“Tammy can have him,” she said aloud.
“What?” Dion turned his head on the white pillowcase, his eyes fluttering open.
She touched his cheek. “Sorry. Just talking to myself.”
“About what?”
“How lucky I am. Compared to a year ago.”
“Yeah?” He tucked his hand behind his ear and lifted his head, smiling sleepily.
“I just didn’t know lovemaking could be like this,” she said, feeling heat stain her cheeks. “Or that I would want to just stare at some sleeping guy next to me.”
“You didn’t stare at Keith.”
“He drooled.”
Dion laughed, scrunching his eyes closed at the image. “I’m glad I don’t drool.”
“You could be dehydrated,” Kasee said, suddenly worried. “Would you like some water? Or coffee?”
“Want to have breakfast in bed?”
“Sure. I can go start the pot.”
Dion sat up, stretching, all of his glorious muscles rippling. “I’ll do it. I need to use the facilities anyway.”
“Take a shower,” she invited. “I’ll figure out breakfast. You don’t know my kitchen yet.”
He smiled and stroked her nose. “I like the ‘yet.’ ”
“It was a good night,” she purred.
He nodded. “That it was.” His phone beeped, and he picked it up while she climbed out of bed. She figured she’d start breakfast anyway. Even if he had to leave, he’d want to take coffee with him.
In the kitchen, she surveyed her options. They’d expended a lot of energy over the course of the night, so they could eat more than she usually would. She heated a pan and threw a couple of slices of bread in the toaster. While eggs cooked, she smeared a quarter of an avocado on each slice of toast, then flipped the eggs and started a piece of toast for herself. By the time the eggs were done, she had all her toast ready and the coffee was brewed. She slid the eggs onto the avocado and drizzled some soy sauce over the eggs, then sprinkled fresh cracked pepper over the entire concoction. The plates didn’t look quite fancy enough so she took one last look in the refrigerator and found some sliced pineapple that hadn’t gone bad yet, so she divided it between the plates.
“What else?” She said aloud. How did she not know how her new man took his coffee? She didn’t have a creamer or a sugar bowl, so she made do and tossed it all onto a silver tray that she’d found in a cupboard, and slowly carried it all upstairs.
“Nice,” Dion said approvingly, coming out of the bathroom, steam surrounding him. He took the tray from her. “Shall we get back in bed?”
She curled up under the covers, straightening the robe she’d thrown on, then Dion placed the tray next to her and slid in on the opposite side.
“I didn’t know about the coffee.”
“Black is fine, but I’ll have cream when it’s handy.”
She pointed to the juice glass full of milk. “Best I could do. Somehow I didn’t wind up with a coffee or tea service.”
“How come?”
“I walked out. It’s hard to retrieve much when you’ve had the locks changed on you. I figured most everything was his anyhow. Most of our wedding guests were his, so I didn’t even take the formal china.”
“At least you got a townhouse.”
“Right. But I need a job of some kind. I could sell this house and live on the proceeds for maybe five years, but I’d rather not do that.”
“When do you get paid for the show?”
“Not until the end of the shoot. I forgot about that. But I had a good payday for some gossip I sold, ten thousand dollars, so I’m good for now. And when I get paid, that’s enough to live on for at least two years, if I don’t try to show off too much.”
“You need good clothes for the show.”
“I know. I wish I had a designer friend, or a stylist. That would be perfect, so I could borrow looks.”
“I don’t know anyone like that. What about starting a business?”
“All I have is my ten thousand and a year of alimony. That’s not enough money to start a business right now. I have real estate taxes due.”
He bit into his toast and chewed. “Wow, this is excellent.”
“Thanks.” She smiled as she forked up pineapple, knowing his brain was churning.
He finally spoke. “I do have one contact that might help. Not real estate, though.”
“Who?”
“I have a friend at a local radio station. I know they are looking for an entertainment journalist.”
She scrunched up her nose. “Could I do that?”
“Why not? You’re very poised. I can’t exactly say you’re good with celebrities, but people like you in the public eye are exactly who companies like to hire for jobs like this. You bring an audience with you.”
She wanted to deny it, but he had a point after her Sky Mitchell and Thunder Road misadventures, however unlike her normal self they had been. “I’ve always heard you make a lot more money on things like memoirs if you are famous to start with.”
“Exactly. Want me to get you an interview?”
“Sure. It would be more fun than real estate.”
“Why did you get your license if you weren’t interested?” He took another bite of toast.
She was happy to see he was devouring his food. “It made sense to me at the time. Once the shoot for season two is over, I’ll find a better real estate agency. It’s not that I don’t want to do real estate, I just want to do it on my own terms.”
~
Three days later, Dion’s friend came through with an audition for her to be a radio personality after meeting with her in person at the station. Kasee, nervous and fretting because Brock insisted on shooting her first radio interview for Ladies of Baltimore, had to be filmed even though the interview was meant to be audio only. The station would play it during morning drive time if she did a good job.
“I might as well be auditioning for television,” she told Dion as her makeup was touched up by Lizzie in the production van outside of Pat’s Irish Pub. “First my interview to get a shot at the job, and now this.”
“At least it’s going to be an easy interview, even if you aren’t in the studio doing it over the phone. Pat Collins is an institution and you’ve known him for years,” Dion said.
“It’s never hard to get Pat to talk,” Kasee agreed, wondering if she should have worn a necklace after all, though she’d decided against it earlier since her dress was a vibrant floral print. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a rotten girlfriend these past few days. I want to make the most of my opportunities, but it’s taken all of my attention.”
Dion stepped aside as the makeup artist tried to maneuver around the back of Kasee’s chair. “I feel like I’ve been interviewing you continuously,” he said, trying to make a joke of it. But it was true. Kasee had been a pill, repeatedly asking him to interview her so she could practice being radio-friendly. He’d had no idea that her attitude toward Ladies of Baltimore was relaxed by her standards. No wonder she’d never really gotten started as a real estate agent. The woman could fret like a world champion. If she worried about every client the way she worried about this one interview, she’d be immobilized by stress.
He’d woken up to her shrieking that morning, and had stumbled into the bathroom thinking there was a mouse or something, only to discover she’d found a tiny whitehead on her chin. Not a sign of it remained now, but she’d acted like it was a calamity. And this interview was only being filmed for Ladies, not for the radio broadcast. Which meant there was an excellent chance it would never be aired at all, given that she was only one fifth of the show.
Also, they hadn’t had sex for days, even though they’d only been dating for a couple of weeks. Were they a romantic couple or business partners? He’d finally slept over last night, thinking that would do the trick, but instead had spent the evening doing a wine tasting with a selection that some company had sent her, and then practicing her interview questio
ns until he’d given up trying to seduce her.
“You have been interviewing me a lot,” Kasee said, patting his thigh. “But at least I haven’t been interfering with your job.”
“No.” He had been in a dry spell for almost a week. No celebrities around, and no one needed sports shots. That’s how it went. If he had another few days like this he’d have to go to New York for a while and work there. When he was desperate that was his backup plan. He had a friend who let him crash on his couch and he’d simply walk the streets until he found a payday. Something was always happening in the Big Apple, unlike in Baltimore.
“Are you going to stick around?” she asked, her perfectly made-up face betraying anxiety.
“I’ll be in the background cheering you on,” he promised.
The van doors opened. Lizzie poked her head through. “We ready to go?”
“Yes,” Kasee said, raising her voice to be heard over the street noise. “I’m so glad I’m not going on live, though.”
“Still being recorded live,” Lizzie said.
“Yes, but it will probably look funny if I mess up. Meanwhile, I’ll be costing myself the radio job, though.”
Dion jumped down from the van then helped Kasee step onto the street. “You’ll be fine. It’s just Pat.”
“Just Pat,” Kasee echoed, keeping a tight grip on his hand. Suddenly, she smiled and kissed his cheek. “Thanks for being so supportive. I’ll make it up to you in some really dirty way tonight.”
Dion wanted to believe that, but he was still hyper-aware of the camera man that had started to film them as soon as Kasee’s heels touched the street. “I’m sure I can come up with something.”
Her smile faltered. Had she come out of her self-focused cocoon for a moment and noticed him? Then she saw the pub sign. Her shoulders went back. She dropped his hand. And without a backward glance, she marched into the pub.
Half an hour later, he sat in the darkened room. The blinds had been closed in favor of artificial light. Kasee had been alternately charming and teasing Pat for a good ten minutes now, though she hadn’t done a very good job of getting stories out of him. Too busy flirting, as if she was enhancing her own brand instead of doing the radio interview. He was out of the limelight, supporting her. Did he want a star for a girlfriend? As a paparazzo, he was used to being unseen, a mere part of the star machine. But did he really want that for his life?
His beeper vibrated. He pulled it off his belt and saw Jorge’s number. He texted his partner. Thirty seconds later Jorge texted back. Bax and Tyler from Thunder Road were at a local strip club goofing off. He glanced up at Kasee, who was listening to Pop tell the story of the day Sky Mitchell came to his pub for the first time and listened to Teagan sing, then escaped the pub in women’s clothes to hide from photographers.
Kasee didn’t need him. She had this now that she’d hit her stride. He slid off his stool, figuring he’d sneak out the back, just like Sky had back in the day, so that he didn’t compromise the interview lighting. When he reached the door, he saw the camera man change his angle, and saw how upset Kasee looked, her eyes following him.
He mouthed “Sorry” and pushed through the door. Work had to come first after most of a week’s dry spell. He refused to feel guilty. He’d given the scene a great ending. Instead of triumph, a failure, an unexpected twist. Even though he knew she didn’t want a new storyline of her being failed in love again, there were limits to his patience.
Chapter Seven
Kasee woke up the next morning and reached for Dion, but discovered she was in bed alone. He’d never reappeared after he’d left Pat’s the afternoon before, nor responded to her texts. She rolled over and placed her head on the pillow he’d slept on over the past week, wishing their relationship was more stable.
The day before, after he’d disappeared, she’d headed over to the radio station and sat with the editor while he cut down her interview with Pat, then had taken it to the producer there. He’d been happy with her work, though she’d spent an uncomfortable half hour with him and the editor as they went through her shortcomings. Still, it had been a real learning experience.
Unfortunately, the producer told her that he didn’t think she was quite ready to go live on the radio yet, but he gave her another freelance assignment for the next day. She told him she was thrilled, but really, she felt like a failure, and Dion hadn’t been there to talk her through it. Her mother, though she’d spent an hour on the phone with her, had been a poor substitute. Also, she needed Dion’s opinion on how long she should go on doing these practice interviews when she wasn’t getting paid. He’d set her up for this, after all. She needed to know what the norm was. At some point she either needed to give up or demand to be paid. After all, they might be getting free promotion on her reality TV show.
She forced herself to give up the comfort of Dion’s pillow and get out of bed. Resolutely, she stripped the sheets, telling herself she should do some housework.
Eventually, too restless to stay inside her now-spotless house, she drove over to Dion’s apartment building to see if he was there, glad cameras weren’t following her. But she was his girlfriend, not his stalker. He ought to be happy she was checking on him, given that he’d disappeared almost twenty-four hours ago.
When she rang his apartment he didn’t answer. Growling, she sat down on the steps and sent him a text. This time she heard back. Home in five.
After a minute, she decided she couldn’t wait on the steps for him, so she went to the coffee shop around the corner and bought an iced coffee and perused a newspaper someone had left on a table. Ten minutes after that, Dion texted her to ask where she was. She couldn’t help smiling as she stood up, leaving the paper behind, and returned to his apartment. Good, he’d noticed.
“What have you been up to?” he asked, framed in his doorway after he let her into the building.
“I spent hours at the radio station, then I went home.”
“Did it go well?”
“I’m sure you know exactly how well it went.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, then turned around. She walked in and closed the door.
“Too long,” he said, after a pause. “That wasn’t exactly a radio interview you conducted.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t want to be controlling in front of the cameras,” he said. “I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of Pat.”
“But you did embarrass me. How could you leave me at what was basically a job interview?” She wrapped her arms around herself so they wouldn’t shake.
“Normal people have to work, Kasee. I got my first good lead in almost a week, and chasing celebs is my job.”
Kasee tasted bitter coffee on the back of her tongue. She wanted water and for him not to sound so irritated with her. “Did you get the shots?”
“I did, and I’m not sorry about that, because I made three thousand bucks off them, which I need.”
“I’m happy for you,” she said softly.
“Look. I didn't mean to be cruel. I just had to go.” He worried his lower lip with his teeth, then walked into his kitchen.
She wanted to hang her head. Why did it feel like their relationship was over all of a sudden? Just because he had to run to work while she was working? What did she expect? He wasn’t her personal assistant, he was her boyfriend. Maybe she’d let what little fame she had go to her head. She didn’t have to come first every second and he’d been doing her a favor. He was the giver so far, not her.
She heard water running, then he stepped back into sight with two glasses of water.
“How did you know that this was exactly what I needed?” she asked. “Thank you.”
“It’s pretty warm out there. You must have been outside waiting.”
“I walked up to the coffee shop.” She took a long drink of water. It tasted perfect. “I didn’t want to stay on your stairs.”
“Understandable.”
She swallowed, feeli
ng the bitterness depart her mouth. "It's just that I'm really falling for you, and I want this to be real, not just TV real. And when you disappear I get really insecure.”
His chest rose and fell. “I’m a guy who disappears, but I’m never gone forever.”
“I'm sorry, I know this is not what you signed up for. I’m giving you all of this emotion and need instead of sexy and badass." She forced a smile.
“That’s okay. We have a lot to figure out.”
“I appreciate everything. I really do.” She touched his arm. “Can I show you how much?”
"Speaking of that, I can't get my mind off your sweet body and all the things I want to do to you," he admitted.
So, basically, she’d told him she was in love with him and he was only in love with her body? What did she expect? She wished he’d say he was falling for her too, but there was still time. “I’m sorry it’s been so long since we had sex. I’ve been really preoccupied.”
He grinned. “Do you have plans now?”
She set down her water glass and thrust out her chest. “I’m free until my next radio interview tomorrow.”
“So you got the job?” His eyes narrowed.
“Yeah, I hear the skepticism in your voice. No, I didn’t get the job, but they gave me a second chance.”
“That’s cool. Fair, even.” His gaze drifted to her chest.
She nodded. “I have yet to find out what I’m good at.”
He set down his glass and reached for her. She let herself move into the circle of his arms. “I know something you’re good at.”
“Yeah? You like going to bed with me?” She ran her fingers down the front of his dark T-shirt. He was damp, a little sweaty. She bet his skin would taste salty.
“I do.”
“Who were you running after this morning?”
“Some dancer who’s reportedly having an affair with an R&B diva. Found the dancer, but not with the diva. So the photos will only be worth something if the affair is confirmed.”
Wild Irish: Wild Image (KW) (A Charisma series novel, The Connollys Book 1) Page 10
