From Fake to Forever (7 page)

She frowned. “I knew it.”

He frowned back. “Knew what?”

The phone rang, interrupting their scowling match. Sandra put the ant farm down and stepped away to answer it. “Hello, Storybook Land,” she said politely. “What? Yes, I am. As a matter of fact… Oh, yes, of course.” She jerked the receiver at him, all politeness stripped away. “It’s for you.”

“
Me?
” He warily took the phone. “Capshaw,” he said after he put it up to his ear.

“Turn on your damn cell phone!” his agent demanded in a booming voice. “I’ve been trying to reach you for days. I’ve been worried sick. Everything going okay?”

His eyes shot to Sandra. She stood with her hands on her hips and her usual pissed-off expression on her face.

“Peachy,” he drawled.

“Good,” Denise said. “This is a courtesy call, by the way. I haven’t heard anything yet from the producers, so I wanted to remind you to continue to play nice with the children and to continue to keep your pants zipped.”

He turned away from Sandra and lowered his voice. “What the
hell
does that mean?”

Denise laughed. “Relax, Ben. I know you’re not some child molester. The children are perfectly safe. It’s the teachers I’m worried about. I know you better than your own mo—uh, older sister. The women running that place are young, and you don’t need any problems right now. You need positive publicity. No Russell Crowe–type stuff. If you break the heart of some small-town preschool teacher and she squawks about it, you’re going to undo all the good this movie role will do for your career. I had to tell you, because this just happened to one of my clients. I’m doing damage control now.” She paused. “Hear me?”

Ben looked at Sandra again, standing close enough for him to catch that fruity scent of hers. Oh, hell. Now he knew what Adam must’ve gone through with the whole forbidden fruit thing.

He let out a long sigh. What a waste of an opportunity. “Yeah, I hear you,” he murmured.

“Oh, and another thing,” she added. “I need you to come up to New York on Monday by six p.m. You’ve got an interview scheduled with
Esquire
magazine. They’re going to focus on you changing up your persona and brand. It’ll set the stage nicely for when you get the
Heaven Sent
role.”

He cradled the phone on his shoulder and watched as Sandra stacked papers into tidy bundles on a side table. Then she picked up a stapler and started stapling the corners of each pile. The woman never rested. She wasn’t a spoiled woman who wanted to be waited on hand and foot, like some of the models he had dated. Before he knew it, he was mesmerized by how efficiently her hands moved. That alone said a lot about her character—that she was organized and hardworking. And darn if he didn’t like that about her as well.

“Did you hear what I said?” Denise barked in his ear.

“Yeah. I’ll be there.”

“Good. And let the ladies know I’ll send them the check for their services at the end of the month.”

“Check?”

“Mmm-hmm, it was in the contract. Two weeks is a long time to have you interrupting their routine—as lovable and charming as you are.”

Two weeks?

“And remember, Ben, no touchy-feely-type stuff. Focus on your career. We’re too close now. So don’t mess it up.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He hung up the phone.

“Let me guess, another female admirer?” Sandra smirked.

Ben rubbed his chin, his agent’s parting words echoing in his head. “Huh? Yeah, sort of,” he said. “Listen, you were right about what happened yesterday—about my kissing you and all. It was totally unprofessional.”

Sandra paused, stapler held in midair. “It was?”

“Yes, and I promise it won’t happen again.”

“It won’t?”

He shook his head. “You were right. I haven’t been taking this agreement seriously enough. You and your sister have been very kind and accommodating to allow me to observe your school, and all I’ve been doing is playing games and joking around, especially yesterday in your office. I’m very sorry.”

She finally put down the stapler. “Am I being punked?”

“Not a chance. And that show is off the air, anyway.”

“But I thought you said—”

“Sometimes I can’t help how I act. Bad Hollywood habits. I really do want us to be friends.”

“You do?”

“Yes. So what do you say? I know it’s hard for you to believe what I’m saying after how I’ve treated you.”

Sandra was no dummy. Now that the shock was gone from her face, she eyed him with open skepticism. He couldn’t blame her. Let’s face it, his turnaround in attitude wasn’t exactly his idea. He was not hoping for just a friendship with her. In fact, he was one agent-interrupted phone call away from suggesting she get a babysitter and go back to his place this afternoon. But if friendship was going to get him better publicity and make his agent happy, then friendship was what he was going to have to settle for.

“And considering I’ll be here a little longer than you planned,” he added, hoping he could slip this by her without igniting any more suspicions, “I thought it’d be best to clear the air between us.”

“How much is a little longer than I planned?”

“About two weeks. Less than two weeks, really.”

“Two weeks?”

He held up a hand. “Yeah, I know, but according to the contract you signed, you’ll be getting a hefty check for hosting me.”

That stopped her protest cold, and she looked happier than he’d ever seen her. “A hefty check?”

“The heftiest.” Uh-oh. Come to think of it, Denise hadn’t said anything about the dollar amount. He’d have to make sure it was substantial.

Sandra watched him carefully and appeared to think it over. “In that case, I guess so.”

“Great. Again, thanks for being such a good sport about everything.”

She nodded. He nodded, too, even though he didn’t know why. Then to break the awkward moment, he shrugged and yanked his thumb toward the hall. “I guess I’ll get back to class now.” He shuffled himself out and closed the door behind him.

Whew. That was one major tap dance he’d just performed back there for the sake of his career, but if they were going to be around each other for another week or so, it had to be done. Like his agent said, he couldn’t be playing around with that woman—at least not in this lifetime. So he had to lie about why he’d kissed her, telling her it was all a big joke. Unfortunately, the kiss they’d shared was no joke at all.

It looked as if Sandra bought it, though, even if his heart wasn’t entirely into it. He’d sounded so convincing, he almost fooled himself into believing it, too.

Damn, he really was a good actor.

Chapter Six

Sandra made a list of school expenses, and then carefully inspected what she’d written. There was no way she could squeeze another task on if she tried, but she was excited about all the things they could finally afford to do. She even thought about making up a secondary wish list, just in case the check was bigger than what was promised.

As soon as Ben had left her office, she’d dug out the agreement and perused it from beginning to end.
How did I miss this part?
It bowled her over to learn they were going to be compensated so well for allowing Ben access to their school. No wonder Missy had jumped at the chance to have him come here. She’d have to give her sister more credit next time.

The positive publicity Ben could provide was still a bit iffy in her mind, but a check was tangible. Something they sure could use now. Once the school became more profitable, she’d add on a small wing to their building
,
then she could offer fun summer camp programs—maybe even have a day care for children too young for preschool. A small dream, yes, but it was still her dream.

Ben’s coming here might be the key to her success after all. And if things worked out with the promotional stuff, too, well, their little preschool might just be the talk of the town, as Missy had promised. She didn’t want to get too carried away, but she felt as if things could really be looking up for her and their business. And, according to Ben, she wouldn’t have to endure him coming on to her anymore, or thwart any more of those toe-curling kisses of his. Which, of course, was good news, too…wonderful, even.

Wasn’t it?

She had to admit she’d felt a trickle of disappointment at his adamant assurance that the kiss they’d shared yesterday would never happen again. Ben had promised her he would just continue to work and observe there, treating her and the other women with professionalism from now on. Again, more good stuff to hear, especially since that’s what she’d wanted from him from day one.

Wasn’t it?

She shook her head at herself. This was crazy. He was doing it again, causing her emotions to not play fair. She and Ben were on two different life tracks—were two different people—so of course it was what she wanted.

His statements just came as such a complete shock. He’d actually owned up to being the rat she knew he was all along—a rarity for someone of his gender. His honest confession of joking around with that kiss almost made him seem un-rat-like, if that were possible.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to think about anything else besides that good-looking louse’s kiss since it happened. That kiss brought to the surface things she’d thought were buried deep within her since the day her husband left. She’d forgotten how easy it was to slide into a man’s arms, to allow herself to become vulnerable again.

And it scared her to death.

Was Ben all show and pretense, or was there something more to that playboy veneer? She wasn’t sure she wanted to find out. But a small part of her couldn’t help but wonder if he even enjoyed kissing her. Probably not. He was used to kissing for the camera, not to mention used to kissing other gorgeous world-famous celebrities, not ordinary mothers of preschoolers.

She probably smelled like Elmer’s Glue, too.

Sandra glanced at the time. School was almost over, and today she’d promised Hannah she’d take her to lunch on the boardwalk. They both looked forward to getting out to the beach, since the weather was unseasonably warm for fall. Maybe the fresh ocean air would help clear her jumbled-up thoughts about Ben, too.

A knock sounded, and as if on cue, the man himself poked his head in. “Is it still okay for me to hide in here with you while the kids are being picked up?” Ben asked. “I swear one of the moms recognized me, or maybe she was just flirting. Either way, it’s bad. Remember, I promise to be on my best behavior.”

He grinned a charming kind of lopsided grin, and just like that, she lost her ability to speak. What was wrong with her?

Taking her silence as a yes, he swept through her office on his long legs and folded himself into one of the chairs facing her desk. Smiling, he sat, seeming at ease and comfortable despite everything that had happened between them—as though he’d never kissed her.

All she could do was fidget with a highlighter and be envious that she couldn’t be as in control and put all her emotions behind her. She couldn’t even look at him the same way.

“So, how’s it going at this end of the school?” he asked, leaning his elbow against the back of his chair.

“Um, okay.” She couldn’t sound any more lame if she tried. Ben was finally trying to make nice conversation—add some normalcy to their working relationship, which was exactly what she wanted—and she couldn’t think of a single thing to say to him. In fact, since she wasn’t snapping at him, she had to concentrate on not staring at that incredible mouth of his.

Ben looked amused. “Hmm, you don’t say? Jeez, Sandals, I think you had more to say to me when we weren’t such good friends.”

“I told you, it’s not Sandals. It’s
Sandra
,” she shot back, emphasizing the last syllable of her name. “And friendship isn’t just given to someone on a silver platter. Something you seem to—”

“That’s more like it,” he said with a grin.

Stunned, she realized what he had done, and then she grinned, too. He’d wanted to agitate her by calling her Sandals, to break the awkwardness around them. And it worked.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

He stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles. He wasn’t wearing socks, so she noticed the tip of the tattoo she remembered from that day at the park. Only today, the skull didn’t disgust her. Today, she found it sexy and just a bit mysterious.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “What are friends for? Besides, I like it when you yell at me.”

She gave him a look that made him laugh.

“No, really,” he assured her. “Yelling is an honest reaction and nice to have, since people—aside from my agent—usually spend their time trying to kiss up to me.”

“I’d be happy to be even more honest with you, if you like.”

He held up a hand. “No, no. I like my honesty dished out in small doses. Easier for my ego to take. Deal?”

A laugh bubbled up inside her. “Okay, deal.”

“So…” he began, his hands steepled together in his lap, “what truths shall we discover today?”

She sighed. “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t play any more games.”

“No games. Just talk. I like to hear you talk. Tell me more about yourself, what your favorite color is, or better yet, what your favorite movie of mine is.” He leaned in, his gaze and attention so solely focused on her that heat automatically crept up her cheeks.

Ben did seem to be a good listener. Then again, he had admitted he liked to observe people as part of his character preparation. He was good, that was for sure. He had a sneaky way of drawing people into conversation. Another gift he had. But she had opened up enough to him. More than she had to anyone in a long while.

“Why don’t you tell me something about the great Ben Capshaw?” she asked instead.

His brow slowly raised. “You really want to know more about
me
?”

She nodded and found she truly did.

“Okay. What do you want to know?”

What
do
I want to know?
For starters, who was that chick Courtney on the phone the other day?
How many women have you slept with?
“What’s your favorite color?”

He gazed into her eyes and smiled. “Definitely blue.”

Oh, he really was good, but she could now see his flirting was a way to keep people just above the surface. He might have agreed to answer her questions, but his posture definitely had stiffened. “What’s your favorite food?”

“Meat.”

“How inclusive of you. Your favorite movie?”

“Any of the ones I’ve starred in.”

Sandra held in a sigh. She was getting nowhere fast and made a decision to cut to the chase and see how he responded. “Do you miss home?”

His mouth fell open for a split second, but he quickly recovered. “Miss…what?”

“Do you miss home? You know, Hollywood. I imagine it must seem pretty dull around here in comparison.”

“I can honestly say I haven’t been bored since being here.” He would have stopped there, but she nodded, encouraging him to go on. “Yes, I do miss California. People call a lot—some actual friends and some acquaintances—wanting to go out and try a new restaurant, and there’s usually an award show I’m asked to attend or present at, which keeps me in a constant state of busyness when I’m not working on a movie. So yeah, I miss all that.”

“Doesn’t sound like you’re home a lot.”

He looked away. “I’m not. Prefer it that way.”

“Why?”

He shrugged, shifting in his seat. “I spent enough time home alone as a kid. Now that I’m an adult, I can tell you that it sucks just the same.”

Sandra blinked. The easygoing playboy veneer Ben wore like his favorite underwear had finally slipped, and she caught a glimpse of the real man underneath all the smiles and charm. Unfortunately, what she’d seen captivated her more than any on-screen performance he’d given in the past.

“Mommy, Aunt Missy gave me a sticker!” Hannah’s shout came five seconds before she materialized before them, and when she did, her cheeks looked rosy with excitement.

“Wow! Why did you get a sticker today?”

Her daughter puffed her chest out. “Because I was a good girl.”

Sandra looked to Ben for confirmation. “She was,” he told her. “But then, she’s always a good girl and, without a doubt, my favorite midget.” He slid out of his chair and knelt in front of her. “We’re buds, aren’t we, Hannah?”

“Yeah! Big Bens and me are buds,” she informed her mother. Then with a sudden frown, she whirled back toward Ben. “Um, you mean like rosebuds?”

Ben chuckled. “No, I mean we’re buddies. Bud for short. Get it?”

Her little features scrunched up for a second, but then she gave him a smile that burst through like sunshine. “Yeah, I get it.”

“Okay, Hannah, go get your jacket,” Sandra interrupted. “It’s time to go. Mommy’s starving.”

“Big Bens, are you coming to the boardwalk, too?”

Ben appeared nonplussed and, though maybe she was seeing things that weren’t there, a little pleased at Hannah’s question. His eyes swung away from her daughter. “Boardwalk?” he asked.

Sandra blinked at his intense green gaze. “That’s where we’re going to have lunch.”

“Pizza,” Hannah cut in.

“Yes, pizza,” she agreed.

“And don’t forget the rides,” her daughter sang.

She shot Hannah a warning look. “Maybe rides, too.”

Ben rubbed his hands together and stood. “Pizza and rides? Where do I sign up?”

“Oh, well—”

“You don’t sign up, you just come,” Hannah told him. “Then we can all be together.”

Sandra suddenly wanted to find the nearest sinkhole and jump in headfirst. Her daughter had just invited a heartthrob celebrity to spend the afternoon eating sloppy, greasy pizza and going on kiddie rides. Yeah, that had to be the second item on his list of things to do today, right after his Swedish massage. He’d just told her he missed going out to award shows and new restaurants. Not once did he mention amusement piers. He’d probably have a good laugh at that later while he was eating lobster stuffed with caviar. Too bad—for her daughter, that was. Hannah obviously missed a father-type figure in her life. It just about broke her heart to witness the hopefulness overflowing in her daughter’s big, round eyes, but she knew Ben was just being polite by pretending interest.

“I’d love to come,” he answered.

What?

“Hip, hip, hooray!” Hannah shouted as she galloped around the office.

Sandra gritted her teeth. Ben wasn’t helping the situation, standing there, laughing as her daughter jumped her little heart out. Frustration constricted in her chest, since she was left with no choice but to be the bad guy. No matter. She was used to it. The way she always made up excuses for her ex-husband, she had the bad guy routine down to an art form by now.

“Sweetie,” she said, taking her daughter by the shoulders, “Big Bens is a very busy—”

“Sandra, I said I’d love to come.”

She looked up and saw he was serious. He really didn’t want her getting him out of lunch on the boardwalk. Huh. That was a new one to her. But out of habit, she tried one more time. “Aren’t you worried about being recognized?”

He flashed her a confident grin, reaching deep into his pocket, whipping out what looked like a black necklace and twirling it around his index finger.

“What’s that?” she asked.

Hannah’s little hands went for the object, but Ben yanked it out of her reach just in time. “Nice try.” He looked at Sandra, his grin widening. “It’s my eye patch.”

“Your eye patch,” she repeated dully. “Has this role you’re after changed to a pirates-of-the-Jersey-shore movie?”

“No,” he said with a chuckle. “Since you had me shave, it’s my new disguise. I stopped at a convenience store the other day and got accosted by two teenage girls who recognized me as soon as I reached for a gallon of milk. One of them even pinched my—”

“I get it,” Sandra said, holding up a hand.

“I’m just saying. Fame isn’t easy.”

Poor baby.
“So now you honestly walk around wearing that thing?”

He answered her question by putting it on.

Oh, dear. She hated to admit it, but the eye patch looked good on him. Why was she even surprised? Of course it did. He was a handsome man, and now he made one heck of a handsome pirate. To her disgust, her heart even did a somersault.

That settled it. Ben coming with them to lunch had bad idea written all over it. She looked to Hannah, hoping for an ally, or at the very least, some kind of sign. “What do you think, sweetie? Do you want to go to lunch with a scary pirate?”

“
Pi-rate, pi-rate, pi-rate,
” her little traitor began to chant, giggling and dancing around some more.

Not the sign she’d hoped for.

Sandra shrugged at Ben. “I guess you can come with us.”