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straightened as he strode up to her, his boots echoing on the worn wood floor. Despite his tight expression, she put on her friendly greet-the-customer face. “Hi, sourpuss. Is it just me who ticks you off, or don’t you ever smile?”
    “It’s definitely you.”
    Not even the slightest hint of humor softened the hard line of his jaw. Still, his bad day didn’t have to ruin her good one. “What did I do this time?” she asked, not because she cared, but just because he looked like he might explode if he didn’t vent.
    “You’ve been busy, haven’t you?” He slapped a stack of papers on the glass countertop.
    The banner on the top one read National Tattler . Tabloids. Mildly curious, she turned it to face her. “Did they mention me?”
    He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Her photo filled most of the front page. One arm was extended toward the camera, and she appeared to be lecturing someone. From the pose and the grainy quality, she assumed it had been taken with a camera phone the other night at the Alpine Sky, probably as she faced down the Blaster. Anger wasn’t her most flattering expression. Against the dark background, large yellow headlines next to the photo proclaimed, “Rafe De Luca and Girlfriend Caught in Rowdy Bar Brawl.”
    Maggie wrinkled her nose and shoved the paper toward him. “Don’t worry, I cleared that up yesterday morning.”
    He gave her a tight smile. “I know.” Removing the Tattler , he shoved the pile back at her.
    The Hollywood Scene lay on top. She blinked twice at the large color photo of her, mouth open in a startled expression, before recognizing the moment from the parking lot behind the store. They hadn’t wasted any time. Banner headlines declared, “Rafe’s Bar Bimbo Denies Criminal Past.”
    “What!” Sudden weakness hit her knees so hard she leaned against the glass cabinet for support. Grabbing the paper, she held it in shaking hands. “I told that idiot I didn’t have a police record!”
    “Obviously,” Cal drawled. “Which is exactly what he reported—you denied having a criminal past.”
    She swallowed, but still only managed a whisper. “That bastard.”
    Wordlessly, Cal took the paper from her hands and handed her the last one. Lurid red headlines on a white background proclaimed, “Rafe De Luca in Love Triangle with Local Hottie!” Next to it, a picture of Maggie smiling in front of the store cut off half the name, displaying just the word “Folly” above her head. Below, in a smaller font, “Mystery Man Flees the Scene,” and “Rafe Can’t Keep His Hands Off Me! Maggie Claims.”
    “Oh, my God,” Maggie groaned. “It’s not over, is it?”
    Cal lifted one eyebrow, studying her with disgust. “Lady, it’s only just begun.”

Chapter
Three
     
    M aggie paced the work area between the packaging table and her desk. She had to move; if she stood still, her brain froze up, displaying that startled image of her face with the words Bar Bimbo next to it. That picture was on front pages at newsstands and grocery store checkout lines all over the country. Her grandmother would see it. So would her sisters.
    She growled her frustration. “Those slimy bastards. They knew better, and they twisted the facts to suit their story.”
    “That’s what they do.” Cal stood with arms folded, watching her pace. He didn’t even try to look upset on her behalf.
    “Well, it’s despicable.” She wished the whole pack of them would show up just so she could have the pleasure of kicking their butts onto the street. What really ticked her off was that she’d given them the fodder they needed to write their misleading stories. “Damn it, I should have known better,” she muttered.
    To his credit, Cal didn’t agree. He didn’t have to. She could see it on his face, that resigned look of contempt that said he’d known she would blow it. That part really irritated her. She should have been the one who knew what to expect. She dealt with celebrities