A Case of Defamation Pt. 02

FOUR

Dan watched as Shay trotted down the three steps from the house. He was dying to ask her what Greg said, but he couldn't decide if that made him look guilty or not, so he decided not to say anything. He opened the door for her as she approached.

"That guy is a piece of work," she said as she dropped into his car.

"Yeah," he grunted as he shut the door.

"He slapped me on the ass," she continued when he settled into the driver's seat.

He couldn't help but chuckle. "He's old, not dead. What did you do?"

"I told him if he did that again I'd break off his hand and shove it up his ass so deep he could use it to pick his nose."

He chuckled harder as he started the car. "He probably liked that."

"He invited me into the sauna. Twice." She shook her head but said nothing. "Tell me about Abbigale."

"Who's Abbigale?"

"His granddaughter."

He flashed hot with the memory. "Nothing much to tell."

"Mr. Beckette," she began---

"Dan," he interrupted.

"Dan," she began again, "if you're not honest with me, you make my job a lot harder."

He sighed as he pulled out of the Mills estate on his way to his next appointment. "She was hitting on me, hard, right in front of her grandfather. That made me a little uncomfortable. No. It made me a lot uncomfortable."

"Did he really tell you to take her upstairs and fuck her if you wanted to?"

"Not in so many words, but yeah."

"What did he say?"

"I don't remember exactly, but it was something like, 'If you want to take a break to work with Abbi, I'm not going to complain.'"

"Why didn't you?"

He glared at her. "Why do you think?"

"Because Mr. Mills is your client?"

"That's most of it. The other part was she was a little brash for my tastes. She talks just like her grandfather. Fuck this, and fuck that, and she wanted me to stick my big, fat, fucking cock inside her tight little pussy, and fuck her until she screamed."

"She actually said that?" she asked with wide eyes.

He nodded. "Yeah. Whispered it in my ear while Greg was working out. Like I said, a little brash for my tastes."

"Was she attractive?"

"Yeah, if you like the corporate ball-breaker look. I think she's a bigtime corporate lawyer or something back east somewhere, and she looked at me like a cat staring at a mouse."

She grunted. "That family is messed up."

He shrugged. "Just foul mouthed is all. I saw Ms. Millotti twice before she left for home."

"Was she that way both times?"

"More so the second time. That's when she whispered in my ear. The first time she just made her interest clear."

"You know most men would have been all over that?"

He shrugged. Abbigale was a couple of years older than him, and damned attractive. Five years earlier, he'd have taken her upstairs and tried to fuck her into submission, just to prove to her that he could. If she hadn't been so pushy, he might have still taken her to bed. They might have gone out, had dinner, a couple of glasses of wine, and then he'd have seen if her ass could backup the promises her mouth was making, but her pushing so hard was a bit of a turn off. Couple that with Greg being his client, and it hadn't happened.

"What can I say? Wasn't my type."

"That kind of runs against your reputation."

His lips tightened. "Yeah, I know, but trying to bed every woman that smiles at me doesn't hold as much appeal as it used to."

"Why?"

He shrugged again and glanced at her. "Finally growing up, maybe?"

"Maybe. Where are we going now?"

"My next stop. Mairead Cowan."

"Never heard of him."

"Her. She's a Scottish pop singer. She's huge in Europe and had a couple of big hits here in the States. I think she's trying to break into the movies."

"Ah," she said, and he could tell her ears had perked up. "Anything I might have heard?"

"Sham?"

"About the girl who was in love, but the guy just wanted to be friends? That was her?"

"That was her."

"Wow! That song was everywhere for a while. I liked it."

He nodded in agreement. His tastes ran more to country, but like everyone else, he'd heard the song because it went to number one on Billboard with a bullet, and stayed on the charts for weeks. As they chatted about their musical tastes, and whatever else came up, he wove his way through the canyons from the old money of Beverly Hills to the rarified heights of Bel Air, where the maids were given cars like his Porsche to drive, and the dumps cost a couple of million. He rolled to a stop at the gate where he was greeted by a rent-a-cop.

"Hey, Bob."

"Mr. Beckette. Who's with you today?"

"Ms. Caddel. She needs to ask Mairead some questions."

"She a reporter?"

"No."

"I still can't let her in."

"Let me speak to Mairead."

"If this is going to be a problem," Shay began, but he waved her off.

The man handed a phone through the window. "Mairead, Dan. I have a guest with me. She wants to ask you a few questions about me. You'll be doing me a huge favor if you can talk to her for five minutes."

"Questions about you?" Mairead asked.

"Yeah."

"About the rumors?"

"Yeah."

"She's not a reporter, is she?"

"No. She's working for me."

There was a short pause. "Okay. She can come up."

"Can you tell your man?"

"Hand him the phone."

Dan did, and a moment later, Bob opened the gates before returning to the car and bending to look into the driver's window again. "Just doing my job, Mr. Beckette."

"I know. Don't sweat it," Dan said as he flicked the paddle to put the car into first and crept through the gate and along the long, winding drive.

"Christ," Shay muttered as Mairead's house came into view.

Mairead's house was not only huge, but it also had a breathtaking view over the canyon back toward LA. He stopped at the edge of the enormous parking pad fronting the four car garage, and led Shay to the door.

"She's waiting for you in the gym," Paul, her bodyguard, driver, and butler said as he opened the door.

Dan led Shay through the house. Where Greg's house was old school, built in the forties, Mairead's was new, built in the last ten years or so. The house was a single story and open, with polished wood throughout. The house was a series of rooms, each with a wall of glass overlooking the canyon, and LA beyond.

"Holy shit," Shay whispered as she trailed along behind him. "What would this place cost?"

"I heard she paid over thirty million for it," he muttered.

They found Mairead loosening up, the infinity pool behind the glass wall reflecting the sky. Full figured, with a long mane of fiery red hair, Mairead was as beautiful as her voice, and combined, she could stop a man's heart. Dan kicked off his shoes and joined her on the mat.

"Ready to get to work?" he asked after giving her a quick kiss on the lips.

"Ready," she purred, her accent thick.

He took his place beside her, and they went through some slow, easy isometric exercises to warm up. "This is Shay Caddel," he said. Mairead grunted but said nothing. "She's following me around for a couple of days."

"Why?"

"I'm trying to get to the bottom of those rumors."

"You Americans, I'll never understand you. So quick to believe anything anyone says without a scrap of proof."

Once they were loosened up, he added isotonic contractions to their routine. Mairead didn't like weights and machines, so they worked with their body weight and simple tools, such as steps. She wasn't trying to build mass, only to stay toned and fit. About forty minutes in, they were sweating, with Dan's shirt starting to stick and Mairead's skintight, one-piece leotard darkened between her breasts, under her arms, and around her crotch.

"You jobbie, how am I supposed to focus with you looking belter like that?" Mairead panted with a teasing grin.

He smiled to himself as they held their squat, like they were sitting in a chair with their arms out in front of them. It had taken him a while to learn her slang.

"You've got no room to talk, you sexy thing. I love working up a sweat with a beautiful woman."

He controlled the workout, and she followed his lead. When he saw her starting to lose a hold, he'd maintain it a few seconds more, forcing her to reach for it, then break the position. He'd give her a five or ten second break, then they'd assume another position and hold that one. Some of the positions hurt like a bitch, but that's how he knew he was working the muscle to its maximum. Someone could do these types of exercises to collapse without worrying about damage because the muscles couldn't be overstressed. He saw her legs starting to shake as she groaned, so he stood.

She also tried to rise, but went over sideways as she fell to her ass. "I'm wabbit!" she panted as she sat on the floor.

He reached down and pulled her to her feet. She wasn't very steady, which meant she was about out of gas. "A few more, then we're done."

He led her to a padded wall where they leaned into it, their arms wide and bent at the elbow as they held their weight.

"Stop sticking your ass out. Keep it stiff and straight," he scolded gently.

Mairead groaned and tightened up to increase the pressure on her arms. "I would if you'd let me," she puffed.

As she began to sag, he broke the hold to give her a rest. "One more." She began shaking her head. "Come on, one more, then we're done," he cajoled as he leaned against the wall again. She groaned, but followed. "Hold it... hold it..." he encouraged.

She cried out in pain just as he released her. "You're a real bassa, you know that?" she gasped as she straightened.

"No pain, no gain."

"Aye, right. I think you just like hearing me groan in pain."

He gave her a good-humored, lecherous smile. "And a sexy groan it is too. Why do you think I do it?"

She sneered playfully and gave him the finger. "One of these days you're going to have to make good on all the flirting."

He waved his hands in front of his face as he grinned back at her. "I'd never be able to handle as much woman as you."

Mairead grinned at Shay before jerking her head his way. "Listen to him. All that talk, and he won't back it up. I think he's a bit of a bawbag, what do you think?"

Shay smiled, but there wasn't a lot of humor in it. "I think that describes him pretty well."

"You said you wanted to talk to me? I'm minky, but if you can stand me, ask away."

Shay looked at Dan and he took that as his cue. "I'll see you next week," he said, wrapping his arm around Mairead's back and giving her another buss on the lips. "I'll wait outside."

He picked up a bottle of water and carried it with him until he stepped out into the warm California sunshine. After cracking open the bottle he took a long pull to rehydrate. Thirst temporarily sated, he opened the trunk of the car before pulling out a towel and a clean, dry shirt. He removed his damp shirt before stuffing it into a large plastic bag and sealing it, wiped himself dry, and then changed into the dry shirt.

He'd seen the look on Shay's face and knew exactly what she was thinking. Yes, he was flirty with Mairead, but she enjoyed it, and it made her work hard. She'd started the kissing routine, and he'd gone with it. He was a male, after all, and there were probably less than twenty men on the planet that wouldn't find kissing Mairead Cowan appealing. The kiss was perfectly innocent, like you were kissing your grandmother, and would never be anything more.

Mairead was stunning and had the voice of an angel, but so long as she was his client, she was strictly off limits. No mixing of business and pleasure was his most stringent rule because he knew nothing good could come from it. The last thing he needed was for a client to accuse him of inappropriately touching. It was bad enough having the anonymous internet saying it, but he knew he'd be ruined overnight if someone like Mairead were to say it.

He hung around his car, waiting for Shay to arrive. She was talking far longer with Mairead than she had with Greg, and he was beginning to fret when she appeared.

"Well?" he asked, hoping his concern wasn't evident in his tone.

"What?"

"What did she say?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? You were in there a long time for nothing."

She smiled at him over the top of his car. "She's got a serious case of the hots for you."

"No kidding?" He was far below Mairead's position, and knew it, so the news surprised him. The princess and the gardener only happened in books and movies.

"You didn't know?"

"No."

"Oh yeah. If you weren't her trainer..." She grinned at him and shook her head in teasing amazement. "She also said you were a flirt. No surprise there. I saw that myself, but she likes it, so I guess no harm no foul. She also told me that you don't touch, not much anyway, and only enough to correct her posture, position, form, whatever." She paused for a moment. "Is the flirting what you use to motivate her?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it works. She works her ass off trying to impress you."

He relaxed slightly. "What can I say? I'm good at finding what people need to make them work hard."

"That brings up a question. Are you sure the flirting isn't being misconstrued by someone? Another client perhaps?"

He shook his head. "I don't think so. I'd hope my clients would feel comfortable enough to tell me if I was making them uncomfortable, and I haven't lost a client in a while. Not until after the rumors started."

"How many clients do you have?"

"Where I do personal training like this?"

"Yeah."

"Six. I used to have seven, but I lost one recently."

"Because of the rumors?"

"She didn't say that, but that's what I think, yeah."

"What reason did she give you?"

He grimaced. "She didn't give me one, only that she was taking a break and would be back in contact with me in the future."

"Can I get a list of all your past clients?"

He shook his head. "So far, it's only been the one. As you can see, these people don't live on the same planet we do. I need to be careful."

"So, you don't want me talking to her?"

"It's not that."

"What is it then?"

"For the same reason I don't want you driving up unannounced at the gates of my current clients. All my clients, past and current, expect a certain amount of discretion. If you really think it's that important, I'll call her and see if she'll agree to talk to you."

"Considering she fired you, yeah, that's someone I'd like to talk to."

He sighed. "Okay. Let me ask, and if she agrees, I'll give you her name. Agreed?" He could tell she didn't like him putting the leash on her, but there was nothing for it.

"Yeah, sure. Okay." She brightened. "Now where? What rich and famous person are you going to introduce me to next?"

"Joe."

"Who's Joe?"

"The guy that makes the best baked chicken in California."

"No more stars today?"

He shook his head. "That's it for today. I'll treat you to lunch, or I can drop you back at your office."

"What are you doing the rest of the day?"

"I make it a point to stop in at my gyms on occasion. The places have my name on the sign, and I want the members to see me taking a personal interest in them. Unless you've got something else, why don't you come along? You wanted to see what I do. You might as well see all of it."

"It's your money. If that's how you want to spend it."

He bobbed his head once. "If it helps you get to the bottom of this, it's money well spent."

She opened her car door. "Fair enough."

.

.

.

FIVE

As Daniel drove them to the restaurant, Shay pondered what she knew thus far. Dan was an interesting mix of contradictions. He more or less admitted he was a player, but at the same time, he seemed to have a strong internal moral code. He had access to some of the wealthiest and most beautiful women on the planet, at least one of whom would take him to her bed without a moment's hesitation, yet he didn't take advantage of that.

He was clearly a flirt, but Mairead relished the attention, and it did motivate her to work hard. She glanced at him. Hell, who wouldn't? When he was working with Gregory earlier, he did little more than set up the machines and spot, but with Mairead, he was right there in the thick of it with her, and had worked up a good sweat.

Shay hadn't understood a lot of what Mairead said except by context. Wabbit. Bawbag. Bassa. One thing Shay could easily understand was Mairead's attraction to him, because goddamn was he tasty with his thin, sweat soaked shirt sticking to him like a second skin. She might be a little cynical about people because of her job, but that didn't mean she was blind.

What she had to be careful of was allowing her perception of him to be influenced by his current actions. With her tagging along he was probably on his best behavior. The problem was, she could easily understand his reluctance to give her his clients' names. She almost didn't get in to see Mairead, and she was with him. If she showed up unannounced, she knew she'd get nowhere. These people were used to every crazy in the world with a story, showing up at their gate and asking to see them.

She also had to guard against being biased by the fact he didn't hover or coach. When she wanted to ask her questions, he disappeared, which made it seem he was a man who had nothing to fear or hide. When she got back to her office, she'd transcribe her interviews. If something was amiss in Mairead or Gregory's statements, that's when she'd notice and get her first inkling that something was off about his story.

"You're quiet," Dan said as his car purred along.

"Thinking." She could tell he wanted to ask but held his tongue, so she threw him a bone. "I'm trying to work out your reputation as a lady's man with what I've heard from Mr. Mills and Ms. Cowan."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you think Mairead's pretty?"

As they rolled to a stop at a light he held her gaze. "I think she's stunning. Don't you?"

She nodded. "Yet, even though she would gladly take you to her bed, you don't take advantage of that. Just like Gregory said his granddaughter all but tried to rape you. That's an easy score, and you said she was attractive enough. That doesn't really follow with your reputation, does it?"

They wailed slowly away as he shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you. I don't sleep with my clients. That's potentially very bad for business."

"Abbigale Millotti wasn't a client."

"The granddaughter of a client, then, with him there. Knowing him, the old bastard would probably want to watch. Besides, I do have some morals. I don't have to sleep with every woman I meet just to add a notch to my belt."

She watched the world pass outside her side window so he wouldn't see her smile. "That doesn't sound like a player to me. I thought that was the whole point of it, how you keep score."

"It's not a game, Shay," he said, his voice firm with a hint of annoyance. "Have I slept around? Yeah. Probably more than I should have. Mom and Dad would be horrified if they knew how many different women I've been with. But I've never thought of it as a game. I've never tried to bed someone just so I could say I had. Every woman I slept with I was attracted to in some way. Maybe it was her sense of humor. Maybe I thought she had a beautiful face or body. Maybe she was interesting to talk to. Maybe I liked her smile, but it was something. I never once picked up a woman with the sole purpose of bedding her so I could impress my friends. And contrary to popular belief, I didn't sleep with every woman I talked to. If we didn't click..." he shrugged. She stared at him. "What?" he asked after a moment.

She scratched her neck as she tried to put into words what she was thinking. "That's interesting. You admit you slept around, but you deny being a player?" she asked, making bunny ears in the air with her fingers on the last word.

"If by player, you mean a guy that sleeps with women to impress his friends, or to maintain his reputation, then yeah, I deny that."

"You're not very picky if you are attracted to that many women."

"There's a big difference between finding a woman appealing enough for an evening of fun and wanting to make a lifetime commitment to her."

"I see. So, your standards are lower if all you want to do is get laid?"

He winced slightly with the sting of her words. "Ouch! That's kind of harsh, don't you think?"

"I'm just trying to find out who you really are. Once I know that, I'll have better insight into who is doing this to you. Do my questions make you uncomfortable?"

"Yeah, a little, but to answer your question, I guess the answer would have to be yes, but isn't that true of everyone? Did you want to spend the rest of your life with every guy you went to bed with?"

She thought about it a moment before her lips thinned and her head twitched involuntarily. "No. You're right. Sometimes you just want an itch scratched, and the person you're talking to fills the need."

"See? I'm no different. Look, I'll freely admit I enjoy the company of women... a lot. They smell good, they're pleasant to look at, they're a delight to touch, and a joy to listen to. What's not to like?"

She couldn't stop her smile. "Now I know why you get laid all the time."

"Why?"

"You're smooth as hell."

"Nah. I'm just answering your questions. Take you for example. I really like your no-nonsense attitude. I also like the fact you don't mind asking the hard, uncomfortable questions. I'll be honest with you, I was a little unsure about hiring you, but I can see now I'm in good hands."

"Already?"

He shrugged with a grin. "The fact you're willing to call me out and question me, the guy that's paying you, makes me believe you're not afraid to dig for the truth, no matter where it may be. I have nothing to hide, Shay. You dig as deep as you want, and I'll be right behind you, helping you move the dirt out of the way so you can keep digging."

"Okay, that answers that, but why were you hesitant to hire me in the first place? Because I'm a woman?" She watched as he flushed slightly, but she couldn't be mad at him. He was no different than anyone else, and it was a problem she'd been fighting since the beginning.

"Not so much that, but I went in expecting to see a guy. I've never met a private detective before. I had this mental image of Humphry Bogart, you know? But there wasn't a bottle of bourbon or a fedora in sight."

"Investigations are more about asking people questions than gun fights, car chases, and femme fatales."

He winked at her as he turned into a small, open-air, restaurant. "I don't know. I think you could lure a lot of men into all kinds of compromising positions."

She grinned again and said nothing, but she found his gentle teasing fun. He was smooth indeed.

"This is lunch?" she asked, mainly to change the subject.

"This is it. The Farmacy."

She glanced at him, her confusion clear on her face. "The Pharmacy?"

He grinned. "Yeah. Spelled F A R M A C Y. They're farm to fork from local suppliers, and everything on their menu is relatively healthy."

She snickered. "Clever."

After parking the car, he led her to an outside table and they sat down in chairs that wouldn't look out of place on the beach, with a brightly colored umbrella providing shade. A few minutes later an attractive young woman appeared.

"Hey, Dan! Haven't seen you around in a while. Been busy?"

"Always. Up for any parts?"

The woman beamed. "Yeah! I'm up for some mo-cap work on the new Harwich project that is going into production, Golems! I need to get with you and do some strength training. I hear those rigs are heavy."

"Stop by one of the fitness centers sometime. We've got people to help you with that. Tell them I sent you and they'll take extra good care of you."

The woman glanced at Shay, leaving her with the impression that if she hadn't been there, the waiter would have had more to say. "You want your usual?"

"Yes, please."

She turned her attention to Shay. "What can I get you?"

Shay hadn't even glanced at the menu. She was almost certain there was history between these two, and even though she'd been holding the menu like she was reading it, she'd been listening instead. She folded the menu and placed it on the table. "If he has a usual it must be good, so I'll have what he's having."

"Two marinated chicken breasts on a pita, coming up."

"One of yours?" Shay asked as soon as the other woman was out of hearing.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on, Dan, don't play dumb with me."

He sighed. "Yeah, I've slept with her. How'd you know?"

"This is what I do. You two seem to be on pretty good terms."

"Why wouldn't we be?"

"I think she wants another personal strength training session," she teased.

He frowned at her. "Like I told you in your office, you're not my mother. Who I've slept with isn't really any of your business."

"You made it my business when you hired me. As I said then, strangers don't accuse each other of sexual harassment. Whoever is doing this is someone you've had contact with. What's her name?"

"Mari... Maranda."

"I'll be right back," Shay said as she slid back from the table.

Shay entered the small indoor seating area and glanced around. It was a typical mid-level restaurant with booths and tables arrayed around the room, a tile floor, and like most interesting or unique eateries in LA, had a few signed pictures of actors on the wall. Maranda was working at the register as Shay approached.

"Maranda, may I have a word with you?"

"Something wrong?"

"No, nothing. I just need to talk to you for five minutes. Can you spare the time?"

Maranda glanced into the kitchen. "Yeah, five minutes. Let me finish putting your order in." She poked at the register a moment more and then looked at Shay. "What can I help you with?"

Shay jerked her head and led the woman to a table tucked in the corner. "It's about Mr. Beckette. I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Who's Mr. Beckette?"

"Dan."

"Oh. What about him?"

"You're relationship with him."

Maranda began shaking her head. "I don't think that's any of your business."

"You heard about the rumors?"

"What rumors?"

"Someone is accusing him of sexual harassment. He hired me to try to get to the bottom of it. You haven't heard?"

"No. Who's accusing him of that?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out. Right now, I'm trying to get a handle on him as a person, so I can get an idea of where to start looking, and you can help me by answering a few questions."

"I don't know if I should."

"If he says it's okay, then will you talk to me?"

Maranda hesitated while clearly thinking it over. "Yeah, I guess," she said slowly.

"Let's go ask him," Shay said as she rose from the booth and led Maranda outside. "Maranda is hesitant to talk to me to protect your privacy."

He smiled at her. "You'd be doing me a huge favor, Mari, if you'd honestly answer anything she asks."

"You're sure?"

"Do me this favor, please?" He smiled at her and gave her a nod of encouragement.

She watched him a moment, nodded, and then looked at Shay. "What do you want to know?"

Shay led Maranda back inside to the table they'd occupied before. It was almost two and most of the lunch crowd was gone, so they had a bit of privacy.

Shay placed her phone on the table. "I'm going to record this, so I don't miss anything, okay?"

"Uhhh..." Maranda grunted.

"Let me assure you the recording is only for me. After I transcribe the information into my files, so I can present a complete report to Mr. Beckette, the recording will be deleted."

"Okay... I guess," Maranda said, her doubt still clear.

Shay touched the app to start the recording, and quickly stated the case, date, time, location, and Maranda's name. "Tell me about Mr. Beckette."

"Nothing to tell. He's a regular here. Comes in a couple times a month, usually."

"You and he dated?"

"I'd be so lucky. Not dated, no."

"But you were intimate with him?"

Maranda's mouth twisted to the side with the memory. "You could say that."

"What do you mean?"

Her smile spread slightly. "If you call him taking me back to my place and fucking me stupid, then yeah, we were intimate."

"Whose idea was that?"

"What? To fuck? Both of ours, I guess. I mean, he asked me out, but I invited him back to my place."

"No regrets?"

She spluttered. "Only that I haven't been able to talk him into doing it again."

"That good, huh?"

She giggled. "You don't know?"

"No. Our relationship is strictly professional."

"Then you don't know what you're missing." She smiled at Shay wistfully. "Yeah, it was that good. Sure, it was a one-night stand, but he was sweet about it, you know? He didn't act like because we were having dinner, he expected anything else. When I invited him in, he didn't pressure me, and then he didn't fuck me and just leave me lying there in a sweaty bed. We actually cuddled and talked a little. He stayed the night and made me breakfast the next morning. He asked me if I was okay, like he actually cared about my feelings." Her smile became slightly sad. "I asked him if he'd call me, and he said he didn't have my number, but that he'd see me at Farmacy. So yeah, it was that good. He didn't treat me like a whore... in fact, he treated me better after one night than some of my boyfriends do after months."

"When was this?"

She shrugged. "I don't remember exactly. A year ago, maybe a little more."

"Did he ask you out again?"

"No," she said softly. "I hinted, but..." She shrugged. "He was never nasty or anything, and didn't talk down to me, but after a couple of hints." She paused. "We had an ice cream once after that. He paid, but I could tell he'd friend-zoned me."

"How'd that make you feel?"

"Sad. Disappointed. When we went for the ice cream, I asked him back to my place, but..."

"But...?" Shay prompted.

Maranda sighed. "He was sweet. He apologized if he'd led me on, and told me he hoped I wasn't mad at him, and that he'd like to still come to Farmacy, but if it upset me, he'd stop." She shrugged again. "I was disappointed, but I decided that I did like him, so..."

"So...?"

Maranda looked up and held Shay's gaze. "So, I told him no, it was all good... and I keep hoping."

"Hoping he'd un-friend-zone you?" Shay asked. Maranda nodded. "And if he doesn't?"

Maranda shrugged yet again, adding a sideways rock of her head this time. "I'm a big girl. I'll get over it."

"What do you think of the rumors?"

"Like I said, I haven't heard them, but I don't believe them. I'm nobody special, so why would he treat me that way unless that was how he treated everyone? As I told you, he doesn't try to avoid me or pretend it didn't happen, and most importantly, he doesn't make me feel like a cheap whore for sleeping with him. He seems like a really good guy."

"So, just to be clear, you like him, and you'd go out with him again?"

"In a heartbeat. In case you haven't noticed, he's super-hot, but he's not full of himself, and like I said, he didn't make me feel like a whore for sleeping with him on the first date. So yeah, I'd date the shit out of him, and not just because he can curl my toes."

"Mari! Order up!" a voice called.

"I've got to go. But I'll tell you this, I don't believe a word of the rumors. If someone said something like that to me, they'd better have proof, or I'd call them a damned liar to their face."

Maranda rose, went to the counter, and then followed Shay out to their table with their food.

"Thanks for talking with me," Shay said as she took her chair.

"No problem," Maranda said, her voice hard as she quickly placed their meals on the table.

"Mari? Everything okay?" Dan asked.

"No. She told me someone was spreading rumors about you, and it pisses me off, that's all." She turned and stomped away.

"What did you say to her?" he asked Shay, his tone firm and his eyes hard.

"Nothing. I asked her what she thought about you, and she told me."

"Why is she upset then?"

"Don't know. Maybe it's just what she said. I didn't say anything to upset her, and she was very defensive of you. You made quite an impression."

They ate, and she had to admit, the food was surprisingly delicious, especially considering it was supposed to be good for her. Maranda refilled their glasses, and it appeared she'd mellowed in the ten minutes since she'd brought their food.

They finished eating, Dan paying for their lunch even though Shay offered to pay for her own. She didn't expense meals to clients unless she spent more than ten continuous hours on their case. He also left Maranda a one hundred percent tip, so no wonder she liked him.

They walked to his car and settled into it. "Tell me something. Why just one night?" Shay asked as he started the car.

"What?"

"Maranda. Why just one night with her? Wasn't she good in bed?"

"None of your business."

"She said you rocked her world. That's why I wondered. She's the kind of woman most men drool over. Blonde. Big tits. Pretty face. Tight ass. Bubbly personality. She told me straight up she'd love to date you. So why don't you? Not good enough for you?"

"No! What difference does it make?"

"Maybe none. Maybe a lot."

He sighed. "I don't know. Just not the right person, I guess. I was just starting to settle down when I asked her out. I can't remember for sure, but she might have been the last of my one-night stands. If she wasn't my last, she was one of my last."

"What changed?"

"You mean why'd I stop sleeping around?"

"Yeah."

He sighed again. "I don't know. I really don't. I guess I got tired of it and was looking for something more." He grinned at her. "What is it that women say? They can hear their biological clock ticking?"

"Yeah, something like that. Have you thought about asking her out again?"

He bobbed his head side to side as he scrunched his nose. "No, not really. I can't even say why. I like her, but I can't see myself spending the rest of my life with her. She's too committed to breaking into the movies. I'd always be second to that. That's fine when it's just about sex, but I'm starting to look for something more than that."

Dan was a much more complex guy than she'd given him credit for. "You're looking for a relationship?"

"Yeah, I guess you can say that."

"What does mo-cap mean?"

"Slang for motion capture. They dress you up in a suit with markers on it, then you act out whatever it is you're supposed to do. Using a bunch of cameras, a computer tracks the markers, then they replace you with some CGI character. In Mari's case, if she gets the gig, I guess she'll be one of the golems."

"You've been on television or in movies?"

"No movies. I've done a little television. In one I was the pool guy in the background, in another a dead body. There were a couple more, all non-speaking background roles. In my only speaking role, I played an Olympic athlete accused of raping a girl. Go figure." A slight smiled danced over his lips. "That's when I knew acting wasn't for me."

"Why?"

He grinned in good humor. "Someone wrote, 'Daniel Beckette has never acted in a supporting role in a television program before, and after his appearance on Selko, he still hasn't.'"

She grimaced in sympathetic, if teasing, pain. "That's brutal!"

"Yeah, but it's true. I decided to leave the acting to someone else and do what I know."

They chatted about this and that until they rolled to a stop in front of a brightly lit space tucked into a strip mall, Daniel Beckette Fitness Center displayed across the top in big, bold, blue letters. It appeared the space the fitness center occupied may have once been a grocery store or some other large retail outlet.

"You have three of these?"

"Yeah. I'm trying to franchise them."

"Any luck?"

"Not yet, but I'm still working on it."

He led her inside. The place was large, bright, and full of gleaming machines. Televisions were everywhere, and there were a couple of good-looking instructors, one male and one female, walking around, offering tips and wiping down machines. It appeared to be a well-oiled operation.

He spent thirty minutes or so ambling around and saying hello to members, laughing and talking with the guests while offering a word of encouragement here or a suggestion there. He had a way with people, that much was clear to her.

After he'd made the rounds through his business, and spoke to the on-duty instructors, they returned to his car before he dropped her off at her office.

He rolled the passenger window down as she shut the door behind her. "What's the plan?" he asked through the passenger window as his car purred quietly.

"I need to talk to the rest of your personal training clients."

"Same time tomorrow, then? I have three appointments. That'll leave you only one more."

"Plus the one that dropped you."

"Plus the one that dropped me," he agreed. "I'll call her tonight and see if she is willing to talk to you."

"Okay. Thanks, Dan."

"I'll see you tomorrow."

When she nodded, he zipped away, barely slowing before turning onto the road, his Porsche howling like a banshee as he raced away. She sighed and unlocked her door. She needed to transcribe the interviews, but she hated working at home. This was the third worst part of her job, but like her dad had told her once, 'Investigations are like taking a shit... the job isn't done until the paperwork is finished.' With a sigh she sat down at her desk and set to work, listening to the interviews as her fingers danced over the keyboard.

.

.

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SIX

As Dan left Clearview Investigations, he couldn't decide if he liked Shay crawling up his ass with a microscope or not. On the one hand, her actions proved she was thorough, but on the other hand, having someone digging into all his past relationships wasn't a comfortable experience, even if he didn't have anything to hide. Having her laying it out with Maranda had made him feel like a cad.

He knew when he decided to take the bull by the horns, the experience wouldn't be comfortable. Though he never intended to hurt anyone, and had tried to treat all the women he dated with respect, his past was starting to come back to bite him in the ass. With a sigh, he flipped through his contacts while waiting at a stop light. He selected the number and then tossed the phone aside as it rang through the car's speakers.

"Greer."

"Greer, Daniel Beckette. Sorry to bother you. May I have two minutes of your time?"

"What do you want?"

He grimaced. She didn't sound pleased to hear from him. "I'd like you to talk to someone for me."

"Who?"

"Shay Caddel. She's a private investigator I've hired to try to get to the bottom of these rumors floating around."

"I don't know, Dan. I like you, but I want to stay away from that."

"I understand. If you could just talk to her on the phone? I'm sure it won't take much time, and it'd really help me out."

Greer was quiet for a long moment as Dan mentally crossed his fingers, and then she sighed. "Okay. I'll give her ten minutes, on the phone. That's the best I can do."

"Thanks, Greer. I appreciate you helping me out. When would be a good time for her to call?"

"Tomorrow, between nine and ten. Ten minutes, Daniel. That's it."

"That's enough. Thanks! I owe you one."

"You get this mess cleared up, you can give me a free session."

A smile flashed over his lips. "You got it. Thanks again."

He hung up and immediately called Shay. "Clearview Investigations."

"Shay, Dan. I just spoke with Greer Schoenmaker. She's agreed to give you ten minutes between nine and ten tomorrow."

"The Greer Schoenmaker, CEO of Crystal Resorts International? That Greer Schoenmaker?"

"Yes, so be polite. You'll have to do the interview over the phone. That's the best I could do."

"That's fine. Thanks for setting that up for me."

"No problem. On the call, she confirmed she cut me loose because of the rumors. That's something, I guess."

"Hopefully we can get this cleared up quickly."

"Hopefully. I'll see you in the morning."

"Nine am," she replied.

"Nine am," he repeated before hanging up.

He let out a long slow breath. The stress of fighting off the rumors was starting to get to him, and having Shay asking questions that made him examine the last five years of his life didn't help. He was almost home when his phone rang. He glanced at the name on the screen before rolling his eyes. He almost didn't answer, but he knew from experience if he didn't, she'd keep calling until he did. He accepted the call.

"Ms. Dunnally, what can I do for you?"

"So formal, Daniel. You used to call me Gale."

"That was before. How can I help you?"

"I'm calling to see if you changed your mind about my private sessions."

"Ms. Dunnally, Gale, I told you, my schedule is full. I'm sorry."

"You're not fooling me, Daniel. I happen to know an opening has become available in the last couple of weeks. Surely you can slot me in?" she asked, her voice dripping with sex and promises.

Gail Dunnally was the executive producer of the most lucrative series of young-adult films in history, and the owner of the production company that made them. She was incredibly rich, successful, and used to be one of Dan's regulars. She was in her mid-fifties, still attractive, and wasn't used to people telling her no, but that's exactly what he'd done.

He'd been working with her for about six months, and she was getting ever bolder in expressing her desire to take him as a lover. Not only was she a client, she was also married, so that was a double no go from him. She claimed she was in an open marriage and was free to sleep with anyone she wanted, as was her husband, but that didn't matter to him. He wasn't going to sleep with another man's wife, open marriage or not.

He'd finally told her if her advances didn't stop, he was dropping her as a client. That had, at first, pissed her off, then she'd changed tactics. She decided that if she wasn't a client, he'd be free to take her to bed. When he still refused, because of her being married, she'd become even more forward. He could only assume he'd become a personal challenge. He'd finally carried out his threat and dropped her. At first, she was mad about it, and he didn't hear from her for almost a year, but in the last couple of months, she'd started calling again, trying to retain his services.

"No, I'm sorry."

"Don't be so quick to say no, Daniel," she wheedled. "I can make it worth your while."

"I don't want your money, Gail."

"I wasn't talking about money, though if that's what you want, I can give you that too. I'll double your rate."

"Not interested."

"Would it be so bad?"

"I told you, I don't sleep with my clients."

"But I'm not your client anymore."

"No, but you're married. That's even more of a reason."

She sighed. "Nothing I can do will change your mind?"

"No. I'm sorry. My schedule is full, and with these rumors flying around, I need to remain squeaky clean."

"I've heard about them. Such a shame, having your name dragged down like that. If it keeps up, you may lose even more of your clients. Then what will you do? You might decide my offer isn't so bad after all."

A rush of heat washed over him. Shay had asked if there was anyone holding a grudge, and he'd said no, but someone came to mind now.

"The answer is still no. I'm sorry."

Gail sighed dramatically. "Okay, but you can't fault me for asking. I really need someone to motivate me into getting some exercise. You know, someone who can really give me a good workout. You were always good at that."

"I'll be happy to recommend someone."

"No, that's okay. I can wait. I hope you don't mind if I call you again in a month or so to see if you've changed your mind."

"I won't change my mind."

"Well, I think I'll call anyway, just to be sure. Thank you, Daniel. I'll see you around."

"When they're selling ice cream in hell," he growled when he was sure the call had ended.

He started to call Shay again and tell her about Gail, but changed his mind. He'd tell her in the morning after he had a little time to digest what she'd said. She hadn't said anything she hadn't before except for the comment about the rumors.

He realized he was prepared to blame her for the allegations. That snide little comment made him wonder if she was willing to wreck his career for the sole purpose of driving him to her bed... or maybe she was doing it out of spite. He didn't know, but whatever reason she had for doing it, if she was doing it, it wouldn't work. His personal training sessions were a tiny part of his income. He did it, mostly, as a way to keep his name relevant for his fitness centers and the website. 'Personal Fitness Instructor to the stars' had a nice ring to it, and it helped sell web subscriptions and fitness center memberships. The fitness centers were starting to make money, but the bulk of his income came from the website subscriptions and the endorsement deal he had with Viking exercise equipment, allowing him to view the personal training as little more than advertising.

He rolled to a stop at his apartment complex and slapped his badge against the sensor to raise the gate for the garage. The more he thought about Gail's subtle threat, the madder he got. He was tempted to turn around, drive to her house, and give her what she wanted. She wanted him to fuck her? He'd fuck her. He'd fuck her until she admitted she was behind all this shit, and then he'd fuck her again in court when he sued her ass for everything she had.

Getting out of his car, he resisted the urge to slam the door before stomping to the elevator that'd take him to his apartment. He slapped his badge against the pad beside the elevator door to open it, stepped in, and pushed the button for his floor. As the elevator rose, he worked to shove the anger down.

He thought of himself as a good guy, and tried to treat everyone the way he wanted to be treated himself. Having someone intentionally trying to screw him over pissed him off like few things could. Being angry didn't help him in any way, which he'd learned during his gymnastics training. Being upset about something caused him to lose focus, or to push too hard, and he made even more mistakes. By the time the doors opened on the tenth floor, he'd regained control of himself.

Going to Gail and getting in her face, or making accusations he couldn't prove, would accomplish nothing. Tomorrow, he'd tell Shay what Gail said and let her go to work to prove or disprove what he suspected. That's what he'd hired her for. She'd wanted a place to start digging? Now she had one.

If Gail was guilty of spreading the rumors, he needed proof, and confronting her would only serve to warn her he was coming for her. The flip side was, if she wasn't guilty, he didn't want to be the guy making wild, and ultimately false, accusations. That would be even more damaging to his career than the rumors. It'd also make him no better than the person spreading false rumors about him.

He entered his apartment and tossed the Porsche's keys into the bowl on the table by the door just for that purpose. His apartment wasn't large, only about fifteen hundred square feet, but it was nicely turned out with polished wood floors and large windows that allowed him to see downtown LA. It wasn't Beverly Hills or Bel Air, but it suited him.

He flopped into his spot on the couch, laid his head back, and closed his eyes. He loved what he was doing, but life was so much simpler in Huron. There, most people looked out for each other, but here in Los Angeles, it was dog eat dog, and people would smile in your face as they drove a knife into your back if they thought it'd get them ahead.

He sat up with a sigh. Nothing for it, and now that he wasn't steaming anymore, he had to admit Gail hadn't said anything that tied her to the rumors, and he was just looking for someone to blame. He stood and looked out of his windows. The sun was setting, and the city was beginning to light up. It wasn't South Dakota, with its rugged, natural beauty, but the city had a beauty all its own.

Turning from the windows, he moved to the kitchen to prepare dinner. He was happy with his life, and didn't need anyone to complete him, but he missed Brooke. Not because she was the love of his life, but because it was nice to have someone around to talk to, to hold, and to be held by. To laugh and tease as they went about the simple tasks, like cooking... and if he was honest with himself, it was nice to have someone share his bed.

Brooke was an accountant. She might have been a whiz with numbers, but her idea of cooking was popping a store-bought frozen entr e into the oven. He couldn't eat like that because nobody could outwork a bad diet, so he did most of the cooking. While he cooked, she'd often prop against the counter with a glass of wine, and they'd talk about their days. Just having her standing in his kitchen telling him about her day took all the drudgery out of preparing their meal.

Grateful to have something else to think about other than his suspicions about Gail, he dug around in the fridge and began pulling out ingredients. He seared a piece of fish in olive oil as he prepared a side dish of cauliflower. While his hands were busy, his mind wandered.

What he missed the most after Brooke left wasn't the sex as much as the companionship and having someone to talk to. Having someone other than himself to cook for. The laughs and smiles, snuggling on the couch to watch a movie, working out together, and all the little things that changed each day from existing to living.

That was what he was missing when he was bedding a different woman each night. He and Brooke made love almost every night, and listening to her groan through a hard orgasm was more pleasing to his ear than the finest sonata.

He snorted as he flipped the fish over. What would Ms. Shay Caddel think of him, standing alone in his kitchen while musing about the lack of female companionship? She probably wouldn't believe it. He smiled to himself. He was pretty sure she saw him as nothing but a walking erection. A player, she'd called him. He had to admit he had been, in his own way, but he'd told her the truth when he said that life didn't appeal to him as much anymore.

He transferred the fish and cauliflower to his plate, moved to the small, four-person table, and began to eat. He'd taken a couple of lovers since Brooke, but it was just physical need, and the experience had reminded him of what he didn't want. The irony wasn't lost on him that the rumors of harassment had appeared after he'd started settling down.

He shook his head with an amused grunt. Karma was an absolute bitch.