Taking the Boss to Bed

by Joss Wood

  “One down, two to go,” Priscilla stated without looking up. Her mother, wearing an enormous floppy hat, sat next to her, a rough draft of her newest manuscript in her hands.

  “Don’t look at me,” Merry categorically stated, placing her bare feet on the arm of Jaci’s chair.

  “It should’ve been my marriage next,” Jaci quietly stated.

  “Speaking of,” Merry said, “I saw you talking to Clive last night. You looked very civilized. Why weren’t you slapping his face and scratching his eyes out?”

  Jaci rested her cup of coffee on her knee. “Because I don’t care about him anymore. He’s coming here today. I stored some things of his in my room that he needs to collect.” Jaci pushed her sunglasses up her nose. “Once that’s done I’ll be free of him, forever.”

  Merry snorted her disbelief and Jaci wanted to tell her that it was true because she was in love with Ryan, but that was too new, too precious to share.

  “So what did you talk about?” Merry asked. “Your relationship?”

  “A little. He was very apologetic and sweet about it. He groveled a bit and that was nice.”

  “I don’t buy it,” Merry stated, her eyes narrowed. “Clive isn’t the type to grovel.”

  Merry was so damn cynical sometimes, Jaci thought. “Look, he tried to talk me into trying again but I told him about New York, about everything that happened there and how happy I was. He eventually gave up and said that he understood. He wished me well and we parted on good terms.”

  “Clive doesn’t like hearing the word no,” Merry stated, her lips in a thin line. “I don’t trust him. Be careful of him.”

  Merry really was overreacting, thought Jaci, bored with talking about her ex.

  “And Ryan?” Merry asked.

  Ryan? Jaci rested her head on the back of her chair. “I don’t know, Merry. He has his own issues to work through. I don’t know if we will ever be anything more than just friends.”

  “He doesn’t look at you like you’re just friends,” Merry said.

  “That’s just because we are really good in bed together,” Jaci retorted, and sent her mother a guilty look. “Sorry, Mum.”

  “I know you had sex with him, child,” Priscilla drily replied. “I’m not that much of a prude or that oblivious. I have had, and for your information, still do have, a sex life.”

  “God.” Jaci placed her hand over her eyes and Merry groaned. “Thanks for putting that thought into my head. Eeew. Anyway, coming back to Ryan...he’s a closed book in so many ways. I take one step forward with him and sixty back. I thought we took a couple of steps forward last night.”

  “I thought you said that things are casual between you,” Merry said.

  “They are.” Jaci tugged at the ragged hem of her denim shorts. “Sort of. As I said, I think we turned a corner last night but, knowing me, I might be reading the situation wrong.” She pulled her earlobe. “I tend to do that with men. I’m pretty stupid when it comes to relationships.”

  “We all are, in one way or another,” Merry told her.

  “Yeah, but I tend to take stupidity to new heights,” Jaci replied, tipping her face up to the sun. She’d kissed Ryan impulsively, agreed to be his pretend girlfriend, slept with him and then fell in love with him. Stupid didn’t even begin to cover it.

  Well, she’d made those choices and now she had to live the consequences...

  Jaci jerked when she heard the slap of paper hitting the stone floor and she winced when the wind picked up her mother’s manuscript and blew sheets across the terrace. Before her mother could get hysterical about losing her work, Jaci jumped up to retrieve the pages, but Priscilla’s whip-crack voice stopped her instantly. “Sit down, Jacqueline!”

  “But...your papers.” Jaci protested.

  “Leave them,” Priscilla ordered and Jaci frowned. Who was this person and what had she done with her mother? The Priscilla Jaci knew would be having six kittens and a couple of ducks by now at the thought of losing her work.

  Priscilla yanked off her hat and shoved her hand into her short cap of gray hair. She frowned at Jaci but her eyes looked sad. “I don’t ever want to hear those words out of your mouth again.”

  Jaci quickly tried to recall what she’d said and couldn’t pinpoint the source of her ire. “What words?”

  “That you are stupid. I won’t have it, do you understand?”

  Jaci felt as if she was being sucked into a parallel universe where nothing made sense. Before she could speak, Priscilla held up her hand and shook her head. “You are not stupid, do you understand me?” Priscilla stated, her voice trembling with emotion. “You are more intelligent than the rest of us put together!”

  No, she wasn’t. “Mum—”

  “None of us could have coped with what Clive put you through with the grace and dignity you did. We just shoved our heads in the sand and ignored him, hoping that he would go away. But you had to deal with him, with the press. The four of us deal with life by ignoring what makes us unhappy and we’re selfish, horrible creatures.”

  “It’s okay, Mum. I’m okay.”

  Jaci flicked a look at Merry, who appeared equally uncomfortable at their mother’s statement. “It’s not okay. It’s not okay that you’ve spent your life believing that you are second-rate because you are not obsessive and selfish and driven and ambitious.”

  “But I’m not smart like you.” Jaci stared at her intertwined fingers.

  “No, but you’re smart like you,” Merry quietly said. “Instead of falling apart when Clive raked you, and your relationship, through the press, you picked yourself up, dusted yourself off and started something new. You pursued your dream and got a job and you started a new life, and that takes guts, kid. Mum’s right. We ignore what we don’t understand and bury ourselves, and our emotions, in our work.”

  Jaci let out a low, trembling laugh. “Let’s not get too carried away. I’m a scriptwriter. It’s not exactly War and Peace.”

  “It’s a craft,” Priscilla insisted. “A craft that you seem to excel at, as I’ve recently realized. I’m sorry that you felt like you couldn’t share that with us, that you thought that we wouldn’t support you. God, I’m a terrible mother. I’m the failure, Jaci, not you. You are, by far, the best of us.”

  Merry reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “I’m sorry, too, Jace. I haven’t exactly been there for you.”

  Jaci blinked away the tears in her eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat. What a weekend this had been, she thought; she’d fallen in love and she’d realized that she was a part of the Brookes-Lyon family—quite an important part, as it turned out. She was the normal one. The rest of her family were all slightly touched. Clever but a bit batty.

  It was, she had to admit, a huge relief.

  “And you are not stupid when it comes to men,” Priscilla stated, her voice now strong and back to its normal no-nonsense tone. “Ryan is thick if he can’t see how wonderful you are.”

  She wished she could tell them about Ben and Kelly’s betrayal, but that was Ryan’s story, not hers. Maybe they had made some progress last night, but how much? Jaci knew that Ryan wasn’t the type to throw caution to the wind and tumble into a relationship with her; he might have told her the reasons for his wariness and reserve but he hadn’t told her that he had any plans to change his mind about trusting, about loving someone new. She knew that he would still be the same guarded, restrained, unable-to-trust person he currently was, and she didn’t know if she could live with that...long term. How did you prove yourself worthy of someone’s trust, someone’s love? And if she ignored these concerns and they fell back into bed, she’d be happy until the next time he emotionally, or physically, disappeared. And she would be hurt all over again. She could see the pattern evolving before her eyes, and she didn’t want to play that game.

 
; She wanted a relationship, she wanted love, she wanted forever.

  Jaci gnawed at her bottom lip. “I don’t know where I stand with him.”

  Priscilla sent her a steady look. “As much as I like Ryan, if you can’t work that out, and if he won’t tell you, then maybe it’s time that you stopped standing and started walking.”

  Stop standing and start walking... Jaci felt the truth of her mum’s words lodge in her soul. Would Ryan ever let her be, well, more? Was she willing to stand around waiting for him to make up his mind? Was she willing to try to prove herself worthy of his love? His trust?

  But did she have the strength to let him go? She didn’t think so. Maybe the solution was to give him a little time to get used to having someone in his life again. After all that he’d suffered, was that such a big ask? In a month—or two or three—she could reevaluate, see whether he’d made any progress in the trust department. That was fair, wasn’t it?

  Jaci had the niggling thought that she was conning herself, that she was delaying the inevitable, but when she heard the sound of a car pulling up outside she pushed out her doubts and jumped to her feet, a huge smile blossoming.

  “He’s here!” she squealed, running to the edge of the railing and leaning over to catch a glimpse of the car rolling up the drive. Her face fell when she recognized Clive’s vintage Jaguar. She pouted. “Damn, it’s Clive.”

  Merry caught Priscilla’s eye. “Music to my ears,” she said, sotto voce.

  Priscilla smiled and nodded. “Mine, too.”

  Eleven

  Ryan, parking his rental car in the driveway of Lyon House, felt as if he had a rope around his neck and barbed wire around his heart. He looked up at the ivy-covered, butter-colored stone house and wondered which window on the second floor was Jaci’s bedroom. The one with frothy white curtains blowing in the breeze? It would have been, he thought, a lot easier if they’d spent the night having sex instead of talking. Sex, that physical connection, he knew how to deal with, but talking, exposing himself? Not so much.

  If he wanted to snow himself, he supposed he could try to convince himself that he’d told her about Ben and Kelly’s deception, their betrayal, as a quid pro quo for her telling him about her disastrous engagement to Horse-face. But he’d had many women bawl on his shoulder while they told him their woes and he’d never felt the need to return the favor.

  Jaci, unfortunately, could not be lumped into the masses.

  Ryan leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. What a week. In his effort to treat her like a flash-in-the-pan affair, he’d kept his distance by putting the continent between them, but he’d just made himself miserable. He’d missed her. Intensely. His work and the drive and energy he gave it made his career his primary focus, but he’d had only half his brain on business this past week. Not clever when so much was at stake.

  He had to make a decision about what to do with her, about her, soon. He knew that she wasn’t the type to have a no-strings affair. Her entire nature was geared to being in a steady relationship, to being committed and cared for. She was paying lip service to the idea of a fling but sooner or later her feelings would run deeper... His might, too.

  He’d put his feelings away four years ago, and he didn’t like the fact that Jaci had the ability to make him feel more, be more, made him want to be the best version of himself, for her. She was becoming too important and if he was going to walk, if he was going to keep his life emotionally uncomplicated, then he had to walk away now. He couldn’t sleep with her again because every time they had sex, every moment he had with her, with every word she spoke, she burrowed further under his skin. He had to act because his middle ground was fast disappearing.

  Ryan picked up his wallet and mobile from the console and opened his door on a large sigh. It was so much easier to remain single, he thought. His life had been so uncomplicated before Jaci.

  Boring, admittedly, but uncomplicated. Ryan turned to close the car door and saw Jaci’s father turning the corner to walk up the steps. “Morning, Archie,” he said, holding out his hand for Jaci’s father to shake. “Have you seen Jaci?”

  Archie, vague about anything that didn’t concern his newspaper or world news, thought for a moment. “In her room, with the politician,” he eventually said.

  Blood roared through Ryan’s head. “Say what?” he said, sounding as if he was being strangled. What the hell did that mean? Had Whips and Chains spent the night? With Jaci?

  What the...

  “Ryan!”

  Ryan looked up as Jaci’s slim figure walked out of the front door of Lyon House, her ex close on her heels. He had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and his hand on Jaci’s back, and he sent Ryan a look that screamed Yeah, I did her and it was fantastic, dude. Ryan clenched his fist as Jaci skipped down the stairs. He could watch her forever, he thought, as she approached him with a smile on her face that lit her from the inside out. God, she was beautiful, he thought. Funny, smart, dedicated. Confident, sexy and, finally, starting to realize who she was and her place in the world.

  Clive greeted Archie as he walked back into the house, then he kissed Jaci’s cheek, told her to give him a call and walked toward his car. Jaci stared at Clive’s departing back for more time than Ryan was comfortable with and when she turned to look at him she was—damn, what was the word?—glowing. She looked—the realization felt like a fist slamming into his stomach—soft and radiant, the way she looked after they’d shared confidences, exactly the way she looked after they made love. Her eyes were a gooey brown, filled with emotion. He could read hope there and possibilities and...love. He saw love.

  Except that they hadn’t made love. He hadn’t made love...

  Jesus, no.

  Maybe she had slept with Whips and Chains again, Ryan thought, his mind accelerating to the red zone. It was highly possible; three months ago she’d loved him, was planning to marry him. Those feelings didn’t just disappear, evaporate. He was a politician and he probably talked her around and charmed her back into bed. Had he read too much into whatever he and Jaci had? Had it just been a sexual fling? Maybe, possibly...after all, Jaci hadn’t given him the slightest indication of her desire to deepen this relationship, so was he rolling the wrong credits? They’d slept together a couple of times. For all he knew, she might just regard him as a way to pass some time until her ex came to his senses.

  Did Jaci still love Clive? The idea wasn’t crazy; yeah, the guy was a jerk-nugget, but love didn’t just go away. God, he still loved Ben despite the fact that he’d betrayed him, and a part of him still loved Kelly, even after five years and everything that happened.

  But, God, it stung like acid to think of Jaci and Clive in bed, that moron touching her perfect body, pulling her back into his life. He’d shared a woman before and he would never do it again. Ryan felt the bile rise up in his throat and he ruthlessly choked it down. God, he couldn’t be sick, not now.

  Feeling sideswiped, he looked down and noticed that his mobile, set to silent, was ringing. He frowned at the unfamiliar number on the screen. Thinking that taking the call would give him some time to corral his crazy thoughts, he pushed the green button and lifted the phone to his ear.

  “Jax? This is Jet Simons.”

  Ryan’s frown deepened. Why would Simons, the slimiest tabloid writer around, be calling him and how the hell did he get his number? He considered disconnecting, blowing him off, but maybe there was a fire he needed to put out. “What the hell do you want? And how did you get my number?”

  “I have my sources. So, I hear that you and Jaci Brookes-Lyon think that Leroy Banks is a slimy troll and that you two are pretending to be in a relationship to keep him sweet. What did you two call him, ‘Toad of Toad Hall’?”

  Ryan’s eyes flew to Jaci’s face. The harsh swear left his mouth, and only after it was out did he realize that i
t, in itself, was the confirmation Simons needed.

  “No comment,” he growled, wishing he could reach through the phone and wrap his hand around Simons’s scrawny neck. Strangling Jaci was an option, too. She was the only person who used that expression. He sent her a dark look and she instinctively took a step back.

  “So is that a yes?” Simons persisted.

  “It’s a ‘no comment.’ Who did you get that story from?” Ryan rested his fist against his forehead.

  Simons laughed. “I had a trans-Atlantic call earlier. Tell Jaci that you can never trust a politician.”

  “Egglestone is your source?” Ryan demanded, and Simons’s silence was enough of an answer.

  Yep, it seemed that Jaci had shared quite a bit during their pillow talk. Ryan sent her another blistering look, deliberately ignoring her pleading, confused face. Ryan felt the hard, cold knot of despair and anger settle like a concrete brick in his stomach. He remembered this feeling. He’d lived with it for months, years after Ben and Kelly died. God, he wanted to punch something. Preferably Simons.

  He was furiously angry and he needed to stay that way. This was why he didn’t get involved in relationships; it was bad enough that his heart was in a mess and his love life was chaotic. Now it was affecting his business. Where had this gone so damn wrong?

  He hated to ask Simons a damn thing, but he needed to know how much time he had before he took a trip up that creek without a paddle. “When are you running the story?”

  “Can’t,” Simons said cheerfully. “Banks threatened to sue the hell out of my paper if we so much as mentioned his name and my editor killed it. That’s why I feel nothing about giving up my source.”

  “You spoke to Banks?” Ryan demanded. He felt a scream starting to build inside him. This was it, this was the end. His business had been pushed backward and Jaci’s career was all but blown out of the water.