This was all too much for me. I was shaking all over. I had to get out of here.
*
When I returned to my office, my already jumbled emotions were in a tailspin. My run-ins at lunch had totally frayed me. Yes, marrying Bradley would have been the biggest mistake of my life. But I was having second thoughts. Maybe I’d already made the biggest mistake—breaking up with Blake. Had I overreacted to the video? Knowing now about Bradley and Candace’s insta-engagement, maybe I should have been grateful. Thanked him for sparing me an inevitable fate. On my drive back to the office with Libby, I didn’t share what had happened or what was going through my chaotic mind. I needed time to think things out. Sort them through. Come to my own conclusions.
Back in my office, I did nothing but stare at the painting on the wall. The Kiss. All the emotions it elicited swelled up inside me, and tears yet again welled up in my eyes. There was a reason I couldn’t bear to take it down. Jen, face the truth. It was loud and clear. As much as he’d deceived me, I was still madly in love with Blake Burns.
Was it too late to make amends? I’d shunned him, pushed him away. Could I ask for forgiveness? Uncertainty tore through me. A sudden ping on my computer catapulted me out of my state of despair. Just before a rush of tears. It was an e-mail from Blake marked “Urgent” in the subject line. My heart hammered. I hesitated before opening it—half-hoping it would say something like:
Come to my office immediately. I want to fuck you over my desk.
Love~ Blake
Opening it, I shoved my glasses on top of my head. I read it quickly. My heart sunk.
Gloria Zander needs to move our meeting to this coming Friday as she will be out of town on the originally scheduled date. She will be here at 4 p.m. and is eager to hear about your erotic romance daytime block. Please have your PowerPoint presentation ready.
I shuddered. Blake’s coldness sent a shiver up my spine. Not even a “hi” or “thank you.” I had only forty-eight hours to finish the presentation. And Blake was over me. The waterworks sprang.
*
The next forty-eight hours were pure hell. An unbearable sadness ate away at me. Blake Burns completely ignored me, except for stopping by a few times to find out how my PowerPoint was progressing. His presence tugged at my heartstrings, and I fought back tears each time I told him it was going well, my eyes never leaving my computer screen. I couldn’t look at him because I knew I would fall apart.
The truth: the presentation was progressing slowly. While I’d gotten most of it done before the holiday break, I still had some slides to prepare and needed to spruce it up. I had an impossible time concentrating. Blake Burns consumed my mind every waking minute—literally since I had to pull an all-nighter, something I hadn’t done since college. I missed him terribly, but it was over. I unsuccessfully tried to convince myself it was for the best.
I finalized the PowerPoint at midnight on Thursday. My accomplishment lifted me out of my doom and gloom for a fleeting moment. I was pleased with it. Based on my instincts and Libby’s focus group research, I had a convincing story to tell. Women 18-49 were craving erotic romance, and in the landscape of television, this programming was sorely missing. SIN-TV had a chance to create a breakout block of programming that would attract a new demographic and advertisers alike. Gloria’s Secret was a perfect fit.
Bleary eyed, I got into my SpongeBob PJs and crawled into bed, taking with me the latest Hollywood Reporter which I hadn’t had a chance to read. It was important to stay current on what was going on in the entertainment industry. I quickly perused the trade magazine. When I got to the last page, which was a gossip page filled with photos of Hollywood movers and shakers, my body did its own moving and shaking. Staring me in the face was a photo of Blake with one of his blond bimbos all over him. Kitty-Kat no less. It was taken last night at a fundraiser gala at The Beverly Hills Hotel. While I was slaving away on my PowerPoint, Blake was out partying. Blake was not only over me, he had moved on. He was back to being a player. Tears bombarded me.
I tore up the magazine and sobbed my way to sleep.
Chapter 17
Blake
I was a basket case. A fucking basket case. It sucked to be me.
Why couldn’t love be an open door? Jennifer McCoy was shutting me out of her life. Emotionally and physically. She was avoiding me like the plague. The few times we ran into each other, she gave me the cold shoulder and moved away as quickly as she could. And she kept her office door closed. I had to knock to see her. Glued to her computer screen, she never made eye contact with me. She looked on the verge of tears. The amount of pain I’d caused her was immeasurable. The amount of hatred she felt toward me unfathomable. I desperately wanted to tell her again how sorry I was and ask for forgiveness. And tell her how much I loved her. And then hold her in my arms and smother her with kisses. But her behavior made me feel like I was a persona non-gratis. It was plain and simple. She was done with me.
On Monday and Tuesday, I left work early. My beautiful tiger had eaten me up. Gnawed at my heart and torn it apart. Unable to focus, I drove home, drowned my sorrows with a couple of beers, and then crawled under the covers. Usually a sound sleeper, I tossed and turned. Trying to fall asleep, I even masturbated thinking about her. But wanking off didn’t help. It made matters worse. Jaime’s words spun in my head: Don’t give up on her. But how was I supposed to do that when she’d given up on me?
Wednesday at work was no better. In fact, it was worse. More disheartening. I was going to ask Jennifer out for lunch under the pretense of discussing business, but when I popped into her office, she was gone. When she returned, she seemed even glummer and more unapproachable. She coldly told me she was working on her Gloria’s Secret presentation and that it would be ready in time for our meeting on Friday. Before I could say another word, she asked me to leave so she could keep working. As I slogged toward the door to her office, I glanced at The Kiss. Surprised the painting was still hanging on the wall, I surmised it was just a matter of time before it vanished. Until every memory of me was gone. The sight of it frazzled me. Why the fuck didn’t I just ravish her? Take her in my arms and give her a kiss that would make her fall apart? And fall again for me? She may have been a wounded tiger, but she was brave. As for me, the former king of the jungle, I was reduced to being a cowardly lion. My heart roared with pain.
I would have gone home early and crawled into bed again had I not had a fucking gala to attend. It was a fundraiser for an autistic children’s charity my mother supported. Still vacationing in Aruba, my parents had called me and asked me to represent them at the ten thousand dollar table they’d purchased. As much as I wasn’t in the mood to go, I couldn’t say no. At six o’clock, I headed over to The Beverly Hills Hotel where the event was taking place. On my way out of the office, I passed by Jennifer’s office. The door was closed.
I’d been to hundreds of these kinds of benefits. They were always the same. A cocktail hour followed by a long, boring ballroom awards dinner with bad food, drawn out speeches, and mediocre entertainment.
This was a very high profile event and paparazzi swarmed the cocktail lounge. I recognized many of the faces—close friends of my parents. Most of them billionaires, many of them celebrities. Drinking champagne, I politely made small talk with a few but stayed aloof. I wanted to leave.
A boyishly good-looking man about my age sauntered up to me. There was a slight swish to his walk. He was wearing one of those new fashionable men’s shorts suits I wouldn’t be caught dead in and was munching on some hors d’oeuvres. He looked vaguely familiar to me—in fact, I was positive I’d seen him at Jaime’s art gallery party as well as the Conquest Broadcasting Christmas Ball. I zeroed in on his tie. It was a Burberry plaid one—exactly like the one Jennifer had worn as a blindfold in that game of Truth or Dare.
“Hi,” he said with a snap of his free hand. “You’re Blake Burns, right?” I could tell from the pitch of his voice and manner of dress he was ga
y.
“Yeah. Who are you?”
“Chaz Clearfield. Libby’s brother.”
I twitched a smile. “Nice to meet you.” I was in no mood for conversation, especially with the flamboyant brother of that annoying researcher.
“So, I hear you and my Jen—”
Before he could finish his sentence, we had company.
“Well, if it isn’t Blake Burns.”
It was Kitty-Kat, one of my former hook-ups, all decked out in a body-hugging cat-eye-green mini-dress. Holding a flute of champagne, she sandwiched herself between Chaz and me. She was right in my face.
“Aren’t we rude?” snickered Chaz.
She sneered.
“Hi, Kitty,” I stammered. “How have you been?” The last time I’d seen her was at Jaime Zander’s art gallery opening. She had stalked me.
“Great,” she purred, pressing her big plastic tits against me. “I’ve missed you. Where have you been?”
“I’ve been busy.” I wished she would leave.
“Blake Burns, can we take your photo?” another voice called out. It was one of the many paparazzi floating amongst the crowd.
Before I could make a mad dash for it, Kitty-Kat yanked me to the side and wrapped her arms around my neck. “Smile,” she said and then smacked her fat injected lips against mine.
FLASH! FLASH! FLASH! Shit. The photographer had gotten me kissing her before I was able to escape. As his camera blinded me, a chill ran down my spine. Who knew where these photos would appear?
I’d had enough of this event. Enough of Kitty. I pulled away from her. She was miffed.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going, Blake?” she hissed.
“Home.” I said good-bye to Chaz who’d witnessed the whole miserable scene.
A short fifteen minutes later, I was in my condo. I took a hot shower and jerked myself off. There was only one girl I belonged with. The one I couldn’t have. Jennifer McCoy.
*
Thursday was more for the same. There was no hope for Jennifer and me. Until I got a phone call at the end of the day from my grandma.
“Blakela, I ran into that girlfriend of yours yesterday. She told me she’s meshuganah about you.”
“She did?”
“Vould I ever kid you?”
No. My crazy, over-sexed eighty-five-year-old grandma was a straight shooter.
“Finally, you’ve given me something to live for,” she moaned.
And vice versa. Telling Grandma I loved her, I hung up the phone. For the first time in almost a week, a glimmer of hope lit up my heart. And my cock twitched.
Chapter 18
Jennifer
The conference room mirrored the rest of SIN-TV. Sleek with lots of polished metal and black leather. Framed posters of current series hung on the wall along with the motto of SIN-TV created by Jaime Zander’s ad agency, ZAP! “Television so hot, your screen will sizzle.” And of course, a huge plasma screen was embedded into the front wall.
I hobbled into the room. Blake was already there, seated at the head of the large conference room table. His presence sent a shudder flying through me. Hibernating in my office over the past few days, I’d hardly seen him. Most of our communication was via e-mail. This morning, I had sent him my presentation to review and he’d approved it. The photo of him and Kitty kissing had set me back emotionally. I could hardly look him in the eyes. I hadn’t expected it to cause me so much pain.
Despite the fact it was casual Friday, he was wearing one of his elegant, tapered, custom-tailored dark suits with a white dress shirt and a sharp looking tie. It had an unexpected, unnerving effect on me. He also looked rested and had shaved. His hair was back to having that groomed, just-fucked look. My stomach churned. Of course, he had fucked Kitty. And that was probably just for starters. Every nerve in my body sizzled.
His piercing blue eyes met mine, and I knew he knew he was affecting me. He flashed a smile. Why was he acting like nothing had happened between us? Why was he taunting me? I was an ice cube on fire.
“Sit next to me, please.” His voice was authorative yet seductive.
Pointing a forefinger, he indicated for me to take the seat just to the right of him. As much as I didn’t want to sit anywhere near him, he was still my boss and I had no choice. Taking a much needed calming breath, I lowered myself to the chair and set my crutches next to me against the table. Blake rose, gathered my crutches, and then strutted across the room where he placed them in the far right corner. He returned to his seat, the heat of his body radiating and inciting me.
Seeking a distraction, I eyed my laptop sitting in the middle of the table. With the help of Mrs. Cho and our tech team, I’d set it up earlier in the afternoon to hook up with the big screen TV. Using a remote, I’d be able to project my PowerPoint onto the large screen. I turned to face Blake.
“Are you sure you want me to do the presentation?” My unsteady voice underscored my insecurity. This was my first big presentation and I… we… had a lot riding on the line.
Blake didn’t flinch. His hypnotic blue eyes met mine. Get them off me!
“Yes. This is your baby. Your pitch. No one can sell your idea better than you. Remember the three cherries… line them up.”
The right idea. The right time. The right person. Blake’s Vegas lesson—his father’s credo. I had two out of the three cherries in place. The right idea and right time. I just needed to win Gloria over. A pang of sadness stabbed me. When it came to Blake and my own personal life, nothing was lined up. Everything was shattered. I fought hard to put what had happened between us to the back of my mind, afraid that tears might erupt. It wasn’t easy.
On time, at exactly four o’clock, Gloria sauntered into the room with a stylishly dressed, spiky-haired man who appeared to be the same age. Thirty something.
Gloria was even more stunning in person than in the photos I’d seen both online and at her house. Tall and statuesque, she was wearing a black and white Chanel (so I thought) tweed suit with gobs of pearls swathed around her neck. Bright red lipstick stood out against her porcelain skin, and her mane of hair, pure platinum, cascaded in a loose thick braid over her shoulders. It reached past her waist. She was in a word—intimidating. A magnificent powerhouse of a woman.
Her companion, blatantly gay, eased my angst. Dressed in tight leather pants, a vintage cardigan, a bow tie, and red high-tops, he smiled warmly at me. He reminded me a lot of Libby’s brother, Chaz.
Gloria’s eyes, one remarkably blue, the other brown, darted to the corner of the room where my crutches were stacked. Her eyes shifted back to me. I had no idea if she knew what had transpired at her beach house. I wondered—had Blake told his best friend Jaime?
Before I could push myself away from the polished steel table to stand up, she came by to shake my hand and introduced her companion, Kevin Riley, her partner and head of marketing and public relations. Her voice was commanding but warm. I instantly liked her.
“Where’s Jaime?” asked Blake as she and Kevin took seats at the table across from me. I caught sight of her magnificent wedding ring with its entwined heart-shaped diamonds while she responded.
“He’s still in Japan. A crisis with a client.”
Blake rolled his eyes at her. “Oh, so he put his other client’s needs before yours?” Blake had told me before the meeting that her husband’s advertising agency ZAP! handled Gloria’s Secret’s media buys.
“Yes.” A sexy smile snaked across her face. “He’ll pay.”
“Oh will he,” chimed in Kevin.
Gloria shot Kevin a wry look and then turned her attention to me. “Thank you for the lovely picture frame, Jennifer. I’ve already put a family photo in it and set it on the piano.”
I was surprised but relieved she got it so quickly. “You’re welcome,” I stammered, trying hard to quell both the scrumptious and turbulent memories of the weekend at her house.
“Why don’t we get straight into the pitch,” said Blake, his words ru
shed. There was no doubt in my mind—he needed to move on as much as I did. My chest tightened. Blake turned my way and handed me the remote. “Jennifer…” His voice trailed off.
Taking a deep breath, I clicked the remote and initiated the PowerPoint. Slide after slide spoke to the power of the erotic romance books I wanted to turn into telenovelas and to the research that supported my block of SIN-TV daytime programming.
I managed to steal a few glances at Gloria during my presentation. She sat at the conference room table poker-faced, her hands, with their perfectly manicured crimson nails, folded stoically in front of her, her intense eyes glued to the big screen TV. I also glanced occasionally at Blake. He was intermittently nodding with approval and monitoring Gloria’s reaction to the presentation. Battling my nerves, I pushed myself forward until I came to the end of the presentation—a video clip featuring some testimonials from the focus groups. “A picture is worth a thousand words,” my father, the wordsmith, ironically preached. I wrapped things up.
“So based on the popularity of these books and our research findings, I believe there is a huge market for erotic programming targeted at women. I’m tentatively calling the block, “My SIN-TV.” Done. With an inner sigh of relief, I turned my computer off and anxiously awaited a response from Gloria or Kevin.
Silence. Gloria pursed her full, red-lacquered lips and then turned to her companion. “Kev, what do you think?”
I held my breath.
“I think Jennifer’s idea is fan-fucking-tastic.”
Gloria nodded, a smile widening on her lips. “I do too. I love all these books and so do Gloria’s Secret customers. I think this a perfect match. I’d like to sponsor the entire block in exchange for product placement.”
In shock, I shot Blake a glance. His eyes sparkled and a dazzling smile exploded across his face.
Gloria continued. “Jennifer, have you thought of an online component?”
“Not yet,” I stuttered, trying to maintain my composure. Holy shit! Gloria Zander, the head of Gloria’s Secret, the world largest retailer of women’s lingerie, had just bought into my programming block. Thank goodness, I couldn’t walk because I would have jumped up and done a happy dance.
That Man 3 Page 13