Lila assured him she would and Johnny interrupted, “She already offered to pay sir, but Officer Schultz was adamant that we bring her in.” Captain Fenton ordered Johnny to take her back to the market to make restitution before reading Darin the riot act.
While this outcome was much better than actually going to jail, it did give the press another half hour in which to follow her. By the time she had paid for Jilly’s crime and was on her way home, there were five cars following closely behind hers. It looked like a mini funeral procession and the dearly departed was what had remained of Lila’s reputation.
M
elinda pulled up to Creigh’s house within minutes of getting off the phone with Oscar. She didn’t see his Mustang parked out front and he didn’t answer the door when she rang. So she assumed he was out and returned to the air-conditioned comfort of her car to read her book.
Julius paced the floor of the library wondering yet again, why he agreed to let his mother throw a house party at Hedgeworth Hall. Then he remembered the captivating grey eyes, thick brown hair and provocatively tempting bosom of Miss Vivian Ashwood. He hadn’t seen her since the night of the Willoughby’s ball when she had run off early. Of course he had been in the garden with the Countess at the time, an encounter he’d just as soon forget. How could he have considered dallying with the likes of Isabelle when what he really craved was the soft, supple form of Vivian?
Julius tried his best to forget about her and concentrate on something else; anything else, as he knew that the deliciously wicked pull he felt for her could only lead to trouble. But when his Mother suggested the house party and he saw that the Duke and Duchess of Wentworth were on the guest list, his only thought was to see Vivian again.
Julius knew that he had a duty to produce an heir but the thought of matrimony had always left him cold. He was convinced that his brother, Nathan, or one of his sons would inherit the title upon his death. Yet lately, he was having a strange yearning to fill his own nursery and he pictured his children having the thick dark tresses and grey eyes of their mother.
Melinda was furious that romance novels always favored the virginal, goody-two-shoes rich girl. What about the women of the world like her and the Countess? Didn’t they deserve to find happiness too? After all, they were the ones who were out there earning it on their backs, putting up with the disgusting attentions of sleazy old men in order to climb the ranks of society.
Well, Melinda was bound and determined to use this little house party of Creigh’s to her advantage. She would get revenge for herself and the Countess. She would get the lord of the manor into her own bed, once and for all. In fact, who said she had to marry Oscar? Creighton Ashwood appeared to be just as wealthy and was a million times better looking. Why should she settle for the toad when she could finally wind up with the prince?
Melinda waited in her rental car for over an hour before another car turned into the driveway. Unfortunately, it wasn’t Creigh’s red Mustang but a crisp white Mercedes with North Carolina plates. The woman who stepped out of the driver’s side was exceptionally beautiful. She had long auburn hair and the sleek bearing of a woman born to money. Melinda thought she looked like the stereotype for the perfect socialite which really pissed her off. She’d had enough of all these pretentious ladies.
The woman approached Melinda and asked, “Hello. Who might you be?”
Melinda defiantly answered, “I’m Melinda Forrester. Who are you?”
A bit taken aback by Melinda’s tone the woman answered, “I’m Jessica Wentworth. I’m Creigh’s sister.”
Melinda immediately softened her demeanor and gushed, “Creigh’s sister? I’m so glad to meet you. I’m a good friend of your brother’s.”
Playing her part to the hilt, Jessica commented, “Really? He’s never mentioned you.” Then without allowing Melinda a chance to speak, she added, “Well, as long as you’re here, you might as well help me with my bags.”
Jessica dropped her suitcase at Melinda’s feet and proceeded to the front door.
Irritated beyond belief, Melinda picked up the luggage and followed her. She hadn’t even carried her own suitcase in longer than she could remember. But this was Creigh’s sister and maybe she could use her to get to her brother.
Jessica pulled out a house key, unlocked the door and proceeded to disarm the security panel. She glanced at Melinda and suggested, “Why don’t you get my other bags out of the trunk while I get settled.”
Melinda gasped and had to keep herself from screaming. She managed, “I’m staying here too. Why don’t you take me to my room so
I
can get settled?”
Jessica answered, “I wouldn’t dream of showing you to a guest suite without my brother’s say so. After all, I don’t know that you really are our guest until he confirms it.”
Melinda was ready to wring Jessica’s elegant neck. She didn’t care if she was Creigh’s sister. Nobody treated her like that. “Excuse me Jessica, but I don’t think you’re aware of who I am.” Then slowly, like she was talking to a child she said, “I am Melinda Forrester, the movie star?”
Jessica eyed the younger woman coldly and said, “Melinda, I’m not sure you know who I am. This is my home and if you think that you’re going to stay here, you better try a little harder to be agreeable.”
This was not at all the way Melinda anticipated the house party starting. Instead of doing one more thing for Creigh’s bitch sister, she planted herself in the living room and waited for him to return. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen until 9 o’clock that evening.
* * * * *
B
itsy and Jilly were in the kitchen watching a special on the Food Channel. Bitsy loved that crazy show where famous chefs were given something like four ingredients and thirty minutes to make a gourmet feast. Whoever made the most inventive and tantalizing meal, won. The fun part was that the ingredients were always a bizarre assortment of items that no real people ever cooked with. For instance they might say, “You have to use pancetta, raisins, squid and sprite. Ready…set…GO!”
One year for Christmas, Will bought Bitsy “Plutonium Chef” chef’s hats and aprons as a stocking stuffer. She had never worn them before but decided to pull them out for her and Jilly. That’s when they heard the commotion out front. They ran out the front door to find Lila lying on the “Welcome” mat with a slew of photographers surrounding her.
Bitsy’s mothering instinct went into overdrive and she started screaming at the paparazzi to stay away from her daughter. Possessed by her new and improved vocabulary, she let loose every foul expletive that she could think of. After her tirade, which had been visually documented by the stunned assemblage, Bitsy and Jilly helped Lila into the house.
When the door was safely shut, Lila’s Mom asked, “Sweetheart, what are you doing home so soon?”
Before she could answer, Jilly added, “And why were you lying on the “Welcome” mat?”
Lila eyed the plutonium chefs in front of her and answered Jilly first, “I tripped over my shoelace.”
Then she looked at Bitsy and answered, “I thought I’d go to the grocery store before the club to see if I was still public enemy number one.”
“The grocery store?” Jilly squeaked.
“Yes, Jilly, the grocery store. Is there any reason you can think of
that
might not have been the best decision?”
Her friend uttered, “Oh no.”
“Oh, yes. Just an FYI, the Mata Hari Mystery Hour was teaching you how to dress like a spy, not a vandal.” She proceeded to relay how she had been arrested, photographed, taken in to the police station, photographed, escorted back to the grocery store, photographed, followed home and photographed yet again. Of course they would be in the last batch of photographs.
Jilly apologized profusely, “I am so, so, so, so, so, so, so sorry! It’s just that when I saw the cover of ‘The Tattler’ I went a little nutty.”
Lila asked, “Do I want to know what the story was about?”
Her friend grimaced and answered, “I don’t think so.” Then she changed the subject and asked, “How about a nice grilled cheese?”
Lila was pretty sure her day had passed the point of salvation; so much so that she no longer had faith that the power of her favorite food could turn it around. But not being a quitter by nature, she decided to give it a shot, “You have to make it extra cheesy and special though. I don’t think a plain one is going to do the trick.”
Bitsy and Jilly sent Lila upstairs to get cleaned up and then got to work on a sandwich to end all sandwiches. Bitsy fried bacon until it was perfectly crisp while Jilly thinly sliced beefsteak tomatoes. They also made the decision that instead of melting a small amount of butter in the pan, they would go the whole nine yards and actually butter the bread. After all, desperate times called for desperate measures.
After a successful lunch they all sat down and watched a special on how to survive natural disasters. Lila learned how to get bit by a cobra, survive an avalanche and get caught in one-hundred mile an hour winds and live to tell the tales. After two hours, she realized that no one expected you to survive if you wrote a sexually explicit novel and then became the center of a tabloid media storm. It was very disheartening.
After Jilly left, Lila decided to go upstairs and call Cyn to see if she had any updates. After two rings the phone was answered, “Cynthia Flynn’s office. How may I help you?”
“Charlotte, its Lila.”
Charlotte exclaimed, “Holy crap, Lila! What’s going on in that town of yours?”
Lila sighed, “It’s horrible, isn’t it?”
Charlotte decided, “It’s like an episode of Monty Python’s Flying Circus. If I didn’t know you, I’d think you were a real nutter.”
While Charlotte was trying to be supportive, all Lila could think of was that most of the world didn’t know her and they probably thought the same thing. “Charlotte, is Cynthia there?”
“No. She won’t be in until some time next week. I thought you knew.”
“Knew what?”
Confused, Charlotte answered, “I don’t know the details. All I heard was that she had a family emergency.”
Now Lila was confused. Cynthia’s dad ran out on her and her mom when she was two and hadn’t been heard from since. Her mother was a drunk living in a trailer park in Wichita and Cynthia hadn’t spoken to her in years. Add to that, she was an only child and Lila was hard pressed to come up with a family for a crisis.
She hung up with Charlotte and decided to call Cyn’s cell phone. After the three rings, the voicemail came on with a new message, “You’ve reached the voicemail of Cynthia Flynn. I’m out of town on a family emergency. If you need to speak to me regarding one of my clients, please call my assistant Charlotte at Quest. If this is personal, I will return your call next week. Thank you.” Beep.
Lila said, “Cyn, it’s me Lila. What family emergency? Are you okay? Do you need me to fly to Kansas to be with you? Of course all the muckrakers on the planet will come with me, but I want to be there if you need me. Call me, I want to help.”
Lila spent the rest of the afternoon trying not to think about Creigh. But it was like someone saying, “Don’t think about purple socks,” and the next thing you knew, you couldn’t think about anything else. She was starting to wonder if her dad was right about him and that he did get innocently trapped in Melinda’s web. After all, if people judged her according to what they read in the tabloids, she’d be in real trouble.
Lila decided to leave reality for awhile and go back to the world of Vivian and Julius, a world where she knew there would be a happy ending.
Vivian snuck out of the ball and walked down the corridor that led to the orangerie. She needed a few moments to fortify herself before her next meeting with Julius. More than anything she wanted to come to his mother’s party to see him, even though she was still furious that he took off with the Countess of Trent the last time they met.
Vivian didn’t know how to reconcile the conflicting emotions that were running through her. She knew that eligible bachelors like Julius often consorted with loose women. But how could he leave her arms only to immediately search out such questionable companionship? It wasn’t the least bit flattering.
Just as she started to get all worked up again, Vivian heard a deep voice behind her. It was a sound that resonated to the very core of her being. “Vivian, you came.”
She looked behind the orange tree to her left and saw the man who had weighed so heavily in her thoughts. Her heart started to beat a million miles an hour when their eyes met and she whispered, “Julius…”
He moved to her side before she had a chance to leave and grabbed her hands. He brought her delicate fingers to his mouth and thoroughly kissed each and every one.
Vivian tried to pull them away, “Julius, you mustn’t. In fact, we shouldn’t be alone here without a chaperone.”
His response was to move closer and ask, “But if there were a chaperone here, would she allow me to do this?” And he proceeded to trail whisper light kisses up her neck until he had reached the plump pillows of her lips.
Vivian’s response was tentative at first until Julius started to slide his hands up and down her back. His tongue trailed across the seam of her lips at the same time his thumbs moved toward her nipples. She moaned and opened to him like a parched flower reaching for the rain.
Lila must have fallen asleep because the next thing she remembered was her dad turning off her light and opening her window.
O
scar loaded his suitcase into the limo before settling into the passenger seat. The driver was a little taken aback and asked, “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in the back, sir?”
The movie mogul answered, “If I thought I’d be more comfortable in the back, I’d be there. I’d rather sit up here and talk to you if you don’t mind.”
The driver readily agreed. Oscar grew up with very little money and even though he was currently richer that Croesus, he had never fully gotten used to having what amounted to servants. Therefore, he found himself always talking to the folks he hired to perform services for him. On some fundamental level, he related to them more than to the Hollywood types he was supposed to identify with.