What the Paparazzi Didn't See Page 7

  He fixed her with an incredulous stare. ‘Let me get this straight. You want a publishing contract and a marketing job here? After basically telling me to stick my offer—’

  ‘Call it a WAG’s prerogative to change her mind.’ She smiled, hoping it would soften him up. ‘What do you say? Do we have a deal?’

  ‘What we have here is you not telling me everything and then having the cheek to try and coerce me into giving you a job too.’

  ‘Take it or leave it.’

  Yeah, as if she could afford to call his bluff.

  If he left it, she’d be back to strapping on her stilettos and smiling for the cameras again. She shuddered.

  Those sensual lips that had explored every part of her body eased into a smile.

  ‘You drive a hard bargain, Liza, but you’ve got yourself a deal.’

  Liza could’ve hugged him.

  She settled for a sedate shake of hands, though there was nothing remotely sedate about the way her body buzzed as his fingers curled around hers.

  That part of her plan where she kept dealings with Wade strictly business?

  Would be sorely tested.

  SIX

  LIZA LITHGOW’S STYLE TIPS

  FOR MAXIMUM WAG WOW IMPACT

  The Big Chill

  Melbourne is renowned for its chilly winters but that doesn’t mean WAGs need to lose their wow. Here’s how to beat the big chill:

  Even though your body isn’t on show as much, maintain moisturised, smooth skin. Indulge in home-made natural masks made from egg whites, avocado and honey. Exfoliate dry heels, lavish with moisturiser and wear warm socks to bed. Continue to drink two litres of water a day. Evening events will continue throughout winter and you need to be at your glamorous best.

  Surround yourself with warm textiles at home. Fluffy throws and cuddly cushions, perfect for snuggling inside.

  Choose to stay home occasionally rather than doing the constant social whirl of nightclub openings, theatre and movie premieres. Curl up with a hot chocolate and watch DVDs.

  Stay warm. Invest in a pair of snug Uggs and a cosy blanket to cover yourself with while curled on the couch.

  Scented candles are perfect for creating a winter ambiance. From vanilla to cinnamon, infuse your room with warmth.

  Whip up a feast. Check out new cookbooks. Invest in a slow cooker. Surround yourself with fresh ingredients and herbs. And enjoy the results of your labour while whizzing around a warm kitchen.

  Relax. Take a long, hot bath, slip into comfy clothes, pour a glass of red and curl up on the couch with the latest best-seller.

  Warm up. On rainy days, get active. Whether yoga at home or a local Zumba class, having a workout is good for the mind, body and soul.

  Rug up and take a walk. Head to a local park or the beautiful Botanical Gardens near the city.

  A rainy day is perfect for all those little jobs you’ve put off: sort through your old photos, spring clean your closet, organise your filing cabinet. You’ll feel satisfied and warm by the end of it.

  Pep up your wardrobe. Investing in a few key pieces will glam up your look. A good quality woollen coat and black high-heeled and flat-heeled knee-high boots can be used for many seasons.

  Check out other sports. While WAGs get to attend all her partner’s games, why not learn about a new sport? Melbourne is the home of Australian Rules Football in winter. Pick a team. Don the colours and show your patriotism.

  If all else fails and the cold is getting you down, book a weekend away to escape and make sure it’s somewhere tropical. Winters in Queensland are notoriously mild and after a two-hour plane trip you could be soaking up the sun.

  Wade had given up figuring women out a long time ago.

  He dated them, he wooed them, he liked them, but that was where it ended. Any guy who lost his head over a woman was asking for trouble.

  He’d seen it firsthand with his dad.

  Not that he’d begrudged the old man happiness. Far from it. Quentin had raised him alone after his mum died when he was a toddler, devoting his time to his business and Wade with little room for anything else.

  Then when Wade had started uni Babs had come along and his dad had been smitten. Wade had been appalled.

  He’d seen right through the gold-digging younger woman; probably why Babs had hated him on sight. The feeling had been entirely mutual.

  But Wade had seen the way his dad lit up around Babs and while he’d tried to broach the delicate subject of age differences and financial situations, one ferocious glare from his dad had seen him backing down.

  They’d been married within a year and, as much as Wade hated to admit it, Babs had been good for Quentin. They’d had a good ten years together but Wade had left for London after two.

  He couldn’t pretend to like Babs and he saw what the barely hidden animosity did to his dad. It caused an irrevocable tension between them and while neither of them mentioned it, it was there all the same.

  Wade had stayed away deliberately, only catching up with Quentin on his infrequent trips to London, invariably alone. They talked publishing and the digital revolution and cricket but Wade never asked how Babs was and his dad never volunteered the information.

  The fact he hadn’t seen his dad in the fifteen months before his death? And that Quentin hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him the truth about the heart condition that had ultimately killed him? The biggest regret of Wade’s life and the sole reason he was here, trying to save the company that had meant the world to his dad.

  He should’ve known about his dad’s dodgy heart. He should’ve had the opportunity to make amends for deliberately fostering emotional distance between them.

  Instead, guilt had mingled with his sorrow, solidifying into an uncomfortable mass of self-recrimination and disgust.

  He didn’t trust easily and his scepticism of Babs had ultimately driven his dad away.

  He’d regretted it every day since his dad’s funeral.

  Hopefully, saving Qu would help ease the relentless remorse that he’d stuffed up royally when it came to Quentin.

  While Wade had left Qu a long time ago, he kept abreast of developments and when rumours of employee dissatisfaction, low sales and financial strife reached him in London following Quentin’s death, he knew what he had to do.

  Throw in the fact his dad had barely been buried before Babs had started flinging around terms like ‘white elephant’ and ‘financial drain’ in relation to Qu, and Wade had had no choice.

  He’d appointed his deputy as acting CEO in London and hightailed it back to Melbourne as fast as he could.

  Just in time too, judging by the board’s lukewarm response to his plans to save the business.

  As for his confrontation with Babs before the party yesterday...he’d been right about her all along.

  Thank goodness his dad had been smart enough to leave a very precise will. Babs got the multimillion-dollar Toorak mansion and a stack of cash. He got the business.

  But sadly, the bulk of his dad’s shares had passed on to Babs too and that meant they now had equal voting rights with the board.

  If she whispered in the right ears—and she had from all accounts—if it came to a vote they’d sell Qu Publishing out from under him.

  He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t, now he had Liza on board.

  Thinking of Liza brought him full circle back to his original supposition.

&n
bsp; He’d given up trying to figure women out.

  Which was why he had no clue why she’d had a mini meltdown half an hour earlier. And why he didn’t trust her complete about-face in regard to his offer.

  One minute she’d been fiery and defiant, the next he’d found her in a defeated heap near the elevator.

  Whoever had rung her had delivered bad news. And the thought it could’ve been some guy who’d devastated her rankled.

  He’d assumed she was entanglement-free last night, but what if there was some guy in the picture, an ex she was hung up on? And why the hell did it matter?

  Whatever had happened via that phone call, it had provided a major shake-up for her to switch from a vehement refusal to accepting his offer. It made him wonder, had it been a ruse? A plan on her part to get him to up the advance?

  He didn’t think so, for her devastation had been real when he’d found her crumpled beside the elevator. But his ingrained lack of trust couldn’t be shaken and her vacillating behaviour piqued his curiosity meter.

  Was Liza genuine or was she a damned good actress? And if so, what was her motivation?

  Ultimately, it shouldn’t matter. He couldn’t afford to be distracted. It would take all his concentration to ensure her biography hit the shelves within a record six months. He had editors, buyers, online marketing managers and a host of other people to clue in to the urgency of this release.

  Not that he’d tell them why. Having a publisher on the brink of implosion didn’t exactly inspire confidence in the buyers who’d stock this book in every brick-and-mortar and digital store in the country.

  He needed their backing for this book to go gangbusters following a speedy release. It would take every moment of his time making it happen.

  So why the persistent niggle that having Liza stride into his office the first time, and later agree to his offer, was the best thing to happen to him on a personal level in a long time?

  He’d been thinking about contacting her anyway, getting one of the company’s investigative hounds onto finding her. Thankfully, that wasn’t necessary. But the fact she was the WAG every publisher in town had been hounding for a tell-all? Threw him. And made him doubt his own judgement, which he hated.

  Had his first impressions been correct? Was she a woman not to be trusted?

  He couldn’t afford to have this book deal fall through and with Liza’s abrupt about-face—shirking his offer then accepting it—what was to say it wouldn’t happen again?

  She’d verbally agreed to the deal but until he had her signature on a contract he wouldn’t be instigating any processes.

  Damn, he wished he knew her better so he could get a handle on her erratic behaviour.

  She’d seemed introverted last night, reluctant to flirt, at complete odds with the image of WAGs he had.

  In London, a day didn’t go by without the tabloids reporting exploits of sports stars’ wives and girlfriends, from what they wore to a nightclub opening to rumours of catfights.

  The woman he’d coaxed into having a drink with him last night, the woman who’d later blown his mind with sensational sex, didn’t fit his image of a WAG.

  Which begged the question, what had Liza done to make her notorious?

  What was her real story?

  Considering he’d just emailed her a publishing contract, guess he’d soon find out.

  * * *

  Liza had less than twenty-four hours to come up with a plausible life story. One far removed from the truth.

  She’d been in a daze on the tram ride home, stunned how quickly her life had morphed from orderly to disastrous.

  Though it could’ve been a lot worse if she didn’t have Wade’s offer to agree to.

  For as much as it pained her to contemplate he might have used her to get what he wanted, she’d be in real trouble if his publishing contract hadn’t been on the table.

  It had pinged into her inbox the moment she’d arrived home and she’d scoured the contract, expecting hidden clauses and a bunch of legalese. Surprisingly, the contract was straightforward and the sizable advance eased the constriction in her chest that had made breathing difficult since she’d taken that call from Ullric.

  Once she’d forwarded it to Jimmy’s manager—who also happened to be one of the best entertainment lawyers in the country—she sat down with a pen and paper, determined to have bullet points ready for her first meeting with the ghost writer tomorrow.

  Wade wanted a specific kind of book: a complete tell-all highlighting the juicy, glamorous, scandalous aspects of her life as a WAG. Yet another reason why she’d have to leave Cindy out of it.

  He’d also assured her the story of her life would be well written and focused on the facts, but Liza read widely and was wise enough to know ghost writers liked to embellish, taking a little fictional creativity along the way.

  Let them. Considering she was doing the same thing, giving an embroidered account of her life while withholding important facts—namely Cindy’s existence—she couldn’t begrudge the writer that.

  Why should she care? Wasn’t as if the media had never invented stuff about her to sell papers or magazines.

  While she’d been with Jimmy there’d been a never-ending list of supposed indiscretions. Smile at a world champion tennis pro and she was accused of having an affair. Lean too close to hear a rock star’s boring diatribe at a nightclub, ditto.

  She’d grown immune after a while, knowing it went with the territory. But not a day went by when she didn’t feel like telling the truth and ramming her side of the story down their lying throats.

  Then she’d arrive home after yet another movie premiere or restaurant opening or fashion-label launch, curl up next to Cindy on the couch, and know it was all worthwhile.

  There was nothing she wouldn’t do for her little sis. Including manufacture a life story to give the masses something they’d probably invent anyway, and secure Cindy’s future in the process.

  * * *

  Liza arrived at Qu Publishing at nine on the dot the next morning, dressed to impress and armed with her extensive list.

  She wanted to wow the ghost writer and to do that she’d donned her WAG persona, from sleek blow-dried hair to lashings of make-up, seamed stockings and sky-high black patent leather stilettos to a tight crimson sheath dress with long sleeves and a low neckline.

  Power dressing at its best and if the reaction of the guys who passed her on Collins Street was any indication, she’d achieved her first goal: make a dazzling first impression.

  She found it infinitely amusing that guys would barely give her a second glance when she did the grocery shopping with her hair snagged in a low ponytail and no make-up, wearing yoga pants and a hoodie, yet dressed in a slinky outfit with enough make-up to hide a million flaws and they drooled. Fickle fools.

  As she paced the reception area she wondered if that was what had captured Wade’s attention at the party. Her fake outer shell. Or was her name enough, when he’d wanted her to sign on the dotted line all along?

  Then again, what he’d said had been true. She’d approached him. Engaged him in conversation. Even flirted a little, and he hadn’t known her name. Not until later at The Martini Bar.

  His admission had soothed her wounded ego for all of two seconds before she realised a smart guy like him would’ve researched her to get as much info on the WAG he wanted so badly, so would’ve known what she looked like from the countless pictures online.


  Stupid thing was, she wanted to believe him, wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt that the way they’d hooked up at the Westin had been about a strong sexual attraction and a mutual need to escape.

  But Liza had been let down by people her entire life, especially those closest to her, and had learned healthy distrust wasn’t such a bad thing.

  She’d idolised her dad. He’d left when he couldn’t handle having a disabled daughter.

  She’d idolised her mum. Yet her mother hadn’t been able to handle things either. When Louisa had finally left it had almost been a relief because the tension in the house had dissipated and Liza had been more than happy to step up with Cindy.

  She’d been doing it for years anyway.

  While she wanted to hate Wade for using sex as a way to get her onside, part of her couldn’t help but be grateful his offer had still been on the table after the way she’d stormed out of his office.

  Without that contract and advance, she’d be screwed. And he’d given her a job to boot.

  Not many executives would’ve given in to her crazy demand for a job alongside a significant contract offer, but he’d done it.

  Probably out of desperation to have her agree to his proposal but, whatever his rationale, she was grateful.

  He’d agreed to let her focus on marketing her biography for a start, which was a good way to ease into her new career. She might have been handed a dream job on a platter but the fact she hadn’t actually worked in marketing since she gained her degree six years earlier went some way in denting her fake confidence.

  If she screwed this up, not only would she have an irate publisher on her hands, she’d be fired before her job had begun.

  Along with spinning a bunch of embellished half-truths for the ghost writer, she had to spend her days coming up with whiz-bang marketing plans and meeting with Wade.

  She didn’t know which of the three options terrified her most.