Damage Control Page 15

  “Right.” Grace got up and went inside.

  Lauren fled to the small table on the patio and opened the laptop, planning on being totally immersed in her work by the time Grace came back out in her swimsuit or—God help her—a bikini.

  She didn’t look up when she heard the sliding door open a few minutes later. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of a shapely leg and skin that looked soft in the moonlight. Work! You’re here to work, not to ogle a client.

  But that was easier said than done as the sounds of a towel being dropped and then water splashing drifted over. Lauren cursed her overactive imagination, which showed her the water rising up a bare belly as Grace lowered herself into the hot tub. Droplets slid down her neck and into her bikini top and—

  Lauren roughly shook her head. Christ, what was wrong with her? She’d never fantasized about any celebrity, and now was not the time to start. Turning the laptop a little so that the screen blocked her line of sight to the hot tub, she focused on finding the right words to tell the public that Jill had multiple sclerosis.

  Grace sank onto the built-in seat, letting the warm water envelop her until she was submerged to her neck. The tension in her shoulders was killing her, so she slid a little to the side until her back was against one of the jets. She hoped a good soak would loosen her muscles and help clear her head.

  Moonlight glittered on the surface of the swirling water. Steam wafted up into the darkness as she reached up to tug a strand of damp hair behind her ear.

  Taking a deep breath, she slid down until the churning water closed over her head. The sounds of the crickets and Lauren’s typing faded away, and she felt as if she were in a world of its own—a silent realm where none of her problems mattered.

  She emerged only to take a deep breath and then went down again, staying under water for as long as possible. When her lungs started to burn, she pressed her feet against the bottom of the hot tub and shot upward. Her head broke the surface, and she looked directly into Lauren’s eyes.

  Lauren stood next to the hot tub, regarding her with a worried expression. “Jesus, Grace! You scared me half to death. I was about to reach in and pull you out.”

  Grace brushed her wet hair away from her face with both hands. “Nah. Don’t worry. I’m a good swimmer.”

  “Lots of pool parties in your youth?” Lauren asked, now sounding calmer.

  Grace placed her arms along the edge of the hot tub, enjoying the difference in temperature and the steam wafting up from her skin. “I wish. No. My mother thought swimming was a good form of exercise for a girl, so she made me get up an hour early every day so I could swim before school.”

  Lauren didn’t comment. “I’d better get back to work. Try not to drown on my watch, okay? I’d hate to have to deal with the headlines.”

  Grace grinned and leaned back against the jets.

  When the tips of her fingers started to prune, she finally climbed out, dripping water onto the stone patio as she headed over to the chairs, where she’d left her towel.

  Lauren was still tapping away at the laptop. Every now and then, she stopped typing, pushed up her glasses, and rubbed her eyes.

  Grace regarded her with a shake of her head. “You’re a worse workaholic than I am, and that’s saying something.”

  Lauren’s head jerked up as if she hadn’t heard Grace get out of the hot tub and walk over. “Uh, what?”

  “I said you’re a worse workaholic than I am,” Grace repeated. She took the towel off the back of the chair and rubbed it over her arms before bending to dab it over her legs.

  “It’s not always like this,” Lauren said. “Just…” She trailed off, sounding distracted, and stared at something.

  “Just?” Grace straightened and tried to see what Lauren was looking at, but the silver moonlight reflected off her glasses and made it impossible to see her eyes.

  “Uh, just… Okay, it’s like this a lot of the time.” Lauren raised her hand to cover her mouth as she coughed.

  A cool breeze brushed along Grace’s back, making her shiver. Goose bumps raced over every inch of her skin. She wrapped the towel around herself. “I’d better get inside and change into something dry. You should come inside too before you catch a cold. That cough doesn’t sound good.” A wave of protectiveness swept over her, surprising her. But perhaps it was only logical. She needed Lauren healthy so she could do her job as her publicist.

  “I’m fine,” Lauren said and coughed again.

  Grace raised one brow at her.

  “Really,” Lauren said. “I’m not sick. I always start coughing when I’m tired.”

  “You cough when you’re tired?” Grace squinted at her. She’d never heard of such a thing.

  “I swear it’s true. My doctor couldn’t explain why. It’s just a weird little thing.”

  Grace kept studying her. “But he’s sure that it’s nothing bad?”

  “Yes. It’s just a cough or two, not like I’m hacking up a lung or anything,” Lauren said. “I don’t get it very often, just when I’m really exhausted.”

  “Well, it’s been a long day.”

  Lauren nodded. “You can say that again. And tomorrow probably won’t be any better.”

  “So come on in and let’s go to bed,” Grace said.

  The chair creaked as Lauren shifted her weight. “I’ll just finish this up and be inside in a minute.”

  “Okay.” Another gust of wind made Grace hurry inside. Shivering, she went into the cottage’s tiny bathroom, dropped the towel, and stripped off her swimsuit. The wet material peeled off her goose-pebbled skin and hit the floor. Routinely, she swept her gaze over her naked form, taking in every ounce of fat on her hips with a critical eye and then traveling up. Her nipples had hardened into tight peaks in the cold. She reached into the shower to turn on the hot water, then froze and looked back down at her chest. Blood rushed to her cheeks, heating them. Was that what Lauren had been staring at?

  She considered it for a moment and then rolled her eyes at herself. Don’t flatter yourself. If she thought that everyone desired her, she’d definitely been in Hollywood for too long. With a shake of her head, she stepped into the shower.

  As soon as Grace had disappeared inside, Lauren closed the laptop and fanned herself with both hands. Despite the dropping temperature, she was overheated. Being kissed by Tabby Jones, the attractive singer who’d been on the cover of both Rolling Stone and Playboy, had left her cold, but the sight of Grace in just a swimsuit, the wet material clinging to her chest, water dripping down her curvaceous body…

  Jesus! Stop it! The woman is your client—your straight, married client. She’d probably fire her, this time for good, if she knew where Lauren’s thoughts were headed. Lauren had worked with models, beauty queens, and actresses, all of them gorgeous, some of them lesbian or bi, and a few even interested in a quick adventure with their publicist. Still, it had never been this difficult to keep her libido in check and stay professional. What the heck was it about Grace Durand that made it so hard to think of her as just a client?

  Minutes went by, but Lauren didn’t find an answer. Maybe she was just building this up in her mind, making more out of it than it really was. Only a person in a coma would be able to resist taking a peek at Grace Durand in a swimsuit. Being attracted to one of the sexiest women alive was perfectly normal for a lesbian, right? It was just a physical thing, easy to ignore.

  With that kind of encouragement in mind, she picked up the laptop and went inside.

  Everything was quiet in the cottage. Just when Lauren started to wonder where Grace had gone, the door in the corner of the living room opened.

  Grace stepped out, wearing nothing but a towel. The damp material did nothing to conceal the shape of her full breasts or her curvy hips. Her cheeks were flushed from her sho
wer. She had wound her golden-blonde hair into a knot on top of her head and secured it with a clip, giving Lauren a view of her elegant neck and her bare shoulders.

  Lauren struggled not to stare. This is so not fair.

  “Sorry,” Grace said when she saw Lauren standing frozen in the middle of the living room. “I forgot to take a change of clothes into the bathroom with me. Feel free to take a shower too.”

  “Thanks. I’ll definitely take you up on that offer,” Lauren said, managing to sound fairly normal. She needed a shower—a cold one.

  “I’ll put out something for you to wear.” Barefoot, Grace padded past Lauren and climbed up the ladder to the loft.

  See? Just a physical thing, Lauren repeated her new mantra. No problem, right? Easy to—

  Grace’s towel rode up, revealing a glimpse of bare thigh and the rounded bottom of her ass.

  Lauren quickly looked away and clamped her teeth around her bottom lip to suppress a groan. Marlene couldn’t have picked a better test for her. Determined to prove her professionalism, she marched to the bathroom for a cold shower.

  Twenty minutes later, Lauren entered the living room in the clothes that Grace had put just inside the bathroom door for her. Grace had to smile as she caught sight of her. The sweatpants were too short for her by a few inches since Lauren was a bit taller and heavier, but she didn’t seem to mind. She wore them with the same confidence as she would a pair of tailored slacks. Her hair had apparently been towel-dried and finger-combed; it hung loosely around her face.

  Grace decided that she liked seeing her that way. It was a refreshing change of pace from the high-maintenance divas she often worked with.

  “Was there enough hot water left?” Grace asked from the tiny kitchen unit.

  “I didn’t…uh, yeah, thanks. And thanks for the clothes.”

  “You’re welcome.” Grace carried the tray she’d prepared over to her and gestured at Lauren to take a seat on the couch. “I thought we should eat something before we go to bed.” With an apologetic shrug, she put the tray of cheese, salami, and crackers on the coffee table. “Normally, I hit the store in town before driving up to the cottage. I don’t keep much food here, so it’s not exactly haute cuisine.”

  “Unlike the extravagant meal I prepared for you yesterday,” Lauren said, grinning.

  Grace had to think for a moment before she grasped her meaning. Somehow, it seemed much longer than just a day since they’d eaten hot dogs at Lauren’s place. “Yeah, we seem to make a habit out of this. Let’s not tell my mother, or she’ll put me on a diet.”

  Lauren snorted. “Please. You don’t need a diet.”

  Grace popped a piece of cheese into her mouth and studied Lauren while she chewed. “Why, Lauren Pearce,” she said with a teasing smile. “Was that a compliment?”

  “It’s in my contract, isn’t it?” Lauren assembled layers of crackers, cheese, and salami into a mini-sandwich. “The publicist shall provide the aforementioned client with daily compliments. Any delay or failure to perform this obligation will result in an immediate termination of the contract,” she said, sounding as if she were reading from a legal document.

  With a cracker halfway to her mouth, Grace paused. Now no longer teasing, she said, “While we’re exchanging compliments… I think I should tell you that I’m really glad I didn’t allow my mother to fire you. You’re doing a good job as my publicist.”

  Lauren stopped chewing. A hint of red tinged her cheeks.

  Grace smiled, charmed by her modesty.

  “Uh, thanks, but I don’t think I deserve that praise,” Lauren said. “I didn’t get your statement to the blogger on time, and things went downhill from there.”

  The self-critical response was a surprise. Most people Grace had worked with so far were quick to blame everyone else when things didn’t go well. “He posted his story long before the deadline he gave you. That’s hardly your fault.”

  Lauren reached for a slice of salami and held it in her hand without eating. “Still…”

  “Stop beating yourself up for something that wasn’t within your control.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Good.” Grace gave her a smile. “Or you’d have to handle a headline tomorrow about Grace Durand beating some sense into her publicist.”

  Grinning, Lauren popped the piece of salami into her mouth.

  Finally, when the last crumb of their impromptu dinner was gone, Grace cleared the table and then settled back on the couch. She gestured at the laptop that Lauren had brought inside. “Can I see the statement you prepared for tomorrow?”

  “Sure. We should talk about how to handle the press conference anyway.”

  Grace pulled the laptop over and opened the lid. The document that Lauren had left open appeared on the screen, and Grace read through it. “Hmm,” she said when she looked back up. “I don’t think Jill will like this. It makes her look like a helpless damsel.”

  “It makes her look like someone who has a neurological condition and therefore needs help on occasion,” Lauren said. “It’s the only way to make people stop questioning your presence in Jill’s trailer and her hotel room.”

  True, but still… For the first time, Grace wondered whether it had been the best idea for Lauren to become Jill’s publicist too. “So you phrased it like that for me? What about Jill? Shouldn’t we use a statement that protects her?”

  Lauren looked her in the eyes. “I honestly think this is best for Jill too. I don’t know her very well, but from what I’ve seen so far, I think her MS will become obvious to the people she works with sooner rather than later. What if she has a flare-up in the middle of shooting a scene or during a press event?”

  Grace had asked herself the same thing before, but she didn’t have an answer.

  “If she stops pretending everything is all right and openly discusses the limitations that come with MS, I think people will only respect her more.”

  After thinking about it for a moment, Grace nodded slowly. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “Yes. But there’s something else you probably won’t like.”

  Not sure she wanted to hear it, Grace gestured at Lauren to tell her anyway.

  “I want to allow a few questions from the media at the end of the press conference,” Lauren said.

  Grace sucked in a breath as she imagined the kind of questions the reporters would ask. “But won’t that open us up for questions that we really shouldn’t answer? What if they bring up my marriage to Nick?”

  “We’re taking a bit of a chance, but if we just read the statement without answering the reporters’ questions, it will only feed the media frenzy and make them even more hungry for additional information.”

  Unfortunately, she was right. Grace played with the laptop’s trackpad, making the mouse arrow stagger across the screen. “So what do I tell them if they ask about Nick and me?”

  “Don’t lie, but don’t tell them the truth either. You could tell them that Nick is just as outraged as you about the accusations of infidelity. In fact…” A cough interrupted her. “Sorry. It would be a good idea to have Nick there for the press conference, showing his support. I should have thought of it when he was here earlier, but…”

  “It’s okay. I don’t blame you for being thrown off stride by that little bit of celebrity drama.” God knows she had been caught off guard by it too. “I’ll call him first thing tomorrow morning and ask him to come.”

  “Why don’t you let me do it?” Lauren said. “I need to coach him on what to say anyway.”

  Grace studied her. Was Lauren trying to spare her the indignity of having to ask her future ex-husband a favor? Well, after today’s conversation with Nick, she wasn’t too proud to accept that offer. “All right. Thank you.”

  Lauren coughed again.

>   “Come on. Let’s go to bed before you do cough up a lung.” Grace got up and made up the couch with a spare set of sheets while Lauren made a quick trip to the bathroom.

  Finally, with their teeth brushed, they stood facing each other in the middle of the living room.

  “Good night,” Grace said. “And thanks for today. Driving me up here and everything. Giving compliments might be in your contract, but I know most of the other things you did today aren’t.” She hesitated but then gave in to the impulse. Quickly, she leaned forward and hugged Lauren for just a second before backing away.

  She was halfway to the ladder before Lauren’s “you’re welcome” reached her.

  Smiling, Grace climbed up into the loft and crawled into bed.

  From below, the sounds of Lauren getting settled on the couch drifted up.

  It should have been slightly awkward to sleep practically in the same room, especially here in her private sanctuary, but for some reason, Grace found it comforting to know that Lauren was down there. She turned off the light, closed her eyes, and listened to Lauren’s soft coughing until she drifted off to sleep.

  CHAPTER 11

  By the time Lauren woke, the gray light of dawn had crept into the cottage. She reached for her wristwatch that she’d set on the coffee table serving as her nightstand. It was barely after five. She listened for a few moments, but upstairs, in the loft, nothing moved.

  As quietly as possible, she gathered her clothes and tiptoed to the bathroom.

  Finally, armed with her cell phone and Grace’s laptop, she went outside to the patio so she wouldn’t wake Grace.

  The signal strength icon on her phone showed a single bar. Despite a momentary flash of guilt because of the early hour, she called Tina and told her which reporters to invite to the press conference. Just when she contemplated whether it was a good idea to call Nick so early, the glass door behind her slid open and Grace joined her on the patio.