“I talked to my mother earlier. I told her I was helping you and that you were on board with her sharing info with me.” He held eye contact with her to make sure he hadn’t overstepped. She nodded. “My mom says that Candace Clay had approached a divorce attorney before the scandal broke. Did she tell you that?”
“Yes, which shows you how obnoxiously phony showbiz is. According to everyone in television, they were the ‘it’ couple, so in love there were literally hearts flying out of their asses.” Gina rolled her eyes. “I guess that was a load of horse manure.”
Their public image might’ve been a complete facade, but it seemed to Sawyer that both Gina and his mother were missing the bigger point. “You don’t think the timing is strange?”
Gina hitched her shoulders. “Maybe Danny’s a huge player and Candace was sick of his infidelity long before the story about him and me broke. Who’s to say?”
“Where’s your computer?” Sawyer had an idea.
Gina got up and fetched her laptop from the bedroom. “Why?”
“I want to see something.” He snatched it from her and opened a Google image search for Candace and Danny Clay, which returned pages of pictures.
Gina perched on the arm of his chair while he sifted through the photos. “What are you looking for?”
He jumped back on the internet and pulled up the notorious wide-lens shot of Gina and Danny on the beach. “Something that looks like this with Danny or Candace or both of them in it. I’m thinking this was shot somewhere tropical.” He pointed at the palm trees in the background of the photo. Unfortunately, there were a hell of a lot of tropical beaches. “Just keep your eye out for something that has this background.” He returned to his search.
“Why them?” Gina leaned in to get a better look at the screen. “Someone could’ve superimposed Danny and me onto a beer ad for all we know.”
“You could be right, but it’s a lot less work if one of you is already in the shot. When was the last time you visited a tropical beach?”
“Uh…never. I can’t remember the last time I had a vacation, let alone one in Tahiti. And this doesn’t look anything like Malibu.” She motioned at the photograph of her and Danny that Sawyer had moved to the other half of the screen.
“Nope. That’s why we’re searching pictures of the Clays. Call it a hunch, but I’m betting they were recently somewhere that looks just like this.”
And even if his premonition didn’t pan out, it at least kept his hands busy—and off her. He was still reeling from their unprotected sex that morning. He couldn’t remember being that irresponsible, not even in high school.
“Can we do this on the couch?” She wriggled her butt on the arm.
He put the laptop down on the coffee table, lifted her off her feet, held her a little longer than he should’ve, and dropped her in the center of the sofa. Sawyer took the end of the couch and went back to scrolling through pictures.
She scooted closer to him and rested her head against his shoulder.
“If you’re tired I can do this,” he said, trying to pretend that he wasn’t affected by her nearness.
“No, I’m awake. You’re just comfy. Like a big pillow.” She yawned. “I don’t see anything.”
So far, the shots he’d found were mostly of the promotional variety. Some of them appeared to be screen grabs of past episodes of their show and there were a few pictures of the couple attending charity events.
From Candace’s tight smiles and mannequin-like poses with Danny, Sawyer wasn’t surprised that her marriage was on the rocks. Judging by the photos—Danny was all smiles and adoring glances at his wife—her husband hadn’t gotten the memo.
Or he was an Academy Award–caliber actor.
Who could honestly say? Perhaps Danny was more comfortable around a camera than his wife. Perhaps Candace had had a bad case of food poisoning when the photo had been shot. Sometimes a photo wasn’t worth a thousand words. Sometimes they were just snapshots of a single moment in time.
When Sawyer got tired of scanning publicity shots, he entered a set of new terms into the search engine.Clays. Celebrity chefs. Vacation. Beach.
The first page of photos depicted a lot of the same. Candace and Danny headshots, more pictures of the couple on the set of their show, and a collection of them posing with other celebrity chefs. The next page was filled with images of the couple at the South Beach Wine and Food Festival.
At least they were getting closer. There was actually sand in a few of the shots.
“They go every year.” Gina burrowed her head under his arm and rested her cheek against his chest. He subconsciously wound a strand of her hair around his finger.
“Do you go too?”
“Sometimes. The last few years, I bailed, sending someone from my company instead. I hate those things. It’s a lot of hobnobbing.”
From the photos it looked like one big drunken party for the rich and bored. He scrolled down, just about to give up. That’s when he saw it. A photograph of Danny and Candace on a strikingly familiar beach.
