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“Since when? Oh, I remember. Since two nights ago when I kissed you on the beach.” He leaned against the doorframe and eye-smoldered her. “I can tell by the way you’ve been looking at me. I turn you on, and that scares the hell out of you.”
“You’re gorgeous, and I can be something of a slut, so how could I help myself?” She cradled the phone closer to her ear. “Fortunately, your personality totally cancels out the effect. The reason I’m calling you—”
“Instead of walking across the room and talking to me face-to-face…”
“—is because this is a business relationship, and—”
“Since when is a marriage a business relationship?”
That made her mad, and she flipped her phone shut. “Since you conned me into paying you fifty thousand dollars a month.”
“Good point.” He pocketed his own phone and wandered toward her. “I hear the Loser didn’t give you a penny in the divorce.”
Georgie could have gotten millions in guilt money from Lance, but for what? She hadn’t wanted his money. She’d wanted him. “Who needs more money? Oops…You do.”
“I have some calls to make,” he said. “Give me half an hour.” He reached into the pocket of his jeans. “One mor
e thing…” He pitched a ring box toward her. “I bought it for a hundred bucks on eBay. You’ve got to admit, it looks like the real thing.”
She flipped open the box and saw a three-carat cushion-cut diamond. “Wow. A fake diamond to go with a fake husband. Works for me.” She slipped it on.
“That’s a bigger stone than the ring you got from the Loser, the cheap bastard.”
“Except his was real.”
“Like his wedding vows?”
Some self-delusional part of her still wanted to believe the best of the man who’d left her, but she suppressed the urge to leap to Lance’s defense. “I’ll treasure it always,” she drawled as she slipped past him and went upstairs.
She consulted April’s three-ring binder and chose cotton poplin pants and a ruched, moss green top with small puffy sleeves. She added Tory Burch ballet flats but bypassed the three-thousand-dollar designer purse April recommended. Fans didn’t realize those obscenely expensive purses their favorite celebrities carted around so carelessly were freebies, and Georgie had gotten fed up with being part of the conspiracy to make ordinary women overspend on an “it” bag that would be replaced by another “it” bag before their credit cards came due. Instead, she dug out a funky fabric purse Sasha had given her last year.
She did her hair, fixed her makeup, and had to choke back her resentment when she went downstairs and saw Bram standing in the foyer wearing exactly the same jeans and Nirvana T-shirt he’d had on earlier. As far as she could see, he hadn’t done one thing to get ready for the photographers, and even more aggravating, he hadn’t needed to do anything. His beard stubble was as photo worthy as his crisp, rumpled hair. Another sign of Hollywood’s conspiracy against its female celebrities.
He fingered the card tucked into an extravagant flower arrangement sitting on the credenza. “How did you and Rory Keene get to be such buddies?”
“Is that from her?”
“She wishes us the best. Correct me if I’m wrong, but she seems to take a special interest in you.”
“I barely know her.” That was true, although Rory had once phoned Georgie to suggest she avoid signing onto a certain project. Georgie had taken her advice, and sure enough, the film had run into money problems and shut down halfway through. Since Vortex hadn’t been involved, and Rory didn’t have anything to gain from the tip, Georgie had been puzzled by her interest. “I guess she feels some kind of connection with me because of the year she spent working as a P.A. on Skip and Scooter.”
Bram flicked the card back down on the credenza. “She doesn’t feel any connection with me.”
“I was nice to her.” Georgie barely remembered Rory from those days, but she did remember Bram’s habit of making life hard for the crew.
“Lowly P.A. to the head of Vortex Studios in fourteen years,” he said. “Who’d have guessed?”
“Apparently, not you.” She gave him her most annoying smile. “Payback’s a bitch.”
“I guess.” He slipped on a pair of devastatingly sexy aviators. “Let’s go show off your ring to the American public.”
They posed for the paps outside the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf on Beverly Boulevard. Bram kissed her hair and smiled at the photographers. “Isn’t she beautiful? I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”
After her hellish year of public humiliation, his words of phony adoration felt like balm to her bruised soul. How pathetic was that? She stepped on his foot to retaliate.
Chaz was coming back to the house from cleaning Bram’s office when she saw Georgie’s lardo assistant standing by the swimming pool, gazing down into the water. She marched over to him. “You’re not supposed to be out here.”
He blinked behind his glasses. The guy was a mess. Wiry brown hair exploded from his head, and whoever had picked out those big nerd glasses must have been blind. He dressed like a fat sixty-year-old man with his stomach hanging out over his belt and a checked sports shirt that pulled at the buttons.
