“Jake?” Char said after a few minutes of silence. Jake was seriously contemplating just pulling over the car and attacking her.
“Yeah?”
“About the wedding. Do you think they’ll let any press inside, you know, to cover some of the pre-ceremony details and family interviews?”
Poor Char, she was probably worried her face would be splashed all over the news again. He needed to put her at ease. “Not at all. Kacey was really specific about no media. So you have nothing to worry about. They don’t want to turn it into a field day. I mean, you know as much as me what happens when the media gets involved.”
“Right.”
“No offense.” He cringed, momentarily forgetting she was a reporter. Though he hadn’t seen her on the news in a while. Not that he’d been some creepy stalker who’d Tivo’d her channel or saved them or anything. He cleared his throat. “So how’s work?”
“Swell.”
“You have any big projects coming up? Curing world hunger or something like that?”
“Something like that.” Char let out a breath and looked out the window. “I’m sorry, by the way.”
“For?”
“The condoms.” She turned to look at him; the moonlight reflecting through the windows of his car highlighted the curve of her delicate neck.
He adjusted himself in his seat and managed to clear his throat, sounding relatively normal and not at all as turned on as he felt. Damn. When was the last time just the mere appearance of a girl had him acting like he was fourteen again? “Yeah, well, I’m sorry I called you an alcoholic.”
She smiled, the type of smile guys dream about at night, the smile that holds promises of forever and stolen kisses, lots of laughter, and… He shook his head. Not on the agenda, not in his life, not his future.
He pulled up to her work where her car was parked. Soft music from the radio played in the background. It wasn’t a date. It wasn’t meant to be, except it felt like one. It was awkward in the same way first dates are. You know, the kind of date where you’re terrified of where to put your hands, if you have food in your teeth, or whether you’re giving off a creepy vibe.
Char reached for the door handle and pushed it open. “See you later, Jake.”
“Yeah.”
He let her walk away.
Again.
It seemed as if he was always doing that. She was always walking toward something and for some reason it made him want to chase her. As if she was a zebra and he was a lion in need of pouncing on her.
Did he only want her because she was angry as hell and hard to get? Or was it more? He put his car back into drive and turned up the music.
Reality. He needed a large dose of it. Either that or a cold shower. Travis had warned him away and for once in his life he didn’t really feel like letting Travis or Kacey down.
“Siri,” he said aloud to his phone. “Find me the closest bar.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
How was it fair that even though Char and Jake weren’t dating, all she wanted to do when she got home was open up a giant bottle of wine and watch bad reality TV? He’d done nothing wrong.
Other than being mind-numbingly attractive, treating her like a princess, then accusing her of being an alcoholic.
She smirked, and opened the bottle of wine, pouring herself a glass. Beth was already asleep but Char still couldn’t get the afternoon’s events out of her head. As typical of any girl, she wanted to dissect every last piece of conversation she and Jake had had until she could figure out what it all meant. Was he just being nice? Turning over a new leaf and all that? Or was it all a ploy to get her into bed again? Was he just being that guy until he had what he wanted? And did he even want her to begin with or was he suddenly just bored with his playboy lifestyle?
To add to her list of already growing problems—he’d said no media. Maybe if she presented her case differently, was completely honest with him and said she’d be jobless just like him if she didn’t cover it. Would he take pity on her? Then again, she was damn good at her job; that one little incident didn’t define her, all she needed were some details of the wedding, a few pictures, and she’d be golden. Nobody ever had to know it was her that gave the information up to the press. Besides, wouldn’t they rather have a friend cover such a special day than some random person with a camera? Was it right for Char to even ask such a favor? Especially given the stress of the wedding? She didn’t want to add more, and honestly it wasn’t Kacey’s problem that Char’s boss was a greedy ass who had no moral compass. The quiet ticking of the clock in the bedroom didn’t matter. It was like being on Jeopardy.
She put herself in Kacey’s shoes: What would she do? Kacey always did the right thing, even if it killed her. Char, on the other hand, wasn’t marrying into a Titus fortune. She needed money to eat! After getting her demotion, she knew this was the final straw. If she didn’t get the pictures, her dream of being on the news would be officially over. So what if she just asked Kacey? Or Travis? Or even Grandma? A headache began to pound at her temples.
Her phone went off and she looked at the screen. It was an e-mail, which she quickly opened. One word. That’s all it was. One word and a question mark.
Well?
It was from Mark. The only answer she could come up with rhymed with it, Hell, and that was it. As if she needed another sign, Kacey’s face popped up on her cell.
She needed advice, wise counsel, something, anything. Or maybe just another chat with her boss. Maybe if she explained the predicament he’d back off?
Groaning, she closed her eyes for a second, allowing all the stress of the day to wash away from her. She needed a job. Period. Jake Titus? Well, that was more of a want, and she still hadn’t figured out if he’d lost his mind or somehow just found a heart in that muscular body of his.
With a grunt she sat on the couch and flipped on the TV. Soon her eyes felt heavy and she fell asleep.
* * *
The sound of the TV jolted her awake. Slowly, Char rose from the couch and grabbed the remote to turn it off.
But when she reached for the button, something on the screen caught her eye.
“Holy crap.” She turned it up, more awake than she’d been in hours.
“Millionaire playboy Jake Titus returns to party scene.” The reporter said. “He was seen downtown at hot spots Brazeel and Ice. Sources say he left with not one, but two women on his arm. Rumors have gone rampant over the past week, ever since Mr. Titus was asked to step down from Titus Enterprises. Women all over Seattle must be happy to see the city’s most famous bachelor in high spirits and back to his old self.”
The remote fell from her hand.
Shaking, Char took a sip of wine.
The ass.
He was toying with her, playing a game, and she’d totally fallen for it again! How many times in the past few days had she promised herself she wouldn’t fall, and yet she justified her feelings because he had seemed so different.
Clearly, leopards didn’t change their spots.
And Jake Titus could sleep with whomever the hell he wanted. She was done, completely done.
Chapter Twenty-eight
The first thing Jake thought when he woke up alone in his bed was that God had taken away his sex drive in order to punish him.
But if he was really being honest…
It wasn’t God.
It was Char.
He wasn’t sure if he should hate her or just run over to her house and have his way with her over and over again.
Two girls, both gorgeous, both models… and nothing. Absolutely nothing. Even the whiskey had turned sour in his stomach the minute they’d both started stripping in front of him. He’d actually told them he had to go to the bathroom.
An all-time low.
The bathroom? Had he lost his damn mind?
He pulled a total chick move, ran into the bathroom and sat on the toilet seat with his head in his hands—shaking, yes, shaking over the fact that he’d completely lost control of his life.
All because of a stupid girl he’d met at a stupid junior high camp, that had a stupidly amazing body with stupid bright eyes and luscious lips and—
Well, at that point, in the bathroom, he had more than a drive back.
But then he heard the girls, the twins, calling his name.
And there it went.
Down the toilet.
He sat there for ten minutes. Then, walked out of the bathroom making the lamest excuse known to players everywhere. “Look, I’m just not feeling it tonight. I’m sick.”
The girls both looked at one another and then approached him. Twin one had a black lacey bra and underwear on and twin number two was wearing nothing at all.
Maybe he was gay?
Once they were close enough to touch him, he stepped away. Their perfume was literally suffocating him. Why couldn’t they smell more like Ch—
“Shit!” He yelled, causing both girls to jump. “Sorry, it’s not you guys, it’s me.”
“Really?” Twin one said. “Are you getting rid of us? What the hell is your problem?”
“You. Both of you.” Jake growled. “Now leave.”
They flipped him off in perfect synchronization and grabbed their clothes. The minute the door closed behind them, he fell onto the couch and groaned.
Damn his brother for telling him to stay away from the one girl that actually made him want to give it up. He had to keep telling himself it would get better, that soon he wouldn’t have this problem. Because in the end he knew he was the type of guy that would hurt Char. There would be no happily ever after because guys like him didn’t know how to give it, and he wasn’t really sure he was able to be what she needed him to be.
Had he ever been that guy? The one girls ran to when something went wrong? No, that was his brother Travis. Jake was the screw up, the partier, the one who, when caught by Kacey’s dad at the age of fourteen snorting coc**ne and partying with girls twice his age, took him by the ear, and told him he was ruining his life.
Which he was.
It hadn’t helped that the minute that Bill grabbed Jake, he was so high and disoriented that he had fallen into the river by their house and nearly drowned.
He hadn’t touched drugs since. Alcohol? Yes, maybe it was because it was the only way to numb everything. Jake never pretended to be something he wasn’t… he just wasn’t sure if he liked what he actually was anymore.
Chapter Twenty-nine
“Hey, jackass!” An irritating female voice called to him in his dream. “Wake up! It’s time to board the plane!”
“Why are you yelling?” Jake whispered, holding his hands to his temples. “And what the hell are you wearing?”
Char stood in front of him, hands on hips, wearing a bright pink sweat outfit straight from the pages of Victoria’s Secret.
“Son of a bitch, turn off the lights.” He put his hand over his eyes and kept swearing.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Char kept talking loudly. “Does my bright outfit make your headache worse? How about a shot of tequila, hmm?”
His stomach clenched at the thought. How was it that he was completely drunk out of his mind and still managed to turn down two women at the same time? And yet, the object of his affection looked about three seconds away from taking a knife to his nether region.