Cover-Up. Ruth Langan
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as Emily passed, then returned her attention to the guest register.
When Emily reached the ballroom she could hear the squeals of laughter even before she opened the double doors. She stepped inside to see half a dozen women huddled together while one harried-looking woman in bright pink sneakers stood in the middle of the room holding tightly to at least a hundred streamers attached to balloons.
“If someone doesn’t help me soon,” Marge Dawson pleaded, “I swear I’ll float all the way to the ceiling.”
“So will I,” another woman shouted. “And I won’t even need a balloon.”
There was a louder burst of giggles from the cluster of women.
“Okay, what’s going on?” Emily glanced around. “It looks like our tribute committee has been dipping into the punch.”
“Emily.” One woman separated herself from the others and rushed forward. “Wait ’til you hear.” She paused, her hand on her heart. “You’ll never guess who checked into the Harbor House today.”
“From the looks of all of you, Libby, I’d have to say Brad Pitt.”
“Even better.” Libby Conway tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear. Her freckles seemed even more pronounced than ever now that her face was flushed.
The others nodded and gathered around, ignoring the pleadings of their friend with the balloons.
“Jason Cooper.” The name was spoken on a sigh. “Can you believe Jason Cooper is here in Devil’s Cove?”
Emily’s smile faded just a notch.
Seeing it, one of the women asked, “Didn’t you know he was coming, Emily? I mean, you are chairing this event.”
Emily didn’t quite trust her voice, so she merely shook her head.
“Did he even acknowledge the invitation?” another asked.
“No.” Emily was glad to note that her voice sounded as steady as ever. She hoped whatever turmoil was going on inside wasn’t visible to these women.
“Well, how can you expect someone as famous as Jason Cooper to answer every invitation he gets?” Libby giggled. “Have you read his latest book?”
“Hasn’t the whole world?” one of the women remarked.
There was a rush of nervous laughter.
“It was creepy,” one of them said. “The town in his book resembled Devil’s Cove. All those gory murders. I couldn’t put it down.”
“Me either.” A slender brunette shivered, then added, “I wonder why he didn’t tell anyone he was coming.”
“Too busy. He probably has a secretary to handle such things.”
At Libby’s words, the others nodded their agreement.
“Yeah. And an agent, and a public relations firm and a business manager and…”
“And dozens of gorgeous models and actresses falling all over him.”
“Can you blame them?” A perky blonde lowered her voice to a whisper. “Did you see that article about him in Celebrity?”
A woman whose dark hair was streaked with gray nodded. “You mean the one showing him on the deck of that mansion he bought in Malibu? They said he never grants interviews. He jogs before the sun comes up. He works all night, sleeps all day, and keeps his private life extremely private. He looked like the dark, brooding hero of every one of his books. I thought I’d die.”
The others sighed their agreement.
“Guess where he went as soon as he checked in?” Libby lowered her voice, even though everyone in the room knew the answer to that except Emily.
Emily shrugged. “I can’t imagine.”
“To the Daisy Diner. You know who works there, don’t you?”
Emily didn’t need to respond. In a town as small as Devil’s Cove, everyone knew where everyone worked. And it was no secret that Carrie Lester, an old classmate, had been working there for years.
Emily kept her tone steady. “That’s really nice. Jason and Carrie’s brother, Cory, were best friends.”
Libby gave a short laugh. “Maybe Cory wasn’t his only best friend. You know…” She looked around at the others for confirmation. “…I’ve always thought Carrie’s little girl had eyes like a certain bestselling author and playboy who was once known as the bad boy of Devil’s Cove.”
“I think we’d better get those balloons up and head home.” Emily’s throat felt so tight, she could hardly get the words out.
“Okay.” Libby shrugged. “Emily’s right. We’d better move it if we want to look glamorous for the cocktail party tonight. And now that we’ve got Jason Cooper in our midst, we have to look our best. Connie, help Marge get those balloons in place.”
When the others walked away, Emily let out a long, slow breath.
Jason Cooper. Here in Devil’s Cove.
She hadn’t seen him since she was eighteen. He’d left town the day after graduation, without a word to anyone. Like Libby, there were many who thought it was because Carrie Lester was carrying his baby. Emily had never believed that. Not then. Not now. Still, it hurt to know that in all the time they’d been apart, he’d never made a single attempt to contact her. And now, after all this time, it was Carrie he went to see.
She shrugged it off. She’d worked hard to put Jason Cooper out of her mind. And she’d succeeded. Now he was nothing more than a bittersweet memory of earlier, innocent times.
“What about that banner?” Emily started toward the stage. There was no way she was going to stand idly by and pick at old wounds. “Can somebody give me a hand putting this up?”
She caught hold of a ladder and began to climb. This was what she needed. Nothing like good hard physical work to keep the mind from going into overdrive.
“Jason.” Carrie Lester sloshed coffee over the rim of the cup she was carrying. She hissed a breath and folded a paper napkin in the saucer before handing it to Teddy Morton, one of her regulars. Then she rounded the counter and paused to study the darkly handsome man who stood framed in the doorway. “You look…” She shook her head. “…different…successful.”
“Is that the best you can do?” He arched a brow before striding toward the sister of his best friend and kissing her cheek. “You look as pretty as ever.”
“Yeah. Right.” She touched a hand to her cheek. “Men get better as they get older. Women just get older.”
He tugged on a lock of hair the color of platinum. “What’re you now? Twenty-seven? Twenty-eight? How can you call that old?”
“I’ve got a ten-year-old kid. There are days when that makes me feel really ancient.” She indicated an empty booth. “You want to sit and I’ll get you some coffee?”
“I’d rather sit at the counter. That way you can talk to me while you work.” He settled himself on a stool and waited while she poured him a cup of black coffee.
“What time did you get in, Jason?”
“An hour ago.” He sipped. Paused.
Carrie leaned her elbows on the counter and lowered her voice, knowing the regulars were watching and listening. After all, it wasn’t every day the Daisy Diner entertained a celebrity. “I couldn’t believe it when Mrs. B. announced that she was retiring.” She gave a self-conscious laugh. “I know you’re not going to believe this, after all the trouble I gave her when we were in school, but I was hoping she’d be around to teach Jenny.”
“Yeah. I know what you mean. She was the toughest old bird I’ve ever met. But she was