What I Did for Love (Wynette, Texas #5)(3)

On the deck, white stucco planters filled with tall greenery provided a measure of privacy from any gapers walking the beach. She kicked off her sandals and slumped into an aqua-and-brown-striped chaise. The ocean stretched beyond the white tubular railing. A few surfers had paddled just past the break line, but the sea was too calm today for a decent ride, and their surfboards bobbed on the water like fetuses floating in amniotic fluid.

A surge of pain stole her breath. She and Lance had been the fairy-tale couple. He was the macho prince who’d seen through her ugly-duckling exterior to the beautiful soul beneath. She was the adoring wife who’d given him the steadfast love he needed. During their two-year courtship and one-year marriage, the tabloids had followed them everywhere, but she still hadn’t been prepared for the frenzy that had erupted when Lance had left her for Jade Gentry.

In private, she lay in bed, barely able to move. In public, she kept a smile plastered on her face. But no matter how high she held her head, the pity stories only grew worse.

The tabloids screamed:

Brave Georgie’s Heartbreak

Valiant Georgie Suicidal as Lance Declares, “I never knew real love until I met Jade Gentry”

Georgie Wasting Away! Friends Fear for Her Life



Even though Lance had a much more successful film career, she was still Scooter Brown, America’s sweetheart, and the tide of public sentiment turned against him for abandoning such a beloved television icon. Lance launched his own counterattack. “Unnamed sources say that Lance desperately wanted children, but Georgie was too busy with her career to take time out for a family.”

She’d never forgive him for that lie.

Trevor came out on the deck balancing a white leather tray with margarita glasses and a matching pitcher. He gallantly ignored the tears trickling from beneath her sunglasses. “The bar is officially open.”

“Thanks, pal.” She took the frosty margarita from him and swiped at her cheeks as he turned away to set the tray on the white patio table. She couldn’t talk to him about the sonogram. Even her best friends didn’t realize how much having a baby meant to her. That pain had been a secret one. A secret today’s photos would expose to the world.

“We wrapped Cake Walk last Friday,” she said. “Another bomb.” She couldn’t afford three box-office flops in a row, and that’s what she’d have once Cake Walk was released. She set her drink on the deck without tasting it. “Dad’s really upset about this six-month vacation I’m taking.”

He sank into a molded plastic tulip chair. “You’ve been working practically since you came out of the womb. Paul needs to cut you some slack.”

“Yeah, that’ll happen all right.”

“You know the way I feel about how he pushes you. I’m not saying another word.”

“Don’t.” She was already too familiar with Trev’s generally accurate opinion of her difficult relationship with her father. She wrapped her arms around her knees and pulled them tight to her stomach. “Divert me with some good gossip.”

“My costar gets crazier every day. If I even think about doing another film with that woman, kill me.” He adjusted his chair so his shaved head was in the shade. “Did you know she and Bram used to date?”

Her stomach clenched. “Birds of a feather.”

“He’s house-sitting—”

She held up her hand. “Stop. I can’t talk about Bramwell Shepard. Especially not today.” Bram would have watched her get trampled to death this afternoon and never lost the smile on his face. God, she hated him, even after all these years.

Trev mercifully changed the subject without questioning her. “You saw last week’s USA Today poll, right? Favorite sitcom heroines? Scooter Brown came in third after Lucy and Mary Tyler Moore. You even beat out Barbara Eden.”

She’d seen the poll and couldn’t bring herself to care. “I hate Scooter Brown.”

“You’re the only one who does. She’s an icon. It’s anti-American not to love her.”

“The series has been off the air for eight years. Why can’t everybody let it go?”

“Maybe those perpetual reruns blasting out all over the globe have something to do with it?”

She pushed her sunglasses on top of her head. “I was a kid when the show started, only fifteen. And barely twenty-three when it ended.”

He took in her red eyes but didn’t comment on them. “Scooter Brown is ageless. Every woman’s best friend. Every man’s favorite virgin.”

“But I’m not Scooter Brown. I’m Georgie York. My life belongs to me, not to the world.”

“Good luck with that.”

She couldn’t let herself do this any longer. Perpetually reacting to external forces. Unable to set her own counterforces in motion. Always acted upon. Never acting. She drew her knees closer and studied the rainbows she’d asked her manicurist to paint on her toenails in the vain hope of cheering herself up. If she didn’t do this now, she never would. “Trev, what would you think about you and me having a little—a big romance?”

“Romance?”

“The two of us.” She couldn’t look at him, and she kept her eyes on the rainbows. “Falling very publicly in love. And…maybe—” She pushed out the words. “Trev, I’ve been thinking about this for a long time…I know you’re going to think it’s crazy. It is crazy. But…If you don’t hate the idea, I was thinking…we should at least consider the possibility of…getting married.”