Redemption (8 page)

She lifted a shoulder. “I suppose I was something of an introvert.”

“An introvert?” He laughed, incredulous. “The next day you were taking your clothes off for the camera!”

“On your advice, I might add!”

“I agreed with the director that it was crucial to the scene. But you could have refused. No one would have blamed you.”

“Oh, for God’s sake! How can you be so hypocritical?”

“
I’m
hypocritical? You were the one acting as if you had never taken your clothes off in front of a camera.” His lips twisted in irony. “Imagine my surprise when all those photos turned up.”

“They were doctored! I’ve never posed nude before!” She felt color flame along her throat. “I modeled lingerie—demure bras and panties for a staid department-store catalog.”

Her hand covered her mouth as she remembered the shame, the mortification she’d felt when she’d seen what the tabloids had done with those photos. It was those photos, taken during a modeling gig to earn extra money, which had landed her the role of Vanessa. The photographer had mailed them to his friend, a Hollywood agent. A few weeks later, Claire found herself on the set of
Bed of Roses
, filling in for an actress with a drug problem, and she was as unprepared for the minor role as she’d been for an affair with an up-and-coming actor named Matt Grayson.

When Matt spoke, his voice was quiet. “So you got screwed. First by me, then by the press.”

“That about sums it up,” she said lightly, swallowing the bitterness.

“For what it’s worth,” he told her, “I had no idea they had come down so hard on you. It was a while before I got around to even reading the papers. When I finally did, they had already crucified you—us,” he amended.

Claire closed her eyes, wishing he would stop digging up memories better left buried.

“We were both branded with the scarlet A, weren’t we?” Matt laughed. “Despite the fact Hayley and I weren’t even married.”

She hadn’t known of his relationship with Hayley James at the time she met him; she was shocked when she read about it in the papers later. She hadn’t wanted to believe it, but remembering the last time she had seen Matt, slumped in the chair at the police station, so racked by grief he hadn’t even noticed her, Claire had no choice but to accept it. It had hurt at the time, but after reading the full account of their love affair in the papers, she had understood. Or thought she had.

“There were rumors, later,” she said finally, curiosity getting the better of her. “That you had been married in Vegas. Before the film began.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “And last month I was supposedly shacking up with Snooki,” he said, then sobered. “Claire,” he continued, earnestly, “there are a lot of things you don’t know, things about my relationship with Hayley.”

She waved a hand, as if batting a pesky fly. “It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago. Believe it or not, I’ve managed to forget all about it,” she said with a careful little laugh.

“Oh yeah? All of it?” He gave her a calculating look, and she realized he was a more experienced opponent than she’d thought yesterday. “That’s why you don’t want us here, isn’t it? Because you don’t want it all dredged up again.”

She gave him a cool look. “There are lots of reasons I don’t want your film crew in my store. Most of them have nothing at all to do with what happened ten years ago.”

“Come on. It’s a damn good deal for your store,” he argued. “Especially after the perks I threw in yesterday.”

“I disagree. Just the thought of having a film crew in here…” She shuddered. “My God, the potential damage to the premises alone is—”

“The only damage you’re worried about is to yourself,” Matt declared. “You’ve built a nice, tidy life here, haven’t you? And now you think all that will come crashing down around your pretty little ears.”

“Oh, please. I can do without the sexist comments.”

“Sexist comment?” He started to protest, then lowered his voice suggestively. “Honey,” he drawled, “if you want to hear a sexist comment—” He lingered for a moment on the V of her neckline.

She could feel her cheeks stain pink. She wanted to scream but settled for sending him a look designed to chill boiling lava.

He leaned over the desk, his green eyes too warm, too knowing. “What happened to you? Where’s that passionate, vibrant creature who melted the camera lens every time she let out a breath? What happened to the warm-blooded woman I couldn’t seem to keep my hands off of—even though I knew I should?”

He raked a hand through his hair in frustration. “Goddamn it, Claire, you used to be a living, breathing woman, not some…bloodless statue that belongs in the art museum.”

“How dare you,” she said, holding her voice still despite her trembling knees. “What right have you to come here and accuse me of lacking something—some vital ingredient—when you’re the one who obviously lacked any kind of morals? You slept with another woman when you were engaged to be married—”

“That’s not true,” he said, cutting her short. “We had talked about marriage, sure, but that was before—” He stopped, as if reluctant to divulge all the details of his and Hayley’s relationship, a relationship that had been dissected thoroughly in the press after her death. “Oh, hell, what difference does it make now?” He turned away, his gaze landing on the painting of Kaslow’s fountain.

“None whatsoever,” Claire said briskly, wishing he would leave before any more damage was inflicted. “As I said, I’ve put it all behind me. Gone on with my life. I would prefer to have no more reminders.”

He turned to face her. “Sorry, but I’m not going to disappear, at least not for the next few months. I’ve got a film to make here. After that, I’ll be crawling back to the ‘den of iniquity’ you seem to think I inhabit. All I want is a few days’ access to this place.”

Claire could only stare at him, astonished.

“I’ll make sure I stay out of your way,” he went on, ignoring her outrage. “No one from the crew will realize who you are. Hell, it took me a few hours to catch on, you’ve changed so much.”

“You honestly think I would let you—”

“You’re not the only one on the board. The others seemed more than ready to sign on the dotted line.”

It was true, she knew. Especially after they got a glimpse of the reworked contract.

He noticed her hesitation. “It’s a great deal for Kaslow’s. And I’m sure your lawyers have been over that contract like bees on a honeycomb. As soon as your board approves it, I’ll be out of your hair.”

She closed her eyes, a feeling of resignation creeping through her. There really was no argument she could make, at least not one that would be convincing. And with the stakes so high, much higher than he knew, she couldn’t afford to raise his suspicions further.

But maybe she could salvage a guarantee.

She tilted her chin, giving him a calculating look. “I don’t want the press anywhere near while you’re filming. We’ve just gone through a rather unpleasant buyout here, aside from the fact that I would prefer for personal reasons to remain…anonymous.”

“No problem. I was planning on having a closed set anyway.”

“And everything else we discussed?”

He raised his hand, as if swearing. “Every last ‘i’ dotted.”

“And you’ll keep absolutely quiet about…our past relationship? I mean you’ll tell no one, not your best friend, your mother, your girlfriend—”

He gave her a sheepish look, then admitted, “I was bluffing earlier about calling your boss. Your secret’s safe with me. Although I still think we ought to…” He paused but then apparently decided to ignore any impulse to dig deeper. “I’m not going to blow your cover. You’ve got my word on that.”

She believed him, though she couldn’t fathom why. There was just such an honesty about him, a non-negotiable code of ethics, and when she remembered that she was the one on shaky ethical ground, she blinked.

“You keep your end of the deal, and I’ll have the contracts signed today.”

“Great. I’d like to get inside tonight, after the place closes. Look around, set up shots.”

She only had to think a moment before agreeing to the request. The sooner he got out of town, the sooner she could breathe easy. “I’ll make sure there’s someone to let you in. I take it there’s no more need for secrecy?”

“Actually, as long as you can keep this to yourself, I’d appreciate it. As soon as word gets out I’m involved in this project…” He shrugged. “All hell tends to break loose. You know how it is.”

Unfortunately, she knew all too well. She agreed, then rose from her desk to escort him from the room. As he passed her secretary’s desk, she called out from the doorway. “Matt.”

He stopped, his hand on the door.

“I…I just wanted to say…this is probably a little late,” she said, settling her gaze somewhere in the vicinity of his knees. “But I just wanted you to know…I’m sorry. About Hayley. I read that she was…pregnant when she died.”

“You didn’t have to read it. She made it pretty clear just before—” He stopped, a bleak look shadowing his face. “Remember? You were there too.”

When he was gone, Claire stood frozen by the door. Then she whispered to no one: “No, really, Matt, I don’t remember.”

Chapter Five

From the
Philadelphia Inquirer

Rocky VI
? No, this sweat-suited celebrity is Matt Grayson, star of the just released
Jungle Fever
. Grayson, in town to film his latest picture,
Lyin’ Hearts
, was spotted jogging along Wissahickon Creek.

Lyin’ Hearts
, a romantic comedy co-starring Laura Hayes, will be filmed in and around certain Philadelphia landmarks, including Kaslow’s Department Store, which reportedly will pocket a share of the profits.

A Kaslow’s spokeswoman declined to comment on the rumor.

C
LAIRE
L
OOKED
A
ROUND
T
HE
C
ONFERENCE
T
ABLE
, noting the attentive demeanor of the other board members. It was the first board meeting of the new year, and finally, she felt she’d been accepted as a real member of the team, not just a watchdog for the Forrest Group.

She had counted only one yawn, one surreptitious glance at a watch, and one nervous fidget since she began speaking. She settled her gaze on Bernard Kaslow at the head of the table and directed her remaining comments to him.

“If we want to capture the shopper’s attention, we have to offer exclusivity. They can always get similar products at a lower price from the discounter selling out of a concrete box. But if they want a shopping experience that includes our own unique amenities—concierge service, designer chocolate kiosks, free alterations, customer delivery, comfortable chairs in the retail areas—then we have a chance at grabbing them.

“And if we offer exclusive products,” she continued, “a brand of jeans no one else carries, or a line of cookware not stocked in the other department stores, for example, we can count on a return visit. But our buyers must have first-hand knowledge of what the customer wants, to prevent future markdowns that are killing our profit margin.”

And that was the bottom line. The different department heads were so often intent on maximizing their own department’s performance that they forgot the reason they existed in the first place. Claire saw it as her job to make them aware of the overall picture whenever possible, a task that often overlapped boundaries. At various times she found herself expounding on the intricacies of marketing, the esthetics of store design, or the finer points of customer service, but she constantly emphasized the bottom line.

“Aren’t we shooting ourselves in the foot by operating Kaslow’s Closet at our downtown store?” Chester Wheaton asked. “Our customers have to know they can sooner or later find an item marked down in the basement.”

“I agree.” Evan Kaslow sent a snide smile around the table. “We’re giving customers a mixed message: Shop our store for quality, and buy your bargains in the basement.”

“Yet it still gets that price-oriented customer into the store,” Claire replied, resisting the urge to recite the retail statistics she’d learned in Management 101. “She may browse through the basement, but when she sees what exciting things are happening upstairs, she’ll stop and linger. Spritz on our exclusive perfume, schedule a visit to the fifth-floor spa, sit in our comfortable chairs and enjoy the string quartet on Thursdays. Shopping at Kaslow’s is still the best entertainment in town.”

“That will certainly be true this week,” Bob Berry inserted. “Too bad we can’t leave the store open while Matt Grayson is filming here. That would bring the customers pouring in.”

Chuckles of agreement echoed around the table.

Claire’s reply was sharper than normal. “Stargazers, not customers. More interested in getting an autograph than checking out our new spring apparel.”

The head of security, Leon Griffin, looked up. “That reminds me…We’ve got a potential problem as far as security’s concerned. There’ll be upwards of a hundred of their crew roaming the premises. They’re providing their own security, but they don’t know the first thing about inventory control. I’m afraid our merchandise will start walking out of here.”