by Nina Lindsey
Jake pushed his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. He could sense a matchmaker a hundred miles away. Women matchmaking for themselves, their daughters, their sisters. Hell, their mothers. Even a grandmother once or twice in his career. The last thing he needed was for Eleanor to try and set him up with Callie the Classics Professor, no matter how much she’d intrigued him yesterday.
“We were more acquaintances than friends in high school,” he hedged. “Besides, I don’t have time to go out.”
Eleanor’s mouth dipped into a slight frown. “Are you working on a movie?”
“No.” He indicated his camera. “Just doing some hobby photography.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that you should date Callie. I know you have a girlfriend.”
“Uh…no, I don’t, actually.” Jake shuffled his feet, suddenly feeling as if he were a five-year-old being questioned. He couldn’t lie to Eleanor any more than he could lie to his own mother.
“What about the eye candy you brought to the Glitter Awards last month?” she asked. “I saw your pictures all over the entertainment magazines.”
He scratched his ear. He was no stranger to eye candy, and he was the first to admit that he’d enjoyed the female adulation that was a major perk of being an action-movie hero.
But over the past few years, he’d learned the meaning of too much candy. Much as he enjoyed women and treated them well, he was weary of clingy young starlets with their painful desire to “make it big.” He’d been feeling increasingly paternal toward them, which might also have had something to do with hitting thirty-two last year and realizing he’d never had the kind of relationship that his sister Pam had with her husband.
Not that Jake wanted to get married. But he was definitely over eye candy, and for whatever reason he felt compelled to convince Eleanor Prescott that he wasn’t a player.
“I took Jessica Barnett to the awards ceremony as a favor to a director friend.” He spread his hands out. “She’s a relatively new actress and she has a movie coming out this summer. The Glitter Awards gave her some needed exposure. But she’s not my girlfriend.”
Eleanor leaned forward to put her hand on his arm. “Even if she were, Jake, it would be lovely if you got together with Callie. I honestly can’t remember the last time she went out, even with her sisters.”
Discomfort rustled in his chest. “Because of work?”
“She’s busy all the time.” Eleanor shook her head, concern darkening her eyes. “And she takes on a lot of stuff that she doesn’t have to. That’s part of the reason why she’s so successful, of course. She’s up for tenure in her department and she’s writing a book proposal, so she doesn’t have time for dating or going out. That’s what she says, anyway.”
Much as he wished he could go out with Callie, Jake forced himself to shake his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t have the time to spare.”
Disappointment and something resembling hurt flashed on Eleanor’s face. Breaking his gaze from hers, Jake fiddled with the strap of his camera.
Based on Eleanor’s description, Callie hadn’t changed since high school. As a major overachiever, she’d also had a reputation in high school for being a control freak. And a cold fish, according to several of the jocks who’d tried to ask her on a date.
But Jake hadn’t thought of her as cold. She’d been out of his league—too brilliant and academically driven—but she’d been…interesting. He’d been kind of fascinated by her, like she was an exotic species of animal that he could only admire from afar.
She hadn’t seemed exotic or cold yesterday, though. She sure as hell hadn’t felt cold. Just the opposite. Everything about her, from her brown eyes to her flushed cheeks and smooth skin, had been warm. Even hot.
His phone buzzed, breaking his thoughts. He glanced at the screen. It was the head of his security detail, likely calling for his daily check-in and debriefing.
Ignoring the call, Jake put his phone back in his pocket. But a sudden unease sparked in him. The security expert would be pissed that Jake had revealed his location to anyone, even a bakery owner he’d known in high school.
Hell, the whole security team would go ballistic if they knew Eleanor had even recognized him. She wasn’t a threat, but just one offhanded comment or click of the mouse about “Jake Ryan,” and the paparazzi would be on him like the slime they were.
He’d let his guard down. Whether from the Chaos Cookie or thoughts of Callie Prescott, he didn’t know. But now he had to slam his guard back into place.
“If you do find yourself with time to spare, I’m sure Callie would enjoy talking with you.” Eleanor rose and started toward the door, snapping open the lock.
“Mrs. Pres…Eleanor.”
She was a fan. She’d want to help him out. Right?
Jake forced out his best movie-star smile. “I have a favor to ask you.”
“Of course.” She turned back to him, the door half open.
“I need you not to tell anyone about me.” He narrowed his eyes to emphasize the seriousness of the request. “I meant it when I said I need to lie low. No one can know who I am or that I’m here.”
He half-expected her to return his smile and assure him that of course she wouldn’t divulge his identity. Instead her eyes sharpened, and she pursed her lips as if in thought. Or speculation.
“How long do you need to stay in town?”
“About a month. Just until the bad press dies down or we can shift the story.”
She closed the door again and turned to face him. “No one knows you’re here?”
“Just my agent.” He cleared his throat. “And my mom.”
“What if someone else recognizes you?”
An image flashed in his head of Callie’s dawning look of recognition. “I’m counting on that not happening. You can’t tell anyone. Not even your daughters.”
“Jake, I won’t lie to them.” She straightened her shoulders, disapproval creasing her forehead.
“No, of course not. Just don’t tell them at all. There’s no lying involved.”
She studied him again, her blue eyes gleaming. “Callie is coming over tonight…as usual. She always asks about my day. I’ll have to tell her that I broke a teapot because of you.”
Unease tightened Jake’s chest. “Why do you have to tell her that?”
“Oh, Callie and I tell each other everything.” She smiled and shrugged. “Mother-daughter bond, you know.”
Mother-daughter bond, my ass. He knew when a woman was out for something.
The air tensed. An edge of calculation rose. Jake had been in enough negotiations to sense the moment before everyone was about to dig in their heels to get what they wanted.
“Eleanor.” He gave her his high-wattage smile again, though he suspected it would have about as much impact as a cotton ball on a wall of steel. She might have been a fan, but she was no fawning groupie. “Please don’t tell anyone.”
“I’ll keep your secret, Jake.” She narrowed her gaze. “If you spend time with Callie while you’re here.”
Boom. This woman could have been a Hollywood shark.
But he wasn’t without his own bargaining powers.
He folded his arms and stiffened his spine. “Define spend time with.”
“Take her out for coffee and dinner.” She waved a hand as if that should be obvious, though her face crinkled with concern. “Maybe a movie. In all honesty, Jake, I want her to have fun. She’s a lovely, intelligent, thirty-two-year-old woman living the life of a Victorian spinster. She needs to look up and realize there’s a world out there.”
Jake frowned, disliking the picture of Callie as a “spinster” hiding in a shell. “Have you tried to set her up before?”
“No.” A hint of guilt darkened her eyes. “I’m not trying to set her up, and I’m afraid I’m partly to blame for why she has no social life. I’ve relied on her far too much recently. We both need to move forward. I just want her to…well, let’s just say that I’ve learned how swiftl
y life can pass you by if you’re not paying attention. I don’t want any of my daughters to make that same discovery.”
Jake smothered another wave of unease. “So I entertain your daughter, and you won’t tell anyone I’m back in town?”
“I won’t tell a soul.”
He knew he’d cave, and he didn’t like it. “She’ll know it’s me.”
“Oh, don’t worry about Callie.” Eleanor shook her head and let out a small laugh. “Who would she tell, the seventy-year-old professor of Homeric poetry? Trust me, Callie doesn’t associate with anyone who would care about the star of Fatal Glory.”
“What about your other daughters?”
“She’d never tell them she was seeing a man. They’d tease her mercilessly.”
He tightened his jaw, torn between his fascination with Callie and his need to stay incognito. “I’m not going to date her. You’d better believe I’ll tell her that.”
“Of course you can’t date.” Eleanor clucked her tongue. “She’s a Classics professor with a PhD from Harvard, and you’re a movie star who chases bad guys and hangs off buildings. It’s a worse match than Tom and Nicole.”
“Well, let’s not go overboard.” Jake was unexpectedly stung.
“My point is that Callie needs a friend.” Eleanor touched his arm, her expression softening. “And she needs to loosen up a little. Especially now. She’s been my rock…heck, my mountain…for so long, and it’s time for her to focus on herself and her own life. Believe me, this isn’t the first time I’ve worried about her well-being. She’s a very special young woman who deserves a great deal from life, but she needs to get away from her books and her lists first. I would never ask this of just any man. Only one I know I can trust implicitly.”
Jake flexed his hands. Though Eleanor’s concern for her daughter was clear, he sensed that she had another motive. Whatever it was, even if he turned down her offer, he didn’t think for a second that she would run around telling everyone he was back in Bliss Cove.
No. Something else was going on. But if he said no…Eleanor might ask another guy to “entertain” Callie. Just the thought of her going out with someone else ignited an irrational jealousy.
“It won’t be like going out with one of your fangirls,” Eleanor assured him. “Callie won’t get tongue-tied and fawn all over you. I doubt she even knows what the Fatal Glory movies are. She can tell you everything about Dionysian orgies, but she doesn’t know the first thing about contemporary pop culture.”
Against his better judgment, curiosity sparked in Jake at the idea of suited-up Callie discussing orgies. He shook the thought away and refocused on Eleanor.
“All right.” Irritation edged his voice. “I’ll do it.”
“Wonderful!” She smiled, her eyes twinkling. “My lips are sealed. No one except your agent, your mother, and me will ever know that Jake Ryan is back in Bliss Cove.”
She turned back to the door and opened it, her steps noticeably light.
Tension crawled over Jake’s shoulders. He was usually a hell of a lot more aggressive when it came to contract negotiations. He strong-armed for deal points and perks. Now, he’d only gotten what he’d asked for.
“Wait a minute.” He pushed to his feet.
Eleanor paused and turned.
“I have a lot more responsibility in this agreement than you do.” Spreading his stance, he fisted his hands on his hips and stared her down. “I want more.”
She raised her eyebrows. “What more do you want?”
“You put aside two fresh-baked Chaos Cookies for me every morning.” Jake held up two fingers to illustrate the point. “Two. The biggest, roundest cookies with the most chocolate chips. Any day I come in and there are no cookies waiting for me, the deal’s off.”
Eleanor compressed her lips with amusement. “Done.”
“Good.”
“My cell number is on the business card by the register.” She smoothed her hand over her apron. “Text me, and I’ll give you Callie’s contact info. Thank you, Jake. I’m sure this will work out beautifully for all of us.”
With a smile, she returned to the kitchen.
Jake picked up his camera, deflecting a strikingly strong anticipation over the idea of seeing Callie again. He’d just managed to convince himself not to go looking for her, no matter how much he’d wanted to. Now not only did he have to find her, he’d get to take her out. Or at least, ask her out.
Sudden wariness hit him. He’d never had a problem getting women to date him—just the opposite—but he’d never asked out an academic. Much less one with a PhD from Harvard. Much less Callie Prescott.
What if he couldn’t convince her to say yes?
Chapter 5
“On Monday, we’ll start discussing the specific functions of the Underworld beings,” Callie called over the rustle of papers and notebooks as the students started to leave the lecture hall. “Review your notes on Charon, Cerberus, the Fates, and the Furies, please. Remember that discussion is fifteen percent of your final grade. Your term papers are due on my desk by five p.m. tomorrow.”
She turned off the slide projector and checked her daily agenda. It would take her five minutes to walk back to her office, which then gave her half an hour to prep for her noon call with the Cambridge Press editor who was interested in contracting her book.
If Callie could prove her idea was an important take on the goddesses and heroines of Greco-Roman mythology.
If not…
Tension crawled down her spine.
“Please let me put your lectures on a computer.” Her teaching assistant Jordan thunked the slide carousels onto the table with a groan. “You have no idea how much easier it will be to organize and update them.”
“The slides are just fine.” Callie put her agenda in her satchel. “I prefer to make changes to my lectures in longhand.”
“You’re not a hundred years old,” Jordan remarked, as if she didn’t know that. “Didn’t you use digital presentations when you were a student?”
“Yes, but Professor Farnsworth was my mentor, and he convinced me that real slides and handwritten lecture notes are superior. So I’ve used them ever since I started working here.” She snapped her satchel closed. “Can you please take the carousels over to the Art History library? I need to look for new slides later this afternoon.”
Muttering under his breath about modern technology and superiority, Jordan packed up the remote and wiring before heading off.
“Dr. Prescott?” Lisa, a sophomore who’d taken a course with her last semester, stopped beside the podium. “Did you get my email?”
Callie shot a quick glance at the departing undergrads. As was usual the day before an assignment was due, she’d gotten a dozen emails from plaintive students begging for extensions on their papers—because I had to study for a chemistry pop quiz, because my laptop battery died, because my Wi-Fi is out and I can’t access the course website, a message to which Callie had replied, Then how are you able to access email?
“I did,” she told Lisa. “I’m glad you’re all right.”
“Thanks. It was pretty scary.”
Callie had received Lisa’s email late last night and hadn’t had to mull it over. Lisa was an excellent student with A’s on all her exams. She’d never turned in an assignment late or asked for an extension. Her message about having been in a collision—a texting driver had rear-ended her, and she’d lost control and crashed into a railing—had been accompanied by photos of the wreck and the police report. Though Lisa wasn’t hurt, the aftermath was a challenge.
“I just need one or two more days.” Lisa gnawed on her bottom lip. “I’m dealing with the insurance and police now, and it was the car I used to take my little brother to his school and activities, so it’s thrown everything totally out of whack.”
Callie snapped her satchel closed and lowered her voice. “Can you have your paper to me by Monday?”
Relief filled Lisa’s eyes. “Yes, definitely. Thank you
so much.”
“Don’t tell anyone I gave you an extension, please.” Callie slipped her satchel over her shoulder. “I don’t want to ruin my reputation as a tyrant.”
“Don’t worry.” Lisa smiled. “If anyone asks, I’ll tell them you’re getting ready to throw down lightning bolts at us mere mortals.”
“Monday.” Callie raised an eyebrow pointedly.
“I’ll have it on your desk by nine.” Lisa clasped her hands together. “Thank you so much, Dr. Prescott.”
“You’re welcome. I hope it all works out, but please keep me posted.”
Callie checked her watch and hurried outside. She’d have less than half an hour to do a final prep for her Cambridge Press call, but that would still be enough time. She’d been working so hard on this proposal that she almost had it memorized.
After passing the elevator, she hurried up the stairs to her fifth-floor office, retrieving her office keys from her blazer pocket. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she’d better eat something before her call too. Hopefully she had a granola bar in her desk.
Head down, she searched her keyring for her office key just as a pair of large, scuffed sneakers came into view. She stopped, lifting her eyes to long, muscular legs clad in faded jeans…
Callie’s breath caught. She continued her upward trek, sweeping her gaze over his fly—which she couldn’t help noticing was button rather than zipper, and she had always found button flies rather ridiculously sexy—to his flat abdomen and broad, muscular chest that…
“I’ve been avoiding elevators too,” a deep male voice remarked. “But it’s a good thing we both decided to take one the other day.”
Oh. My. God.
Callie jerked her attention to his face. Behind black-framed glasses, a pair of striking blue eyes regarded her with both intrigue and faint amusement.
She stepped backward, her heart racing. “Why…why is that a good thing?”