sighed delicately. “How quickly you’ve forgotten. It’s just as well you’ve got me to look after you.” She turned to a man carrying a camera. “Walk around Ryan’s property, Manuel, and tell me where you want to take the photos. You know what we’re looking for.”

She turned back to Ryan and smiled innocently at his scowling face. “There’s no need to get huffy. This is for your own good.”

Manuel disappeared around the side of Ryan’s home. “What are you doing here, Dorothy? You weren’t supposed to arrive until next week.”

“Our plans have changed. I heard from Robert at
Entertainment Today.
Cindy is about to launch the demise of your career. I need photos of you looking rugged and handsome in the next hour. If you can throw in an innocent expression or two, it wouldn’t hurt.”

“We’re in the middle of spray painting the house. You can’t waltz in here and take over my home.”

Dorothy clicked her fingers and three women stepped forward. With crimped hair, red lips, and dresses that belonged on rock ‘n’ roll dancers, they looked as though they’d stepped out of the 1950s. Maria, Antoinette, and Elizabeth are going to make you look like everyone’s boy next door. There’s no point standing there like a statue, Ryan. We’ve got work to do and we’re wasting time.”

Dorothy turned to another person and started giving them orders.

“Sounds like she knows what she’s doing,” Danny said with a hint of admiration in his voice. “She could give Jamie a run for is money in the bossy department.”

Dorothy looked at Danny. “And I thought you were such a nice boy. If you want to make yourself useful, you could stop that awful noise coming from inside the house.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” he said with a grin. “Jamie’s busy spraying one of the upstairs bedrooms. That’s the compressor you can hear. He won’t be too pleased if I turn it off.”

“In that case, we’ll leave Jamie alone. But if you could ask him if we could have a little quiet in about fifteen minutes, I’d appreciate it.”

Danny nodded and disappeared inside.

Dorothy looked Ryan up and down. “What are we going to do with you?”

“Nothing. I’m perfect as I am.”

Dorothy gave a ladylike snort. “No one is perfect in a publicist’s world.” She turned to the three 1950s lookalikes and frowned. “We’ll need to do the works.”

She turned to Ryan and asked, “Do you have running water yet?”

“We have four fully functioning bathrooms. If you need to freshen up, you can use the bathroom on the first floor opposite the landing. Just watch out for Jamie.”

“Jamie is a darling. Last time I was here he was practically tripping over himself to help me.”

Ryan didn’t like to burst Dorothy’s bubble of confidence, but she had a lot to learn about Jamie. “He was trying to get you to leave. If that meant bowing to your wishes, he did it in double-quick time.”

“Maybe you should take a leaf out of his book?” Dorothy said sweetly. “He’s obviously a shrewd judge of character.” She looked toward his home. “Who do we have here?”

Sophie stepped back inside the house, but not quickly enough to miss Dorothy’s laser beam stare.

“That’s Sophie. She’s working in my office, helping to organize all of the files and bills.”

“She must be a brave woman to set foot in that space you call an office. But we digress. Hit the shower, Ryan. You’ve got ten minutes to make yourself look presentable. Don’t shave. You look better with a little stubble shadowing your jaw.”

Ryan wasn’t about to leave Dorothy on her own outside his home. The last time he’d done that she’d taken photos of his property and published them on every social media channel she could find.

Dorothy waved her hands in front of his chest. “Shoo. I need those photos pronto, and they aren’t going to happen while you’re covered in paint.”

Danny stepped forward. “It’s okay. I’ll make sure she behaves herself.”

Dorothy sent Danny the kind of smile that should have made him fear for his life. “Oh, to be so young and innocent. The vultures are circling. Behaving oneself is not the prime objective of this visit. And you,” she said pointedly to Ryan, “need to have that shower.”

Ryan didn’t see that he had any choice. He’d been hoping that Dorothy would have forgotten about her little plan, but he should have known better.

Dorothy was as bad as his
ex-wife. Neither of them forgot anything.

***

As soon as Sophie saw the first vehicle drive into Ryan’s front yard, she knew trouble wasn’t far away. She’d just started to feel comfortable surrounded by nothing but green hills and an emerald lake. Jamie and Danny treated her like one of their family.

It had taken two full days to organize the files in Ryan’s office. She’d found bills that were overdue, a list of building supplies that should have been ordered last week, and a moldy muffin under a telephone book.

Now here she was, a grown woman with a PhD in genetic microbiology, hiding in an office that didn’t belong to her. She could hear the voices of the people who
had arrived unexpectedly. The lady wearing the white scarf seemed to know Ryan really well. Within minutes, she had everyone organized into busy teams of activity.

The lady wearing the scarf appeared in the doorway. “Are you Sophie?” she asked.

Sophie nodded.

“I’m Dorothy Patterson, Ryan’s publicist. I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting each other.”

Sophie wasn’t sure that ‘pleasure’ was the word she would have used to describe meeting Dorothy. A publicist’s job was to draw media attention to their client. The last thing Sophie wanted or needed was someone who knew how to manipulate the press.

Sophie sat behind Ryan’s desk and didn’t move. “Nice to meet you.”

Dorothy looked at her closely. “You’re a pretty thing. With a little work, we could make you quite stunning.”

Sophie’s mouth dropped open. “I’m happy the way I am. Was there anything I could help you with?”

Dorothy didn’t seem the least put out by Sophie’s question. “Not at the moment,” she said with a smile. “But I might need to keep you up my sleeve for future options. Your accent is a nice contrast to Ryan’s country twang.”

Sophie had no idea what Ryan’s publicist was talking about, and she didn’t want to ask. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some emails that I need to send.” Before Dorothy could say anything, Sophie pulled her notebook closer and started typing on the keyboard.

Dorothy stood in the doorway for a few seconds more before leaving. Sophie heard the clickety-clack of her shoes as they tapped along the hallway.

Jamie would be pleased they’d left the drop cloths on the floor. If they hadn’t, Dorothy’s heels would have left a permanent reminder of her presence.

Other people walked past her office, but no one interrupted what she was doing. She quickly sent the emails Ryan had drafted to suppliers in Great Falls, then looked on the Internet for information about his publicist.

Dorothy Patterson began working with Ryan five years ago, not long after he divorced his wife. She had the kind of reputation only a publicist could admire. She looked after her clients, and her clients looked after her. Dorothy had a home in the Bahamas and another house in Florida. But most of the time she lived in Nashville with her two dogs and a chauffeur-driven Rolls-Royce.

She heard Ryan run down the stairs, yelling for Dorothy.

Dorothy’s voice echoed through the empty living room. “What are you screaming about?” she said in a far too modulated tone.

There was nothing modulated about Ryan’s response. “What is your team doing? They’re dressing me like a peacock in a penguin suit.”

“The penguin suit you’re referring to was designed by Calvin Klein. It cost more than most people make in six months. Manuel has found the perfect location for a shot of you by the lake. You don’t need to worry about the tie. Maria decided to leave the top two domes open.”

“I don’t give a rat’s tail about what Maria wants me to wear,” Ryan growled. “I’ve already had Elizabeth telling me how to dry my hair. I thought these photos were supposed to look natural? You don’t look natural with half a can of hairspray stuck to your head.”

“There’s no need to yell at my staff. Natural only works away from the camera. If you want your photo plastered across all of the major entertainment sites, you need to forget about your fragile ego and get a move on. The light’s fading fast and Manuel is waiting.”