Tears made him feel inadequate. Especially coming from her. In the three years they’d worked together, throughout all the bookings and events and movie releases and good and bad publicity, she’d always been so composed. “Try harder.”
“Thanks for the empathy,” she muttered.
Partially so he wouldn’t have to look at her, he crossed the room and poured a glass of champagne from the bottle that had been put on ice, then pressed it into her hands. “Here, maybe this will help.”
“I don’t drink.”
He grimaced. “One of the many reasons I don’t like you. Drink it, anyway.”
She downed it as though it was water and the subsequent coughing fit distracted her enough that she was able to shut off the waterworks.
“So what is it you want from me?” he asked. “How do I make this…go away?”
The shrewdness in her eyes returned. “You mean me? How do you make me go away?”
After taking a second to think about it, he shrugged. “Basically, yeah.”
“You can say that so nonchalantly after destroying my business?”
He considered explaining that he hadn’t been as actively involved as she might imagine, but didn’t bother. He doubted she’d believe him, anyway. “You need money, is that it?”
“No! I want my former clients back. And not for my sake—well, not entirely. The way things sit right now, I’ll have to let my employees go, and…they need their jobs.”
Her situation was that dire? Already? He was going to kill Ian. Why’d he have to take it so damn far? “Fine. I’ll contact a few people, see what I can do to reverse the damage. Call me next week. Good enough? Will you go home now and…watch TV or reorganize your cupboards or whatever exciting thing you do in your spare time? Maybe you can go online and look for a dress that would be appropriate for a party like this.”
He could tell she was tempted to land a good jab of her own. He knew she was capable of it. But she held her tongue. With a sniff and a nod, she handed him the champagne flute and started to leave.
“And, Gail?”
She glanced over her shoulder.
“I don’t have a disease, sexually transmitted or otherwise. I can provide the test results if you’re interested.”
At least she had the decency to blush. “No. Sorry,” she said, and slipped out.
3
Joshua jumped to his feet the moment Gail breezed into her office. “Did you see it?”
She wasn’t surprised to find him waiting for her. Not after what they’d discussed yesterday. Looking forward to being able to put his fears to rest, to reassure all of her employees, she smiled. It hadn’t been easy eating crow at the party last night—breaking into tears had been downright humiliating—but as agonizing as those few minutes had been, they’d also been worth it. Simon had promised to right what he’d done and she trusted he’d follow through. He wouldn’t want her bothering him again, especially in public; he’d made that clear.
She’d slept soundly for the first time since dropping Simon O’Neal from her client roster. After spending an hour at the gym, she’d stopped off at a different coffeehouse than her usual one, just for a change, and was really enjoying the new blend. It was a good morning.
“See what?” She handed Josh her coffee while she removed her jacket and hung it on the rack.
His own smile a bit smug, he held up the folded tabloid he carried in his other hand. “Hollywood Secrets Revealed.”
“No.” She hadn’t even signed on to her computer yet. She’d skipped that part of her morning ritual because she hadn’t been worried she might find some damaging anecdote or tell-all about one of her clients in the gossip blogs or Hollywood e-zines. She wouldn’t have to worry about that until she’d recovered some of her list. “Did Simon do something stupid after I left last night?”
This seemed to take Josh aback. “What do you mean?”
“At the premiere party.”
“You went there? You saw him?”
She sent him a conspirator’s smile. “I sure did.”
His mouth hung open in surprise as she took her coffee. “What for?”
“To apologize. Why else would I go? He’s agreed to do what he can to help us get back on our feet. We’re going to be fine.” Hallelujah! What a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She felt so light, as if she could walk on air—until she noticed that Joshua wasn’t reacting to this news as favorably as she’d expected. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you relieved?”
Stumbling back, he reached behind him to locate a seat and sank into it, clasping Hollywood Secrets Revealed to his chest. “Heaven help me…”
She felt her eyebrows go up. “Heaven help you what? I said we wouldn’t be filing for bankruptcy. I fixed things. We’ll be okay.” She gave his arm a reassuring squeeze and sipped her coffee while waiting for him to absorb the good news. “So…what’s in HSR this morning? A mess for Chelsea Seagate to clean up?”
With a chuckle for poor Chelsea, she started to round her desk, then stopped. “Why do you look like you just swallowed a marble?” she asked as her assistant’s horrified expression finally dispelled the euphoria that had carried her to work this morning.
“I—I didn’t know you planned to make up with Simon. You didn’t say that. Not exactly. You said you were going to throw a Hail Mary. I thought that meant you’d try and beg Clint to come back, or…or apply for a loan…or go after Chelsea’s old clients…or consider branching into fashion and beauty PR. I never dreamed he’d accept your apology even if you offered him one.”
She remembered the argument she and Simon had had when he’d been charged with public drunkenness. “Neither did I. He’s been a bear lately, angry all the time. I must’ve caught him in a benevolent mood.” She gestured for Josh to give her the paper. “Let me have a look at what’s got you so worked up.”
Closing his eyes, he dropped his head back as if his neck could no longer hold it up.
“What’s wrong with you?” She laughed because she couldn’t take him seriously. He tended to be overly dramatic. And whatever was upsetting him couldn’t be worse than the problem she’d just solved. Absolute disaster had a way of putting lesser setbacks in proportion. “Josh? The paper?” she prompted when he made no move to hand it over.