by Tawna Fenske
The doors swished open, and Kate ushered Amy inside. She didn’t speak again until the doors slammed shut, and the elevator began to rise.
“There’s nothing we can do,” Kate said, struggling to keep her voice even. “Not without risking our jobs. Hell, risking the whole show. You know what our contracts say. We practically signed them in blood.”
“I know, but—”
“Amy.” Kate swallowed, hating this as much as Amy did, but knowing there was no way around it. “Do you remember the clause about fines? The dollar amount we agreed to pay if we ever got caught releasing protected information?”
Amy bit her lip. “It was something like a million dollars,” she said. “But I can’t believe they’d actually—”
“Believe it. They’d hit you with a suit before you got six words out, and then where would we both be?”
Amy didn’t say anything after that. Kate’s stomach twisted into a knot of sour energy. It was possible that hunger was to blame for some of it. She’d grabbed half a turkey wrap at noon, but nothing else for more than eight hours. The thought of ordering room service again made her stomach stir with disappointment, and she longed for a home-cooked meal. That was ridiculous. She didn’t cook, and the last home-cooked meal she’d had had been at Amy’s house months ago.
“Something smells amazing,” Amy said as they stepped out of the elevator.
That’s when Kate realized her fantasy dinner wasn’t only in her head. Someone in one of the rooms along their hallway must have ordered something delicious. It smelled like spiced meat and a hint of honeyed cornbread like her grandmother used to make.
“I wonder where they ordered that.” Kate sniffed the air, feeling like a grizzly bear. “I’ll check the menu folder in the room. Want to join me?”
“Don’t tempt me. I promised myself I’d hit the gym for at least an hour.”
“Suit yourself,” Kate said as she turned the corner and drew out her key card.
That’s when she spotted him. Jonah was sitting in the hallway beside her room with his back against the wall. His legs were stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. Beside him on the floor was a canvas bag bulging with Tupperware containers.
He looked up as they approached and gave them each a slow smile. “Ladies.” He got to his feet and hefted the bag in front of him. “I brought dinner. Jossy’s famous white chicken chili. She’s dying to know how the footage turned out but was too nervous to see it in person. I’ve been sent with a bribe and a plea to get the first look.”
“Jonah.” Kate flashed back to her conversation with Amy in the elevator and said a prayer of thanks that she and Amy had stopped talking before they’d stepped out onto the ninth floor. Even if they’d revealed something by accident, they could still be held liable.
“You did say the clips were being sent at eight, right?” He glanced at his watch, then back at her. “I thought about calling first, but I was afraid you’d say no, and Jossy’s really dying to hear details.” He gave the bag a little shake and grinned. “There’s enough here for all of us. Did I mention Jossy makes the best chili on the planet?”
Beside her, Amy gazed at the bag with intense longing. She gave a heavy sigh and shook her head. “Thanks, but I have to take a rain check. I’ve blown off the gym all week. If I don’t go now, I’ll never make it.”
“We’ll save some for you.” Jonah’s gaze swung to Kate. “How about you? I have it on good authority that cornbread and homemade chili go great with this sour brown ale from New Belgium Brewing.”
Kate’s stomach growled loudly enough to serve as a reply, which saved her the trouble of finding her words right that moment. Jonah laughed and held out the bag of food. “Here. You’re welcome to just stick your face in the bowl.”
“Jonah.” She stopped there, torn between telling him how glad she was to see him, how grateful for the meal, how desperate to tell him all the things she couldn’t possibly say.
Oh my God, I slept with a married man.
The thought hit her like a kick between the shoulder blades. For some reason it hadn’t registered until right that moment. Not in those words, anyway. She’d been wrapped up in the details of the show and Viv’s announcement.
You slept with a married man who doesn’t know he’s married, she reassured herself. And who has no idea his ex-wife wants him back.
She swallowed hard, wishing she could say something, knowing she couldn’t, hating the way this was all going to play out.
But deep down, she knew she couldn’t say no to a few precious hours alone with him before this whole thing blew up.
“Come on,” she said, stepping forward to slide her key card into the slot. “For the record, I can always be bribed with food.”
Kate sat across from him at her little hotel table, each of them shoveling up spoonful after spoonful of fragrant chili. She reached out, and for a second Jonah thought she was trying to hold his hand. But no, she was just grabbing another piece of cornbread.
It was the first time in Jonah’s life he’d felt jealous of food.
“So what did you think?” Kate asked, nodding at the laptop. “It’s still a little choppy around the forty-second mark, and obviously we’ll have to cut a lot in the shorter clips for TV. But that should play great with the YouTube crowd.”
Jonah set down his beer, wrapping both hands around the bottle as he looked at Kate. “That was terrific. You’re really talented.”
“Please. I hardly did anything. It was all Pete and the guys in post-production. And you and Jossy, of course.”
“You, too. It’s your vision, Kate. Don’t sell that short.”
“It’s a team effort,” she conceded.
He watched as she broke off another big hunk of cornbread and swirled it around in her big bowl of chili. She put the whole thing in her mouth and chewed, closing her eyes in bliss.
“This is so good.”
“Jossy does that,” he said, and watched as she opened her eyes again. “She can’t eat any kind of soup without dipping something in it.”
Kate grinned and broke off another piece. “I think your sister and I are kindred spirits.”
“Actually, I think you’re onto something.” He took another sip of beer, enjoying the cool tart of the ale and the warm sweetness of Kate’s company and the pleasant way those two things mingled. “She hasn’t stopped talking about you.”
“Your sister?”
“Yeah. She asked if it was too late to trade me in and have you as a sibling instead.”
Kate laughed. “That’s sweet.”
“That’s Jossy. She either loves you or hates you. There’s not much in between.”
He watched as Kate seemed to hesitate. She sat poised with her cornbread above the bowl, but didn’t take a bite. “Did she and Viv get along well?”
“They didn’t fight, if that’s what you mean.”
“It wasn’t exactly what I meant. I guess I was just curious if they were close.”
“Not close,” he said. “I know you’re the president of the Dr. Vivienne Brandt fan club, but my sister—”
“Not so much?” Kate took a bite of cornbread.
“She used to call her Snobby McBitcherson.”
Kate laughed, then started choking on cornbread crumbs. Jonah stood up and whacked her on the back a few times, grateful for any excuse to touch her.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine. God, I’m such a jerk. I shouldn’t laugh at other people’s expense. That’s karma right there.”
“Cornbread karma?”
“Exactly.” She set the cornbread down and picked up her bottle of beer.
Jonah watched her drink, relishing the pleasure on her face. He flashed on a memory of that same look in a different setting. Kate naked and arching beneath him, crying out as he drove into her.
God, he wanted her again. Maybe when this stupid show was all over—
“We haven’t really talked beyond the fi
rst season,” he said, picking up his beer again. “You said before that the first season would be fourteen episodes, but what happens after that?”
“If the show is a success?” Kate shrugged and dunked another piece of cornbread in her bowl. “We hope for as many seasons as we can get.”
“What’s normal?”
“It’s anyone’s guess, really. But you look at shows like Survivor or The Bachelor that have been going for twenty or thirty seasons—that’s what everyone hopes for.”
Jonah felt a sick twist in his stomach. Is that really what everyone hoped for?
Then he thought about the money. About what cash like that could buy for Jossy. Even if he only did the first season or two, maybe that would be enough.
He took another sip of beer, considering the options. “Do characters sometimes leave after a couple of seasons?”
Kate lifted one brow and chewed. “You’re thinking of quitting before we get started?”
“Just wondering how things usually work. If characters shift around much on a reality-TV show like this.”
She studied him a moment, then nodded. “Sometimes,” she said carefully. “Are you not happy with the way things are going?”
“It’s fine,” he said, not sure how much more he should say. “You guys are great. The whole crew has been terrific to work with. It’s just—I guess I never really imagined myself on TV.”
“Is it the television aspect you don’t like, or the part about working with your ex?”
He shrugged. “Working with Viv hasn’t been that bad,” he said. “I have to admit, I’ve remembered some of the things I liked about her.”
Was it his imagination, or did something change in her expression? She covered it quickly, taking a slow sip of beer. Maybe he’d imagined it. Or maybe she was just happy to have him not bitching about Viv. He should probably do more to be a team player. To assure Kate he didn’t see his ex-wife as the antichrist.
“What sort of things?” Kate asked with such practiced casualness, he suspected it was forced.
“We had a good chemistry,” he said. “We made each other laugh. I remember this one time we went camping in Utah.”
“Utah?”
“Mesa Verde,” he said. “Viv wanted to see the Anasazi ruins, so we spent a week backpacking around the area.”
“Right, I remember. She wrote about that in On the Other Hand. The reverence she felt crawling around the prehistoric cliff dwellings. It sounded like a great trip.”
Jonah felt a flare of frustration he couldn’t explain. It wasn’t like he hadn’t consented to have his vacations, his conversations, his life turned into a self-help book.
But he’d always wanted to hold a few things back.
“It was a great trip,” he agreed. “I think my favorite part was this day it rained for like six hours. We couldn’t leave the tent at all.”
“I’m not sure I want to hear this,” Kate murmured as she took a sip of beer.
“It’s not what you’re thinking,” he said. “Not exactly, anyway. We just stayed in the tent all day and made up silly games.”
“Like what?”
“Like we tried to come up with a body part for every letter of the alphabet,” he said. “Whoever came up with an answer had to kiss that part on the other person’s body. It’s not as sexy as it sounds—A for ankle, B for brain, C for collarbone—that sort of thing.”
Kate laughed, though Jonah could have sworn he saw a flash of sadness in her eyes. “Some of those must have been tough,” she said. “What did you do for X and U?”
“Viv got xiphoid process,” he said. “She took a lot of anatomy classes in college.”
“What’s that?”
“Breastbone,” he said, tapping his knuckles against his own sternum. “I tried to convince her to kiss my uvula.”
“I’m afraid to ask,” Kate said. “My anatomy knowledge is a little rusty.”
“The little dangly part at the back of the throat.”
“Ick.”
Jonah laughed and scooped up a spoonful of chili. “We settled for a peck on the ulna,” he said. “That’s the bone in the forearm.”
“Sounds like you had fun together,” Kate said. There was a wistfulness in her tone. “Why didn’t you include that in the book?”
“I didn’t want to,” he said. “I liked the idea of holding a few things back. Keeping some things private, just the two of us.”
“That sounds like real intimacy.”
“I suppose so,” he said.
“Do you miss it?”
He noticed she said it, not her, and he sensed it was a deliberate choice. That it was the latter she really wanted to ask about. “I miss intimacy sometimes,” he said. “Having someone to curl up with in bed at night, talking until we both fall asleep.”
She looked at him oddly. “So what if you could have that again? If you could have it all back?”
“I will. Someday, I mean.”
Kate swirled a hunk of bread in her bowl and didn’t meet his eyes. “With Viv?”
“Christ, no!” That came out a little harsher than he meant it to, and Kate gave him a startled look. Reminding himself to tread carefully, Jonah dialed it back a notch. “She’s a terrific person, don’t get me wrong. I’m sure she’ll find someone else someday. Someone who’s not me.”
“Oh.” Kate took a sip of beer, making it tough for him to read her expression. “I guess that’s—good. For both of you. Right?”
He picked up a piece of cornbread and studied her face. “Why do you keep asking about that?”
“About what?”
“About Viv and me? About whether there’s any chance we’d ever rekindle things?”
“No reason.” She held his gaze, but something in it seemed off. He wasn’t sure what, but he had a sense she was hiding something.
“As a TV producer, I’m supposed to ferret out the stories,” she added.
“There’s no story there.”
“Still. I’m supposed to ask tough questions.”
“That’s not a very tough one. Try again.”
“What?”
“I mean, asking whether I’d ever get back with Viv is like asking whether I think I’ll ever give up the bookstore and join the circus. Did I mention I hate clowns?”
She smiled a little at that and took a sip of beer. “So what’s an actual tough question?”
“Something important. Something thought-provoking.”
Kate dabbed a cornbread crumb off the edge of her plate and licked it off her finger. “Example?”
He thought about it. “Like if I had to drink eight ounces of someone else’s saliva, whose saliva would I choose?”
Kate laughed, and Jonah admired the faintest hint of a dimple on her left cheek. God, she was beautiful.
“That’s your idea of a tough question?” Kate asked.
“You’ve gotta admit, it’s a difficult one. Do you go with a family member or a lover? Considering how much tonsil hockey a couple might play over a lifetime, you probably do consume about a cup of saliva, if you really think about it.”
She gave him a pained look, but she was still smiling. “I’d rather not think about it.”
“Okay, here’s another tough question,” he said. “If you could give one person in the world the biggest, most uncomfortable wedgie imaginable, who would you pick and why?”
“This is a real question?” She seemed to consider it, though, twirling her beer bottle on the table as she watched it with a thoughtful look. “John Peckenham.”
“Who’s John Peckenham?”
“My boyfriend when I was twelve years old. He broke up with me at recess and then told everyone I kissed like a goldfish. For months afterward, everyone went around making fish faces at me.”
“If it’s any comfort, you don’t kiss like a goldfish.”
“Thank you.” She grinned. “I’ve had time to practice.”
Jonah desperately wanted to ask for a demonstration but
knew they shouldn’t start down that path again. Even if they wanted to. Even if he desperately, urgently wanted to touch her just one more time—
“Okay, here’s another tough question,” he said. “What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever done in front of a mirror?”
She laughed and grabbed another piece of cornbread. “I’ve read Our Bodies, Ourselves. I’m not ashamed to admit I straddled that mirror like a pro and figured out what was what. I think I was in college.”
Jonah laughed, not wanting to admit how sexy he found that image. “How very enlightened of you.”
“I try.” Kate nibbled and looked thoughtful. “My turn to ask one.”
“Fire away.”
She scrunched up her face the way she always did when she was pondering something. Jonah wanted to reach out and trace a finger over the lines in her forehead.
“Tell me the most embarrassing thing your parents have caught you doing,” she said at last.
“Trying to stick my dick in the vacuum cleaner,” he answered without hesitation. Kate’s look of surprise made him think he should have hesitated just a little. “I was eleven or twelve years old and had just learned what a blow job was. Suffice it to say, it didn’t work out well for me.”
“Oh my God! Did you get hurt?”
“No. But I did require a little outside assistance to extricate myself.”
Kate burst out laughing, shaking her head as she smeared her bread through the last of her chili. “You’re nuts.” She snorted and popped the bite into her mouth. “No pun intended.”
“I haven’t done it recently,” he pointed out. “I am capable of learning from my mistakes.”
“I’m sure you are. I didn’t mean to sound judgmental.”
“Now you have to volunteer your own sexual mishap,” he said. “While we’re on the subject.”
He expected her to balk or change the subject. But she surprised him. “Anton—that was my last boyfriend—”
“I know,” Jonah said, biting back a flare of jealousy he knew he wasn’t entitled to. “You’ve mentioned that a few times.”
“Right, of course. Sometimes he’d text me in the middle of the day and ask me to send him a sexy pic.”