Sex Drive (26 page)

He stepped to her side and caught that hand, gripping it firmly and not letting go.

“Everyone,” she said, “I want you to meet Damien Black.” She didn’t attach a label, not friend or boyfriend or lover. The clasped hands would convey their own message.

The expressions on the four faces were priceless. Bewilderment, disbelief, shock.

“You said you weren’t bringing a date to our wedding.” Merilee sounded put out.

“I’m not,” Theresa said. “Damien’s only in town for a couple days, on business.”

“Hey, folks!” a male voice shouted.

Glancing around to see what was happening, Damien was momentarily blinded as a flash flared in his face. A camera?

“Damien,” a skinny young guy said, lowering the camera and stepping closer, “how’d Prof. Fallon manage what no other girl’s been able to do?”

“Huh?”

The guy turned to Theresa. “Wanna flash the ring, Professor?”

“Ring?” she echoed.

The man glanced down. “Damn, he didn’t give you one? What’s up with that?”

She thrust her shoulders back and gave him a professorial glare. “What are you talking about?”

“That’s what I want to know,” Damien said.

“This is you two, right? You can’t deny it.” He thrust a piece of paper toward them—a color image of a newspaper page—and Damien read the headline:
Uni Prof Snags One of Oz’s 10 Sexiest!
One of Damien’s PR photos of him in an open-necked black shirt sat side by side with a starchy, unflattering image of Theresa. What the hell?

Damien recognized the paper. This was the front page of Australia’s most popular tabloid. Oh, shit. He glanced at the beginning of the article.
Single girls, Damien Black’s officially out of circulation. A confidential source confirmed his engagement
—

Crap. Carmen. Quickly he turned to Theresa and saw her staring at the page with the same kind of stunned fascination he felt. Being in the tabloids was nothing new for him, but his beautiful Tezzie sure as hell didn’t belong there.

Merilee wailed, “You’re engaged? What are you trying to do, upstage me?”

Despite his shock, he almost chuckled. Oh yeah, there was some sisterly rivalry.

Theresa turned huge, dazed eyes first on her sister, then, questioningly, on him.

Another flash exploded in their faces, and finally he came to his senses. He put a protective arm around Theresa and she huddled against him. “Damn that Carmen,” he muttered in her ear. To the reporter, he said, “We have no comment.”

“Oh, come on, man, it wasn’t easy figuring out what flight you’d be on, and I came all the way out to the airport after midnight.”

Pissing off a reporter was never wise. “Sorry you took the trouble, mate.” Damien flashed him a grin. “Give me your card and when we have a statement, we’ll call you first.”

He snatched the proffered card and urged Theresa toward the door, tugging his bag behind him. Her family trailed them, her father pulling her bag, and the reporter hurried alongside.

As he and Theresa went out the main airport doors, she whispered, “What’s going on? What should we do?”

“Don’t antagonize this bloke, but don’t give him anything. Go on home and I’ll call my people, see what the hell’s going on, and phone you on your mobile.”

“All right.” She sounded shaky.

“Damn, Tezzie, I’m sorry about this.”

S
orry. Damien had said he felt sorry.

Sorry for the embarrassment? Or sorry the media thought we were engaged?

He gave me a quick hug and strode toward the taxi stand.

I stared after him, remembering the confused mix of emotions that had hit when I first saw the tabloid article. Shock and humiliation, yes, but also a strange, proud pleasure. As if I’d have enjoyed being engaged to Damien, and having the world know about it.

“Theresa?” It was the reporter, invading my personal space. “How long—”

“Sorry, no comment.” I gave him a pale imitation of Damien’s grin.

Dad had stepped up beside me and I gripped his arm. “Let’s get of here,” he said.

“Theresa, you could have at least told us—” Merilee started.

“Later,” I said.

“She’s right.” Dad stepped between me and the reporter. “Please leave my family alone. We have nothing to say to you.” He loomed over the much younger man, looking distinguished and almost fierce.

“Alls I want is—” the reporter started.

“You won’t get it from us.” Dad stood firm as I grabbed Mom’s and Merilee’s hands and we hurried toward the parking garage. Matt, attached to Merilee, came, too.

Hurriedly, Mom crammed the parking stub and her charge card into the payment machine, and by the time it had spat out the receipt my father had joined us. Alone.

“Pretty impressive, Dad,” I said, feeling grateful and a little shaky.

He scowled at me. “This family does
not
need to be in some gossip column.”

“It’s not my fault,” I protested. “It’s all a mistake.”

“I knew it must be,” Merilee chimed in.

“Girls!” His voice rose. “Get in the car. Now.” He pointed into the parking lot.

It was all rather awe-inspiring, until Mom said, “Actually, Ed, the car’s over there.” She pointed in the opposite direction. Merilee and I shared a smirk. This was classic for our family. Dad’s lab at the university was superorganized, and we always said he had no organizational skills left to deal with real life.

Mom led us unerringly to the old Beemer and we piled in, me in the backseat with Merilee in the middle and Matt on her other side. Dad took the passenger seat, as usual. Once the car was in motion, he turned halfway so he could see me. “What’s this all about? What was the piece of paper that reporter was waving?”

“It looked like the front page of an Australian tabloid.” Oh God, all of Australia, including my professional colleagues, thought Damien and I were engaged. This was sort of horrible, but sort of funny as well, not to mention flattering in an odd kind of way. “We’re not engaged,” I said emphatically. “Somehow a flight attendant got that idea, and I guess she told the tabloids and…” I pulled my cell phone out of my purse and turned it on so Damien could reach me.

“Why would the tabloids care if you were engaged?” My father raised his eyebrows.

“Of course you’re not engaged,” Merilee said from within the curve of Matt’s arm. “After Jeffrey, you said you’d never get serious about another man. And if you ever did, I know it wouldn’t be a guy like that one.”

I frowned at her. “What’s wrong with Damien?”

“You go for the stuffy intellectual type. That man was seriously hot.”

Matt, who was pretty cute himself, shot her an annoyed glance.

“To get back to my question?” Dad said.

“Damien’s a bit of a celebrity in Australia. He’s a bestselling novelist and, uh…” I didn’t know whether to be apologetic or proud about this next part. “He’s been voted one of the country’s ten sexiest bachelors.”

Merilee hooted. “You’re
so
not engaged to him.”

I was about to explain that I
was
dating him, when everyone else started to talk at once.

My cell rang and caller ID told me it was Damien. “What’s going on?” I asked him, putting a hand over my free ear to shut out my family’s babble.

He groaned. “Panic in the ranks at my end.”

I had to grin. “Pretty much the same here.”

“Sorry. This is all my fault for telling that stupid lie.”

True. “I didn’t have to go along with it.”

“My agent and the publicist at the publishing house are in a flap. That sexiest bachelor thing has been part of the PR campaign. They’re talking about damage control, and trying to figure out how best to spin this.”

“Spin it? Don’t we just deny it?”

“I’d have thought so. But apparently it’s not that simple. Especially when I told them you and I really are involved.”

“But we’re not engaged.” I couldn’t see what was so complicated about this.

“I told Carmen we were, so either I have to admit I was lying—and what the hell’s a good justification for that? Or I say we got engaged, broke it off, but are still seeing each other. Which doesn’t make a hell of a lot of sense.”

“None of this makes a hell of a lot of sense. If only you hadn’t flirted with that stupid flight attendant, then—”

“He what?” It was Mom. Too late, I realized my family was hanging on my every word.

Oblivious, Damien was going on. “Believe me, I’m never flirting with another flight attendant in my entire life. But as for now, my people are going to come up with a game plan. So we’re supposed to keep quiet and not talk to the press.”

“I never had any intention of talking to the press,” I said a little snippily.

He sighed. “I’m sorry. This isn’t how I wanted things to go.”

“I know.” He sounded so dispirited that I couldn’t be angry. “It’ll get sorted out.”

“Thanks. We’ll talk tomorrow. Night, Tezzie. I miss you.”

“Me too. Good night, Damien.”

After I hung up, my mother the lawyer said, “Can we get the facts straight? Are you or are you not engaged to that man?”

“Not.”

“Are you dating him?”

“Yes.”

“That doesn’t make any—” Merilee started.

Mom cut her off. “And he was flirting with a flight attendant?” Now the lawyer was cross-examining a hostile witness. I hedged. “She was coming on to him.”

“Why would she be doing that if the two of you were all, like, lovey-dovey?” Merilee managed to get a full sentence out.

“We weren’t acting
lovey-dovey
.”

“But if the two of you were obviously traveling together,” Mom took up the charge again, “and holding hands the way you were in the airport, why would this woman come on to him? And you did say he was flirting, Theresa.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, give me a break, we’d barely met!” The words burst out, fueled by who knows what. Exhaustion, the excitement of the last two days, shock over the tabloid, frustration…Who knows, maybe even a subconscious desire to shock the pants off my family.

“You stayed in Hawaii with a man you’d barely met?” Mom’s tone mixed disbelief and censure.

Dad and Matt seemed content—or wise enough—to keep quiet while Mom grilled me.

I took a deep breath and this time thought before I spoke. Keeping my voice calm, I said, “Yes, Damien is the reason I changed my plans and stayed over in Hawaii. We wanted some time to get to know each other better.”

Finally, everyone was silent. It was a tense silence.

Mom broke it. “You’re acting like Jenna.”

Jenna, the free spirit, who was always hooking up with a new guy. Never staying with one for more than a few months. My mother’s comment took me aback. Was I? But after a moment’s reflection, I shook my head firmly. “No. This might have been sudden, and it may seem impulsive to you, but it’s not the same thing. In my life, there have only been two men I’ve been strongly attracted to.”

“And look how things worked out with Jeffrey,” Merilee said. “What makes you think Damien’s any better?”

“He respects me.” I was going to mention the book idea, but Mom didn’t give me a chance.

“Respects you?” she repeated grimly. “He flirts with a flight attendant and gets your picture plastered on the front page of a tabloid? Theresa, this kind of notoriety could damage your professional reputation.”

She was right. Some of my colleagues would brush it off with a laugh. Others, especially the older and more influential ones, would think it unseemly. But then, the same thing would happen if Damien and I went ahead with our book, and I’d already come to terms with that.

Merilee’s voice broke my train of thought. “Where did this whole
engagement
thing come from?”

I rubbed my temple, where another headache was starting. I’d never had so many headaches in such a short period of time. “Damien told the flight attendant. As a way of rejecting her without hurting her feelings.”

“He flirted with her, then wanted to reject her?” Mom asked.

“By then I’d boarded, and he liked me better.”

Matt gave a low whistle and spoke for the first time. “Theresa, you femme fatale.”

Merilee elbowed him in the ribs. “She so is
not
.”

I glared at her. “Damien chose
me
, and let me tell you Carmen was plenty hot.”

“Girls,” Mom chastised in the same tone she’d used many times before, “act your age. Now, Theresa, what were you saying on the phone about spinning the situation and not denying the engagement?”

I forgot they’d heard that part, too. “Damien’s agent and publicist want to work out the best way to handle things.”

“What’s wrong with a straightforward denial?” Mom asked.

“They have a whole PR campaign around his book tour and I guess they need to decide if they’re adjusting it.” I shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t understand myself.”

“Theresa,” Dad finally weighed in, “you can’t let others decide how to handle it. This is about your reputation, your career.”

“It’s about his, too.”

“Yours is more important,” my father said firmly. “What did you say he is? A novelist? And you’re an eminent sociologist of international renown.”

No, this didn’t seem like the right time to tell my family about the book.

“He’s in entertainment,” Mom said, “so his career thrives on tabloid exposure. Your career is…” She came out with “dignified” just as Merilee said “stodgy.”

“Merilee,” Mom said warningly. Then, to me, “Your father’s right. This could damage your reputation, and it’s all that man’s fault.”

“Okay, it’s his fault,” I said. “He did something stupid, on the spur of the moment. Haven’t you ever done anything stupid?”

There was a pause, then, on a gently teasing note, Dad said, “Who, your mother? No, she’s perfect.”

“Ed, that’s not helping.”

“It seems to me,” Dad said evenly, “the ‘stupid’ horse has left the barn. The question now is how to deal with the result. Theresa, don’t let that man decide it for you.”

Damn, he was right. I’d been so upset when Jeffrey made decisions behind my back that affected me, and now I was handing over responsibility not just to Damien but to his advisers. Advisers who would consider only his interests.

No, all they could do was advise. What he did with their advice was up to him. And I trusted him. After leaping to the wrong conclusion once, I’d promised him I wouldn’t do it again, and I was sticking to that promise.

I glanced out the window to see the familiar streets of the neighborhood where I’d grown up. We were silent as Mom pulled into the driveway and buzzed the garage door open.

After we’d all piled out of the car, Dad said, “What do you propose doing about this situation, Theresa?”

“I’ll talk to Damien tomorrow, see what his people suggest, and we’ll—”

“Oh God, the man has
people?
” Merilee said. “He really is in entertainment. What on earth do the two of you see in each other?”

“Some time, once you’ve stopped being so judgmental, maybe I’ll tell you.”

“Girls!” Mom sounded exasperated. “Enough. It’s well past midnight and everyone’s tired. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

“I’m going to head home now,” Matt said.

“Sweetie, why don’t you stay over?” Merilee cooed, all sweetness and light now.

He pushed a curl of blond hair behind her ear. “You have to get up early and study, sweetie. You need a good night’s sleep.”

She smiled up at him. “I guess you’re right.”

“Thanks for coming to greet me, Matt,” I said. “Sorry it turned into such a mess.”

He gave me an easy smile. “Hope you get everything sorted out.”

We left Merilee and Matt to say their good nights. Inside, after giving each of my parents a quick hug, I headed up to the bedroom that had always been mine. The three-story house was huge, with six bedrooms and two offices in addition to all the normal rooms.

The second floor felt strange now. The bedrooms that had once housed me and my three sisters, that had buzzed with music, arguments, and phone calls, were silent. My room was functional, with the double bed, dresser, and big desk and bookcases, but personal, too, with everything from the ragged stuffed animals I’d loved as a kid to the scholastic awards I’d won over the years. What a different person I’d been than the Theresa of tonight, who’d just spent a wild couple of days with Damien and found her name plastered on the front page of a tabloid.

Merilee popped her head in the door. “Hey, sis, sorry if I was a total beeatch.”

Had Matt given her a talking-to? I gave her back the standard sisterly reply. “That’s okay, you can’t help it.”

We shared a half-grin. My sisters and I loved each other to pieces, but so often we managed to bring out the worst in each other. Then we felt guilty—or at least a little guilty, because after all, the other sister was usually equally or more at fault.

“And I’m sorry,” I said, “that tonight was about me and Damien. You and Matt came all the way to the airport to greet me, and we should have been talking about the wedding.”

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “Anyhow, it really is good to have you here.”

“It’s good to be here. How are you doing, Merilee? You’ve lost weight and look tired.”

“I’m okay. Pretty healthy, just worn down from surgery, then having to make up the semester. Seems like all I do is write papers, study, write exams.”

Thinking of all those school prizes I’d won, I said, “If you need any help studying, let me know.”

Her face tightened and she gripped the doorframe. “I may not be a 4.0 student, but I’m not actually stupid, you know.”