by Misty Evans
“You mean ‘our’ room, don’t you?” He said it to the crowd, not to her, and winked at them.
The cameras were rolling. A sudden urge came over her. One she didn’t even try to suppress. “We’re not sharing a room. We’re not sharing anything, including your donation to help the children of 3 Wishes. You know why? Because your donation is a lie. The hundred thousand dollars plus an extra five grand you pledged to my foundation are missing in action. But I’m so glad you blew that much at the gambling tables last night. I caught you on TMZ.”
The elevator dinged and the doors opened.
“What are you talking about?” Hawke grabbed her hand and kept her from escaping. “The money was wired to you days ago.”
Over his shoulder, he spoke again to the paparazzi. “It’s a just a little misunderstanding.”
More cameras flashed and Jenna jerked her hand out of his. She stepped into the elevator, and when he tried to follow her, she gave his solid, pec-sporting chest a shove. “Oh, I understand everything. You’re a drunken loser who cheats disabled kids out of their dreams. You have a problem. I get it. But be responsible and get some flippin’ help!”
As the elevator doors shut, her last image of Hawke was his handsome face staring after her with a smile. He even winked. He loved the drama, the stuff that kept him in the spotlight.
Good God. It was like dealing with a certifiable, narcissistic, three-year-old.
In the room she changed into a hotel robe and was about to start blow drying her hair when a knock sounded on the door.
Crap, she hoped it wasn’t Jacob. She’d have to lie and say she’d just gotten out of the shower. Maybe it was housekeeping or room service. They delivered warm chocolate chip cookies for her every afternoon at Jacob’s insistence.
She hustled to the door. She’d grab the cookies and send them on their way so she could get her hair dry and find some clean clothes.
Throwing open the door, she pulled up short.
Hawke wagged a finger at her. “We’re not done with our little talk, J.”
A handful of his favorite paparazzi were crowding in behind him, holding up camera phones and voice recorders.
“Unless you’re about to hand me a hundred K in cash,” Jenna said, “we are SO done.”
Easing closer, he gave her an aw-shucks look. “May I come in? Please? I’m telling you, there’s been a misunderstanding. I want to make this right.”
Jacob could be there any minute. “Go to your bank here in town and have them wire the money today. Then we’ll talk.”
“I will. I promise.” He held out a hand. “Friends still?”
He seemed sincere. Jenna’s heart softened a smidgen. She wanted to continue believing everyone had some good in them. Especially her teenage crush. She remembered him that night at the amusement park, the handwritten note from her teenage years. “Friends,” she said, taking his hand and starting to shake it.
A handshake was not what he was after. He moved into her personal space, shifting her back into the room. One arm went around her waist and he pulled her into his chest.
“What are you doing?” she said, pushing against his chest. She had to tip her head back to look up at him. “Let go of me.”
“You’re a little firecracker.” He brushed his nose with hers. “I like my women hot and fiery.”
“I’m not your—”
Before she could finish, he dropped his lips to hers and kissed her.
Hawke Thorn, the fantasy man of her teenage years, was kissing her.
How many times had she fantasized about this exact moment? How many times had she watched his lips when he belted out those heart-wrenching love songs and wondered what it would be like to feel those lips pressing against hers?
The fantasy man had died to the real-life one.
And truth be told, he wasn’t much of a kisser.
Jenna jerked her lips away and was about to slap Hawke’s face when a voice came from the doorway that adjoined her side of the penthouse to Jacob’s. “What the bloody hell?”
A nasty smile crooked the corner of Hawke’s mouth as he glanced over at Jacob. Camera flashes lit up the room. “Hey, Swinton. Did Jenna tell you? We’re back together.”
18
Jacob had closed out the file on Michael Westmoreland. He'd been assisting the kid for the last five years since he started full time at Swinton. The kid was off to college now with a scholarship. So that was something he could feel good about. He’d checked his watch, knowing he’d see Jenna soon.
He’d been pondering where he stood with her when his email alert pinged. Abigail. Through the week she'd send him little Internet memes to make him laugh. Usually pictures of kittens getting into trouble, but this time, it was just a string of question marks with the photo and headline.
It was a live feed from Gossip Monger, the latest real-time gossip website. Always getting the latest dirt on celebrities before anyone else got the scoop. Jacob had stared at the photo and the bottom fell out of his life.
His gut curled in on itself. The photo had been taken that day. Jenna had put on that exact outfit after making love to him. A live video streamed as the photographers swarmed in on Jenna...with Hawke.
Bile churned in his gut and his airway constricted. When his phone buzzed on his desk, he considered not answering, but it was Abigail. “What?”
She knew better than to waste any time. “Is that her? The girl I talked to yesterday? I thought you two were—”
He loved his sister, but he couldn't listen to her hash through what he was seeing right now. He just...couldn’t. The nausea was the most prominent sensation, but it was closely chased by disorientation. Panic. Fury.
Ease up mate, you two never discussed being exclusive, and you knew she had a thing for the guy.
But that didn’t explain this. He’d all but told her how much he cared about her. Sure, he'd never actually come out and said, “Hey Jenna, I’d rather you didn’t see other people because I fucking think I’m falling for you.” No. Not in so many words, but fuck. How could she not know?
Verify before you lose control. Rein it in, Swinton. “Abigail. I can’t right now.”
“Jacob, I’m sorry. I was sending it to you because I couldn’t believe it. It's a live feed so she's probably being swarmed right now.”
Her words clicked in his skull and he understood. Yes, of course. Hawke might be in town, and it wasn’t too hard to figure out where she was staying and with whom. Of course the paps would swarm on her.
She's not really yours.
The hell she wasn't. But right now she was probably hiding out from the paparazzi and could use a hand. There was no need to jump to conclusions. She was still his. It had been his arms she'd woken up in this morning, his arms that had helped her in the shower because her leg was aching. He’d given her the best medicine, a healthy rush of endorphins, making love to her until the water turned lukewarm. Fuck, she was his.
“You're right. I need to go. Make sure she's okay.”
“Exactly. Go kick ass. One of those assholes said he'd even posed as a bellman to get the goods on where she was staying. Complete lack of scruples. Make sure she's okay. I like this one, Jacob.”
“Me too.” Shit, he more than liked her.
“I'll call you back.”
He hung up and stared at the photo for another moment. She'd said she had errands to run. Did those include meeting Hawke? She’d been leaving secretly nearly every day. Was she screwing him while seeing Hawke on the side?
You're a fucking Swinton. Since when do you chase women? Since when do you run after someone who doesn’t want to get caught?
Since Jenna. She was different.
When he'd met her she'd been sloppy, disorganized, and infuriating. Then he'd morphed her into the 'perfect' woman only to realize that he missed her Chucks. The rest was window dressing. He didn’t want to change a thing about her, the core Jenna. But he had done that, inadvertently driving her into Hawke's arms.
Sh
it, he needed to stay the fuck calm. This wasn't him. He could steady himself. He locked up the office and told his assistant to cancel his appointments for the day. Then he went to find her.
She was no longer outside or in the lobby. Maybe she’d escaped upstairs. When the elevator doors closed and he could be himself he’d sagged against the wall.
Fuck, he wanted the story to be false, needed it to be false. He loved her. He didn’t need Jenna to be the perfect dress up doll. He would take her in her sweats and jeans and Chucks any day.
Jacob scrubbed a hand down his face. He should have told her. Told her that he had real feelings for her. He knew from the things she said she thought this was all temporary. That he would tire of her. That he wouldn't want her anymore. She had no idea how far from the truth that was. He wanted her. Needed her.
The private elevator let him out on his floor and he used the private entrance. He could have come up the main entrance, but there were ten rooms on this penthouse floor and he didn’t want to risk running into anybody.
Using the keycard he swiped the magnetic strip and pushed the heavy door open.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention and he knew. Sensed that something was wrong, really wrong.
Jenna, in Hawke's arms. The two of them kissing. The image would be forever burned in his mind.
Bile rose and Jacob swayed as the force of fury eviscerated all control. “What the fuck do you think you're doing?”
Hawke dragged his filthy lips off of Jenna’s “Didn’t you hear? We're back together.”
Jenna struggled in Hawke's arms and shoved at his chest. “We are not together. Jacob, listen—”
There was murmuring and then a rush of footsteps as people ran into the suite. Flashbulbs went off and people shouted questions. Fuck.
He shook his head. Get out. Get out now. Fuck. He had to get the hell out of here. Unable to think or react, he shoved away at the door and escaped his own personal hell. Just get out of the hotel and away from her. You’ll be fine. Run. Do not look back, do not turn around.
He pushed the button for the elevator and she stumbled down the hall after him. “Jacob, wait, it's not what you think. He showed up at the hotel. I didn’t want him here. He kissed me.”
Jacob didn’t look at her. There was only so much he was going to take. He thought he'd be angry. He thought he'd be raging, but instead, a frozen calmness settled over him. He was done. “Jenna, stop talking.”
“Do not walk away from me. Talk to me. This isn’t what it looks like. You have to believe me. What can I do? Let's go back in there and you can ask him yourself. I just—please.”
He knew he'd be hearing her voice in his head if he didn’t do something about this. Didn't address how he'd just found her. He knew it would burn, eat at him. “How long has Hawke Thorn been your perfect guy?”
“He's not perfect. He's not. He’s an ass and I need—”
He wasn’t in the mood to listen. “Fine, you don’t want to answer that question. Just this one, where have you been today? Yesterday, too. Matter of fact, every day that you vanished while we're here in Vegas, where do you go?”
Her mouth opened then slammed shut. “Jacob, I need you to trust me.”
“This isn't about trust, Jenna. You know what kind of man he is. You know what kind of man I am. But you've made your choice. I know how that goes. I'll respect it. We're done.”
The doors opened and he stepped in. When he turned their gazes met, and his resolve shook, but then his brain offered up the image of her and Hawke kissing.
She'd chased the drunken rock star. Fine by him. He didn’t need this anyway. Relationships complicated things. They made people want things and expect things. Good thing he knew better than to repeat that mistake.
The doors closed on her protests and he punched the wall.
If that was true, why did he feel like shit?
19
He wouldn’t answer her texts. Wouldn’t answer her calls. He never returned to his room at the hotel once those elevator doors closed.
For days afterward, Jenna couldn’t shake the utter devastation she’d seen in Jacob’s eyes.
They were scheduled to fly home to San Diego at five that evening—the evening her world had stopped spinning. A bellhop had come to her door at four-thirty to take her luggage down. The car was waiting, he’d said.
Finally, Jenna had thought. I’ll see Jacob and get this whole thing straightened out.
Except Jacob hadn’t been on the plane. Mary informed her he’d flown home earlier and sent the plane back for her so she wouldn’t be stranded.
Thoughtful Jacob, even when he was furious with her.
It seemed so simple to talk it out. For her to explain. Hawke had ruined everything, but in her heart Jenna knew it was her own fault. The warning signs had all been there, and she’d noticed them but ignored them anyway. She’d transformed herself, believing if she were—fill in the blank…sexier, funnier, prettier, just overall better—Hawke would see her, love her, or at the very least, like her. If she showed him how hard she worked and how awesome her kids were, they would melt his heart and he’d become a long-term donor. Maybe he’d join AA and become a guy again. His money would sponsor the new adventure club. Maybe he’d even invite her backstage after a concert. Send her flowers. Sing a song just for her.
Stupid dreams. She’d given up on Hawke being her perfect man almost from the get-go, but she’d never expected Jacob to fill the position so effectively.
Now he was gone.
After Jacob left, she’d told Hawke to go to hell in front of the paparazzi and tried to march back into her room, but he kept getting in her way. He was bigger and stronger and she’d been overwhelmed once again. She’d become pre-Jacob Jenna McIntyre and nearly had a meltdown. All she wanted was to get on some decent clothes and run after Jacob. Hawke and his band of merry media had surrounded her and kept her from going anywhere until she’d finally threatened to call the police.
A week later she sat at work, the board in an uproar about her face being splashed all over the media and giving 3 Wishes a black eye. Apparently being Hawke’s humble heroine was no longer a good thing after she’d called him an alcoholic on camera, yelled at him one too many times, and cussed him out to boot.
TMZ had capitalized on all the Jenna footage and given her her own hashtag 'McRantintyre.' She had her own meme, for goodness' sake. Even Van was worried about the bad press, telling her to lie low and not take phone calls from reporters for awhile.
Like she needed that advice.
What she did need was Jacob to tell her how to turn the bad press into good press. She’d picked up the phone at least a dozen times that morning, hoping if she appealed to his sense of knight-in-shining-armor he’d ride in to defend her.
Except she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t ask him to help her with this. She was on her own.
Deservedly so. She hadn’t told him about sneaking off to meet Ruth and Calen, hadn’t told him about the other families Ruth put her in touch with so she could snoop on him. But she’d had this glorious plan to bring his good deeds to light in order to show the 3 Wishes board he deserved to be Donor of the Year. A surprise, a secret. Jenna loved surprises. She had hoped Jacob would, too.
Hawke’s money had finally arrived in the 3 Wishes account, but there was no way she was letting him receive the Donor of the Year award. She hadn’t touched it yet, and was prepared to send it back. She’d called the board members already to let them know she was pulling her support of Hawke, but each of them had laughed her off. She might be a blight on 3 Wishes, but they weren’t about to piss off Hawke Thorn by not giving him the DOTY award. Talk about bad press. They’d all told her to suck it up and be prepared to give Hawke his award.
The dinner was in two days. Two days. She had to do something, and do it fast. Her parents were due home. Alex and Van were coming, too. Three hundred guests, including the media.
Just thinking about it gave her
hives.
She didn’t know how she’d get through it, but she had a surprise card up her sleeve. Even if Jacob never wanted to talk to her again, she knew who he was really was. What he’d been hiding. For the past week she’d thrown herself into making sure the whole world would know soon too. She just had one last edit to make and then her video for him would be ready for the dinner.
Wanda knocked and entered without waiting for Jenna to respond. She carried a couple of garment bags. “Here’s your dry cleaning.” She hung the three suits and jacket on the closet door and tossed a small disc drive onto Jenna’s desk. “Delivery guy said that was in your trench coat pocket. They found it before they cleaned the coat.”
“Thanks.” Jenna eyed the USB. She’d never seen it before. “I don’t think that’s mine, though.”
“Well, let’s see what’s on it.” Wanda reached out to grab the red disc drive, waggling her eyebrows. “Could be dirty pictures.”
Jenna smacked her hand away. “I’ll look at it.”
Wanda sidled around the desk to Jenna’s side as she plugged the USB into her computer. A few seconds later, a file popped up. Inside the file was a video labeled “Thorne meeting, Vegas” and the date.
Jenna clicked the play button. A shadowy image came into view. Hawke had his back to the camera, his long hair floating over his shoulders as he spoke in hushed tones into a cell phone. His surroundings looked like the backstage at one of his shows. Instruments, lights, and various people with headsets and walkie-talkies came and went, none of them disturbing the rock star.
“I told you, I don’t give three shits about that stupid foundation or that ugly bitch running it. It’s all for the press, Carlita. I love you, baby. You know that. But the judge only gave me thirty days to turn things around or he’s putting my ass in jail for real this time. Thirty days! I need that Donor of the Year plaque and the letter from the board that comes with it to tell him about all the good shit I’m doing for her freaky sick kids. This will all be over soon, I promise. Then we’ll be together.”
