by Jo Leigh
“Okay,” she said, in a very small voice. “I’ll get some rest. I… Thank you, Charlie. But if you change your mind. If you think it would be better…for the blog for me to be there…”
“Nope. Got it covered. You can read all about it in tomorrow’s NNY.”
She sighed. It sounded sad. He’d given her a lot of thought last night. Fine, he’d missed her. But there was no reason to think this mood was anything other than what she’d said, despite Rebecca’s dramatics. Bree was far from home, on her own. She’d been slammed with brutal hours and tons of pressure. Tonight really was a lightweight affair, and while he’d rather be with Bree, he wanted her to take the time she needed to get herself back. He liked her happy. He liked her excited. He liked her.
IT WAS SIX-FIFTEEN ON MONDAY and Bree was in an elevator and it was possible that she’d actually lost her mind between the fifth and sixth floor.
Or maybe this trip was a direct result of not sleeping last night. She’d tried tea, yoga, meditation—that had been a laugh riot—a hot bath, warm milk. Instead of sleeping she’d read a year’s worth of Naked New York blogs, every article she could find on Google about Charlie and every person he’d ever dated, started a new five-year plan a half-dozen times, and generally been insane. Work had been a circus. If she didn’t get fired this week it would be because of divine intervention because she was not earning her salary. No matter what happened next, that was going to change. She would need BBDA more than ever after this ill-advised visit.
She hadn’t called ahead. George at the front desk hadn’t bothered to notify Charlie of her arrival, but he had asked if she’d been feeling okay because she hadn’t been there on Sunday. George didn’t work on Sunday. So he’d heard from other front desk personnel that she’d missed a night with Charlie. Which meant it wasn’t just her—everyone thought Charlie and she were… something they weren’t. She wasn’t sure if that made her feel better or worse.
As the elevator approached his floor, she had to fight off utter panic because what was she even doing there? She had no idea what she was going to say. She honestly didn’t want to go to the perfume party. Bree had never once imagined a world where that would be true.
Anyway, not going to the party felt worse. God help her, she missed him. Knowing everything she knew, she wanted him like an addict wanted crack. The break tonight was supposed to have been used for regaining her energy, refocusing on her goals, making that new five-year plan. Or sleep. Sleep would have been good.
The elevator stopped so smoothly it took her a second to get that she’d arrived. The second the doors whooshed open she panicked, pressed the down button. Twice.
As the doors were about to close, her arm shot out. And wasn’t this just the picture of her life. Stuck. Unsure. Afraid to meet her own gaze in the mirror. Terrified to walk forward, unwilling to go back.
She had no plan, and that was the scariest thing of all. But she took those few steps out of the box, ready to face whatever had compelled her to come.
Charlie opened the front door before she knocked. When he saw her, his beautiful brown eyes widened and his smile was so brilliant and so genuine that something inside her changed forever. “Bree,” he said with that damn voice of his.
“Hey.”
“I thought—”
“I know. I wasn’t—”
“Come in. The team isn’t here, but we can do this. We can figure this out.” He stepped back, his gaze and his smile steady and pleased. “I was just grabbing dinner. Pizza. Cheese and mushroom. I can get something else if you don’t like pizza. There’s that curry place I told you about—”
“I’m fine. It’s fine. Pizza is great.” They were standing inside. She was in her coat. Wearing a work dress, boots, nothing special, just clothes because she never imagined she’d get this far.
He was in jeans. A dark purple shirt with rolled-up sleeves. Socks, no shoes. His hair was messy, but not his usual cool messy. One important part was smooshed against his scalp and it made tears bubble and her throat tighten, which made no sense at all.
He came toward her, arms up, as she moved to shrug off her coat but then he hugged her, trapping her arms at her sides. Weird didn’t come close to what was happening inside her. Tears on the edge of falling, a flurry of butterflies in her stomach, a blush of epic proportions and the smell of his skin both arousing and comforting.
She felt a little better when she caught him sniffing at her neck. Better still when the stiffness in his body and his stuttering breathing made it clear he felt as awkward as she did.
He stepped back, and oh, God, his blush. It was great. And awful. Because this wasn’t what she wanted it to be. It wasn’t. How could she not get that through her very thick skull?
She let her coat slide to the floor. It was all she could do not to follow it.
CHARLIE WATCHED HER WOBBLE, and he wasn’t sure whether to grab her or what.
“Here’s the thing,” she said, her voice as shaky as her legs.
Charlie got caught by the pink of her cheeks and how she was trembling, and while she wore no ribbons, she did have a butterfly clip pulling back a small section of short, dark hair.
“I know not to mix things up.” She tipped forward just a bit. “Business, pleasure. That kind of thing. I know that. You’ve been nothing but amazing, and you’ve completely changed my life. My five-year plan? It’s fast-forwarded to two, maybe three now, but really, I’m rethinking the whole thing because I—it— I’m different. Because you let me write for you. You gave me carte blanche into the world I’d dreamed of, and dreams that come true become something else. Not bad, just not what I imagined. Which is okay.”
She took a steadying breath, and man, she needed it because she’d pretty much said that all in one sentence.
Charlie understood her, though. Despite being swept up in her eyes, in her pink lips and how she flung her right hand to the side when she emphasized a word. He knew he was still smiling. Thought about stopping. Didn’t.
“So the problem isn’t you,” she said. “It’s that I broke the one rule. The big rule. The one that can ruin it all. I didn’t know I was going to. I sure as hell didn’t plan to. I’d made a promise. To myself. That I wouldn’t get involved. I wouldn’t let myself. Because my friends? My college roommate and all my BFFs from high school? Every one of them fell for a guy and then their dreams…diminished. And, yes, I know one doesn’t have to lead to the other, but I know myself, and how I can be obsessive, and that’s a great trait when I’m working toward my future, but not so great when it means I’m swallowed whole by love. It’s not that I don’t think love is good, ’cause it’s fine—it’s great—but my goals…they’re important. I want to prove myself in the world before I settle down. Look at you! You went out and did exactly that. You haven’t for a minute let anything or anyone get in your way, and wow, you’ve done it. You’re the most successful man I know, and you didn’t become a total sonofabitch doing it, and you have morals and you’ve been so nice to me, I don’t even—”
Good God. Charlie blinked, and his smile cracked. Not completely, but enough. Love? Really? Love?
No. No, no, no. That wasn’t what was happening here. He liked her. A lot. More than most people. A whole lot. Sex with her was off the charts, and as fantastic as that was, spending time with her was even better, but love?
Not happening. Not on the table. Not open for discussion, so what was she…
He was pretty sure a heart wasn’t supposed to beat this fast.
“…but I think it’s just because, you know, Cinderella and all,” she said, her voice a little slower, her eyes not quite as vibrant. “Although I never expected that kind of happy ending. That’s crazy talk. I mean, you’re Charlie Winslow. You’re the poster guy for living single. I’m the gimmick. Seriously, I know all that. It’s fine with me. It’s what I signed up for. I had it all planned out, see, how I was going to do this life, this part of my life, and then I went and did something stupid. Not that I�
�m exactly in love, but I’m heading there and if I’m not careful…” She swallowed. “It won’t affect you at all. I mean that completely. If it makes you uncomfortable, well, then…”
She pressed her lips together for a second as a flash of hurt crossed her face. Or confusion? “Well, then, I’ll just make myself scarce. That’s cool. But if you still have the numbers, I’ll live up to my agreement. I’ll be the best damn gimmick I can be, and I won’t embarrass you, I swear. I promise. It’s my problem, not yours. Seriously. It’s just that you’ve been so great, and I owed it to you to tell you what was really going on. You really have been great.”
It was taking a long time for his brain to catch up to her words, and he might have missed a chunk in there somewhere. He thought she’d said she’d fallen in love? With him? Or maybe she was afraid of falling in love. With him. But she didn’t want to because it was against the rules, and he was a poster child, and she was a gimmick. Or Cinderella.
He was pretty sure she’d mentioned it was her problem and not his, but there might be an argument in there about the veracity of that statement. If he gave it some thought, he’d be able to work it out, make sense of what she’d said, was still saying.
“You look terrified,” she said. “I’m sorry. Don’t be. I won’t… I’m not… I’m not like a crazed fangirl or a stalker or anything like that.”
She winced, and he’d seen that look before. It got to him, that scrunched-up face. Scrunched and beautiful, and oh, shit.
“Um,” she said, softly. “That might have gotten away from me a little.”
He had to clear his throat. “Bree, maybe we should go have a bite to eat. You know, slow down. Talk.”
The knock on the door didn’t register until Bree looked behind him. What the hell? Had the entire staff gone on vacation or something? “Just a sec,” he said, then he went to the door.
It swung open and there was Mia Cavendish, in a massively huge faux fur coat, hair and makeup photo-ready and a look of such boredom on her face Charlie thought she might simply melt into a puddle in the atrium.
Mia glanced at Bree, then her wristwatch, then at Charlie. “Am I early? Naomi said to be here no later than six-thirty.”
IT WAS LIKE BEING STABBED in the chest. Like an earthquake. Like a wake-up call. Bree tried to remember how to breathe as she prayed for the earth to swallow her whole, for the strength to move her damn feet before the elevator went back down to the lobby. She was such an idiot. And a liar, a total, complete liar.
“Naomi?” Charlie asked. “What?”
“For tonight’s party,” Mia said as she strode into his home as if she lived there. She smiled at Bree, although it was clear she couldn’t be bothered. “I think this is what I’m going to wear, but I’m going to check the racks,” she said, dropping her coat on an ottoman. “I’d kill for some champagne.” She looked at Bree again. “Where’s Anna? Oh, she’s probably gone. Charlie?”
“Mia, when did you speak to Naomi?”
“This afternoon. Around one-thirty. Why?”
Bree heard them talking, but their voices were muffled. She needed to pick up her coat. Put it on. Get out. Now. Before Charlie noticed her again.
Although, why would he? One of the most beautiful women in the world was standing not five feet away. Tall, willowy, her face impossibly gorgeous—she was the kind of woman who should be with Charlie Winslow.
“Give us a minute, Mia. There’s champagne in the fridge.”
The model didn’t look pleased about it, but she walked off, confident in her insanely high boots.
That got Bree moving. She bent at the knee, as her mother had taught her, to get her coat, and it was cold on her arms, heavy on her shoulders, but it was thick, and when she wrapped her arms around her waist it felt like protection. “I’ve got to go,” she said, looking anywhere but at Charlie.
He came into her peripheral vision, and she stepped aside, quick as she could. “You know what’s funny?” she asked while she backed up.
“Bree, wait.”
“What’s hysterical? I’m from Hicksville. That’s the real town I’m from. Hicksville, Ohio. I went to Hicksville High, and nothing on earth has ever been more appropriate than that.”
“What?” Charlie blinked at her, looked toward the kitchen, then back. “Wait, this is all going too fast. Don’t go. Okay?”
She shook her head. “You’ve got to get ready. You made a promise, and you can’t be skipping things. I’ve already knocked you out of your routine, and that’s bad enough, but they’re expecting you. And Mia Cavendish! That’s going to raise some eyebrows, right? Wait till Page Six gets a load of you two together. Facebook is going to go nuts.”
She hurried away from him, moving sideways, just as she’d done that first morning-after.
“Please,” he said. “I don’t—”
“It’s okay. We’ll decide what to do later. I really have to…” And she was out the door, hitting the damn elevator button, and why couldn’t he have lived on the first floor? Would it have killed him? She would have been in a taxi already.
The elevator dinged, and she had never been so thankful. She stepped inside just as the door opened behind her, and Charlie walked out.
She found the close-now! button on the first try, and he didn’t stick his arm out to stop the doors. Why should he? Charlie Winslow knew exactly where he belonged.
16
CHARLIE WANTED TO BE anywhere but at the Canal Room. The place was packed with the same people he’d seen Saturday night and Thursday night and Wednesday night. The same cameras and reporters and hangers-on made all the same noises. The play repeated endlessly and the only thing that changed was the costumes.
Mia was…somewhere. She’d seemed surprised when he hadn’t cozied up after getting out of the car. It hadn’t mattered that they’d not uttered a word during the drive, but when the cameras were rolling, there were expectations. Demands. He couldn’t have cared less.
The press would say what they wanted to say, then it would be his move, and he’d make a more outrageous statement, and it would continue. Not even chess, but checkers. His thoughts, as he stood nursing a scotch near the rear exit, aside from debating making a run for it, were on the two women who had come to the center stage of his life. Rebecca, who had always been an ally, even when they’d been kids. There was no reason to believe, rationally, that she had changed her allegiance. He’d done nothing to hurt her or embarrass her. They weren’t just relatives, they were friends.
Given that, perhaps it was time to consider what she’d been trying to tell him. She had nothing to gain by him reevaluating his relationship to his parents, to his business, to Bree. If he did a complete about-face in all three areas, he and Rebecca would continue on as before.
What was he afraid of? The idea of change? Change was always uncomfortable, and he’d made himself a very comfortable life. Say he was willing to step outside his patterns. Nothing written in stone, so what if he looked at it?
He was under no obligation to do anything his parents asked of him. He hadn’t been for years. The life he led was his own. In return, nothing he did or said was going to influence his parents, unless they wanted to be influenced.
He sipped the scotch, felt the burn at the back of his throat. It occurred to him that the race had been over years ago, but Rebecca was right. He’d never stopped running. He’d been incredibly pleased with their horrified response to Naked New York and his notoriety. It represented everything they avoided like the plague: common interests, personal exposure, progressive views. Basically anything that wasn’t them. He’d kept upping the stakes, they’d kept reacting with shock, with threats, with bribes. Huh. He’d made that little hamster wheel his life’s work.
Why, of all the interesting things that were available to a man of his resources, was he still playing this ridiculous game? Movie stars? Fashion? Scandals? It wasn’t that he thought all celebrity was nonsense—he didn’t. Humans created celebrity culture because th
ey were designed that way. There’d been gossip ever since there’d been speech. Technology only made it more immediate. It was part of the world, but only a tiny part, and when all was said and done, it wasn’t a part he particularly valued, outside of the revenue it generated.
He took his glass with him and made his exit. He didn’t have his coat, and dammit, it was freezing, but he wasn’t willing to go back inside, not now.
He walked down the street, and even at twenty to eleven, there were people in the crosswalks, people talking, lights on, restaurants and bars filled to the rafters. God, he loved this city. The fantastic mess of it. Endlessly fascinating, and he was the luckiest sonofabitch who lived there. Did he even know what to do with this world at his fingertips? If he walked away from Naked New York tomorrow, nothing significant would happen. He imagined he would still run the media group. That was fulfilling and he was damn proud of what he’d built. But if he never went to another party, never saw another premiere or opened another club, so what? Manhattan would find another king. He would have to figure out what he wanted to do with himself. His parents could stop being embarrassed by the women he went out with. Shit. He started laughing, out there on the sidewalk, and a couple walking behind him crossed the street in the middle of the road.
Oh, Rebecca was going to be unbearable. No one did smug like Rebecca. But what the hell. He owed her.
Not that he had decided to walk away. Not yet. It was too big a decision to make on a scotch and a confusing night. Besides, he had his team to think about. Transitions, changes, financial repercussions.
Which actually sounded like one hell of a good time.
Shivering, he circled back to the entrance to the club. He had no desire to go in, but he owed it to Mia to tell her she was on her own. So he braved the front door, ignored the strange looks at his reentry. Finding Mia was all he cared about at the moment. Because while leaving the spotlight of NNY was a big decision, it wasn’t the most important one he needed to consider. Which brought him to the second woman.