Page 31 of Flirting With Disaster

If only he could forget about her.

She’d used him. Just like Elizabeth. He wouldn’t go through that again.

But it hurt like hell. Hopefully, seeing him in his element tonight would put an end to her foolish fantasies. His real name would be announced to all the guests who had come to know him as Handy Man Beck.

She’d remember Gabriel Beckette Slauter, the pilot who’d taken her parents from her. And she’d despise him, leave him, and keep herself safe from the curse that was Beckette Slader. Then he’d be able to return to his lonely life, fighting his daily demons, repenting through Angel Wings and a busy, non-fulfilling acting career that let him pretend he was someone else fifteen hours a day.

None of that changed what he’d done, however. Accidents? No, he’d caused the deaths of three people and would spend the rest of his days suffering the guilt.

“You’re being an ass, you know. You’re stronger than you think.” This, from a twenty-year-old gardener. Ennis expertly tied the silk ascot around Beck’s neck.

Beck glanced down at the fitted charcoal jacket and black knickers the kid had pulled from his quirky wardrobe. “I can’t believe you had Hessian boots that fit me. And what would you know about relationships, Ennis? You’re barely out of diapers.”

His protégé smirked and placed his hands on his hips. Ennis dressed weird but, considering he was straight off the boat from Ireland, Beck figured maybe it was a European thing to love vintage crap. Just looked like old crap to him.

“Do you love her?”

Beck swallowed—his spit, his words and his feelings. He was good at that. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Be gad! It’s the only thing that matters.” Ennis’ Irish brogue was thicker tonight than usual. Jack Daniels? “Yer always acting the plike, fella.”

“Love doesn’t cure all things, Ennis.”

“The right love can, bloke. And if you don’t figure that out soon, you’ll be a lonely eegit.” Ennis turned. “Love is a verb, Beckette. You’d be surprised the things it can help you do and overcome. When we find that someone who makes us feel our best, we can conquer anything.”

“She’ll realize she doesn’t love me when she finds out who and what I really am.”

“It’s you, who has to figure out who and what you really are. You’ve been living under false pretenses.” Ennis slipped out the door just as it opened.

“What are you mumbling about?” Ava Callahan walked into Beck’s room and wrapped her arms around him from behind. She rested her chin on his shoulder and stared at herself in the mirror. Such a shallow girl, but she was a good agent. “That simpering redhead? Beckette, it’s time you got your head on straight and got over her. She’s no one to you.”

He handed her a mask that matched the one Alana had given him. “Let’s get this done.”

She smiled. “Tonight’s a special night. I’ve got a big surprise for you. Tonight and forever on, is ours.”

* * * *

For the first time in her life, Jude was stunned into complete silence. And not in a good way.

She stood in the doorway of the beautifully decorated ballroom in her vintage finest, seething at the traitorous thoughts of life, love and family that had floated through her mind the past few days.

She had only wanted to belong, be part of something wonderful. To have someone to love and have them love her in return.

Frivolous, futile thoughts.

It was all over now—the wishing, the hoping, the fairy tale. She’d faced the cold hard truth standing on that podium, being interviewed by Harry Strubel, the TV marauder who had ruined her life with the help of her ex-fiancé.

Beckette, whatever the hell his name was, had used her. Used her like a dirty stool he could step on to reach the pinnacle of fame.

He must have known all along about her downfall on the Harry Strubel Show. He’d never let on, the clever sadist, but his plan had worked. Her notoriety with the famous celebrity interviewer was now adding to Beck’s fame. Just like it had with Evan.

Jude stared at the charismatic turncoat as he stood onstage in the middle of the ornately decorated room. Beckette was the center of attention, all poise and charm. The quiet loner of her heart was gone. Harry Strubel interviewed this stranger about his new role in an upcoming movie…and his humorous tryst with the pitiful “Honey, you’re nice, but I like his package better than yours” girl.

She didn’t hear his words. All eyes were upon her, the smirks, the pity, the sorrow, the laughter. She’d always been the butt of jokes. Her eccentric childhood, her strange mind, her complete failure as a scientist and woman.

She shifted her gaze to the life-size glossy posters. Beck in his former acting roles and with former leading ladies, parties, and fame. He wasn’t the sweet, quiet, maintenance man she’d fallen in love with. The man who played the piano in the dark. The man who built beautiful things with his hands. The man who’d mended her jacket and her heart.

Jude processed the name—his real name—written in big letters. Beckette Slader. She knew that name.

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