“You’re not being reasonable! It’ll be hard enough giving up alcohol.”
“You said you could do it. I said maybe you should go into rehab instead. We’ll just make matters worse if we attempt this and fail. And you said you weren’t addicted.”
“I’m not addicted, but…God, I could use a little help. A shoulder to cry on, if nothing else.”
She folded her arms. “I’ll lend you my shoulder, if you’ve got to have one, but nothing else. And I won’t be criticizing everything you do,” she added. “If it has no impact on the campaign, I won’t say a word.”
“You won’t have to,” he said. “I’ll be able to see it in your face, which happens to reveal every thought you have. In any event, I have no intention of going without sex for two years on top of everything else. The way I see it, getting lucky every once in a while might be the only enjoyment I’ll experience in two hellish years. Why would I give that up?”
Gail held her ground even though her high heels were beginning to pinch her toes and she was dying to sit. “Because you’ve let your son down and this is the only way to make it up to him, that’s why!”
His hands curled into fists as if he wanted to strike her, or strike something. Maybe it was only verbal, but she’d slugged him where it hurt. She’d had to. If they didn’t stay focused, keep their goals in sight, they’d fail before they ever got started. And she had a lot riding on this, too.
“How hard can it be?” She went on more calmly, hoping to placate him. “You’ve already made it abundantly clear that I don’t appeal to you.”
His eyes, now glittery, roamed over her, making her want to cover herself even though she was fully dressed. “I assumed you’d be better than nothing. But maybe I was wrong.”
“Oh, stop acting like a—” She caught herself before she could call him any names. He was looking for a fight. Why accommodate him? “Never mind. Forget it. No sex. Do I have your agreement?”
“I wouldn’t touch you if you stood in front of me naked and begged,” he grumbled.
Fabulous. She had what she wanted. But somehow it didn’t make her feel any better. His capitulation, and the sentiment behind it, stung enough that she couldn’t resist a final salvo. “Fine, because I have some standards myself, you know, and dissolute movie stars aren’t high on my list of must-have men.”
“That’s the best you’ve got? Dissolute?” Wearing a pained expression, he turned to Ian. “Does anyone in the real world even use that word these days?”
“I’ve seen it in books,” Ian said, his voice speculative.
She rolled her eyes. “I doubt you’ve ever picked up a book. It means—”
“You’re not the only one here with a brain,” Simon interrupted. “I know what it means. And as far as comebacks go, it sucks. Do you think I haven’t heard it all before? That you’re the only person with an opinion on how I live my life?”
All the things she’d wanted to tell him in the past but hadn’t seemed to rise in her throat and propel her forward, until she stood almost nose to nose with him. At six feet, he still had her by a few inches, but the heels helped. “You probably haven’t heard the half of it,” she said, “because I’m the only one who’ll state it plainly, the only one who’s not out to get something from you. Who else will tell you that you need to pull your head out of your ass? The people who depend on you for a paycheck?” She motioned at Ian. “Him? Mr. Suck-up?”
Ian pressed a hand to his chest as if she’d just shot him. “Ouch! I take back what I said. I don’t like you at all.”
Simon ignored him. “Seriously? I hear how rotten I am all the time. My ex has said much worse than you could ever come up with—and she’s said it to the papers so I have the print version in case I forget.”
She’d made some comments that’d been printed, too, but she didn’t want to remind him. “Yeah, well, you can’t trust Bella, either. She’s hurt and she’s angry, and she’s determined to have her revenge. I’m honest, not vindictive. If I tell you something, it’s true. And I’m telling you this—you need to pull your head out!”
“Maybe she’s not so bad at comebacks.” Ian was obviously trying to break the tension, but it didn’t work.
Sending his manager a dirty look, Simon returned to the couch. “You’re not some sort of oracle, Ms. DeMarco, so quit pretending. I won’t take advice from a repressed PR failure with her jacket buttoned up to her neck. And you are hoping for something from me. You want me to save your business and cut you a hefty check when this is all over.”
She put her hands on her hips. “If you’d like to marry someone else, I’ll do the PR for free. But two years of my life doesn’t come cheap. And you’re the one who destroyed my business in the first place. You owe me.”
She thought he’d come right back at her, tell her it was Ian who’d gone after her and not him. But without his name Ian wouldn’t have had the power to pull off what he’d done.
Simon didn’t attempt to argue, however. A sigh hinted at how tired he was. Had he even been to bed last night? He looked like he’d been up for days. “Maybe I do,” he relented, “but you don’t have to make this so hard.”
She got the feeling that they weren’t talking strictly about sex anymore, but it was more comfortable to respond as if they were. “I’ll be going without, too.”
“You don’t seem to have a problem with it, which doesn’t say much for your love life.”
He’d hit a little too close to the truth. She wasn’t sure whom she’d sleep with even if she wanted a bed partner. Her last relationship ended three years ago; she hadn’t been with anyone since. But she wasn’t about to admit that to him. “Let’s leave my love life out of it.”
In an effort to turn the conversation around, Ian abandoned his seat by the computer and came forward. “Look—” he touched her elbow to get her to face him “—this’ll be a piece of cake for you. What’s so terrible about a couple of years spent eating at the best restaurants, shopping at the most expensive stores and flying around the world?”
Besides the fact that it meant she’d have to endure two years of knowing Simon found her completely unattractive and, worse, unlikable? Could her self-esteem survive such a constant beating?