Chapter 14 #2
“Nope. But give me a little time to think of another option where I might have an in.”
She untucked her legs and stretched them across the ottoman.
He flashed on how she’d wrapped those long, shapely legs around his waist and made himself shut the vision down.
He wasn’t here for a bootie call. If she insisted that would be one thing.
But he’d come over to talk, not to tangle up the sheets.
“What if we started our own gourmet grocery store? We could focus on local goods. Olive oils, wine, produce, cheese—you know the drill.”
She wagged her hand from side to side. “I’m not saying no.
But something with name recognition would be better.
Basically, you’re talking about a fancy farm stand.
With a good roadside billboard, you might attract people who are passing through.
But I don’t know that anyone would drive hours just for your farm stand. ”
Sawyer rubbed the back of his neck. “Since there are lots of them along California highways, it would have to be one hell of a farm stand, I guess.”
“Exactly.” She yawned, which should’ve been his cue to leave, but he wanted to loiter.
“I should go. Let you get some sleep,” he said halfheartedly just to be polite, hoping she’d invite him to stay.
The desire to linger was an anomaly for Sawyer, who usually couldn’t get his boots on fast enough when leaving a woman’s house.
He wouldn’t call it fear of commitment, just attention deficit disorder where members of the opposite sex were concerned.
“It’s not even ten yet.” She eyed his empty ice cream bowl. “You want something else to eat? Or I could open a bottle of wine.”
“You have beer?” He didn’t wait for her to answer, got up, checked her refrigerator, and found a six-pack of Firestone hiding behind a carton of Greek yogurt. He held up one of the beers, silently asking permission.
“Help yourself.”
“You want one?” She nodded and he popped the caps off two bottles and brought them back to the living room.
There was a noise outside. It sounded like a critter scampering across the deck. He flicked on the porch light and peered outside the window.
“What?” she asked. “Did you hear something?”
Other than a swarm of gnats buzzing around the glow of the lantern, he saw nothing amiss. “It was probably a raccoon or an opossum.” They had plenty of both on the ranch.
“Or another stalker with a camera.” She got to her feet and joined him at the window.
“Jace said he’ll talk to Tiffany about keeping her mouth shut.”
“What good will that do? The horse is already out of the barn.”
Probably, but he couldn’t help but hope that their visitor was an isolated incident. “We’ll see. If need be, we’ll take evasive measures.”
“No evasive measures,” she said, standing so close he could feel her body heat. “This is your home and your business. It should always feel secure, not like a sideshow. If more reporters come, I’ll leave.”
“I don’t want you to leave.” The admission—the revelation itself—surprised the hell out of him and he immediately began to think of ways to rephrase what he’d just said, because he needed time to digest whatever this was he was feeling.
“I mean, you shouldn’t have to go. You came here because it’s safe.
I’ll damn well make sure it stays that way. ”
“I’m not afraid of these people. I just don’t want them creating a problem for your family.”
“We can handle whatever comes up,” he said, knowing full well that only weeks ago he would’ve seized on an opportunity like this to boot her all the way back to LA.
But somewhere along the way his attitude toward her had changed and it was damned inconvenient.
Outside of his family, he didn’t take on other people’s problems unless it was for work.
And those crusades tended to be about world crises, not how to shield a fallen celebrity chef from the paparazzi.
But something significant had changed between them and it wasn’t just fantastic sex.
“I’m sure you can. But I’m not that selfish.”
“Yes, you are.” He winked to show he was teasing, but wanted to steer them onto their usual course of needling each other. It was easier than facing up to the fact that he might be falling for her. He wasn’t ready to fall, especially for a woman who was so ill-suited for him.
“I talked to my mother earlier. I told her I was helping you and that you were on board with her sharing info with me.” He held eye contact with her to make sure he hadn’t overstepped.
She nodded. “My mom says that Candace Clay had approached a divorce attorney before the scandal broke. Did she tell you that?”
“Yes, which shows you how obnoxiously phony showbiz is. According to everyone in television, they were the ‘it’ couple, so in love there were literally hearts flying out of their asses.” Gina rolled her eyes. “I guess that was a load of horse manure.”
Their public image might’ve been a complete facade, but it seemed to Sawyer that both Gina and his mother were missing the bigger point. “You don’t think the timing is strange?”
Gina hitched her shoulders. “Maybe Danny’s a huge player and Candace was sick of his infidelity long before the story about him and me broke. Who’s to say?”
“Where’s your computer?” Sawyer had an idea.
Gina got up and fetched her laptop from the bedroom. “Why?”
“I want to see something.” He snatched it from her and opened a Google image search for Candace and Danny Clay, which returned pages of pictures.
Gina perched on the arm of his chair while he sifted through the photos. “What are you looking for?”
He jumped back on the internet and pulled up the notorious wide-lens shot of Gina and Danny on the beach.
“Something that looks like this with Danny or Candace or both of them in it. I’m thinking this was shot somewhere tropical.
” He pointed at the palm trees in the background of the photo.
Unfortunately, there were a hell of a lot of tropical beaches.
“Just keep your eye out for something that has this background.” He returned to his search.
“Why them?” Gina leaned in to get a better look at the screen. “Someone could’ve superimposed Danny and me onto a beer ad for all we know.”
“You could be right, but it’s a lot less work if one of you is already in the shot. When was the last time you visited a tropical beach?”
“Uh…never. I can’t remember the last time I had a vacation, let alone one in Tahiti. And this doesn’t look anything like Malibu.” She motioned at the photograph of her and Danny that Sawyer had moved to the other half of the screen.
“Nope. That’s why we’re searching pictures of the Clays. Call it a hunch, but I’m betting they were recently somewhere that looks just like this.”
And even if his premonition didn’t pan out, it at least kept his hands busy—and off her. He was still reeling from their unprotected sex that morning. He couldn’t remember being that irresponsible, not even in high school.
“Can we do this on the couch?” She wriggled her butt on the arm.
He put the laptop down on the coffee table, lifted her off her feet, held her a little longer than he should’ve, and dropped her in the center of the sofa. Sawyer took the end of the couch and went back to scrolling through pictures.
She scooted closer to him and rested her head against his shoulder.
“If you’re tired I can do this,” he said, trying to pretend that he wasn’t affected by her nearness.
“No, I’m awake. You’re just comfy. Like a big pillow.” She yawned. “I don’t see anything.”
So far, the shots he’d found were mostly of the promotional variety. Some of them appeared to be screen grabs of past episodes of their show and there were a few pictures of the couple attending charity events.
From Candace’s tight smiles and mannequin-like poses with Danny, Sawyer wasn’t surprised that her marriage was on the rocks. Judging by the photos—Danny was all smiles and adoring glances at his wife—her husband hadn’t gotten the memo.
Or he was an Academy Award–caliber actor.
Who could honestly say? Perhaps Danny was more comfortable around a camera than his wife. Perhaps Candace had had a bad case of food poisoning when the photo had been shot. Sometimes a photo wasn’t worth a thousand words. Sometimes they were just snapshots of a single moment in time.
When Sawyer got tired of scanning publicity shots, he entered a set of new terms into the search engine. Clays. Celebrity chefs. Vacation. Beach.
The first page of photos depicted a lot of the same. Candace and Danny headshots, more pictures of the couple on the set of their show, and a collection of them posing with other celebrity chefs. The next page was filled with images of the couple at the South Beach Wine and Food Festival.
At least they were getting closer. There was actually sand in a few of the shots.
“They go every year.” Gina burrowed her head under his arm and rested her cheek against his chest. He subconsciously wound a strand of her hair around his finger.
“Do you go too?”
“Sometimes. The last few years, I bailed, sending someone from my company instead. I hate those things. It’s a lot of hobnobbing.”
From the photos it looked like one big drunken party for the rich and bored. He scrolled down, just about to give up. That’s when he saw it. A photograph of Danny and Candace on a strikingly familiar beach.
Gina sat up straight. “Oh my God, that’s it. That’s the picture.”
The photograph depicted Danny sitting in the sand, wearing the same swim trunks as the ones in the photo with Gina. Same ear-splitting grin. Same sandy beach. Same palm trees. Same blue ocean water. The only difference was Candace sat next to Danny in an embroidered sundress.
“It’s as if they erased her and stuck someone else’s body into the picture with my head.”
Sawyer moved the two photos side by side for a closer comparison. “That’s exactly what someone did.” The pictures were identical. Except in the second one, Candace had been replaced by a bikini-clad Gina.
“What does the caption on the photo say?”
He clicked to enlarge the picture, then moved his mouse to the visit box, which took him to a tourism page for Tulum, Mexico and a caption that said they were there two years ago, shooting an episode of their show on how to make ceviche.
They both looked at each other and then she squealed and threw her arms around his neck. “You’re a genius, Sawyer Dalton. This will prove I’m not the skank everyone thinks I am.”
“Hang on.” He gently pulled her away. “This is only one piece of the puzzle. Before you go public, you need more. Like time stamps to show which photo came first. And motive. Otherwise this doesn’t make any sense.”
“I don’t care whether it makes sense. That photo”—she jabbed her finger at the screen—“shows that the one of Danny and me is bullshit. Pure and simple. I’m going to post it on my website. Show the world that I’ve been falsely accused. This proves it.”
Not quite. But he didn’t want to burst her balloon. “Slow down, sweetheart. Let’s do this the right way. First, let’s call my mom. This is what you’re paying her for and she’ll know exactly how to proceed with this new information.”
Gina reached for her phone on the coffee table and Sawyer covered her hand with his. His mother kept late hours, but it was closing in on midnight. “Why don’t you wait until first thing tomorrow?”
It wasn’t as if his mom could do anything with their information now anyway. And Sawyer wasn’t convinced this was all they needed to clear Gina’s name. The original photo was far from a smoking gun as far as he was concerned. But it was a start.
A good start.
He saved the picture to Gina’s hard drive and emailed himself a copy. Glancing at his watch again, he knew he should go. But instead, he stayed rooted to the couch like an ancient oak tree.
“You want to spend the night?” she asked.
“No,” he returned honestly. “But I can’t seem to force myself to leave.”
For once, she didn’t have a smart refrain, just took his hand, tugged him off the sofa, and led him to her bedroom. He watched her undress, took off his own clothes, crawled under the top sheet, and curled himself around her.
When he woke the next morning, he found her tucked up against him with her head on his chest. It felt so right that a rush of warmth coursed through him. And that’s when he knew that this was different than anything he’d ever felt for a woman before.
Dangerously different.