Her gaze climbed the long legs clad in wellfitting jeans, pumped torso outlined through his tight tee, to the gorgeous model face. Someone might have stolen a cardboard cutout of the perfect hero and breathed life into it, and that’s who stood on her doorstep. “Yowsa,” she said on an exhale. He cocked a delighted brow. “Pardon?” “May I help you?” Please say yes. “I believe it’s the other way around.” “Really?” Thankyouthankyouthankyou! “I mean …what do you mean?” The timbre of his deep voice filled the space between them. “I’m here to help. Use me.” Wait. This had to be a prank. “I get it. Mimi sent you.” His brow furrowed. “Mimi? No.” Patience waning, she heaved a sigh. “Who are you?” “I think you know.” He leaned a ripped bicep against the doorjamb in a move that seemed scripted—by her. “No. Tell me.” “Jake? Ring a bell?” She might have guessed. “Oh, right. Jake Emerson?” He clucked his tongue. “The one and only. I knew you’d recognize me anywhere.” “Even at my own condo. Go figure. So why are you here? As a prop for the signing?” Damn, he fit the role perfectly, too. She couldn’t have picked a better actor. She jotted another note to ask Mimi if he could pose for the next cover. A cardboard cutout would be perfect for signings. “Is that what you need?” he asked with a hint of disappointment. She peered past him. “No bags?” “I travel light.”
Praise for Cate Masters “Never read a Cate Masters book? What’s wrong with you? You are missing out on a great author who writes such romantic tales that really touch your soul.” ~Mistress Bella Reviews ~*~ “The author grabs you from the first chapter and takes you on a great ride.” ~The Romance Studio ~*~ “Cate Masters is a gifted writer who wrote this book with talent and marvelous imagery. I could almost see, taste, hear and touch what was occurring.” ~Long and Short Reviews ~*~ “I did not want it to end.” ~Fallen Angel Reviews
Romancing the Hero by Cate Masters
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental. Romancing the Hero COPYRIGHT 2011 by Cate Masters All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. Contact Information:
[email protected] Cover Art by Diana Carlile The Wild Rose Press PO Box 708 Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706 Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com Publishing History First Faery Rose Edition, 2011 Published in the United States of America
Dedication To Gary, always my hero. Blue skies ahead, babe.
Chapter One Dabbing her eyes, Jody Feather read aloud the last delectable bits. “Jake pinned Sadie to the bed. ‘Let’s test your theory that sexual bliss can extend indefinitely.’ “Twining her fingers through his hair, she drew him down. ‘It might tie you up a long time.’ Before his mouth engulfed hers, he smiled. ‘I’m all yours, for as long as it takes.’” Half sobbing, half laughing, Jody leaned away from her laptop. “Isn’t it the best yet?” If only she could find a man like him. Snuffles at the other end of the phone confirmed it. Mimi, her agent and friend—when sales ranked high—sighed. “Readers will adore it. This will fly off the shelves.” Without a doubt. So many fans had emailed her, begging to know the release date of the next installment in the Jake Emerson series. Her Facebook fan page contained so many posts about it Jody had asked her assistant to keep up with them. As much as she loved writing, inspiration failed her lately. Reaching The End never presented such a struggle. Mimi urged, “Email me the final right away.” “You’re sure it’s safe?” After a hacker posted another bestselling author’s work online before she’d officially finished, Jody didn’t trust Internet communications. All trace of sentimentality lost, Mimi said, “Yes, we need to get it into production, pronto.” Pronto. Jody hated that word. One Mimi was 1
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prone to use. “All right. You’ll have it today.” “Awesome.” Mimi oozed the two-syllable word. “Great timing too. You can announce it this weekend at the conference.” Ugh. Jody had tried to block that event from her mind. Pittsburgh…whee. An almost equal trade for her hometown of Akron. “Right. And the signing’s all set?” For the pittance they paid her as a keynote speaker, a signing would at least make up for it, and the conference had sold out, ensuring an audience. Captive—if not rabid for Jake Emerson. Fans couldn’t get enough of him, the super sleuth/sex god. The kind of man that caused women to swoon, to stray from their husbands; who knew exactly how to please any woman he met. The kind of man who didn’t exist. “Details have been arranged,” Mimi said. “Now send me that file, and pack your bags. And Jody?” Still caught up in her imagining, Jody asked, “Yes?” “Have fun.” “Fun?” Fun was something her characters had. Something Jody fantasized about. Something she needed. “Yes—fun!” Mimi fell short of gushing. “Your fans will be there, clamoring for more.” “I’d have more fun if Jake were there.” How many times had she dreamed of his strong arms enfolding her in an embrace? His talented tongue wandering over her body… Mimi’s nasal laughter snapped Jody back to reality. “Oh Jody, you’re a hoot. Let me know how it goes. And send me an outline of your next project as soon as you’re home again.” Her cell display went black. Mimi was gone. If only it were so easy to get rid of her in real life. Next project? Didn’t she deserve a break? Not 2
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according to Mimi, who counseled the momentum would die down immediately if Jody didn’t keep pumping the stories out there. Some friend. Something else she could use, after burying herself behind a keyboard for months on end. For now, she’d concentrate on the conference. She should look forward to these events. Lately, it all seemed like a big fat lie—her exuberant prose, her steamy romance scenes. Her life resembled none of the above. She hadn’t even dated in almost a year. Seeing Brad’s name on the conference program dampened her enthusiasm, but she’d already guessed the editor of a fledgling indie press would attend. After Brad unceremoniously dumped her after two years, the only time she opened her heart was when she wrote. He’d been her lover and friend, confidant and critique partner. Definitely too many eggs in one basket, and he’d cracked them all. Instead of turning bitter, she’d made her hero, Jake Emerson, into a sensitive, caring guy who put satisfying a woman above his own pleasures. “Yup, definitely a figment of my imagination.” If any guy like Jake existed, some woman would snatch him off the market in a blink. The only steam in Jody’s life came from the shower, or a cup of coffee. Lifting her cup, she scowled at its tepid contents. “I need a travel mug to keep it hot.” Too bad no one invented the equivalent of a travel mug for relationships. She’d invest in any device to keep romance hot. “Sad, isn’t it, Frank?” She inserted a finger between the wires of the bird cage for her parakeet to nibble. “Wish I could bring you along.” The ideal pet, Frank hardly needed her either. Once she filled the seed cup, he’d sing away, oblivious to her. Typical male. She loved him though. He cheered her apartment with his Sinatra-esque crooning, and 3
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required only a paper change, water, and seed treat. Low maintenance—just her style. Mm. And maybe your biggest problem, a small voice nagged in her head. At least, according to her mom, who reminded her women over thirty had less chance of finding a good husband. “Good,” according to Mom, equaled a steady paycheck, but Jody preferred a fun, attentive guy, even at—gasp!— thirty-four. So what if she invented him? One day, she’d find the real thing. Retracting her finger from the bird cage, Jody frowned. “Hey, I don’t have time to cater to a guy’s every whim. Preen your own feathers.” Half-dressed, she frowned at the open suitcase on the bed. “What am I missing?” She never failed to forget some crucial item on a trip, and only realize it at midnight when no replacements were available. While she ran through a mental checklist, the doorbell rang. “Coming.” Who could that be? She hadn’t ordered anything, and expected no one. Had Mimi sent a courier to pick up the manuscript instead? Ah—pens. She always ran out of good ones at signings. After pulling on a pair of capris, she grabbed a pad of paper. Opening the door, she said, “Yes?” while jotting a note. The ink faltered—she knew it!—so she shook the pen. “Jody Feather?” The deep voice rushed at her like a hot breeze, reverberated through her, and stopped her where she stood. “Ye—” Her gaze climbed the long legs clad in well-fitting jeans, pumped torso outlined through his tight tee, to the gorgeous model face. Someone might have stolen a cardboard cutout of the perfect hero and breathed life into it, and that’s who stood on her doorstep. “Yowsa,” she said on an exhale. 4
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He cocked a delighted brow. “Pardon?” “May I help you?” Please say yes. “I believe it’s the other way around.” “Really?” Thankyouthankyouthankyou! “I mean …what do you mean?” The timbre of his deep voice filled the space between them. “I’m here to help. Use me.” Wait. This had to be a prank. “I get it. Mimi sent you.” His brow furrowed. “Mimi? No.” Patience waning, she heaved a sigh. “Who are you?” “I think you know.” He leaned a ripped bicep against the doorjamb in a move that seemed scripted—by her. “No. Tell me.” “Jake? Ring a bell?” She might have guessed. “Oh, right. Jake Emerson?” He clucked his tongue. “The one and only. I knew you’d recognize me anywhere.” “Even at my own condo. Go figure. So why are you here? As a prop for the signing?” Damn, he fit the role perfectly, too. She couldn’t have picked a better actor. She jotted another note to ask Mimi if he could pose for the next cover. A cardboard cutout would be perfect for signings. “Is that what you need?” he asked with a hint of disappointment. She peered past him. “No bags?” “I travel light.” “Didn’t she tell you? There are several events. Dinner, the keynote, plus the signing itself. You might want a change of clothes.” Though if anyone could pull off wearing the same outfit every day, he could. She could claim it was Jake’s brand, his image, an intentional move to make him recognizable to conference attendees. Mimi always 5
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droned on about the brand, the brand. Besides, who’d notice his clothes? They only wrapped the prize beneath. And what a yummy prize. She had to hand it to Mimi, the marketing genius. Musing aloud, she murmured, “Where did they find you?” “They didn’t. I’m Jake.” “Right. And I’m Lara Croft.” Not even her Halloween costume could turn her into the sexy heroine. He chuckled. “You’re better than that bimbo.” Oh boy. “Let’s not get carried away, shall we? It’s temporary.” “Why? Do you plan to kill me off?” “Don’t tell me you’ve read the series.” All that and a reader to boot. “I don’t need to read it. I live it.” His devilish smile almost blocked out his words, which hit her like a slap. Yikes. “Listen, Mr…” Rolling her hand, she prompted him to finish. “Emerson.” Method actor, apparently. She’d play along for now. “Sure. Mr. Emerson.” A car horn sounded outside. “The taxi.” And she hadn’t remembered whatever she’d forgotten. Too late now. “Give me two seconds.” She hurried to grab her jacket. “Take all the time you need, baby.” The endearment brought her to a screeching halt. “Hold on. I get that you’re ‘Jake Emerson’ but when we’re together, address me as Ms. Feather. I am not your baby.” Or anyone else’s, unfortunately. After this weekend, she’d change that. His mouth curled down in a brief frown. “Pity.” “Give it a rest.” She’d written this scene in the second novel, when Jake first meets that leading 6
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lady. How many scenes had he studied? Hopefully he wouldn’t reenact too many. Sure, she loved her work, but not so much she wanted to live it. Except for certain parts, like the shower scene in book three…You don’t have time for this. After grabbing her bag, she said a quick goodbye to Frank. “It’s only for the weekend. See you Monday.” She glanced at the man waiting at her door. “Tuesday at the outside.” Never rule out any possibilities. Her parents taught her that. And she’d made it Jake’s motto, one of the reasons fans loved him. Time to make it her own motto as well. The saying had given her the strength to leap from journalism into fiction. If they only knew what she considered leaping into now…well, she was old enough to face those consequences. And enjoy them while they lasted. Holding a hand to his sculpted abs, he bowed. “May I carry your bag, Ms. Feather? Or are you too liberated for such a show of chivalry?” Wiseass. He had that aspect of Jake down pat. “Please. Take it, with my gratitude.” It gave her a chance to follow him down the walkway, and admire his rippling biceps and tight end, made more luscious by his swagger. She paid particular attention. She had to, or she wouldn’t be able to describe it in all its vital deliciousness in a later novel. Oh yeah, she loved being a writer.
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Chapter Two It might’ve been any hotel in any city. Jody had pretty much seen all the chains, but as the taxi parked beneath the roof extended over the entrance, this facility seemed more anonymous than the others. White, its stacks of floors rose tall, no distinguishing mark other than its red logo gracing the top floor. At least the hotel’s proximity to her home allowed for less than two hours’ travel. Two hours lost, as far as she was concerned. With Jake in the car, she couldn’t very well work, as she’d planned. Nor had she been able to extract any more information about his personal life. Mimi must be paying him a hell of a good sum. The guy knew Jake Emerson’s stories to the last detail, mannerisms included. Standing on the walkway, she stretched tall, her method of easing her muscles without becoming a public spectacle. Assisting the driver with loading the luggage onto a dolly, Jake’s gaze flicked up. “A dip in the pool would help you unwind.” Nice as that sounded, she couldn’t. “I have work to do before dinner.” Glancing away, he appeared disappointed. The nerve. Why should he care? Miffed, she strutted through the glass doors. The sight of Brad Meyer, her ex, at the check-in desk sent her diving behind the nearest potted palm. Steering the dolly, Jake halted. “Everything all right?” “I’m fine. I’m just—” Her mind raced for an 8
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excuse. She whipped out her cell. “I’m checking my messages, and this spot seems to have the best reception.” “I see.” His tone indicated the opposite. She thumbed through the nonexistent texts while sneaking glances at the desk. As Brad strode away toward the elevators, she released a breath. “All done. Let’s go.” She stepped out but Jake blocked her path. He leaned close, his voice low. “So who is he?” Flustered, she straightened. “Who?” The ding of the elevator signaled Brad’s departure. If only it were final. Jake watched him with an assessing gaze. “The guy you were avoiding.” So what if he knew? All innocence, she glanced at the closing elevator doors. “Who, him? No one special.” Though he used to be. Or so she thought. Too bad Brad considered himself more special than anyone else did. Brushing past him, she exuded an air of confidence she didn’t feel. “I need to check in. The first panel starts in about an hour.” Jake’s stare bored into her back as she strode to the receptionist. His palpable presence drew the girl’s focus away from Jody every few seconds, and she repressed the urge to wave snapping fingers in front of the girl’s face and tell her: eyes on me. The girl could at least wait to ogle him until Jody had finished, but who could blame her? The sensation of him behind her both comforted and annoyed her. Who was he? Why had no one alerted her he’d accompany her? Still, she knew the meaning of the phrase “got your back” now. Jake stood close as a bodyguard, waiting for her command. She could get used to that. **** One of four writers on the late afternoon panel, 9
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Jody shared a desk microphone with author Stephenie Toombs. Or was supposed to share. Apparently no one had taught Stephenie the meaning of that term. More than once, Jody had to touch the woman’s hand clutching the mic’s base, asking for permission to speak. Also more than once, she had to tap more insistently a second time. Other than the chuckles it drew from the audience, the lackluster response in the room worried Jody. Would anyone care enough to show at her signing the following day? Jake, leaning against the back wall with his arms folded across his chest, had no trouble keeping attendees’ attention. Every woman in the room did a double-take when they glanced back. The second look lasted much longer, running over his tall body like a CAT scan. Relief flooded her when the panel ended. The audience shuffled toward the exit, slowing to better examine Jake. Jody hated to resort to gimmicks, but if posing Jake at her table attracted readers, she’d do it. Revenge was sweet when Stephenie made a beeline for Jake, and he gave her only a casual glance despite her tittering laughs. He kept his brown eyes focused on Jody’s approach, his grin giving way to a smile. “You were great,” he said. “No wonder your books are bestsellers.” Why hearing praise from this guy made her blush, she couldn’t guess. But his compliment went straight to her heart. Feeling shy as a schoolgirl, she smiled. Offering his arm, he asked, “Shall we? You should freshen up before dinner.” To Stephenie, he said, “She’s the keynote speaker, you know.” “Yes,” came Stephenie’s deadpan reply. “I know.” 10
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As he led Jody down the hall, he seemed to pay little attention to the gawkers. Like a princess, Jody held her head high. The carpet beneath her feet might have been a flying one, the moment felt that magical. “Did you check in yet?” Glancing away, he tensed. “No.” “You should, before all the rooms are taken.” A breath of a laugh accompanied a thin smile. “That’s the problem, love. No rooms left.” “Oh no—there isn’t another hotel for miles.” “No worries, I’ll get by. I always do. Let’s concentrate on you.” Cheerful optimism in the face of doom was Jake Emerson’s hallmark trait. Like his legendary libido. Sure, he’d have no trouble finding a room somewhere, she bet. Still, she should help him. He was her responsibility, wasn’t he? Glancing at her watch, she calculated. There might be time, if they hurried. Steering him toward the concierge, she leaned against the counter. “Any place in town we can rent a suit?” Hopefully a cheap one. Jake winced. “A monkey suit?” “Tonight’s dinner is semi-formal. If you’re going to be my guest, you need to dress the part.” “Only for you, love. I’ll grab the taxi outside.” After the concierge handed her the address of the rental shop, she hastened after him. For once, time seemed to be on her side. Leaning against the cab, he stepped aside to open the door. “Your chariot awaits.” And her hero, she stopped herself from adding. That remained to be seen. **** Pacing the carpeted floor of the men’s shop, Jody muttered to herself, “Hurry up. I need more primping than you.” 11
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Jake stepped from the dressing stall, tugging at his sleeve. “I don’t know. Does it work?” Work? Did he really not notice how the jacket accented his broad shoulders? Hugged his trim waist? It might’ve been tailored especially for him. The black knit shirt complemented the charcoal suit perfectly. He’d made heads turn in casual dress, but in this, he’d stop women in their stiletto tracks. Jody practically drooled. “You look—” Amazing. Mouth-watering. Like a GQ model. A Greek god. “Really nice.” No point feeding his ego, though honestly, he hadn’t exhibited one despite his I Won The Gene Pool Lottery handsomeness. Same as Jake. She stifled a sardonic huff. “Can we wrap this up? Time’s getting tight. It takes me awhile to look half decent.” Already heading back to change, he paused to say, “I find that hard to believe.” His devilish grin made her wonder. Like her mother always said, if something seems too good to be true, it is. The guy was an excellent actor, though. “Keep reminding yourself,” she whispered, heading to the cashier. During the ride back to the hotel, she snuck glances at him. He met each inspection with an easy grin. When the taxi stopped outside the hotel, he held the door open. Who did that these days? Jake Emerson. But he’s a fictional character. She shouldn’t risk it, but couldn’t help herself. “Would you like to rest in my room while I change? You must be tired after traveling.” From where? She had no idea how far he’d trekked to her condo. “I’m a born traveler. But you’re sweet to offer. If you don’t mind, I’d love to hang out in your room.” He leaned against the wall while she slid the key card into the reader. “Unless you’d rather I wait in 12
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the bar.” Goodness, no. The last thing she needed was for her poster boy to show up inebriated. “Come on in. I’ll call the events coordinator and let her know there’s an extra for dinner.” Tossing her purse on the king-sized bed, she wouldn’t admit to being one of the worst-ever travelers. At least the time zone hadn’t changed, that always threw her body clock off. Lifting the hotel phone, she glanced back. “Make yourself at home.” Her words trailed away, the thought lost. Frisky as a five-year-old, Jake jumped on the bed, landing perfectly in the center, wielding the remote like a weapon. The TV clicked on in synch with his touchdown as if choreographed. He relaxed against the pillows. “Ahh.” How could his hair still be perfect? His white cotton shirt not show a wrinkle? His jeans… Her gaze locked on those well-fitting jeans, contoured to his muscled thighs. Her grip on the receiver relaxed, but the faraway voice prompted her to speak. Arranging Jake’s dinner, she turned. You don’t know this guy. Don’t lose your head. This weekend, she would have to be very careful, or she most definitely could lose more than her head. “When you finish changing, knock on the door so I’ll know it’s safe to come out.” “Right.” Trying not to imagine him stripping, she grabbed her gown and stepped into the spacious bathroom. His knock came after about five minutes. She took extra care in dressing. The fact she was keynote speaker hardly registered. Picturing his reaction to her occupied all her thoughts. When she emerged from the bathroom, her nerves tingled in anticipation. At thirty-four, her body suffered writer’s fatigue from lack of exercise, but in this 13
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little black dress, accessorized with her dichroic glass necklace and bracelet, she might still turn a few heads. Holding up her hands, she asked, “Well? Do I look all right?” Perched on the end of the bed, Jake widened his eyes and his jaw literally fell open. “I could think of a few more descriptive adjectives.” Despite her resolve, she bubbled with happiness. “Really?” It had been too long since a guy lavished such appreciation on her. Come to think of it, no guy had ever been so attentive. He’s on the payroll. Her bubble popped, she reached for her handbag. Damn. A dress purse—she knew she’d forgotten something. Too late now. Instantly at her side, he asked tenderly, “Are you okay?” Sure; adapting had become a way of life. “I don’t want to be late for my own party. Are you ready?” His white teeth flashed in a smile. “I was born ready.” Oh boy. Change the subject. Leading him to the elevator, she forced a casual tone. “So did they send you instructions about which events to attend?” “Who?” “Mimi. Or whoever sent you.” Staring at the dropping numbers, his expression was blank. “Never met her.” The downward whoosh of the elevator matched Jody’s emptying reserve of questions. Directness might work better. “Fine. But who sent you?” “No one. You needed me, so I’m here.” The elevator’s ding signaled the ground floor. Jody had gotten nowhere. Mimi probably intended it as a test, to see how savvy an author she was. She’d show Mimi savvy, all right. Cogs clunked in her brain as ideas whirred to life, more than she’d had in weeks. “Tomorrow’s breakfast calls for 14
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something special to wake the crowd up.” Which adventure could she pilfer scenes from to pique the crowd’s interest? In her first novel, Jake posed as a waiter to spy on a suspect. With this guy waiting on them, Jody bet the attendees would salivate for more than the fruit plate. **** At dinner, Jake proved a liability. The women couldn’t focus on Jody’s speech with him in the room. Hell, Jody couldn’t focus on her speech. Not with him grinning at her through it. Her fifteen-minute talk lasted twenty because she lost her place a few times. Not her best presentation. But no one noticed anyway. Her spirits lifted when she took her seat beside him and attendees surrounded their table. Lifting a hand, she said, “The signing’s tomorrow.” She stopped herself from apologizing. They hadn’t come to see her. All eyes were on Jake. His expression registered sympathy. “Sorry ladies, but Ms. Feather can’t accommodate you right now.” Waving away their arguments, he flashed a megawatt smile. “We’ll be happy to speak to each and every one of you at tomorrow’s signing.” Clamoring to be heard, calls of “What time again?” and “Looking forward to it!” accompanied the mob’s dispersal. “Very nice,” Jody murmured, leaning closer. “I’ll be sure to tell Mimi to throw in a bonus.” His scent tantalized her, desert breeze and a hint of forest. “Not necessary, whoever this Mimi is. You deserve the spotlight, and I’m going to make sure you get it.” With a wink, he sipped his water, then held up his glass to the waitress who appeared. “May I have a beer?” Her breathy “yes” made Jody sigh. This weekend might be memorable for all the wrong reasons. 15
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Chapter Three Elaine Johnson, the hotel events coordinator, leaned beside Jody’s chair. “What a brilliant idea. Business has never been so brisk at breakfast.” “He’s a natural.” A natural what, Jody had no clue. Even wearing a waiter’s uniform, Jake’s stunning appearance drew every woman’s attention. Oh yes, he woke them up with a greater jolt than the strongest coffee, which he wielded with panache. One woman joked she wanted a Cup o’Jake, not a Cup o’Joe. His hearty chuckle and million dollar smile made every patron forget her breakfast muffin. His buns obviously interested them more. The women only wanting him to return to their tables, many a special order went untouched. A few waved pads and pens at him, obviously wanting an autograph. Jody bristled. His autograph, not hers? He aimed his easy smile at her and pointed, deflecting their requests. Amazing. Afterward, Jody gathered her briefcase. “What are you going to do while I’m judging entries?” He arched a brow. “You’re a judge?” “In the conference contest, yes.” Hadn’t anyone filled him in? “What do you need me to do?” “Nothing until this afternoon’s signing. You’re welcome to join me at lunch if you like.” He brightened. “All right. Noon then?” “Yes. Do you need the room key?” Her better judgment had flown the coop last night, when she’d 16
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allowed him to sleep in her room. How could she turn him away? His snores from the sleeper sofa kept her awake half the night. That and imagining herself curled next to him. “Thanks. I’ll hit the gym, maybe the pool, and then see you at lunch.” With a wink, he strode off then walked backward. “Oh—which room?” Another woman answered for her. Jody would have to curb her tongue. And her hands. Her fingers itched to trace his sculpted abs. So did everyone else’s. The thought propelled her down the hallway to her judging gig. The sight of Brad at one of the long tables, entries fanned in front of him, arrested her. Damn. The one unforeseeable snag in the weekend had to be him. She’d hoped never to see his adorable mug again. Unless she could land a fist in it. He deserved to suffer for the pain he put her through. Steeling herself, she strutted toward the table that bore her name card. At least she wouldn’t have to sit beside him. She’d have preferred a wall between them, but five other judges would suffice. Sleep deprivation would not get the better of her. She’d concentrate on the task at hand, and then hightail it out of there. Forty-five minutes later, she mistakenly glanced over. Probably because he was staring at her. She eased back in her seat and out of his line of view. Jerk. It would take more than sad puppy dog eyes for her to forgive him. And damn her for letting him get to her. In fifteen minutes, she’d finished. She stood, gathered her papers, shouldered her messenger bag and then strode outside, tossing her hair for good measure. To no avail, apparently. Brad waited in the hallway. After a moment’s hesitation she continued, giving him a wide berth. 17
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He closed the gap and stood in front of her. “I didn’t get a chance to say hello earlier.” “No.” She hadn’t let him. “Hello.” “Sorry, I have to go.” Why am I apologizing? One of her worst habits. Always saying sorry when she had nothing to be sorry for. Sidestepping him proved useless again. He matched her step. “Come on, Jody. Can’t you treat me nicer than that?” His smooth move caught the attention of a few passers-by. She couldn’t afford a diva reputation. Someone might whip out a cell, video their tête-àtête, and upload it to YouTube for all the world to laugh. Not the kind of publicity she sought. Forcing a pleasant tone, she said, “Nicer than you treated me when I caught you in bed with your assistant?” How trite. He couldn’t have cheated with someone less obvious? More insistently, she added, “Now excuse me.” His eyes shifted left and right, as if considering. With a shrug, he stepped aside. Her wobbly knees carried her to the elevator. Suppressing hot tears, she pressed the button, and then spotted the exit. Climbing the stairs would alleviate her tension. At the fifth floor, she petered out. Stopping to catch her breath, and her dignity, she halted outside the hallway entrance. Why couldn’t Brad have treated her the way she yearned for, the way Jake treated her? Careful, Jody. Jake’s playing a part. Which explained his perfect manners and only-for-you smile. The reality check bolstered her enough to get to her room. Digging out the extra key card, she pushed open the door. Jake lay splayed on the bed, sound asleep. So innocent. So gorgeous. 18
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Oh, she needed more coffee. Or some Long Island Iced Tea, perfectly brewed with all its alcoholic impersonation of the summer drink. Slipping into the bathroom, she ran her fingers under cold water and dampened her hot neck. “I need to get through this weekend without completely embarrassing myself.” Emerging, she relaxed at seeing Jake awake, elbows propped behind him, legs splayed over the edge of the made bed. A photo op if ever she saw one. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Raking a hand through his tousled hair, he yawned. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Don’t apologize.” “Right.” He might have read her mind from earlier. No more apologies. “Are you hungry?” “Starving. You?” He sidled toward her, his hips shifting. So sexy, it made her forget about eating. “I am, actually.” But his attention satisfied her craving. Or whetted her appetite for more. “Let’s go.” Before she did something stupid, like fall into bed with her own character. Maybe Mimi had made that part of the deal. It would explain a lot. Why her agent suddenly had gone MIA. A dozen times, Jody had dialed. She’d given up leaving messages. Maybe some things were better off unanswered. For now. **** Women crammed the restaurant, way more than had signed up. Elaine stopped at Jody’s table. “It’s incredible. We’re turning away last-minute registrations. They’re desperate to get in.” To see Jake, no doubt. “That’s great.” A few waved their empty coffee cups in the air with leering smiles. His good-natured grin never wavered, but he stopped looking around the room. “What time’s your 19
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signing?” “Two. It’ll give me time to set up.” “Us,” he stressed. “What?” “It’ll give us time to set up.” Her neck warmed in a blush. The waitress saved her from stammering by setting chocolate cake by her plate. Surprisingly, it held no appeal. Watching Jake eat his slice sated her. He talked as though they were a couple. Reminding herself that after this weekend she’d never see him again, she stiffened. “I’ll be back in a minute.” Before he could ask, she bolted. She wouldn’t know how to answer if he asked what was wrong. Her feet carried her out the front door and along the sidewalk. Without knowing where she was headed, she walked down a side street. A storefront window jerked her to a halt. “Incredible.” A wide-brimmed tan hat and a worn leather bull whip. In her last novel, Jake used those same items. Perfect props for the signing. They’d remind her what she had trouble remembering: Jake, too, was a prop. In minutes, she hurried back to the hotel banquet room. Jake stood near Elaine, who batted her lashes at him. He broke away as soon as he saw her. “Where have you been?” When he moved, she saw it. The life-sized cardboard cutout figure of her hero. “Where did this come from?” Moving closer, she inspected it. The high resolution photo didn’t clearly show his face, but beneath the hat’s brim, his features matched the guy beside her. Hugging her portfolio to her chest, Elaine stepped beside her. “Your publisher sent it. It’s gorgeous.” 20
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“Incredible.” Jody glanced at Jake. The eerie likeness sent a shiver through her. “You must get a wonderful reaction at signings.” “I’ve never used one before.” Hadn’t they gone overboard, with a cardboard cutout and an actor? Yet it also matched the props she’d purchased. With a chuckle, she reached up to set the hat atop his head, and looped the bullwhip around his shoulder. “You’re Jake Emerson.” “I know.” Ignoring her huff of frustration, he straightened the hat. “Where’d you find these?” “A little shop.” She wished now she hadn’t. Wearing those made Jake Emerson too real. “I better set up.” “I’ve already done it.” “No, I have to set up my area.” Certain items had to be placed just so, or it threw her off. Call it booksigning feng shui. Or call her anal. “I think you’ll find everything the way you like it.” Her arguments trailed away as she inspected the table. A display of the latest cover and reviews to her right with a sample book. To the left, neat stacks of each in the series. Bookmarks in the center. Three good pens and a bottle of water. “Exactly how I set up,” she said in wonder. In a matter-of-fact tone, he said, “Right. Where would you like me?” A trick question? Most women probably didn’t hesitate to answer: in my bed. “I hadn’t planned for you.” The understatement of the year. “How about to the side of the table? Out of your way?” With a wan smile, she nodded. “Wherever you’d like.” A glance at her watch revealed she had a few minutes to freshen up. “I’ll be right back.” “Don’t get lost. I need you.” Her stomach lurched. How she longed to hear 21
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those words from a man. Not under these circumstances. A crowd waited outside the double doors. Excitement gave way to disappointment when several asked, “Is Jake inside?” Answering only, “Excuse me,” she hurried down the hall. By the time she returned, the mass seemed to have doubled, and she had difficulty breaking through. Luckily Elaine guarded the entrance and gave her time to get to the table. At a crack in the door, a stampede of women rushed through. Straight for Jake. “What a nuthouse.” She might well have stayed home. Propping her chin in her palm, she twirled a pen through the fingers of her other hand. Bobbing above the throng, Jake held up his hands. “One at a time. And only after you’ve purchased a book and had it signed by Ms. Feather.” The mob stilled and turned in unison. Rushing to the table, all grabbed books. Speechless, Jody could only watch the nightmarish scene. The snap of a whip drew everyone’s attention. Jake grinned. “Form an orderly line, please.” Astonishingly, they did. Every attendee bought a book and waited for Jody to sign it before standing in line for a photo with Jake. Jody ran out of books, and Elaine had to call two bookstores in town for fresh supplies. The signing lasted for hours. Rather than exhausting her, it exhilarated Jody. “I’ve never sold so many books in one day. I owe it all to you.” She wouldn’t begrudge him the women’s fawning. His charm tempted her to do the same. “No, love. They came for you.” “Only because I created you.” His intense gaze made her turn away. “The best news is I don’t have to schlep the remains home.” A first. “Oh no, I forgot 22
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my camera.” Of all the day’s photos, she hadn’t posed for one with Jake. A grin came as his only answer. “Shall we get this stuff packed up? You need to get ready for dinner.” Repressing the urge to ask yet again who he really was, she agreed, instead reveling in the shared task. Sometimes fiction rivaled reality.
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Chapter Four Dinner proved a repeat of lunch. And breakfast. No one could get enough of Jake. Jody might as well have stayed home and sent him in her stead. She wouldn’t kid herself. Today wouldn’t have been nearly the success without him. Sitting at the table, he regaled them with tales of adventure. Her tales. Having Brad at the conference only worsened her mood. Like everyone else, he kept his gaze riveted to her table. Instead of Jake, Brad stared at her. A woman sat beside him, but not the woman he’d left Jody for. No matter. It only proved his unreliability. Refusing dessert, she whisked up her handbag. “Be right back.” The ladies room would provide some solace. Touching her wrist, Jake gazed up. “Don’t be long. I hear there’s dancing.” “I’m sure you won’t be lonely.” His hurt sounded genuine. “I’m always lonely without you.” Her heart scudded to a stop. Why did he have to say such things? Rather than pleasing her, now it seemed cruel. Mocking, almost. The chatter in the rest room centered around Jake. No escape, even here. Emerging from the stall, Jody washed her hands, and a gaggle surrounded her. “How did you find such a perfect man?” Retouching her lipstick, Jody said, “I made him up. He doesn’t exist.” 24
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“He’s Jake in the flesh,” one said. “I’d like to see him in the flesh,” another said, eliciting gasps and titters. Jody had never been much for small talk. “See you on the dance floor.” “Will we be able to dance with him?” one called after her. “Sure.” Have at him. It would only reinforce her notion that no guy could maintain such a false front for long. He’d reveal himself to be a cad eventually. The strains of a piano echoed down the hallway. Entering the banquet room, she listened to the man singing, but couldn’t see him because of the crowd. “Oh, you’re kidding.” Bodies shifted, showing Jake at the keyboard, crooning It Had to Be You. Spying her, he flashed a smile. She needed a drink. Threading her way through the tables, she slowed at the sight of Brad. When he held up an alcoholic offering, she continued her approach. “You look like you could use this.” Something a little stiffer would’ve worked better, but wine would suffice. Her patience had waned. “What do you want, Brad?” He leaned closer. “I hoped we could catch up.” “Hm, tempting. But do I really want to hear how amazing your new girlfriend is? I don’t think so.” She tilted the glass to her lips. “She’s not—” “Jody.” Jake glared at Brad. When had the music stopped? “All done serenading your bevy of beauties?” Yes, the old Jody had returned. “I only filled in time waiting for you.” Brad winced. “How sweet. The guy almost convinced me with his flattering attention and sappy sincerity.” Whirling to face her ex, Jody snapped, “You 25
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should try it sometime.” To Jake, she said, “You are worth every penny.” A laugh burst from Brad. “So he’s an employee? Not here as a…friend?” He sounded hopeful. What the hell, did he think she’d fall back in his arms for a weekend, then kiss his cheek when he left to go back to her? Jake’s fingers inched around her waist. “Give me a chance to convince her.” Maybe the wine had already kicked in, but it wouldn’t take much. The guy’s natural charm might be switched onto her for this gig, but damn, she could let herself forget he was fictional for a day or two, at the very least. She almost felt a pinprick of guilt, leaving Brad alone holding two glasses of wine, and a pathetic expression. Almost, but not quite. Not when Jake’s embrace felt so fantastic, sweeping her across the floor. In the center of the room, cleared for dancing, he twirled her against his chest. “You’re not still pining for that loser, are you?” Heat flashed through her. “Who told you?” Oh, she’d have some harsh words for Mimi when she returned home. She’d gone too far. “Babe, you’re much too awesome for him.” Awesome? When had any guy applied that description to her? Never. “I appreciate your concern, but let’s keep this on a professional level, shall we?” It killed her to say it, and certainly didn’t reflect her thoughts. Professional wouldn’t describe them at all. His lopsided smile endeared him to her all the more. “It’s not concern, love. And it’s never been on a professional level, so I hope we don’t start now. Dance?” Hands on her waist, he glided in perfect time to the sultry jazz piece played by the pianist. 26
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The movement of his hips erased the question forming in her mind: if it’s not concern, then what? “It’s a little soon—” She stopped herself from saying, in our relationship. “To be talking like that, don’t you think? We only met yesterday.” Saying it aloud reiterated the truth of it, though she felt like she’d known him all her life. His deep-throated chuckle unnerved her, prompting her to say, “I’m sure Mimi instructed you to act familiar, but don’t get carried away.” He threw his head back in a hearty laugh, one of genuine pleasure. Talk about familiar. He had Jake down to a tee. “You’re very good, I’ll give you that.” She’d love to know how good. Casually, he said, “Thank you. But any compliment I share with you.” “Why?” “You made me what I am.” Arguing would prove useless. Maybe the guy had fallen on hard times and needed this gig so badly he’d immersed himself completely in Jake’s world. Even she couldn’t have crafted his strong jaw line, so perfect it made her want to trace its length behind his ear and run her fingers through his hair. As the song ended, he dipped her slowly back. Her gaze met an upside down Brad’s. “May I cut in?” Brad asked. Glancing from him to her, Jake eased her upward. His hand never left her back. Too late. She’d already cut Brad out of her life. “Actually, I need another drink.” “Great idea.” Jake glared at Brad. “Let’s go.” Splaying her hand against his chest, her thoughts scattered. “Why don’t you mingle a bit? I need to make a call.” Outside. Fresh air would do her good. Help clear her head to sort reality from fantasy. The latter was beginning to seem too much 27
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like the former. A nerve pulsed in his jaw as he stared menacingly at Brad. “All right. If you need me, I’m right here.” “Yes.” It would be hard to miss him, with cougars and kittens already readying to pounce the moment she strolled off. All through the lobby, she thought she heard Jake’s name mentioned. After she whooshed through the revolving doors, the balmy evening air outside washed over her. Mimi still didn’t pick up her cell. The full moon loomed low over the parking lot, a benevolent presence balancing her frustration. Alone in a romantic setting. Not a novel experience for her. Melancholy settled over her as she stood face to face with the moon in a showdown. “I’m tired of being alone.” Behind the glass walls of the hotel, people moved, smiling. Why stay out here? She grew tired of missing out on the party. Determined to have fun if it killed her, she hurried inside. At the bar, leaning against the counter, stood Brad, looking for all the world like he’d been waiting just for her. Yeah, right. As if he’d ever waited for her. Maybe waited for her to leave so he could jump into the arms of…what was her name? Oh, Lynette. What kind of a name was Lynette anyway? She wasn’t developed enough to be a full-fledged Lynn? Inferior, she remained a Lynette for eternity. Brad zeroed in. “Before your cardboard-cutoutcome-to-life returns, I’d like to speak to you.” “My what?” “The guy. Your hero.” A laugh bubbled up. Her hero. She had to admit, she’d like him to be. “I hardly think I should talk to you.” “Why not?” He sounded genuinely hurt. 28
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“Oh, please. You can crush a girl’s soul, but don’t come back to explain why it was for everyone’s good—especially yours.” “I’m not here to explain.” Now that was more like the Brad she knew. “What then, a job reference?” Oh, she’d love to—how wonderful Brad was, on paper. In reality, he stacked up far lower than the measurement of a single sheet of paper. “No, Jody. I need to tell you…” His shoulders hunched, eyes glazed, wide like a five-year-old. She knew that look. “Oh, no. Damn you,” she hissed. Leave it to Brad to home in on her at her most vulnerable. In a choked voice, Brad said, “I made a mistake. I know that now.” “Yes, you did. Two, in fact.” “Two?” Confusion erased his innocence. “Dumping me, and coming here.” Ruining the first wonderful weekend she’d had in too long. The line stacked up behind them, either wanting drinks or a front-row view. Turning, she asked the bartender, “Margarita please?” Behind her, Brad whined, “Jody, I miss you.” The bartender’s apologetic gaze flicked to Brad. “We don’t have margaritas, ma’am.” Brad pleaded, “Give me a chance.” Keeping her focus on the bartender, she asked, “What do you have?” Brad offered, “I have a car outside, waiting.” Right, like the Springsteen song. He’d actually sung it to her: that she was no beauty, but hey, it was all right. Clenching her jaw, she squared her shoulders. “White wine.” “Come on, sweet pea,” Brad moaned. Slowly, she turned, straightening her spine. “If 29
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you ever call me sweet pea again, the bartender will serve your nuts as a snack.” Women surrounding them whooped, clapping, forcing Brad to retreat. Shouts filled the air: “You go girl!” “Tell him, sistah!” “Yeah Jody” “Now she’s a kickass heroine!” Kickass? Maybe. Heroine? Hardly. Still, it boosted her enough to manage a smile, one which came naturally at seeing Jake. He stood front and center, cheering her on, fist pumping. “That’s my girl.” Her smile fell to one side. His girl? After tipping the bartender, she mustered enough flair and dignity to bow and excuse herself. Her legs carried her to the nearest table before the tremble in her knees gave way. She plopped to the seat. Jake’s knee brushed her leg as he sat beside her. “Too funny.” An exaggerated laugh-half whimper burst out. “You think? I’m glad my sorry love life amuses you.” “What are you talking about? You ruled.” “What are you, twelve?” She definitely had to write Jake more mature, if this guy thought he embodied the soul of the character. He rubbed her back. “Hey, you crushed the guy. And empowered all these women.” “It didn’t feel empowering to me.” The cheers did bolster her, but if she could talk him into a full-body massage, she’d feel much better. He leaned close. “Because you have too much heart.” “Right.” Two women approaching struggled against one another. “Jake, will you dance with me?” one asked, and the other countered, “No, me.” “Sorry ladies. I’ve reserved tonight’s dances for someone special.” 30
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Great. So he hooked up with someone else while she was outside trying to get hold of Mimi? Or went to the rest room? Leave it to Jake to move so fast. Damned if she would sit and watch their antics. “Have fun.” Standing, she gulped down her drink and gathered her handbag. Staring up at her, he said, “I can’t if you leave.” “You said you were dancing with someone special. Where is she?” Probably some babe barely out of school. His voice soft, he said, “I’m looking at her.” Her tension melted. She held back an incredulous giggle. “How much is Mimi paying you? Because whatever it is, it’s not nearly enough.” Standing, he slid his hand into hers, kissed it, then guided her to the dance floor. “Don’t you know how amazing you are?” In what way? “Oh sure, I amaze myself all the time.” Never more than now, letting his expert touch spin her, slide her across the Pergo like she’d trained months for Dancing With the Stars. But tonight, Jake was the star, not her. He made everything more exciting. “Jake—or whoever you are…” He silenced her protest by holding a finger to her parted lips. “Shh. Stop over thinking everything. Just let go. Set yourself free, Jody.” “Here? Are you crazy?” “Why not here? Do you expect your readers to find you an inspiration if you can’t inspire yourself? You never know your limits…” Rolling her eyes, she finished the sentence. “Until you test them.” Great. Hurling her own words back to taunt her. The slow song segued into a disco beat. Jake whooped, his shoulders and arms gyrating like train wheels. His mood proved infectious. All those dancing nearby followed suit. 31
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“Oh what the hell.” She let loose, matching his every move and then some. A glance at the sidelines revealed Brad still watching. Only he didn’t clap and cheer. They ended with Jody’s knee draped over Jake’s wrist, one arm triumphantly raised, the other looped around his neck—where every other woman in the room wished she were. Jody felt like she rode a helium bubble toward the door. It held as she floated near Brad, until he sneered, “You’re pathetic. Pretending a relationship with your own character. Makes sense though. You’re both fakes.” The fantasy dissolved. Jody’s lip quivered. “Good night,” she called to Jake, her nostrils burning from holding back tears. She ran to the elevator, cursing the carnival atmosphere. “Come on, come on.” She punched the button, barging inside the instant the doors open, holding the Close Door button. Jake negotiated past clutching throngs of females, calling her name. The moment he broke free, the doors slid shut. Safely in her room, Jody locked the door, listening to the noises in the hallway, sure she’d hear heavy footsteps, a soft knock and an even softer voice call her name. After several minutes, she stepped back. “Fine. It only proves he’s no Jake Emerson. Just another fake, like Brad said.” Like Brad himself. Oh this was too confusing. A nice long soak in the tub—that’s what she needed. Drawing the bath, she remembered she hadn’t eaten. In all the excitement, her appetite waned in favor of a different sort of hunger. The hunger to feel the caresses she described in such loving detail. Slipping into her nightie, she called room 32
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service. So what if no one else saw her? She paid an outrageous price for it and needed to feel beautiful, if only to the delivery person. When the knock finally came, she threw on the matching silky robe, tied the belt, then untied it. She’d give the kid an eyeful. His wowed expression would have to get her through the night. One final primp and pushup, she flung open the door. “Come in.” Gulping hard, she wished she could swallow the words. Jake leaned against the jamb, her awaited tray in hand. “I’d love to.” “What are you doing?” Waiting for his response, she could hardly breathe. “I’ve been out here, hoping you’d call for room service. The kid handed it over when I showed him the key card.” Like in Bangkok Blues, her third novel. “You’ve been out here the whole time?” “Of course, love. I knew you were upset. I wanted to give you time to cool your jets, hoping…” He shrugged. “You could heat them again?” She knew. She wrote the line. The word game grew tiresome. His wry smile turned serious. “I wanted to make sure you were all right.” “Me? Don’t be silly.” “Are you?” “Never been better.” Sure. And Jake Emerson was alive and breathing, standing in front of her, lusting after her—caring about her—not someone paid to pretend. Because she wrote so accurately about love, she no longer experienced it first hand. Her nostrils burned with unshed tears. The slightest narrowing of his eyes alerted her to his complete focus. When she turned, he deftly glided next to her, set the tray on the table. His arm slid around her waist smoothly as if 33
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he’d practiced the move. “Isn’t it customary to ask the other person how he’s doing? Because I could use a hug, if you must know.” A bitter laugh escaped. “And none of the drooling masses of females downstairs would accommodate you?” What a crock. He squared off in front of her, his strong hands running down her back. “I didn’t ask them. I’m asking you.” “Oh, you’re almost too good to be true.” Tensing, she pulled away. “Because you are.” What the hell was she falling into? “Jody, love.” He eased closer. She gulped hard. “I’m not—” A hard rap at the door interrupted. Smoothing her hair, she stepped stiffly back. “Sorry.” “Don’t answer it,” he pleaded, fists balled. “Why shouldn’t I?” “You know it’s him.” “Him?” Who the hell did he mean? Steeling herself, she wrenched open the door. Brad lunged forward. “Jody.” He halted when his gaze flicked behind her to Jake. “What’s he doing here?” His gaze crawled over her, not unappreciatively, but with definite disapproval. “Brad? Why are you here?” This night proved to be a real comedy. Indignation caused his voice to raise a notch. “I hoped we could talk.” Behind her, Jake said, “Don’t let me stop you.” Pinpricks of alarm tickled her neck when Brad strode past her. Something wasn’t right. In fact, it was certainly wrong. It smacked of a staged scene. Rehearsed. The whole day had been surreal. Holding her thumb and index finger between her lips, she blew a piercing whistle. 34
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Both men turned toward her, surprised. Widening her stance, she set her hands on her hips. “I don’t know what’s going on, but something stinks.” They pointed at one another. “Him.” She pointed at the exit. “Get out.” Jake smirked. “Better leave quietly.” Stifling an explosion, she said, “Both of you.” Stepping toward her, Jake said, “You can’t mean that.” “Oh, but I do.” If luck turned in her favor, she’d find the hidden microphones or cameras or whatever before it hit YouTube. “Whatever games you two are playing, I’m out of it. Find some other patsy.” “Patsy?” Jake frowned. “Is that a pen name?” Had they schemed to cause her head to explode? It threatened to. Words, the tools she employed every day to cajole, entice, thrill and engage, failed her. Stamping her foot, she huffed. “Get out.” Succinctness had its place. Like chastised schoolboys, they slunk toward the hallway. Brad turned the corner. Jake grasped the jamb. “Jody, can we please—” She hurled the door shut. A yowl echoed through the hall. It took all her reserve not to run to him, kiss his fingers. Tell him how sorry she was. No. No more apologies. Her character’s reflexes were cat-quick. He was no Jake. Securing the lock and chain, she sighed in relief. This weekend qualified as the longest ever. And she still had another day to get through.
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Chapter Five The ringing phone signaled morning. Her wakeup call. If only such a thing existed in life: Hello? Get yourself in gear! She would’ve availed herself of that service many times. Guilt pricked at her while she readied for breakfast. Where had Jake slept? Don’t kid yourself, he probably grew tired of the whole scene and left. She couldn’t wait to leave either. A reading after lunch would end her official duties. After returning her few belongings to her luggage, her gaze swept the room. Everywhere, Jake’s image came to vivid life. Except downstairs in the hotel. Jody purposefully held back, pretending to check cell messages in the lobby, studying the program in the hallways. No Jake. Had he seriously left? Without saying goodbye? You did kick him out. Because he and Brad acted like middle-schoolers. Why did she attract only immature men? Did she emit some sort of signal drawing underdeveloped males with raging hormones to her side to beat their chests in a show of Neanderthal dominance? The front desk will know. Hurrying over, she forced a casual tone. “Can you tell me if the gentleman returned the other key for room 323?” The pretty girl didn’t need to check the computer. “Jake? Yes, he left it here last night.” “Thanks.” As she slunk away, anger fought with other emotions. To hell with him, then. From now on, she’d do 36
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the rejecting. No more playing with little boys. She wanted a real man. Jake didn’t fit the bill either way. Why did that thought sadden her most? **** The chicken Caesar salad at lunch held no appeal. Yesterday, Jody had imagined lunching with Jake beside her, making wisecracks. Making her laugh. Today, everything from the lettuce on her plate to the conference attendees appeared wilted. Everyone, it seemed, missed Jake. Enough had asked about his whereabouts she’d begun making up stories. His mother had been rushed to the hospital. His beloved dog had been hit by a car. Anything to spare her the embarrassment of the truth: he couldn’t care less about her. Since she’d met him, she’d hardly cared about food. Maybe when she returned home, she should order one of those incredible workout machines everyone said changed their lives. No way she’d rely on a gadget to change her life for her. At least meeting Jake had one good effect. Besides having fun for the first time in who knew how long, she’d taken a long look at herself. And her life. Too many others controlled it instead of her. Now she wanted to take back the reins. Or the rudder. Or whatever the hell steered her course through the murky future. Instead of writing about adventures, she wanted to live one. Mimi had discouraged her from accepting a position teaching writing workshops in Belize—a dream destination. I’m going to do it, at least once, to see if I like it. A jungle might be what she needed to jumpstart her stagnant imagination. Realizing she’d left her reading pages in her luggage, she hurried over to Elaine. “We’d better hurry,” the event planner said. 37
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“Attendees are notable for leaving before the end of lunch. You’re up last.” Right. And they’d already heard her, and bought her books. Why hang around while she read? Glancing at the tables where servers set dessert, she tensed. “I’ll only be a minute.” Following Elaine to the locked office where her bags waited, she crouched to rifle through them. Her fingers found only air within the inside pocket supposed to hold her pages. “No.” Elaine’s tone held a caustic edge. “Everything all right?” After shooting her a tense smile, Jody continued searching. “I’m sure it’s in here.” No it’s not! Now what? All the copies of her books had sold. “I must have left it in the room.” With a huff, Elaine checked her wristwatch. “The room’s surely been cleaned by now.” What a disaster. Unless…“You don’t, by chance, have one of my books on hand, do you?” The events planner’s expression screamed pleeeease. Not an adventure romance reader, apparently. Slipping away when someone else captured the woman’s attention wouldn’t go over well with her publisher. Wringing her hands, Jody stepped into the hallway. “Might any of your staff have a book?” Clucking her tongue, Elaine said, “Not with them, certainly.” A man nearby cleared his throat. Something about it seemed so familiar. Whirling, Jody knew before she saw him. Jake, leaning against the wall. She wanted to laugh. And cry. And wring his neck. “I thought you’d left.” He shrugged. “Temporarily. I always come back.” Biting her lip, she didn’t even want to know 38
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what that meant. Brows knit, he straightened and studied her. “Something’s wrong.” “I lost the pages I was going to read.” She glanced at Elaine’s watch. “In five minutes.” His eyes narrowed. “Hm. I have an idea.” Thank goodness! “What is it?” “We’ll act out a scene instead.” “No.” “They don’t want to listen to you read, love. Not when they could be getting a jump on traffic.” He slid his hand in hers. “Come on.” “Where?” “To get my whip and hat, of course.” His gaze swept over her. “We’ll have to improvise your costume.” “Costume?” She liked this less every second. To Elaine, he called over his shoulder, “Stall them for a few minutes. Tell them Jake said it’ll be worth the wait.” Jody wished she’d meet someone worth her wait. She’d waited long enough. But right now, she had no time to even sigh, as Jake tugged her down the hall to the front desk. **** The most money she’d ever spent on a dress, and Jake ripped it. He slit the skirt up her thigh. His look of appreciation made it all worthwhile. Dresses came and went. She could get another dress any day, but an expression mixing admiration with lust proved rare. “You’re crazy,” she protested again. He smiled. “What better way to hook your readers? Show them one of your famous cliffhangers in 3D.” It sounded crazy enough to work. “I’m going to flub my lines.” Despite writing them. 39
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“No one will notice. They’ll be watching us, not following along in the book.” True. Well, true enough for him. If only she shared his confidence. “Let’s get this over with.” She still couldn’t imagine how they’d replicate a jet’s interior, but when she asked, Jake only smiled and said they’d improvise. Trust her readers. If they hadn’t all checked out by now. No sound came from the banquet room. When she peeked inside, the room was filled with a hushed expectancy from the still-full tables. Jake lagged behind, speaking to Elaine, who nodded, her earlier enthusiasm returned. “They waited,” Jody said in wonder. Stepping beside her, so close his breath rustled her hair. “Of course. They knew you’d deliver something spectacular.” Fear made her freeze. “Jake.” He must have sensed her panic. Caressing her arms, he crouched to eye level. “You always do, love. It’s why they’ll wait for you, and why they’ll keep buying your books. They know how wonderful you are.” If only she could believe that. The sound of scraping chairs made her turn. “What’s going on?” “Setting the stage.” Within minutes, the attendees moved their chairs into rows resembling a plane’s cabin. Anticipation made their eyes bright. Of course, they were all too happy to participate because Jake had asked them. Elaine strolled between the rows, doling out pretend snacks. The flight attendant in the scene, apparently. When Elaine pointed to a man in a cook uniform, Jody asked, “What’s that waiter doing?” “Filling in as Max Munroe. Our villain du jour.” 40
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Facing her, he asked excitedly, “Ready?” No! “Where are we starting from? I need a minute to look over the lines.” Jake had already slit open the door, raised his hand and lowered it. The lights dimmed. “Follow my lead.” Grabbing her hand, he led her inside to the two empty seats. Heart thumping, Jody said a silent prayer: Please don’t let this be a disaster. The house lights brightened again, revealing some of the kitchen staff leaving a cart to the side. Jake nodded to Elaine, who stood at the front of the rows of chairs. Taking her cue, she moved through the pretend aisle. Jake halted her when she approached. “How soon till we land?” When she stammered, he whispered, “Forty-five minutes.” She repeated the line in a theatrical tone. “Can you tell me,” Jake continued, “has anyone asked about the pilots?” Ah, now Jody had her place. Toward the end of book five, right before the plane landed. But how would Jake pull it off? “What do you mean, sir?” Elaine asked, clearly pleased she remembered the script on her own. Jake eased closer. “The man in 20B. Has he made any unusual inquiries?” In a stiff tone, Elaine responded, “I don’t know what you mean, sir.” “Never mind. But can you let me know if he says anything to raise suspicion? Anything at all.” Mechanically, Elaine nodded and continued past. Turning to Jody, he said loudly, “I’m going to the rest room. Maybe he’ll give something away when I walk past.” Jody grasped his arm. “No, Jake. What if he tries something?” 41
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“We can’t sit here and wait for him to make a move. We need to flush him out.” “But he might try and kill you.” “He might. But he’s in for a surprise if he does.” Standing, he sent a hard glance toward the waiter, with the restrained intensity the scene demanded. Something in Jody relaxed. If anyone could pull this off, he could. The scene played out very similar to the one running in her head while she’d written it. Well, except it had been an actual airplane, not a hotel dining room. But it surprised her how Elaine pushed the cart from the top of the aisle as Jake got out of his seat. As written, the villain reached for something, and Jake fell atop him. Gasps went up through the audience as they struggled, crashing into the cart. Jody rushed up as Jake sent the fake villain hurtling back down the aisle atop the cart to intercept the woman who’d been Max Murdoch’s accomplice, wielding a kitchen knife from the cart. Jody pretended to shoot mace, and the woman fell away, clutching her eyes and screaming. After Jake pretended to cuff the bad guy, he rushed to her. “You all right?” Straightening, Jody evoked the appropriate panache. “You’re lucky I’m here to watch your back.” When he grabbed her rear, she caught her breath. “Very lucky. I hope you’ll let me return the favor.” Silence filled the room. Fearful everyone had left sometime mid-scene, Jody stared into Jake’s dark eyes, so warm and inviting. He winked, a conspiratorial congratulations. “You’re amazing,” she whispered. So convincing, she had to remind herself it wasn’t real. A burst of applause accompanied whistles and cheers. Kitchen staff even lined the walls, clapping. 42
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With a low bow, Jake gestured toward Jody. How could he act so calm? Her heart beat wildly, wishing she could rewind the moment and feel his arms around her again. The crowd surged around them, snapping photos and chattering. They pushed between Jody and Jake, separating them. He glanced over frequently, and she had trouble focusing on the kudos and gushing praise from those surrounding her. People thrust pens and paper at her, demanding autographs. They pressed so close she grew dizzy. And could no longer see Jake. When the crowd finally thinned, relief flooded her at the sight of Jake, one leg draped across a table, speaking casually to a small group. He excused himself and strode toward her, grinning. “I hate to say I told you so.” “You were right. I’d never have believed we could pull it off. Your acting skills will really pay off someday.” If he could embody her own character better than anyone Jody might’ve selected, he must be a wonderful actor. With his physique and rugged handsomeness, he’d soon star in movies. “I’ll be watching you soon on DVD, alone with my popcorn at home.” The thought saddened her. He sighed deeply. “That’s your problem.” “What?” “You write amazing stories. Create worlds for others to lose themselves in. But you never cut yourself any slack.” “How so?” “Don’t you deserve the same happiness as your characters?” Flustered, she stammered, “Well, I suppose.” “Don’t you think you’re as good as your characters?” “That’s silly. They’re fictional.” His laugh had a sardonic edge. “They’re happier than you.” 43
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Bristling, she straightened her spine. “Stop it.” She found no humor in that. “Because you don’t love yourself as much as you love them.” Her argument was weak. “That’s insane.” Yet it made perfect sense. She’d ignored her own needs for months, possibly years, focusing on her career. “When did you last go out on a date?” “That’s totally irrelevant.” Besides, she couldn’t remember. Didn’t want to, because it had been with Brad, and she had no wish to think of him now. “It’s absolutely the point. Come on, we’re going out.” What an ego! What nerve. What a…great idea. “Where?” His signature lopsided smile appeared. “Where do you want to go?” Oh, how much time did he have?
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Chapter Six The proverbial walk through the park never held such charm. Sunlight dappled the path, gilding the canopy of leaves above. Such beautiful scenery, she’d be hard pressed to describe it. She needed to get out of her loft more often. “Look, an ice cream cart,” Jake said. “Let’s get some.” “You go ahead.” “Come on, they have mocha chocolate chip. Your favorite.” “You did your homework. But no, I can’t.” With her slow metabolism, her thighs would bloat for months. “Jody, come on. Live a little. One ice cream isn’t going to ruin your diet, though frankly, I don’t see why you need to.” “Now I know you’re teasing.” Her curves could give a guy whiplash. He bumped his shoulder into hers. “It’s unhealthier to curb your appetites.” Warmth shot through her. More dangerous to give into temptation. Still, a little bit wouldn’t hurt. They had walked all over the city, along the river and through the park. He’d tugged her onto the carousel, nearly deserted. Very romantic. He’d made her feel like a woman, not simply a writer. “All right, I’ll have a scoop.” And order that damn exercise machine upon setting foot in her home. His smile came so easily it might have been infectious. Her mood lightened, and strolling along 45
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beside him, her senses took in every detail. How he glanced at her every few seconds as he spoke, gauging her reaction. How his body moved with the grace of a wild animal, with an ease attesting to his well-developed muscles. Surprising herself by finishing off the cone, she dabbed a paper napkin to her lips in great satisfaction. “Thank you.” “For what?” “Talking me into that ice cream. And into coming out today. It’s such a gorgeous day; it would have been a crime to spend it in a cab.” Besides, she didn’t want to think about going home. Where would he go? Would she ever see him again? Maybe she could talk Mimi into hiring him for another signing. And schedule that event soon. They came to the edge of the park and stood there, on the edge of civilization, neither wanting to return. Turning toward her, he said, “I could use a drink. How about you?” “Yes, me too.” Anything to delay the inevitable. Strolling casually along the street, neither hurried to find such a place. When they approached a café, he glanced over, eyebrows raised in question. Nodding, she followed him to the door. She’d always wanted to have a guy with whom she could communicate without words. Ironic she’d find that guy in Jake Emerson, who existed only in words. He led her to a small window table, lit by the late afternoon sun. Over chai latte and coffee, they talked about music, art, politics. Life. “Thank you,” he said, “for agreeing to come out.” Turning serious, his pace slowed. “I’m curious, though.” “About what?” she asked absently. Hesitating, he waved it off. “I shouldn’t ask.” “No, tell me.” He made her feel so good about 46
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herself, she trusted him not to hurt her. If he asked her to stay with him, she’d probably give in to the urge to throw it all away on him. Wincing, he said, “Brad. What did you see in him?” Good question. “He seemed like a good idea at the time.” Cute and playful, he’d paid attention to her. She’d sold herself down the river for his attention. “But the more I wanted him, the less of himself he gave. I made excuses for him until I caught him with another woman.” “Never sacrifice yourself, not for anyone,” he said. Reaching for his hand, she traced his knuckles with her fingers. “Easy for you to say.” Sliding his palm across hers, he squeezed. “Why would you say that?” “Because you’re…” Perfect? Or a chameleon who can fit any situation? She admitted, “I don’t know who you are.” Whether he spoke the truth about anything. Sure, he walked the walk and talked the talk. But if she believed he truly was Jake, did that mean she’d completely lost her mind? “Who are you really?” she whispered, regretting it immediately. Hurt filled his face. “You know in your heart.” Releasing his grasp, he eased back. “But you never listen to your heart.” Her face warmed in a blush. “You don’t know me.” Saying it felt like a lie. This man knew her better than she knew herself. His sharp breath and brief sad smile made her ache to take back the words. He opened his mouth, but closed it with a shake of his head. After a long look at her, he stood and strode out the door. Fighting the urge to call him back, she gripped 47
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her cup. He’d be back. Several minutes passed, and the spot where he’d sat felt like a terrible void. “Jake?” she whispered. Clutching her handbag, she rushed outside, hoping to find him leaning against a parking meter. Waiting for her with a grin. But he was nowhere in sight. In the late afternoon sun, shadows along the street stretched long. A few cars passed by, and fewer pedestrians. The world had lost much of its luster with Jake gone. Could she risk it all for someone she wasn’t sure was real? He made you feel more real than anyone else had. A taxi wound around the corner, with no passengers in the back. What luck. Jody waved excitedly, and the driver pulled to the curb. The middle-aged woman behind the wheel peered out the window. Climbing inside, Jody said, “I need a ride to the hotel.” Might as well get her things and go home. She had no reason to stay now. “Are you sure?” the woman rasped in a voice sounding hoarse from too much hard liquor. Oddly familiar. “Yes, why?” “Just askin’. You didn’t seem sure, that’s all.” “If I knew where to look for someone, I’d ask you to take me there. But I don’t know where he went.” Why tell the driver? She had her own problems. To Jody’s surprise, the woman turned, edging her elbow over the seat. “Lover’s spat?” Jody wished. She’d never had the chance to know whether Jake lived up to his reputation. “Something like that.” “Honey, the way you look, if you don’t find him, you’ll be sorry a long time.” 48
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Exactly. “You’re right. It’s crazy, but I’ve never met anyone like him. He’s charming and sweet and funny and completely irritating, but he makes me feel wonderful. Like it’s okay to be myself.” Why hadn’t she called him back to the table when she had the chance? “But I have no idea where he could have gone. Can you maybe drive around awhile?” With a hoarse chuckle, the driver turned. “Honey, you had me at charming. Let’s go find this Casanova.” “Jake,” Jody said, for no reason except she liked the sound of his name. “Like Jake Emerson. I can’t get enough of those books.” “Yes, exactly like Jake Emerson.” Excited, she gripped the back of the seat. “He came to the writer’s conference with me.” The best conference she’d ever attended, made memorable by his warm smile and even warmer presence. In the rear view mirror, the woman stared at her. “You’re not Jody Feather, are you?” “Yes, that’s me.” Pathetic author who had no real life. “No kiddin’. Wait till I tell Al. I’ve yakked his ear off for years about your characters.” “What a sweet thing to say.” Though the woman’s voice held a strange bitterness incongruent with her compliment, making Jody a little nervous. “It’s true. How do you come up with such crazy ideas?” The driver emphasized crazy in a grating tone. “I guess being crazy helps.” Like now. She’d never done anything so off the wall as search for her hero. Yet it felt right. “I’ll be happy to send you an autographed copy of the newest book. I really need to find Jake.” “Honey, you will. I’ll make sure of it.” The driver punctuated her determination by pressing down 49
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hard on the accelerator. The taxi zoomed off, sending Jody against the seat. Yes, crazy only began to describe this weekend. **** The driver tuned in a radio station of oldies, singing along with Elvis and the Everly Brothers in a croaking pitch. Lost in her thoughts, Jody finally glanced out the window. How long had they been driving? Shimmering dusk had given way to inky evening, halos rimming the streetlights. Without asking for instructions, the driver had kept going, like she knew where to go. Buildings receded into a growing haze. “That’s odd. Is it supposed to rain?” She thought the forecast called for clear skies, though she’d paid scant attention. The cab careened around a bend, causing Jody to grasp the seat. Why the sudden rush? Righting herself, alarm filled her when she again glanced outside. The mist had thickened to an impenetrable fog. The mission seemed crazier by the minute. “Listen, I should forget it.” The driver didn’t so much as brake, and steered a hard turn. “We’re almost there. Hang tight.” Now she told her. Jody could’ve used a warning before smacking her shoulder against the window. “Had I given you the hotel’s address?” No way to tell if they headed in the right direction with that fog. When the woman didn’t answer, Jody leaned forward. “Are we close?” The taxi spun in what felt like a one-eighty turn, then came to rest with a jolt. Jody felt like Dorothy whirling through the air in her house, coming to rest in Oz. Touching the window, she gazed in amazement. A hotel stretched beyond the clouds, its windows 50
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setting the mist aglow. A huge neon sign winked letters in succession: S-t-a-r-d-u-s-t M-o-t-e-l. “Stardust Motel? Where am I?” She had a feeling she wasn’t in Pittsburgh anymore. Leaning an arm over the seat, the driver looked less middle-aged than timelessly ancient. “You wanted to find Jake.” “Yes.” Afraid to ask how the woman knew he’d be inside, she froze. “Come on.” Heaving a grunt, the driver climbed out, trudged to Jody’s side and opened the door. Nervous about getting out of the taxi and possibly never seeing civilization again, she shook her head. “I don’t know.” Rolling her eyes, the woman sighed. “That’s your problem, Jody. When it comes to your characters, you’re one hundred percent certain. Fearless! But in life, you’re…. eh, wishy-washy.” Ha. Mimi’s term. Were they all in cahoots? It had to be a setup. “Exactly. It’s fiction.” Ergo, no one dies for real. Anyway, what did this woman know about her problems? A niggling suspicion took root. The driver did seem oddly familiar. Glancing at the taxi registration with her ID, Jody broke out in a clammy sweat. Ginny Rogers, the same name as the female taxi driver in her third novel. The accomplice and lover of the novel’s villain, who Jake fought to the death. Staying in the cab no longer appealed to her. “You’re right.” She grabbed her purse and then the door handle. “What do I owe you?” Jody could have sworn the woman mumbled, “A rewrite.” “Pardon?” She leaned closer, then decided against it. The meter read zero. Digging in her wallet, she drew out a twenty. Ginny waved it away. “Let’s go inside, honey.” 51
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Swallowing hard, Jody remembered to say thanks before following the woman into the lobby. The night air echoed with the bass guitar of Steve Miller’s Space Cowboy and his teasing refrain about Maurice. Not even Steve knew who Maurice was. “And I have no clue who Jake really is.” Did it matter? What she knew for sure: he made her happy. He tempered his rough edges with a gentlemanly touch. He looked out for her. Brought out the best in her. Challenged her. Leaning over the desk, Ginny murmured something to the desk clerk, whose beady eyes bore into Jody. With a jerky nod, the man scurried into an adjacent room. The hair on Jody’s neck stood up. Something seemed off. “What’s going on? Has he seen Jake?” Ginny cackled a laugh. “He sure has.” From the same room, a burly man emerged, the desk clerk right behind. “That’s her.” Oh good. Finally someone who could help. Jody opened her mouth to ask where Jake was, but the bouncer type grabbed her arm without a word. “Hey, what is this?” “Shaddup.” A glance back at Ginny revealed she had no intention of helping. Instead, she waved, her irritating laughter giving way to a glare. “Now you’ll know how it feels to watch your lover die. A long, horrible death.” Horror gripped Jody. Struggling against the brute proved useless. “No. Let me go.” She grabbed the door jamb as he shoved her inside, but only managed to hurt her hand in the process. “What the hell are you doing?” Pushing her down into a chair, he bent near her face, his breath like a stale cigar. “You want to see Jake. So do we.” Chuckling, he twisted her arms 52
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behind the chair and duct taped her wrists. “Well good luck,” she bluffed. “He’s gone.” “You better hope not,” he sneered. A sickly lump hardened in Jody’s stomach. She hoped Jake had gone far from here, somewhere safe. But then who would save her? All her hopes lay with someone she’d met two days earlier, who claimed to be a fictional character. The only part of this that seemed real was that she’d really lost it.
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Chapter Seven Waiting was never Jody’s strong suit. The neon blink of the Stardust Motel sign cut through the room’s darkness. Instead of a hypnotic effect, it made her want to kick out the windows. Too bad her ankles were duct taped to the chair. “Why can’t you be real, dammit,” she muttered behind taped lips. Jody cursed her stupidity. Her misplaced sense of loyalty. Her misplaced sense, period. What did she possibly hope to accomplish in finding Jake? But then, none of this made sense, unless Mimi hired Ginny too. To what end? Extreme motivation? Mimi expected results, and Jody didn’t deliver them fast enough. But this pushed the enveloped too far. Her cell rang again in the tone reserved for one person: Brad. The idiots hadn’t even confiscated it. If she could reach it, she’d not hesitate to give him her opinion. Why must Brad be so persistent now? She could’ve used a reliable guy months ago, but no, he’d left her to boff the bimbo. He’d come to his senses a little late. Maybe she should make him suffer a little longer, and at least date him once. Once couldn’t hurt, could it? At least he had an identity recognized by the government, unlike Jake. Despite it all, she’d be hard pressed to complain about this weekend. Except, of course, her current situation. Trapped in a dark room, uncertain of what might happen next. Definitely not among her Top Ten times. Spending time with Jake ranked up there, though. Top Two, maybe. And if she had to put up 54
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with a little inconvenience to see him again, well, so be it. A headlight swung through the room. A motorcycle’s roar faded to a rumble, then stopped. After a few beats, shouting erupted in the lobby. Thuds and grunts accompanied banging against the wall and groaning. “Where is she, dammit?” Jake! The hoarse response came: “In there.” Another thud, and something—or someone—slid down the outer wall. The following seconds lasted an eternity. Jody froze, staring at the door, willing it to be Jake who walked through, rather than the thug who’d left her here. The handle jiggled, and a man mumbled curses. Blam! The door flew open in an explosion of light. The silhouette of a well-formed guy stood in the frame, lowering his arms and leg after kicking in the lock. “Jody?” Relief gushed through her. Squealing, she did her best to call his name through her bound lips. He reached over and flicked on the lights. “Oh, baby.” In three strides, he stood over her. “We have to get you out of here. Now.” His pocket knife gleamed as he flicked it open and cut away her bonds. Wincing, he pinched the end of the tape across her mouth. “This is going to hurt a bit.” Quick as a snake bite, he tore off the tape. More startled than anything, she shook the pain off and threw herself into his arms. “I thought I’d never see you again.” His voice rumbled through his chest. “You can’t get rid of me.” A quick hug, and he eased away. “Got your sea legs back?” 55
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An inside joke, from book four. “Yes. Let’s go.” He planted his lips against her forehead then guided her through the lobby. Pride welled within her at the sight of the thug splayed unconscious on the floor. Though no one else appeared, uneasiness hung over her. “This seems too easy.” She hadn’t needed to tell him. With sharp glances, he hurried them into the night. Uneasiness shifted to dread. “A motorcycle?” Too much of this weekend had been a recurrence of events in her novels. Scenes she’d crafted to keep readers turning pages, make them gasp. She really didn’t want to live them. No time to argue. Already, he revved the engine and gestured her behind him. At least this bike had a tall back to keep her in place. Still, she slid her leg behind him, pressed her legs against his, and hugged her chest to his back. If they went down, they’d do it together. **** The sole headlight lit the dark road ahead with scant light. No other lights—or cars—appeared. It was rather beautiful, actually. Jody’s body melded against Jake’s more fluidly, leaning into bends as he steered the bike along the winding road. The mist thinned, and bright stars pierced the veil above. No longer caring where they headed, she let the rhythm of the road soothe her. A flash of headlights from a side road blinded her. Tires spun on dirt and gravel. A vehicle spun its rear accelerating toward them. Oh no! They’d been found. Jake revved into a higher gear. The engine roared, sending her sliding backward. Trying not to squeal, she clutched him tighter. No longer could she match his fluid movements as he swerved the bike, leaning into each turn with an animal grace. The confidence and 56
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stealth of a panther. Maybe her next book should include a shifter. She filed that thought away. Better concentrate on getting out of this mess first. In her peripheral vision, headlights loomed closer. A bumper followed, edging closer. She gasped, “Jake!” “Hold on, love,” he called over his shoulder. As if she might let go. When he leaned forward, shifting into a higher gear, she understood. Speeding faster, the back tire shot stones behind them. The back road opened onto a main drag, where Jake opened it up. Peering over his shoulder, she watched the speedometer climb above seventy-five. Eighty. Eighty-five. Fear kept her from screaming. She’d scream later, if they survived. From the sound of the approaching vehicle behind them, she might not get the chance. Slowing only to turn a corner, Jake shifted gears. Terror made her freeze. The street ahead ended in a dead end. Maybe literally, for them. Yet Jake pushed the motorcycle to go faster. Was he mad? “Hang tight,” he yelled, heading straight for a building. Squeezing her eyes shut, she wished she could wake up from this nightmare. She didn’t want to end in a Thelma and Louise scene. Walls appeared on either side. An alley! A squeal of tires against the road, then the sickening crunch of metal accompanied the crush of breaking glass. Pulling the bike to a stop, Jake glanced back. “We don’t have to worry about them any longer.” With a gasp, Jody stared at the crush of what remained of the taxi, too wide to fit through the 57
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narrow passageway. An uncontrollable shiver passed through her, eased by Jake’s hand on her leg. “I don’t know about you, love, but I could use a drink.” Nerves jangling, she managed, “Okay,” but doubted anything strong enough existed. With shaky arms, she resumed her stranglehold on his waist. Grinning over his shoulder, he loosened her grip. “We’ll take it slow.” Slow being a relative term for him. A nervous giggle bubbled up. Before she could say it, he affected a stern look. “Uh uh—no apologies. Remember?” “Yes.” She did remember, and would, from now on. **** The tiny club sat on a side street, far enough away to be safe. Jake pulled the motorcycle to the rear, just in case. Once inside, Jody excused herself to freshen up. After such a harrowing experience, she probably looked a fright. In the ladies’ room, she halted at seeing her reflection. Eyes bright, hair wind-blown in a tantalizing way. Standing tall and strong. The Jody she wanted to be. The Jody Jake helped her to be. She didn’t even care that her best dress suffered more tatters. It added a flair of mystery. Squaring her shoulders, she strode through the lounge toward Jake, sitting at the bar, one elbow propping him up, one long leg extended. As if he felt her presence, he slowly looked up. His features smoothed in hopeful anticipation. She wouldn’t let him get away again. In a few long steps, she stood by his side. “Hey.” “Hey.” Gesturing to the bartender, he said, “A glass of white merlot for the lady?” “No, a margarita—frozen, with salt.” She 58
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stopped herself from adding “heavy on the tequila.” Tequila made her do things she normally wouldn’t dream of. Tonight was a night for dreaming. For wish fulfillment. She’d waited long enough. “Pretty strong stuff,” he said. She’d need it, but first some answers. “Why did you leave?” “You know I can’t stay.” Arguments fell away, useless. “No, I don’t know. I wanted you to.” “It’s the way it is.” “Coward.” She gulped from the salt-rimmed long-stemmed glass. “What?” he asked incredulously. “You’re afraid of what could be.” “You think I don’t want to stay?” His tone strained, he stared longingly at her lips. “I don’t know what you want.” She downed another gulp and abandoned the glass. Entwining his fingers in hers, he tugged her toward the back door. “Then I’ll show you.” “What are you doing?” At the slam of the metal door, he pinned her against the pebbled wall. “This.” Crushing his lips to hers, his hips held hers in place. Good thing, or she’d have melted to a puddle at his feet. “Jake.” Her fantasies couldn’t conjure someone so tangible. His weight pressed against her. “I’ve waited too long.” White heat erased her thoughts. “Forever.” The alarm in her head sounded so distant when he tugged her legs around his waist. Slitting an eye, she didn’t want the dream to end. Darkness engulfed the alley; no one would see. No one would steal this moment from her. 59
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Not even herself. She blocked the questions swirling through her brain. The doubt threatening to rob her of this bliss. Bliss of the wild variety. The kind that made her grasp his hair, wrap her thighs tighter around his exquisite torso, urge him on with, “Oh yes!” The kind Jody only wrote about, never believing such happiness existed. It existed tonight. Right here. Right now. With Jake. Aware of every touch, every motion, she imprinted it on her memory so she’d never be without it. Finally spent, he nuzzled against her. She reveled in every detail of him. Her fingers twined his damp hair. His chest pressed against her breasts with each breath, soft against her neck. The dim glow of the pale light next to the back door lit half his face. “Jody,” he whispered. Don’t talk. Don’t ruin it. “Jake.” “Are you all right?” If over the moon counted as all right. Not caring if her grin appeared loony, she touched her lips to his. “Oh, yeah.” His eyes shone with relief. “I wanted our first time to be special.” Was he kidding? “More special than amazing?” Not wanting it to end, she nibbled his ear. Rubbing her thigh, he watched her. “You know what I mean. Rose petals on the sheets. Candlelight. Snuggling on pillows afterward—not brick. Everything you deserve.” “Brick’s not so bad, actually.” “You deserve better.” His soft insistence made her tense. Here it came. Better than him? “Jake…” She couldn’t bring herself to start that conversation. He guided her legs to the ground. “We should go.” Stifling her panic, she nodded. Go where— 60
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home? Could she let him leave her? He drew her to him in a long, luxurious kiss. Leaning his forehead against hers, he said, “You’re an incredible woman, Jody Feather. Never forget it.” The admiration in his eyes trumped rose petals on sheets any day. “I promise, I’ll remember.” Every second of this weekend. When her cell buzzed, she ripped it from her purse and tossed it in the garbage bin. “I’m changing my number when I get home.” Straddling the bike, Jake grinned his approval. “Take the long way home, will you?” She fitted herself against him as he revved the engine. The hotel could send her bags later. His hand traveled back to her thigh as he turned. “Ready?” To face the rest of her life? Finally, she could say, “Yes.” **** The condo came into sight too soon for Jody. After Jake halted the Harley, she climbed off. “Can you come in?” “Sorry love. Duty calls.” She knit her brows. “What duty?” “You know. The next book.” “The next…” She gasped. “How did you know I planned to outline a new story?” He reached for her hand. “Jody, if you don’t believe now…” He sighed. “I want to. Really.” She gave an incredulous laugh. “But you have to admit, it’s a little crazy.” Who in her right mind would believe the hero she’d dreamed up had come to life? And she didn’t want him to be Jake if it meant he had to leave. He shrugged. “Love’s pretty crazy.” Her heart twisted, and ached for him, though he was still there, warm and as real as any guy could possibly be. “Please stay.” 61
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Still straddling the bike, he stood and touched his lips to hers. “We both have work to do.” An ache welled up. “You’re tempting me to kill you off.” He grinned. “That’s my girl.” She wished. Even if he couldn’t stay, she knew she’d find the same bliss with someone equally wonderful. And she’d always have him in her heart. She waited for him to rev the engine and stepped onto the curb when the bike roared away. She shielded her eyes against the setting sun. A brilliant flash made her turn away. “What the…” After her vision cleared, she stood on tiptoe but couldn’t see the Harley. Strange. An eerie sense came over her as she trod up the steps. Inside the apartment, the parakeet whistled “Dream A Little Dream of Me”— the song Jake sang to his lover in the novel soon to be released. Throwing open the door, she stared openmouthed. “Frank!” He’d never before sung any tune. “And how did that get here?” The cardboard cutout of Jake Emerson stood beside the bird cage. From beneath the wide-brimmed hat, a glimmer shone in Jake’s eyes. “Must have been the sun.” Moving closer, she looked from the window to the figure. No way, the sun had already circled behind the building. When she glanced back to the life-sized Jake, she could have sworn he winked.
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A word about the author... Cate Masters has made beautiful central Pennsylvania her home for the past 20 years, but she’ll always be a Jersey girl at heart. A lover of all great writing, she aspires to entertain and enthrall with her own stories. Most days, she can be found in her lair, concocting a magical brew of contemporary, historical, and fantasy/paranormal stories with her cat Chairman Maiow and dog Lily as company. Look for her at www.catemasters.com, http://catemasters.blogspot.com, and in strange nooks and far-flung corners of the web. Cate loves to hear from readers. Email her at:
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Thank you for purchasing this Wild Rose Press publication. For other wonderful stories of romance, please visit our on-line bookstore at www.thewildrosepress.com. For questions or more information contact us at
[email protected]. The Wild Rose Press www.TheWildRosePress.com To visit with authors of The Wild Rose Press join our yahoo loop at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/thewildrosepress/
