selling. And trust me, the minute I saw that fake smile you pasted on for my benefit, I knew you came with something in mind.”
“Fine,” she said with a dark glower. “You’ve caught me. I need your help, and if there was anyone else on this planet I could ask I would. But of all the dumb bad luck, you’re the only one I can ask.”
“Sucks to be you.”
“Is that all you’ve got for me after everything we’ve been through?” she countered, her eyes glazing a little. “At one time, you loved me.”
“A long time ago.” He stared, unable to believe she threw that card down. “A very long time ago.”
She held his stare and after a long moment said, “Listen, I suppose you have no reason to care any longer, but I’m on the verge of losing everything if I don’t succeed in convincing you to become the next star of the network I work for.” At his incredulous expression, she pushed forward in a rush. “You don’t understand. This could be good for both of us. I’m not asking you to do something for me without being compensated. Trust me, the money is good. And if the pilot gets picked up, it could mean even more money with endorsements and commercial deals, and I could help you navigate the tricky contract—”
“You mean you would help me negotiate a legal document?” he mocked, and she stopped her spiel. He gave her a patronizing look. “I wouldn’t trust you to negotiate my cell phone bill.”
“I could lose everything if I don’t land this deal,” she said, her eyes filling for real this time. “Please help me, Trace. All you have to do is agree to film the pilot, and anything after that we can renegotiate. I need this. My last three shows have tanked and no one wants to hear my pitches anymore. I’m like the black plague of Hollywood.”
Trace sipped his coffee, unable to believe her nerve and unwilling to believe her tears. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out. You’re a resourceful girl.”
“Damn you, Trace,” she muttered, wiping at the moisture leaking from her eyes. “I never realized how much of an unfeeling bastard you are.”
His mouth twisted in a wry smile. “Funny, I thought the same thing about you when you threw my offer of marriage in my face right about the time when my entire world was crumbling. I guess what they say about karma is true.”
“That’s not fair and not even the same,” she said hotly. “Are you such a weak individual that you’d dredge up the past to hurt me now?”
“I’m not dredging up anything. I’m stating facts. And I wasn’t the one who brought up the past first. You tried to guilt me into dancing to your tune by bringing up our history. But, honey, what you don’t realize is that for me, the past is simply that and I have no interest in revisiting it.” He walked away with a wave. “Sorry for the wasted trip. I hope your plane doesn’t drop into the ocean on your way back to California.”
He heard her gasp and then the front door slammed again as she bolted. He hoped that was the last time he saw Delainey Clarke ever again.
And he’d mistakenly thought his crippling hangover was the worst way to start his day....
* * *
RUDE. OBNOXIOUS. Petty. Selfish—a litany of unflattering words skipped across Delainey’s brain as she drove back into town. And after she’d exhausted all the mean words she could think of to describe the man she’d once fancied herself madly in love with, she tried feverishly to think of a way to salvage the situation.
Perhaps she could find another tracker who might be willing to step into the limelight.... But even as she entertained the idea, she discarded it. That curmudgeon Pilcher wanted Trace—no substitutes would suffice—and if she didn’t deliver the man, her tiny cubicle of an office was going to get a new resident and she’d be out on the street.
How could Trace be so cold to her after everything they’d been through? They’d been high school sweethearts and his sister, Miranda, had been her best friend. At one time, they’d been thick as thieves. And now? Well, she was surprised at how much it stung that he couldn’t stand the sight of her. For the briefest moment, she toyed with the memory of Trace, his dark blond hair a tousled mess, and his eyes warm with adoration as he stared down at her, his touch as gentle as a summer breeze. Trace had always been the quiet type, but with her he’d opened up. They’d spent hours, fingers twined together, planning an imaginary future that, now as she recalled the details, had been plainly impossible given her dreams and goals.
“We’ll have two kids—twins!—and they’ll be the cutest kids on the planet, of course,” she’d chattered happily one day their senior year while they were lying side by side on his parents’ roof, staring up at the summer sky. “And you’ll, of course, be the best dad in the world because you’re so patient and kind and super smart. I’ll work in California and come home on the weekends, or maybe you could do something in California and we could get a cute apartment together. I can’t wait to live someplace where you can wear shorts and a T-shirt nearly all year long. I’m tired of all the snow and freezing my tail off.”
Trace had laughed at her impassioned declaration and then had distracted her by sealing his mouth to hers, and his tactic had worked...for a time.
But in the end, Delainey had had no intentions of staying in Homer, no matter who was doing the asking. Sadness tugged at her heartstrings for the loss of something special, but she didn’t see the sense in crying for the past when there was nothing that could be done about changing it. Besides, her future wasn’t in Homer. She belonged in warm, sunny California, where the beaches were dotted with surfers and bikini-clad girls. Already she felt the Alaskan chill seeping into her bones, trying to take up permanent residence in her marrow. No, she may have been born in Alaska to a fisherman’s family, but Delainey was meant for bigger things, which is why Trace was going to help her get what she needed, whether he wanted to or not.
So how was she supposed to encourage Trace to do something he plainly didn’t want to do?
Hollywood was filled with difficult people; she’d just have to find a way to work around Trace. And if she couldn’t do that, she’d find a way to compel him to sign on the dotted line.
She detoured from her route and headed for the Search and Rescue office. Perhaps if she couldn’t get Trace to see things her way, his boss could.
There was more than one way to skin a cat—and she was desperate enough to try anything.
CHAPTER FOUR
DELAINEY HAD BRIEFLY considered going straight to Trace’s boss to plead her case to someone in actual authority, but after taking a critical look at her travel-wrinkled clothing and the dark circles under her eyes that no amount of expensive, high-end concealer could completely hide, she knew she had to freshen up first. For that matter, now that she gave it some more thought, she probably should’ve done that before attempting to persuade Trace to join Team Delainey after such a protracted hiatus, but she’d been running on pure adrenaline and hadn’t wanted to stop to think.
Sometimes thinking was bad. She needed action, not bouts of quiet pondering.
However, since her first plan had blown up in her face in spectacular fashion, she had to adjust her tactics.
She gripped her suitcase handle and blew out a determined breath as she stared at the small house where she grew up. If only she’d had it
