The Fiance Thief (22 page)
“I just wanted to say. Um, Claire…I, uh, just came to tell you guys hey.”
“Guess what, Claire?” Miranda finally had her voice again. “Scott says hey.”
“How sweet,” Claire said, pulling Alec down beside her once again.
Frightened, no doubt, by the murderous look on Miranda’s face, Scott began backing away from them. A familiar hand shot out of the crowd and held him still, the well-cared for pink nails pinning him in place.
“Claire,” Lissa said, emerging from behind Scott. “Don’t be mad at Scott. He just wanted to tie up some loose ends with you two, and he thought this would be the best place to do it. He’s impetuous, you know.”
Claire had to hide her grin. “I don’t think I knew that about Scott.”
Lissa greeted Alec, then extended a hand to Miranda, “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Lissa Barnard, the society editor for the
Tribune.”
Miranda grudgingly accepted the handshake, then turned to Claire. “Did you bring the whole staff here or what?”
“No,” Claire said, but then heard a noisy argument traveling down the hall toward them. She thought the voices belonged to Hank and Mick. Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw the men enter the room, followed by Allie and an unfamiliar middle-aged woman.
“At least the production and business people aren’t here,” she told Miranda. “That’s a real unstable bunch.”
The security guard was close behind them. “They say
they
had some emergency at the paper, and they’ve all got to be here to see somebody named Claire and Alec.”
Alec stood and turned to Lissa. “Is that how you got in, too?”
Lissa pointed to the tear in her blouse. “We got in the old-fashioned way.”
“Ms. Craig, I don’t know what to think,” the guard told Miranda.
She sighed. “Let them stay.”
“But I don’t think they had the proper authorization to get in here.”
Miranda put her forehead in her hands. “Let them stay. Chris, honey, will you and Larry go round up all the liquor in the house and bring it up here?”
“What’s that line from one of those plays you loved?” Claire asked Miranda, knowing she would know what she was talking about.
She smiled. “I’m just having a real bad day,” she quoted. She leaned toward Claire and whispered, “I owe you one.”
“Forget it,” Claire said.
She felt Alec’s hand squeeze hers just as she heard Mick’s booming voice.
“I think we’d better go hunt for some food,” Lissa said, grabbing Scott and slipping into the crowd.
“Don’t think I’m not going to ask you where my boat is,” Mick called after her. He introduced his ex-wife to Claire and Alec, and Claire introduced the two of them to Miranda.
“Did you have trouble finding the place?” Miranda asked politely.
“Oh, no,” Mick said. “Claire’s friend Allie found it with no trouble at all.”
“I’ll bet,” Miranda said, as they all looked over to where Allie was drinking wine with Chris and Roger in the corner.
“What was the emergency on the paper?” Claire asked.
“Somehow,” Mick said, blushing, “all the stories got thrown away.”
Claire and Alec gasped as Mick said. “Hank fixed it, though. He recreated Alec’s and Lissa’s stories, and Allie dropped off some of Claire’s.”
Claire looked at Mick, confused. “But if Hank fixed it, why did you all rush out here?”
“Because Scott and Lissa stole my boat,” Mick said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“What?”
Alec bent down to kiss Claire. “I don’t understand it, either. Let’s agree to figure it out together later.”
As she and Alec concluded their kiss, Claire noticed that Miranda was still standing near them, out of the limelight. Claire started to say something to cheer her, but was interrupted by the appearance of Hank. She presented Miranda to Hank, then was as shocked as everyone else apparently was to hear him say to Miranda, “I love your work.”
“You do?” Claire felt a teeny stab of guilt when she heard the doubt in Miranda’s voice. Surely she hadn’t sapped Miranda of her self-esteem forever.
“I really love your part in
Sundays at the Park.
It isn’t everyone who can bring that kind of depth to the small role of teen-aged babysitter.”
“But you think I did?” Her voice was hopeful.
“Oh, absolutely,” he said. “Tell me something I’ve always wanted to know. In the Rand Walsh art movie
Mystery Generation,
are you the voice of the ex-girlfriend who keeps calling the hero?”
Claire hit herself on the head. “How could I not have known that? I knew that voice was familiar.”
Miranda was visibly excited over Hank’s discovery. “No one has ever figured that out.”
“That voice steals the movie,” Hank said. “Why isn’t it listed on your résumé?”
Miranda looked a bit downcast. “They didn’t list me in the credits because it was such a nonpart, Walsh thought, and I was a nobody. Now he doesn’t want to admit that somebody as mainstream as I am was in one of his movies.”
Hank shook his head. “He’s only shooting himself in the foot with that kind of reverse snobbism.”
“Since when do you know about movies?” Alec asked.
Hank kept talking to Miranda. “I think you have the kind of crossover appeal that could bring mainstream audiences to smaller films. I think you especially have a gift for making what may seem to be a small character larger than life. Although I’m sure it will be an excellent movie,
A Woman’s Heart
is just that kind of saintly-woman-ofthe-South stuff you keep getting handed.”
By this time, everyone in the room was openly listening to Hank and Miranda.
“Oh, I know,” Miranda said. “I wish someone would give me a script where I played a real person. A working girl, you know, but a funny one. But I don’t want there to only be comedy in the script.”
“I have a script just like that,” Hank said. “One that I wrote especially with you in mind.”
As those who knew Hank stood there in stunned silence, Miranda put her hands on her hips, now openly flirting with him. “Do you know how many guys say that to me?”
Hank drew a computer diskette out of his pocket. “But how many of them actually have great scripts? Can we use your computer, Alec?”
“Be my guest.”
As the two of them walked off, Mick turned to Claire and Alec and said, “Looks like you two are getting pretty serious about this phony engagement thing.”
Miranda stopped and turned around. “Phony engagement?”
Alec waved a hand at her. “Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.”
Claire turned to Alec. “Sweetheart, you made a Wizard
of Oz
reference. Now I know you love me.”
Mick and his ex-wife wandered discreetly away. As Claire and Alec started to kiss, they were interrupted by an
annoyed Chris. “What about the scoop you were going to reveal?”
“False lead,” she said. At his irritated glance, she told him, “But I’ve got something better. Why don’t you phone the tabloid editor and tell him that the script Miranda is looking at is going to be her hottest movie yet? Everyone is going to be talking about Hank Jensen.”
“Do you really think so?” Chris asked, scurrying away.
“Alone at last,” Claire said, snuggling up to Alec in the crowded room.
“Never alone again,” Alec answered her. “Not when we have each other.
They kissed again as Claire heard Lissa say, “Mick, did I ever tell you about my little sister? She’d love to be a society reporter.”
Claire and Alec broke off their kiss and smiled at each other. “I forgot to tell you. The psychic also said I was going to have four children and many more grandchildren. Won’t this be something to tell them about?”
She looked around the room, where Allie and Roger were laughing in the corner, Renee, Christine and Larry were sharing a bottle of bourbon, Mick and his ex-wife had their arms around each other and Scott was holding hands with Lissa.
“You’d better grab Christine’s video recorder,” Claire told Alec. “Otherwise, I don’t think they’re going to be lieve it.”
From the
Tribune…
Morgan-Mason Wedding Bells Chime
by Krista Barnard
Claire Morgan, senior editor of this paper, whose story on toxic dumping in South Ridgeville sparked several criminal and civil investigations and indictments, was wed October 7 to Alec Mason, Tribune co-owner and editor in chief. Nuptials were held at the historic Ramsey-Ivy house. The bride’s parents were in from Florida for the occasion, and the groom’s extended family filled out the crowd.
The bride wore a vintage wedding suit from the 1930s, and her bridesmaid, Allie Reilly of Ridgeville, wore a 1920s flapper dress. Mick Regan, who recently sold part ownership of the paper to Mr. Mason as part of the settlement of libel suits stemming from two of the
Tribune’s
stories was the best man.
Among those in attendance were Peggy Regan, former wife of Mr. Regan. Also wishing the bride and groom well were Lissa Barnard, formerly of this newspaper, and her fiancé, Scott Granville, author of the instant bestselling paperback
Bitter Laughter: My Years with Miranda.
Hank Jensen, currently on sabbatical from this paper, sent his regrets from New York City, as did Miranda Craig.
After a brief honeymoon, the couple will reside at the
bride’s family home in Ridgeville.
The food was cocatered by Bubba’s, this year’s winner of the Fourth Annual Roast it Right Barbecue Cook-off, and the vegetarian caterers Earth’s Bounty. The guests agreed the food was tasty.
The bride was radiant.
eISBN 978-14592-7422-8
THE FIANCÉ THIEF
Copyright © 1997 by Tracy Jones
All rights reserved. Except for use In any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher. Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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