by Noelle Adams
Hailey touched her finger to her own ear, and Jane realized she still had her earbuds in. She took them out and heard Hailey say, “Mira’s here to help you get ready for the benefit.”
Jane gave a mental groan. The last thing she wanted was to spend another night with a bright smile pasted on her face pretending everything was right in her world. But Jane was the celebrity spokesperson for St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital, and there was no way she could cancel at the last minute without feeling like a coldhearted bitch. “Tell her I’ll be right out.”
“What’s going on with your computer?” Hailey asked, peering over Jane’s shoulder.
Jane’s stomach dropped as she realized which document was front and center on her screen. Fortunately—at least in this case—her ailing computer was having what looked to be the electronic equivalent of a seizure. “I don’t know,” she said, quickly slamming the laptop closed. “It’s been acting up all week. Maybe I caught a virus or something.”
Hailey nodded sagely. “I’ll back up the hard drive and get you a new one first thing in the morning.”
Jane wrinkled her nose. “I don’t need a new one. Just have them fix it.” Though she could easily afford the couple of thousand or so she’d spend on a new computer, she wasn’t far enough from a childhood spent with her single mother that she could blithely replace a computer that was barely two years old.
Hailey nodded. “I’ll take care of it. You coming?”
“Tell Mira I’ll be five minutes. I just need to wrap up a couple of things.”
It took three hard restarts and fifteen minutes, but finally Jane’s computer cooperated long enough for her to go into her document folder and select on the “scenarios” file. Her heart squeezed in her chest as she dragged the folder to the trash. She clicked on the trash can icon, hesitating as the cursor hovered over the “empty” button.
She had to do it. Not just because of the risk she carried keeping them on her computer, where they could easily be discovered. But because Deck was gone. She’d had one amazing evening with him, after which he’d made it crystal clear what he wanted from her/
Exactly nothing.
These files were nothing more than an embarrassing reminder of her unrequited infatuation.
Are you sure you want to permanently delete these files?
Jane clicked OK. And all traces of Deck were permanently removed from her life.
Five
“Oh, crap, I’m so sorry!”
“It’s okay,” Deck said, blinking back tears as he pinched the bridge of his nose to stop the flow of blood. “It was my fault,” he said as a production assistant appeared out of nowhere to hand him a cloth to stem the flow of blood dripping from his nose and an ice pack to keep the swelling down. “I shouldn’t have stepped into the blow.”
Never mind that that was the way they’d gone over it in choreography, oh, a dozen or so times before rehearsing the actual fight. And never mind that Marla Workman knew—or should know by now—that she was supposed to pull her punch before landing an actual blow.
“I’m sorry,” Marla repeated, hopping around him like a hyper-active puppy as she followed him to the small sitting area set up in the corner of the sound stage. “It’s just that when we practice the adrenaline gets going and I just can’t seem to stop.”
“Yeah, I know,” Deck said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. While the producers had instructed him to be tough with the cast during training—they were supposed to be convincing playing battle-hardened soldiers—he knew from previous experience working on the on-set training and consulting side of Malcolm’s business that he needed to tread carefully with the talent.
Actors and actresses were a notoriously sensitive lot, and while they would tolerate—even revel in—him yelling and criticizing in the heat of their training sessions, if they for one second thought he was slighting them or sporting a bad attitude, it would be his ass that hung out to dry.
So in spite of the fact that five foot two one hundred and nothing pound Marla Workman had given him three bloody noses and a black eye in the past four days during the course of their training, Deck forced a smile. “It’s good that you get so into it. It will help it look even more real on screen.”
Marla’s blue eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning and she’d just found a brand new bike under the tree. “Really? You really think I’ll be convincing as part of the first female commando squad?”
Not unless the US Army plans to defend itself with pint size blonds who eat nothing but lettuce and sugarless gum.
Then again, she did manage to give you that shiner you’re sporting. “When I’m done with you, they’re going to want to remake Rambo with a female lead.”
Grinning, Marla retreated to her trailer while Deck wandered over to the craft services table to refuel with a bottle of water and a protein bar. Anton Markel, who was playing the male lead, was holding court with the actresses playing the two female supporting roles beside Marla. Deck silently shook his head as he took in Markel’s training uniform of choice. He was decked out in full on army issue BDU’s, from his cammo shirt and pants to lace up boots.
Markel claimed the clothes made him feel more authentic during training, making his eventual performance that much more realistic. Deck knew better than to tell him it didn’t matter what he wore. Markel still punched like a girl.
The women were dressed in basic gym/yoga gear and up until now were taking to the training a hell of a lot more readily than Markel.
Deck gave a polite nod as one of the actresses looked up as he walked up to the table to grab his food. He didn’t pay much attention to what they were saying, but he heard one of the women laugh, followed by a comment from Markel delivered in a snarky tone.
Another high-pitched female laugh, then, “You worked for her all those years, man. Did you have any idea she was such a nympho?”
Deck turned and saw them all looking at him expectantly. He realized they were talking to him. “Who?”
“Jane Bowden,” said the fat free brunette with improbably big tits.
At the sound of her name, every nerve ending went on high alert. “What about her?”
“Have you been living under rock for the past 24 hours or something?” Markel said. “You haven’t seen Jane’s dirty letters about her husband.”
Deck went instantly hot, then cold as all the blood seemed to drain from his head to pool in his stomach. Though he damn well knew better he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “What letters?”
The brunette, Aimee, handed over the iPad they’d all crowded around. Deck couldn’t have stopped himself from looking at the screen if someone had put a gun to his head. He recognized the banner of one of the more popular—and cutting—celebrity gossip sites and read the headline below.
Jane Bowden’s Sexy Secret Fantasies Revealed!
His stomach rolled over on itself as he continued reading. Apparently Jane had sent her computer in to be repaired, and a very nosy technician had found the files—a collection of Jane’s most intimate, personal, sexual fantasies—and released them to the press for an undisclosed fee.
Oh, shit. He could only imagine what she was going through right now. First the announcement of Ryan’s baby, and now this. She would be devastated to have this leak out, especially since, according to this article, they were written about Ryan during their marriage, mere months, in fact, before he left her for Katya.
Yet another aspect of her failed marriage tossed out there for public consumption, something so deeply private, no doubt meant for her eyes only. All of his deeply protective instincts roared to the surface. He wanted to go to her, shelter her, keep the world at bay until this latest storm blew over.
He’d actually taken a step for the door when reality hit him like a cold slap in the face. Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly what she wants in a time of crisis. To have another potential crisis show up on hr doorstep. She’d made it clear three months ago that after what happened,
she viewed him as nothing more than yet another potential PR disaster. The best way to help was to stick with his plan of staying the hell out of her life.
“Keep reading,” Markel said. “They posted some excerpts.”
Don’t do it. Don’t sink down to everyone else’s level. Don’t become part of the muck that’s dragging her down.
Not to mention the idea of reading her fantasies about another man made his stomach churn. Forget that they were about her husband, at a time when they were very much together, at a time when Deck would have been the home wrecker.
It didn’t change the fact that the idea of Jane thinking about, much less having sex with someone else made his stomach turn.
But maybe, he thought as his finger clicked on a link as though of its own volition, if he read her writing about how much she wanted another man, Deck could finally get rid of the ridiculous idea that once the dust settled and she had time to miss him, she’d come to her senses and realize they were supposed to be together.
Bracing himself as though for a blow, Deck scanned the first page. Though several of the words were blacked out, it was easy enough to infer their meaning. Jane had a very vivid and direct tone, no flowery language or euphemisms for her. As he read, he found himself growing uncomfortably warm, felt the blood pool in his groin.
“Pretty hot, right?” Aimee said breathlessly. “Kind of makes you wonder why Ryan Atkins ever left her if he had this going on at home.”
“It’s sad to think about really,” the other actress chimed in, her sympathetic tone laced with satisfaction at the suffering of someone more successful and beautiful as herself, “how into him she was and then he just dumped her.”
Deck tuned them out as he continued to read, feeling like his skin was shrinking tighter with every word. God, he’d sensed the depths of Jane’s sexuality even before he’d tasted it for himself, but he’d never imagined she had all of this lurking behind those wide green eyes and that tumble of blond hair.
And none of it meant for him.
Deck was about to stop torturing himself and hand the iPad back over when is attention snagged on another passage.
He strips me naked and turns me against the wall, his hard warrior’s hands running down my sides. He holds my hips hard so I can’t move. I can feel his cock against my ass. Rock hard and so big I wonder if it will hurt when he pushes inside me.
His whole body tensed as a prickle of awareness shot through him. There was an odd tickle in the back of his brain, like a finger tapping from the inside, trying to get his attention.
The memory hit him in a rush of white hot light. On the set of that Robert the Bruce movie with Ryan and Jane. The weapons expert showing him how to wield the broadsword. Jane’s voice off to the side.
“You want warrior’s hands you should look at Deck.”
He told himself it was wishful thinking, but as he went back and scanned through the other passages where Jane described being taken by her powerful, anonymous lover, there was no mistaking the other signs, the other tells.
Blood roared in his head and poured hotly through his veins as the truth hit him with the force of a mack truck.
Jane hadn’t written these fantasies about being taken hard and fast, deep and slow about her ex-husband at all.
They were about Deck.
***
Jane walked off the stage of Late Night with Jimmy Kimmel feeling like she had an elephant on her chest. Stagehands gave her curious looks as she frantically searched for Hal, who was supposed to be waiting just off stage.
With her legs threatening to buckle under her, she tottered on her high heels down the hall to the green room, where she found Hal and Hailey chatting up Taylor Swift. “Hey guys,” Jane said as she pasted a smile on her face, “I thought you’d be waiting outside.”
“Oh, sorry, Doll, we just got caught up talking to Taylor,” Hal said. “Doesn’t she look fabulous?”
In a gold mini dress that highlighted both the enviable length of her legs and the buttery hue of her hair, Taylor did indeed look fabulous. Though it was hard for Jane to focus when her vision was tunneling and she felt like she was on the verge of passing out.
“It’s great to see you Jane,” Taylor said, her voice sounding like it was coming from very far away.
Deciding the pale object coming towards her was Taylor’s hand, Jane reached out and clasped it. “You too.”
Taylor didn’t release her hand right away. “You did great out there. I know that couldn’t have been easy.”
Jane’s stomach clenched at the unmistakable sympathy in the singer’s voice. That was how it had been for the past three days since the leak. Everyone oozed sympathy when they spoke to her, even as they cast speculative glances her way, looking at her in a whole new light now that her dirty mind was on display for the whole world to read.
“Thanks, I appreciate that.”
Hal and Hailey immediately heaped on their own praise, but Jane wasn’t buying it. This whole thing had disaster written on it from the second Hal suggested it.
“Face it head on. Show that you can have a sense of humor about it and the world will laugh with you instead of at you.”
It went against every instinct screaming in Jane’s head. How could she go on television and laugh it all off when in reality she felt stripped bare and flayed open?
But Hal had been insistent. Not only would she gain huge points by showing that she saw the humor in the situation, Ryan was all over the place commenting on the situation. One quote, “If only she could have inspired the same passion in me, maybe we never would have broken up,” had headlined all of the gossip sites and shows.
“We need a counterattack, and fast,” Hal said, and Jimmy’s show was the best vehicle. Jimmy was an old friend; he’d go easy on her and show her in the best light possible.
Friend or not, the second Jane set foot on stage she felt like she was having a heart attack. She frantically tried to remember the talking points they’d come up with, the jokes she was supposed to deliver with an offhand flare. Her mind was a complete blank. Hal and Hailey told her she’d been great, but did she detect a note of insincerity there?
She had no idea, because right now it was impossible to focus on anything but staying conscious as the weight in her chest got heavier, her breath going slower.
“You feel a little cold,” Taylor said, at the exact moment a chilly sweat broke out over her skin.
“We need to go,” Jane said. “Right now.”
“Holy crap is she going to pass out?” Hal said frantically. “Take her out the back. Don’t let anyone see her like this…”
Too late. The next morning the story of Jane’s near collapse after her appearance on Kimmel was front and center.
Jane knew better than to read what any of them had to say about her, but she couldn’t seem to pull herself away from the train wreck that was her own life. Jane Bowden Turns to Pills to Cope. Jane Bowden on the Edge of Collapse as her Private Passions Go Public.
And her favorite, courtesy of Weekly News of The World: Sex Fiend Jane Collapses After Too Long Without a Fix, complete with accompanying “expert” testimony from a Dr. Harper that like all addicts, sex addicts could also suffer from withdrawal symptoms, which in extreme cases could include physical collapse.
Jane finally slapped her laptop closed. “What’s so wrong with the truth? That I freaked the hell out?” And she was on the verge of doing it again, if the churning of her stomach and the pounding of her heart were anything to go by.
“That’s not quite enough to sell the rags, doll,” Hal said matter of factly. “You know how it works. They need to make it sound like you’re on the verge of a total breakdown.”
That wasn’t exactly far from the truth.
“Are you packed for New York?” Hal said.
She barely heard him through the sound of her blood pumping in her head.
“Yes,” she heard Hailey answer. “We’re just waiting for Mira to drop off her out
fits for the Today Show and Letterman.”
The Today Show. Letterman. Live With Kelly. Interviews with People and Vanity Fair. Hal had been busy in the last week, booking a full docket for Jane to do damage control and show the world she was fine just fine after this latest humiliation.
Her stomach twisted and a cold sweat broke out over her skin at the thought of repeating last night’s experience. At opening up to millions about something so private. At trying to laugh it off like it was some big joke when in truth it was so deeply personal.
Hailey and Hal’s voices faded to the background as one thought took over, echoing through her head in an endless, undeniable litany.
I need to get out. I need to go away. I need to be alone. I need to get out. I need to get away. I need to be alone.
She was on her feet before she realized it, phone in hand, practically running down the hall and up the stairs to her bedroom, ignoring Hal’s and Hailey’s startled protests. She got to her room and locked the doors behind her, blocking out the sound of Hal pounding on the door.
Her call was answered on the first ring. “Jane, honey, how are you holding up?”
Just the sound of Julie Dennison’s voice was enough to make Jane’s heart slow a degree. Back when Julie and her now husband, Chris had hosted her wedding at the exclusive Holley Cay Resort, Jane had been a bridezilla from hell, overwhelmed and completely stressed out about marrying Ryan. In retrospect, that should have been a warning sign.
Fortunately, Julie had accepted Jane’s apology after the fact, and they’d always stayed in touch. After the wedding, Jane and Ryan had been back several times, and could always count on Julie and the Holley Cay staff to provide the utmost discretion and privacy. Two years ago, when Jane had purchased an island retreat near the resort Chris had helped her negotiate the deal so her purchase was never made public.
The retreat, which Jane had jokingly dubbed “the Sea Shack,” was the last completely private place in Jane’s all too public life.
“Not so great, if you want to know the truth,” Jane said shakily.
“Tell me what you need,” Julie said.
