by Malone, Nana
Izzy shook her head. “Again, this is all about you. Poor Jason. You can’t spin this.”
“Is that what the hell you think I’ve been doing?”
“Damn it. You’re going to do what you always do, put on a show.”
“What the fuck? I—”
She put up a hand. “You’ll play the part, Jason. You always do. To the tennis world, you’re this perfect god. To your friends, you’re this consummate party boy. To Nick, you’re the perfect mentor, to me the perfect lover. And now…” She spread her arms. “And now? You want what? You want to be the perfect father? Provider? Which is the real you? You’re such the consummate actor, Jason. I never know what to believe from you.”
“That’s not fair, Izzy. I’ve been exactly the same since you met me.”
“No, Jason, you haven’t. You’ve got this shiny, glossy layer you use to mask who you are.” She stalked into the living room.
Rage contorted his face. “Your damned pride keeps getting in your way, and you’ll never see the truth.”
“And what truth is that?” She stared at him, praying, hoping wishing.
Several beats passed, their breath mingling. “I’m in your life forever now, Izzy. You’re going to have to get used to that.”
Chapter Forty
“Mr. Cartwright, I must say this is most unusual.”
Jason folded his hands to keep from fidgeting. “Judge Robertson, I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me.”
The judge’s usual stern expression softened. “Are you sure you don’t want Miss Connors present as this affects her?”
“No. No. That’s the last thing I want.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Look, last time we met, you asked me to work on visitation and custody and give thought to the best arrangement for Nick.” Jason swallowed around the lump in his throat. He knew what he had to do. What was really best for Nick. Doing the right thing wasn’t easy though.
“As a professional athlete, I can’t provide him the kind of stable environment he needs.”
“You seemed certain about your place in Nicholas’s life. What’s happened to change that?”
He tried to avoid the judge’s shrewd gaze, but eventually gave up the fight and leveled his gaze with the older man’s. “Nothing has changed. I am certain about my position in Nick’s life.” He drew a deep breath. “I’m even more certain about Izzy as a mother. She’s brought him up to be a smart, vibrant, talented kid.”
He sniffed and looked around the judge’s office at the photos of different families on his wall. “I had nothing to do with that. I won’t punish him because I want to be part of his life. He’s old enough to know if he wants to spend time with me.”
Judge Robertson looked down at his papers again. “Would you at least like to think about it? Take another day or two to make this kind of decision.” His worn hands traced over the papers. “This can’t be undone.”
“I know it can’t be undone. And I need no more time. It’s the right thing to do. I’m sure of it.”
Judge Robertson wielded a heavy sigh. “Fair enough, Mr. Cartwright. I’ll process the necessary paperwork for you to sign away custody of your son.”
****
Izzy blew down the highway like the devil was on her trail. Since leaving Judge Robertson’s office, all she could think of was getting to Jason. Elation, confusion, anger, nausea, all warred for top billing in her body.
She swearing as she swerved to avoid a collision with the slow moving truck in front of her, Izzy took the Malibu exit. As she approached Jason’s, uncaring about the voyeuristic paparazzi, she sped past the front gate security with barely a pause.
Jason was on the front steps before she’d even thrown the car in park. “Izzy? What the hell’s the matter?”
Izzy panted as she climbed out of the car. “Jason, I know what you did.” She took a deep breath. “I have no words.”
He gave her a tight smile that resembled more grimace than expression of happiness. “All I want, is for you and Nick to be happy.” Then with a wistful tone, he added, “The little one too.” He gestured them inside, away from nosy eyes.
“Jason, I know how hard it must have been to give up your parental rights.” Her hands itched to touch him, convey her thanks, her relief.
“It was. But it was harder to think about how unhappy Nick would be with me.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I’ll make sure you get back child support for Nick and take care of all the medical bills and child support for the baby.”
“Jason, you don’t need to do that for Nick. I’ve taken care of his education. His college fund is flush.”
He reached for her. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed tight. “Izzy, I want to. I know it can’t have been easy doing it all yourself with no help all these years. At least let me do this.”
She pulled back from him and nodded. “We’ll work out visitation. I want you to have as much access to the kids as you want. It’s important.”
“Thanks.” He smiled. “You’ll take good care of them.” Gone was his usual brash confidence, leaving a shell of vulnerability.
All the love she had for him squeezed at her tear centers and threatened to brim them over. “Thank you. I—I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t thank me, Izzy. We’ve already done enough damage to each other. I don’t think I can take any—”
In a rush, she said, “I love you.” Knowing Jason, she knew she had to qualify it. “I don’t want anything from you. I just needed to tell you. I know you don’t really do the long term relationship thing and it’s fine. But after what you’ve done today, I can’t let you walk away without knowing how I—”
She didn’t get to finish her monologue before hot firm lips pressed to hers, demanding a response. As with every time he touched her, her blood sizzled and popped.
“Izzy, I love you too. I loved you the first time I saw you play. I loved you the moment I walked into your studio the first time. I love you.”
Her blood tap-danced in her veins, and Izzy almost didn’t hear everything he said. “You love me?” He loves me. “I know you don’t really do relationships. I—”
He pulled her against him. “I want to be with you. I want to be part of our children’s lives. See every part of them grow up. Support you. Make love to you every night and every morning. I want it all. What do you think I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks?”
“My stupid pride always gets me in trouble.”
He dipped his head and grazed her lips with his. “Don’t I know it, but I’m willing to hang in there, if you are.”
“You love getting your way, huh, Ace?”
“Always.”
Epilogue
“So, I think I want to go see Sabrina next weekend.”
Izzy turned her attention from the cooing baby in her arms to give Nick a long look. “Are you sure? Do you want me to go with you?”
He shook his head as he tickled his little sister’s feet. Chubby, mocha hands slapped at Izzy’s chest as a gummy smile displayed deep dimples. Nick grinned back. “Nah, it’s okay. I just want to fly up for the day. Get a chance to talk to her.”
Izzy handed Nick the baby as she rifled through one of the bags to hunt for a bottle. The stands at the match didn’t provide much legroom, so she needed both her hands to get what she needed. “If it makes you happy, then that’s all I want.” She blinked away sentimental tears as she watched her oldest child hold her youngest. How in the world had she gotten so lucky?
“You’re not upset?” Worry laced Nick’s words and his brow.
She gave him her most reassuring smile. “You have every right to want to see her and have your questions answered. So, no, I’m not upset.”
“Cool.”
The announcer’s voice reverberated through the stands as the officials on the court prepared for the awards ceremony. “Ladies and gentlemen, allow us to present to you, this year’s Men’s Grand Slam Champion, Jason Cartwright.”
Izzy and Nick stood immediately and clapped like maniacs on speed, determined for their cheering to stand out in the roaring crowds. Baby Kara also clapped chubby hands together beaming a dimpled smile at daddy. As soon as Jason finished shaking hands, he sprinted for the stands and scaled the wall to greet them.
Laughter bubbled in Izzy’s chest as he wrapped her in a drugging kiss. “You’re a loon. You could have hurt yourself scaling the wall like that. I’m going to need my husband in top condition later.”
Teeth nibbling at her lips, he chuckled. “Yes, ma’am. Understood.”
“Do you two have to maul each other like that in public? It’s kind of gross.” Nick’s voice dripped with teenage sarcasm, but his face beamed with pride.
Jason turned his attention to his children, enveloping them in a sweaty bear hug. Planting a slobbering kiss on Nick’s forehead, he laughed as Nick grumbled with embarrassment. “I didn’t want you two to miss out.”
Kara reached her arms out from her brother’s hold, exclaiming, “Da!”
Scooping her up, he whirled to face Izzy. “Did you hear that? She called me Da. Her first word was Da.”
Izzy laughed. She didn’t have the heart to tell him Kara had already started calling Nick, “Ik” over a week ago. “Yeah, I heard her.”
As Izzy surveyed her family, she couldn’t help but think, even though she no longer played tennis, she’d won everything she’d ever wanted, Game, Set and Match.
THE END
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Excerpt from Sexy in Stilettos
by Nana Malone
Chapter One
He looks ready to kill me.
Jaya Trudeaux searched her father’s usually impassive, though now clearly angry, features. Furrowed brows, check. Tight lips, check. Throbbing vein above his left brow accompanied by a slight twitch in the left eye, courtesy of a long ago tango with a door jamb, check and check. Yep, Pierre was pissed.
Jaya dragged her eyes from her father’s glare and focused on the All-Tech Conference selection committee, giving them her best, sweet-girl-next-door meets competent-business woman, meets fellow-nerd smile. This she knew how to do. She understood the client’s needs, what it would take to pull off a conference of their magnitude, and that these guys were more SyFy channel than MTV. They wouldn’t be swayed with a flashy marketing presentation. They wanted someone who understood their world. Too bad it wasn’t the presentation her father wanted her to give.
As Jaya closed, she looked each of the selection committee members in the eye to make the connection. “Trudeaux Events might not have the flash of Starbuck like some of our competitors—” she indicated the placard with their list of competition. They’d all made pitches and most had gone the more flash than substance route. Suckers. “But we understand your needs. And we can meet them.”
Her fellow nerds beamed at her. Maybe it was the Battlestar Galactica reference. Maybe they recognized a kindred soul. Maybe they liked her legs. Either way, Trudeaux Events would certainly make the top two candidates for the conference. As the conference would bring well over twenty thousand attendees to San Diego, it would be a huge boon for the event company to land the business. If they were selected, maybe her father would finally make her an event lead.
As soon as the last handshakes were dealt and Brett James, the president of All-Tech thanked them for their time, Pierre Trudeaux indicated the door. Jaya’s stomach dropped. Well damn. Worst thing was, he had Derrick Cooley, Trudeaux’s VP of Corporate Events, trailing right behind him as they exited the boardroom. This couldn’t be good.
They were probably pissed she hadn’t gone through with their approved presentation. Derrick had pushed for something flashier, wanting to capture the client’s attention, and had refused to listen to her ideas for the presentation. Not to mention he hated her. How the hell she’d ever thought she wanted to marry that asshole was beyond her. She must have been high.
Back stiff, she exited out the closest door and started her explanations before they could get a word in edgewise. “I know that’s not the original presentation you talked about, but I’m uniquely attuned to this market and I feel like—” She didn’t finish. Both of them shot her looks so cold she could feel the icicles forming in her gut.
“In my office, Jaya,” her father said.
This. Was. Not. Good. Okay. Plan B time. She wasn’t above begging. Jaya wanted this client. Needed this client. She’d gone out and recruited this business. It was hers. If they gave the account to Derrick, or worse, to her sister, Tamara, she’d have a fit.
Once in Pierre’s austere office, Jaya settled in one of the guest chairs she knew her father selected deliberately to make people uncomfortable in his presence. Her father took his post behind his desk, looking every bit the authoritarian dictator he wished he were. Derrick remained standing, which gave him that additional position of power. Instead of looking at her, he stared out the window. Prick.
She sucked in a deep breath and marshaled her nerves. Come on gang. Once more with feeling. “Look. I’m sorry. But you saw the client—they don’t care about being the cool kids. They care about authenticity. No offense intended, Derrick, but your presentation would have lost them.” She drew in a breath. “Next time I’ll follow your direction, but clients like this need a plan they can get behind. They’re slow and steady comic-book readers. They don’t care about the latest cool-kid party.”
Derrick didn’t even wait for her father to speak, nor did he face her. “There won’t be a next time, Jaya.”
“What?” Her eyes burrowed on her father’s face. Impassive. But was that really a surprise? “Okay, look, bench me for the next few months if you want, but I’m the best presenter you have. I—”
Derrick turned from his position at the enormous floor to ceiling windows overlooking San Diego’s skyline. “No. Not for a few months. Forever.”
Jaya's anger simmered to life. But instead of its low-grade burn, it roared to five-alarm status. She turned her gaze on her father. “Dad?” Derrick didn’t have the authority to fire her. She still had more shares in the company than he did. Until, of course, he married Tamara.
Her father said nothing for a long moment, the barest hint of exhaustion in his features. “There’s a position in accounting if you would prefer. It would be a better fit. I think—”
Jaya blinked. “Did you just say ‘accounting’? Dad. I’m not an accountant. I’m an event planner. This is who I am.”
He sighed and slid a glance to Derrick. “Then I’m sorry. You leave me no choice. You’re fired.”
A hazy buzzing sound filled her ears as her father’s mouth moved. Disbelief weakened her knees and shock numbed her. So. Not. Happening. Her inner fixer took over from her brain because clearly her grey matter was on vacation.
Sure, she’d deviated a little from the original presentation, but not enough to warrant his firing her. Derrick’s fast and loose presentation would have had their eyes glazing over.
Her father’s voice was tight and low and sounded like gravel being put through a grinder. “We’re trying to move Trudeaux forward. The kinds of clients and presentations we want to do will bring us to the next level. Derrick is right. Since you refuse to keep up, you no longer belong at Trudeaux.”
She would not cry. “I gave a good presentation.” Even as the weak words spilled out, she wondered why she’d bothered. That was it? That was her big flare of rebellion? No wonder her father treated her like Carrot Top’s ugly twin sister. She couldn’t even rebel properly.
Papa Dearest’s eye did the twitch-and-jive routine again. “Good presentation? It would have been great if Derrick or Tamara had done it. They both have the vision. We’ve been preparing for months.” His voice rose by increments.
Tears stung her eyes. This wasn’t real. It was a dream. Absolu
tely. Was. Not. Happening. “I just gave you the presentation of my life. You can’t just fire me.”
When her father spoke again, only the barest hint of his New Orleans accent tinted his baritone. “Jaya, it’s done. You’re too invested. Too stuck in your ways. Like Derrick was saying, we need to move forward.” He cleared his throat, looking momentarily uncomfortable. “This is business, Jaya. I expect you not to be so childish as to skip your sister’s wedding in two weeks. We are still a family.”
Fuck. Family her ass. This was real? Like they were really telling her to pack up her Weitzman’s and bounce? Then expected her at the bloody wedding? Waves of failure and dread braided themselves into a nausea cocktail. She could feel the tension in her neck as if someone was squeezing it tight.
Throat burning from lack of oxygen, she stared at her father. Without a word, he got up from his desk, thin frame moving with a fluidity and grace that belied his age. He left the office with a soft click of his door, Jaya felt more alone than she’d ever felt in her life. Her father had abandoned her.
Derrick spoke and at first Jaya couldn’t hear him for the muffled silencer of dread cocooning her. Through the hazy fog of bitter anger and hazy fear, she noticed his mouth moving. The sound coming in slow and lazy increments, as if it didn’t matter what else he had to say to her.
“Jaya? Jaya, are you listening?”
She blinked up at him, the urge to strike him so strong she could feel her hand twitch of its own volition. Oh, God. She could see the headlines in the Union Tribune. “Angry Black Woman Shoves Ex-Fiancé Through Thirty Story Window.” She forced a breath.
Derrick spoke again. His voice tight and in control. “I’ll have security pack your things and a messenger deliver them to your apartment before week’s end.”
Suddenly too exhausted to breathe, she stood on wobbly legs. “Congratulations. You got what you wanted. Are you happy now?”