She bit her lip hard. "Compromising, to say the least. When we broke up, he told me he'd destroyed them. I believed him. Only he hadn't. He contacted me last October and said he wanted money or he'd sell them to the tabloids."
An old story, one Matt was afraid didn't have a good outcome. "Did you confront him?"
She clutched the edge of the table. "I was scared and stupid, and I didn't know what to do. So I paid him two thousand dollars. Borrowed the money from Cassie because I didn't have the cash from the Purity contract yet. While I was with Mario I didn’t work much, so my bank account was low, and my credit card maxed. She loaned it to me, no questions asked."
Oh God, he was starting to get the drift. "But there was a copy."
She nodded. "I went to Chicago to do the Purity photo shoot. I was relieved to get away from him, and I was feeling pretty confident. I paid Cassie back and did a couple of runway shows. Made my agent happy. I was in Belize modeling jewelry when he showed up again. Said he had to talk to me. I was hesitant, but agreed to meet him in the bar."
Matt reached over and put his hands on top of hers. "You thought you'd be safe in a public place."
"He said he wanted me back. When I told him we were through, I stalked off, thinking he'd leave. In the night, someone slid an envelope under the door. It was a copy of the pictures. And with them was a demand for ten thousand dollars, along with instructions for how to pay it."
"What did you do?"
She met his eyes. "I checked out at four in the morning and went to another hotel near the airport, chartered a flight to Miami, and got a commercial flight to San Francisco. I came straight to Cassie, who has always shown me kindness, even though I've been a gold-star brat to her. I don't deserve to have a sister like her."
She teared up again and looked away, sniffing into the tissue. Her emotional pain climbed into his heart and lodged there, making him want to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be okay. But it would be the wrong thing to do. He didn't know how the hell she was going to extract herself from this situation. At least she was talking about it, getting it out in the open.
He wanted to help her. It wasn't those big eyes or the way her lip trembled. It wasn't the catch in her throat while she told her story. It was the pain in her voice and the droop of her shoulders, like she was trying to disappear inside herself.
I was like that once.
"Another question. How bad are the pictures? What I mean is, can your career survive if they're released? A lot of celebrities have been in your shoes, and it's been a big deal for about a month, and then something else takes its place and the whole thing is old news."
She picked up the tissue. Her hand trembled, but her voice was steady. "Unfortunately, the consequences wouldn't be bad just for me, they would harm my agent, too. The Purity contract has a morals clause. If I commit a crime, or do anything that smacks of immoral behavior, all the money they've paid has to be returned. I could probably handle it, because I haven't spent much. But my agent is retiring at the end of summer. I don't want to screw it up for her."
Shit. This was worse than he thought. He wanted to give her some words of encouragement, but he couldn't think of any. She had herself in a tidy little sinkhole, and it threatened to pull her and everyone else associated with her down under.
"Mario will track you down eventually. And he's a blackmailer, not a stalker. I still think you should go to the police."
She put her elbows on the table and looked him straight in the eye. "I know you're going to think I'm nuts, but Mario isn't a monster. He's a sleaze, and for some reason he’s desperate for money. I can't prove he's a blackmailer. Both times I was stupid and destroyed the pictures and the notes. If I went to the police it would be his word against mine. I'm planning to hide here in St. Helena until the Purity contract expires, and then I'm calling his bluff."
"What do you mean?"
"Purity introduces a new 'face of innocence' every quarter. My contract ends in a week. If I can keep Mario from finding me before then, I'm home free. If he shows up here before then, I'll pay him."
"If you pay him again, it will never end. He'll keep the pictures and try to get you to pay over and over again."
She shrugged. "After next week it won't matter. If he comes back to me for more money, I'll tell him to go screw himself. He can sell the pictures to the highest bidder he can find. I'll be the only one hurt if he goes through with it."
"What about the other people in your life?"
"Cassie's strong. She'll ignore it, and my folks..." She was worried about her parents, but the momentary notoriety would wear off, and they'd survive. "I'm getting out of modeling anyway. I want a job that isn't so public."
Her revelation was not what he was expecting. He picked up her hand and traced the lines in her palm. "Are you sure you want to get out of modeling?"
She looked up. "I don't know. I adore Edith. I realize now she knows me better than I know myself. She screens my jobs, and gives me lots of work showing only my hands or my legs. She’s my agent, but she is also my friend. As I age, I would have to take different kinds of jobs, ones putting me and my body on display." She pulled her hand free, twisted her hair and knotted it on top of her head. "I don't want that. I want a normal life. " She paused. "Can you understand?"
Yeah, he could. Being the grandson of a man who endowed a university in Texas and had buildings named after him, he understood perfectly. Which was why he fled to California to be his own man, instead of someone who was expected to help with the family business in a job selected by others. Someone whose choices were constantly picked apart by his father. Someone whose every action was news because of his family name.
But he worded his response carefully.
"You have a hell of a problem, Vickie, and I don't know how to solve it. But if you need a friend, count me in. I'm pretty good with my fists if your ex or some other nut job tries to harass you, and my brain's not bad, so maybe we can figure this out. Right now, my advice is eat something, get a good night's sleep, and maybe we can talk more tomorrow. How does that sound?"
"You'll keep my secret?"
"Like a clam."
She reached over and put her hand on his arm, her eyes softening and her lips trembling. "Thank you."
He was a goner.
CHAPTER FOUR
Vickie peered out through the front window at the quiet, tree-lined street. She was surprised she'd unburdened herself to a complete stranger yesterday, but today she felt much better.
The curtain fell back into place. She'd seen brighter days in Seattle, but it wasn't saying much. Unraveling her long braid, she headed for the shower. She would not be going out today, so she hung Cassie’s fleece robe on the hook behind the door and let the hot water soothe her.
Why had she opened up to Matt? She didn't even know the guy, but those dark green eyes and calm demeanor had drawn her out. She'd been holding everything in too long, and she desperately needed a friend.
Reaching over, she turned off the water, reached for a towel, and slipped into Cassie's loose robe...exactly what she needed today.
Cassie's panda slippers were a bit too large, but they reminded her of home. She and her sister always got animal slippers for Christmas. Her favorites had been a pair of elephants, complete with tusks. Cassie's had been tigers with tails that dragged along behind. The tails were too much of a temptation for a bratty little sister, though, and they hadn't lasted long.
Cassie was such a pack rat, those tail-less tiger slippers were probably somewhere in the closet, mixed in with sturdy boots, dirty sneakers, and one pair of strappy sandals. She'd look later, while she straightened them into neat rows and rehung Cassie's clothes to give them some order.
When this was over she was going to take Cassie shopping. Lord knows she deserved it. All the angst of the past few months had finally shown her what an ass she'd been to her sister, and now she'd do anything to make it up to her.
Despite everything, Ca
ssie was still there for her, watching out for her, giving her a place to stay without even asking why she was here.
Right now she was going to give herself a much-needed facial and see what Cassie had in her bookcase. She would have checked out her books before she ran out of the library, but the woman with a pinched face and wrinkled nose with a smart phone on the table made her too nervous.
Her insides went all mushy when she thought about the other reason she left her books behind. Matt was pure male, a guy who’d look good on a bucking horse or, even better, naked on rumpled sheets. When those dreamy eyes had stared into hers in the library, she was lucky she was backed up to a solid shelf, because her knees had threated to give way.
She hadn’t felt such a sizzling attraction in a long time. Too bad the timing was off. She’d love to stay and get to know him better. She loved guys who hung out in libraries.
She tied up her hair in a turban, cleansed, and pulled out the fancy jar Cassie picked up at a spa. It came from Calistoga, and was supposed to tighten pores and leave your face glowing in a healthy way. She unscrewed the lid. It smelled like sage.
Dipping two fingers into the jar, she spread the green goop on her face until she looked like the Wicked Witch of the West. Cackling into the mirror, she laughed. Her white teeth contrasted with the mud and tickles started in her chest and worked into a belly laugh. She had to stop, or tears would streak her face and make her facial uneven.
The doorbell rang.
She stilled as her shoulders tightened. If she was quiet, whoever it was would go away. Most people knew Cassie and Nick were gone. She hoped it wasn't someone scoping out the place to rob it.
Stop it. This is a small town. People look out for their neighbors.
At least it's what Cassie had told her.
She crept toward the door, the slippers making little slapping sounds on the hardwood floor. Sidling up to the front window, she peered through a corner of the drapes.
A sigh escaped. It was Matt holding a big pink box.
She unlatched the deadbolt and threw open the door. She took the box, set it down, and threw her arms around him in a quick hug. “Matt, thank you so much for listening to me yesterday. You can’t know how much better I feel.”
He staggered back, his eyebrows raised, a stunned expression on his handsome face. He reached up and swiped at his cheek, leaving a streak of green.
"Vickie?"
And then she remembered why he would be staring at her like she'd gone bonkers. The mud mask.
"Come in, as long as you promise not to take me out in the rain," she said in a high falsetto. "I left my pointed black hat at home, and I don't want to m-e-e-l-t."
He strolled in and raised his eyebrows. "Rain? Melt?" Then the reference to The Wizard of Oz must have dawned on him, and he shook his head. "What is that stuff on your face? New disguise?"
"Calistoga mud. Cassie swears by it."
He looked skeptical as he took the lid off the pink box, revealing six scrumptious-looking éclairs.
"Are those for me? Aw, you shouldn't have."
"Nope. They're for me. You probably have to keep your weight at a certain level."
"Not anymore." She grabbed one and nibbled at the corner, careful not to open her mouth too wide. She nearly swooned over the delectable cream filling blended with the chocolate and melt-in-your-mouth pastry. She sighed. "Where did you get these?"
"Bistro. It's their signature pastry."
She finished her treat and grabbed another out of the box.
"Whoa. Leave one for me."
"You brought six. Three each." The filling spilled over her lip, and she snagged it with her tongue, watching Matt's eyes follow it.
"How long do you have to keep the stuff on your face? I thought I'd take you out to the alpaca farm today. You can see Lilly in her own environment."
She reached for the third éclair and put it back. "Lilly hates me. Why would I want to visit her?"
"Because you're tired of being cooped up in the house? Because you'd like to get to know me better? Because you want to know more about St. Helena? I saw the book you chose in the library."
He was right. Gloomy day or not, she'd like to get out into the countryside.
She licked the last bit of chocolate off her fingers. "Here's the deal. You make coffee. I'll get dressed."
"With or without the goop?"
She snickered. "I don’t take goop in my coffee. Speaking of goop, you might want to dampen a paper towel and swipe your cheek."
He reached up and scrubbed at his cheek. "Sassy, aren't you?"
She sashayed into the bathroom to the sound of water running in the kitchen and cups being taken out of the cupboard…normal, peaceful sounds. Not for the first time, she envied Cassie's lifestyle. She had a home and, come summer, she'd have a husband, and maybe in a few years, a kid or two.
And she had friends. Good ones, like Matt.
・・・
It wasn't every day a door opened and a lizard woman greeted you. The turban threw him off. It wasn't the Gecko's girlfriend. But whatever it was, it had made him want to roll on the floor, laughing his head off, when the jolt of surprise wore off.
Not wanting to offend, he stifled the impulse and took his peace offerings into the kitchen. Lexi and Priscilla's baked goods put anyone in a good mood, and he hoped after last night her mood had lightened a bit.
And she's forgiven me for cornering her in the library.
A tour of the area might help her set her troubles aside for a day or two. God, he was such a pushover for a lady in distress. But this one made his heart constrict when she'd looked at him with tear-stained cheeks, touched his arm, and mouthed "thank you."
When the coffee was ready, he poured a cup, chowed down on a couple of the pastries and hollered through the closed door. "How long are you going to be? Shall I pour your coffee?"
"Almost ready."
She came out in her designer jeans, a long, belted sweater, and the ill-fated loafers, now cleaned and polished. Her dark brown hair was tied into a knot on top of her head, and she carried a baseball cap in her hand.
Her face was shiny and clean, without a hint of makeup. Hell, she didn't need any. "The face of innocence, huh?" He reached out and let his finger drift down her cheek. "Skin as soft as a newborn lamb."
"Dumb slogan, isn't it?" She picked up her cup and sipped. It was black, but she didn't seem to mind.
"I'd say they got it right. You look about sixteen in those ads, but sexy as hell. If they're using sex to sell their products, why do they have a morals clause in their contract? A bit hypocritical, wouldn't you say?"
The corners of her mouth turned down like she'd tasted something sour. She shook it off. "I don't want to talk about it right now. Let's go. I can hardly wait to get spit on again."
Matt left the two remaining éclairs in the box. He followed Vickie to the door, waiting while she undid the deadbolt and cautiously stepped out on the porch.
"My ride is in the driveway."
"Wow. Wish it was a nice day. We could put the top down. What is it?"
"It's a 1952 MG. My pride. My mistress. My love. Nobody drives it. Nobody works on it. Let's just say you are privileged because you get to ride in it."
She laughed. “Privilege gratefully accepted.”
The car purred as they headed out to Alberta's Paradise Alpaca Farm and Pet Sanctuary. Alberta had camelids of all types, from alpacas to llamas, and even a small camel. It was billed as a large animal rescue center, and since Vickie threatened to report him to the Humane Society for not giving Lilly a sugar cube right away, he thought she might like the place.
・・・
They turned onto a long driveway with vineyards on both sides, heading into the low foothills beyond. Pine trees dotted the landscape, with a scattering of madrones and a few oaks. A fenced area, nearly an acre, held animals peacefully grazing. He stopped the car in front of a low building with barns beyond. A retail store carried alpaca s
ocks and sweaters, made from the sheared pelts of the animals on site.
"Come on." He tugged her forward.
They went into one of the barns and stopped in front of a stall marked "Lilly." The alpaca perked up her ears, hoofed over to the gate, and waited . Matt dug in his pocket and pulled out a small apple. She hummed and grabbed it out of his hand with her teeth.
Vickie, he saw, had backed up a good distance away from the stall.
"Hey, come over here. I have another one. You can give it to her."
Her eyebrows shot up. "Are you sure? I just cleaned these shoes."
He grinned and put an apple in her hand. She looked hesitant, her head cocked to the side like she was studying an adversary.
"Go on. Put it on your hand, and she'll grab it. The only thing you'll feel is her tongue touching your palm."
She crept to the edge of the pen and reached out. The animal took the apple. Vickie yanked her arm back and wiped it on her jeans. "It tickled."
"See, I told you she likes you. You can pet her."
She scratched the alpaca's pointed ears and patted her forehead. "Not soft. Scratchy and coarse."
"The fur is thick this time of year. She'll look a lot thinner when she's shorn."
They moved on to other stalls. Matt wracked his brain, trying to give her a ten-minute education on camelids without boring her. The main reason for the visit was to get her mind off her troubles. It seemed to be working when she relaxed and asked questions about behavior, eating habits, even grooming.
When they finished touring the barn, they went into the small building with the retail. She fingered the scarves and the sweaters, and pulled one off a rack and held it up to her neck. "What do you think? My color?"
"Honey, you'd look good in anything...or nothing."
She swatted him on the arm, put the sweater back, and looked at the other items. The owner was out back, but a young girl sat in a corner knitting.
They left the shop and stood by the car.
"Hop in. I forgot something." He ran back into the shop, paid for a scarf the same color as the sweater, and came back out with a small cloth bag. "Here."
A Model of Perfection Page 3
