Extreme Bachelor

by Julia London

  “How did you know?”

  “How do I know? It is obvious, mi amor. Men can be very mean to their women.”

  She laughed at his quick intuition.

  “Tell me,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

  “I’m not a whiner.”

  “Yes, you do not like wine, this I know. Now tell me,” he said with much authority.

  “Okay,” Leah said, suddenly sitting up and propping her elbows on the table. “There’s this guy that I knew five years ago. We were a couple, you know, and then one day, out of the clear blue, he breaks it off. He basically says he’s in a place that doesn’t include me.”

  “Bastard,” Adolfo spat.

  “Right,” she said, nodding. “So then, I run into him five years later,” she continued. “And he tells me that he made a huge mistake and that he has thought of only me—”

  “Liar,” Adolfo cried, jabbing a finger in the air.

  “Well, he did show me all the things he remembered about me, and it was pretty much everything, and he did seem very sincere—”

  “Sincere? What is sincere?”

  “Honest.”

  “Ah,” he said, and made a circular motion with his hand. “Continue.”

  “He was bringing me gifts and telling me that he’d had this . . . this job that had prevented him from being with me, but he didn’t have that job anymore, and he begged me for a second chance.”

  “What job?”

  Leah rolled her eyes. “Spy,” she muttered.

  Adolfo leaned forward. “Que?”

  “SPY.”

  Adolfo blinked. And then he burst out laughing. A very loud, very boisterous laugh that filled the entire commissary tent. “I am sorry, I am sorry,” he said, holding up a hand. “But this line is very good! Bravo, bravo! And what does he spy upon? Cows in the field? Beautiful women?”

  Leah was beginning to feel like a naive little idiot. “Terrorists,” she said wearily. “Arms dealers or something.”

  “Aha! And where are these terrorists?” Adolfo asked gaily. “Do they star in Hollywood movies?”

  “I don’t know. Austria, maybe?”

  Adolfo laughed roundly again. “Austria!” he scoffed to the ceiling. “And does he prove this? Does he show you something to make you believe? A key, perhaps?”

  “A key?” Leah echoed, confused.

  “A key. Something,” Adolfo said, waving his hand at something.

  A bit of a language barrier. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “He didn’t show me anything. It sounds completely stupid and made up, doesn’t it?”

  Adolfo smiled sadly, as if she was a poor, young, imbecile. “This . . . this man and his lies and his wild sayings hurt your heart,” he said kindly.

  “Oh no,” she lied. “Not really. It was a long time ago. But this time, I wasn’t that into him.”

  “He is not worth the dirt on your feet,” Adolfo said strongly.

  “I think you mean beneath,” Leah said with a smile.

  “Beneath. He does not deserve to have the same air you breathe,” he added with a grand flick of his wrist, and then he leaned forward, pressed his finger to thumb and said, “He does not deserve to live on the same earth.”

  Leah shrugged.

  “If I had you, beautiful woman, for my woman, I would treat you like a princess, shower you with gifts and flowers and kisses. And I would never allow this worry to be in your eyes, no? I would kiss it all away.”

  “Oh,” Leah said, moved a little by the passionate way he made his case.

  “And if my woman ever look at this bastard or another man, I cut her,” he said with a snap of his fingers and jerk of his hand.

  She instantly reared back. She had the distinct impression that he really meant it.

  But Adolfo smiled sexily and reached for her hand, taking it into his palm and then stroking her knuckles with his thumb. “Ah, mi amor, you look very sad.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Allow me to make you happy—”

  “Thanks, Adolfo, but we’re just having a guava juice.”

  “Yes, but I can give you more than juice,” he purred.

  Leah pulled her hand from his and pushed back. “I have to go.”

  “No, no, do not go away from me,” he pouted.

  “I’ve had a long day and I have to be back very early in the morning.”

  “Here!” he proclaimed, gesturing to the table and the seat. “You will find me still sitting here, still thinking of you.”

  “I’ll be sure and wake you up,” she said with a wink, grabbed her backpack, and walked away.

  “Do not dream of this bastard, Leah!” Adolfo called after her as she walked away. “Dream sweet dreams. Dream of Adolfo.”

  She smiled at him over her shoulder, but she had no hope of sweet dreams.

  MICHAEL scoured the lot, looking for Leah, and finally gave up. He was walking to his car when he saw Nicole Redding coming out of the production offices. She instantly lit up when she saw him and started strutting toward him.

  Not now, he thought miserably.

  “Well, International Man of Mystery, you’re still here,” she said.

  “So are you.”

  “I’m actually in the movie. What’s your excuse?”

  He smiled, thrust a hand through his hair. Nicole put her hands on her hips and tipped her head back to look up at him, the smirk still on her lips.

  He casually touched her shoulder and pulled a loose strand of hair from her shirt. “What is it now, Nicki?”

  “I was just thinking that I never realized how much you got around. You’re really quite the ladies’ man, aren’t you?”

  “Am I?”

  “Don’t be coy, Michael. It really pisses me off.”

  She looked as if she was on the verge of a major pout. Michael smiled, touched her chin. “I’d bet not as much as an inquisition generally pisses me off,” he responded cheerfully.

  Her eyes narrowed, and she pursed her lips, which really was not a good look for her—it definitely made her look like an old hag. “Does it even matter to you that I have a public profile? I don’t like being made a fool of in public.”

  A number of retorts flashed across his mind, but Michael was a gentleman, and he shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled. “How am I making you seem a fool, sweetheart?”

  “People still think we’re an item—”

  “Only because you keep perpetuating the idea. But we’re not, and we haven’t been in a long time.”

  “It hasn’t been that long. But here’s the deal, Michael. You bring your skank girlfriend on the set—after you try and get in the pants of that soccer mom.”

  “First of all, Nicki, I didn’t bring a girlfriend on set. I’ve only met the woman a couple of times and can hardly remember her name. Secondly, I wasn’t trying to get in the pants of a soccer mom. I was trying to mend some old fences with the only woman I have ever loved. And still, Nicki, I’m trying to figure out how exactly any of that impacts you—unless, maybe, you’ve got some idea that by hanging around here and dogging me, you might convince me to get together again?”

  He thought that would make her mad, make her turn on her heel and walk away—but it had the exact opposite effect. Nicole suddenly moved toward him, put her hand on his chest and batted her lashes. “Would that really be so bad?” she murmured. “We were so good together, Mike. You thought so, too.”

  “Nicole,” he started, but she grabbed his shirt before he could step away.

  “Don’t say no. Just think about it. Think about how great we were in bed and how great we could be still.”

  He sighed, reached up for her hand, but she would not let go, so he covered it with his, trying to loosen her grip. “Baby, we weren’t that good together. We argued all the time, and you weren’t exactly faithful, and the sex wasn’t that great. We really oughta hang it up, don’t you think? You’d be so much better off with a guy who made you happy. I don’t make you happy. I piss y
ou off.”

  “Why don’t you want me?” she asked, leaning into him, tilting her head back. “I’m a movie star. There are a million guys who’d want to be with me.”

  “I know,” he said and impulsively kissed her cheek as he removed her hand from his shirt. “Why don’t you want to be with a guy who wants you more than the air he breathes, Nic? You’re right—there are a million of them. So why beat this old dead horse?”

  Nicole sighed and lowered her lids so that she could just barely see him. Michael imagined some director had once told her that looked sexy, but it looked stupid as hell.

  “It’s not a dead horse. I still love you.”

  “Nicki, you never loved me,” he said, and smiled tenderly, for even though she was making an ass of herself, he felt a little sorry for a woman who was a mega star and had to go about getting a guy like this. He started to tell her she should look beyond the movie business for love, but a movement caught his eye, and he glanced up.

  There, across the parking lot, was Leah, looking a little dumbfounded and a whole lot pissed. He tried to step away, but Nicole was determined, and grabbed his shirt again. “Wait,” she pouted. “Let me just say this . . .”

  It was too late, anyway. Leah was already in her car. And as Nicole made her case to Michael, Leah drove away, surely believing now that not only did he have a thing with Ariel, but still hadn’t managed to get past the one with Nicole, either.

  And exactly when was it that he thought being the Extreme Bachelor was a good thing?

  Subject: Okay. You were right.

  From: Leah Kleinschmidt

  To: Lucy Frederick

  Time: 6:10 pm

  There is nothing that makes me want to jump off a building more than this, but okay, I have to admit it, Lucy—you were right. Michael is an asshole and all I did was set myself up for a humongous, body-splattering fall. Granted, it was a fall through a very cool movie premiere and some of the best sex I have ever had in my life, but spectacular nonetheless. So get a load of this: he was on a date with someone as recently as last week. Last week! And as if that wasn’t painful enough, I see him in the parking lot today with his tongue practically down Nicole Redding’s throat. Please tell me why I am such an idiot? I will believe anything. I am so going to get a huge bottle of vodka right now and drown myself.

  P.S. Thanks for finding the turquoise fabric for the bridesmaid’s dresses, but after what I just went through, I hope I never see the color turquoise again. I will not wear turquoise jewelry or admire it in the ocean or even admit it exists as a color.

  Subject: Re: Okay. You Were Right

  From: Lucy Frederick

  To: Leah Kleinschmidt

  Time: 9:19 pm

  I TOLD YOU SO. Don’t jump, just remember that I am always right, and your life will be a lot easier. Damn, that makes me so MAD. I KNEW he was going to screw you over, that bastard!! But hey, what’s done is done. I’m sorry, kid. I always thought there was something totally untrustworthy about him, but I can’t believe he turned out to be an asshole. Chin up. Don’t drink yourself to death.

  Chapter Nineteen

  OF course Leah didn’t answer her phone when Michael called several times through the last week of boot camp, and of course she found reasons to leave the lot early each day, too, so she wouldn’t risk running into him.

  And of course he came to her house. She expected it. She also expected Brad to remember her admonitions to keep him at the door, but Brad invited him in for a beer like they were old college buddies. They even watched some hoops, according to Brad, who, when confronted by Leah after Michael had left, very cheerfully confessed it all.

  “I like him,” Brad said, tipping his beer toward Leah. “Cool guy.”

  “Yeah, he’s cool all right,” Leah muttered, and stomped back to her bedroom, pissed at her roommate. “Thanks a lot, Brad!” she yelled at him, and Brad just waved at her over the top of his head.

  Michael showed up when she was packing a few things for the trip to Bellingham, Washington, later that week and knocked lightly on the doorjamb of her bedroom. He would have knocked on the door, but it was open, and Leah was standing in the middle of her room, wearing shorty gym shorts and a cropped T-shirt, trying to decide if she needed two black skirts or just one. When she heard the knock, she expected Brad, and groaned when she looked up, turning away from the sight of him.

  “Hey, baby,” he said.

  “Hel-loh, Michael,” she said in a sing-song voice that was totally sarcastic. “I see Brad not only forgot that I didn’t want to see you, but he also offered you a beer.”

  Michael looked at the beer in his hand. “He insisted. I mean, he really insisted.”

  That was Brad, all right—party on, with whoever was available, whether he knew the person or not.

  “He, ah . . . he pointed me back here,” Michael said.

  Great. Now Brad was directing traffic back to her bedroom. She seriously had to have a talk with him. She angrily folded a T-shirt and threw it into her suitcase.

  “I realize you’re upset—”

  “No! I’m not really upset,” she baldly lied.

  That seemed to surprise him. He actually looked a little hopeful.

  “I’m furious,” she said with the same smile. “See how my teeth are bared? And my knuckles are white because I am trying so hard not to punch you?”

  “Oh Christ—Leah, I didn’t date Ariel.”

  “Right,” she said, and threw some underwear into her bag like she was trying to knock a hole through it. “You just hung out with her, I guess?”

  “Sort of,” he admitted with a sigh.

  Sort of? He was supposed to say no, he never saw her, never talked to her, never—She turned a murderous look on him, and Michael tried to smile, but he couldn’t make it happen and just shook his head.

  Leah turned back to her Rambo packing.

  “Jack started seeing a woman who won’t go out without a pack. You know how women are.”

  “I know how women are?” she echoed incredulously, folding her arms over her middle.

  He had the decency to look chagrined. “I just meant . . . you know how some women have that pack mentality . . . never mind,” he said quickly, after seeing her expression. “Just leave it at Jack dating a woman who won’t go unless her friend goes, too, and so Jack begged me—begged me, Leah—to ride along. The first time I went, you were hardly even speaking to me, and even so, I just sat there like a bump on a log, making small talk, just for Jack, because all I could think of was you. The second time I went because Jack really likes this chick, and he practically got down on his hands and knees to beg me. He promised me it was the last time. And it was. And again, nothing happened—we had a few laughs, but that was it. It was nothing. It was such a nothing that I don’t even remember it.”

  “Really? You don’t remember you were out with her just last week?” Leah asked, fuming. “Between your dates with me?” she added, wiggling her fingers between dates.

  “We had dinner, the four of us. I never touched her,” he said, moving deeper into the room. “It was just a favor to a pal—go out, keep her company while he tried to make some headway with the woman he wants to get to know. It didn’t mean I was dating her. Regardless of what she says around work, she knows it, too.”

  Leah nodded, then stooped over, picked up a pair of shoes. “Then why did you give her a job?” she blurted, throwing a shoe into her suitcase and holding the other one, heel out, aimed right at Michael.

  He looked at the shoe and held up his hand. “I didn’t give her a job. Jack did. And without my knowledge.”

  She was still skeptical. “I can’t speak for Jack or how he reels them in,” he said, looking boyishly distressed.

  Leah tossed the shoe into the suitcase, put her hands on her hips. “So what about Nicole Redding? That was quite an intimate moment you were having a couple of days ag
o.”

  He groaned again, shoved a hand through his hair. “Don’t get me started on Nicole,” he muttered, but then looked at Leah sidelong and shook his head. “Nicole and I were an item a few months ago,” he admitted. “We were together for about two months.” He frowned slightly, as if the memory was unpleasant. “She was also seeing some director at the same time, and when I found out about it, I ended it with her. Frankly, I was looking for an excuse—I wasn’t that interested.”

  “You had to go out with her for two months to figure that out?” Leah asked disdainfully. “So what was that little tête-à-tête about?” she asked, motioning with her hand.

  “Well, to put it bluntly, Nicole appears to be between lays. And she’s hoping to hook up again.”

  “Wow,” Leah said. “That’s like . . . horribly honest.” She turned away, picked up a pile of clothing—dirty or clean, she had no idea—and dumped it carelessly into her suitcase. Nicole Redding, a huge movie star, was jonesing for her guy. How bizarre was that?

  “I told her to forget it,” he added quietly.

  Leah snorted. “That’s great, Michael. I hope for your sake she forgets it.”

  “Leah—”

  “Just out of curiosity,” she asked, turning to face him again, “when you guys were together,” she said, making quote marks with her fingers, “how did you keep from crushing her? She’s just a tiny little thing, and it seems like there would have been a danger of hurting her—”

  Michael closed the distance between them, put his arms around her in spite of her throwing up her arms to stop him, and held her tightly in his arms.

  “I guess, though, if you’re the Extreme Bachelor, you must have worked those tiny details out,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

  “Stop,” he breathed into her hair, and put his hand on the back of her head. “I didn’t lie to you, baby. I love you, and I’ve loved you all these years. Granted, I haven’t been a saint, but I haven’t lied to you. There is no one else. There is no Ariel, no Nicole, no one but you.”