Causing A Commotion

by Lynn, Janice

  “I’ll have you know my intentions were honorable. I’m searching for number seven.”

  “Honorable my behind.” Jessie snorted. “Or her behind, as the case would have been.”

  “If she got lucky.” J.P. waggled his bushy white brows, and spun her in a move that outdid the music’s rhythm.

  “Men.” Jessie teased, matching his upbeat steps despite the fact they danced to a tune of their own rather than the dawdling music. Dancing always made her feel better and although occasionally catching a glimmer that his arthritis might be bothering him, J.P. seemed to be enjoying himself, too.

  “So, what’s put a bee in your bonnet?” J.P. asked, watching her closely. “I thought you’d invited Steve to come with you tonight. Where’s he at? I was looking forward to catching up. I haven’t seen him since we taped the last episode of Jane Millionaire.”

  The requisite rebound. Steve had been one of the last two bachelors on the reality television show. Her sister hadn’t chosen him, hadn’t chosen either of the two remaining bachelors since she’d fallen in love with the producer, but Jessie hit it off quite well with the hunky ex-military man. Physically.

  “I’m not seeing Steve anymore.” She’d known this question would be asked, had been prepared for it earlier. But that was when she’d still had a prospective acting job to fall back on. One where she had more than a shake-her-boobs-and-scream role. One where she’d have an income to support herself.

  “Oh?” J.P. pulled her close, where he could see her face.

  She met his gaze and didn’t waver. “We weren’t seeing things eye-to-eye.”

  “In other words, he couldn’t compete with your love for Jimmy Choo?”

  Jessie shrugged, glancing down to admire her feet. She did adore a great pair of shoes. More than most of the men she’d dated. “Some might say that.”

  She refused to let the sigh leave her lips, despite the heavy urge. As always, she kept her expression bright, cheerful, determined to keep the world at bay, thinking Jessie Davidson’s life wasn’t in the process of falling apart because she’d soon be truly alone for the first time. She wasn’t falling apart. Not really. No man. No job.

  “Others might say that he couldn’t keep up with my zest for life and ran before big, bad me gobbled him up.”

  J.P.’s expression became more serious. “What others say doesn’t interest me so much as what you say.”

  A new song came on. A fast, upbeat one. Finally.

  Good, because she was tired of this blah mood. Of bemoaning that her sister would be moving to the outskirts of San Padre to shorten Rob’s commute, that she’d soon be facing an empty house night after night, that she had no upcoming acting job prospects and would likely end up waitressing again.

  She pulled back from J.P. and began to move to the music. “Steve’s gone to D.C. to work as a consultant of some branch of the military. Our government needs him more than I do.”

  “Oh?” J.P. twirled her, then dipped her back.

  “He wants to settle down in some suburb outside the capital and have a good little wife to give him two point five kids. In between his military stints, that is,” she admitted, feeling her spirits lift with each twist and turn of her body. “Can you imagine me in Washington, D.C. and having to deal with all the political bull?”

  “No,” J.P. answered. “You’d paint our nation’s capital red and convince them all that it looked better that way.”

  Jessie grinned. J.P. knew her too well.

  “Well, I refused to go just as he knew I would when he asked.” She gave a “so what” shrug, never missing a beat with her body. “His asking me to go was merely a formality. He’s a great guy, but we’re not meant for each other.”

  “You looked pretty chummy the last time I saw you.”

  Jessie shimmied toward him, then hooked her fingers with his. “That was lust.”

  “Isn’t it a beautiful thing?” J.P. swirled her around.

  She laughed. She’d known Rob’s best friend and mentor would make her laugh. From the time they’d met when she crashed the castle during Jane Millionaire filming, J.P. went out of his way to make her smile. Well, only semi-crashed since J.P. paid for her trip and arranged for her perfectly timed interruption of the show’s grand finale. The conniving rat. She adored the older man all the same.

  “You know it,” she agreed, wondering why her chest hurt. “Now I’ve just got to find Steve’s replacement.”

  “I’ve got to find number seven.” J.P. tugged her to him and winked. Not a serious wink, but a flirtatious one all the same. “You don’t think we should give it a try?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  He was teasing. Just as she’d been teasing about searching for Steve’s replacement. That was not one of her new goals. She planned to stay away from men.

  Which wouldn’t’ be easy since she loved men. Loved the way they sounded, the way they smelled, the way they could hold a woman and make her feel like she was their entire world, even if they didn’t really mean it. She wouldn’t mind the real thing, like what Rob and Jill had. But with the loneliness creeping in even before Jill moved out, settling for less than the real thing didn’t seem like such a bad way to go and that wasn’t right. Jessie was tired of settling.

  Larry had been settling. Steve had been settling. All the men she’d ever dated had been settling.

  No more settling.

  The man’s blue eyes from the cab twinkled into her mind.

  He and his stiff arrogance most certainly would have been settling.

  J.P. twirled her to him. “We need to talk business.”

  That caught Jessie’s attention. “Business? What kind of business? For the record, I was kidding about the porns. Although if things don’t improve soon, I’m going to reconsider a few recent offers to pose nude.”

  J.P.’s white brows shot up. “You’re kidding?”

  “Maybe not.” She’d taken her clothes off for a lot less than a role in a movie or a fat check. Following her parents’ death she’d have done most anything for the complete attention of another person. Sex had been no big deal. Just a means to end the loneliness clawing at her insides. She’d sought other more destructive means to ease that loneliness, too. None ever worked, not in a way that lasted more than the moment.

  “Jill would strangle you,” J.P. unnecessarily informed.

  “Hey, if taking off my clothes would get me noticed, dude, I’m so there.” She flashed him an I’m-jerking-your-chain smile. “Besides, it worked for Paris, so maybe it’ll work for me, too.”

  “Paris doesn’t have a thing over you,” JP assured.

  “Except a few million.”

  They walked off the dance floor, and he offered a drink. Jessie shook her head. She’d had two glasses of champagne and that was enough. She rarely drank these days.

  “Wolf gave me a new show. A talk show.” J.P.’s pale blue eyes took on a serious hue. “I need a female co-host.”

  She put her hands on her hips and glared. “You know I don’t want any favors.”

  “You’ll be doing me a favor. You’re exactly what Wolf is looking for. What I want for the show.”

  “A talk show? Me?” For the briefest of seconds, she considered it. After all, she couldn’t do hair commercials and thriller walk-ons where she shook her boobs, screamed, and then got killed for the rest of her life. How many times could she die a bloody on-screen death in some horror flick? Apparently a lot, but she really wanted to be an actress, not a talk show hostess. “Thanks, but no thanks. You’ll find someone else to co-host with you.”

  “I’m producing the show, not hosting it. Wolf is doing an overhaul on one of its current programs.”

  “Sounds great, but I’m not interested.” Ready to network, find a job lead on her own, she visually canvassed the room.

  That’s when she saw him.

  Despite her acting skills, she inhaled. Deep and sharp and shocked.

  He was here.

  Why was he
here?

  She was glad he was here.

  J.P. turned to see who caught her eye. “You know Colin?” A sly smile curled his lips. “It’s his show you’d be co-hosting, you know?”

  No, she didn’t know, nor did she acknowledge J.P.’s words or even move. Just stared at the gorgeous, brooding tuxedo-clad man leaning against a wall and scowling as if he’d rather be anywhere but where he was. Perhaps he dissed the whole world and not just actresses he happened to share a taxi cab ride with? Sure appeared that way.

  “The job’s yours if you want it.” J.P.’s words echoed in Jessie’s ears. “And before you say no, do yourself a favor, and think about it.”

  Murmuring what he could do with his job, Jessie’s gaze didn’t budge when J.P. walked off.

  Nor could she believe he’d just offered her a job co-hosting a show with the Mr. GQ Smooth from the taxi.

  Chapter Two

  Colin hated these parties. If Maxwell hadn’t insisted on him being here tonight, no way would he have attended this who’s who of Hollywood.

  Not that he would have been able to do what he had planned. His foot hurt too damn much for playing the boys at the youth center in a game of hoops.

  Had he not been in such a foul mood, he might have smiled at the memory of the sassy vixen who’d left a black and blue keepsake at the base of his toes when he’d made a remark perhaps he shouldn’t have made about her chose profession. It had been a long time since a woman stirred his interest, much less grabbed hold as the blond bombshell had. She’d been a feisty one that was for sure. Too bad she’d been an actress.

  A bad-tempered one.

  A sharp-heeled one.

  He’d limped for an hour after her parting gesture. His foot still throbbed. Hell, she’d made him throb in places that hadn’t throbbed in a long time.

  She’d bewitched him because he hadn’t been able to concentrate for the remainder of the day. Not on anything but the memory of her interested green gaze. An interest he’d returned, whether he’d wanted to or not. Not being the case. Women were trouble with all capital letters. A distraction he didn’t need.

  Which is probably how Maxwell browbeat him into agreeing to attend this shindig.

  Noting his arrival, his boss came over to where Colin lingered against a wall near the entrance. He had no desire to mingle amongst the other guests. This wasn’t his kind of crowd. He reported the news, not entertainment.

  “You’re finally here.”

  Colin shook his boss’ outstretched hand. Maxwell might work in an office all day, but his grip was as firm as Colin’s own. “You really didn’t give me much choice.”

  “No.”

  Colin cast a distasteful glance around the ballroom. Paparazzi and partygoers, famous and wannabes, packed the place. The entire scene made him sick to his stomach. “You going to tell me why I’m here?”

  “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  “What?” Colin didn’t bother hiding his surprise. Maxwell wasn’t the kind of boss to fix him up on blind dates, surely? “Why here? Why not introduce us at the office like normal business?”

  “I thought it best if your first meeting was away from the office.”

  Bad vibes reverberated. Colin didn’t need journalistic instincts to know he wouldn’t like whatever his boss had brought him here for. “Who? Not a woman.”

  “A woman? Why would you ask that?” Maxwell threw his head back in laughter. “Not hardly. The network is replacing your current producer, but not with a woman.”

  “What?” He liked his producer. The guy came to work every day to collect his check and that was about all he did. He let Colin do as he wanted with his show. Which was exactly why Colin liked him. Little to no executive interference. The producer was happy. Colin was happy. Why would the network want to mess with a good thing? “Whose brilliant idea was that?”

  “Mine.”

  Maxwell’s? Shock flittered through him. “Why the hell would you do that?”

  “Because your ratings are an embarrassment.” Maxwell flicked an invisible speck from his suit. “Wolf can’t afford to keep your show as is. We need higher profit margins and your show is one of the ways we’re going to get them.”

  His show wasn’t about ratings or profit margins. It was about delivering the truth to the world. Or at least to those who cared to know the truth.

  Which might be the problem with his ratings.

  Nobody wanted the truth these days.

  Only higher profit margins and sensationalism.

  “You think a new producer is going to solve the rating problems?” He didn’t attempt to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. Or that the change to his show pissed him off. Sure, he worked for Wolf and ultimately, Maxwell called the shots, but someone should have discussed it with Colin first.

  The fact they hadn’t spoke volumes.

  He’d suspected for a few months. Now he knew. Someone at Wolf wanted to ruin him. Perhaps for good this time.

  Perhaps the man he stared at.

  “A new producer. A new look. A new co-host,” Maxwell smugly announced, crossing his tuxedo-covered arms.

  “Co-host?” If he’d been shocked before, the thought of having to share his show with another reporter-gone-talk-show-host floored him. “I don’t have a co-host for you to replace.”

  Maxwell shrugged. “A problem soon remedied.”

  “I don’t want a co-host.” Only two inches separated his face from Maxwell’s.

  “I didn’t ask what you wanted.” Maxwell had a lisp that came out when he was upset or angry. From the shower to his face he guessed Maxwell had reached his limit on both.

  He took out the ever-present white handkerchief from his pocket. Colin’s dad carried a handkerchief, and he’d always done the same. Always would. The tradition was one of the few things left of his father, one of the greatest reporters who’d ever told the news. He’d died delivering the truth, setting an example. Colin wouldn’t compromise his ethics. Not for ratings or higher profit margins.

  “You really should do something about that.”

  Maxwell grinned, not in the least annoyed by Colin’s comment. Or not letting it show if he was. “I am. I’ve hired a new producer for your show. You’ll respect him and do whatever he tells you.”

  “If I don’t?”

  “The network will sue.” Maxwell didn’t look overly concerned. “And, I’ll turn your show into a Betty Crocker puff piece with you as a daily patsy.”

  “You wouldn’t.” Even as he said it, he knew Maxwell would do exactly that if he believed it to the benefit of the network. Maxwell lived for the network.

  Which was why he didn’t quite trust his boss not to be at the root of whatever was going on behind the scenes at Wolf. If Maxwell thought it to Wolf’s advantage, he’d screw Colin in a heartbeat.

  “Here comes J.P. now.”

  “J.P.?” The name caught his attention. “J.P. Scott?”

  “You know him?”

  “Only through reputation, although I’ve briefly met him a few times. His earlier stuff was great, but the past few years he’s only produced crap, including that recent reality television drivel that everyone raves about.”

  Maxwell didn’t appear surprised. Probably could name the date and times Colin met the producer. Maxwell was that thorough, that determined to be more successful than his old man ever thought about being. Marrying Maria Rosewood single-handedly swung the odds in his favor.

  “He took a reality show to all new rating heights. The man knows his stuff. You should give him a chance.”

  “Except for the odd malfunctions,” malfunctions he couldn’t convince himself were accidental, “that keep happening, my show is exactly as I like it right now. Leave it alone.”

  “No. I have a board of directors and stockholders to answer to. From this point on, I hold you to the same standards as the rest of the company. Your numbers go up,” Maxwell’s face remained pro-poker player straight, “or else we’ll can the
show completely and find a different use for your talents.”

  Maxwell’s even tone and dark eyes raised the hair on Colin’s neck.

  “You’re talking about destroying what’s left of my career. I won’t report claptrap.”

  Maxwell laughed. “You wouldn’t have a choice if you ever wanted to work in television again. Wolf owns you for the next three years.”

  Maxwell wasn’t exaggerating. At least, not by much.

  Not about having the power to end his career should Wolf put the squeeze on him. Nor about Wolf owning him. At the time he’d signed his lucrative contract, he’d thought he was protecting his up-in-the-air-and-possibly-over career, protecting himself from an uncertain future. If only he’d known he was locking himself into a career prison.

  Wolf had the right to tell him when he could eat, sleep, and take a…he gritted his teeth, staring the man square in the eyes and not budging an inch.

  Maxwell’s poker face became agitated and the other man sighed. “Come on, Colin. It’s time to move forward with your life and your show. You’re in a rut, and we both know it.”

  Now wasn’t the time for Maxwell to start playing the good old boy buddy.

  “The two are not connected.”

  “Hell,” Maxwell scoffed, “you don’t even have a life.”

  “You don’t know a thing about my life.” These days Colin wasn’t sure he did either. Once upon a time he’d breathed with a lust for life. Alcohol destroyed that lust. Just as it had for his father. Now, Colin took life one day at a time and walked a straight and narrow line. Life was much safer that way.