Stay tuned, Mack watchers. We’ll be the first to report when the ex-quarterback and current team owner scores his first marital touchdown. Based on what we’ve heard, we’ll give you odds that it’s going to happen before the football season starts.
Beth reread the entire item again, her cheeks burning. Even though her name wasn’t mentioned, the men gathered around this table—including those who had taken off at her arrival—all knew the article referred to her. Otherwise they wouldn’t have reacted so guiltily or tried to keep it from her.
“Sorry,” Jason said. “I was hoping you wouldn’t see it. It’s just a silly little item, Beth. Not anything to get upset about.”
“Hardly anybody reads that junk,” Peyton chimed in.
“Oh, please. If you guys—who are oblivious to most of this so-called junk—read it, then obviously the entire metropolitan Washington region has seen it by now,” Beth said grimly. “Actually, I’m glad you brought it to my attention, albeit reluctantly. Now I have time to do a little damage control.”
Jason regarded her with alarm. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m not going to kill Pete Forsythe, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she said.
“And you’re not going to break up with Mack, are you?” Jason asked with evident dismay. “I’ve been counting on this lasting at least through football season, so maybe you can snag a pair of tickets for me.”
“How thoughtful of you to put my reputation first,” Beth said.
“Your reputation is just fine,” Peyton pointed out. “Your name was never mentioned. Only a few people know you’re the doctor in question.”
“Sure. Just you guys, Mack’s entire family, anyone who’s seen us together around here and a half-dozen maître d’s around town. How long do you think it will be before one of them fills in the blanks for Forsythe? People love to share inside information.”
“What difference does it make?” Peyton persisted. “It’s not as if either of you is married. You’re dating. So what?”
Beth knew what he was saying was perfectly reasonable, but she wasn’t feeling especially reasonable. She wanted to string up whoever had planted this item with the gossip columnist. She wanted to strangle Mack for ever giving her a second glance. And, come to think of it, she wasn’t all that happy with herself at the moment.
She’d known this was one of the risks of getting involved with a high-profile playboy. But once she’d drifted into a real relationship with Mack, her concerns and good sense had flown right out the window. All she’d thought about lately was how alive she felt in his arms. She hadn’t given a moment’s consideration to how their relationship might blow up in her face. If she’d found the stares disconcerting before, they were going to be even more humiliating now, just as they had been after her ex-fiancé had spread his lies about her.
“I have to do something,” she insisted. “I have to put an end to this before things get any worse.”
“What can you do that won’t make it worse?” Peyton asked.
“He’s right,” Jason said. “If you call Forsythe, you’ll be giving him exactly the information he needs to print another item.”
Because even she could see that there wasn’t much she could do about any of it, Beth finally sighed heavily and sat down. Jason regarded her warily, then stood.
“Chocolate?” he asked, his expression filled with concern.
“As much as the vending machine has,” she said, feeling defeated. Even if the vending machine had been filled just that morning, it probably wouldn’t be enough. She reached for her purse.
“No, I’ll buy,” Jason said. “I feel responsible for setting off this chocolate attack.”
“I’ll chip in, too,” Peyton said, tossing a few dollar bills to Jason.
“I’m depressed, not suicidal,” Beth said, a faint flicker of amusement sneaking in at their sudden show of protectiveness. “Besides, maybe we should use some of that money to buy up all the newspapers in the machines around the hospital.”
“Too late for that,” Peyton said. “The way the rumor mill fires up in this place, it takes only one person with the inside scoop to have the news spread far and wide by lunchtime.”
Beth scowled at his bleak outlook, but she knew he was right. The only news medium faster than the hospital grapevine was CNN.
Jason was already loping off toward the vending machine when she called after him. “Bring me chips, too.”