Her shoulders sagged, and she was carrying her heels—fold-up ballet flats on her feet instead. She’d taken her hair down at some point, the waves swishing listlessly across her shoulders. She never did that until she went to bed. And her eyes were shot through with red.
Any irritation at her unexplained absence was forgotten under the weight of that expression. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”
She didn’t look injured, but he knew very well that didn’t mean anything—some hurts were invisible.
She shook her head. “I’m okay. I…went out to dinner with Isak.”
Every muscle in Dean’s body tensed, ready for a fight or an attack or a get out of my condo, we’re done, but none came. Still, he couldn’t relax. This was what Chaz had warned him about—she had a plan, and Dean was nothing but a step in her grand scheme.
Well, Dean had a plan, too, and with the way she looked right now, he still had a chance of succeeding. Something had gone down, but she wasn’t going to volunteer any information, which meant he needed to coax it out of her.
Or sex it out. He wasn’t picky.
“Okay. So what happened at dinner with Alfredsson?”
“Okay?” She looked at him with one brow raised like he’d said something crazy.
Maybe he had. He’d instinctively defaulted to actor mode, but he needed more than that tonight. “I’m not going to pretend I’m excited you were out with him—because I’m really fucking not—but I am trying like hell to stick within the guidelines you set for all of this. That means I don’t have the right to pull out my jealous boyfriend act, no matter how badly I want to.”
“I…” She bit her lip, and he had to wonder if this was the first time she’d really thought about him in terms of actually being her boyfriend. It only took a few seconds for her to recover, but the pause had been there. Maybe just the realization would be enough for her to see how great they were together, to— “It’s nothing, really. He just gave me a lot to think about, so I ended up driving around for a while, trying to sort through everything in my head.”
Evasion was a less positive response than he’d hoped for. “And did you?”
“No.”
“But you don’t want to talk about it?”
“Not really.” She shook off her negativity like it was a shawl and forced a smile. Her eyes were so green—like they’d been the last time they’d had dinner with Alfredsson. The night they’d fought and she’d tried to hold back tears. “Unfortunately, this is something I need to figure out on my own.”
Which, as far as Dean was concerned, translated to it’s not going to matter to you in a few weeks, so I won’t bother you with the details. Shit. Time to put his own plan into play before Alfredsson got her completely wrapped around his little finger.
He closed the distance between them, pulling her into his arms until she was pressed tightly against him. She didn’t fight or tense up—a good sign. Time to play to his strengths. Tomorrow he could figure out how to develop on them. “Seeing as you aren’t inclined to talk it out, how about I help you forget about it so you can relax into a good night’s sleep?”
“What are you thinking? Massage?”
“We can definitely add a massage in there. I had a little dessert in mind”— he swept his hand toward the bar where all the items he’d brought home were laid out —“with you as the plate. Then, after we are done, I’ll have to do the dishes, obviously, get you nice and clean. Then I’ll lay you down in bed and give you a massage until you fall asleep. How does that sound?”
“Like it’s going to take a long time. I’m exhausted, and I’ve had an unkillable headache all day. Pretty much the only thing on my to-do list at the moment is sleep. I’m sorry, because it looks like you had this whole thing planned out, and I really appreciate it, but I wouldn’t be any fun tonight.”
What?
Dean had no clue what to do with that. He allowed his red-carpet smile to settle on his lips. “Oh. Okay. I’ll just clean this up, and we can wait for another time.”
Raising her head, she brushed a soft kiss over his lips and disentangled herself from his arms. “Thanks for understanding. Kiss me good night when you come to bed.”
“Of course.” But he didn’t move toward the counter, not even after she’d closed the bedroom door behind her.
Jade turned him down for sex. She had never turned him down for sex before.
If Alfredsson hadn’t been in the picture—hadn’t been her end game—it wouldn’t have bothered him. Hell, if she hadn’t had dinner with the guy, it would have bothered him less. But she’d just gone out with the competition—and hadn’t considered the date important enough to mention until after the fact—and now she was saying no when previously she’d been the queen of the enthusiastic yes.
Dean scrubbed his face. Chaz had been right. Sex wasn’t going to be enough to convince her to stay. He had to up his game—become the guy she said she wanted. As much as he hated the idea, he needed to become the American Isak Alfredsson.
And he had no idea how to do that.
Chapter Eleven
Jade felt like shit. When she’d come home from dinner with Isak on the verge of passing out, she’d thought it was just emotional exhaustion, but overnight her killer headache had spawned a sore throat, a faucet for a nose, and the foggiest brain she’d ever had in her life. Flu? Cold? She didn’t care what it was; she just wanted it to go away.
Whatever noise came out of her mouth when she rolled over, Dean must have thought it was a sexy moan or something because his hand was on her hip. “Good morning, kitten.”
“Nothing good about mornings. Definitely nothing good about this one.” Her head still pounded, too. She wanted to burrow under the blankets and never come out, but the sun was shining in through the window, and if she didn’t close the curtains, it would not only make the headache worse, but it would heat the room to an unbearable temperature.
“Holy shit. You’re burning up.”
“Yep. I told you ages ago, I’m like super hot. Hottest thing this side of the Rockies.” She shivered beneath the comforter.
“Hottest thing on the planet. But your actual body temp is why I’m getting you some ibuprofen.” He climbed out of bed and immediately closed the curtains, letting blissful darkness settle on the room.
Jade forced her eyes to flutter open. Today was going to suck. She had a Saturday afternoon shoot for Celebrity Style magazine. “Bring coffee with the drugs. I have to get ready to go.”
No matter how much she enjoyed the aroma, she fucking hated drinking coffee—it turned her stomach into a vat of boiling acid—but it was the only way she’d be able to power through the shoot.
Dean returned with water and a cold washcloth. As soon as she swallowed the pills, he pushed her back down on the bed and draped the cloth over her forehead. “No way. I’m calling Lilah to cancel.” When Jade opened her mouth to argue, he laid a finger across her lips. Fingers weren’t supposed to be that damn heavy… “Kitten, you’re sick. Whoever is on call for this session is not going to want to come in contact with whatever plague you’re carrying. Canceling one shoot due to health reasons—and protecting the health of your clients—isn’t going to destroy your business.”
“You don’t know that.”
“And you don’t know that going in and getting a bunch of A-listers sick won’t have the same or worse effect. So you’re going to lie here, stay hydrated, and rest. If the meds don’t get your temperature down, I’ll get on the horn with a doctor.”
She tried to sit up and argue, but the instant she moved, her head started to swim. “Fine. Just make sure Lilah tells the magazine that I’m willing to re…re…do it a different day. I’m sure I’ll be okay by Monday, and I can squeeze it in.”
“Reschedule. I’ll let her know, but I wouldn’t count on Monday.” He grabbed her phone from where it was charging on the table and stepped out of the room to place the call.
She wasn’t counting on anything�
�her brain was so fuzzy it hurt too much to think at all. Monday wasn’t a damn number anyway.
…
Lilah picked up on the first ring. “Jade?”
“Nope, the other guy.”
She laughed. “Hi, Dean. Jade take off and forget her phone? I can come over and pick it up on my way to the studio.”
“Actually, you might not have to drive into Studio City at all today. Jade’s sick. We’re talking fever, mucus, raspy voice, the works. She needs you to cancel the shoot. Reschedule with them, if possible, but she’s unavailable the next couple of days for sure, maybe longer.”
“Oy, they aren’t going to like that.”
“I know, but there’s really nothing she can do. She could barely sit up when I left the room.”
“I’m just wondering if she has names I could pass on as potential alternative photographers for the piece. Magazine deadlines aren’t super friendly with delays.”
“Right. Give me a minute, and I’ll call you back.” He opened the door to the bedroom, speaking quietly in case Jade had fallen back to sleep already. “Hey, kitten, Lilah wants to know if you have names of other photographers who might be able to pick up the shoot today.”
“Let me…” A coughing fit wracked her body, the worst of it lasting a full minute. Then she sagged against the pillows, clearly spent. “No, he’s doing a wedding”—pause—“no, she’s in Barcelona”—cough—“no, I took the damn job when she passed it up”—coughing fit—“damn it, no. Everyone I’d actually recommend isn’t available today. After them…it’d be a crapshoot.”
Dean pounded his fist lightly on the doorjamb. He hated her being stuck in a tight spot like this. He stopped with his head an inch from joining his fist. “Hey, kitten, what do you think about taking on an apprentice?”
“What? If this is some new means of asking for a three-way, I’m out… Sick, remember?”
Dean’s lips twitched into a smile. At least she still had her sense of humor. “Not what I meant at all. I know a guy. He’s a good photographer, but he’s just starting out—he’s the one who did all the headshots in my portfolio. I know he could do the shoot, not as well as you, obviously, but it would be an option you could offer the magazine.”
Her head lolled to the side. “Show me.”
God, she needed sleep and that damn fever gone. “I’ll grab your laptop.”
A minute later, he’d pulled up not only his own shots but also linked her directly to Chaz’s Model Mayhem portfolio. Jade studied the pictures intently, the process exhausting her to the point she lay down and propped the laptop on its side to examine most of the images. After several minutes, she shoved the computer toward him. “The apprenticeship itself is unpaid. He does shoots like this one—and satisfies the client—he gets the photographer fee for that minus studio charges. He brings in new clients—whatever kind he likes—same thing. Make the deal.”
She flopped onto her back, arm flung over her head.
“On it.” Dean leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead. Shit. Her skin was still really hot. He wished she had a damn thermometer in the condo, but his brief search through the bathroom had come up empty.
Stepping out of the room, he pulled up a number on his own phone. “Chaz, I just got you the opportunity of a lifetime. Can you be in Studio City with your camera this afternoon?”
“Why…?”
“Because we made a promise a long time ago to look out for each other.”
“Uh-huh, and what’s in it for you?”
Chaz was always looking for the angles, thinking everyone in the world had it out for him. How many kids like the two of them grew up that way? “It’s not really for me, but the chance came up because of me. Jade is sick, and she has a magazine shoot this afternoon. If they’re willing to work with her apprentice, you’ve got a job—and working with her would look hella good on your resume.”
There shouldn’t have been any debate, but Chaz took a long time responding. “I’m in.”
“Okay, I’m giving your name and number to Jade’s assistant, Lilah. If the magazine bites, be early to get the lay of the land, do what they want, and dress like a professional, not some frat boy after a binge night.”
“Yes, Dad.”
“You’re a dickhead.”
“And you’re fucking some other guy’s chick. We’ve all got issues. Talk later.” Chaz hung up before Dean could respond. Probably for the best.
Blowing out a breath, he called Lilah, filled her in on everything, and promised to take care of Jade. When he hung up, he went back into the bedroom. Jade was still awake and still too hot for his peace of mind. “How do you feel about a bath, kitten?”
“Like it’ll be wet.”
“Last I checked you liked it wet. I’ll be back in a minute.” In the bathroom, he started filling her huge tub. Not warm, but not too cool, either. Just enough to make Jade shiver the fever away—and get her all wet.
Dean cracked a smile. He’d spent a lot of time around sick kids growing up. Everyone responded to illness differently. Some became so whiny they made even the most patient people want to throttle them. Others thought the rest of the world should stop and revolve around them. But he’d met a few people like Jade—the ones who illness hit so hard and fast it left them spinning and a little spacey from it. They were the ones who turned everything into a joke because they knew half the shit that came out of their mouths made no sense.
With the tub full and the water just right, Dean went in to collect Jade. She resisted when he pulled back the comforter, but when he scooped her into his arms, she settled against him.
“I love that you pick me up without thinking twice about it.” The words were sleepy—there was a decent chance she didn’t actually know what she was saying.
“Any time you need a pick-me-up you know who to call, then.”
Propping her on her feet, he tugged the thin nightie over her head and slid off her panties. When he picked her up again, she blinked at him slowly. “What about you? Aren’t we both getting naked?”
“Maybe next time.” Today wasn’t a day to think about sex, and while the boxer briefs wouldn’t keep him from having a hard-on, they’d remind him not to do anything with it.
He stepped into the tub and eased them both into the water. Within seconds of it hitting her skin, Jade started to shiver. “This is really cold.”
“No, kitten, you’re just too hot. Isn’t that what you told me a few minutes ago?”
She trembled against his chest as he scooped up water and poured it over her skin. “Why are you doing this to me? So mean…”
Like the things she said, anything he told her today, she probably wouldn’t remember, at least not clearly enough to be sure she didn’t dream it. Still he didn’t want to say too much. There would be no because I want you to see I can be all the things he can be. And no because I want to make sure you know if the two-point-five kids and the picket fence are what you want, I can be that guy. Not even a because I can’t lose you without trying everything I can think of to keep you.
Instead, he kissed the top of her head and said, “I’m doing this because I want to take care of you. I want you to know that I’m here, looking out for stuff, so you can rest and get better.”
Her shivers were starting to quiet a little. “Bummer. I thought you were discovering your inner sadist.”
A snort escaped him, but the reality he had to face was Isak Alfredsson didn’t have an inner sadist, much less an outer one. He was safe. Secure. His family had called the same place home for God knew how long. That’s what he really offered that Dean didn’t, the stability Jade seemed to be searching for.
If Dean stood any chance at keeping her in his life, he needed to put kink—and maybe even sex entirely—on the back burner. He needed to prove to her that he could be what she said she wanted, and he needed to do it now, before it was too late.
…
It was Monday before Jade woke up without the haze of fever and pr
essure in her head. There was a note on Dean’s pillow saying her appointments for the day were being rescheduled or booked with someone named Chaz—Who the fuck is Chaz?—and that he’d be back with breakfast in fifteen minutes or less.
She sagged against the pillows, too tired to move—even if she hadn’t been worried shifting too much would bring on a colossal coughing fit. The weekend was a complete blur.
Friday night she’d gone out to dinner with Isak, and he’d talked about waiting for her to show Dean the curb. But he’d also insulted Dean’s age and, in a roundabout way, their relationship.
Correction: fake relationship.
The way Isak had made her feel, though, that urge to jump in and defend what she and Dean had together…
She sighed. Correction: maybe the fake part wasn’t so fake after all.
Then, she’d come home, and Dean had been ready to sex her up. The minimal irritation and lack of condemnation after she’d gone out with Isak behind his back had only confused her more. In the beginning, she’d made sure Dean knew that this was only temporary and that she was the kind of woman who required her space. Day by day, moment by moment, though, he’d worked his way into her life and, hindsight allowing her to look at Friday night objectively, she’d been almost offended by his lack of obvious jealousy.
After going to bed that night, the rest of the weekend was a mash-up of dreams and reality. Clearly, she’d had a virus of some sort, and she vaguely recalled Dean making arrangements to take care of Saturday’s shoot. Is that where Chaz comes in? And there’d been a bath—a cold one. At some point, her doctor had made a house call, and she was pretty sure she’d made an inappropriate comment toward him—probably more than one.
Somewhere in there, or a lot of somewheres, Dean had spoon-fed her soup and sat with her through more hours of Netflix than she wanted to think about. There’d been cold compresses and heating pads and a whole lot of personal attention that made her feel swoony to think about.
Playing the Perfect Boyfriend (Gone Hollywood) Page 11
