She laughed. “Meaning, it’s a decision no one in their right mind would make?”
“All I’m saying is I’m not hanging my hopes, or my happiness, on being married. Maybe you’ve been around more successful partnerships than I have, but I figure mine’s a pretty healthy outlook on life.”
Valerie shifted her gaze out the window. “Probably.” It sounded to her like his narrow views on marriage had begun long before he’d hooked up with Shelby. It made her curious about his childhood, his parents, his family. But she’d probed enough for one night.
“What about you?”
She darted a look at him. “What about me?”
“You say you’ve moved around a lot. You landed this job with Glass Slipper and you’re very dedicated to it, to making a success out of it. I don’t know, I just get the feeling that career success is listed at number one on your Palm Pilot’s little to-do list. Hell, it’s probably the whole top ten.” He lifted a shoulder. “It just seems like relationships and marriage aren’t uppermost on your mind, either, or even bottommost. You said yourself you don’t even have the time to form friendships.”
He was right, but put like that it sounded so . . . well, pathetic. “I’m working on that. And you make it sound like I’ve sacrificed having a life for having a career.”
“Have you?”
That stung. “You don’t even know me.” Which wasn’t entirely the truth. In fact, she was beginning to think he knew her too well. “For all you know, I go out clubbing five nights a week, and end up with a different man in my bed every Saturday morning.”
Jack laughed. Valerie scowled.
“Maybe you do,” he said, barely making the attempt to placate her.
“And just because I don’t, doesn’t mean I’ve given up on love and marriage.”
“You’re just what, then, postponing it for a while?”
“I’m doing no such thing. Unlike you, I’m perfectly open to the idea of falling in love.”
“I never said I wasn’t.”
“And,” she added pointedly, “I assume at some point a marriage would follow. I don’t want to just fall in and out of love forever. Besides, you’re not even talking about falling in love. You’re talking about screwing around. Not that I have anything against that. But it’s totally different.”
“So, you’re saying that if I was really in love, I’d automatically want to get married.”
She waved her hands dismissively. “Live together as a committed couple, then, whatever you want to call it. But I don’t think that’s what you’re saying.”
He sort of shrugged.
She laughed. “You’re so full of it. You no more want to settle down again than you want to pose for another magazine cover.”
“Thank you, Dr. Phil. I think you’ve been reading too many of Eric’s books.”
She arched one brow. “Unlike you, who was supposed to but hasn’t.”
At least he didn’t try to deny it. “I skimmed.”
She wagged a finger. “I caught your careful nonanswers in there tonight. I bet that bullshit routine came in handy back in school, too.”
He reached out and snagged her wagging finger. “You think you’ve got me all pegged, don’t you,” he said tauntingly. “Is that what you do? Categorize people, so you can keep everyone in their tidy little places?”
She forced a laugh and yanked her hand away. “No, that’s what you do.”
He grinned widely, surprising her. “Yeah, but at least I admit it.”
“So I’m right,” she said, carefully steering them away from discussing her . . . and how clearly he’d pegged her. “You aren’t looking for commitment, you’re looking for a good time.”
He cocked his head. “You want to know what category you fall into?”
He caught her badly off guard with that one. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.
“Interesting. Not my type. Possibly worth it anyway.”
“I guess I’m supposed to be flattered that you considered making an exception in my case,” she said dryly, trying to find her footing. It didn’t help that his teasing brought her back to that kiss earlier tonight, and the one before that, in his apartment. Obviously they hadn’t meant anything to him. Nor had they to her, really. But she had a feeling she was the only one having a hard time believing that.
“I thought about it,” he went on, “but decided you’d be too much work.”
Her mouth fell open again, this time in affront. She folded her arms across her chest. “Which is why you’ve kissed me. Twice. You’d think someone like me would be right up your alley. Focused on her career, not wanting any sticky entanglements. Perfect for a roll, but not for a ring.”
That wicked grin flashed again. “You trying to talk me into it?”
“You really are incorrigible.”
Whatever Jack might have said in response was cut off when he glanced in the rearview mirror. “Shit.”
She started to turn around, but he reached out to grab her. “Don’t.”
“What?”
“Get down.” He started to shove her down. “No, wait, that’ll just look worse.”
Valerie struggled. “What in the hell are you talking about?”
“Dammit. Come here.”
And the next thing she knew, he was dragging her across the seat and into his arms. She pushed against his chest.
“Don’t fight me,” he said against her mouth, “someone is watching.”
She fought harder. “Well, this isn’t going to help any!”
“Just turn your face to mine,” he hissed, then grabbed her chin and pulled her mouth to his.
She fought the kiss for about a second, then sighed and gave in to it when he stopped punishing her with his mouth and started really kissing her, too. Vaguely she heard a car rolling along the wet street, but it barely registered.
He stroked his fingers back along her jaw and tilted her head so he could slant his mouth and take the kiss even deeper.
It was only when someone moaned, and she realized it was her, that she finally came to her senses and pushed away. “What were you thinking?” she demanded, albeit a bit breathlessly.
She was still in his arms and they only tightened when she tried to move away. “I was thinking that turning our faces toward each other would keep them away from the camera.”
She stiffened. “Camera? What cam—”
Just as she turned her head, a blinding flash emanated from the side window of a car idling about five spaces down the opposite side of the street. He was already squealing away before Valerie could stop gasping.
“That camera.” Jack easily kept her in his arms to prevent her from leaping from the car. “Do you want to hand the guy more ammo?”
“What guy?” She looked at him. “You know who it was?”
“Same dude who was outside my house earlier. I recognized the car. If you’d just stayed the way I had you, all he’d have gotten was two people kissing in a rain-covered car. He wouldn’t have had either of our faces.”
“But I was looking right—” She hung her head. “Shit.”
Jack just shook his head and sighed.
She punched him in the arm. Hard.
“Hey!”
“Hey is right. If you hadn’t pulled the Neanderthal act, all he’d have gotten was us sitting in the car, a respectable distance apart, talking.”
“Honey,” Jack admonished her, “it wouldn’t have mattered. No one sits on a dark side street, miles from home, to talk. At least, that would be the angle they’d have played, anyway.”
“Well, now they won’t have to work that hard at it, will they?”
He shrugged. “I was just trying to protect your identity. He knew I was in here, but seeing me with an unidentified woman was hardly going to tarnish the Prince Charming image. I could have spun that ten different ways. Eric’s readers, waiting for their prince to come, would have been tickled pink to know that Jack Lambert, aka the real Prince Charming, was
on the prowl. Trust me, I know how women think.”
“Oh, please,” she said, snorting in disgust. “You haven’t a clue.” She’d never admit he was completely right on one score, though. Now that he was out in the open, he was fair game. “You probably see this whole thing as a gig to fill your dance card. And we both know I’m talking about the horizontal tango here.”
His smile was unrepentant. “I’m just doing a friend a favor. If there’s something positive in it for me, then so be it. It’s not like I’m getting paid here.”
She frowned. “I thought Eric said—”
“Never mind what Eric said. And never mind what I just said.” He switched on the ignition. “We’d better get out of here before Peeping Tommy and his zoom lens make a reappearance.”
Valerie retreated into her thoughts as Jack wound them through the streets of D.C., ending up in a back alley, one block from the party.
“Now what?” she asked. At least the rain had finally stopped.
“One of the limos is back. Maybe you should let them take you home instead of me. Just in case.”
“Right. Okay.” She unlocked the door, but his hand on her arm stopped her from opening it.
“Listen, I’m sorry.”
She looked over her shoulder. “For?”
“For doing anything back there that might cause trouble for you,” he clarified. “Although that kiss was almost worth it.”
“Almost?”
“You need to relax more next time. Enjoy yourself.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” She slid out and closed the door, then leaned back down when he lowered the window. “There won’t be a next time.”
He pouted and somehow managed to look entirely too endearing. “And just when you’d convinced me.”
She knew she shouldn’t take the bait, but she couldn’t stop herself. “About?”
“Being the right woman at the right time.”
She laughed at that. “I couldn’t be more the wrong woman for you if I tried. And this is possibly the worst time.”
His grin only widened. “I know. That’s what convinced me.”
Natural selection
How do you know when you’ve met The One? You realize that no matter how long your Reasons-Why-I-Shouldn’t list gets . . . you still keep coming back for more.
Chapter 11
“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.” Jack tossed the tabloid onto the counter and sank onto one of his barstools.
“What in the hell were you thinking?” Eric paced Jack’s apartment. “You sure as shit don’t have to tell me what you were thinking with.”
“Oh, like your mind wasn’t on Brice’s virgin ass the whole night. And I use the term virgin strictly geographically.”
Eric paused, smiled briefly. “It is a sweet ass, isn’t it?”
“Please. No visuals before my first cup of coffee, okay?” Jack picked up the paper again, swearing as he raked a hand through his hair. “Has Valerie seen this yet?”
“I tried her house and her cell on my way over here. Nada.”
“Great. Just fucking great.” He stared at the grainy photos that had been blown up and plastered on the front page, providing checkout-line denizens everywhere the opportunity to ogle and discuss. One shot was of two people in the throes of a passionate kiss. The second, to erase any doubts as to the identity of at least one participant, was a surprised and very mussed Valerie. Of course, Jack knew her hair was like that because of the rain, but the photo made it look otherwise.
The headline read:
PUBLICIST PAYBACK FOR PRINCELY DUTIES?
The short write-up speculated that Glass Slipper’s ruthless new publicist had relied on a certain time-honored tradition to secure Jack as their cover boy. The writer—and Jack used that term loosely—wondered just what kind of favors Valerie had promised that had to be paid off in his car.
“Damage control,” Eric was saying. “We’re going to have to do serious damage control. For the magazine, the godmothers, and Valerie. If she hasn’t already been canned. That might be where she is right now. It would explain why she’s not answering her cell.”
Jack flung the paper toward the couch. It landed on the book he’d left lying open last night. To think he’d actually been so unsettled by his little conversation with Valerie that he’d thought he’d find some answers in one of Eric’s books. Obviously he needed a hell of a lot more help than any book could give him. He’d really blown it. The whole evening had gone without a hitch, then wham! one second of bad judgment, and it all went to shit. “What are you suggesting I do?”
Eric’s response was drowned out by the sudden pounding on the front door. He waved Jack back to his seat. “I’ll get it. Who the hell knows what might be out there at this point.” But after a quick peek through the fisheye, he immediately unlocked the door. “Hey,” he said as Valerie strode into the apartment. “We’ve been trying to reach you.”
“Yes, well, I haven’t been able to take calls all morning. I’ve been too busy making them.” She slapped a copy of the newspaper on the table, then noticed Jack’s copy strewn across the couch. “I see you’ve already been made aware of the happy little results of your brilliant strategy.”
“Have you talked to the godmothers?” Eric asked.
“Oh, yes,” Valerie responded. “At length.” She paced the room, alternately taking gulps from a Starbucks grande and glaring at Jack. “I’ve also talked with more reporters than I knew existed. All of whom apparently have nothing better to do on a Friday morning than read the goddamn Star.”
Jack pushed off his stool. “Valerie, I’m—”
She swung around to face him. “Don’t you dare. You weren’t sorry last night when you were playing your cavalier little game of cat and mouse with that reporter, so don’t insult me now.”
“I didn’t intend—”
“Too late,” she shot back. “Go grab a shower and put on something decent.” She turned to Eric, leaving Jack looking down at the old sweats and T-shirt he had on. “Help him coordinate something that says average guy with potential. I’m thinking jeans and a nice polo shirt, something like that. Blue if you have it, to bring out his eyes, but soften up that face.” She looked back at Jack. “And shave.”
“Am I allowed to ask why?”
“Because we don’t want you looking like a rake this morning; we need you to look like the nice guy next door.”
“And who am I looking like a nice guy for?”
She slapped her day planner down on the counter next to him and flipped it open. “Where would you like me to begin?” she asked, running a carefully manicured nail down a handwritten schedule. It was blocked off into half-hour and hour segments. Every one of them was filled in.
“Jesus.” Jack took the coffee cup from her hand and drained it.
She snatched the cup from him. “He can’t help you. But I can. Go clean up. Then we’ve got battle strategy to go over.” She looked at Eric. “We’re going to need more coffee. And food. Have you guys eaten? I’ve been up since five and I’m starving.”
Eric waved a hand. “I’ll take care of it. How does it look outside?”
“Who the hell cares about the weather?” Jack demanded, his hair standing on end now that he’d raked his hands through it so many times.
“I’m not asking about the weather,” Eric explained.
“No one I’ve seen so far,” Valerie told him. “Did anyone follow you home last night, Jack?”
He blew out a sigh. When had this gone so wrong? He already knew the answer to that. The moment he’d kissed Valerie. Hell, before that. The moment he first decided he wanted to kiss Valerie. “Our happy paparazzi guy was here when I finally got home.”
“Finally?”
“Yeah, finally. I drove around for a little while, okay?”
She didn’t press him and he was perfectly happy to let her believe he’d been trying to throw anyone else with a camera off his trail. In fact, he’d driven the streets of D.C., trying
to figure out what he was going to do about Valerie. Specifically, what he was going to do to make sure he kept his hands off of Valerie. Shouldn’t have been that big a deal. As far as he knew then, save for a possible appearance or two, professionally speaking, he was done with this job. Problem was, personally speaking, he wasn’t ready to be done with her.
“No one else?” she asked.
“No. When he saw I was alone, he lost interest. Probably ran off to zap the picture in so he could get the big payday.” He shoved off his stool. “Listen, I want to—”
She held up her hand. “You want to go take a shower. Eric, I’d kill for a sesame bagel and cream cheese. I’ve got more phone calls to make, and I have to check in with the godmothers.” She tossed him a look. “Why are you still standing here? We’ve got approximately”—she looked at her watch—”fifty-five minutes. And we’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”
Jack saluted. “Yes, sir, drill sergeant, sir.”
“You really don’t want to be cocky with me right now.”
You have no idea the things I want to be with you right now, Jack thought, surprised to discover that rather than dampening his desire for her, watching Valerie march around in her plum-colored suit, with her hair ruthlessly combed up into one of her tidy little twists, just made his fingers itch all the more to rip off that jacket, yank the pins out of that twist, run his fingers through all that hair, and—
Eric cleared his throat, jerking Jack’s attention away from Valerie. He slung an arm around Jack’s shoulders and herded him toward the bedroom door. “Dude, you might want to kill the whole smoldering routine,” he said quietly, out of Valerie’s earshot. “Or at least take it down, say, a hundred degrees or so.”
Jack shrugged Eric’s arm off his shoulders. “What in the hell are you talking about?”
Eric just grinned. “You know damn well what I’m talking about. You look at her and it’s like flames shoot from your eyes. I’m just saying that might not be helpful to your cause, or hers, when you go on camera.”
“Camera?”
Eric nodded. “So make the shower a cold one. And save the hungry looks for after this is all over.”
Dear Prince Charming Page 16
