Panic clawed at her throat and nausea made her stomach swim. Justin was going to freak. Resting her head in her hands, she closed her eyes, felt tears prick each corner behind her lids.
She should’ve told him, she should’ve let him in on it when she’d contemplated telling him the truth. But no, she hadn’t been able to work up the courage, had been too chicken shit to just come right out and say it.
Now she was going to regret her mistake, big time. No way could she redeem herself. She would look like she had something to hide.
And in a way, she had. But not like this. Never like this.
Stephanie waited in agonized anticipation of Justin’s return, hoping against hope he didn’t spot the magazine while at the market. She washed dishes, cleaned the counters and even took out the garbage in order to make the time pass.
But still Justin didn’t show back up.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity she spotted him pulling into the driveway, emerging from his car with a dark expression on his face. He didn’t even bother bringing any bags into the house.
No, but he did have a City magazine clutched in his right hand.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
Breathing deep, she tried to prepare herself for what she knew would be a verbal assault but she was in the dark as to how he would react, what he would say.
So she did the only thing she c
ould think of. Thought of what she would say, how she would explain everything to him. Maybe he would see her perspective, understand where she was coming from, how this all came about.
The door that led to the garage slammed with a tremendous bang and Justin entered the kitchen, all fury and fierceness, stopping just in front of her. His stance was that of a pissed off warrior, his legs spread and with one hand resting on his hip while the other had the magazine clutched tight in his fingers.
“What the fuck is this?” he roared.
* * *
Stephanie flinched at his harsh words but Justin couldn’t stop himself even if he tried. And right now, damn it, he really didn’t want to try.
He wanted some fucking answers. And he wanted them now.
“Tell me, Stephanie, what this article is all about? And why the hell were you writing it and didn’t even bother telling me?”
What a fool he was. Shopping in the local grocery store with pure determination, eager to get back to his house and Stephanie, he’d noticed a few discreet snickers and whispers behind hands but thought nothing of it. The locals treated him as one of their own. They rarely made a big deal about his appearance around town so he was a little surprised by their reactions.
Then when he’d approached the checkout stand and saw that local magazine right there, front and center with a picture of him and Stephanie on the cover, he’d known immediately what they’d been talking about.
Especially when the headline on the front of the magazine fairly screamed the words, Former Baseball Player’s Sexploits Documented!
Embarrassed as hell he’d bought the fucking magazine and nothing else, then sat in his car and tried to read it.
Disgust had filled him with every word he consumed and he’d quit reading, so close to tearing the magazine into shreds. But he’d held onto his control. He knew he had to talk to Stephanie, confront her with this piece of shit and ask her what the hell.
So far, she wasn’t giving him any forthcoming information. Not good.
“I—I was given an opportunity by my editor to write my own column and she wanted it to be about the trials and tribulations of a young and single woman living in San Francisco,” Stephanie finally started, her voice shaky, her gaze unable to meet his.
“Go on.” He dropped the magazine onto the counter where it landed with a loud and final slap. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, trying to control his fury.
“She wanted me to focus on a recent survey the magazine had conducted about the sexual fantasies of men and women. I was at the party that night hoping to meet someone, experiment a little and try out a fantasy or two. She knew I didn’t normally do stuff like that. I swear she set me up to fail and I was about to fail when I ran into you.”
He watched her, noticed how she’d shrunken in to herself with her shoulders hunched and her head bowed.
“And then you acted like you liked me, as if you were attracted me and I thought why not? Why not have wild sex with this man and then walk away from him, never to see him again?
“But that’s not how it worked, you know this. And I continued to write my articles, anonymously, of course. I’d been assured countless times my identity wouldn’t be revealed until finally I realized I couldn’t do it anymore.”