"Now you're lying to yourself."
"Don't presume to tell me how I feel. You've already presumed, and assumed, way too much about me. But I'll give you this much--the mistake was mine and it was a big one. I don't belong with you. Your lifestyle isn't one I can live with, so I'd appreciate if you'd stay the hell away from me."
His lips were set in a tight line. Now he was angry. Oh, that was funny, considering he had nothing to lose and she was about to lose everything. Before she really caused a scene, she walked out of the barn, determined not to think about all of this until later. Right now the foundation needed her to be strong, and the foundation was all that mattered.
She'd promised her father she'd take care of it. Dammit!
Too bad she hadn't been thinking about the foundation when she decided to take Del up on his offer of fun and games. She'd made a vow to run the foundation the same way he always had, keeping its reputation clean and above reproach.
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She'd failed. The one and only thing her father had counted on her for, and she couldn't live up to his expectations. Because she'd fallen in love with the wrong man, and because of that had made all the wrong decisions.
Her heart tore in two. On one side stood her father and the foundation, what they stood for, everything the Bartolino family had always been. On the other side stood Del; the excitement and warmth she'd grown to love experiencing from him. How could she walk away from him, from everything he'd shown her? He'd given her a new life, a chance to become the woman she'd always known she could be. If only she'd been a little more cautious...
Water under the bridge. She hadn't been careful enough. Now she had to live with the consequences. Tears came again, and she blinked them back, wanting to slide down against the barn wall and sob. God, she was miserable, missed Del already. Why couldn't she just fall apart, why couldn't she have let him help her?
Because she realized no one could help her. Not even Del. Distance was the best way. Apart, they could both weather this through. Together it would be a nightmare.
She put on her sunglasses and plastered on a smile as a couple of the committee members headed her way.
She'd fall apart when she got home.
"What crawled up your ass today?"
Del snapped his gaze toward Ali, who leaned casually against the doorway to his office. "Nothing. I'm working out a problem."
"What kind of problem?"
He inhaled, blew it out, then said, "Shut the door."
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Ali stepped in and Del filled him in on the happenings at today's horse show. By the time he was finished, Ali's expression was grave.
"That is very bad news, my friend," Ali said. "What can you do about it?"
"Not sure. But I can't let those photographs come out tomorrow.
Janine will be ruined."
Ali leaned back in the chair. "Will she be recognized from the photographs?"
Del shrugged. "Not sure."
"What about you?"
"I don't care about me, you know that. Hell, it would be great press for the club. But I can't let this happen to Janine. It's my fault." Fuck.
Sometimes he took too many chances. He shouldn't have done it, shouldn't have put Janine in that position.
Sometimes he really was a dick.
Ali arched a brow. "You never cared about a woman's reputation before. You've always made it clear that what you do with a woman is consensual, and if you're caught in public that's just the way it is."
"I've never cared--" He stopped himself before he completed the sentence, but the words had already tumbled out.
"You love her."
"Shit." With a sigh, Del nodded. "Yeah, I guess I do."
"Why?"
"Why?" He'd never thought about why before. Hell, he'd never realized he loved her until just this moment. "Because she's beautiful, intelligent, capable, she runs a successful corporation and loves giving to the less fortunate, she's sexy as hell and I think she's fearless. Though she doesn't realize that last part yet."
Ali grinned. "You sing her praises well. Can I say 'I told you so' now?"
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"Help me solve this problem and you can say it every day for the rest of our lives."
"That's an offer I don't wish to refuse. The first thing you need to determine is if the photographer has pictures of your faces."
Del thought for a moment, trying to remember the moment when the flashes of light went off. Hell, that was kind of hard to do considering he'd just had an orgasm, was spent and panting, his face buried in Janine's neck.
He sat up, wracking his brain, remembering positioning. "No, he didn't. My face was in Janine's neck, and her face was buried on my shoulder. No way did he get our faces in those shots he took."
"That's very good. So the only thing he has is your bodies entangled.
But no proof as to who you are. You can deny it."
Del wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, we could, but not my preference. I'd rather do something else."
"Such as?"
He thought about it for a few minutes, then remembered who had been at the charity horse race today. But would she go for it? As much as she loved publicity, it would still be a huge risk.
Of course she would. He grinned and looked at Ali. "I have a great idea."
He picked up the phone.
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Chapter Eight
Janine didn't want to open her drapes, afraid to see the first rays of dawn seeping through, signaling the end of life as she knew it.
"Dramatic much, Janine?" She rolled her eyes, stood and moved to the coffeemaker, refilling her empty cup. She'd tried to sleep, but hadn't managed more than tossing from one side of the bed to the other. Quiet crying, wishing Del was there with her, which only made her feel more miserable and led to even more insomnia. Anxiety had won and she'd finally crawled out of bed at three in the morning to make coffee. Pacing while standing seemed much more effective.
After the horse race ended yesterday, she'd met with her staff, debriefed, then told her assistant something urgent had come up and she would need to reschedule all her appointments for the following day.
Not that anyone would want to meet with her after the pictures appeared in the newspaper, anyway, but she figured she might as well do it in advance and save herself at least a little humiliation.
She glanced up at the clock. Six a.m. The newspaper would be arriving shortly. With a heavy sigh, she trudged upstairs and into the bathroom, took a shower, then did her hair and makeup and walked into her closet to choose an appropriate outfit. Reporters would show up soon enough and she wanted to be presentable when they did. She dressed in a pair of black slacks and a cream sleeveless top, hoping to look respectable.
Respectable. Ha. That term would never be associated with her again.
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Why had she taken Del up on his offer in the first place? She'd lived thirty years of her life without ever living out her fantasies, and in the space of a few weeks had completely deviated. As she put on her earrings, she looked at herself in the mirror, remembering every intimate detail of what she and Del had shared.
Warm pleasure mixed with mortification. Her heart wrapped around thoughts of Del even as her mind tainted everything they'd done. No matter what her heart wanted, she should have never besmirched the family name with her sick, perverted fantasies.
Visuals of everything she and Del had shared together entered her mind. The night of the charity ball, then outside in his SUV. At the restaurant, at Sneak Peek, so many others. Even just times they shared alone. Every single episode played through her head like a movie, each scene vivid and evoking heated passion and playful fun. What was
wrong with a little harmless sex? Had they hurt anyone doing what they did?
What they'd shared was between the two of them and no one else, meant for their pleasure alone.
She crossed her arms, then shook her head, frowning at her reflection. No. Her fantasies weren't sick and perverted. She was normal.
She'd had feelings for Del. And dammit, he'd had feelings for her, too.
Their relationship had been leading somewhere beyond just fun exhibitionism and voyeurism.
Hadn't it? Or had she conjured all that up in her own head? Del had made her no promises other than wild and crazy sex. Had she read more into their relationship? Had she foolishly fallen in love with him, and her feelings hadn't been reciprocated?
What did it matter anyway? It was over. She'd made it clear to him yesterday in the barn. God, had she made it clear. She blinked back 100
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tears remembering that conversation, at the way she'd treated him as if this had been all his fault.
She missed him, wished she could talk to him right now.
Yeah, she wasn't conflicted much. She'd pushed him away and now she wanted him back. He was probably glad to be rid of her. And it was probably for the best, anyway. They were ill-matched, had been from the beginning. Great chemistry did not make a forever match.
So why did she feel so damn miserable? Disgusted with herself, she turned away from the mirror and slipped on her watch and a bracelet. No other adornment. Keep it simple. Then she walked downstairs, thoughts pummeling her head nonstop.
Her father would never have forgiven her. Thank God he wasn't alive to see what was going to happen to the foundation. She'd resign, of course, and turn over the reins to her vice chairman. She didn't look forward to having that meeting with the board of directors, having to explain her actions. Nausea rose, but she fought it down.
The foundation would be in good hands, would continue to run smoothly. They would weather this scandal, with her stepping down as soon as possible.
She fought back tears, tired of crying, refusing to feel sorry for herself anymore. She looked down at her watch.
Six thirty. The newspaper was probably at the front door. Her stomach clenched in an agonizing knot, but she had never been the type to avoid the inevitable. She strolled to the door and opened it, afraid reporters would already be amassed and ready to snap her picture, bombard her with questions.
No one was there yet to snap her picture. But the newspaper awaited her, glaring up at her with a sickening finality. She swallowed, bent down and retrieved it, then shut and locked the door, turning around and www.samhainpublishing.com 101
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leaning against it. She took a minute to calm her raging heartbeat, catch her breath, then opened the paper, discarding everything with the exception of the section containing the society pages. With ruthless intent she flipped open the pages, sliding down the door to sit on the floor. Her legs shook so much she couldn't stand any longer.
She spread the pages open, her gaze scanning every picture. There was the charity horse race with corresponding photographs. She felt dizzy, her breaths coming in too fast now. Hyperventilating was a really bad idea, so she mentally slowed down each breath. Panic wasn't going to help her anyway, couldn't avoid the inevitable.
She looked. Looked again. Read the article. Nothing about her and Del. Only the work of the foundation, the success of the charity horse race, how much money had been raised and pictures of a few of the celebrities in attendance.
That was it.
That was it?
What the hell? She dropped the paper and stared straight ahead, not understanding.
Where were the pictures of her and Del? The photographer had taken them and run. He had to want to use them for--
Then it hit her. Of course. Dread made her stomach feel as if lead had been dropped in there. He hadn't sold the photographs to the main newspaper. He'd sold them to the tabloids.
Oh, God.
She managed to stand, her legs even shakier than before, kicked the newspapers out of the way and hurried into the kitchen, grabbing her keys.
She had to know, had to see them.
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This was going to be oh so much worse. The society page in the newspaper was bad enough, but to be in the tabloids? It was so sordid.
Clutching her stomach, she went to the garage, hit the button to lift the door and started her car, hurrying down the driveway. Okay, where to find them? Her brain wasn't working! She had to think. She didn't buy the damn things, where were they?
Tabloids would be on sale at the grocery store down the road. She remembered seeing them there. The new weekly issues should be there this morning. Would it even be there? Of course it would. This was news, scandal even. Panic striken, she drove the short distance and parked, tossed on her sunglasses and sauntered into the store, zooming into the magazine aisle.
There were at least seven tabloids there. All she did was glance at the titles of the magazines. She didn't even look at them, just grabbed one copy of each and went to the express checkout lane, hoping her face wasn't plastered across the front page of any of them. She purposely kept her head down and paid cash. After she checked out, she went to her car and pulled them all out of the bag, scanning the covers.
There, in one of the sleazy, best-selling rags, was her picture. It was grainy and dark, but was her and Del, embracing in the barn. She recognized the skirt she'd worn yesterday.
The headline was slapped across the top in bright black letters:
"Candy Arroyo Does It Again! Hot Encounter With Her Latest Squeeze At Charity Horse Show!"
What? Candy Arroyo? The actress? Janine squinted, looked at the picture again. The woman's face was turned toward the camera, a look of utter ecstasy on her face.
It was Candy Arroyo! That picture wasn't her and Del at all, now that she looked closer at it. She flipped through the magazine until she found www.samhainpublishing.com 103
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the spread. More pictures. Of Candy, and her latest boyfriend. Both dressed very similarly to what she and Del had worn yesterday. So the pictures of Del and her could even be included in this spread, though she didn't think so. Had someone else scooped the photographer who'd taken the photos of her and Del with even clearer pictures showing Candy's face?
Shock made goose bumps stand up on her skin. Then a giddy, melty feeling warmed her all over, followed by a huge kick of regret as she realized what had been done on her behalf.
She so didn't deserve this.
Dear God. This whole thing had been a setup. To shove the photos of Del and her out of the limelight.
And she knew who'd done it.
Trust me.
Del had asked her to. And she hadn't.
Now she really did feel sick. Tears welled and spilled down her cheeks. She gripped the steering wheel, wanting to break down and sob.
You idiot. She slapped at the steering wheel, welcoming the sharp pain in her hands. She'd been so set on doing this on her own, to play the martyr and take her punishment instead of working with Del on a solution.
He'd solved the problem without her. He'd fixed it, just as he said he would. And she'd walked away from him. After insulting him, of course.
She didn't deserve a second chance with him, wouldn't blame him if he refused to talk to her.
But she was damn sure going to his house right now and beg his forgiveness.
He'd just saved her ass, her career, her company, even after all she'd said to him. But why? Why would he have done that for her, when he 104
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could have just walked away, blown her off as a rich bitch princess who couldn't handle the pressure?
She started the car and drove, swiping away the tears.
It was time for he
r to grow up, to stop worrying what everyone else thought, or might think. She'd been having a wonderful time with Del, until she'd ruined it. No one else had turned this into a disaster, had put a wedge between them.
She had.
Heart in her throat, she pulled into his driveway and shut off the engine, pocketed her keys and walked up to his front door. God, she hoped he was home. And that he was alone. She rang the doorbell, feeling dizzy and sick to her stomach, praying that he would at least give her a chance to apologize before slamming the door in her face.
He answered the door wearing shorts, no shirt, his hair a mess, a day's growth of beard on his face. He leaned against the doorway, obviously waiting for her to speak.
"Good morning."
"Mornin'," he said, his face giving nothing away. No emotion, no sense of whether he was happy to see her, or unhappy she'd showed up at his door.
Nothing. She, who had given speeches in front of thousands, couldn't find the words to apologize to the man she loved.
Say something, moron! "Can I come in?"
He tilted his head. "You didn't bring breakfast with you."
At least he was speaking to her, hadn't shut the door in her face.
"Sorry. It was an impulse drive."
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know what to say to him. She turned as soon as he shut the door. "I'm an ass."
He arched a brow. "You are?"
"Yes, and you know it. I'm so sorry."
His lips curled upward in a hint of a smile. "I take it you've seen the tabloids."
She nodded. "I should have trusted you."
He led her into his living room. "Yeah, you should have. I told you I'd take care of it."
"I know. I was in shock. I didn't think there was any way out." She slid onto the couch. "It's not a valid excuse. I'm so sorry, Del. I treated you so badly yesterday."
He shrugged. "Don't worry about it."
"Don't make excuses for me. I behaved like a shrew. And I should have believed you."
He sat next to her. Close to her. Then he picked up a strand of her hair, letting it slide through his fingers. She loved when he did that. It was so...possessive. Her heart began to race again, only this time the adrenaline rush wasn't from anxiety.
"I'd never leave you to face something like this alone, Janine. When we have sex together, we face the repercussions together."