What I Did for Love (Wynette, Texas #5)(34)

“I hated Pretty Woman.”

“Audiences didn’t. On the other hand, they did hate Pretty People and Summer in the City. And I’m not hearing anything good about the project you just wrapped.”

“It’s your career that’s in the toilet, not mine.” Only technically true, since Cake Walk wouldn’t come out until next winter. “You aren’t dragging me down with you.”

His desk phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and answered. “Yep?…Okay…” He hung up and came out from behind the desk, bringing his drink with him. “That was Chaz. Fix your makeup. It’s time to start showing off for the press.”

“Since when have you cared about showing off for anybody except trashy women?”

“Since I’ve become a respectable married man. I’ll meet you by the front door in fifteen minutes. Don’t forget to use that lipstick that doesn’t smudge.”

“Oh, I’ll remember.” She rose from the couch and swept ahead of him. “Gosh, all this talk you’ve been doing about holding the power card. Such a fascinating example of self-delusion…” With an airy wave, she headed back to the house.



By the time she’d finished touching up her makeup, finger combing her straight hair, and changing into a mint green Marc Jacobs cotton eyelet dress, the smell of fresh baked goods had drifted upstairs. Her stomach growled. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so hungry. Bram was waiting in the foyer, along with Chaz, who was gazing up at him as if he hung the moon and the stars.

As Georgie reached his side, he slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Chaz, you’ll make sure Georgie has whatever she needs.”

Chaz responded with a friendliness that Bram might buy into but Georgie didn’t believe for an instant. “Anything, Georgie. You just let me know.”

“Thanks. As a matter of fact, I’ve hardly eaten all day, and I wouldn’t mind—”

“Later, sweetheart. We have work to do.” Bram kissed her forehead, then turned to pick up one of two trays piled with home-baked sugar cookies. “Chaz has made a goodwill offering for us to distribute to our friends in the press.” He handed one tray to Georgie, then picked up the other for himself. “We’re going to pass these out and pose for some photos.”

The press liked nothing better than free food. It was a great idea, and she wished she’d thought of it. He opened the door for her. “I hired extra security until the gates go up,” he said. “I’m sure you won’t mind paying your portion of the bill.”

“How big a portion is that?”

“All of it. Only fair, don’t you agree, since I’m putting a roof over your head?”

“If you’d include some actual food with that roof—”

“Can’t you think about anything but food?”

“Not at the moment.” She grabbed one of the cookies from her tray and took a big bite. It was still warm…and delicious.

“No time for that.” He snatched the cookie away and stuffed it in his mouth. “Damn, these are good. Chaz’s cooking gets better all the time.”

She watched the cookie disappear. For a year everyone had been trying to coax her to eat, and now that she had an appetite, he was taking food away. It made her even hungrier. “I wouldn’t know.”

The end of the driveway came into sight, along with the beefy security guards stationed there. Several dozen paps and a few members of the legitimate press clustered in a noisy pack in the street. Georgie gave them a gay wave. Bram took her free hand, and fingers linked, they carried the cookie trays forward. The paps began “hosing them down,” a particularly distasteful term that described the aggressive shooting of celebrities.

“If you guys play nice, we’ll pose for some pictures,” Bram called out. “But if anybody comes too close to Georgie, we’re going inside. I mean it. Nobody gets near her.”

She was momentarily touched, and then she returned to Sanity Land as she remembered Bram was acting the role of the protective husband.

“We always play nice, Bram,” one of the women reporters shouted over the din.

Even before Bram passed both trays over to the security guards to distribute, the questions began to fly. When had they hooked up? Where? Why, after all these years, had they gotten together? What about all the bad feelings between them? One question followed another.

“Georgie, is this a rebound from Lance?”

“Everybody’s saying you’re anorexic. Is that true?”

She and Bram were pros at handling the press, and they answered only the questions they wanted to.

“People think this whole thing is a big publicity stunt,” Mel Duffy called out.

“You go on dates for publicity,” Bram retorted. “You don’t get married. But people can think what they like.”

“Georgie, rumors are flying that you’re pregnant.”

“Really?” The wound ached, but Georgie played the clown and patted her waist. “Hello? Anything in there?”

“Georgie isn’t pregnant,” Bram said. “When it happens, we’ll be sure to let you know.”

“Are you taking a honeymoon?” The reporter had a British accent.

Bram rubbed her back between her shoulder blades. “When we get around to it.”