Let's Misbehave (17 page)

“You know what makes me most sad?” Imogen asked.

He looked at her.

“The look of longing on your face. You’re dying to play, but for some reason you won’t let yourself.” She blinked, her eyes glistening suspiciously. “I bet Michaela would be sad, too, if she knew you were denying yourself for her sake. She’d have wanted you to be happy.”

“I am happy.”

“You want to ask Malcolm what he thinks of that statement?” Imogen raised an eyebrow. But then she draped her arms around him. “Today was our first contentious day. Our first fight.”

“Was it?” With her in his arms, for the first time since he came upstairs he felt like he could breathe. He inhaled her scent and felt his body relax. “Every conversation with you feels like combat.”

“You want to see combat?” she asked suggestively.

His tiger stirred at her seductive tone. “Will it be hand-to-hand?”

“It’ll include whatever body parts you want,” she promised.

“In that case.” He lifted her in his arms and carried her downstairs to his room. He glanced over his shoulder as he left the music room, relieved to be out of there.

Sad, too.

Chapter Sixteen

Her mobile pinged with a text message.

Holly knew it was Marjorie. The only other person who ever texted her was Peter, and he was in school right now.

She knew what Marjorie wanted, too: dirt. Because the past few days Holly had managed to avoid talking to her boss. She’d left vague, peppy messages that were garbled or useless. Luck had been on her side—she and Marjorie had managed not to connect.

But she felt her luck running out.

Another ping. Holly hunched over the laptop and hummed, ignoring it. She’d have turned her phone off completely except that she needed it on in case the school needed to reach her regarding Jamie.

Holly turned the computer toward Gigi, even though the actress was on the floor doing yoga. “I rearranged the way your expenses are laid out. It should make it easier for accounting.”

“Excellent,” Gigi said as she moved from one pretzel move to the next.

“You didn’t even pretend to look.”

“Not at all.” The actress grinned at her. “You’re sweet to fix all that, though I’m certain it’s not in a handler’s job description.”

She wrinkled her nose. She didn’t like the items in her job description, so it wasn’t a hardship doing something different.

“I’m surprised you’re not an accountant or something,” Gigi continued, shifting to balance on one leg. “You really love your spreadsheets.”

She shrugged as she put away the computer. “Most companies require a degree. They aren’t willing to take a girl who had to drop out of college because she got pregnant.”

Frowning, Gigi came out of the pose, her hands on her hips. “That’s not right.”

“It’s the way it is.” She shrugged.

“It doesn’t have to be. They told me I’d never make it in Hollywood. Do you know how many pretty blondes go to Los Angeles and hope to strike it big?”

“A lot?”

“Yes. The only reason I’ve gotten this far is because I won’t take no for an answer.” Gigi pointed at her. “You have what it takes, too. Just decide what you want and don’t stop until you get it.”

Ping
.

“Someone’s trying awfully hard to reach you.” Gigi raised her brow. “Shouldn’t you check that?”

Holly shrugged. “I—”

Her phone rang, and Gigi waved at her. “Answer it,” the actress said as she resumed her yoga practice.

Holly glanced at the caller ID. School. She picked it up, relieved for the first time ever that they were calling her, even if it meant Jamie had probably done something again.

Sure enough, the school’s secretary told her she needed to pick up Jamie because he’d caused another disturbance. She tossed the mobile in her bag. “Gigi, I need to—”

“Go.” The actress frowned at her. “He’s okay though, yes?”

“Until I kill him, yes.” She shook her head and hurried to school.

She took a taxi to school and hurried down the hallway, straight to Peter’s office.

Peter was in the hallway, sitting with Jamie, talking to him. His words were too soft for her to hear.

They both looked up when they heard her footsteps. Jamie’s little face was scrunched with worry. Peter looked serious, except for his eyes, which were laughing.

She relaxed. Whatever Jamie had done couldn’t have been that bad.

“Holly.” Peter stood and gestured to his office.

She gave her son a look and followed the headteacher in. “What did the little animal do this time?” she asked as she set her purse on the floor and sat in her usual chair.

“During recess he decided to build a fort.”

She frowned. “It sounds like a creative idea, but obviously something went wrong.”

“Jamie needed walls for the fort. Because he didn’t have blankets, like he apparently has at home, he covered the desks that he piled up with Mrs. Neuwirth’s gym clothes.” Peter pressed his lips together, but his mouth curved despite himself. “I never realized how, um, voluminous knickers could be.”

Holly covered her mouth with a hand. “Bloody hell.”

He nodded. “That was exactly what Mrs. Neuwirth unleashed when she returned to class and found her sports bra being used as a flag.”

“At least there were no broken windows this time.”

“No, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to suspend him. For a fixed term, of course. Just four days.”

“Four days.” She gaped at Peter. What was she going to do with Jamie for four days? “Can’t anything else be done?”

“I’m afraid my hands are tied.” Peter sat on the edge of his desk, his legs stretched close to hers. “But I do have good news.”

“You found someone to adopt the kid?”

He grinned. “Close. The Athenaeum contacted me today. They wanted to remind us that the first payment is due in a couple weeks.”

Us
. She frowned, liking the sound of it too much. But it only existed in fairy tales, and she gave up believing in fairy tales a long time ago.

Peter touched her foot with his. “Holly, you have money for it, don’t you?”

She thought about the bonus check in the drawer and wrinkled her nose. “I do have some, but I’d rather not use it.”

“Jamie is much better off at the Athenaeum. Their student-to-teacher ratio is much lower. They’ll be able to give Jamie the attention he needs. He needs to go.”

“I know this.”

“Then I don’t understand why you refuse to use your money.”

“It’s blood money.” She winced. “Can I tell you something? Something you can’t tell anyone.”

“You can always talk to me, Holly.”

“The studio wants me to give them gossip about Imogen Summerhill, the actress I’m working with.” At Peter’s perplexed look, she sighed. “They told me if I don’t perform, they’ll fire me. So I gave them something that I thought was innocent, but they made it sound awful and gave me a bonus for it.”

Peter was silent for a long time. Finally he said, “You should tell her.”

“I can’t tell her. I’ll lose my job.”

“But you’re obviously bothered by what happened.”

“Of course I am!” she exclaimed. “I feel wretched. I like Gigi, and I feel like I’ve tattled on her.”

“Telling her would clear your conscience.”

“It’d also cost me the job, and I love working with her. I know it’s ridiculous, because I’m just a lackey for a famous person, but I really enjoy it.” She leaned forward. “It’ll probably sound crazy, but I love her and her family. They’re so wonderful.”

“Isn’t that more reason to come clean?”

“Yes, but …” She shook her head.

Peter took her hand. “If they’re really like family, they’ll forgive you.”

“I don’t know what sort of family you have, but mine is
not
like that.” She frowned. “And the studio will fire me, too.”

Peter nodded. “So there’s still the problem of Jamie’s tuition.”

“I’ll figure it out.” She had no idea how, unless she used the check.

“I can help,” Peter said.

“No.” She shook her head just in case her exclamation wasn’t emphatic enough. “Thank you, but I’ll cover it.”

He crossed his arms. “You just said you can’t.”

“I’ll figure something out.”

Peter stared at her.

Shifting, she averted her gaze.

“I admire how you’ve raised Jamie on your own. I can’t even imagine everything you’ve gone through, and he’s a great kid. What you’ve done is more admirable than most things you could have done with your life. I know you were alone before, but you aren’t now.” He reached out and caressed her hair, loosely holding the back of her head. “You don’t have to do it alone anymore.”

“You’re mad.” She withdrew from him. “We’ve barely kissed and you’re, what? Offering me thousands of pounds? In exchange for what?”

“This isn’t a barter. I want to be part your lives. I
am
part of your lives, whether you admit it or not.”

“You’re Jamie’s headteacher.”

“Is that all I am to you?”

Not at all, but what more could he be? What were they going to do? Date? When would she have time? Why would he want to be saddled with a child who wasn’t his own? “This makes no sense.”

“It makes more sense than anything I’ve ever done before,” Peter said, standing. He pulled her to her feet and kissed her.

It was spicy, made all the more naughty because the entire school was just outside the door. He clenched her close and kissed her as if he had something to prove.

She had to pull away—because she liked it too much, because she was afraid she’d push him onto his desk and rip his clothes off him. She put a hand over her mouth.

Peter held her close. “I wasn’t joking when I said I had a vested interest in Jamie going to the Athenaeum. I’m not going to let you shut me out.”

That was the most delicious threat she’d ever been given.

But she shook her head as she pulled out of his embrace and picked up her bag. “I’ll take Jamie home.”

“I’ll call you.”

She shook her head again, afraid of what she wanted, because it was too good to be true. Life didn’t work that way. Life was hard and pitted against you.

She walked out of the office and waved at Jamie.

She saw the worried look he gave her, but she kept walking. He hurried to catch up, slipping his hand silently in hers.

Her heart melted, but she gave him a stern look. “You’re in trouble, you know.”

“I know, Mum.”

Smiling at how morose he sounded, she squeezed his hand. “Let’s go home.”

Chapter Seventeen

“Have you seen this?” Gigi handed her phone over to Titania as she slid onto the seat across the table.

Her sister picked up the phone, looked at it, and then passed it back. “This headline is ridiculous.”

“Thank you.” Feeling justified, she glared at it one more time.

Is Imogen having her cake and eating it too?

“You don’t eat cake. If they were half-decent reporters, they’d know that,” Titania said, unfolding her napkin onto her lap. “Speaking of, I already ordered for us because I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving,” she muttered as she scanned the article—and she used that word loosely. It claimed that Gigi was stringing Dirk along while she dallied with a new man. “They’re saying I’m a
femme fatale
.”

“Stop reading that.” Titania took the mobile out of Gigi’s hand and shut it down before handing it back. “Put it away. You’re having lunch with me.”

The waitress brought their food: creamy pasta for Titania and a plain salad with chicken for Gigi.

“How do they know I’m seeing someone else?” Gigi asked the moment the waitress left. She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “I tried calling Russell Sherman this morning. He won’t answer my calls. My manager says he won’t return hers either. This is a disaster.”

“You should let me do a photo essay about you,” Titania said as she forked a bite into her mouth.

“Have you been talking to Bea?” Gigi picked up her fork and prodded the unappetizing salad.

“Who’s Bea?”

“Really, Tawny. Our
sister
. Beatrice.”

“Oh.” She scrunched her face. “Why would I talk to Beatrice? She was always bossy. She’s probably even bossier now.”

“You’re making assumptions.”

Titania gave her a flat look, her fork poised halfway to her mouth. “Are you saying Beatrice isn’t bossy?”

“No.”

“Then it’s not an assumption, is it?” She shoveled the pasta in.

Gigi watched her sister eat with her normal abandon and felt a pang of jealousy. Not that she wanted pasta, per se, but it’d been a long time since she’d allowed herself to eat anything for pleasure.

Just until she was back in the game.

“So what do you say?” Titania asked. “Let me do a photo essay on you. I promise to get your good side.”

She moved the greens around her plate. “Do you really think it’ll help?”

“Yes, I think it’ll help. Do you think I’d waste my time?” Her sister shook her head. “Gigi, no one knows the real you. Maybe if you let them see it, they’ll stop speculating about what you’re really like.”

“That’s what Bea said.” She gave Titania a doleful look. “It’s just as well that you two don’t talk. You’d be devastating if you teamed up.”

“Well, that’s never going to happen.” Titania wiped her mouth and wadded up her napkin. She pulled out her camera from the case at her feet. “Tell me about this mystery man you’re seeing.”

“You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the papers,” Gigi said, pushing her salad away. “You know, I think I really hate lettuce.”

“You can’t switch topics on me.” She pointed and adjusted the lens. “He must be special if you’re chancing seeing him when you’re trying to clean up your image.”

Merrick
was
special. More than that, he made
her
feel special. He understood her and her ambitions, and he supported them.

Whenever she thought of his sister her heart just died for him. She tried to imagine what losing Titania would do to her. Incomprehensible.

But he was hurting himself, too, even though he’d never admit it. It was noble—he was noble—but she could see that repressing that part of him that’d been a rock star was going to break him one day.