by Mia Caldwell
Ian barked out a laugh. “I’m joking, Jada. I wasn’t testing you. I figured you’d tell me eventually. I understand loyalty to your sister and how you couldn’t know what my reaction would be. I was giving you time. And see? I was right to do it. You’ve told me everything and we can move on.”
“That’s so logical and even-handed, it’s almost ridiculous,” Jada said.
“Thank you, I think.”
“I don’t get it, Ian. I wanted to tell you right away, and I believed Marina was wrong to distrust you. And now here you are telling me that you trusted me, too. Why is that? Why are we trusting each other so easily and quickly? Are you always this way? I’m not.”
“No, I’m not either.”
Jada looked into his eyes and read that he didn’t understand what was happening any more than she did. And she also read that, like her, he didn’t mind not understanding, which also wasn’t common for either of them.
She considered the idea that being with Ian was meant to be, that in a cosmic sense he’d been intended for her all along, and that’s why she was still single and why she’d never been serious about a man before, and ... it was meant to be. She almost said it out loud. Almost. Then she returned to her senses.
“So anyway,” she said briskly, intent on changing the subject, “you know all about Marina then. Good. I’m glad Elly told you, actually. You’ve already had time to think about everything. Who’s tops on your whodunnit suspect list now? We think it has to be one of Sasha’s enemies. We’ve narrowed it down to three models with grudges.”
“That’s interesting. But you’re wrong. I know exactly who did this and why.”
“You do? How? When did you find out? Why haven’t you told me?” Jada’s mind whirled.
“Well, it’s not one hundred percent certain yet, but it will be by tomorrow morning.” His confidence was persuasive. “CGTV invented this story, made it up. They’ve been ducking our requests for a copy of the marriage license, and the reason why is simple—they don’t have one. When the Springers Glen courthouse opens up tomorrow, my people will be there getting proof that there never was a marriage license. Then CGTV will pay for thinking they could get away with something as outrageous as this.”
“Wow. I mean, not that you shouldn’t make them pay. You should. I mean wow, that makes so much sense. Do you really think they’d make up something like this? About someone as powerful as you? I don’t see how they’d think they could get away with it.”
“Tattletale presses lie plenty. If there isn’t a real scandal to sell their product, they make one up. Truth or fiction, they’ve got sales quotas to make.”
“I get that. Why aren’t they constantly being sued?”
“Most of us in the public eye simply let it go or we threaten legal action until they retract the story and we leave it at that. Also, there are a lot of people out there who know that any press, good or bad, helps careers that rely on celebrity, so they don’t complain as long as it doesn’t go too far.”
“Do you think this story has gone too far?” she asked.
“I do. I might have let it go, merely threatened them until they publicly retracted it, allowed them to claim that a clerical error caused a misunderstanding. You’d be surprised how many supposed clerical errors there are.”
“A ton.”
“Yes. A damned incompetent profession as a whole if celebrity gossip presses are to be believed. Anyway, I might have let this go, but when they attacked you so viciously, they crossed the line. You aren’t a public figure and they should know better. I promise you, Jada, they’ll pay for what they’ve done and for any damage they might have caused you moving forward.”
Warmth built in Jada’s chest. “It’s okay, Ian. I’m okay. I don’t think they’ve done any permanent damage.” She could hardly ask her next question from fear of his answer. “Do you?”
“I hope not. I don’t think so, not yet. But it was a nasty attack, and I don’t understand why they did it. It can’t be allowed to stand. It’s not right.”
She nodded. She’d been trying not to think about the impact this would have on her future, pushing her concerns aside while she still could. But Ian had been thinking about it for her, hadn’t he? She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
“It’s a lot to take in,” she said. “You’re sure CGTV made everything up?”
“I am.”
“Marina’s going to be disappointed. She’s spent all day trying to get hold of those models’ agents, but they haven’t answered her, probably because of the holiday. All that frustration for nothing ... except, it kind of serves her right. She wouldn’t have had the trouble if she’d just let me tell you everything yesterday.”
“Good point,” he said. “But I can see her side of things. She doesn’t know me, after all.”
“And maybe you’re some crazy, overly-rich egomaniac who goes ballistic when someone crosses you.”
The side of his mouth quirked. “You are truly naive, the pair of you.”
“Wealthy people are never egomaniacs ... I see. Ha!”
“No. Not that. You’re right about that. Not about me, but in general. Still, that’s not what I meant. I meant you’re naive to think that anyone could be overly-rich.”
She laughed. “Silly me.”
“Exactly.”
She glanced around the spectacular, sparkling room and let the scents of the candles and the music fill her senses. “What you’ve done here makes a convincing argument in your favor. This is incredible.”
“I’m glad you like it. Now, are we through with our confessions? Do you have anything else to tell me? Have you been fibbing about liking Mrs. Best’s cooking or something equally as shocking?”
“Nope. My conscience is clear.”
“Wonderful. Mine, too.” He stood up, bent down slightly and held out his hand. “Then may I, finally, have this dance?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
And they swept out onto the dance floor like the fairy tale prince he was, and the fairy tale princess she’d never believed she could be.
Chapter Seven
IAN DIDN’T WANT THE MUSIC to stop. Jada fit in his arms so perfectly, he never wanted to let her go. He guided her around the dance floor, entranced with her lightness, the intuitive way she followed his lead, her grace and style.
Her perfume jumbled his senses and her soft hair tickled his cheek. She’d worn her hair down again, curly and half-wild, and he wanted to think she’d done it for him, because he liked it that way. Surely, she had done it for him.
Dance after dance, they lost themselves in a dreamy other-world, where they were the stars in a scene from a classic love story which would culminate in his bedroom, on his big bed that had been empty of the beautiful Jada Howarth for far too long.
Soon, the final act would begin and he’d twirl her out the door, down the hall, and carry her up the stairs. Soon. One more dance. Just one more.
A buzzing sound broke into the dream. Was it coming from the string quartet on the dais? No, it was closer than that. Buzz. Buzz. Like a phone. He’d turned his phone off. Jada shifted in his arms, pulled backward and they stopped in the middle of the dance floor.
“Sorry,” she said, her delicate brows furrowing. “I forgot to turn off my phone.”
She slipped her hand into a small pocket hidden on the side of her full skirt. Ian hadn’t even realized the pocket was there. Jada pulled out her phone, glanced at it, touched the screen then tucked it back in her pocket.
“Who was it” Ian asked.
“Nobody. It’s fine. Never mind.”
“You had a look on your face when you saw it. Who was it?”
“My parents.”
Inside, he asked, “Why me?” Outside, he told Jada, “You should call them back.”
“No way,” she said. “They’re not interrupting us again. Whatever they want, it can wait.”
“Probably, but we don’t know that for sure. What if it’s important
?”
“If it’s important, they’ll send a text.”
He enjoyed a moment’s hope. “Okay then.”
“Except,” Jada said with a sheepish expression, “they usually don’t think about texting. It’s a generational thing, I guess.”
“Call them back so your mind’s at ease. I don’t know about you, but I could use a break anyway, and a drink. Would you like one?”
She smiled, her sexy lips so plump and kissable he could hardly restrain himself. “Thanks.”
She followed Ian over to a small bar that had been set up for the evening in one corner of the room. While he put together some refreshments that had been pre-prepared by Mrs. Best, Jada sat down nearby and called her parents. He couldn’t help but overhear her side of the conversation.
She asked if everything was okay and Ian was pleased to hear her relief, which must mean everything was fine. She was quiet for a long while, obviously listening. She sighed quietly several times, making Ian grin and sneak the occasional look at her long-suffering expression.
“Why are you in Springers Glen?” she asked loudly, sounding surprised. “I told you to stay away because of the press.” There was a pause. “Since when do you care about decorating family graves for Memorial Day?” Pause. “I don’t know. Sounds fishy to me.” Pause. “No, Dad, I’m not calling you liars. Bending the truth-ers. That’s what I’m calling you.” Pause. A big sigh.
Ian handed her a glass of champagne punch, one of Mrs. Best’s creations. Jada accepted it and closed her eyes as she took a long drink. Ian sat down beside her and sipped his own.
“I’m fine,” she said, opening her eyes again. “Everything is fine. You don’t need to be here. I have it on the best authority everything will be straightened out tomorrow.” Pause. “Ian. Ian is the authority. Who else would it be?” Pause. An alarmed expression washed over her face. “No. Not going to happen. Forget it.” A longer pause. Jada shook her head. “I’m telling you no. There’s no reason for it.”
Ian had a hard time pretending he wasn’t listening in and wondered what had her so concerned.
Jada’s mouth thinned into a straight line. “I’m a full-grown woman and I don’t need your interference. Mom, make him back off.” Pause. Pause again. “I love you, too, but it’s not going to happen.”
Ian couldn’t restrain himself any longer. He touched her arm and raised his eyebrows in an “is everything okay” gesture.
Jada covered her phone. “My father wants to talk to you.”
“I don’t mind speaking to him.”
“No way. He’s going to pull the overprotective father crap on you like you’re a teenage boy taking me to the prom. Forget it. He can just get over his old self.”
She only made Ian more curious about the man who’d sired and raised someone like Jada. “I really don’t mind.”
“Well, I mind it,” she said.
She uncovered the phone and said, “Dad, I’m fine. That’s the end of it. Mom, I’m going to hang up now.” Pause. “I’m going to hang up. I am.” Pause. “You’re driving me crazy.”
Ian stifled a laugh. “Let me talk to him,” he said.
“You don’t have to.” Pause. “No, Dad, I was talking to Ian. He said he wants to talk to you.” Pause. “Fine. You two can work it out.”
She held the phone out to Ian pinched between two fingers, like she’d dug it out of a pile of something unsavory. “I won’t be held responsible for the man, just so you know.”
“Understood,” Ian said, taking the phone. “Hello? Mr. Howarth? This is Ian Buckley.”
The voice resonated deeply in the speaker. “Nice to meet you, young man. I’m Jada’s father, Montpelier Howarth. I’d—”
A bright and cheerful woman’s voice broke in. “And I’m her mother, Kenya. We’re on speaker phone. I think you’re supposed to tell people? When you’re on speaker phone?”
“I think so,” Ian said. “Thank you. And it’s nice to meet you both, Mr. and Mrs. Howarth.”
“Oh, call me Kenya,” Jada’s mother said. “And you can call him Monty. We all do.”
“We all do not call me that,” Jada’s father said. “Mr. Howarth will do fine ... for now.”
Ian understood what wasn’t said. He’d be Mr. Howarth until Ian passed muster. Seemed reasonable enough to Ian. “So, Mr. Howarth, you wished to speak to me about something?”
“Indeed I did. I wanted to make sure you aren’t taking advantage of my daughter. She’s in a vulnerable place and—”
“Monty!” Kenya broke in. “I can’t believe you said that. Ian, dear, don’t listen to him. He’s a caveman sometimes.”
“Dammit, Kenya, don’t gainsay me. I have a duty as a father to protect my daughter, and I’m going to do that duty.”
“She’s a grown woman and can take care of herself,” Kenya said. “Ignore my husband, Ian. He’s ... hey, what are you doing? Monty, don’t pick up that phone, you’ll mess—”
There was a click and then a change in the tonal quality, less hissing on the line and when Jada’s father spoke again, his voice was clearer. Ian could hear Kenya speaking in the background, but he couldn’t make out what she was saying.
“We are no longer on speaker phone, Ian,” Mr. Howarth said. “Now, man-to-man, I hope you realize the position my daughter is in. She’s on unfamiliar ground, and overwhelmed by it, though she’ll never show it on the outside. She’s stubborn that way, like her mother.”
“I see,” Ian said.
Jada mouthed silently, “What is he saying?”
Ian held up a hand and gave her a reassuring smile to take the sting out of his telling her to wait. Jada didn’t look impressed, but she didn’t argue either.
Jada’s father continued. “And because of all that, it wouldn’t be right for a man to take advantage of the situation when he’s got Jada all alone in a fancy house, showing off his wealth, and her being vulnerable and open to suggestion because of the stress she’s under.”
All alone? The man had no idea how completely not alone they were. And Jada open to suggestion? Unlikely.
“Yes, sir,” Ian said. “I assure you that I would never want to harm Jada in any way. I respect her completely.”
“Harm me?” Jada squeaked. “What is he saying to you? Dad,” she called out, leaning toward the phone, “What are you telling Ian?”
“Ignore her,” Mr. Howarth said. “The bottom line is this, Buckley. You’re a powerful, wealthy man, and men like you are used to getting everything you want. I know I can’t stop you from pursuing my daughter if that’s what you’re determined to do. However, I think we could reach a compromise.”
Ian couldn’t have been more curious. “Go on.”
“I’d like your word that you won’t put my daughter in a compromising position until this affair is settled, until everything is straightened out and Jada has a clear mind to go about making decisions properly. What do you say?”
Ian only hesitated for a moment before answering, “Agreed. You have my word.”
“Good, excellent,” Mr. Howarth said, surprise evident in his tone. “I expected you to argue.”
“No reason to. You’re absolutely right.”
“Good, good.”
“So if there’s nothing else, I’ll hand you back over to Jada. She’s asking for the phone.”
“Uh, well ...” for the first time, Jada’s father sounded less than assured, “... that’s okay. I think we’ve covered everything. Tell her we’ll talk to her tomorrow. She said you plan on sorting everything out then, correct?”
“Yes, sir. I have every reason to believe our mystery will be solved by lunchtime.”
“Good, good. Then goodnight, and thank you for being reasonable.”
“Yes, sir. It’s been my pleasure. Goodnight to you, too. And to Kenya.”
The line went dead and Ian ended the call. “Your father said goodnight and he’d talk to you tomorrow.”
She didn’t look pleased, but she slipped the phone i
n her pocket. “So what did he say? He didn’t tell you about his shotgun, did he? He used to do that to my dates in high school. That’s why I stopped bringing guys home.”
“No, nothing about a gun.”
“So, then ...”
“So he asked me not to try to seduce you until our fake marriage fiasco is sorted out.”
“He what?” she half-yelled. “That’s a load of—”
Ian interrupted. “Just a second.” He glanced over at the four musicians on the dais who were taking a break from playing. “Thank you,” he said to them. “You played beautifully. That will be all for tonight. Our chef has some refreshments prepared for you in the kitchen. Lydia’s in the hall and will show you the way.”
He and Jada waited while the two men and two women made their way out of the room. Ian followed them to the door and locked it behind them.
Jada walked over and stopped, hands on hips. “Am I to understand that you gave my father your word that you wouldn’t sleep with me tonight?”
“Yes. That’s what I did.”
“I can’t believe it. That’s so wrong I don’t even know where to begin explaining it. I’m not an underage girl who can’t look out for herself. And neither one of you are my keeper. What a load of crap.” She threw her hands in the air. “I’ve got no use for either of you right now.”
Jada was just getting started. Ian saw it all over her. He couldn’t blame her for not liking what had happened. Hell, he wasn’t all that thrilled with it either, but what was done was done.
And then there was the old cliché of a woman looking sexy when she was angry. It certainly was true of Jada. Her dark eyes flashed in the candlelight, and her chest stuck out, a pleasing result of her indignation. With her curly hair framing her face, backlit like an out-of-control halo, she was an avenging angel calling the devil to task. And Ian was the devil. Damn.
She simply didn’t understand how it was with men. It was his job to explain it.
“Unlock that door. I’m leaving,” she said. “I’ve got to find Ms. Kitty because come hell or high water, I’m not sleeping alone tonight and I guess a cat is all I’m gonna get!”