Priceless(53)

Peyton regarded her worriedly. “Chips? You never eat chips.”

“I’m feeling reckless.”

“Junk food is not the answer,” he scolded, looking more like his somber self.

“Any idea what might be?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“Whether you’re in love with Mack Carlton.”

Shocked that a man so totally absorbed in his work might have taken note of the attraction, she felt compelled to deny it. “Of course I’m not in love with Mack,” she said, though her protest wasn’t nearly as fierce as it had been the night before.

Peyton shook his head. “Not convincing, Beth. For it to be believable, you must sound certain, not miserable.”

“Why do I have to convince you?”

His lips twitched. “Not me. Yourself.”

Ah, Beth thought. He had a point. She wasn’t buying her own protests anymore, either.



Mack was seething when he saw the gossip column that someone on the team’s administrative staff had thoughtfully left on his desk first thing this morning. Beth was going to be fit to be tied. He could sympathize, but at least he was used to seeing his name in the paper. He’d become accustomed to the half-truths and innuendoes that made up a column like Pete Forsythe’s. He’d learned to shrug it off as a cost of celebrity. Beth wouldn’t have any such defense mechanisms.

It didn’t matter that her name hadn’t been mentioned. It was only a matter of time before it would be. Too many people could fill in that particular blank. He hadn’t realized how much he valued the lack of media attention vis-à-vis this relationship until now, when his peace and quiet were being threatened.

He picked up the phone and tried Beth’s office. He left a voice mail on her machine, then beeped her. It was ten minutes before she finally returned his call, ten of the longest minutes of his life that left him wondering if she was too furious to ever speak to him again.

“I’m sorry,” he said the instant he heard her voice and the edginess in it. “I should have warned you something like this could happen.”

She sighed. “I should have known,” she said. “After all, isn’t that the column where I spotted your name all the time? That’s how I formed my rather jaundiced view of you.”

“Maybe so, but I’d thought we were being discreet. I never wanted to drag you into the spotlight.”

“Not your fault,” she said.

To his relief, she sounded sincere. She wasn’t blaming him. “Thank you,” he said.

“For?”

“Letting me off the hook. I probably don’t deserve it.”

“Look, Mack, I know we’ve been discreet, but it’s not as if we’ve never been anywhere at all together. We’ve just avoided your usual haunts in prime time, so to speak. We should have expected something like this to happen sooner or later.”

“I can’t get over the fact that you’re not more upset.”

“At you? No. I’m not crazy about this, believe me. Jason and Peyton had to buy all the chocolate in the vending machine to calm me down, but they’ve finally convinced me it could have been much worse.”

“It could still get worse,” Mack warned her. “Once Forsythe’s on the scent of a scoop, he can be relentless. Ask Melanie to fill you in on the role he played in her relationship with Richard.”

“Actually, now that you mention it, I remember that. I wonder who put Forsythe onto this particular scent,” Beth asked. “I’m a boring doctor, not your usual high-profile date.”

“Which is exactly why he probably finds it so intriguing,” Mack told her, then was suddenly struck by something that was so obvious, he should have suspected it right off. “Damn!”

“What?”

“Look, I’ll see you later, okay? There’s something I need to do right now.”

“What’s so important that you don’t want to finish this conversation?” she asked, her voice filled with suspicion.

“I’m going to have a chat with Forsythe’s informed source,” he said grimly.

“You know who spilled the beans?” Beth demanded

“Not with absolutely certainty,” he said. “But I’d give you Vegas odds I can name the culprit in one guess.”

“Who?”

“Destiny, of course.”

“She wouldn’t,” Beth said, sounding genuinely shocked.

“Darling, this is vintage Destiny. She’s been stirring our particular pot for weeks now. After last night’s dinner, she’s obviously decided it needs a little something to spice it up a notch. Pete Forsythe has been her chosen messenger before. Hell, she probably has his private fax number memorized after spilling all those juicy little tidbits about Richard and Melanie to him.”