by Lee Winter
“This is so weird, though.” Lauren kicked the ground. “Our lives, my family, my home—it must seem so small and poky compared with what you grew up in.”
“It is,” Catherine agreed.
Lauren’s eyes tightened.
“But that’s not a bad thing. Your family home is still far more welcoming than mine ever was. Phoebe and I each got our own wings of the mansion. It was…sterile at best. We never even saw that much of each other. We still don’t.”
“Wings. Of the mansion.”
“Yes.” Catherine really hoped they could get past this. Although suggesting to Lauren it was “only money” probably wouldn’t work. It always bothered people when she said that as they assumed she was being entitled. That wasn’t what she meant. It was only money. In its stripped-back form, it was a piece of colorful paper. Meaningless compared to what lay inside a person and what they did with their life. Who had the most stuffed in their wallet was hardly the measure of a man or woman. Still, she was aware that only someone who had been born with money would have the privilege to dismiss it so easily. It wasn’t “only money” to a lot of people.
Lauren looked faintly ill.
“You all right?” Catherine asked quietly.
Shaking her head, Lauren said, “This is too much.”
Doubt rocketed through Catherine. “Too much?” Her anxiety rose. “You mean—”
“I mean it’s a lot, okay? But don’t give me that look. I’m not walking away. Don’t be an idiot. I just need to process. Right now, I need you to go back to being plain old Catherine again in my exploding head.”
Hiding her relief, Catherine said with a small smile, “You think I’m plain? And old? Oh dear. How soon the gloss wears off.”
“Ha.” Lauren leaned into her. “I think you’re neither. Never could be. My God, the things you do to me.”
Her smile was teasing, if a little forced. But the fact she’d even made the effort to try and lighten the mood meant everything. Catherine felt her anxiety ebb away.
She attempted her own smile and nudged Lauren with her elbow. “No flirting in front of the senator. It would be far too effective aversion therapy. I’d never be able to have sex again without thinking of him.”
Lauren laughed, and Catherine felt almost weak with relief at the sound. Good. They’d get through this. It was all perception anyway. She’d just have to make Lauren see that. Regardless of who Catherine’s family were, she was still the same person. And it wasn’t like she had any of that Ayers fortune. Nor did she want a dime of it. The price attached was far too high.
Shading her eyes, Lauren squinted into the middle distance. “Hey, you know all the jokes I made about getting you to fit in here? Wardrobe-wise, I mean. Well, there’s a woman who keeps staring at you, and I swear she’s cloned your DC look.”
“My look?” Catherine turned and glanced behind her.
Oh God.
Even fifty feet away and wearing an improbable tailored pant suit at a State Fair, she was a woman Catherine would know anywhere.
Her world tilted sharply, and a shocked gasp left her lips.
The salon-teased, immaculate brown hair bob, oval face, and intelligent brown eyes were so familiar. This face had tormented her in her nightmares for four years. Seeing her in vivid color was overwhelming.
Her stomach dropped, and she felt the blood drain from her face.
“What’s wrong?” Lauren’s hand fell to the small of her back, circling it. The concern in her voice leaked out. “You’ve gone white.”
The warmth of Lauren’s hand was grounding. She drew in a hasty breath. “It’s my ex.” She sucked in a deeper breath. “That’s…Stephanie.”
Catherine could barely focus. Her breathing was shallow, her hands slick. Her pulse raced, fast and thudding, as adrenalin spiked through her. Her thighs twitched, as though ready to race somewhere. Anywhere but here. How odd that she’d somehow gone into flight or fight mode. Over her.
Lauren’s head snapped back around to look at her ex—the infamous source who’d not only destroyed Catherine’s life but sent her tumbling into an abyss of rage, bitterness, and self-pity.
No one had wanted to know her after her downfall. Her friends had deserted her, lest they catch political typhoid. Her new boss had tried to humiliate her, as if he could somehow actually worsen her misery. How little he understood. She’d been broken before he’d recalled her to LA and put her on the gossip beat. He just deepened her well of fury by making her the source of mockery. Exhibit A—The fallen Caustic Queen. Stand clear of her sharp claws and teeth. She bites.
All of it had happened because of one woman’s web of lies.
The only thing Catherine didn’t know was whether the lies were by design, intended to destroy her, or by accident. She had assumed she’d never find out. Her lover had disappeared the day her story ran, and she’d not seen her since.
But now here she was.
Catherine willed her gaze to cut through that impassive stare and produce the answer to the question that had plagued her for years. Had Stephanie been played, too? Fed lies to pass on to Catherine, believing they were true? Or had she known all along?
She could see no guilt, no fear. But Stephanie’s expression was also not entirely neutral. Catherine was just too overwhelmed to decode what it meant. Once upon time, she’d known every twitch on her face. Or thought she had.
Catherine tried to think past her own immediate chaos. What is Stephanie doing here, in Iowa? At the State Fair, of all places? That couldn’t possibly be a coincidence. Could it? Had she been following Catherine?
Her stomach lurched at that new thought. She remembered the prickle of being observed. Had Stephanie been watching her as she’d made a fool of herself, throwing balls at that idiotic game? Had she trailed her around the agriculture building, laughing at Catherine admiring a butter cow? The sick, helpless humiliation she’d felt after her downfall came racing back, filling her nose, her throat, and threatening to drown her.
“That bitch.”
Lauren’s hissed words cut through the roaring in her mind. Her face looked colder than Catherine had ever seen it. The hand on the small of her back had stopped its reassuring circles, and the tips of her fingers dug in for a moment. “What the hell does she want with you?”
The bile clawing at her throat rose higher. It was tempting to give into the confusion, to scramble away to safety. To be anywhere but here, exposed and vulnerable.
With effort, Catherine pushed the toxic emotions aside with the same cold detachment she’d long practiced as a journalist. The familiarity of the task calmed her. “I have no idea why she’s here. I’ll find out.”
“I’m coming with you.” Lauren straightened, arm falling to her side, and her pose shifted wider, increasing her height. Her body language, for the first time since Catherine had known her, actually screamed danger.
Catherine had never seen her looking imposing before. The fact she was still clutching a stuffed panda in a choke hold didn’t even lessen her authority. It was silly, but Catherine felt safer. A wave of tenderness rushed over her at Lauren’s instinct to protect her.
Stephanie was still just standing there. Watching. Waiting? The butterflies in her stomach intensified. “No,” Catherine said in a tone more assured than she felt. “Wait here. Just…give me a few minutes to see what she wants.”
Lauren’s nod was grim. “I’ll be right here.”
As Catherine walked toward her former girlfriend, she started to see the subtle changes from four years ago. Stephanie’s face seemed harder, and small lines were now around her mouth. Perhaps she’d taken up smoking again? She’d given it up when Catherine expressed her loathing for the habit. At the time, Catherine had thought it sweet that Stephanie had quit for her. Now she wondered if it had been a manipulation. Just another one, among many.
Sh
e drew to a stop in front of her. A wash of familiar perfume tickled her nose, and she hated the way her heart rate leaped, her body subconsciously acknowledging who this was. How much she’d once meant.
“Stephanie. In Iowa,” Catherine said. “Did you get lost?”
The woman’s smile was cool. “I could ask you the same thing. Sawdust, cow patties, and good ole boys is hardly your scene. The Cat I know is deathly allergic to flyover states.”
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped.
“You used to love it when I did. Cat.”
“I got over it. I got over a lot of things. Like putting my trust in you.”
“Well, that’s unfortunate. Given I have information for you that you’ll definitely want to hear. A story that’s world changing.”
Curiosity flared in Catherine, strong and sharp. She couldn’t help that about herself—she lived for news. But just as fast, a flash of white-hot anger rose up at what had happened last time. With the greatest of effort, she kept her voice steady and light. “Not. Interested.”
“Not even slightly curious?”
“You set me up once. Why would I trust a single word out of your mouth?”
“You think I set you up?” Her laugh was easy, friendly, familiar, which made it damned irritating. “You don’t think we were both set up? Both played for fools?”
Catherine’s mouth went dry. Time slowed to a crawl. She’d wanted to know this so badly. At first, she’d reasoned no one would fake months of a relationship just to bring her down. That was insane. She was a no one in the grand scheme of politics. On the other hand, Stephanie had a fierce intellect. It was partly what had drawn her to this alluring woman. And Catherine had a hard time believing anyone could ever trick her.
“Well, that’s what you wanted to hear, isn’t it? In fact, you’ve probably been dying to know the answer to that, haven’t you?” Her gaze sharpened, and her voice was taunting.
Catherine swallowed back the desperate need to know. She refused to beg. She clenched her jaw and waited.
“Was I some pawn?” Stephanie suggested. “Or was I working you all along? I’m curious…” She edged forward. “Which way did you lean?”
Catherine stared at her closely. “I thought you knew the documents were fake.” A complete lie. She had no idea.
“Of course I knew.”
Horror flooded her. It had been a sting from start to finish.
“Ah.” Stephanie gave her a knowing look. “So, you didn’t guess the truth after all. Why, Cat, you’re actually shocked.”
Stephanie’s face held no remorse. Nothing. Her tone was nonchalant when she flicked lint off her own sleeve and added, “I helped work out the plan, actually. Considered who you were in detail. The estranged parents, distant sister, and need to be seen as ‘worthy’ were thought to be your most obvious weaknesses.
“It was determined, however, that you were not likely to trust anyone new in the time frame required by my superiors. But perhaps you might trust a lover. That’s where I came in.” Her cool smile was wide. “We fit well together, didn’t we?”
Horror rose up. She had been profiled. She was a target. Catherine’s weaknesses had been laid bare and picked over by…who? Who had done this? A whole team, apparently. Stephanie wasn’t just in on the scheme: she was the damned mastermind.
“Is your name even Stephanie?” she finally asked, her voice tight from holding back her anger. “Who do you work for?”
“Does it matter? It’s in the past.”
“It matters. The past matters.”
Stephanie merely shrugged. “Not to me.”
Not to me. Catherine cast around for something, anything to unsettle that cold mask of indifference. She recalled a shadowy figure who’d confronted them on their SmartPay story, a man they’d dubbed “Gabbana.” He’d mocked Catherine for being played by this woman. And then he’d said one other unexpected thing…
“So you’re not actually Michelle Hastings?”
Catherine took enormous satisfaction at the startled look on her face.
“Where did you hear that name?” Her voice was little more than a vicious hiss.
“So you are Michelle. And, apparently, I’m not entirely the fool you take me to be.”
“I never said you were a fool. More like…blissfully unaware. Lacking suspicion where it would have served you well.”
“Who suspects their lover of something like this?” Catherine glared at her.
“I suppose you have a point.” She folded her arms. “Although what happened next I’d never have predicted.” Her face twisted into disdain. “Hell, turning the great Catherine Ayers into some seedy LA gossip writer? My God, that must have dented your ego.”
Dented my ego. That was one description for it. She shrugged and forced her words to sound even. “I bounced back.”
“So you did. Good for you.”
Catherine looked for the condescension in the words but couldn’t find it. She actually sounded genuine. Well, that would be a first.
She glanced around. Senator Hickory had stopped droning on in the background and was shaking hands with his small crowd. Lauren had inched up right behind Catherine’s shoulder. She could feel her body heat, like a strip of reassuring warmth at her side. She resisted the urge to lean into it, but just having her there provided her strength.
Catherine returned her gaze to her ex. “Why did you track me down? Have you been following me?”
“Ah, so much presumption. Never let arrogance stand in the way of facts.”
Frowning, Catherine asked, “What does that mean?”
“Never mind. Look, what I can tell you is that your stories are connected. Yours and hers.” She pointed at Lauren who stiffened.
Catherine warred with whether to just turn around and leave. Stephanie’s story leads were nothing to trust.
“Are you listening?” Stephanie’s tone became urgent. “This is serious. I’ve been completely honest with you—”
“This time,” Catherine said, voice cutting. “Allegedly.”
“Yes. This time. And your stories are too important.” Her hand flashed out to grab Catherine’s wrist. “You have to…”
“Hey!” Lauren cut in. “Hands off her!” She reached forward to wrench Stephanie’s fingers off Catherine.
“Whoa there, cowgirl. I’m not touching your precious fiancée.” Her hand immediately flew off Catherine’s wrist, rising in surrender, and she took a step backwards.
Lauren eyeballed her. “Cowgirl? Okay, lady, you can cut the condescending crap about where I’m from. There’s nothing wrong with Iowa. For instance, you get raised to stand by people and have some integrity.” Her look was pointed.
Stephanie’s gaze shifted to Catherine. Her eyebrow lifted. “Well, you picked a loyal one.”
“I learned from my mistakes,” Catherine looked at Lauren. “Let’s go.”
“Wait!” Stephanie said. “Look, I knew you probably wouldn’t believe me this time. So I’ll give you proof. A date. August 10.” She pointed at Catherine. “Your story will be back in the news. You’ll understand when you see it. Whatever happens, don’t let it drop. Stay with it. That’s all.”
“Why tell us this?” Lauren demanded. “What’s your angle?”
Stephanie ran her gaze over Lauren’s outfit, from the shorts to her T-shirt to her cap, where she stopped and stared. “You really did pick a winner there, Cat.”
“I agree,” Catherine said. “Lauren has a great deal of integrity. You might want to look it up sometime.”
“I have no interest in emulating your example. Although doubtlessly a roll in the hay with a cowgirl might be amusing for five minutes… Well, until the hay rash.”
Lauren gave an incredulous snort. “You look down on me, but at least I’m not prostituting myself for my boss.”
“You’d like to think that about me, wouldn’t you, Ms. King?” Stephanie’s voice turned into a purr. “That it was all business between Cat and me? Is that what consumes you at night?”
Catherine didn’t know where to look. Nausea welled up and she flicked her glance at Lauren, who looked murderous.
Lauren’s lack of answer gave way to Stephanie’s mocking laugh. “Bullseye, huh? Oh dear. Enjoy the rest of the fair, you two. Have something deep-fried on a stick for me. Lovely seeing you again, Cat. I’ve missed your pretty claws. Insatiable. Oh, and Ms. King? Nice panda.”
She smirked at Lauren, slid on a pair of designer sunglasses, spun around, and headed toward the exit. Her hips had a sway that screamed screw you both.
Catherine ground her jaw. She felt so…dirty. Her fingers were still shaking—from rage or disgust, she couldn’t tell. She’d been so damned stupid to trust this woman. She knew that much.
Lauren drew in a deep breath and looked around. Her gaze lit on something and, in remarkably even voice, said. “It’s okay. I got this.” She placed the panda carefully on the ground and straightened.
Before Catherine could ask what she’d “got,” Lauren raced off after Stephanie, caught up, and hissed something in her ear.
Stephanie stepped back in alarm. She regarded Lauren, who nodded and pointed at a local man lumbering toward them.
Stephanie pushed away from Lauren and took off with speed, arms pumping.
Catherine stared at her. She’d never seen anything spook Stephanie. She didn’t even know the woman had a pace faster than indolent cat.
Lauren sauntered back to her, looking smug.
“What on earth did you say to her?”
“It was petty, okay, so don’t judge me. But I explained that I have five beefy brothers built like linebackers who would use her for a piñata if they thought she’d upset their new sister. I might have suggested that Paul Bunyan over there—that man mountain with scowl face—was one of them.” She gave Catherine a pensive look. “I know, I know, it’s not very mature. And I played on her bias that Iowans are all a bunch of aggressive meatheads. I know you’ll say it wasn’t very evolved, but she brings out the megabitch in me. What a disgusting piece of…”
