Waking Up to You Overexposed

chapter 11



OLIVER HAD TAKEN pity on her and given her thirty minutes to get dressed rather than fifteen. Other than that, though, he kept his word, giving her more orgasms in an hour and a half than she’d thought humanly possible. As they rode the elevator down to the ballroom where this evening’s event was being held, Candace had to shift back and forth on her feet, incredibly aware of how tender and well used she felt.

He apparently noticed. Stepping close, he slid an arm around her waist and ducked his head toward hers. “Are you okay?”

“Perfect,” she whispered back, conscious of the other people on the elevator, another couple—middle-aged and well dressed—and a duo who looked like a mother and daughter. Neither of whom could take their eyes off Oliver, who did things to a tux that James Bond would envy.

Good heavens, the man was handsome. Not just hot and sexy, but so amazingly handsome he turned heads—male and female. Tonight she thought he could outshine Tommy, routinely called one of the top ten sexiest men in the world.

Tommy.

Hell.

She hadn’t thought much about him today. Nor had she answered when he’d tried calling a little while ago. She’d been busy, using all of her thirty minutes to clean up, fix her hair and makeup and get dressed. She would call him tomorrow, once she’d willed herself to pack up and head home. Tonight, she didn’t want to think about anyone or anything but Oliver.

When they reached the ballroom, Oliver removed two tickets from his breast pocket and handed them to the person at the door. The minute they walked in, a congenial older gentleman with a barrel chest and very little hair walked over and greeted them. When he heard who she was, he enquired after her grandfather.

“I heard he was laid up—some kind of accident?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so. But he’s recovering nicely. He’s supposed to come home from the hospital tomorrow.”

The man nodded absently, then moved on to what she suspected was his real topic of conversation. “Say, I’ve been hearing some stories. Something about a fabulous secret collection of antique vintages?”

The Northern California wine community was a small one. She was not at all surprised rumors were already being bandied around. Considering these growers and vintners were also wine drinkers, she would bet most of them would be attending the auction once it was set and advertised.

But not wanting to reveal too much, she merely shrugged and pasted on a vapid smile. “I don’t know about that. Actually, I’m afraid I don’t know anything about wine at all,” she said, forcing a giggle. “Just that I like to drink it!”

“Oh, yes, of course.” He patted her hand, condescension dripping from him, and wished her a nice evening.

As they walked away, she heard Oliver’s deep chuckle. “Well played.”

“Hey, no point in getting the vultures circling until Grandpa gets home and decides what he wants to do. If word spreads too much, we’re going to have to start locking the door to the house.”

“Buddy would never stand for that.”

As they walked across the already-crowded room, Candace looked around, noting the decorations. Vines that looked quite real climbed and wove around some freestanding arbors, while beneath couples danced and chatted. The softly lit chandeliers cast a gentle glow over the well-dressed attendees, and laughter and wine were in abundance.

Oliver smiled pleasantly at several people who said hello. Although he wasn’t technically one of them, he’d apparently met and impressed Buddy’s colleagues and neighbors. In fact, one of them, a beautifully gowned, attractive woman in her fifties, approached them before they got halfway across the room.

She leaned in close to Oliver, not looking like the typical partygoer interested in exchanging gossip and feigning ennui. “You’re Mr. McKean, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry, have we met?”

“I’m Doris Gladstone.” She stuck out her hand. “I work with Ben Harmon.”

He dropped her hand. “Oh.”

“Hear me out.”

“I’d rather not.”

This was getting more and more interesting. Oliver obviously knew who this Ben Harmon was, and didn’t want to talk to his associate.

Candace stepped the tiniest bit closer, wishing the nearby string quartet would quiet down so she could eavesdrop more easily.

“Look, I know the whole story,” the woman said. “Everybody knows. You might have made some enemies in the southern part of this state, but I promise you, everywhere else, people are well aware that you did the right thing and got royally screwed for it.”

The truth dawned. Oliver hadn’t said anything about his past following him up here. But it obviously had. Hearing the way the woman was speaking, it wasn’t hard to gauge her respect for him, nor her interest in engaging him in shoptalk. Since Oliver almost never talked about his old life, she found herself intensely curious, wondering what he’d been like in that other world. Had he been as sexy, as thoughtful, as sweet? Had he exhibited flashes of that sardonic wit? Had he been a wildly erotic lover to lots of women?

She swallowed, not wanting to consider that. Knowing how fast-paced life in Los Angeles could be, and how shallow some of the wealthy set was, she had to wonder if he’d ever been the flavor of the week for some socialite who’d heard about the rising hotshot of the D.A.’s office.

“Ben is still dying for you to come in and talk to us. It’s a small practice, with just the office in Napa, but we’re both horribly overworked and we think you’d be a great fit.”

Tension poured off him, and his hand tightened on Candace’s waist. She imagined he didn’t even realize it.

“I don’t do that anymore.”

“You don’t prosecute,” the older woman said. “But come on, you wouldn’t have made it in the L.A. district attorney’s office for four years, much less with a nearly perfect conviction record, if criminal law wasn’t in your blood.”

His jaw was growing stiffer, his hand tighter, and Candace feared this Doris Gladstone person was pushing too hard. She wanted Oliver to think about what the woman was saying, but, like most men, he wouldn’t want to be forced into it.

She caught the other woman’s eye and narrowed her eyes, warning her off with a small, negative shake of the head.

The attractive blonde got the message. Smiling brightly, she said, “Well, anyway, I won’t bother you and your lovely friend. I just wanted to reiterate what Ben told you. We’d love to talk to you.” Ignoring his silence, she reached into her purse and drew out a business card. She held it out and for a moment, Oliver just stared at it. When Candace nudged him, though, and he realized how rude he was being, he took it and dropped it into his side pocket.

“Guess I should get back to my husband. We have a small place. He produced a thousand bottles last year and now thinks he’s ready to go up against Mondavi.”

Smiling pleasantly, she walked away. A few other people stood nearby, all engaged in loud conversation, but Candace kept her voice down anyway.

“They want you to come work with them?”

“It’s been mentioned.”

“But you declined?”

“Her partner didn’t offer me a job or anything. Just asked me to lunch one day and broached the subject.”

“You’re not even tempted?”

He swiped a hand through his thick, dark hair and shook his head. “I don’t know, honestly. I just don’t want to think about it tonight.”

“Understood,” she said, meaning it. The subject was closed for now, and she would respect his wishes by dropping it.

Smiling his thanks, he turned toward a corner. “How about a drink? Red, white or an appallingly sweet combination of the two?”

“Let’s go with red, and see if anything measures up to that bottle we shared from Grandpa’s cellar.”

He twined his fingers with hers and squeezed, obviously appreciating that she’d let the subject change. Oliver had come up here to think about what he wanted to do with his life, including whether that life included a career in law. For four months, he’d buried himself in hard work and had allowed himself to believe he had no supporters, nowhere else to turn. So seeing that wasn’t true was probably good for him. An occasional nudge was probably in order. But any more than that was out of line. He would have to decide for himself what his future should be.

Whatever it is, it won’t include you.

She had to forcibly control a wince of sadness that thought caused. She’d done a pretty good job of avoiding reality all day, well, for the past several days. But now that it was bearing down on her, each tick of the clock bringing her closer to the moment when she would have to say goodbye, the pain within her was sharpening.

Tomorrow is soon enough. You’ve got tonight. Make it a night worth remembering.

Forcing a smile to her lips, determined not to let him see her sadness and question it, she let him lead her to the nearest bar. There were several set up in the room, each offering glasses of the various vintages being feted tonight. They let themselves be drawn into a brief tasting, and Candace managed to hide another wince, this one caused by some pretty crappy wine. Fortunately, another bar had much better offerings, and she accepted a full pour.

Carrying their glasses, they worked their way around the room, meeting many people who knew her grandfather, or at least had heard of him. Almost all of them brought up the subject of the rare collection Buddy Frye had reportedly found, and she changed that subject every single time.

“Good grief, these people are like bloodhounds,” she said after she and Oliver ducked another busybody, who’d actually followed them across the dance floor, weaving between swaying couples. They’d evaded him by slipping into a private corner beneath a cozy arbor, a tiny oasis in the crowded ballroom.

“Want to dance?” he whispered.

She didn’t want to go back out into the crowd. But apparently that hadn’t been his intention. Before she could assent, he slid an arm around her waist and caught her hand, drawing her close to his body. They began to sway to the music, moving in a small circle within the arbor, oblivious to the other people who wandered in and out.

She didn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t that he could dance, or that she would be so swept away by the music that she almost forgot where they were. Though surrounded by hundreds, she felt like they were entirely alone, swaying to the soft strains coming from the talented musicians, and to the gentle gurgle of water from a nearby fountain. He bent his head close to hers, brushing his lips against her temple, breathing her in, holding her as if he would never let her go.

Oh, God, she wished he didn’t have to.

The moment was so beautiful, and the thought so distressing, that she suddenly felt tears well in her eyes. “Will you excuse me?” she said, abruptly stepping out of his arms. “I need to visit the ladies’ room.”

He raised a curious brow, his expression skeptical, but she smiled broadly and spun around, hurrying away from him before he could offer to escort her. Smiling at a few people who offered friendly greetings, she didn’t pause but moved through the ballroom as quickly as she could, practically bursting out of it into the hotel corridor. She sniffed a couple of times and wiped away her tears with the tips of her fingers, looking around frantically for the nearest facilities.

She’d just spied a restroom across the hall and a few doors up when she heard something that made her freeze in utter shock.

“There she is! My gorgeous bride-to-be. Hey, honey, are you surprised?”

The walls seemed to spin around her as she slowly turned on her heel, knowing that voice, hearing the words, but not really able to process anything.

“Tommy?” she whispered, seeing her friend approaching from the main lobby.

He was here? Not just in San Francisco, but in this very hotel? More importantly—he was claiming her as his fiancée? Now, in public, when the man she loved was waiting for her in the next room?

Immobilized by shock, she watched him approach, seeing the familiar grin, the bright blond hair, the dazzling blue eyes glued to her face. As he drew closer, she noted a tiny frown appear between those eyes. Tommy always recognized her moods and realized she was not exactly overjoyed to see him.

Nor was she thrilled about who was following him.

A person holding a microphone. Another holding a very large camera.

No. Oh, please no.

But she knew it was true. He’d brought a camera crew here to “surprise” her. He’d gone public with their engagement.

“Didn’t I tell you she was gorgeous?” Tommy said as he slipped his arms around her waist and lowered his mouth to hers for a friendly kiss. Thank God he didn’t try to make it a passionate one or she might have instinctively shoved him away.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“Crisis mode, babe,” he said under his breath. Then he raised his voice, wanting others to overhear. “I’m surprising you because I’ve missed you so damn much. I couldn’t stay in L.A. one more day without you.”

Her smile pasted on, she managed to bite out a few words in a low, angry voice. “I’m going to kill you.”

His arm tightened around her waist as he leaned close, as if nuzzling her neck. “Hell’s breaking loose, babe. When I ran into these media types in the lobby—they’re here covering this event, I guess—I figured the time was right to let the world know our happy news.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t warn me.”

“I’ve been trying to call you for hours!”

She couldn’t argue that, realizing she’d turned her phone off, not wanting any interruptions to spoil their special night.

Glancing over his shoulder at their growing audience, Tommy went on, his voice a little louder, intentionally so. “You left town so quickly to come to your grandfather’s hospital bed that I hadn’t even had time to make our engagement official.”

With that, he reached into his pocket and drew out a ring with the most enormous, gaudy, ostentatious diamond she had ever seen. On either side of it were rows of tiny rubies—her birthstone.

Tommy must have seen her grimace because he chuckled. “Figured we might as well go all out with it.”

Her brain wasn’t functioning, and she couldn’t figure out what to say. Her hand lay limply in his as he lifted it and slid the ten-pound rock onto her ring finger.

“There, now you’re fully dressed,” he said, leaning down to rub noses with her.

She clenched her fists in his leather jacket—no black tie for the sexy movie star—and whispered, “Get me out of here. Now, Tommy, I mean it.”

“Five minutes. Then we split.”

But, she suddenly realized, she didn’t even have five minutes. Because word of the superstar’s arrival had apparently spread, and people were coming from all over the hotel to gawk at them. Sure, San Francisco had its share of celebrities, but Tommy was the “it” guy of Hollywood right now, having starred in two blockbusters in the past eighteen months. Directors courted him, women threw panties at him, men clapped him on the shoulder. Of course people would come and stare. Including a few from the ballroom.

Panic rose within her. She had to get out of here, had to escape and find a quiet place to sit down and figure out how to handle this nightmare. What on earth was she going to say to Oliver? Yes, of course he would someday find out she was marrying Tommy. But oh, God, she did not want it to be like this. Not tonight, on what had been, up until a few minutes ago, one of the most magical she had ever experienced.

Suddenly, she spied a face in the shifting crowd. Her worst fears were coming true. Her heart thudded in her chest and sweat broke out on her brow. This couldn’t be happening!

But it was. As fans drew closer, asking Tommy for autographs, she saw Oliver’s face in the crowd. He stood about twenty feet away, his attention glued on her, his face expressionless. How long he’d been standing there, she had no idea. Considering Tommy was hugging her to his side like she was his prized possession, she could only imagine what he was thinking.

The worst.

“No,” she whispered.

Tommy, probably thinking she was nervous about the growing hysteria of his largely female fan riot, dropped a possessive arm over her shoulder and hugged her tightly against his side. “Hey, folks, don’t freak out my fiancée, okay? I don’t want to scare her off before I get her down the aisle.”

The words caused a stir in the hallway, and every whispering person in the hallway gaped at her, most of the women eyeing her with jealousy, the men assessing her looks.

And then there was Oliver. She watched as shock washed over him, his dark eyes widening, his mouth moving, though she couldn’t hear a word he said. Of course, she really didn’t need to. Because, as the truth of the situation hit him—at least, the truth as he saw it—he drew himself up stiffly and thrust out his jaw. His shoulders squared, his eyes cold, he nodded briefly in her direction. Then he turned and walked away, heading for the lobby and, she imagined, the exit.

“Tommy, let go,” she insisted, knowing she had to go after Oliver and try to explain.

“It’s okay, honey, we’ll get up to our room soon,” Tommy said, overplaying the part of horny lover. She would bet he’d rather be chatting up the superhot waiter who was hovering near the banquet room door.

Just as she was ready to pound on his chest and scream at him to let her go, she saw another familiar face. It was Madison. She stood in the lobby and was jumping up and down, waving her arms over her head, trying to be seen above the crowd.

Her sister. Her twin. That was just who she needed.

“I, uh, need to use the facilities,” she said to Tommy, knowing her face was red with frustration and anger. Hopefully his adoring fans would think she was blushing over the behavior of her flirtatious fiancé, or at least because she’d had to make a public issue out of needing to use the damn john.

He finally let her go, but pressed a quick kiss on her lips before she could escape. “Hurry back sweet cheeks.”

She growled at him, and for the first time since he’d arrived, he finally looked her fully in the face and realized she was absolutely furious. And positively devastated.

“Babe?”

“I’ll deal with you later,” she snapped, pushing her way through the throng, who continued to converge on Tommy, gushing over his films. Nobody paid her much attention, and she slipped away, hugging the wall, until she reached the lobby.

She didn’t see Oliver anywhere. But she did see her twin’s head as Madison ducked down another hallway. She followed her, rounding a corner as Mad disappeared into what turned out to be a ladies’ room.

Hurrying in after her, she bumped into her sister, who’d been waiting anxiously by the door.

“Oh, God, Madison!”

“I know, I know,” she said, grabbing Candace and hugging her.

“How? When...”

“I was at the center and went to the cafeteria to get Grandpa some ice cream. When I came back, he said Tommy had called, looking for you because you weren’t answering your cell. He had just landed at the airport and wanted to know where you were.”

Of course Grandpa would tell him. He’d known Tommy since they were kids and probably thought his surprise would be a wonderful one for Candace.

“As soon as he told me, I started trying to call you.”

“I forgot to turn my phone back on,” she admitted.

“Where’s Oliver? Did he...”

“Yes. He saw. He turned around and left.” She sniffed, trying to hold in a sob as she imagined how he was feeling. “He’ll probably never speak to me again.”

Madison stepped back, gripping Candace’s shoulders, looking into her face, her expression serious. “Is that for the best, do you think? I mean, if you’re going to really go through with it and marry Tommy, maybe you should just let him go.”

“No!” The very idea was abhorrent. Yes, she’d intended to leave, to remind him of their agreement, fly back to Los Angeles and move on with her life. But at no time had she envisioned him being so publicly slapped in the face with the decisions she’d made before she’d ever met him.

He deserved an apology, and as much of an explanation as she could give him. He also deserved the right to tell her off, even if she had kept the truth from him out of loyalty to her oldest friend.

She understood now, though, that her loyalties were more torn than ever. She loved Oliver. If she were free, she would want to make a life with him. She wouldn’t choose marriage to a movie star, with all the money, fame and glamour it included, over Oliver. Not a chance.

But Tommy? Her lifelong friend? The one to whom she’d given her word?

“Oh, God, Mad, what am I going to do?”

Her sister scrunched her brow, then nodded. “Take off your dress.”

Her jaw unhinged. “What?”

“Come on, hurry up. Somebody might come in.” She pushed Candace toward the stalls, shoving her inside one. “Get out of it. We’ll switch clothes. I’ll go back and play adoring fiancée while you get out of here and find Oliver.”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course I’m serious. Hell, it’ll be an adventure. I can’t stand reporters—it’ll be fun putting one over on them.”

Candace simply stared.

“I know, I know,” her sister said, waving an airy hand. “I’m a reporter. That doesn’t mean I necessarily like myself. I think I chose the wrong field.”

“Nice time to decide that, Ms. Columbia Master’s Degree.”

“You want me to change my mind?”

“Oh, hell, no!”

Thankful there was a way out of this, at least for right now, she immediately leaped on her sister’s offer. It wasn’t, after all, the first time the two of them had traded places.

“Thank you so much,” she said, yanking down her zipper and flinging the dress over the wall of the stall.

Madison, who’d shoved off her jeans and shirt, took the dress, doing a double take. “Whoa, Candy, that’s some serious underwear you’ve got on there.”

She looked down, seeing the incredibly sexy set of lingerie she’d bought especially to wear under tonight’s dress. A red bra with cutouts over her nipples, and a skimpy thong. She’d envisioned Oliver being the only one seeing her in them for the few minutes it would take to rip them off. Right now, though, she was too anxious to be embarrassed.

“Where do you think he went?” Madison asked as she yanked the dress on over her head and struggled to smooth it over her slightly larger butt.

“The keys to the rental car are in my purse,” she said, buttoning the jeans. “So he either got a cab or walked.”

“Walked, I’ll bet. Men like to go walk out their frustration over this kind of stuff. It seems like the guy thing to do.”

She had no idea whether that was true or not, but was ready to take any help she could get. She’d try walking, and was very glad she had her sister’s flat shoes in which to do it.

Yanking her hair into a ponytail and wetting a paper towel to wipe away some of the heavy makeup from her face, she shoved her purse toward Madison. “Lipstick. Eye shadow. Now.”

Her sister went to work, applying cosmetics with a heavy hand, a look that was most unusual for her. Candace took the pins she’d pulled from her own hair and used them to twist her sister’s into a quick updo, hoping nobody would notice it was a lot less intricate than Candace’s had been.

When they were finished, they stood side by side and looked in the mirror. Madison looked so close to the way Candace had earlier tonight—she had no doubt most people would be fooled.

Her sister took her hand and squeezed.

“It’ll be okay.”

“How?” she whispered, not seeing a happy ending here. Maybe she could find Oliver. Maybe he’d stand still and listen to her enough so she could apologize. Maybe he’d even forgive her.

But that didn’t change the fact that they couldn’t be together.