Private Affair(65)
“He knows what you look like, too,” she countered.
“Yeah, but I’m just an ordinary guy.”
“Hardly.”
As she spoke, he pulled a baseball cap down over his face and pulled on a plaid long-sleeved shirt over his T-shirt.
At least he wasn’t going to watch her put on her makeup. She always hated to have an audience when she made herself into Olivia Winters—public figure. It meant she could never be herself. Or maybe she had lost sight of who she really was until last night with Max. She’d been afraid that anyone who knew her big secret would think of her differently. That was true of Max. But not in a bad way. It had helped him understand her. Accept her. And that acceptance had been a gift.
She thought about leaving off the makeup. But she couldn’t quite go that far. And putting on her face gave her something to focus on while Max was gone.
When she was finished, all she could do was pace nervously through the suite. When someone knocked at the door she whirled and hurried across the sitting room.
“Max?” she asked, seeing him through the peephole.
“Yeah. My hands are full.”
After she turned the lock, he stepped inside carrying a tray of food and kicked the door shut.
He set the scrambled eggs, coffee, and sticky buns on the table in the corner and gave her a long look.
“What?”
“You are so beautiful with your makeup on.”
She flushed. “I was thinking about leaving it off.”
“Good. Because I like you better without it.”
“You do?”
“Yeah.”
So was that going to be a step into a more normal life? She reserved the thought as she sat down to eat. The free breakfast wasn’t bad, and she had finished about half her meal when she saw Max glance at his watch. She gave him a questioning look.
He picked up the remote, clicked on the television, and got one of the local stations.
She kept eating through a couple of commercials, but her appetite vanished when the local news came on. The first thing she saw was a picture of the farmhouse, taken from the road with a telephoto lens.
She stared at the screen in disbelief. “How did they get that? How did they even know about it?”
He swore, his expression grim. “I was afraid of something like this. Probably the local news stations have a police scanner.”
They both stopped talking and listened to the reporter who was saying that the home of the late Ernest Winters had been attacked the night before.
“His daughter, the model, Olivia Winters, was staying in the house, and a visitor was killed. Her identity is being withheld, pending notification of next of kin. Ms. Winters is apparently in town in connection with the ten-year reunion of her Donley High School class.”
Olivia sucked in a breath. “How do they know that?”
“I guess they contacted people who might know you, and somebody at the reunion meeting talked.”
“So they might know you’re my bodyguard, not my fiancé.”
“Only if Hamilton gives out the information.”
“Will he?”
“He shouldn’t.” Max clicked off the TV and got up from the table. “Come on.”
Olivia gave him a questioning look. “Where are we going?”
“To talk to Brian Cannon. The good news is that the press doesn’t know where we’re hiding out—I hope.”
“But it’s not just going to be on television. Do you think it made the Baltimore Sun?”
“If it hasn’t, it will.”
When he looked grim, she asked, “What are you thinking?”
“That because you’re nationally known, this is going to go farther than the local media.”
She struggled to keep down the food she’d just eaten.
To confirm what Max had said, Olivia’s cell phone rang. When she looked at the name on the caller ID, she felt her stomach muscles contract.
“Who?” Max asked.
Olivia clicked to answer. “Jerry.”
“It looks like you got into some trouble down there,” her agent said.
“How do you know?”
“It’s on CNN.”
“Oh Lord.”
“Come back, and I’ll keep the media away from you.”
“I can’t come back. We have to find out what is going on down here.”
“You’re not a cop.”
“Jerry…”
Max took the phone away from her. “This is Max Lyon,” he said.
“Who?”
“Olivia’s fiancé.”
She heard the squeak of surprise on the other end of the line.
“What the hell do you mean, Olivia’s fiancé?” Jerry asked, his outraged voice easily carrying through the phone lines.