Page 19 of About that Fling (The Can’t Have Hearts Club #2)

J enna’s heart lodged thick in her throat as Mia stared unblinking at the computer screen. Had she seen the shirtless photo of Adam? The Facebook exchange from last night?

When Mia lifted her eyes, Jenna struggled to read her expression.“Wh-what’s what?” she stammered.

“This article about bestselling author G.G. Buckingham and her Panty Dropper series. That’s Aunt Gertie, right?”

“Right,” Jenna said, sagging against the counter in relief. “I mean, no one else knows that, and I haven’t talked to her about the bestseller thing, but?—”

“This article says someone’s outed the author—that they’ve discovered her secret identity.”

“Wait, what?”

Mia looked back at the screen and began to read.

“‘According to an anonymous source, the reclusive G.G. Buckingham is actually an elderly man living in rural Canada. Calls to Buckingham’s agent went unanswered, but if reports turn out to be true, this could be a juicy twist in the summer’s runaway bestseller about kinky sex and secret liaisons. ’”

“Oh, God.” Jenna set the knife down on the counter, but missed. It skittered off the floor, nearly skewering her foot, but she barely noticed. “Where did you see that?”

“It’s trending on this gossip site I just pulled up, but there are links to other articles. The cat’s not exactly out of the bag, but it’s clawing at the edges.” She looked up at Jenna and frowned. “Are you okay? You don’t look so hot.”

“I’m fine, I’m just—does it say anything else?”

“It says the author photo on her book jacket is some model in Australia, and that the bio is totally fabricated. How’d they pull that off?”

“I don’t know,” Jenna whispered. “I think her agent and editor handled all the details of the pseudonym. They created the whole G. G. persona to be the author, and they seemed like they knew what they were doing.”

“If it makes you feel any better, it sounds like they haven’t actually pinpointed who G.G. Buckingham is yet. Do you think Gert knows?”

Jenna shook her head, thinking. “Maybe not. Maybe the whole thing will blow over. They think she lives in rural Canada? And that she’s a man?”

“That’s what the article says.”

“So they’re on the wrong track.” Jenna unclenched her fist and bent down to retrieve the dropped knife, her hand shakier than it had been five minutes ago.

“I don’t know, Jenna. If people want to figure it out, it might not take them very long. Should we tell her?”

“No!” Her voice came out more snappish than she intended, and she pressed her palms against the counter to keep them from shaking. “I don’t want to worry her unnecessarily.”

“You think she’d care that much?”

“Privacy is very important to Gert.”

“Huh.” Mia didn’t say anything, but the look on her face was skeptical.

Privacy is very important to me, Jenna thought, then bit her lip. And my career.

“Why don’t we just sit on this for now?” Jenna said. “I’ll put out some feelers with Gert, maybe try to get a sense of what she knows. She’s got a great agent. If Gert doesn’t want to be found, I’m sure Michelle can do something to throw them off track.”

“And what if she wants to be found?” Mia tapped a fingernail against the screen. “This article is trending, which means a lot of people are seeing it. The book is selling like hotcakes. Maybe a scandal like this is exactly what Gert wants.”

“I don’t think so,” Jenna said turning back to the block of cheese in front of her. She took a deep breath and said a small prayer she was right.

Everything’s under control.

Please, please let that be true.

Jenna’s week crawled by in a shimmery haze of avoidance. She avoided Adam’s eyes in the mediation sessions, and avoided the temptation to stalk him on Facebook.

She avoided Mia’s teasing about her love life and the jumbled thoughts of how Mia might react if she found out about the fling with Adam.

She avoided talking to Gert about her books or the risk to her anonymity, though she did manage a conversation with Gert’s agent.

Jenna tracked down Michelle’s number from the caller ID on their landline, and plugged it into her iPhone with a pang of guilt. True, she’d spoken to Gert’s agent a few times over the years, making idle chitchat when Gert was slow getting to the phone.

But she’d never gone out of her way to call Michelle. Never gone behind her aunt’s back to discuss her career. Michelle was guarded at first, but she warmed up when Jenna asked about the article threatening to out G.G. Buckingham.

“I saw it on one of those gossip sites,” Michelle said, giving an indignant snort. “An elderly man in Canada? Please.”

“Still, they’re not too far off. What if they find her?”

“Everything’s under control,” Michelle assured her.

Jenna stifled a snort. “That’s my line.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Look, I’m meeting with a PR firm tomorrow. Tell Gertrude not to worry about it.”

“I don’t think she is.” Jenna bit her lip. “The thing is, I’m not sure she knows, and she was sick last week?—”

“Gertrude is sick?”

“Well, not on her deathbed or anything. Just a touch of food poisoning, but she’s an old woman. Her health is frail, and I don’t want anything to upset her.”

“I hear you.” Michelle fell silent a moment, thinking. “Listen, I’ll do my best to keep the speculation going without letting them actually track her down. A little mystery is good for book sales.”

“I can imagine. I’ve been watching her sales rankings.”

“Great, right? You don’t think Gertrude has noticed?”

“No. She said something this morning about not being online all week.”

“She does that when she’s on deadline. Doesn’t like the distraction.”

“Good,” Jenna said. “That’s good. I don’t want her distracted, either.”

“I’ll definitely need to talk this over with Gertrude if the bloodhounds sniff any closer.”

“Got it,” Jenna said. “I’ll, um—I’ll try to keep her calm.”

“Calm, hell—just keep her writing. She’s been ignoring me all week while she works on the next book in the series. I hope it’s going well?”

“I’m sure it is,” Jenna said, feeling a little guilty about the conversation.

She didn’t talk to Gert about her writing career, so was it wrong to talk to her agent?

“She’s been very focused the last week. We’ve hardly had time to talk, what with me working late and Gertie holed up in her room with her laptop. ”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Michelle said, and disconnected the call.

By Friday evening, Jenna was jumping out of her skin. She’d only been home an hour, but she’d already changed into jeans and a comfy sweater. She glanced at the clock, dismayed to see it was only six fifteen. Why hadn’t she made plans with friends or done something to keep herself occupied?

She wandered down the hall, poking her head in to see what Aunt Gertrude was up to. The old woman was fluffing her hair in front of the mirror, her cheeks flushed and rosy. She looked up and smiled.

“Hello, dear. Good day at work?”

“Long day.”

“Oh? How are the negotiations going?”

Jenna shrugged. “I can’t really talk about it, but it’s okay. It’s just tough balancing my regular workload on top of the stuff with the bargaining team, you know?”

“I can imagine. You’ve been putting in some late hours this week.”

Jenna shrugged. “At least it’s Friday. Any chance you want to order pizza and watch a movie?”

“I’d love to, dear, but I have a date.” Gertie fastened a clip-on earring to her lobe and eyed Jenna up and down. “Speaking of dating, isn’t it time you got out there?”

“I’ve been out there. I’m just not sure I’m ready for a relationship right now, and anyway?—”

“Sweetie, it’s been two years since you broke off the engagement. Besides, who said anything about a relationship?” She patted Jenna’s hand and gave her a kindly smile. “I just want you to have some sex.”

Jenna felt the heat creep into her cheeks. “I did. A little over a week ago, remember?”

“Please, dear. A woman needs more than one little fling.”

Tell me about it, Jenna thought, but she was saved from answering by the ring of the doorbell.

“Good night, dear!” Gert called as she headed toward the door and flung it open to greet her new gentleman friend.

A tall, dark-haired man stood on the porch looking fit and handsome and at least ten years younger than Gertie.

Gert tossed a sly look over her shoulder, winking at Jenna. “Don’t wait up.”

“I won’t,” Jenna murmured, her voice echoing in the suddenly silent living room.

It was too quiet. The grandfather clock Gertie brought with her when she’d moved in made a rhythmic ticking in the corner, and the whoosh of cars on the street outside reminded her that other people were out enjoying their Friday evening. Dammit, now what?

“Pizza,” Jenna said aloud just to break the silence.

She could order in, but something urged her to get out of the house.

She knew what that something was.

Two years ago today . . .

Jenna shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. How would her life be different now if it hadn’t happened? Would she have married Shawn? Would she be happy to stay home on a Friday night chasing a baby who would have started walking by now?

Jenna shook her head, shaking off the dark thoughts, too. Admittedly, nostalgia wasn’t the only thing drawing her to Rigatelli’s. Hadn’t she told Adam about the amazing pizza and Friday karaoke? It was only a few blocks from his hotel. Maybe he’d be there.

All the more reason not to go there tonight.

She grabbed her purse and strode out the door, still deciding where to go.

The next thing she knew, she was standing in front of the counter at Rigatelli’s, definitely not waiting for Adam.

The smell of pepperoni hung thick in the air, and Jenna breathed in the scent of bubbling cheese and wood-smoked nostalgia.

“Jenna? Is that you?”

She blinked, then blinked again. Shawn?

Her ex-fiancé strode toward her, looking as surprised as she probably did. His dark hair was neatly combed, his shoulders still broad and muscular beneath a polo shirt she knew was one of at least two dozen in his closet.