Pitch Imperfect(69)
“I just want your doggie skills.”
He waggled his brows. “If you insist.”
In spite of her bad news, Anjuli managed a small smile—until Damien’s next words wiped it off her face.
“When is Rob coming back?”
“Too soon.”
He looked at her intently. “I see.”
“No, you don’t.”
He clucked his tongue. “Can’t lie to a doctor, gorgeous, but your luck is in. The best way to forget someone is to sleep with an Irishman. We have magical powers.”
“Can you turn back the clock?”
Damien leered. “My magic wand can do anything.”
Anjuli gave him a playful shove...and found herself staring directly into Ben’s glowering face. He was riding past on an enormous chestnut stallion, looking down at her as if he wished he could trample her to pieces. What the hell was his problem? Oh, yeah, she was. All the same he looked incensed, not merely angry she was back in Heaverlock.
As the parade continued, more people gave her irate looks, the kind that try, condemn and hang you from the nearest tree. The Johnsons were on the other side of the road and when Anjuli waved, Mrs. Johnson scowled back. Then Phillipa Weensland brushed past her, muttering something that sounded very much like “slut.”
After the evening return parade, the Heaverlock Arms was packed to the rafters and she forgot about the villagers’ strange glances—until Sarah Brunel walked in. Damien’s face grew taut when he saw her.
“I just wanted you to know it wasn’t my fault,” Sarah said, not sounding the least apologetic or looking her in the eye. “My editor saw the photos and made the decision. There was nothing I could do. Sorry.”
Bemused, Anjuli stared at her retreating back. “What was that all about?”
“The village will get over it,” Damien said, but his face said otherwise. “People enjoy believing the worst of others, and if it’s in the paper then they think it must be true.”
“Get over what? What do they believe? What’s in the paper?”
“You don’t know?” he asked, brows raised. “I thought you didn’t want to talk about it so I didn’t.”
Damien retrieved a crumpled copy of The Borders Chronicle. The paper looked as though it had passed through the hands of every person in the pub. Not surprising, since the headline was about the wind farm being turned off for the ride-out, and everyone wanted to read the about the festival.
Damien followed Anjuli to the back office. “Page three,” he said grimly.
“Oh God.”
The headline read Celebrity Gives up Singing for Swinging and underneath, in full colour taking up most of the page, three pictures of Anjuli kissing different men. Brendan, outside the seedy café in Glasgow; Damien, while they slow-danced at the ceilidh and—oh shit—it looked as if she was kissing Craig in her dressing gown.
Her back was to the camera but it was obviously her. Long brown hair, huge arse and the Redesburn moors in the background. Horrified, Anjuli read the scathing article, a comparison between the three men and a question as to which one owned her heart. Sarah must have pulled the paparazzo’s photo from a magazine, taken pictures at the ceilidh and snapped a shot of Craig’s assault before announcing her presence. Questions ricocheted in her mind but she had other, more important concerns to think about.
“I have to talk to Mac and explain, tell her that picture isn’t what it seems and the article isn’t true.”
“She won’t want to hear you right now, gorgeous. Nor will she believe anything you say. Give it a few days before you try to talk to her.”
Anjuli looked at Damien’s scowling face, her alarm rising. Did he believe this dreck? Would Rob, when he heard of it? Because he would. Nothing travelled faster than gossip in Heaverlock, and an ocean was no impediment. “The blond is my ex-husband, saying goodbye to me in Glasgow,” Anjuli explained. “It was one, brief kiss. A sort of farewell. And that picture with Craig is him trying to keep me from punching his lying, cheating face. Sarah happened to come along and she took a picture. No matter what her article implies, I’m not having an affair with him. I despise him.”
“Bastard.” Damien punched his hand with his fist. “I know you’re not having an affair with Craig and I also know he’s the father of Ash’s baby.”
Anjuli gawped at him.
“I saw Craig go up to the flat with Ash one night. Then I saw him leave the following morning.” He looked uncomfortable. “It wasn’t hard to work out who the father was when news of Ash’s pregnancy went around the village.”