But when it came right down to it, she couldn’t lie, bald-faced, to Ashley. She knew she’d feel ridiculous saying that one of the most famous men in America had fallen in love with her, especially when he’d never so much as given her an appreciative glance.
She couldn’t bear lying to the rest of the people who worked for her, either. Which meant Josh had to do it. “Josh will explain the situation to you and everyone else.”
Josh blinked at her. “I will?”
“Yes.” Maybe it’d be more believable if everyone heard it secondhand while she went underground, anyway. She’d take the phone off the hook and hole up in her house for two or three days. That would go far toward convincing everyone that her “relationship” with Simon was real. If she suddenly went quiet instead of going on the record with an admission or a denial, the press would chase after the story that much harder and break it that much bigger.
The paparazzi would be waiting for her when she emerged, of course. She wouldn’t be able to avoid them altogether. But hiding out until Wednesday would save her a lot of acting, which she feared wasn’t her strong suit despite the misplaced confidence she’d exhibited at Simon’s.
Josh cleared his throat. “Right, I will. And you…”
“Will be at home for a couple of days,” she finished while packing up her briefcase.
“Right again. Not coming in is probably a good idea. We’ll do what we can without you.”
“Thanks.” In a moment of clarity, Gail realized she’d set a match to a trail of gunpowder by making that agreement with Simon. But it was too late to put out the fire.
All she could do was try to survive the explosion.
8
Relieved to be safe in her little beach house, Gail lowered the blinds in her bedroom, curled up on her bed and stared at Callie’s picture and contact information on her cell phone. She’d never purposely ducked a friend’s call before. At least not one of her friends from Whiskey Creek.
“Oh, what the heck,” she mumbled. “Get it over with.” Once the news that she was seeing Simon O’Neal broke, she’d have to worry about her phones being tapped or her house being bugged—laughable considering she was no head of state or criminal informant. Her only claim to fame would be that she was “dating” a box office hit.
But tabloids were big business, hence the worry that someone could stoop to such means to get inside information. She might as well use this time to prepare her friends and family, before sightings of her and Simon began to appear in the media.
Her father should’ve been her first call, but Gail preferred to break into this easily. It was the weekend. She had that going for her. With so many people out doing other things, word wouldn’t spread quite as fast as it would on a weekday.
Callie picked up on the second ring. “Jeez, there you are. I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”
“Sorry. Been working.”
“On a Saturday?”
Gail pictured her curvaceous bombshell of a friend. She used to wish she looked like Callie, who resembled Marilyn Monroe. “Always.”
“You should really take a day off here and there.”
“You’ve mentioned that before. What’s up?”
“I’ve been dying to tell you something.”
“What?”
“You’re not going to believe it.”
Callie wouldn’t believe what Gail had to say, either. “Try me.”
“Matt’s moving back to town!” she announced with a “ta da” flourish.
Sure she must’ve heard wrong, Gail gripped her chest.
“Hello?” Callie said. “Did I lose you?”
She’d forgotten to breathe. Air. She needed air. Taking a big gulp, she sat up and forced words out as she exhaled. “No…I’m… I haven’t gone anywhere.”
“Did you hear what I said?”
This had to be a mistake. Matt wouldn’t leave Wisconsin in the middle of football season. “What happened? He didn’t get injured again, did he?”
“Not a new injury, no. Just more of the same old stuff. Knee’s acting up.”
Gail wasn’t sure how to react. She’d been in love with Matt since she was in middle school. They’d finally gone out in July and nearly wound up in bed together. But, to her severe disappointment, he hadn’t called since. “So…is he out of the NFL for good?”
“I don’t think so. They had to do a second surgery, and he’s in therapy, but he’s planning to return to Green Bay next season.”
Too agitated to remain on her bed, Gail got up and began to pace. “How did you find out? You talked to him?”
“No. My mother heard the news while she was having her hair done. You know what this town is like.”
Gail had been hoping Matt would come home eventually, had dreamed of it. Given the opportunity, she thought he might ask her out again. But she found herself cringing at the possibility that he wouldn’t be able to continue playing football. He loved the sport like nothing else. “Do you know how long he’ll be staying?”
“Months. Until he’s recovered.”
“Wow.” She pivoted near the French doors that opened onto her postage stamp of a backyard. “I hope…I hope it heals well.”
“You mean you hope it heals slowly,” Callie said with a laugh. “I thought of you as soon as I heard. He’ll be here when you come home for Thanksgiving in a few weeks.” She put some innuendo into her voice. “With you two in the same town for a few days, you never know what might happen.”
Nothing would happen now because Gail wasn’t going home. And even if she did, she’d be married. She’d been waiting years for this news—and it had to come on the day she’d made a business arrangement to marry someone else. “He’s probably got a girlfriend,” she said. Maybe that was why he hadn’t called her after their date last summer. Maybe there’d been someone else all along....
“Nope. Word has it he’s as single as he’s ever been.”
So they would’ve had a chance?
Suddenly claustrophobic, Gail went out onto the patio where she liked to read or answer email. Normally, she loved it out here, but her piece of heaven didn’t hold the same magic for her today. Her heart had been yanked back to the Sierra Nevada foothills, to the historic gold-mining town where she’d grown up and so many of her friends still lived.