No Time Like Mardi Gras

by Kimberly Lang

  Dignity and distance. If she’d learned anything from that three-ring circus Joey had dragged her into, she knew how best to handle this. Do not acknowledge. Do not deny. Everything she said would be held against her, so it was best to say nothing. She forced herself to shrug casually and handed the laptop back to Kelsey.

  “That’s it?” Kelsey asked. “Aren’t you excited that Prince Charming is looking for you?”

  “Not like this, no.” She wanted privacy, not notoriety.

  “At least tell me who he is.”

  She tried to sound casual. “Nobody.”

  “Bull. You ditched me to spend the day with him. You liked him. And I do remember he was pretty damn cute, too.”

  Kelsey had ditched her—mentally at least—long before Colin had come into the picture, but she let that slide. “Look, I really don’t need to go rushing into anything with anyone right now. I’m still finding my feet here.” But Kelsey’s fingers were already flying across the keyboard. There was a flutter of panic in her chest. “You’re not emailing that Callie person, are you?”

  Kelsey paused and grinned over the screen. “Want me to?”

  “No.”

  “Pity. I’m just checking out what other people are saying.”

  “I don’t want to know.” Jamie pushed against the laptop gently, bringing the screen down, but not all the way onto Kelsey’s fingers. “I’m asking you to please just let this go. Don’t tell anyone you know who Cinderella is and let it die down. Believe me when I say that I have my reasons, and simply let it go at that.”

  “But he’s looking for you.”

  “So? Maybe I don’t want to be found.”

  “Did he turn out to be a jerk? Get creepy?”

  Try as she might, she couldn’t lie about it. “No, nothing like that. I just don’t really need for it to be any more than it was.”

  Kelsey huffed. “Well, don’t you at least want your watch back? I remember it’s pretty. Looked expensive, too.”

  The watch had been a gift from Joey, a grand gesture when he’d signed with his first minor-league team and a promise of much nicer things to come, but it didn’t hold any sentimental value to her now. In fact, it seemed more symbolic to just let it go, like a shackle that she’d freed herself from as she started over. “No. I never really liked it anyway.”

  “Well, hell, you could have given it to me,” Kelsey grumbled.

  Kelsey had oohed and ahhed over her clothes and her shoes as she’d unpacked, assuming they were fakes and wanting to know where Jamie shopped to find the “good stuff.” Jamie hadn’t corrected her, not wanting to admit that while she was cash poor, she was wardrobe rich. Tomorrow she’d be wearing a Gucci skirt and her lucky Louboutins while looking for a job that she hoped would pay enough to cover her rent. Oh, the irony.

  Jamie pushed to her feet and packed up her manicure supplies. “I’m going to bed. I have interviews tomorrow.”

  “You’re crazy, you know. You land in town like a refugee and immediately meet a hottie who’s now pining for you. I’ve lived here my whole life and nada. It’s not fair.”

  For the sake of homestead harmony, she had to answer that. “Surely there are some cute doctors at the hospital,” she offered optimistically.

  “You’d think, but sadly, no.”

  She and Kelsey weren’t really friends, so Jamie wasn’t sure whether to provide sympathy or encouragement. And with her background, she certainly wasn’t qualified to offer dating advice of any sort. She went with the lame but true, “Pity.”

  “That it is.”

  “Good night, Kels.”

  While she’d claimed disinterest to Kelsey, now that she was alone in her tiny bedroom, she started to have second thoughts. She’d liked Colin—liked him a lot, actually—and had they not parted so abruptly, she probably would have ended up giving him a phone number and planned to see him again. But in the last week, she’d gotten accustomed to the idea that it was a one-off, and something about it had given her some much-needed confidence.

  And she really didn’t like the fact that their day was now plastered across the internet. It cheapened the whole thing, somehow.

  Last week she’d seen the way they’d parted as a sign from the universe they just weren’t meant to be. She could assume the article was another sign, but it was hard to tell what kind of sign it was. A nudge to get her to contact Colin? Or a very public reminder guaranteed to make her want to stay away?

  She had made so many decisions recently and she was tired of second-and third-guessing herself all the time trying to figure out what to do.

  Fighting the temptation to pull out her laptop and look Colin up online was tough, but she managed to win that battle for the moment. It seemed best to stick with her original plan and let Colin remain a happy memory. Should she change her mind, he’d be easy enough to find.

  Her interview outfit was hanging on the back of her bedroom door. It caused her stomach to knot up, reminding her that she had too much riding on decisions to risk making the wrong one. And she certainly couldn’t afford to let her hormones weigh in on those decisions.

  She had enough on her plate right now. No sense adding more.

  * * *

  He had to give Callie credit: the girl knew how to light a fire. Unfortunately, the flames were getting out of hand.

  It seemed everyone really did love a Cinderella story.

  And he’d never been so glad that he’d never put his name on The Ex Factor. Speculations—on Callie’s blog, the other sites that’d reblogged the story and the sites just commenting on the situation—were that the Ex-Man was Prince Charming.

  And since the Ex-Man had his own email address listed right there on The Ex Factor page, it hadn’t taken too long for his in-box to explode.

  That was how he’d found out about Callie’s article. He’d been tempted to pull down the article—if not the entire site—in retaliation, but that would only feed that speculation that Prince Charming and Ex-Man were one and the same. And it wouldn’t really accomplish much anyway now; the story was already out there, taking on a life of its own.

  No one had come forward with any information about Jamie, but it seemed there were plenty of women ready and willing to take her place in this freaky fairy tale. He had hundreds of messages, pictures, offers—some very scary, possibly-illegal-in-some-states offers—and his in-box probably contained more naked breasts than Bourbon Street on Fat Tuesday.

  If he wanted a date, he had his choice of women.

  It was more than a little mind-blowing. Callie had always insisted that he didn’t look like a typical geek, and he’d long fought against the stereotype, but stereotypes wouldn’t be stereotypes unless they had some truth to them. Women were often interested in him—until he told them what he did, and then they seemed to be put off by the worry he might be into freaky cosplay or quote Yoda to them.

  Added to that was the sheer number of hours he’d spent developing No Quarter while still holding down a job to pay his rent.... Well, there hadn’t been a lot of time available for dating anyway.

  So while he hadn’t lived the life of a monk, he wasn’t exactly master of the dating universe, either. And while he was semi-famous in the gaming community, he wasn’t exactly a celebrity, so the attentions of a horde of women were a little disconcerting.

  Even more so was the fact none of these women knew for certain who he was.

  And even if he did want the attention, now was not a great time. They were less than three weeks away from the release date, and his attention really needed to be on Dungeons of Zhorg.

  Eric was really the face and voice of Rainstorm—he looked the part, a perfect hipster geek who could enthuse with the very best of them, and the true geeks could relate to him better—so the PR was mostly on him. That kept him busy enough that Col
in hadn’t seen him in days while he played the code monkey, troubleshooting and patching. It was a good distribution of labor—and one that he quite liked—but being trapped at his computer made the distraction of his in-box almost too much—like a train wreck he couldn’t not watch.

  If Callie had stopped to think for even a second before plastering his private life across the internet—however pseudoanonymously—she’d have realized her little article had the potential to turn into a freakin’ circus. And she, probably more than anyone, knew how much he hated the chaos. She’d been there in some of the worst times, when his mom was so depressed she couldn’t get out of bed or so manic she was bouncing off the walls, and he’d been left wandering through the rubble. She’d been the one to pull him out of his games and back into the real world, giving moral support as he tried to get it all under control.

  So the fact she’d intentionally created chaos in his personal life—especially at a time when he had plenty on his plate already.... Well, obviously she hadn’t thought it through—or else she simply didn’t care anymore and would do anything to bring publicity to her blog.

  They were supposedly friends these days, but with friends like that...Jesus.

  Around noon, he heard a quiet knock on his door. Figuring it was Elise, whom he’d promised to take to lunch, he didn’t bother turning around. “Give me five minutes.”

  “Five minutes is really all I need.”

  The voice slammed into him and his fingers froze. Composing himself, he turned slowly in his chair.

  Jamie.

  Only it wasn’t quite the Jamie he remembered. Mardi Gras Jamie had been a wholesome girl-next-door kind of sexy, but the expensive-looking woman at his door was far from the girl next door. That rich chestnut hair curled around an expertly made-up face in soft waves. A silky blouse tucked into a high-waisted black skirt that skimmed straight down the legs he remembered so well and stopped just short of her knee. The black stiletto pumps that straddled the line between sexy and serviceable did funny things to his stomach. It was Jamie, no doubt there, but the polished and poised woman in front of him had him rethinking what little he thought he knew about her.

  But he did know this woman intimately, something his little brain was reminding him of rather earnestly, but her composed face and stiff attitude were an icy wet blanket on that.

  “Hi, Colin.”

  The simple greeting snapped him back to the present and he wondered how long he’d been staring at her. “This is a surprise.”

  Jamie’s eyebrow quirked up and he realized that had come out sharper than intended. “The young woman out front told me to just come in.” Her mouth twisted. “She did ask to see my elbows first, though. Jeez, does everyone know you’re Prince Charming?”

  “Elise is my sister. Of course she knows. Otherwise, not many people do.” He leaned back in his chair. Jamie’s face was unreadable—she didn’t look happy to see him, but she didn’t look unhappy, either. And since he hadn’t planned for Callie’s stunt to actually work, he hadn’t prepared himself for the possibility that it might. Then again, he hadn’t expected her to show up unannounced if it did, either. Seems she’d looked him up after all. “I was beginning to think something bad had happened to you the other night.”

  A tiny crease formed between her eyebrows. “Did you not get my message? I left one at the Lucky Gator.”

  That familiar mixture of anger and frustration came back. She’d wanted to disappear. Hell, the fact she was here now was proof she hadn’t left town or anything, so her lack of even a half-assed attempt to find him until now was insulting. “Oh, I got it. It was the lack of any other contact that caused concern.”

  “Well, I’m sorry for that—worrying you, that is.” She shifted a small black bag to the opposite arm and looked around. “You’re not a bartender at the Lucky Gator.”

  “No.” Was that why she hadn’t gotten in touch before now? She thought he was just a bartender? “Does that matter?”

  “No, of course not. It was just a bit of a surprise.” After another pointed look around, she asked, “If this is your business, why were you bartending?”

  That was her burning question? “Teddy’s a friend. He needed some help that day.”

  “But you let me think you worked there.”

  “You didn’t actually ask, so I didn’t offer. And rethinking that experience has made me realize that you weren’t exactly forthcoming with personal details, either.”

  “True,” she agreed, but she didn’t offer an explanation as to why. “I want you to know, Colin, that I had a really great time with you that day.”

  “I can tell.”

  “Don’t be like that.”

  “Like what, Jamie? One minute you’re all over me and the next you drop off the face of the earth.”

  She straightened her shoulders. “And I’m sorry about that. I didn’t handle the situation well, but...” She sighed. “It’s just not a good time for me to get seriously involved with anyone.”

  “Whoa, there. That’s jumping a bit ahead, don’t you think?”

  She shook her head. “It’s not personal. You seem like a great guy.”

  He didn’t want nor need to listen to the it’s-not-you-it’s-me spiel. He was neither a masochist nor that fragile. He certainly didn’t need a date that badly. Hell, he had a whole in-box of women who wanted him sight unseen—and didn’t seem to care what he did for a living.

  After a week of wondering and worrying, this was not at all what he’d pictured their reunion would be but Jamie’s attitude was cold and distant, as if she was a one-night stand he’d neglected to call the next day.

  Which was quite ironic, now that he thought about it.

  But what had he expected, really?

  Screw it. “I’ll get your watch.”

  “What?”

  He opened the drawer where he’d stuck her watch the other day and pulled it out. As he walked around the desk, he held it out to her. “Your watch. I assume that’s what you came for.”

  The watch suited this Jamie—expensive, well-coiffed, aloof—further adding to the mystery. She reached for it and their hands touched for a second. It sent a shiver of electricity and excitement up his arm, giving his temporarily tamped-down libido a jolt of awakening. Jamie, though, practically recoiled from the contact, pulling away quickly as though she’d been burned.

  Enough was enough. “Unless there’s something else, I really need to get back to work.”

  “Actually, that’s not why I came.”

  “If you’re not here to get seriously involved—” he nearly choked on the words “—and you’re not here for your watch, why are you here?”

  Her eyes flashed, calling him an ass without saying a word. Then she took a deep breath and seemed to compose herself. “I’ll make this quick, since I know you’re busy. I need you to make this Cinderella crap stop.”

  Ah, so that’s what pulled her out of hiding. “I’m not sure I can. And even if I could, why do you even care?”

  Clearly exasperated, she stalked over to his couch and sat. “I had a job interview this morning, Colin. When the HR person saw that I was brunette and named Jamie, she laughed and asked me if I was your Cinderella. I was too horrified to deny it quick enough, and she was rather shocked to realize I was. Needless to say, since your little article didn’t paint me in the most flattering light, it was a very uncomfortable interview, and I doubt I’ll be getting a second one.”

  The fact she was job hunting meant not only had she not left town, she wasn’t planning to, either. The frustration and anger spiked again. What else had she been less than truthful about? “Not my article,” he corrected. “That was all Callie. I didn’t know about it until after.”

  “I’ll admit I’m glad it wasn’t you who wrote it. But that doesn’t change the fact that it’
s out there. Announce you’ve found her or that you made it up as a joke, something, anything to make people quit talking about it.”

  Granted, this was an annoying mess, but Jamie seemed way too upset over it. Especially considering that there was no way to prove—aside from her elbows—that she was the Jamie in question. “You’re overreacting just a little, don’t you think?”

  “I just got out of a relationship that ended in the most ugly way imaginable.” While he’d normally dismiss a statement like that as hyperbole, there was an undertone to her words that made him believe it. “I moved here to get away from all that and start fresh. Now I’ve got a reputation to live down and I’ve barely had time to unpack yet.”

  He had his pride and Jamie was doing a damn good job trying to dent it. As juvenile as it was, it made him less willing to swing into action—even if he could push back against it, which was questionable. “It will fade away on its own. That’s the nature of these things.”

  “I know that. But it doesn’t really help me now. When I’m job hunting.”

  He could mention that this wasn’t really an ideal time for him either, but other than the inconvenience of it, he really couldn’t say it was a bad thing. For him. He lost nothing letting it play out.

  At the same time, he knew how hard it was to build something, to make something of yourself. He’d been in a similar place before, feeling as if the world was spinning out of control, with no one to lean on for support, his future in jeopardy and too many people looking to him to sort out their problems.

  He sincerely doubted Jamie’s situation was anywhere near as dire, but she seemed to believe it was, and he couldn’t be a party to sabotaging anyone’s attempts to straighten their life out and rebuild. He leaned back against his desk and sighed. “Fine. You just keep denying it’s you to anyone who asks—and don’t show them your elbows—and I’ll get the word out that the mystery lady has been found. In Utah or something. I have some blogger friends who might be able to help spread that news.”

  Jamie seemed to slump a little in relief. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” After a moment of silence, she cleared her throat. “Look, Colin—”