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“Yes.” She yanked her shirt open, revealing a lacy red bra cupping not-girl-next-door breasts.
Usually he took his time to do things right. Less chance of regrets that way. And somehow he had a feeling that regrets were going to come fast and furious if he followed through. No way was he going to do this, even though it had been a while since he’d enjoyed a roll in the hay. But this woman had been occupying his thoughts for several days and nights, pretty much since he saw her walk onto his ranch a few days ago, and the moment she touched her lips to his, pressed herself against him, he was lost.
Her kisses seared him, her touch sent him soaring. He lost his ability to think clearly. They wasted no time in undressing and getting skin to skin on the bed. She was wild and demanding and giving. He barely managed to say, “Birth control?”
“On the pill,” she managed back.
And then he was inside her and she was arching and digging her fingers into him and making flattering sounds of pleasure, and then of satisfaction. A moment later, he did, too.
He eased to his side, taking her along. After a minute he realized she was crying. Again.
He didn’t ask her why, and she didn’t say.
Tony’s internal alarm clock woke him before dawn. He reached for Maggie, but his hand landed on a piece of paper instead of a warm, curvy body. He held the paper toward the window, where the outside light offered minimal illumination.
One word, printed as if in a rush: Thanks.
It should’ve made him happy, since he wasn’t much for mornings-after, either, but it only annoyed him.
He rolled off the bed and snagged his cell phone out of his jeans pocket, then called his foreman, Butch Kelly.
“I need a ride,” Tony said.
“Where are you?”
Tony could hear the rustle of clothing as Butch dressed. “Red Rock Motor Inn. Know where it is?”
“Spent my high-school graduation night there. Fond memories. So, where’s your truck?”
“Elsewhere.”
A beat passed then, “Okay. I’m on my way.”
Tony hung up and finished dressing. It was hard to believe she’d left without him hearing her go. He wondered how long ago she’d taken off. Sometime after three, because that was when they’d made love a second time.
He waited for Butch in front of the motel, his irritation increasing with each passing vehicle. Her note burned a hole in his shirt pocket. She could’ve said goodbye, at least. People who sleep together deserve that much.
She obviously didn’t deserve her driven-snow reputation—supposedly she was engaged to that Hollywood beefcake. She sure hadn’t acted engaged last night. In fact, she’d seemed like a woman who hadn’t been made love to in a long time. He wondered about that, and about her morals, sleeping with him like she had.
But, hell, who was he to spout morals? He’d had his share of affairs, some that never should’ve happened.
He tucked his hands in his pockets, and hunched against the cool morning, remembering. She was amazing in bed. He wouldn’t mind repeating the experience, not at all. Yeah, why not have some good times together while she was in town? They’d be private about it. He didn’t want or need media attention, and she would need secrecy from her fiancé. Could be tricky, though.
Where the hell was Butch, anyway?
He blew out a long breath, digging for the patience he was known for. It was probably just karma catching up with him, payback for the times in his youth he’d done the same thing, left a woman without saying goodbye, before he’d wised up and gotten civil about such things.
A Lucky Hand Ranch pickup pulled up to the curb. “Took you long enough,” Tony muttered as he climbed in, not feeling charitable, too much on his mind.
Butch shoved a to-go cup at him. Coffee, hot and black. “So, shoot me. Figured you’d need this, so I made a stop.”
They were the same age, had done the rodeo circuit together for years. Butch’s knees were worse than Tony’s, although Tony had broken more bones. “Okay. You’re forgiven,” Tony said.
Butch grinned. “So, can I ask what you were doin’ at the motel?”
Tony gave him a long look as he sipped his coffee. His cell rang. He checked to see who it was. “Pretty early, Mom, even for you,” he said after he opened the phone.
Sue-Ellen Young laughed. “I’ve already baked two pies and checked my e-mail. Nice picture of you, by the way, on celebrityscoop.com, kissing Maggie McShane.”
And so it began, Tony thought. But how would it end?
Chapter Three
Maggie’s stomach lurched as she focused on the computer screen being shoved close to her face.
“Tell me this is a look-alike,” Leesa almost screamed. She’d stomped into Maggie’s hotel suite a minute ago, holding up her laptop. “One of those fake celebrities. Tell me that.”
Embarrassed by her behavior, Maggie picked up her purse and headed toward the door. “It’s not a look-alike.”
“How did this happen? When did it happen?”
“Last night. Are you ready to go? You know I don’t like being late to the set. Dino’s got the car waiting.” When she’d gotten back to her hotel room around 4:00 a.m. she’d had to memorize the day’s lines, meaning she’d had little sleep, only the two hours between the first and second time she and Tony had made love. Her makeup artist was going to get after her for the bags under her eyes.
“How can you be so blasé about this? You’re engaged! You were caught kissing a local cowboy at a bar!” She grabbed script pages and a couple other items off the table.
“Cattleman.”
Leesa stopped in her tracks. “What?”
“He’s a cattleman. He says there’s a difference.” It was costing Maggie to act unconcerned by the online-gossip site’s photo, but she had to. Until she came up with a plan, she had to seem as if she knew what she was doing. Appearances were everything. She didn’t want to compound stupidity with idiocy.
“I don’t get it,” Leesa said, exasperated. “Last night Scott was here. You asked for privacy for the whole night, just the two of you. What happened?”
They stepped onto the landing. Maggie put a hand on her friend’s arm. “The less you know, the better. For your sake, not mine, okay? You’re just going to have to trust me. I want you to be able to say it was a big surprise to you, too, and mean it.”
Leesa clamped her mouth hard for a minute, then said, “So, the rumors about Scott were true.”
“What rumors?”
“That he and Gennifer were messing around.”
So. Even Leesa had known. “Had you planned to tell me?” Maggie asked, hurt making her throat burn.
“They were only rumors. I’d been trying to get them confirmed, but no luck. I wouldn’t have let you marry him without telling you, Mags. Did you know already? Did you call it off?”
Dino pulled up in the car and got out. Maggie couldn’t tell from his expression if he knew about the photo, but he didn’t hold out his hand for her to pass him her engagement ring as he always did, which told her enough.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Just super.”
“You know, if you don’t trust me, you should fire me.”
She jerked back. “I trust you.”
“I wouldn’t have let anyone get a picture, and I don’t pass judgment. You shouldn’t leave me behind.”
“I had to.” She couldn’t tell him any more than that. Not yet.
“I’ll keep your secrets until the day I die, Maggie.”
She felt about a foot tall. How many people had she disappointed or hurt with her impulsive actions?
“Thank you, Dino. I do know that.” She climbed into the car and said to Leesa, “Let’s run lines.”
Leesa huffed but pulled out the pages.
At the location, Maggie went straight into hair and makeup. She’d barely settled into the chair when Mac Iverson came in. “Give us a few minutes,” the director said to the two women working on her, then he leaned against the counter and gave her the eye. “So. You’re big news today.”
She assumed that meant her photo was everywhere now. Her manager and publicist would already be fielding calls from the various media entertainment-news shows, and magazines, too. Leesa would be fielding calls from her manager and publicist, and any others who had her phone number.
“I’m sorry,” Maggie said to Mac. She never brought controversy to a film. Mac wouldn’t work with her if she did. He was old-school, running a close-knit, familylike atmosphere, but demanding and getting the best work out of everyone. They’d worked together six times. There were good reasons for that.
“I met Tony Young for the first time last year when we were scouting locations,” Mac said. “I wanted realism, not a studio set. At the time he was living in the old homestead we’re shooting in, but his new house was almost ready. He agreed to hold off on remodeling the old place for his foreman until after we filmed, appreciating what I promised to bring to the movie—an honest portrayal of a cattleman’s life, not the romanticized version of most fiction. He’s a decent, hardworking, self-made man. He shouldn’t have to deal with the kind of media attention he’s bound to get now.”
Maggie felt like a child being chewed out by her favorite teacher, except…shouldn’t Tony take some of blame? She hadn’t acted alone. “I know.”
“Have you and Scott broken your engagement?”
“Yes.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. “Okay. Good. That’s good. And is Mr. Young in the picture now?”
Maggie realized right then what she needed to do, how she needed to resolve the situation. She had to talk to Tony first, however. “Can I just say that I’ll issue a statement later today and leave it at that for the moment?”
“Is this going to interfere with my production?”
“I’m trying not to let it, Mac. I’m sorry that it’s considered newsworthy.”
“Yeah, well, if you weren’t such a Goody Two-shoes…” He smiled then and pushed himself from the counter. “Wonder what the clever headline writers will do with America’s Sweetheart now.”
“If it makes them stop using that awful nickname, it might all be worth it. It’s been pretty hard to live up to, you know.”
“Not while your grandparents were alive.”
She finally smiled. “True. They did keep me on the straight and narrow, whether I wanted to be or not.”
Mac patted her shoulder then left. When she was finished in hair and makeup she headed to her trailer to get into costume. Leesa popped up off the sofa, her cell phone to her ear.
“She’s here,” she said into the phone. “Hang on.” Leesa held out the phone to her. “It’s Garnet.”
Garnet Halvorsen had been Maggie’s publicist for ten years, ever since Maggie lured her away from a big studio. She should’ve been the first call Maggie had made once she’d seen the photograph.
“I’ll call her later,” Maggie said. She kept walking, her dresser coming into the trailer behind her with the outfit for the morning’s shoot.
“But—”
“La-ter.”
Maggie heard Leesa try to soothe Garnet, who seemed to be yelling. Maggie signaled to her assistant to end the call, which she did. “Let it go to voice mail for now, please, Leesa.”
A few minutes later someone knocked, saying they were ready for her. Maggie put an arm around Leesa’s shoulders. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
Maggie wanted to believe her own words, but it really depended on Tony. “I need you to get in touch with Tony Young and ask him to meet me at seven o’clock tonight at the hotel. And apologize to him in advance for all the stalkers he’ll have today.”
“I don’t mind making that call, Mags, but don’t you think it should come from you? That any apology should come from you?”
Without a doubt. But since he would have questions that she’d rather answer in person, she hoped he would agree to come. Needed him to come. Her reputation depended on it, although he owed her nothing.
“Please just make the call.” Maggie opened the trailer door, her stomach full of hot lead, especially about Tony’s life being turned upside down, but she put on her game face and headed out to the set.
The tone now was completely different from previous days. She always got along with everyone, but she’d never been involved in a scandal before, and no one seemed to know what to say or how to act, except that cameraman Pete came up, allegedly to give her some change from the fifty dollars she’d given the bartender, then whispered to her that he could call Scott and tell him that it had all been innocent between Maggie and the cowboy.
Innocent? Not by a long shot, but Maggie was touched by Pete’s loyalty. She politely declined, more guilt pressing on her.
Once action was called, everyone got down to business, and the morning flew by. They were filming inside the old homestead. She tried to picture Tony there, wondered how much had been changed for the movie. Necessary people and equipment filled the space, not as small as it looked from the outside. Which bedroom had Tony slept in? Where was his new house? He must own a lot of acres not to have another house visible on the horizon, although other ranch structures were in sight.
And where were the cattle? It was a cattle ranch, after all, and she hadn’t spotted one, not even on the long, beautiful drive in and out each day.
Between takes she looked to Leesa for a signal that she’d reached Tony, but she shook her head each time. At the end of the day, Maggie was tempted to get directions to his new house and go there personally, except that she’d probably have to battle paparazzi, unless Tony had figured out a way to get rid of them.
At least the set was closed, and the passenger windows on her car were tinted, so Dino should be able to get her back to the hotel without being followed. Maybe. Mac had already upped the number of security people. Dino was talking about bringing in extra security of his own. She left the decision to him.
Why hadn’t Tony returned Leesa’s call? How furious was he? Or maybe embarrassed was a better word. If he wouldn’t come to her, how could she get to him? She didn’t think she could handle this…situation over the phone, but a personal plea via telephone to come see her might be the only way to get him. She didn’t want to make assumptions about why he hadn’t called. He may not even be at home, and she didn’t have his cell phone number—and didn’t want to ask Mac for it. His residence number, amazingly, was listed in the directory.
On top of that, she and Scott had played phone tag all day, but with both of them actively filming, they hadn’t caught each other during downtimes. She preferred to wait to talk to him until she’d met with Tony, anyway, so that’d been okay.
Maggie managed to keep working all day, presenting a happy face until she stepped into her hotel shower at the end of the day. In the privacy of that space she broke down, giving in to the overwhelming emotions of the past twenty-four hours, first Scott breaking up with her, then sleeping with a man she barely knew, then her reputation taking a major hit of her own making, along with the reputation of a man innocent of such treatment, when all he’d done was rescue her.
No one’s reputation had ever suffered because of her actions. Until now.
“Maggie?” Leesa called through the bathroom door. “Mr. Young is here.”
So. He’d shown up at seven o’clock, just as she’d asked. He just hadn’t bothered to let her know he was coming. “Okay. I’ll be out in a few minutes. Offer him something to drink, please.”
Maggie turned off the shower, made quick work of drying off then slipped into cropped pants and a sleeveless top. She towel-dried her hair, put on a little lip gloss, screwed up her courage, and went to greet him.
Well, damn, she’d wanted him here at seven, he got here at seven, and she was in the shower? Some consideration. Movie stars. Who needs ’em?
