Masquerade (20 page)

Sylvia smiled, catlike, surveying her mouse. “I’m not twisting Alex’s words. Actually
, I’ve softened them to save your feelings. Men can be such cads, you know.”

Clarissa bit back her first response and focus
ed her attention on the girls and their sand heaps. “I don’t think your readers will care about some unknown nanny’s divorce.”

“They will if
Landon is in the middle of it.”

Clarissa’s gaze swung back to Sylvia. “He’s not in the middle of it. I didn’t even meet
Landon until after my divorce.”

Sylvia tilted her head back in a relaxed fashion. “Then why would he tell me the two of you were old friends?”

Because he was doing Slade a favor. But Clarissa couldn’t tell Sylvia that. She didn’t want to bring up Slade’s name in front of this reporter.

Or maybe not. Maybe the best thing to do would be to come clean with the whole story. If she explained the whole situation to Sylvia, then certainly the woman would understand that nothing untoward was going on.

Or maybe it would just give Sylvia more information she could pounce on.

“You and
Landon made quite the couple on the dance floor Friday night,” Sylvia went on. “It was certainly nice of Slade to bring you to the party and leave someone else to watch his daughter.”

“How do you know what went on at the luau?”

“Sources, dear. I have my sources.”

Yes, sources. The thing that was making the cast so edgy. And now whoever was dishing the dirt was aiming his or her shovel at Clarissa.

She clenched her fists so tight her fingernails dug into her palms. “Slade only took me because . . .” Clarissa didn’t finish the sentence. Instead she said, “I thought you promised Landon if he gave you an interview you’d leave me alone.”

“I said I wouldn’t quote you on your opinions about Slade and his daughter, and I won’t. Once you’re working for me, I won’t mention your name at all. You’ll simply be another one of my sources.” Sylvia crossed her legs so that her sandal dangled carelessly from her foot. “So, is it a deal? You give me a more interesting story, and I’ll
never use the one about you and Landon.”

Clarissa match
ed Sylvia’s conversational tone. “That’s blackmail.”

“No, dear, blackmail is when you pay me money to bury a story. Reporting is when the magazine pays me to uncover a story. I’m just reporting.” She smiled at Clarissa, then stood up and collapsed her beach chair. “Think about your story, but don’t contact me. It wouldn’t do, you know, to have people see us talking together. I’ll contact you later.” With that, she turned on her heel and walked away.

Clarissa leaned forward and rubbed her temples. Her head pounded in dull aching throbs that matched the cadence of the waves hitting the shore.

S
he had only wanted a job where she could spend more time with Elaina, and now she was reporter fodder, eyed over by Sylvia like she was destined to be her next meal.

Clarissa let out a slow, jagged breath. She would have to tell Slade everything. There was nothing else to do. Then he’d order her to leave Hawaii on the next flight out, which all in all might not be such a bad idea.

And when the news story broke that Landon McKellips had somehow facilitated the breakup of her marriage, she’d have a good laugh about it with her friends. And hope that none of her friends believed it. And hope that Elaina never read those news clips when she got older. And hope that Alex wouldn’t get any ideas about making her life more miserable because of them. And hope that Sylvia would keep her word and leave Slade completely out of everything. Sylvia, she thought bitterly, one of the good kind of reporters. What did the bad kind of reporters do? Take hostages?

Clarissa let out a small groan. She knew Sylvia would drag Slade into this. And she couldn’t let that happen.

Would it really hurt to give Sylvia some sort of story? After all, she could think of one: “Natalie Granger finally pulls off an Oscar-winning performance—that of devoted girlfriend.” Or perhaps: “Natalie Granger thinks her boyfriend should change his initials from A. J. to H. C. As in, He’s Clueless.”

It was true.
And Natalie deserved it.

Clarissa stared out over the ocean, the story forming in her mind. It would be so easy. The article almost printed itself
. She could see the headlines on the covers of millions of magazines, propped on the shelves in grocery store checkout lines.

Clarissa
knew she couldn’t do it. Not to Natalie. Not to anyone.

Clarissa
inwardly groaned. So it was a trip home and goodbye to the chance of ever seeing Slade again.

There had to be another way.

Maybe she could find a nice story for Sylvia, a story that wouldn’t upset anyone. Maybe Clarissa would get lucky and Slade would rescue someone from a burning building. She would set the fire herself if it would help.

She swallowed hard, feeling like it was she and not Bella who had got a mouthful of sand. Sylvia said she’d check back with her later. Maybe Clarissa could put her off indefinitely. Maybe Clarissa could figure a way out of this. Maybe she
really would stumble onto an upbeat story.

Maybe.

Chapter 23

After stopping by and talking to Landon and Sherry, Slade ran into AJ.

The producer pulled Slade aside and apologized for not getting back in touch with him. “I haven’t had time to read your script yet,” he said. “But I’ll get to it soon. I promise.”

Which could mean anything.

Slade went back to his room and spent some time running over the lines for his
next movie. After a couple hours of listless recitation, he tossed the script down. He couldn’t muster the enthusiasm for work. He was in Hawaii. He wanted to be on vacation. Besides, hadn’t Clarissa told him he needed to give Bella more attention? He would. And he’d take Clarissa along to prove the point.

He walked to Clarissa’s room and
knocked.

She answered
, looking tanner despite all the sunscreen she constantly toted around. Or maybe it wasn’t a tan. Her skin just had a healthy glow to it. She always had a way of looking wholesome and fresh.

“Time Machine’s reading is still set in the future,” he said. “Let’s take the kids and go to
Hanauma Bay. No point in sticking around here when we can go grind sand into our clothes.”

“Sounds fun,” she said. “Although I already took the girls to the beach this morning—”

She didn’t get to finish. Bella grabbed Slade’s pant leg, already jumping with excitement. “We get to go to the beach again?”

And so they went. Meredith came
too. Her Idahoan banker had left the night before, and she didn’t want to be by herself. They snorkeled for a bit; then while Slade and Clarissa sat on towels watching the girls play, Meredith languished nearby on a low beach chair. She wore an oversized straw hat and sunglasses, and as she ran her fingers through the sand, she sighed a lot.

“It isn’t as though Idaho is that far away from California,” Slade told her. “I can give you the time off to fly over and see him.”

“I know,” Meredith said, “but everything is so difficult when you have a long-distance relationship. You have to decide whether you want to work at it. You have to figure out if it’s worth the commitment up front.” She picked up her hand and let a stream of sand pour through her fingers. “Speaking of long-distance relationships, your new girlfriend, Kim, e-mailed back.”

“She’s not my girlfriend
, yet,” Slade said. “At least she doesn’t know she’s going to the party as my girlfriend, yet, so don’t mention it to her over the Internet.”

Clarissa
cocked her head at him. “And when were you planning on telling her that she’s your girlfriend?”

“Don’t you start on me
too,” he said. “I’m not being egotistical; I’m being cautious. It’s better to explain these things in person. I’ll tell her on the way to the party.”

Clarissa looked over at Meredith and mouthed the word egotistical to her.

Meredith nodded in agreement. “You’re far too sure of yourself, Slade, and it would serve you right if she’s as ugly as a troll underneath her Cat Woman costume.”

“Her Cat Woman costume?” Slade asked.

“Yes, she wrote back that she’ll bring her Cat Woman costume to Hawaii. On the night of the masquerade, she’ll be in the lobby of the Sunset Park Motel purring for you.”

“I bet she’s gorgeous,” Clarissa told Meredith with a conspiratorial air. “Gorgeous women are the only ones brave enough to purr.”

Meredith nodded again. “She’s probably tall, blonde, and stunning—and in that case I hope she’s eight months pregnant and Slade has to explain to everyone that she’s not really his girlfriend.”

“She’s brunette,” Slade said, “and I’m sorry to disappoint you two, but I don’t think they make Cat Woman maternity wear.”

Clarissa leaned toward Meredith. “He’s not at all worried. I bet they’ve been sending pictures to each other. She’s tall, brunette, stunning, and skinny.”

Slade had heard women use the same tone of voice that Clarissa
used now, and it always meant one thing. Jealousy.

Part of him knew Clariss
a wasn’t really jealous of Kim. Another part of him sat back and enjoyed the feeling anyway. “I’ve never seen a picture of Kim, and I wouldn’t know her if I walked past her on the street. In my mind’s eye she is still ten years old.” Then he smiled graciously at Clarissa and Meredith. “Some people, those who aren’t catlike—or catty—know there are more important things about people than their looks.”

“
That’s us,” Meredith said, waving his words away with a flick of her hand. “Catty to the core.”

“Meow,” Clarissa
agreed. “I think it’s time for me to go check on the kittens.”

She stood up and walked across the sand to where the girls were stockpiling their beach findings. Slade watched her go, letting his eyes trace the lines of her figure. Her long legs. The curve of her hips and waist.
Had it only been this afternoon that he’d thought Clarissa always looked wholesome?

Wholesome wasn’t the word to describe that swimming suit.

He stared at it until he remembered she was married, and then he forced himself to look at Clarissa’s face instead. She sat down on the sand by the girls, and they both chattered up at her happily. She smiled back at them, exclaiming over each of their treasures. She had such a nice smile. Warm. Enthusiastic. It brightened her face and made you think of sunshine.

“You’re staring,” Meredith said.

Slade turned to her. “What?”

“You’re staring at Clarissa,” she said. “And smiling.”

“I’m happy I chose her. She’s a good nanny for Bella.”

Meredith nodded. “And Bella must like her because she hasn’t run her off yet.”

“Of course Bella likes her,” he said. “She’s kind, intelligent, patient, beautiful . . .”

“Beautiful?” Meredith asked. “What does
beauty have to do with being a good nanny?”

“Nothing. I was just lis
ting off her qualities.”

Meredith sat up a bit in her beach chair. “Slade, this would be a good time to stop and think about what you’re doing.”

“I’m not doing anything,” he said. “I’m not interested in Clarissa. I just want someone like her. I’m figuring out the criteria for my next girlfriend.” His eyes settled back on Clarissa. The wind picked up strands of her hair and blew them around her face. He was mesmerized by the way the sunlight glinted off it.

From beside him Meredith let out an unhappy grunt. “You’re smiling again.”

“I’m a happy person.”

Meredith pulled a newspaper from her beach bag. “I guess I’d better familiarize myself with the paper’s format,” she said. “That way it will be easier to spot the reports on your latest scandals.”

“There aren’t going to be any scandals.” He honestly meant it. Clarissa was off limits. He was simply admiring her. Just like he admired Serena Williams’s serve and Celine Dion’s vocal range. He wasn’t planning on making advances toward either of those women, just like he would never think of making an advance on Clarissa. He was only appreciating her good qualities. Some of which were accentuated by that swimming suit.

He reminded himself it was only admiration several times as the day went on. Like when he found himself watching Clarissa with the girls and daydreaming about how nice it would be if she were there for Bella all the time. And when
Clarissa smiled at him in that easy, relaxed way. And when he was appreciating Clarissa’s legs. They were fine, fine qualities.

After a dinner of fish and chips, they drove back to the resort. The girls were dirty and tired by then, and Clarissa held their hands, guiding them as they walked into the lobby. “
Careful not to touch anything,” she said, steering them around the couch. “And don’t bump into anything, either.”

The clerk at the front desk watched them come in and then called over. “Ms. Hancock?”

Clarissa looked up. “Yes?”

“Some flowers came for you. You weren’t in your room, so the
delivery man left them here.” She pointed to a vase containing a dozen red roses.

“Oh.” For a moment Clarissa
just stared at them.

Slade took Bella’s and Elaina’s hands. “I’ve got the girls,” he said. “
Go get your flowers.”

Clarissa went to the counter, took the envelope from the flowers and read the card.

“Are they from your husband?” Slade tried to make the question sound casual, but even to him it had a sort of pointed sharpness to it. He didn’t want to see Clarissa go dreamy-eyed and start missing her husband.

Instead of answering his question, Clarissa handed him the card. He read out loud, “Clarissa, I’m sure you’re working like Cinderella
. I doubt your fairy godmother will show up on the night of the ball. Expect a visit from Zorro instead.”

“I don’t think my husband sent the flowers,” Clarissa said.

Slade handed her the card. “Have you been encouraging Zorro again?”

“I haven’t even talked to Zorro since you chased him out of my room.”

Slade let out an unhappy grumble. “Well, you had better keep your door locked Halloween night. And for that matter, you’d better keep it locked every night.”

Meredith folded her arms. “I never get flowers anymore. You’d think Bill might have sent me some. But no. Only Zorro sends flowers. How can I have a long-distance relationship with a man like that?”

Clarissa handed Meredith the vase. “Here, on behalf of the Bills of the world, let me give you these flowers. The friendship of one sincere man is better than all the attention in the world from a Zorro.”

Meredith held the flowers to her face and inhaled the fragrance of the roses. “Yes, well, I suppose you have a point.” She smiled
wistfully. “Still, flowers are lovely. I have half a mind to go after Landon myself.” She turned to Slade. “Do you think he’s my type?”

“No.” Slade herd
ed Bella and Elaina across the lobby toward the elevator.

Meredith followed after him slowly. “I don’t see why not. Some men appreciate the maturity and grace of an older woman.” She took another whiff of the flowers as she walked. “Besides, you work me like a Cinderella too.”

“Not true,” Slade said. “I’ve barely seen you this whole trip.”

“That’s because you’ve had Clarissa to abuse.” Meredith looked over at Clarissa. “You know, dear, if you’d like to go do something tonight, I’ll watch Elaina for you.”

Clarissa smiled at her. “Thanks. I’d like that.”

Slade didn’t like it.
He had visions of Clarissa taking a solitary walk around the resort and Landon suddenly intercepting her. Landon and his charm and his ulterior motives. It didn’t matter that Clarissa had been warned about him. That was the thing about Landon. Women knew he was a player and still succumbed to him anyway.

It would be better if they
all stayed in and watched something on TV. He would have suggested it, but by this time Clarissa and Meredith were busily engaged in a conversation about masquerade costumes. At least he thought they were talking about masquerade costumes. When he heard two women using terms like “period clothing,” he just didn’t want to ask.