by Kim Karr
She’s looking at my screen as the candid photos transfer from my inexpensive Canon to my computer so I can email them to my boss. “He really is good-looking. I’ll give him that,” she comments, pulling me from my inappropriate thoughts.
My belly flips as I turn back and continue to study the photos. “Yes, he is.”
“I might even go as far as to say he’s hot.”
I nod in agreement and shift uncomfortably in my chair.
“How tall do you think he is?”
With a shrug I answer, “Just over six feet.”
“How much do you think he weighs?” She calls the question over her shoulder as she heads down the hallway.
“One-ninety at the most, I’d say. He’s pretty lean.”
She pulls the straps of her shoes down, slips them off, and looks in the mirror. “Would you say he wears boxers or briefs?”
Making a list of what I need to accomplish, I’m not even sure how to answer her question. “I wouldn’t have a clue.”
“I’m going to say he goes commando. He just looks like the type.”
Pausing, I set my pen down. Now she has me wondering. “What’s with all the weird questions anyway?”
Eve gives me one of her signature fake smiles. “Curious, that’s all.”
My gaze returns to the pictures of him. Handsome. That’s how I’d describe him. Really handsome. Handsome as hell. Strong jaw. Sensual lips. Sharp profile. Long and lean, dressed in black slacks and a white shirt. Tie loose. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows and shoes that look brand new. Whether dressed up or down, there is no denying who he is. I swallow past the lump that forms in my throat.
Eve ducks into the bathroom, and I use the time alone to shuffle through the photos and really look at them. A few of him smiling. Some laughing with his head tipped back. One or two where I’d say he might be brooding. Others show him deep in concentration. But regardless of the emotion captured, all of them exude a confidence that can’t be denied.
“What do you think?”
Clicking the screen closed, I look up. “About what?”
“Him.” Eve has changed out of her skirt and into a pair of tight shorts that show off her long legs and curves beautifully. She’s definitely what most men would call a bombshell, and she knows it. Sauntering back into our room with her makeup bag in her hand, she stops for another glance in the mirror. “Well?”
“He’s seems nice.”
She starts to walk toward me but stops at the dresser and spritzes herself with her perfume. “Nice?”
I pull my legs up onto the chair. “Yes, nice.”
“Really, Charlotte, you’re too much. It’s just the two of us—be honest.”
“I am being honest.”
With a hand wave she says, “Whatever. I’m sure he’s many things, but nice isn’t a word I’d use to describe him.”
I give her a shrug and pull my sweatshirt tighter around me.
“I met this girl earlier who told me Jasper requested a smorgasbord of drugs to go along with the shitload of sex he was planning on having. She said it was an orgy in the making.”
Holding back my eye roll, I say, “And she told you about his potential illegal activity why?”
“I don’t know.”
I point my finger at her. “Exactly, because she’s making it up.”
“Whatever. Don’t believe me. You will soon enough.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Anyway, tell me again what happened in this town and why this ‘yes’ vote is so significant?”
Memories as clouded as the sky on a winter day assault me and guilt overwhelms me.
She stops in front of the small table I’m seated at and grabs a handful of nuts from the bag I purchased in the gift shop downstairs. “Charlotte, are you even listening to me?”
Rapidly blinking, I shift my gaze to hers and wish what I’m about to tell her wasn’t mostly true. “I already told you everything I know.”
She sighs. “I need to interview someone who knows more.”
No one knows I was born in this town. I need to do what I came here to do, and then get the hell out of here and back to my small apartment before anyone figures out who I am. Entirely sure our boss insisted we stay at the hotel for his own personal reasons, I sigh and pull my mass of frizzy waves to the side in order to avoid her stare. “I don’t understand what you need to know, Eve. You’re here to write about Lightning Motors and the car.”
She passes by me and I can smell her strong perfume.
“I think you were a little out of line earlier with your questions,” I blurt out.
She goes to the window of our hotel room and looks out at the Detroit River. “What makes you say that?”
“I don’t know, your tone maybe,” I say sarcastically. “I really felt the questions you asked were personal, and this isn’t a personal story.”
Spinning around, she glares at me.
“Eve. It’s not. It’s not about his height, his weight, his underwear preferences, or even if you like him. It’s not about him at all. The story is about the Storm and its introduction to the world.”
With a roll of her eyes, she pulls that perfectly shiny red hair back and ties an elastic around it. “I know what my assignment is, Charlotte, but like you, I’m interested in him.”
My features pull together. “I’m not interested in him.”
Her smirk isn’t to be missed. “Then what’s with all the pictures?”
“It’s my job to set the scene.”
“Yes, for the story, which you already told me is about the car, not the man.”
“Eve,” I try to reason, “it’s not the same.”
She raises a brow. “But it is. And besides, it’s my story and I can write it from whatever angle I think will draw the readers in.”
I flinch under the sting of her words and a strange feeling courses through me. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t like it.
For a moment I think she’s done with the conversation, but then she walks past me and stops at the mirror again. “Do you think he ever fucks the same woman twice?”
“I have no idea,” I say with exasperation.
With a click, I open the window again and look at my pictures. She’s right. I should delete these. They’re too personal. Just as I highlight them all and begin to drag them to the trash, I stop. A picture grabs my attention. It’s of Eve, and Jasper is in the background just leaving the stage. I know when this picture was captured, and my heart drops when I see the despair on Jasper’s face. Eve asks me a question about his father, but I ignore it and fire one of my own. “Why do I feel like you’re purposely trying to hurt him?”
She finds me in the mirror and her stare pegs me. “You know he fucks a lot of women, don’t you?”
I raise a curious brow. “What does that have to do with the story we were sent here to cover?”
“Nothing, everything.”
“You’re not making sense.”
Sitting on one of the beds, Eve is about to put her very high red patent-leather slingbacks back on.
They’re Louboutins. I know because she told me. Who would ever pay that much for a pair of shoes? As she starts to slip her feet in, my eyes dart to her red-painted toes and the gold ring she wears around one of them. I’ve always wondered why people wear rings on their toes. It seems like they would hurt, or at the very least be bothersome. Yet, I’ve never seen her without it.
“He’s the man behind the car. Don’t you think the world should know what he’s like?”
“No,” I say adamantly.
Hair up or down? Obviously she’s unable to decide because she yanks the elastic from her hair and then shakes her head. “Well, I do.”
“What’s this really about?”
She bites her lip.
“Is there something you’re not telling me?”
Eve and I haven’t known each other long. Two months ago she moved here from Toledo and I moved h
ere from Mackinac Island, when we both landed jobs at The Detroit Scene. The Detroit Scene is an online blog that covers everything from politics to music to sports to cars. The blog is gaining readership, and we’ve had to work long hours to keep it that way. And although I’ve spent a lot of time with her, I still don’t get what makes her tick. I’m not even sure you could call us friends.
She shrugs. “We both went to the University of Michigan.”
How had I missed that fact? “And?”
“I may or may not have had sex with him once.”
My jaw drops. “What? Why didn’t you tell me that when we got this assignment?”
“Because it’s embarrassing.”
Raindrops against the window call my attention toward them. “In what way?”
“If you must know, he fucked me in the bathroom stall at a dive bar, took my number, told me he’d call me, and then never did. He’s just such a jerk.”
Refocusing on her, I say, “Eve, come on, what would you expect from an encounter like that? True love?”
She waves her hand. “No, and I don’t care about that anymore anyway. We were both young and stupid. Hell, most college kids are.”
I don’t believe her. “Then what’s this about?”
“Revealing the truth.”
“About what?”
“I already told you. Him.”
I find myself sitting up straighter. “What are you trying to reveal?”
“I think that’s obvious.”
“Not to me.”
She shakes her head. “Just how much of a sleazeball he is.”
Something defensive kicks in. “Eve, there is nothing about him at all that indicates he’s a sleazeball.”
“So player, manwhore, user, whatever term you want to use.”
“You’re focusing on his sex life. We’re here to write about his career. He’s a man who’s not even thirty yet with a huge accomplishment under his belt. That’s what we’re supposed to be focusing on.”
“You focus on what you think is important and I’ll focus on what I think readers want to know.”
“And what would that be, besides the unconfirmed rumors about his sex life?”
“I’m not certain yet, but I know there’s something there. Maybe I’ll include his poor relationship with his mother, for one. I talked to her earlier today and it was obvious their relationship is strained at best.”
My hands start to tremble. “You what?”
“I talked to his mother.”
“Why would you do that?”
Hands on hips, she huffs. “I already told you—for the story.”
“And?”
Her smile is wicked, but she shrugs. “Nothing really. I’m not even sure why she agreed to see me, other than I think she was drunk when she said yes and even drunker when I arrived.”
I say nothing.
“It was a complete waste of my time and aggravated my allergies, too. There was some lingering cigar or cigarette smoke in that house. I had to keep rubbing my nose to keep the scent from permeating into my nostrils. You know what that smoke does to me.”
I don’t, but I nod anyway. “So what happened?” I ask, worried she might have uncovered something about me.
“Aside from the feeling I got that Mrs. Storm doesn’t seem to excited with her son’s aspirations, she didn’t say much worth noting. She did, however, tell me that she thought Jasper was trying to live out his father’s dream for him. Whatever that means. Then, when I asked her about her dead husband, she got a little hostile and shoved me toward the door so hard I tripped on the carpet. I think she’s hiding something. I’m not sure what, but I want to find out. Anyway, read my blog post about that crazy visit later.”
“Your post? Have you written it yet?”
“No, not yet. I have to go through my notes and digest it. And besides, I’ll have more to write.”
“What else? What else will you be posting?” I sound nervous, and I hope she doesn’t hear it in my voice.
“Well, since you asked. Rumor has it that he recently attempted to seduce all the female council members in order to guarantee their vote.”
This time I roll my eyes. “Come on, Eve, just like the orgy, that sounds like a concocted story. You know better than to believe everything you hear.”
Her hands are now on her hips. “You saw him tonight. Clearly he still likes to sleep around.”
“Actually, I didn’t see him except when he was onstage. I left shortly after his speech.” Curiosity gets hold of me and I ask, “But what do you mean?”
“First there was the bartender who kept shooting him looks, and then there was the girl with the blue streaks in her blond hair and obvious implants wearing a bikini. He was all over them both.”
“Come on, Eve. You’re being ridiculous. It’s within his right to flirt. He’s a man and he’s not married.”
Opening one of her many bags, she pulls out her compact. “Forget it, you’ll never see it for what it is. Anyway, did you see the taller, older man who was standing with him and his buddies before the mayor made his speech but then disappeared?”
I nod. “The one in the navy suit with salt-and-pepper hair?”
She snaps her fingers and points to me. “That’s him. Do you know who he is?”
“I think his name is Hank and he owns HH Automotive Parts Plant.”
“Should that mean something to me?”
“Probably not, but it’s the only remaining independent parts plant in town.”
“Interesting. See, you do know more. I wonder what he has to gain, or lose, from all of this.”
“I don’t think anything. I believe he’s a longtime friend of Jasper’s.”
“Friend, right. I tried to talk to him about Jasper’s success and choice of location. He grunted that Jasper could build anywhere, but otherwise seemed uninterested and wouldn’t give me the time of day.”
“He was Jasper’s mentor. I doubt there’s much more to it than he is respecting Jasper’s privacy.”
“Still, I’d like to talk to him again.”
“Honestly, Eve, leave Jasper alone. You’re looking for something that isn’t there.”
Eve glances in the small mirror and then powders her nose. “You’re awfully defensive about him. Is there something about the two of you that maybe I should know?”
My heart starts to pound. She’s just too nosey and I need to shut up.
Reaching for her computer, she slides it into a very expensive-looking orange snakeskin case, and then tidies up her folders and books before she puts everything on the bedside table between both our beds.
“Where are you going?”
Stopping at the mirror again, she pops the top two buttons open on her blouse, allowing her more-than-ample cleavage to show. “To the party in the penthouse.”
There’s no sparkle coming from the side of her nose, and for a moment I wonder why she removed her diamond stud before I refocus. “Eve Hepburn,” I warn. “We’re here on business.”
“Charlotte Lane,” she responds with mock innocence. “I know that, but if you want to succeed in journalism you’ll do whatever it takes.”
I chew on my bottom lip in thought. “What do you mean, ‘whatever it takes’?”
She sighs and her eyes appraise me. “Listen, Charlotte, I know you’re from a small town, but I also know you’re smarter than that. I don’t need to explain. You really should come. When alcohol flows, so does so much more.”
All I can do is look at her in astonishment.
“Do you want me to wait while you change?”
Holding back my irritation with her, knowing there is no way I can show up there in case I’m recognized, I shake my head. “No, I’m not going to a party that I wasn’t invited to in order to flirt with a bunch of men to get information that I don’t think is even relevant.”
Eve shoots me a disgusted look and heads down the hallway. “Well, I am. See you later.”
Then, just like that
, she’s gone.
And I’m left worrying what she’s going to uncover.
About me!
REVVED
Jasper
IT ISN’T A wet dream I’m having.
But that doesn’t mean I’m not hard just thinking about it.
Y E S.
Y E S.
Y E S.
The word is the only thing on my mind as I awake. Light streams through the window and I squint as I open my eyes. I can’t help but smirk when I see the word Y E S plastered on different pieces of paper all over the walls of the room. It wasn’t just a dream. It really happened. The City Council really did vote yes to allow the sale of the old Laneworth Automotive Plant out on 8 Mile Road.
I can’t fucking believe it.
And that yes means today we are celebrating—having a groundbreaking ceremony before we officially own the land. Like last night’s celebration before the vote, it was Alex’s idea. As mayor, he wants to celebrate, to raise spirits, to show this town change is coming, and I for once have to agree with him—it’s a great fanfuckingtastic idea.
Today is definitely jumping the gun.
I don’t care.
It really doesn’t mean anything.
Again, I don’t care.
Now Monday—that I care about.
On Monday, the property will go up for auction. But from now until then, we need to pray like mad that no one from the Lane or Worth families shows up to lay claim to their long-ago abandoned property before it hits the block. After twenty years, I don’t see that happening, though. All I see happening is the days passing in one big party and then on Monday, the four of us going to the auction to place our bid and the land auctioneer saying, “Sold.”
Music is blaring throughout the suite. “Turn the fucking music down!” I yell. When no one answers, I assume it must be still playing from last night.
It’s not until I roll over that I realize I’m alone.
Where’d they go?
Perhaps the bigger question is how the hell did I end up with two women in my bed last night?
Let’s see . . .
Blue with the smoking-hot body was flirting with me nonstop. Small, subtle things that were driving me wild—a stroke against my cock when no one was looking, a slide of her hand into that string bikini, a lick of her finger. She was making me insane.
