Juliet forced a tight smile to her lips. “That is something I can’t discuss, actually,” she said. “The settlement is still being sorted by the lawyers, so I’m not able to give you any specifics, I’m afraid.”
“But what about the blackmail rumor?” The reporter persisted.
Ryan leaned forward, gave the reporter a smile that made my blood heat. “I think we can find other things to talk about, can’t we? No one in the midst of a divorce wants their dirty laundry aired. Not even America’s sweetheart.” His words said, “back off, lady,” but his tone and his smile almost made me believe he’d invited the reporter home for Christmas, they were so charming.
She stilled, swallowing a frown, and then moved on to asking about the movie Ryan and Juliet had just finished working on. I listened, but found myself more and more distracted just watching Ryan. The way his long legs stretched out before him, clad in dark jeans that showed the contours of the muscles beneath, the easy set of his torso in the chair. His clean-shaven face and the azure blue eyes surrounded by all those dark lashes gave him an aura of sincerity, of good-natured strength that drew me in. And his voice was gravel laced with honey; every time he spoke, something inside me stood to attention, urged me to move closer.
At one point I met his eyes over the head of the interviewer and my entire body zinged with a jolt of vibrating fire. I’d tried to avoid looking right at him, but when his gaze met mine, he held it for a long minute. And when he dropped my eyes and turned back to my sister, I was left feeling cold. This was not good.
As the first portion of the interview wrapped up and the threesome stood and made to move through the house for photos in various places, I felt like I was rousing myself from sleep. I’d been watching Ryan so intensely, given the ability to do so by the setup of the interview and the situation. And I’d been watching my sister, too—watching them together. It was like picking at a painful wound, but I couldn’t help it.
The reporter spotted me as they moved from the room. “So,” she said. “Thanks for setting everything up for us, Tess. And for handling the runaway chicken situation.”
“It’s no trouble,” I lied. It was a fair amount of trouble, and given that we were expecting about a hundred guests tomorrow evening for Gran’s ninetieth birthday party, I had a lot of other things I could be doing.
“So nice of you to let us invade like this.” She looked thoughtful. “Would you be willing to be in a few photos? Janet can touch up your makeup a bit.” She indicated a girl seated next to an open case, brushes and powders on the table before her.
I eyed Janet and her array of tools. Makeup had never been my forte. I’d dashed through the shower this morning and then put on a little blush and mascara before swiping a gloss on my lips and coming down.
“Um. Sure,” I said. A tiny part of me thrilled at getting to stick a toe into the world where my sister lived. But another part of me wondered why I would bother. This wasn’t my thing at all. My world was kayaks and paddles, water, sunscreen, and bug spray.
The reporter grinned and nodded once at Janet, who waved me to her table, where she proceeded to douse me in powders and creams, pulling my hair from its clip and waving a blow dryer around me. A half hour later, I joined Gran on the back porch, where she was expounding on the history of our plantation. She particularly liked the less glamorous parts.
“What most people wouldn’t probably know about Tobias Walthen,” she was saying, “was that he was a man of great appetites, if you get my drift.”
The assembled crewmembers shrugged and shook their heads. They were not getting her drift. Jack patted Chessy as he listened to Gran.
“Well, he had four different wives at one point, but he was a nice guy, see? When Thomas Jefferson came down this way, staying at this very house while he picked up some tips on growing tobacco and cannabis back at his own place in Virginia, Tobias offered to share.”
“Share his …” One of the cameramen said.
“His women!” Gran confirmed, her voice shrill with delight. “And then there was the time Alexander Hamilton—“
“That’s probably enough history,” I said, giving Gran a meaningful look.
She shrugged and returned to her book, muttering about people getting all worked up about nothing. I took a seat at the table, and gazed out over the lawn. One of the photographers was standing near Ryan and Juliet, posing them in front of a huge old tree. Juliet was smiling at the camera. Ryan’s heated gaze, however, was focused on me.
Chapter Nine
Ryan
Tess wasn’t the kind of woman who needed makeup to look better. She was gorgeous in every incarnation I’d seen so far—when she’d stood uncertainly on the steps as we’d arrived, sweating out in the barn from moving tables and chairs, and covered in perspiration and dressed in workout gear when she’d nearly knocked me over on the stairs. Every time I saw her it felt like seeing her again for the first time, like some kind of epic revelation my brain couldn’t hang on to. But seeing her out on the porch after Janet finished touching up her makeup and hair … I’d honestly never been more attracted to anyone.
We stood just off the porch, and I looked up at her in amazement. Her dark hair cascaded around
