Beauty and Her Boss

“And that made you laugh.”

“Yes, I guess it did.”

He shook his head. “I don’t understand you.”

“That’s okay. I don’t really understand myself, either.” It was the truth. She understood the parts of her that were like her father, but the other parts, the silly parts, sometimes surprised her. “I honestly don’t know why I laughed. But once I did, it felt good. It’s been a very long time since I laughed like that. You should try it some time.”

He looked at her like she’d just grown an extra head. “You want me to laugh for no reason at all.”

She shrugged. “Don’t put it down until you’ve tried it.”

He shook his head again. “It must be a woman thing.”

Before they went their separate ways, Deacon asked for the fund-raising plans. She ran upstairs and retrieved the papers. She was kind of hoping he’d follow her upstairs. His kisses were more addictive than the squares of chocolate with caramel centers that she enjoyed each night while reading.

She hurried back down the steps. “This is everything I have so far.”

When she handed over the papers, their fingers touched. To her surprise, he didn’t rush to pull away. Neither did she. Their gazes met and her heart careened into her throat.

Her gaze lowered to his mouth. She’d never been so tempted by anything in her life. What was it about this man that muddled her thoughts? It was as though he had some sort of magnetic force and anytime she was near him, she was drawn in.

And then he stepped back. “Thanks for these. I’ll look them over tonight.”

She choked down her disappointment. “Good. The sooner I jump on these plans, the better.”

“Then how about a breakfast meeting?” When she didn’t immediately respond, he asked, “You do eat breakfast, don’t you?”

At last, she found her voice. “Yes, I do.”

“Good. We’ll discuss this in the morning.” He gestured toward the papers. “Good night.”

She stood there for a moment watching him retreat to the main house. What was wrong with her? She knew better than to fall for him. It was the ocean breeze and his deep voice that caused her to lose focus for just a few moments. She was fine now. Realizing that she shouldn’t be standing around staring at Deacon like some besotted schoolgirl, she turned and headed up the steps.

Before it got much later, she needed to file her daily report with QTR. She carried her personal laptop to a chair on her private balcony and sat in one of the comfy chairs.

She opened the laptop and typed in her password. Once she had her email open, the words came pouring out of her.

Tonight we walked on the beach. It was like a scene right out of a movie, with the lull of the water in the background and the gentle breeze. It was amazing.

Beneath the moonlight, we kissed. I don’t think my feet were touching the ground. His touch—it was amazing. I know that I shouldn’t feel anything for him because of the accident, but the harder I fight it, the more attracted to him I become.

His kiss awakened a part of me that I’d forgotten about. There was a rush of emotions unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. It’s all so confusing. Maybe I’m just lonely. It has been over a year since I dated anyone. Work and caring for my father has consumed my life. When I leave here perhaps I need to revisit the dating scene and update my online profile. Because there’s no way what I’m starting to feel for Deacon is real. It can’t be!

She read back over what she’d written. What was she thinking? She could never tell anyone her most intimate thoughts—most especially a tell-all magazine. Talk about creating sensational headlines.

With a shake of her head, she highlighted it all. Then she pressed the delete key. But she still had to find something to write in her report.

And after what she’d learned today, she was beginning to suspect there was no story here. But she had promised that she would document the details relating to the accident. And she liked to keep her word. So she started to write out in as much detail as she could what little Deacon had told her about the night of the accident.

But with every word she typed, guilt weighed on her. How could she betray Deacon’s trust? Even if now it was to help clear his name?

Her emotions warred within her. She knew how Deacon felt about the paparazzi and tabloids. He would consider what she was doing as an utter betrayal. Could she blame him?

She hadn’t taken any of this into consideration when she’d agreed to this plan. Getting close to Deacon, gaining his trust, was changing everything. And now she was utterly confused. More than anything, she wanted to leave. Each day that passed, her confusion over where she stood with Deacon grew.

Gaby saved her report to the drafts folder. She wanted more time to consider her actions. In the meantime, she jotted a brief email stating that there was nothing new to report.

She closed her laptop and leaned back in her chair. Her presence on the estate had nothing to do with the accident and everything to do with protecting her father from prosecution. And so she would keep her word to Deacon and stay until the fund-raiser. And once it was a huge success, she could return to her life. A life without a brooding movie star with the ability to make her laugh and feel lighter than she had in years. Suddenly, returning to her prior life didn’t sound so appealing. But life here on this Malibu estate wasn’t reality. It was some sort of dream and soon she’d wake up—probably about the time the police report was released. And she worried about the steep fall back to earth.