When Lightning Strikes (19 page)

“Simon—”

“But I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fine. Let’s just…” She swallowed hard, feeling at a loss
because she was frustrated, too, even torn. “Pretend nothing happened,” she
finished. “Come on.”

Picking up the remote, Simon snapped off the TV and followed
her through the kitchen. They were just stepping outside when Kathy called.

“Is it true?” the Realtor squealed.

Distracted by Simon, who insisted on driving even though she
thought she should probably do it this time, since she knew her way around, Gail
didn’t immediately understand what Kathy meant. “Is what true?”

“That you married
Simon
O’Neal?
”

Sometimes Gail couldn’t believe it herself. “Yes.”

“Oh, my God!” Kathy shouted. “Oh, my God! Oh, my God!”

“Kathy—”

“What’s it like to sleep with him?” she asked.

Gail froze. This was the last question she’d expected from
middle-aged, happily married Kathy Carmichael. Simon was so famous, people
thought they had some sort of claim on him, which gave them the impression they
had the right to ask such personal questions.

Simon had obviously overheard. He glanced up to see what her
response would be.

“He’s not all he’s cracked up to be.” She wasn’t sure why she
said that; she just couldn’t stop herself from needling him.

Whatever Kathy said was lost on Gail, who was too focused on
Simon.

“You keep saying stuff like that and you’re going to
have
to give me the chance to prove you wrong,” he
told her.

Which was exactly what she wanted him to do. She was just
afraid of what might come after. “Kidding!” she told Kathy. “He’s amazing, of
course. Just looking at him makes me drool.” She stuck her tongue out so he
wouldn’t take that seriously.

“The truth at last,” he murmured sarcastically.

“Lord, you and me both, honey,” Kathy was saying. “I’ve seen
Shiver
at least half a dozen times. The way he
makes love to Tomica Kansas in that movie is beyond anything I’ve ever seen. All
I have to do is hear the musical score and…” Her voice softened. “Oh, my.”

Gail didn’t want to think of that movie but the images danced
through her brain, anyway. “Don’t hold your husband accountable if he can’t
duplicate that scene,” she said. “I’m sure the director had a lot to do with it.
And the music. And the magic of make-believe. Sex is never messy on screen.”

Simon settled behind the wheel of her car. “Keep talking. You
might actually believe it one day.”

She couldn’t respond to him. Kathy was murmuring, “You’re one
lucky girl, darlin’. That’s all I’m saying.”

Eager to change the subject before she had to hear any more,
Gail cleared her throat. “Thanks. Do you know of any places we can rent for
three months, Kathy?”

“Only one that’s good enough for Simon.”

Gail covered the phone. “Did you hear that?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Sounds hopeful.”

“I’d better not run into this very often,” she told him.

He raised a questioning eyebrow.

“The way people gush over you is so ridiculous it makes me
sick.”

“Is that why you’re looking at me as if you’d like to tear my
clothes off?”

She gaped at him. How could he see through her so easily?
“You’re
so
conceited!”

“What did you say?” Kathy asked while he laughed.

She removed her hand from the phone. “Sorry, I was talking to
Simon. I told him you have just the place.”

“I do,” she said. “It’s the old Doman mansion. You know it,
don’t you?”

“Of course. But…that’s up for rent?”

“For sale. Why would someone like Simon pay rent, especially in
your hometown, where you’ll be coming again and again? This is pocket change for
him.”

That diamond guy had felt he should be able to tell Simon how
to spend his money, too. “How much pocket change?”

“Two-point-five million. It’s an entire compound, with ten
acres and stables and everything.”

“We’ll take it.” Simon was still listening in, but Gail had no
interest in buying the old Doman place.

“I’m afraid that won’t work,” she told Kathy. “It’s far more
than we’re willing to take on. Simon wants to get a piece of land and build us a
house, but for now we just need something small and cozy, something temporary
and a lot less work.”

“Oh.” Kathy seemed disappointed.

“If she doesn’t have anything small and cozy, we’re taking the
Doman place,” Simon informed Gail.

Gail gestured for him to be quiet.

“Well, in that case—” Kathy hesitated. “Meet me at the office.
I can show you a couple of possibilities, but…there’s not much on the market
right now.”

“I understand. We’re on our way.” With a triumphant smile, Gail
hit the end button.

“What’s wrong with the Doman place?” Simon asked, scowling.
“Kathy seemed to think it would be perfect for me.”

Gail fastened her seat belt. “You trust her more than you do
me?”

“Hell, yeah,” he said. “At least she recognizes a good love
scene when she sees one.”

“That love scene was…generic,” she responded, but it was a lie,
and they both knew it. That love scene was one of the best to ever hit the
screen. Every time Gail climbed into bed with Simon she had to face the memory
of his perfect mouth moving down Tomica Kansas’s flat stomach....

His gaze lowered to her breasts. “That’s not what your body is
telling me.”

She resisted the urge to fold her arms over the evidence of her
arousal. “I’m not Tomica Kansas.” She had to keep the distinction between her,
at Plain Jane status, and the femme fatales who starred in his movies clear in
her mind.

“You could’ve been fifteen minutes ago,” he said, but he was no
longer looking at her. He was checking the road as he backed out of the
drive.

19

“T
his is it?” Simon didn’t seem impressed
with the house Gail wanted.

“What’s wrong with it?” she asked.

He waited until Kathy was out of earshot. She’d gotten a call
and was heading to her car for an address. “It’s a two-bedroom, one bath that
was built in 1880.”

“So?”

“It’s functionally obsolete.”

“No, it’s not.”

“The only bathroom is in the hall, Gail. And it has a claw-foot
bathtub. There isn’t even a shower.”

She rolled her eyes. “There’s a shower head above the tub and a
curtain you can pull around.”

Obviously he’d seen the makeshift shower. He just didn’t think
it was an acceptable arrangement. “I don’t want to have to stand in one place
and turn in a tight circle. The entire bathroom is half the size of a normal
closet!”

“By L.A. standards, maybe. But we’re not in L.A. anymore.”

He gave her a pained look. “I think I’m clear on that.”

“We’re not going to be here long,” she said, trying to convince
him. “We can get by with this place, can’t we?”

After glancing into both bedrooms and the bathroom again, he
sighed. “There has to be something else. This is barely…what did she say? Eight
hundred square feet?”

“Eight hundred and seventy-five.” She shoved the flyer at him,
but he didn’t take it.

Crossing his arms, he leaned dejectedly against the wall. “It’s
the size of my bedroom back home.”

“But you heard Kathy. This is our last option. There are no
rentals, and we saw the only other houses on the market. Neither of them were as
nice.”

“That first one was bigger,” he grumbled. “We could fix it
up.”

“It was right in town. We don’t want neighbors, do we?
Certainly not nosy neighbors, and there isn’t any other kind in Whiskey Creek.
Here, we’d have some privacy. Better yet, we’d each have our own bedroom.”

He turned to face her. “Being told I’ll be sleeping alone?
That’s supposed to convince me?”

She grinned. “Convinces me.”

He lowered his voice. “Only because you’re
scared.
”

“Of what?” she scoffed, but immediately regretted it when he
cocked his head as if he had no intention of backing down.

“Of me. Of how much you might enjoy my hands on your body. Of
what it might feel like to lose control.”

She swallowed hard. “I’m not scared,” she lied. “I’m just…not
stupid enough to…” To what? To get too comfortable in a marriage that wasn’t
going to last?

He shot her a sullen glance. “To get involved with me?”

“I’m already involved with you. That’s not what I was about to
say.”

“There’s another way of looking at it, you know.”

“Which is…”

“My way.”

“Let me guess. You think I should let you use me until you’re
ready to move on.”

“I’m offering you two years of endless orgasms. Why reject that
out of hand?” He poked her. “You need an orgasm more than any woman I’ve ever
known.”

She stepped out of reach. “Quit treating me like I’m
frigid!”

He lifted his hands. “Whoa, no need to get defensive. I wasn’t
implying that.”

“But you think it.”

“I think you’re too uptight. But you have nothing to worry
about. I’ll take care of you.”

He thought she was denying them both for no good reason. But he
didn’t understand what was at stake. How could he? Maybe sex meant nothing more
than a fun time to him, but she wasn’t built that way. “I might be uptight but
I’m not shortsighted.”

“Typically not,” he said. “So why are you renting a house with
only one bathroom?”

Arguing about sex
and
the number of
bathrooms in their first rental made her feel more married than she’d felt
before. “We’ll have to share it but…otherwise, this house is perfect.”

Hands on his lean hips, he turned in a circle.

“Okay, it’s quaint, but quaint is good enough.” She drew him
back to the living room, with its high ceiling, crown molding and hardwood
floors. “Look at this place. Look at the fireplace mantel. It has so much
character.”

“I like the porch,” he admitted, gazing through the gigantic
front windows with the diamond-shaped cut-glass inserts above them.

“I
love
the porch,” she said. “It’s
almost as big as the living room. Imagine sitting out there with a glass of iced
tea as the sun goes down. Summers in Whiskey Creek are so gorgeous. And the
kitchen’s got potential,” she added.

He followed her around the corner. “If someone were to gut it
and completely redo it, maybe.” He eyed the lime-green cupboards. “These
cabinets are hideous.”

“It wouldn’t be that hard to renovate,” she said. “Maybe we
should remodel instead of build.”

The screen door slammed as Kathy came back in. “So? What do you
think?” she asked when she found them, but she had eyes only for Simon. What
Gail thought didn’t matter.

Simon stared at Gail for several seconds, during which she
silently pleaded with him. Then he shifted his attention to Kathy. “We’ll take
it.”

“You want to make an offer?”

“Give them their asking price,” he said. “It’s not much.”

Gail had begun to figure out that Simon was a pushover when it
came to money and possessions. She was pretty sure she could get just about
anything out of him. His willingness to buy her a half-million-dollar diamond
was proof. So she wasn’t surprised that he’d let her have the house even though
he didn’t want it and that he’d agreed to the original price. She was surprised,
however, when he leaned over and brushed a kiss across her lips. It was a loving
gesture manufactured for Kathy’s benefit, of course. They’d been holding hands
for most of the day; it was beginning to feel natural. But that kiss. It was
nothing, a split second of contact, and yet it stole Gail’s breath.

She glanced up to see if he was laughing at her, if he realized
how much she’d liked it, but he turned away before she could ascertain what he
might be thinking.

“When can we move in?” he asked.

* * *

That night Gail made a Caesar salad, pasta and garlic
bread. The cream sauce for the pasta had onions and peas and bacon. Simon liked
it. But sitting at the table with Martin and Joe DeMarco, who were home from
work for the evening, was a silent and awkward affair.

Gail must’ve said something to them about how they’d treated
him so far, because they were on their best behavior. Martin no longer shook his
head in disgust whenever he glanced at Simon, and Joe didn’t seem so hostile,
either. Both men bent their heads over their plates and shoveled in their food
as if they were sitting at the table alone.

“Would you like some more garlic bread?” Gail asked Simon.

He looked up from his own plate. “No, thanks.”

This polite exchange aside, Simon thought they’d go the whole
meal without any conversation. Which was fine with him. He didn’t have a lot to
say to her family, anyway.

But then Martin wiped his mouth, tossed his napkin on the table
and spoke. To
him
.

“What do you think of Whiskey Creek?” he asked.

There was a bottle of Napa Valley wine sitting on the counter.
Simon had been given a glass of soda. Gail had poured herself a soda, too. But
he could smell the wine from where he sat. “I like it.”

“Great place to raise a family.”

Was he referring to
his
having
raised a family here? Or was he fishing to see if Simon and Gail planned to have
children?

Simon supposed it was natural that the old man might hope for
another grandchild. But even if they hadn’t already made provisions for their
divorce, even if he could get Gail to sleep with him, Simon would insist on
using some form of birth control. Never again would he hand a woman a weapon as
powerful as a child. Love was far too fickle.

“I’d like to bring my son here sometime.” He’d sidestepped what
he suspected might be the real issue, but he couldn’t be faulted for what he’d
said.

Joe nodded. “I was wondering if we’d get to meet him. My
daughters come every other weekend.”

Simon twirled another forkful of pasta but didn’t bring it to
his mouth. “Where do they live the rest of the time?”

If Joe recalled Simon’s earlier words about his divorce, he
seemed willing to let bygones by bygones. “In Sacramento. Their mother’s a nurse
at UC Davis.”

“How old are they?”

People with children loved to talk about them, and Joe was no
different. He took a couple of pictures out of his wallet. “This is Summer.
She’s ten.” His face split into the proudest of grins. “And this little devil’s
Josephine. She’s only seven, but she’s a spitfire.”

“Like her mother,” Martin added dryly.

Joe clicked his tongue. “Yeah, her mother’s something
else.”

Simon got the impression that wasn’t a compliment.

He looked at the pictures long enough to seem interested, even
though he didn’t want to become embroiled in the family dynamic. “They’re pretty
girls. You’re going to have your hands full when they get older.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Joe said.

“You planning to do another movie soon?” This question came
from Martin.

“I’m thinking of accepting another romantic thriller in March,
one called
Last Train to Georgia.
”

“A thriller, huh? Sort of like
Shiver?
” Joe asked.

Simon couldn’t help glancing at Gail. She was definitely
familiar with his work in that movie. She turned red every time someone
mentioned it, which made him want to laugh. If only she knew how hard he’d
worked to get that love scene right. Tomica, the actress he’d been paired with,
had worn the same perfume as his mother, which made it revolting for him to kiss
her. He was proud of his performance simply because no one seemed to be aware of
his repugnance. He’d considered demanding they hold off and shoot another day,
but it would’ve cost the production company a shitload of money. “More or
less.”

“Who else is in the new one?” Joe asked.

“An actress by the name of Viola Hilliard-Paul.”

Joe washed his food down with a sip of his wine. “Never heard
of her.”

“She’s new. But she’s got talent.” And she didn’t remind him of
his mother. He had slept with Vi a number of times—although he couldn’t remember
whether he’d enjoyed it. He’d been drunk more often than not and had broken it
off the minute she began taking it seriously.

Joe looked at Gail. “How are you going to feel about your
husband doing love scenes, baby sister?”

She got up to put some more bread on the table. “He’s an actor.
That comes with the territory.”

“You won’t be jealous?”

“Why would I? It’s not real.”

Martin lifted his glass. “Better not be,” he muttered.

Gail promptly changed the subject. “We found a place to live
today.”

“Where at?” Joe signaled for more wine, and since Gail had just
filled Martin’s glass, she came around to pour it.

“You know that little Victorian where the Widow Nelson used to
live?”

“The white one? All by itself at the end of Autumn Lane?”

“That’s it.”

A nostalgic smile curved Joe’s lips. “How could I forget? She
used to give out caramel apples at Halloween.”

“Yeah, her place was always our first stop,” Gail said.

Apparently in this area they didn’t have to worry about someone
putting razor blades in the apples. That was definitely an upside to such a
small community.
Another
upside. Simon was finding
quite a few of them.

Martin pushed back his chair. “I thought you wanted to rent.
That house is up for sale.”

“We’ve decided to buy,” Gail informed him as she put the wine
back on the counter.

“How much are they asking?”

Simon tried not to let his eyes latch on to the bottle. “Two
hundred and fifty thousand.”

“That’s not bad,” Martin told him, “considering the land.”

“The house needs some work,” Gail said.

Joe carried his plate to the sink. “You could have Riley fix it
up before you move in.”

Gail motioned in Simon’s direction. “Actually, Simon is
planning to do the renovations once he gets his stitches out. He’s very good
with his hands.” She cleared her throat when she realized how that had sounded.
“With wood,” she clarified.

Joe turned off the faucet and set his plate on the counter.
“Holler if you need any help with that,” he said to Simon. “I’m not so bad with
my hands, either.” He grinned at Gail but seemed serious about the offer of
help.

“Will do.” Simon relaxed despite the relentless pull of the
alcohol. There was something about Whiskey Creek
and
its people. Even with a wife who wouldn’t let him touch her and the doubt Gail’s
father and brother had to be feeling about their marriage, Simon was beginning
to feel comfortable. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t felt this good, this
whole,
in months.

Maybe he was through the worst of it, he thought.

But then he got another text from Bella.

* * *

Gail could tell this night wasn’t going to go as well as
the last one. Simon had been fine for most of the day. Better than she’d ever
seen him. There’d been times when they’d talked and laughed as if he was just an
average person and not a celebrity desperate to recover his son.

But now he was restless, fidgety. He couldn’t seem to shut down
and sleep. After tossing and turning for a while, he seemed to doze off. But
when she woke sometime during the night, she found him standing at the window,
gazing pensively out into the yard.

“Is anything wrong?” she mumbled.

He glanced over his shoulder. He was still wearing the pajama
bottoms he’d had on earlier but not his T-shirt. Gail had no idea where that had
gone.

“No. You can go back to sleep,” he said.

Unwilling to leave him up alone, she slid over to his side of
the bed. Getting closer to him meant she could keep her voice down. “We could
talk, if you like.”