Damage Control (The Hollywood Series Book 2) (13 page)

“God, no. I could see myself hiding out here. Well, if not for the fact that you probably don’t have Internet or phone reception.”

“Yeah, phone reception is pretty spotty here, but the Internet works most of the time. If you want to stay and write that statement for tomorrow…”

Lauren thought about it. She wanted to stay and enjoy some peace and quiet for a change, but was it really the proper thing to do? If the media found out they had stayed together overnight in this little cottage with just one bed, it would start the rumors flying. But then again, if the paparazzi found their way up here, she didn’t want Grace to have to face them alone. If she returned to LA, she’d leave Grace stranded without a car or a means to call for help should anything happen. The thought made her shiver despite the warm sunshine. “I’d love to,” she said firmly.

Grace nodded. “Let me get you my laptop.” She returned with a sleek, silver device, settled down at a small wood table, and opened the laptop’s lid. “I just need to send my mother a quick e-mail to let her know I’ll be staying here, then the laptop is all yours. Feel free to use the Internet or try the phone reception out here on the patio if you need to let anyone know where you are.”

“No, it’s okay.” It was a bit sobering to realize that no one would miss her if she didn’t make it home. By now, it was Friday evening, so unless there was a PR fire to put out, no one at the office would wonder where she was either.

After a minute of hunt-and-peck-typing, Grace closed her e-mail program and got up. She swept her arm toward the laptop. “All yours. Can I get you anything while you work?”

“Coffee would be great, if you have it,” Lauren answered as she settled at the table.

“Sure. How do you take yours?”

Remembering Mrs. Duvenbeck’s coffee order, Lauren gave her a horrified glance. “No milk, no sugar, no extra flavor.”

“Oh, you’re one of those people.” Grace nodded knowingly.

“Those people?”

“The ones who like their coffee so strong that the spoon stands up in it.”

Lauren chuckled. “Guilty as charged.”

“One coffee, John Wayne style. Coming right up.”

Lauren watched her walk away, even managing not to ogle her firm backside in the formfitting jeans.
Grace Durand is serving me coffee.
Sometimes, her life was just crazy. With a shake of her head, she slid the laptop closer and got to work.

Grace stretched out in the hammock under the ancient oak tree, gently swaying back and forth, while Lauren sat at the table, working. The sun soaked into her skin, and the warm, dry breeze ruffled her hair. She closed her eyes and felt the stress of the last two weeks melt away. This was the most relaxed she’d been since the media circus had started.

Up here, the typical noise of the city was absent. The only sounds drifting over were the chirping of crickets, the soft warbling of birds, and Lauren’s typing. Strangely, the rapid-fire clickety-clack of the keyboard didn’t disturb her, and neither did Lauren’s presence. Other than Nick and Jill, no one had ever stayed in the cottage with her. This was her refuge from the world, so she had been a little hesitant to bring Lauren here. To her surprise, though, Lauren’s presence didn’t feel like an intrusion.

Lazily, Grace opened one eye and watched Lauren type. Her long, strong fingers darted over the keyboard without Lauren having to look down. Grace watched her for a while and then closed her eyes again, content to let Lauren deal with the problem. Hiring Lauren back after her mother had fired her had definitely been a good idea. Grace realized that she trusted her in a way that she’d never trusted Roberta, her previous publicist.

The sound of a car door slamming shut interrupted the peacefulness. Seconds later, the doorbell rang.

Alarmed, Grace opened her eyes and sat up, nearly tumbling out of the hammock in the process.

But Lauren was already closing the laptop and getting up. “Stay put,” she said, her tone brooking no discussion. “I’ll deal with whoever that is.” She strode inside and then turned to close the sliding door. Their gazes met through the glass, and Lauren gave her a soothing nod before crossing the living room.

Grace’s heart drummed a rapid beat against her ribs. Had the paparazzi found them up here?
Calm down. They wouldn’t ring the doorbell.
It was probably just her mother, who had jumped into her car as soon as she read Grace’s e-mail, horrified about her daughter spending the night in the cottage with a lesbian. Grace sighed. When had her life started to revolve around her sexual orientation?

“What are you doing here?” Nick’s voice, loud and gruff, drifted over. “Where’s Grace?”

“On the patio, but I’m not sure—Hey! You can’t just barge in here and—”

“The hell I can’t!” Nick shoved the glass door open.

Lauren hurried after him and grabbed his shoulder to stop him.

Nick whirled around, towering over her, but Lauren didn’t back off.

For a moment, Grace thought he would hit her. “Nick! No!”

Nick turned toward her and rolled his eyes. “What? Do you honestly think I was about to hit her? Don’t worry; I won’t touch your little girlfriend.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Grace asked, her hands on her hips.

“You tell me.” He folded his muscular arms across his chest. “You and Jill are all over the tabloids, and now I find you here with her.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder, indicating Lauren. “You never bring anyone here. What the fuck is going on? Is this why you wanted a divorce?”

Grace really didn’t need this kind of drama on top of everything else, but she knew she had to deal with it. And he had every right to be angry. She had reminded herself to call him when she’d seen the paparazzi at the mansion but had then forgotten about it, so now he’d gotten ambushed by the media circus.
Damn. We used to be better at communicating.
“It’s okay,” she said to Lauren, who was still hovering nearby as if she were Grace’s bodyguard instead of her publicist. “We’ll just talk—civilly,” she added in Nick’s direction.

“I’ll be right inside,” Lauren said. It sounded like a message to Nick, warning him to be on his best behavior.

Nick stepped onto the patio and closed the glass door. Calmer now, he sat on the chair that Lauren had vacated a minute ago.

Grace took a seat on the other side of the table. She reached out, saved the document Lauren had been working on, and then closed the laptop.

“What’s going on?” Nick asked. “When I got up this morning, you and Jill were all over Twitter. Hundreds of websites swear that Jill just came out as gay and that she confessed to having an affair with you.”

“Do you remember when the tabloids wrote about you and that stuntwoman the year before we got married?”

“Why are you bringing up that bullshit now? I told you there was nothing going on between her and me.”

“Yeah, and I believed you over the tabloids,” Grace said. “Now you can give me the same courtesy. Jill and I are friends, nothing more. We’ll give a press conference, clearing that up, tomorrow.”

Nick slumped against the back of the chair. “I knew it couldn’t be true. Just because we haven’t exactly steamed up the bedroom the last year or two doesn’t mean you’re gay.”

Grace’s cheeks heated. She just hoped their voices didn’t carry through the glass door.

“And neither is Jill,” Nick continued. “I think she has a pretty big crush on Russ.”

Grace nearly barked out a laugh. Jill couldn’t stand Russ and had come up with some creative excuses for why she couldn’t sit next to him on the plane to Georgia and back. “Actually,” she said and took a deep breath. “Jill is gay.”

Nick’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “So it’s true?”

Grace nodded.

“And…and you?”

“I’m not,” Grace answered, not feeling the need to add anything else. Having to discuss her sexual orientation was getting old.

“What about her?” Nick pointed to the cottage.

Grace turned her head and looked through the closed glass door.

Lauren sat on the edge of the couch, ready to jump up and come to her defense at any moment should it become necessary. When their gazes met, Lauren tilted her head in a silent question.

Grace lifted her hand, silently telling her to stay put. “She’s my publicist.”

“But she’s a lesbian, isn’t she?”

Her patience ran thin. She had no intention of discussing Lauren’s sexual orientation in addition to her own. “She’s my publicist,” she repeated. “And a damn good one. Anything else is none of my business—and none of yours either.”

Nick rubbed the scar on his forehead. He looked as if his head was spinning. “You’re right,” he finally got out. “It’s just… I’m trying to understand. I don’t want to sound conceited, but I really don’t get why you suddenly want a divorce. When I told you about Shailene, I was prepared for a temper tantrum, a breakdown…anything. But you just sat there and said nothing, never once appearing to be even a little jealous, for old times’ sake.”

A temper tantrum? Grace shook her head. He didn’t know her as well as she’d thought. “I had my last temper tantrum when I was three years old and my mother forbade me from wearing my worn denim overalls to a casting call.”

“All right, maybe I wasn’t really expecting a temper tantrum, but
some
kind of reaction. At first I thought you were acting, because that’s what you do when you’re hurting. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else going on. When I read that shit about you and Jill, I thought maybe that’s why…”

Grace sighed. “It had nothing to do with Jill or any other person, man or woman.”

“Then what else is going on?”

She hesitated.

“Come on, Grace. Help me understand.”

“I guess I just…” She studied the wood pattern of the table, not wanting to look at him and see the hurt in his eyes. “I fell out of love with you somewhere along the way.”

For several seconds, the chirping of the crickets was the only sound on the patio.

“When?” Nick asked, his voice hoarse.

“I don’t know.”

“When?” he repeated more forcefully. “When did you realize you don’t love me anymore?”

Grace kept her gaze on the table. “I do love you,” she said softly. “I’m just not in love with you anymore.”

“Semantics,” he grumbled. “When did you realize?”

She knew he wouldn’t back down until he got an answer. Biting her lip, she peered up at him. “I’m not sure. Maybe when I was shooting in New Zealand.” They’d spent nearly five months apart, and it had dawned on her that she didn’t miss him as fiercely as she should. While some of her cast mates spent almost every available moment on the phone, calling their loved ones at home, she had taken trips and tried to see as much as possible of the beautiful country.

His chair scraped over the stone patio as he shoved it away from the table—and from her. “But…but that was two years ago!”

Grace said nothing.

“That was before we got married!” He jumped up and paced around the table.

The glass door slid open, and Lauren stuck her head out. “Everything okay out here?”

“Yes,” Grace said. “Nick was just about to sit back down.”

He glared at her and at Lauren but then sat. “I’m sitting, see?” He lifted both of his hands as if showing Lauren that he was unarmed.

Without another word, Lauren closed the sliding door and returned to the couch.

Nick stared at her retreating back. “Jeez! For someone who’s just your publicist, she’s damn protective of you.”

Grace groaned.
Not that again.
“Nick…”

“Okay, okay.” He swiveled on his chair and studied her across the table. “Why did you marry me if you weren’t in love with me?” His voice was calm now, almost defeated.

“I didn’t know,” Grace whispered, her head lowered. She glanced over at him. “I thought that’s how people felt after being together for a while. I never meant to hurt you.”

He didn’t answer, instead turning away from her to gaze out over the canyon. “Guess it doesn’t matter anymore.”

Grace saw right through his stoic action star routine. “Now who’s acting?”

He turned and glared at her, but one corner of his mouth soon curved up into a hint of a smile. “Dammit. You know me too well.” He eyed the sliding door. “Think I can get up and leave without your guard dog trying to bite my ankle?”

“She’s my—”

“Yeah, yeah, your publicist, I know.” He rose and walked to the door, this time without a hug, their customary good-bye. “Be careful, okay? There was a horde of paparazzi hanging around the villa when I was there, looking for you.”

“I know. That’s why I’m staying at the cottage. Are you sure no one followed you here?”

“One hundred percent sure. I’m Special Agent Ray Harper, remember?”

“You play him on TV,” Grace said.

He shrugged. “Still. I learned enough from him to trick the paparazzi.” He tipped an imaginary hat, slid the door open, and stepped inside.

“Nick?” Grace called.

He turned back around.

Grace nibbled her lip and hesitated, knowing that she would sound like a cold-hearted, career-driven bitch, but this needed to be said. “Even after Jill and I make a public statement tomorrow, the media will probably still keep an eye on us. It’s more important than ever for us to appear happily married. Do you think you can pull that off after…everything?”