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“She’s also the best housekeeper I’ve ever had.”
“She looks like she’s eighteen. Who has a housekeeper that young?”
“She’s twenty, and I do. Leave her alone.”
“That’s going to be a little hard to do if I’m living here.”
“Let me spell it out. If I have to make a choice between you and Chaz, Chaz wins hands down.” He and his empty glass disappeared back inside.
They were sleeping together. That would explain Chaz’s hostility. She hardly seemed like his usual sex bunny, but what did Georgie know about his current preferences? Not a thing, and she intended to keep it that way.
Aaron Wiggins, her personal assistant, arrived half an hour later. She held the front door open so he could wedge through with her biggest suitcase and some outfits on hangers. “It’s a war zone out there,” he said, with the relish of a twenty-six-year-old still obsessed with video games. “Paparazzi, a news crew. I think I saw that chick from E!”
“Excellent,” she said glumly. Aaron had been her personal assistant since her previous P.A. had defected to Lance and Jade’s camp. He was nearly as wide as he was tall—probably three hundred pounds and barely five feet nine. His wiry brown hair surrounded a roly-poly face decked out with nerd glasses, a long nose, and a small, sweet mouth.
“I’ll have the rest of your clothes packed up by tomorrow,” he said. “Where do you want these?”
“Upstairs. Bram’s closet is full, so I’m turning the room next door into a dressing room.”
Aaron was out of breath by the time they reached the top of the stairs, and his black man-purse had slipped down to the crook of his elbow. She wished he’d take better care of himself, but he ignored her hints. As they passed Bram’s bedroom, he peeked in, then came to a stop. “Sweet.”
The sound system had caught his attention, not the decor. “Mind if I set these down and take a look?” he said.
Knowing how much he loved gadgetry, she couldn’t refuse. He deposited her clothes and suitcase in the next room, then returned to study the electronics. “Awesome.”
“A party, babe?” a silky voice said from the doorway.
This produced a geek snort from Aaron. “I’m Aaron. Georgie’s P.A.”
Bram arched one of his perfect eyebrows at Georgie. Personal assistants tended to be cute young women or well-turned-out gay men. Aaron didn’t fit either category. She almost hadn’t hired him, even though her father had recommended him for the job. But during their interview, the smoke alarms in her house had shorted out, and he’d fixed the problem so effortlessly that she’d decided to give him a ch
ance. He’d proved to be cheerful, smart, scarily well organized, and not particular about the tasks she assigned. He was also as low on self-esteem as he was on drama, and he never thought to ask her for favors, like getting him into a trendy club or hot restaurant, something her past P.A.s had taken for granted.
Lots of guys like Aaron had moved to L.A. from their midwestern hometowns with dreams of doing special effects in Hollywood only to discover those jobs weren’t easy to come by. Now Aaron worked as her P.A. and ran her Web site. In his free time, he played video games and ate junk food.
Aaron shook Bram’s hand, then gestured toward the sound system, which rested in a rough-hewn cabinet with doors that looked as though they’d come from a Spanish mission. “I’ve read about these. How long have you had it?”
“I put it in last year. Do you want a demo?”
While Aaron explored the gadgetry, Georgie investigated the empty room around the corner where she’d decided to set up her office. Eventually Aaron joined her, and they decided what pieces of furniture she needed from storage. After they’d made plans to close up her rental house and drafted a letter for her fan Web site, Georgie told Aaron to cancel the various meetings and appointments she’d intended to get out of the way before she left for her six-month vacation.
She’d planned to travel in Europe—staying away from big cities to drive around the countryside. She’d envisioned poking into small towns, hiking on ancient pathways, and maybe, just maybe, finding herself. But her journey of self-discovery had taken a far more treacherous path.
“I finally understand why you’re taking six months off,” Aaron said. “Good plan. With nothing on your schedule, you’ll be able to enjoy a long honeymoon.”
Some honeymoon.
She and Lance had stayed in a private villa in Tuscany that had looked out over an olive grove. Lance had gotten restless after a few days, but she’d loved the place.
She’d barely thought of her ex-husband all morning, which had to be a record. As Aaron got ready to leave, Chaz came through the foyer, and Georgie introduced them. “This is Aaron Wiggins, my personal assistant. Aaron, Chaz is Bram’s housekeeper.”
Chaz swept her black-rimmed eyes from Aaron’s wiry hair to the straining buttons on his checked dress shirt to his pudding tummy and black, wedged-sole sneakers. She curled her lip. “Stay out of the refrigerator, okay? It’s off-limits.”
Aaron turned red, and Georgie wanted to slap her.
“If I have to make a choice between you and Chaz, Chaz wins hands down.”
“As long as Aaron’s working for me,” Georgie said firmly, “he has free run of the house. I’ll expect you to make him comfortable.”
