FILTHY: A Steamy Romance Collection

by Brent, Amy

  I felt the muscles in my jaws tighten. “Is this going to bite me in the ass, Ed? Is my job in jeopardy?”

  His round shoulders went up and down. “Honestly, Lucy, I don’t know. Management would like to meet with both of us on Monday to discuss the situation.”

  “Fuck…” I slumped back in the chair and rubbed my eyes. “Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.”

  “There’s something else, Lucy,” Ed said. “I just mentioned to Larry that you two were old flames. That was at lunch over a week ago. However, when I talked to Larry today he seemed to know every detail of the relationship. Or at least acted like he did.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Ed glanced over his shoulder at the door to make sure it was closed. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “He asked me how a woman could fuck a man every night for two weeks and not know what was on his mind.”

  My mouth dropped open. It was such a ludicrous question that I had to smile. “What?”

  “You heard it right. Those were his exact words. My question to you is, how does Larry David in programming know that you’ve spent every night for two weeks fucking Dr. Cole Walker?”

  “How indeed?”

  We stared at each other for a moment, both knowing the answer, then Ed put his palms on his knees to push himself out of the chair. “We’ll get it all cleared up on Monday, Lucy. Don’t let it ruin your weekend.”

  “I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” I said, looking up with a forced smile that was anything but happy.

  Ed nodded. “I know. And I’m sorry. What are you going to do?”

  “I have a show to produce,” I said, glancing at my watch. “Then? Who the fuck knows?”

  Cole

  Fifteen million dollars.

  Fifteen fucking million dollars.

  That’s how much Kingston Television was going to pay me under the three-year syndication deal I had signed yesterday. They would also put up the money to produce five, one-hour shows per week and get the show syndicated into every market in the country by the end of the year. There were also six-figure bonuses for meeting ratings milestones every quarter and the promise of more good things to come if the show caught on like they believed it would.

  One of the best parts was that I could recruit and hire my own staff. In my mind, there was no one better to executive produce the show than the woman who was walking into my kitchen at that very moment. I pulled a bottle of Coors from the fridge and twisted off the top and set it on the kitchen island. I knew better than to offer her a glass. Lucy liked her beer ice cold straight out of the bottle. I gave her time to drop her computer bag in a chair and was about to give her the great news when she pounced on me with her teeth and claws extended.

  “I can’t fucking believe you did this to me,” she said, balling her hands into tight fists and shaking them in the air between us. “I thought you cared about me, Cole. How could you keep this from me?”

  I planted my palms on the island and gave her a confused look. “Excuse me?”

  “The syndication deal,” she said, throwing her hands in the air as if she were tossing pizza dough. “Why didn’t you fucking tell me you had signed a deal?”

  “Actually, I was about to,” I said, sounding less irritated than I really felt. My good mood darkened quickly. I was not accustomed to this kind of assault and would normally strike back in force. Even though it was Lucy, I didn’t appreciate her tone and without thinking, went on the defensive. “What’s your problem?”

  “My fucking problem is that I find out an hour before air time that you are bailing on my show!”

  “Bailing on your show? Seriously?” I shook my head at her. “Lucy, you’ve been the executive producer for two weeks. You can hardly call it your show. And I’m not bailing on anyone, most of all you.”

  “It is my fucking show and you are bailing,” she said, her face turning a decidedly unattractive shade of red. “You promised that you would give me a heads up if you were not going to renew your deal with WNN.”

  “Actually, I didn’t promise you any sort of thing,” I said. “You asked me to, but I never said I would give you a heads up about anything. I told you, that was all in the hands of my manager and agent. It wasn’t something I would discuss with you.”

  “You fucking asshole,” she said, spitting the words. She put her hands to her head in dramatic style and gawked at me. “You used me.”

  That one made my head spin. I shook my head and frowned at her. “What? How did I use you?”

  “I told you how bad Ed wanted you to renew the contract. How bad I wanted you to. I’m sure you told your agent that you were fucking the show’s new executive producer. Your agent used that knowledge to work the deal with Kingston. He told them they needed to sign you before I could convince you to stay at WNN.”

  “Give me a break, Lucy,” I said with an exasperated sigh. “I already knew how badly WNN wanted to renew my contract. Christ, they’ve offered to do everything short of having Stephanie Hart suck my cock on the air to make it happen.”

  “That would have certainly gotten you ratings and your rocks off,” she said angrily. “I’m sure Bryant would have fondled your balls while Stephanie blew you!” She folded her arms over her chest and glared at me. “Be honest with me, Calvin. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I took a deep breath and threw up my hands. “Fine, my agent told me not to, okay? He was afraid you’d say something to Ed and fuck up the deal.”

  “You didn’t think that you could trust me?” Her tone went soft and her eyes filled up with tears. “Oh my god, that’s it, isn’t it? You didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth. You were afraid I’d fuck up your deal.”

  “I was getting ready to tell you the now,” I said. “I was going to give you the news and carry out on the town to celebrate.”

  She covered her eyes with her hands and shook her head. For the love of freakin’ god, why did women have to be so goddamn hysterical?

  “You don’t trust me,” she said again as she picked up her computer bag and slung the strap over her shoulder. “And now you’ve probably cost me my job.”

  “What are you talking about?” I came around the bar and tried to put my hand on her shoulder, but she jerked away. “Lucy, what are you talking about?”

  “Management thinks that I knew all about your deal, but didn’t say anything because we were fucking. That’s what Larry David said to Ed. How could she be fucking the guy every night for two weeks and not know what’s in his head? Those were his exact words. Ed didn’t tell him we were together every night. Only two people knew that. Me and you. And I didn’t say a word. That means that you did.”

  “Lucy, please…”

  “You told your agent all about us and he told Larry. And now I’ll probably lose my job. Thank you very fucking much, Calvin. This is proof that you can’t go back in time without fucking up the future.”

  “What? Lucy, you’re overreacting,” I said. “Come on, let’s forget this silly argument and go celebrate. I’ll personally talk to Larry on Monday and straighten things out.”

  “No, I think I need to go,” she said, holding up her hands to keep me away. She gazed into my eyes. “I wouldn’t have said anything to anyone about your deal, Calvin. I would never do anything to hurt you. Obviously, that doesn’t work both ways.”

  “Lucy, Jesus, come on…”

  “Um, I need a little time to digest this,” she said. “I’m going to stay at my place tonight.”

  “Okay, what about this weekend?”

  She took a couple of steps back toward the door. “Um, I’m not sure.”

  “Lucy, you’re being ridiculous,” I said, rolling my eyes at her. “You realize that, right? You’re overreacting. Don’t leave. There’s more I want to tell you. At least let me help you straighten things out.”

  “That’s okay,” she said, turning to leave. “I don’t need your help. Not anymore.”

  And with that, she was gone, leavi
ng me pissed off and confused. It wouldn’t matter how successful or rich I became, I would never figure women out. Never. Not in a million years.

  Lucy

  Calvin—Cole—was probably right. Maybe I was overreacting, but goddammit when you’ve spent the last eighteen years of your life being lied to by one man, it did not make it any easier being lied to by another. If anything, my tolerance for bullshit was even less now. My fuse was much shorter.

  Even though I could feel myself falling back in love with Cole, I would not put up with being lied to or manipulated, no matter how good the intention behind the lie or how amazing the makeup sex might be. I was through being lied to and through being made the fool by a man I thought had feelings for me.

  Honestly, as I walked out of the building that night I didn’t know if I’d ever want to see Cole Walker again. Or if he’d want to see me. Maybe Thomas Wolf was right. You can’t go home again. And you can’t rekindle an old flame without getting your fingers burned.

  * * *

  I didn’t lose my job on Monday because the meeting with management never happened. Word came down from on high that morning that the meeting was canceled and there would be no need for further discussion. I asked Ed what happened and he just shrugged it off without speculation. Either management decided that I’d done nothing wrong or Cole had intervened on my behalf as he had said he would.

  Either way, life moved on.

  I sat at my desk staring at my phone that afternoon, contemplating calling him, but deciding against it. Call it silly human pride, but I had it set in my mind that if Cole wanted to makeup, he would have to call me and apologize for lying and beg me to take him back. If I called him, it would be as if I was the one crawling back begging for forgiveness. I had done a lifetime of crawling when I was married to Randy. Never was that going to happen again.

  But Cole did not call that Monday afternoon.

  Or the next.

  Or the next.

  According to the steady stream of press releases and Entertainment Tonight coverage about his new show, Dr. Cole Walker would be in Los Angeles for the next several months prepping for his new show that would premiere in the fall. I guess he had turned over all his patients to other doctors in his practice so he could focus on becoming the next Dr. Oz.

  Sometimes, I’d find myself at my desk after the evening newscast, sitting alone after everyone else had gone home. My office was always dark except for a small lamp on the credenza and the glow of my computer screen. I would type his name into Google and read the latest news of his career. There were always photos, lots of photos, of the handsome star rubbing elbows and god knows what else with Hollywood starlets and TV personalities. There’s a photo with Oprah. Another with Jimmy Kimmel. Another with Heidi Klum.

  “Good for you, Calvin,” I would say quietly as I wiped the tears from my eyes. I could tell by the look on his face that he was happy. How could he not be? His every dream was coming true.

  * * *

  It was finally the weekend and I was so glad to have nothing to do but lounge around in my pajamas and not worry about work. I loved my job, but it was starting to wear me out. The schedule was brutal and dealing with Bryant had not gotten any easier. To the contrary, he seemed to blame me for Cole not signing on with WNN and went out of his way to be a total fucking asshole. Stephanie had also switched into bitch diva mode. I spent most of my time coddling their egos and trying to settle arguments between them. When they were not on set, they didn’t speak to each other or to me.

  There was also increasing pressure from Ed, who looked like he might have a heart attack at any moment. The show’s ratings had dropped a full point since I’d taken over six weeks ago. It wasn’t my fault, he said, the ratings always dipped in the fall, but he had to bitch at someone because management was bitching to him. He made it clear that if the ratings weren’t good in ten months when my contract came up, my contract probably would not be renewed. All in all, it made for a very tough work environment that was making me old before my time.

  Then my cell phone rang that Saturday afternoon as I lay on the couch watching Sleepless in Seattle for the hundredth time on DVD. I picked up my phone and glanced at the screen, but didn’t recognize the number. I sat up and cleared my throat, then answered the phone.

  “Is this Lucinda Rhodes?” The man’s voice on the phone was deep, like one you’d hear on the radio.

  “Who is this?” I asked.

  “This is Harry Prescott, Miss Rhodes,” he said. “Forgive me calling you on the weekend, but I didn’t want to approach you at work.”

  I searched my brain for the name Harry Prescott, but came up blank. “I’m sorry, Mr. Prescott. Why are you calling?”

  “Miss Rhodes, I’m the Vice President of Syndication at Kingston Television. I’d like to speak to you about becoming the executive producer of The Dr. Cole Walker Show.”

  Cole

  “Are you sure she’s coming in?”

  “Her plane landed last night and she spent the night in the room we booked for her at the Four Seasons.” Harry didn’t bother to look up from his cellphone, which was clutched between his hands with his thumbs tapping away. “Relax, Cole. Why are you so nervous?”

  “I’m not nervous,” I said, lying badly as I sat on the edge of the plush leather chair across the desk from him. “I just haven’t spoken to her in six weeks and I’m not sure how she’s going to react when she sees me.”

  “She’ll probably run away in horror,” he said with a smile. He sent the text message he’d been typing out and set his phone on the table. “Besides, she is not going to see you.”

  “What?” I blinked at him. “Of course, she will. I’m going to be in the meeting.”

  He set the phone aside and shook his head at me. “No, actually you’re not.”

  “Wait, I don’t understand.”

  Even though the show had my name on it, Harry was technically my boss as VP of Syndication. I could argue a point with him all day but I knew from experience, Harry’s word was law.

  He said, “I think it’s better that you’re not here. I’m not refereeing an intervention between the two of you, nor am I interested in taking part in some romantic reunion. You asked me to consider her for the EP job and that’s what I’m doing. If she’s qualified, she’ll be seriously considered. If not, she won’t be. It’s as simple as that. Having you here would only confuse things. If you want to see her, do so later, at the Four Seasons.”

  “Fine,” I said quietly, knowing that he was right. “Tell me again what she said on the phone.”

  “I’ve told you ten times already,” he huffed.

  “Tell me again.”

  “Fine. I told her that I wanted to talk to her about the EP position on your show and asked if she would like to fly out for an interview.”

  “But you did not tell her that I would be here.”

  “No.”

  “Did she ask?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you said no.”

  “I said that you were not normally involved in the initial interviews, nor would you be part of this one.”

  “And she still agreed to come.”

  “Obviously.”

  “Did you tell her you were interviewing other candidates?” I asked. “So, she wouldn’t expect anything?”

  “I told her she was just one of a dozen candidates that were being interviewed for the job. She initially said she wasn’t interested, but when I asked what she had to lose just by interviewing, she said what the hell.” He swept his hands around the office. “And here we are. Waiting for her to arrive.”

  The intercom on the desk buzzed. “Mr. Prescott? Miss Rhodes is here.”

  “Okay, get out of here and let me do my job,” Harry said, getting to his feet and straightening his tie. He glanced at the platinum Rolex on his wrist. “You’re due onset. Go out my private exit. I’ll call you as soon as my meeting with her is over.”

  “Okay, fine,” I said, headin
g for the door. I opened the door and paused. “Harry, I really appreciate this.”

  “It’s not a problem,” he said forward to open the door for me. “Can I ask you one question, Cole?”

  “Sure.”

  “Why go to all this trouble just to make up with her? Why not just show up at her door with a dozen roses and a giant apology?”

  “I don’t think I have anything to apologize for,” I said seriously.

  “Maybe not,” he said, slapping me on the back as he ushered me out the door. “But that’s really not the point now, is it.”

  Lucy

  I was reluctant at first to even accept the offer to interview for the EP spot on Cole’s show. I mean, come on, I knew I wasn’t being asked to interview because of my experience or skills. I had produced live newscasts for years, but producing a recorded, one-hour talk show would be a whole different ballgame. Not to mention that I would be working with Cole again, a man I hadn’t heard from in almost two months.

  “I can assure you, Miss Rhodes, if you were not qualified to handle the job you and I would not be talking,” Harry Prescott said in a tone that told me he wasn’t bullshitting. He did not impress me as a bullshitter, or the kind of guy who would acquiesce to a request just to keep his talent happy, unlike me who had hired Bryant’s niece as an assistant just to get him off my back.

  He continued on, “Cole Walker is the talent, but Kingston Television owns the show. We would never hire someone based solely on a personal recommendation or a past relationship. So, the question is, do you want to fly to Los Angeles on Monday to chat with me in person or not?”

  It took me less than two seconds to say yes, not just because I was interested in the job, but because I might see Cole again, even though Prescott made it clear that Cole would not be in the interview. I had cried myself to sleep many nights over the way things ended. At the very least, maybe this trip would give us the chance to just shake hands and put our relationship behind us once and for all.