“No.” He moved to his desk and started moving papers as though he were looking for something.
“Don’t dismiss me. I need to know—I need to know if what my father is saying about you is true.”
Deacon straightened and his dark gaze met hers. “Why would you doubt him?”
“Because I feel like I’m missing something. And yet I keep thinking if you were innocent, you would have given your statement to the police. You would have cleared up this mess. Instead you remain tight-lipped about the facts, which says you’re guilty. Is that it? Are you guilty?”
His jaw tightened. “I know in part you agreed to this arrangement to get information, but I’m not talking about the accident. Not now. Not ever. So if that’s what you’re after, you can go back to Bakersfield.”
“So you can say I broke the arrangement and have you press charges against my father? No thank you. I’m staying until my time has been served.”
“This isn’t a prison.” His voice rumbled. “You’re free to go.”
“When our deal is fulfilled and not a minute sooner.”
She paused and studied his face. “You might feel better if you talked about it.”
“That subject is off-limits,” he said with finality.
She sighed. “Okay then. I’ll go work on the plans for the fund-raiser. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“At this hour?”
“It’s not like I have much else to do around here. This place is so big and yet so empty.”
His eyes grew dark. “It’s the way I like it.”
She didn’t believe him. He didn’t live alone in this big house because he wanted to. There was so much more to him closing himself off from the outside world. How would she get him to open up to her?
Gaby moved to the door. She paused in the doorway. She still hadn’t told him the other reason she’d sought him out. She worried her lip. With him standing there looking so cold, it wasn’t easy to talk to him. He reminded her of the man she’d met that not-so-long-ago day in the library, but tonight he hadn’t told her to get out. Nor had he growled at her. Maybe he was changing.
“What?” he prompted.
“I just wanted to make sure that things were straight between us. You know, about the kiss.”
He brushed off her concern. “It’s already forgotten. I won’t be kissing you again if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Oh.” She wasn’t sure what she’d wanted him to say, but that wasn’t it.
Without a word, he turned his back to her and stared out at the moon-drenched ocean.
She had been dismissed, quickly and without hesitation. And so had their kiss. Was it just her that had been moved when his lips touched hers?
As she walked away, she felt as though she had lost her footing with Deacon. Her fingers traced her lips, recalling the way his mouth had moved passionately over hers, bringing every nerve ending to life. Her lips tingled at the memory.
He may deny it, but he’d felt something, too. And for the life of her, she didn’t know what to do about this attraction that was growing between them.
CHAPTER EIGHT
HE COULDN’T STOP thinking about that picture.
The next morning, Deacon set aside his pen and leaned back in his desk chair. Although he didn’t like the invasion of privacy, that wasn’t what was eating at him. Nor was it the inflammatory headline. It wasn’t any of that stuff.
He pulled up the photo on his computer with the larger monitor. The part that he couldn’t get past was that she looked good in his arms. In fact, if he didn’t know better, he’d swear they were lovers. And he was certain that’s what anyone who caught a glimpse of the photo would think.
He scrolled down, finding there were hundreds of comments. He knew he shouldn’t read them, but he couldn’t help himself. There were, of course, mean, nasty comments, but to his surprise, there were others in support of them. They commented that sometimes love comes at the most unexpected times. Those people were all wrong—very wrong. Others said he was taking advantage of Gabrielle. That, too, was untrue. He was trying to help her, both financially, with an inflated salary, and so that she could gain her independence from her father. And it certainly had nothing whatsoever to do with love.
Deacon shut down the site. He’d read enough. He checked the time. It was almost time for him to leave for his appointment.
He moved to his bedroom to change clothes. Still, he couldn’t stop thinking about Gabrielle.
He knew she wanted answers, but he didn’t think she’d buy his amnesia story any more than the police had bought it. There had been the skeptical looks followed by the prodding questions that went on and on with the same answers. It was as if they believed that if they asked the same questions a hundred and one times, his answers would change from “I don’t remember” to something they could use against him.
In the short amount of time he’d spent with Gabrielle, he’d come to respect her. And having her upset with him for not opening up about the deadly accident was better than the look she would give him upon hearing that he couldn’t remember it. In her shoes, he probably wouldn’t believe him, either. He couldn’t bear to have her look at him as if he were a liar. He was a lot of things in life, and some of them were not so good, but he wasn’t a liar.
Maybe today he would get those elusive answers. His attorney had said he had news, but he wouldn’t say on the phone whether it was good or bad. Something told Deacon that it wasn’t good news. But he didn’t want to say anything to Gabrielle until after his meeting, when he’d hopefully have more information.
Once he left the attorney’s office, he had a doctor’s appointment, where they’d run some tests to make sure he was healing properly. The accident had done significant damage to his body. If he were to pass through the metal detectors at the airport, he’d surely set them off with his newly acquired hardware.
In the end, he’d spend most of the day in Los Angeles. He didn’t like these outings. They were fraught with the stress of being hounded by the press and wondering if the attorney and doctors would have more bad news for him.
Refusing to dwell on the unknowns awaiting him, he gathered the screenplay he’d finished reading. He was on the fence about this one. It was a mystery and he recalled Gabrielle mentioning that she enjoyed reading mysteries. He’d like to get her take on this one before he went any further. He did have a few changes he’d like to see incorporated when the screenplay was rewritten, but he’d run those past Gabrielle after he got her initial reaction.
However, when he opened the door to the office, Gabrielle wasn’t at her desk. He walked farther into the room and found the outer door slightly ajar. He dropped the stack of papers on her desk and headed out the door. Once outside, he spotted Gabrielle at the end of the walk.
Deacon called out to her, but she must not have heard him as she kept moving. She turned the corner away from the beach and the guest cottage. Where was she going?
As he followed her, the sidewalk soon became surrounded by overgrown bushes, tall grass and weeds. He frowned. To be honest, he never walked toward the front of the house. It was too close to the road for his comfort with the paparazzi lurking about.
Surely she couldn’t be enjoying a leisurely stroll through this thick vegetation, could she? He kept walking. His steps were long and quick as he hustled to catch up with her.
He turned a corner and there she was on the opposite side of the house. She stood in the shadows with a legal pad in one hand and a pen in the other. She was so intent on writing something that she didn’t appear to notice his presence.
Once he was within a few yards of her, he called out to her.
Her head jerked up.
“Oh. It’s you.” And then she flashed him a smile that filled his insides with warmth. “Good morning.”
“I stopped down
to speak with you and didn’t find you at your desk.”
She turned back to the legal pad and continued writing. “I had an idea and I needed to check it out. Now, I’m not sure how to make it work.”
An idea? Suddenly he grew uncomfortable. If he knew anything about Gabrielle, it was that she wasn’t afraid to shake things up. And the fact that she was standing in his overgrown yard making notes didn’t sit well with him.
She sent him a mischievous grin that lit up her eyes and intensified that fuzzy warm feeling in his chest. He swallowed hard. “Gabrielle, dare I ask what you have in mind?”
She glanced around. “This used to be a golf course, didn’t it?”
He glanced over the neglected grounds and a fresh wave of guilt washed over him. “At one point, it was a private course.”
“Wow.” Her gaze was glued to the lush green grounds. “How many holes?”
“Nine.” He used to spend a lot of time out here entertaining friends and associates. They said he had the best private course in the country. “But it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Of course it matters. Why don’t you golf anymore?”
“After the accident, my injuries made it impossible.”
“And now, can you play?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t tried.” He rotated his left shoulder. There was a dull pain, but thanks to lots of therapy, his range of motion was almost one hundred percent. “Not that anyone could golf out here.”
“It looks like at one point it was beautiful.”
“It was.” His mind conjured up an image of the golf course in its prime. It had come with the house and it had been gorgeous, with water hazards and sand bunkers. It might have been a short course, but it had been a fun way to while away a lazy summer afternoon with friends. Those carefree days seemed like a lifetime ago now.
“It’s a shame to let it go to ruin. Have you ever considered restoring it?”
He shook his head. He just couldn’t imagine golfing when he had so much uncertainty and guilt weighing him down. “I stopped by to let you know that I need to go out for a while.”
Her eyes widened and her mouth gaped open, but she quickly recovered her composure. “I didn’t know you ever left here.”
“I don’t unless it’s necessary.”
Unasked questions filled her eyes, but she was smart enough to leave them unspoken. “Is there anything you need from me while you’re gone?”
“Yes. I put a screenplay on your desk. I know you enjoy mysteries and I was interested in your thoughts. The sooner, the better.”
“Thoughts? As in a pro-con list?”
He hadn’t thought of that, but it wasn’t a bad idea. “Sure. That works for me.” And then he added, “I’d really appreciate it.”
“Well, when you put it so nicely, I’d be happy to do it.”
So nicely? He didn’t think he’d said it in any special manner. Perhaps she meant since he didn’t growl at her. Was Gabrielle having that much of an effect on him?
“I’ll be gone most of the day.” He turned to walk away.
“Do you mind if I ask where you’re going?” When he turned back to her, she added, “You know, in case something comes up while you’re gone.”
“I’ll have my cell phone. The number is listed on your computer.”
“Oh, okay.” She tried to hide it, but he caught the hint of a frown. “But there’s something I want to discuss with you.”
He checked the time on his phone. “It’ll have to wait.”
When he turned to walk away, Gabrielle said, “But it won’t take long—”
“I can’t be late. I’ll talk to you when I get back.”
Without another word from either of them, he strode away. He could have told her about his meeting with his attorney, but he didn’t want to get her hopes up. He felt the pressure every time she looked at him. She wanted the truth as much as he did. If only he could remember.
* * *
This was pointless.
Gaby sat behind her desk later that afternoon. Deacon still hadn’t returned. The fact that he’d been gone for hours worried her. Perhaps she should have pushed harder to learn his destination, but she doubted there was anything she could say to get him to open up.
She was quickly coming to the conclusion that no matter what she tried, Deacon wasn’t going to let his guard down with her. He was a very determined man. But at least he didn’t growl at her any longer. That had to mean something, right?
And now that she had him considering the fund-raiser, she had to make it extra special. It was her ticket out of here without jeopardizing the deal for her father.
The fund-raiser needed to be something different. Something that would attract big names with big money and also attract the press. She told herself that concluding their deal early was the only reason she was so invested in these plans that kept her up at night. Because there was no way she was trying to improve Deacon’s image.
Her gaze scanned across the manuscript that Deacon wanted her to read. It could wait until later. Right now, she was wound up about the fund-raiser. It could help so many people, not just Deacon.
After making some notes, Gaby looked up the name and number of the printing company she’d used for the library fund-raiser. Lucky for her, she could use a lot of the same contacts for this event. It would cut down on her workload because getting this estate ready for the event was going to take a lot of time.
Gaby recalled seeing a list of estate employees on her first day here when she’d been checking out everything. Now where had she seen it? Her gaze scanned her desktop. Nothing there. Then she turned to the bulletin board behind her desk. No names and numbers.
She logged on to her computer. Maybe they were in here. A lot of pertinent information was stored on the network. She clicked on directory after directory. And then she stumbled across a file titled Personnel Listing. Under Grounds Crew, there were six names listed. Was it possible they were still employees? She knew it was a long shot, but hope swelled within her.
She reached for the phone and then hesitated. Should she do this without checking with Deacon?
She worried her bottom lip. He did give her the lead on this fund-raiser. And it wasn’t like he had much interest in the plans. But if she could show him what she had in mind, she was certain he would agree. She hoped.
Without letting any more doubts creep into her mind, she picked up the phone and dialed the first number on the list.
CHAPTER NINE
IT HAD NOT been a good day.
Not at all.
Deacon stepped out of the dark SUV and sent the door flying shut with a resounding thud. He pulled the baseball cap from his head, scrunched it with his hand and stuffed it in his back pocket. He removed his dark sunglasses and hung them from the collar of his shirt. He was done with disguises for today.
For all of the good it had done him, he might as well have stayed home. His attorney didn’t have any good news for him. In fact, it was quite the opposite. The television network he’d been negotiating with had pulled out of the deal. They felt he brought too much bad publicity to the table and it would ruin their chances of having a hit. Apparently they didn’t subscribe to the notion that there is no such thing as bad publicity.
Perhaps Gabrielle was right. Maybe he needed an image makeover. But would that work before the police report was released?
People might think that he’d refused to answer the officer’s questions, but it was quite the opposite. In fact, at his meeting with his attorney, he told him in no uncertain terms to light a match under the powers that be. If he was innocent, he needed to be cleared ASAP. And if he had caused the tragedy, then he’d deal with the consequences.
When he’d moved on to his doctor’s appointment, he grilled his physician about the gaping holes in his memory and the nightmares t
hat plagued him. The doctor said the memories might all come back to him at once, or they might come back in pieces. His dreams were indicative of them coming back to him bit by bit. The doctor did warn him that the dreams might be real memories or they could be figments of his imagination. Or a combination of both.
When Deacon stepped out of the garage, he ran straight in to Gabrielle. He was not in the mood to be social right now. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be working?”
Her eyes widened. “I am going up to my rooms. And no, I shouldn’t be working as the workday is over.”
He pulled out his phone. It was much later than he’d been expecting. His appointments had taken up his entire day and he still didn’t know any more than he had when he’d left that morning.
“I—I didn’t realize the time.” Not wanting to chitchat, he said, “I’ll just be going.”
“Wait. I wanted to talk to you.”
“About?”
“The fund-raiser. I’ve come up with some really good ideas. I was hoping for your input.”
Deacon shook his head. He was in no frame of mind to deal with Gabrielle or the fund-raiser. “I don’t think this evening is a good idea.”
“Are you feeling all right?”
“As good as can be expected. I just...” He paused as he grasped for any excuse to make a quick exit. “I’m just hungry.”
“Then I have the perfect solution. It’s Mrs. Kupps’s night off, so I’ll cook us up some dinner.”
“I don’t want you to go to any bother.”
“It’s no bother. We both have to eat, don’t we?”
Her insistence surprised him. Of course, he realized that her interest was purely for business reasons. And she was right, they did have to eat. So what would it hurt to combine food and work?
“Okay. Count me in.” He arched an eyebrow at her. “I take it this means you know how to cook.”
She nodded. “Does that surprise you?”
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