A Case of Defamation

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 god

damn

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.