Page 54 of Mending Fences
A woman in scrubs entered with a clipboard full of papers.
Mandy signed the necessary forms and followed Abbie out.
“Oh, just so you know, I’ll be living with you and your roommate until the Vandemark trial is over.”
The automatic doors opened with a whoosh. “Why?”
Abbie pointed the way to her car. “Mr. Morgan, Daniel’s lawyer, is worried about repercussions. The Vandemarks don’t like to be crossed. And Daniel’s testimony could go either way.”
“But how does that involve me?”
“Because hurting you hurts Daniel.” Abbie opened her car door.
“But we are not dating or anything. I am just an old friend.”
“Keep telling yourself that and maybe someone will believe it. I’ve spent the last three years around Mr. Crawford, and, believe me, he doesn’t want you hurt.”
If he didn’t want me hurt, then he should have never kissed me.Mandy looked at her foot. “Really?”
“Yup. Oh, I need to take your photo.”
“Why?”
“Miss Fowler, if you need an explanation, a thirty-year-old single female bodyguard is the wrong one to ask.” Abbie Hastings snapped the photo. “It is for Daniel. He needs proof.”
The doctor had to be wrong. She must have a concussion and was hallucinating the conversation.
Daniel hadn’t been called to testify today, so he couldn’t break his date tonight. His being in the public eye kept Summerset from blogging that they were having private trysts—an added benefit to the defense team’s strategy. He hoped they were correct in their assumptions of the Vandemark legal team’s plan, or else all these dates were for nothing. Considering the number of times Summerset had tried to ambush him the last ten days, being seen with many different women was a good idea, even if he was beginning to detest every minute of it. He scrolled through his calendar to figure out the who, what, and when of his evening. It could be worse. At least he wanted to see the Broadway revival of the show. If he ate enough garlic for dinner, the smell might keep his date at bay. Doubtful. After her seminude performance at the music awards last year, she had been sleeping her way through the A-list. It would take a silver stake to keep her limited to the one-kiss clause of the contract.
In the cab, he checked his phone. The second he got into the elevator he called Mandy. Voicemail. “How are you? What did the doctor say? Please, please call me, Amanda.” If only the trial were over and he could explain all the dates and public kisses. He begged Morgan for an exception to explain to Mandy, but the lawyer was too concerned too many people knew the truth about the dates, and he was nervous, even with the nondisclosures that had been signed.
His next call was to Hastings. No answer.
His third was to Bonnie. Voicemail. “Please, I need help. This can’t get any more messed up!”
It could, and most likely would. His date was in an hour and a half.
She’d licked him.
Cameras had flashed.
The world had shuddered.
