by Lynn, Janice
“Never.”
“But you said—”
“I know what I said,” he interrupted, not liking how she toyed with him. “You seem to think I have the morals of an alley cat, but to my knowledge I’ve never been with another man’s wife. Unless…” his voice trailed off, he shrugged, and hoped she’d fill in the blanks.
“Unless I’m married?”
“Are you?”
She pulled her hand free. “Does it matter? You’ve already said you’d be with me regardless. Perhaps thinking you can’t have me is why you want me.”
“Does it matter?” From the look on her face when she said it, Jude realized she believed her words. Why didn’t she see how desirable she was? Not just sexually, although that alone was enough to drive a man to indentured servitude. “Of course it matters. I care about you.”
“Today is my last day at Playhouse.”
“That’ll only make it easier for us to date without concerns over workplace ethics.” He grinned, wanting to recapture the lightheartedness they’d shared prior to his question. A question he hadn’t meant to ask because he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. “Although, I have to admit, giving dictation will never quite be the same once you’re gone.”
Her serious expression didn’t budge. “I’m not looking for a relationship.”
Were they back to this? “Because you’re already committed to another man?”
He saw her struggle with his question. Damn it. No matter what she said he saw the truth stamped on her forehead. She was committed to someone else. How could he have fallen for a woman who belonged to another man?
She bit her lower lip. “I’m not married, but I might as well be because I’m not free to enter into anything more than a short term affair. Even if I could, I wouldn’t. I don’t do relationships.”
He stared into her amazing eyes and chose not to acknowledge anything except, “But you’re not married?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Thank God,” he sighed with relief. He could deal with her fear of relationships. Hell, he had years of first hand experience of that particular fear.
Her chin jutted forward and her eyes flashed with annoyance. “No man owns me. Not you or anyone other Joe Schmoe. Not now and not ever. Make no mistake about that.”
Her terse words bit into him, making him ache for the hurt she obviously experienced somewhere along the way to finding him. Fine, they had plenty of time. He wouldn’t rush things. He’d find a way to rebuild her trust in men and specifically, in him.
“Enough of this serious talk.” She smiled, all traces of her anger gone as quickly as it appeared. “Tell me about this bad boy bending me over your desk fantasy.”
* * *
“Jude Layman, this had better be a practical joke,” his mother screeched.
Jude pulled the phone away from his ear. He’d just arrived at the office and had barely sat down when his cell rang. Papers needing his attention and marked with yellow sticky notes were stacked to the side of his desk.
“And if it is, your father and I don’t find it in the slightest funny.”
“Mom, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Odd that she’d call today. A day when he felt happier than he could recall ever feeling. Like he could walk on water.
“It’s not true?” She sounded relieved. “When Bessie Majors called and told me there were pictures and everything, I just wanted to faint.”
“Pictures?” Jude glanced through a stack of memos on his desk. “Mom, what are you talking about?”
“The tabloid headlines.”
“What tabloid headlines?” Had someone given birth to a Martian’s baby or something? His mother loved reading those kind of rag magazines. He’d gotten a few chuckles from some of the headlines himself.
“The one saying my son is gay and was caught in flagrant with his college roommate.”
“What?” Jude dropped his phone and scrambled to pick it back up. “What did you say?”
“You heard me,” she chastised. “I know that you’ve resisted your father and my attempts to get you to settle down, but really, Jude. We never suspected it was because you were homosexual.”
“I’m not homosexual.”
His mother sighed and carried on as if he hadn’t just denied her insane accusation. “Your father and I love you regardless of your sexual preferences, but you should have told us. Prepared us so we wouldn’t be blindsided like this.”
“Mom, you’re not listening. I. Am. Not. Gay. I don’t know what your neighbor read or thinks she read, but I am not nor have I ever been attracted to a man.”
“Then why were you and Marcus caught together?”
He’d supposedly been caught with Marcus?
“Mom,” he laughed, “Marcus isn’t my type, and he isn’t gay. Now tell me where Bessie supposedly read this newsflash headline. I’ll check it out. I’m sure she’s just got me mixed up with someone else.”
Jude reassured his mother for several more minutes, telling her that he most definitely wasn’t gay, but that he had met a woman he’d like her to meet. When she was semi-satisfied that he wasn’t, in fact, batting for the other side, and low and behold he’d actually met a woman he wanted to bring home, he hung up his cell phone. He leaned back in his chair.
Most mornings he checked out the newsstands and might have noticed whichever paper his mother referred to. Today, he hadn’t paid any attention to anything except Angel.
Not that it mattered. His mother’s busybody neighbor had been stirring up unfounded gossip for as long as Jude could recall. At lunch, he’d check out the newsstands and give his mother another call and let her know who the unfortunate sap really was.
Probably that British actor named Jude. The one who’d already had more than his share of tabloid headlines after a nanny fiasco several years ago.
His cell phone rang again. Jude glanced at the number and grinned. Marcus. His buddy would get a laugh out of what his mother accused him of.
“Hey.”
“Hey nothing.” Marcus used his I’m-an-important-lawyer-and-you-should-listen-to-me voice. “Man, tell me Joy is behind this because I’m going to strangle you if I find out you had anything to do with this.”
“This what?” Jude flipped through the papers on his desk, pulling out the ones that needed his more immediate attention.
“You haven’t seen today’s paper?”
“No,” Jude answered, a bad feeling crawling up his neck. What was with the papers today?
“Who the hell did you tell that we’d been lovers since college?”
“What?” It couldn’t be true.
“Yeah, man. My phone is ringing off the wall. I’ve had several clients cancel.”
“Hell”
“Yeah,” Marcus agreed. Jude heard the rustling of a paper in the background, then, “According to one source, Marcus Long married, but after his wife realized his heart lie elsewhere she called it quits. Since his divorce, the successful New York attorney is reported to have been out most nights with Playhouse Magazine’s Editor-in-Chief, Jude Layman. The couple’s elicit ten plus year affair brings a whole new meaning to the magazine’s slogan of “where men come to play” and is perhaps a hint at a new direction the magazine intends to take.”
“Hell.”
“I think we’ve agreed on that.”
“What paper?”
“The second page of the New York Post, the New York Inquisitor has a similar, but more graphic article, the,” Marcus continued, naming another paper.
“You’re kidding, right?” Had Marcus called his mom and put her up to making the call? Maybe some kind of crazy payback for vowing to get him laid?
“I wish. My paralegals are giving me crazy looks and the delivery man hit on me.”
“What?” Jude burst out laughing. If he’d believed his friend at all, the image of a man in brown making moves on Marcus killed it.
“The guy offered to let me deliver my packag
e in the men’s room.”
Jude laughed harder.
“Man, this isn’t funny. He gave me his number. Like I’d want his number.”
“If I believed you,” Jude scrawled his name across a marked document, “I wouldn’t think so either.”
“Check out your fax machine. Proof is on the way.”
“Fine,” he said, wondering how much trouble Marcus had to go to have a fake headline made up. You could probably buy the things all over the web. Not that Marcus was much of a jokester, but this one topped the scales.
“Oh, and I’ve already released a legal statement rebutting the claims and threatening libel suit if a public retraction isn’t made.”
While still on the phone, Jude walked over to his fax machine and picked up the paper that came across.
He winced. Damn.
The picture looked real. Marcus must have hired a professional photographer to come up with something that authentic looking.
“Man, where did you lift that mug shot of me?”
Marcus’ image wasn’t clear and could have been anyone. Jude’s image was unmistakable, though.
“Jude, get with the program. This isn’t a joke. If I hadn’t spotted it on the newsstands this morning, I might have thought so, too.”
“Good one, dude.” Jude grinned as he read the ridiculous claims in the paper. He and Marcus secretly in love since rooming together in college when they’d first given in to their passion for each other after drinking too much at a fraternity party? A rap on his door had him looking up. Simon. “Got to go.”
“Wait,” Marcus said. “There’s more.”
“I’ll call later, Sugarbottoms.” He couldn’t resist adding the endearment. What a riot. “You can tell me all about your unholy obsession with me then.”
Smiling, Jude flipped his cell closed and nodded acknowledgment to his boss. His boss who was not smiling.
“What the hell is going on?”
Jude frowned. Surely Marcus hadn’t sent a copy to Simon? Simon didn’t have that good of a sense of humor and was so anti-homosexuality he’d take high offense at the thought of his magazine being used to promote men who liked men rather than the luscious babes on display.
Jude waved the fax. “If you’re talking about this, it’s a joke.”
Simon’s gaze went to the fax, but his scowl didn’t lighten. He dropped a stack of papers on Jude’s desk.
“No, I’m talking about this. Explain. Now.”
Five minutes later, Jude still scanned the papers Simon handed him. A tense Simon stood over him, re-demanding to know what the hell was going on. From the information on the sheets, it wasn’t hard to figure out.
“I can’t explain because this is the first I’ve seen of any of it.” But he’d find out who the mole was. He’d personally stick a boot up their ass. “I’ll check into this and see to it that the person is punished.”
Simon shook his head. The older man paced across Jude’s office, ran his finger over a nude sculpture an artist friend had given Jude when he’d taken over as editor-in-chief of Playhouse. Simon looked torn, upset, betrayed.
What the hell was going on?
Jude turned his attention back to the paper, searching for clues as to who might have done this.
“Not good enough.”
Jude looked up. “What?”
Simon’s jaw set in a hard line. “Never thought I’d be doing this,” he shook his head and took a deep breath, “but you’re fired.”
“Fired?” What the? “Because someone’s selling information about the magazine? Hell, it pisses me off, too, but I’m not threatening to quit. I’ll find out who did this and they’ll pay.”
“Save the theatrics, Jude.” Simon sighed, looking every one of his sixty years. “I know it was you.”
“Me?” Jude’s eyes widened with disbelief. “You think I did this?”
Simon nodded.
Un-believable.
“Why the hell would you think that?”
“I know about the deposits.”
“The deposits? What deposits?”
Simon pursed his lips and turned to face Jude. “Direct deposits into your account from Hustled Magazine. I know all about what you’ve been doing.”
“That makes one of us then, because I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“It makes me sick.” Simon began pacing again. “I trusted you, had you picked out as my son-in-law, the father of my grandchildren, and now you’ve betrayed me for a few measly thousand dollars. Why would you do that when you could have had it all?”
A sick feeling gurgled in Jude’s stomach. Just how many pranks were being pulled on him today? Why was he getting the feeling the joke was on him?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Simon snorted.
“Don’t take me for a fool, boy. I’ve already checked this out. I never would have confronted you if I didn’t know this to be fact. I even dirtied myself by speaking with someone at Hustled who verified they’ve offered you a cushy position.” Simon’s eyes darkened. His face became thunderous. “What I want to know is was it worth it?”
Jude stared blankly at his boss—former boss. “If I knew what you were talking about I might answer, but I have never leaked information to Hustled, nor have I ever accepted any money from them. Not for anything.” Jude leaned back in his chair, eyeing Simon. “I can’t believe you’d question my loyalty.”
“Question you? I’ve already handed all the information over to my lawyer to see if I can press criminal charges.”
Criminal charges?
“You’re finished in the publishing industry. If Hustled has any sense, they’ll scrub you before you even get started. Who wants a known traitor amongst them?”
This was real. All of it.
“I want a copy of everything.” His mind raced, trying to sort out what was going on.
“What?” Simon’s dyed brows dipped into a scowl.
“You’re making wild accusations that can not be based on fact because I have never lied to you or done anything to intentionally hurt Playhouse in any way.”
“I expected better from you. At the least, I thought you’d own up to what you’ve done when you’ve been caught so indisputably. Have to say, I’m disappointed.” Simon blew out a frustrated breath. “In more ways than one.”
“As your faith in me leaves me disappointed,” Jude replied. Had someone asked him, he’d have said Simon would stand behind him. How naïve. Even after he got this mess straightened out his respect for Simon was destroyed. How could the older man doubt him?
“Enough. I won’t let you turn this on me. You screwed the company,” his gaze dropped to where Marcus’ fax lay on Jude’s desk, “your best friend, my daughter, half our centerfolds, and yourself.” Simon waved his hand, gesturing to the office. “You have twenty minutes to pack your things and be out. Security is standing outside your office and will escort you from the building. You’ll be hearing from my lawyers.”
His expression full of pained betrayal, Simon turned to leave.
Jude stared at the man’s rigid back. “You’re making a mistake, Simon. You know I wouldn’t do this. Someone’s set me up.”
Simon paused a moment, shook his head, then left the office.
Jude’s gaze dropped to Simon’s papers. To the fax.
What the hell was going on?
* * *
Avery clicked the tiny screen on her watch to shut off her view of what was happening in Jude’s office. Thanks to Brutus the burly guard stationed outside the office doorway, she’d had to sneak into the bathroom to watch the byplay.
Her heart hitched at the look of denial, disbelief, and hurt on Jude’s face when Simon left his office.
Appearing stunned, Jude stared at the closed door and didn’t move.
She hit a button on her watch to change to a different camera, one where she could see his face closer up.
Jude’s teeth clenched tight, his eye
s looked dazed, and he had a determined set to his expression.
Taking a jump-drive from a desk drawer, he stuck it into his computer and did a back-up of his system. Slipping the rectangular piece into its protective cap, he did a quick once over of the office, gave a disgusted look, and didn’t pack a single thing.
With a roll of his jaw, he frowned, slipped the jump-drive into the pocket of his black slacks so it was hidden from sight, then walked out of the office empty-handed except for the stack of papers Simon left on his desk.
Avery slumped against the stall. She’d done it. Ruined Jude’s career at Playhouse.
Technically, Randi had done it with her fab-o computer skills, but Avery had given the go-ahead. Given the go-ahead for destroying more than just his Playhouse job, but his reputation. His life.
Nausea gripped her. Sweat beaded on her forehead. What had she done?
She turned, clutched her churning stomach, and heaved her breakfast into the toilet.
* * *
“What do you mean, my account is closed?” Jude demanded of the wide-eyed bank teller. “I need a copy of the last six months transactions.”
“Access to your account has been denied.” The teller gave him an apologetic smile and an interested once-over. “Apparently, there were some problems with the account. It’s been frozen until whatever the glitch is can be corrected. It’s an official override, so I can’t reopen the account.”
“You’re saying I have no access to my account?”
Another apologetic smile. “I’m sure the bank will get this issue corrected in a timely fashion.”
“My debit card?”
“All your funds through this account are frozen until further notice.”
What the hell was going on?
“This is the only bank account I have.” Jude fought to keep from losing his cool. It wasn’t the teller’s fault he was having a bad day. A day that made him feel trapped inside a bad movie where things were spinning out of his control faster and faster. As if someone was screwing with his life.
Someone was screwing with his life.
“Perhaps you’d like to speak to the bank manager?” the woman offered with a hopeful smile.
“Hey, aren’t you that gay editor for that men’s porn magazine?” A cheeky faced woman pointed her chubby finger at him. “The one who was in today’s paper?”