She waved him off with an angry splutter. “You are delusional.”
“Perhaps.”
Janie took a breath, a breath she had to fight for harder than she should have.
“At least you might get something out of this. The press will leave you alone if they think you’re one of them. It’s me they really want to destroy, and my brother will bear the brunt of it. If that’s any consolation.”
As she ground her teeth Janie’s jaw flexed. There he went again, thinking about how it affected him. “I really hope your brother is okay. But no, that is no consolation at all.”
His face dropped and a glimmer of what she’d seen over the last couple of days resurfaced. The real man, hurt beyond measure, and running scared as the fates of his brother, his career, and his financial future were crumbling in his very hands. For a second she felt sorry for him. He was famous. Hunted by the press. That must be tiring. Perhaps he really had been enjoying being with her. Being free from whoever he was in real life.
“Just remember, you get to go back home and laugh all this off. This stuff is my life, forever,” he said.
All semblance of sympathy, empathy, and, well, anything nice disappeared right then and there. “I get to go home and laugh this off? With pictures of me on the internet? For my douchebag ex to show all his buddies and laugh about with his new wife? For my brothers to see? For my pop to see? Oh my God, you have no clue, do you?”
“You keep on talking about your two-penny town as if it’s Hicksville. You said yourself that hardly anyone gets online.” His voice was raised now. Indignant and defensive.
That was it. “I knew it from the first moment I saw you—too big for his oversize boots I thought. And I was right.” She looked around for something to punctuate her sentence and saw the piña colada on the table. Oh, too perfect. Her hands moved as fast as a snake striking.
Seeing him dripping with sticky coconut booze was a small pleasure. But only small. The scale of her humiliation was still rattling round in her head, and every time she thought about it, a fresh wave of shame threatened to overwhelm her.
“I guess that’s fitting.” He ran a finger down his face and licked it. “Shame. Nice cocktail.” Then he sniffed. “Is that something burning?”
“Oh shit.” Janie turned to her beautiful sauce, now gone sticky and black around the edges. She pulled it off the heat and a waft of sour, burned coconut milk hit her nostrils. “You have to ruin my first dinner? A cooking class was the first thing I put on my Thailand to-do list, and you’ve screwed it up. Screwed up my whole vacation of a lifetime. You’re a piece of work, McBullshit.” Hold it together, hold it together. She pulled herself up as tall as she could. “Oh sorry, you’re still here? Hadn’t you best get back to your adoring public and set the record straight?”
“Already sorted. The helicopter will be here for us in an hour.”
Helicopter? Again? Janie’s insides threatened to turn into as ugly a mess as the Thai lime sauce she’d had bubbling on the fire. “Fine. I’m going to savor the experience of cooking my first authentic Thai dish, on the most beautiful beach I’ve ever been on. So if you could act like you don’t exist that would be great, cause you’re spoiling the view.” She turned her back on him and after a moment, heard the shifting of sand as his feet retreated.
Stealing a look behind her, she breathed a sigh of relief and let herself crumble. Of all the lying, cheating, disrespectful, no good… She let a sob out but made herself take a long, shaky breath before the tears took her over completely. She had to get on a helicopter with him in an hour.
Her photos, online, in a newspaper. Why did all the men she found turn out to be lying asshats? Although it was only Two-Minute Tom who managed to ensure the photos were available to go online. And Tina who made it easy for someone to find them. She sighed, a deep, soul-shattered sigh. Sure, but Blaine McAsshat was the reason anyone had gone looking for them at all.
Sob-sighing, she put her fish in the pan and poured the sesame oil the old woman had given her over it. Within minutes it was smelling good. She tested the sauce, just in case, but it was burned all the way through. Turning to look at the table she’d decorated, ready for the most romantic dinner she’d ever organized, Janie felt the sobs threatening to rush out and overwhelm her again. “It’s still romantic.” It was, sort of.
As she sat down to her meal of fresh fish and plain noodles she sat up straight, determined to savor it. It wasn’t like she was ever going to get here again. And she was damn well going to make herself enjoy it, even a tiny little part of it. This was the stuff of memories. Of stories to tell the grandchildren. Only the chances of you having grandchildren are about as high as a patch of dead beet leaves right now.
She put a morsel of fish into her mouth. She’d overcooked it and it was dry. The sob sat like a lump of raw fish just at the back of her throat.
No. This was great, this was paradise, and she might still be able to have grandchildren, she told herself as she chewed. Things happened. A guy might move to Little Acre who wasn’t a cretin and who wanted a snake charmer as a girlfriend. And if that failed she could even adopt as a single mom. Uh-huh, ’cause that will be straightforward.
The thundering sound of a helicopter started approaching and Janie let a few tears fall, just a few, but stopped them so she could bolt back the rest of the fish and a few scoops of noodles before heading back to the other beach and the rest of her life. One where the likelihood of her cooking fresh fish on a deserted tropical beach and riding in helicopters was as real as her wearing a kilt and dancing the Highland fling.
Chapter Thirteen
If he could have swum back to the mainland instead of taking the helicopter, it might have been less uncomfortable. Janie managed to curl herself into the smallest ball possible in her helicopter seat, shut her eyes tight, and turn her headset off so he couldn’t talk to her. But every part of her radiated anger, frustration, and pain, from the tension in her muscles, to the white-lipped silence she refused to break.
Of course he’d never meant to hurt her. It had been so long since he’d been with anyone “normal” that he hadn’t thought through the impact that being caught with him might have on her. Because you’re an idiot.
You might not have meant to, but you landed her in this mess as much as yourself. And now it had repercussions on her life back home as well as his. Not to mention what might already be happening for Hamish. Had he even said sorry to Janie?
The apology had been on his lips when they landed, but before he could get it out, the press spotted him. One shout of “There they are” and it was on, a rugby tackle of a media scrum. Putting his jacket around Janie, Blaine rushed her to the waiting car and they drove at speed to yet another resort.
Safely in her room, he stood and faced her and she finally turned her chin up to meet his eyes.
“The piña colada was the perfect retort really. Perfect and right on target. I think you managed to ruin another shirt and pair of shorts. I don’t know what it is about coconut cream, but it takes no prisoners.”
“Unlike you,” she said, almost spitting the words out.
“I didn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to,” he said.
“No. But now I’m stuck here, aren’t I? Go outside and what will happen? That pack of vultures will take more pictures to go with the charming ones that are already online.” As if on cue, someone knocked on the door.
“Ignore it,” he said. “Listen, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry that you got caught?”
“I didn’t mean for you to get caught up in this. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.” Blaine rubbed a hand across his face. “It’s good that you’re angry, better than being hurt. I really am sorry about that.” He took a breath. “This”—he pointed between them—“this wasn’t a lie. The connection we had was real, but it’s not like it was going to last. We live on opposite sides of the world. Live opposite lives. I still have to sort out the mess with Stephanie and my
brother.”
She opened her mouth to say something, but whoever was at the door wasn’t giving up and knocked again, louder.
“Go away!” Janie shouted.
“Is that Janie Milan? Listen, we just want to hear your side of the story. Blaine Galloway is a player, babe. Don’t you want the world to know it?”
Blaine thought he saw something shift in her eyes as she looked down. His gaze followed hers, and he realized she was looking at the small snake tattoo that coiled around the back of her ankle.
Before he could stop her, she was at the door and wrenched it open to the shock and pleasure of the ten tabloid reporters outside.
“You want the real story? Well, here it is. I work as a reptile handler, in Texas, yes. You can spin that two ways into next week but there’s nothing more or less to it than the fact that I know what to do if an itty-bitty snake comes calling. I can also feed lizards without killing them, but I’m sure that doesn’t make quite as good a headline. I don’t do weird stuff with snakes, lizards, or any type of animal, and if one tries to bite me you can bet your ass I’ll be down on that sucker like a six-shot rifle. But animals don’t want to hurt us. Not unless they have to, so you can all quit writing stuff about me being a snake-charming vixen or whatever you want to call it.
“Now your man Blaine here is a big pansy-ass wimp when it comes to snakes. Takes one look at ’em and he just about faints dead away. So when his script called for him to have a scene with an adder, he needed someone to help him get over himself before he started shooting. If you’re looking for a dirty scandal, I’m afraid I have to disappoint you. We are not, nor will we be, together. Not onscreen, offscreen, or underwater. I mean really,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “The guy has about as much romantic appeal in real life as a soggy newspaper. Although you’d know that better than me.”
The last part drew a snicker of laughter from the reporters as Blaine watched on incredulously. She’d thickened her Southern drawl, for effect perhaps, maybe because she had an audience, but whatever the reason, it was working. The journalists were drinking in her every word and she seemed completely legit. Hell, the girl should be an actor.
After giving them a short lecture on how best to deal with adders in the wild, Janie added a parting sign-off. “Now, we have a road trip to take your Scottish hero here to see a bunch of deadly, massive, crazy-making Thai snakes so that he realizes just how easy he’s got it talking to a teeny-tiny adder. Any of you want to join us, fine. But you have to hold the snakes and have them slither over your shoulders. It’s part of the course. Any takers?” No one looked her in the eye. “Okay. Y’all have a nice day.” And she turned on her heel and shut the door.
The choice between clapping and falling over was a hard one for Blaine right at that moment. What a woman.
“What?” she said, her face flushed and set hard now that the adrenaline was seeping from her body.
“I can’t believe you did that.”
“They wanted a story. Now they’ve got one. Your fangirls might be a bit put out that you’re not the unafraid-of-anything superhero they thought you were, but you’ll get over that. I’m sure your TV show has a team of PR people who will jump on this now. Might even turn into something good. You could be seen at a wildlife park, being kind to animals, rescuing puppies, that sort of thing.”
He cleared his throat, still gobsmacked by her gumption. “You were pretty amazing out there.”
“Thanks,” she said, and stopped at that. Gone was the lost and terrified young woman he’d seen earlier. In her place was the Janie who wanted to take on the world. One who got on a plane to the other side of the planet to fulfill a dream rather than wallow in misery.
“I mean it,” he said. “There aren’t many people who would take on the press headfirst like that. You never know what they’re going to do with your statement. I’ve seen my words twisted in knots a sailor would be proud of, so I’ve ended up in worse trouble than I was in to start with. They’re vultures, the lot of them. And it seems I’m easy pickings.”
Faltering a moment, Janie stooped like she’d had the air knocked out of her and he put out a hand to steady her.
Brushing him away, she straightened again. “Let them do their worst. They have nothing to gain by going after me now that I’ve disassociated myself from you. Hell, maybe someone will start reading my blog and I can talk snakes and make real money from it for a change. There really isn’t anything else to say about me. Two-Minute Tom doesn’t have any more photos for them to steal, and there’s no hidden double agent under my clothing. I am who I say I am. Not much to write about.”
“Here’s hoping that’s true.” The sigh came from somewhere deep inside his belly before he could stop. “They’ll probably never leave me alone. There’s always going to be a Stephanie somewhere, too. My brother can’t seem to avoid trouble. I really thought Thailand would be a stretch too far. But I guess not. God, I hate to think what will happen if I really do make it in the States.”
She rolled her eyes. “Heaven forbid you get more famous. Man up, McHero. If you want to be famous, you have to be able to take everything that goes with it. Just don’t be such an asshat to the next girl you woo. And tell her who you are from the start so she gets to decide if she wants to risk the naked photos she never knew were out there turning up on the internet.”
“Touché.”
“Hardly. It’s common courtesy.” She put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you have a plane to catch? A life to lead? Fame to chase? Better get on with it. You’re not going anywhere standing around gawking at me.”
“The press is still outside.”
“So? Suck it up. They’re not going anywhere till you do.”
She’d done it. All he had to do was run through them to his room. She was right—time to get through it headfirst. “Right. Okay. Well, I guess I’ll see you later,” he said.
Staring at the dark teak wooden door a moment, Blaine pulled himself together and pushed his way through. Cameras flashed around him, but he was thinking only about Janie, about leaving Janie, because that was what he’d just done, wasn’t it? There was no coming back from this. It’s for the best; you would never have fit into each other’s worlds. Would they?
He almost turned back, but heard the crunch of footsteps behind him as a reporter turned a corner after him. His room wasn’t far; he needed to keep going. Janie had made it pretty clear she was done with him; hell, she’d even bad-mouthed him good and properly to the press. It was time for damage control.
As he walked, Blaine pulled out his phone and dialed his brother’s number, hoping that he was still okay, and that a talk about someone else’s problems would stop the sensation of lead rattling around in his stomach.
He reached his room just as his brother picked up. “Hi.”
“Blaine! Or should I call you Mr. Snake Charmer. God, this latest one is hilarious.”
He winced. “I’m not sure I share your amusement.”
“They’ll get bored of it soon enough. You know that. Or rather they do when you stop giving them anything to talk about. Honestly, I don’t know how you do it. Stay in the public eye like you do. It’s as if you want it.”
Blaine’s eyes widened. “I don’t. I don’t want this part of it at all.”
“Uh-huh.”
Blaine didn’t know whether to yell or laugh. “This whole thing with Stephanie was for you, so excuse me if I’m wondering what the hell is going on. You sound pretty damn happy for someone who has the Johns family after him. I half expected to hear you’d been dragged out of a ditch with half your fingers and your kilt covering your bloodied face.”
Hamish quietened. “I know. And I’ll never be able to thank you enough for looking out for me. The crap you’ve gotten me out of. But I’m fine, honestly.”
The breath rushed out of him unbidden and with the door finally locked behind him Blaine sat down. “So what about the Johns? Stephanie?”
“Yeah, Stephanie was fu
ming to start. I’ll admit the conversation I had with her brother was on the bloodcurdling side of terrifying. But now she’s the cat with cream and caviar.”
“What?”
“She’s the wronged woman. Do you know what sort of coverage that gives her? She’s got slots booked on two talk shows and she’s got herself an agent. They’re talking cameos on some daytime soap.”
Blaine’s head reeled and he looked out the window at a man halfway up a palm tree, harvesting coconuts as if nothing had happened and the media didn’t exist. “She’s not going to come after you?”
“She was. Like I said, her brother freaked me the hell out. If I never have to see or hear from him again I’ll be a happy man. But she rang last night, said you’re a genius.” Hamish chuckled. “She said that if she’d thought of it she would have made you do this ages ago. Because you were boring!” The chuckle turned into a snort. “She’s a piece of work. Anyway, upshot is, she’s got what she wanted and the six months is almost up. So you’re good. For now, anyway.”
Blaine opened his mouth but nothing came out. “That’s it?”
“Yep.”
“The nightmare is over?”
“Apparently. Although the press is going to be at you like bees on honey-toast when you get back for a little while at least. Lucky you’re a pro at giving them what they want.”
“What?”
“Come on. You can’t tell me you don’t love it, a little bit?”
“Is that what I do? Do I court them?”
“Sometimes seems like it. I mean, I got it, to start with. You were a nobody, sorry, but it’s true. So seeing yourself in the paper had to be a buzz. And I know you were always trying to prove all those fuckers wrong who were determined to see us go to shit. Hell, I admire that about you.”
“True.”
“And, well, you kept on giving them what they wanted, like you were inviting them in.”
“I didn’t mean to,” he said quietly. “I kept them away from you.”
Her Scottish Mistake (A Perfect Escape) Page 15
