by Dawn Atkins
The truth, she saw as the woman spoke, was that Deborah couldn’t have been more perfect for Cole if he’d written her script. “I’m ready to reduce my travel and settle into a life with someone special.” They would fit like a key in lock, a hand in glove, tab A into slot—never mind.
Kylie turned off the video, aching with jealousy. So stupid. She didn’t want what Cole wanted. Not now. She didn’t want to give up her ambition. She didn’t want to disappoint him either working so many hours.
There was another problem, another fear, she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but she didn’t have to because Janie bounded through the door. She hit rewind on Deborah’s tape.
“I can’t believe that’s over,” Janie said, rushing to give her a hug, then plop into the chair beside her. “What a relief.”
Kylie was grateful for the distraction and held on a little longer than normal to her sister, squeezing her eyes tight, taking in the powder-sweet smell and all that warm love.
“I can’t thank you enough, Kylie,” Janie said. “You and Cole were incredible.”
“We were glad to help.”
“With this handled, it’s all coming together. The new ads are working, the Web site’s bringing in more calls, and I think the business plan will help me prioritize.” Janie’s color was a happy pink and her inhalations were full and deep.
“That was the idea. After the Inside Phoenix story shows, you should get another surge in membership.”
“Which should get me over the hump…and, minimum, keep me out of bankruptcy court. All thanks to you.” Her eyes glowed with gratitude and relief.
“I’m your sister and I love and fully support you,” she said, mocking herself. “Even when I’m too bossy.”
“Even then.” Janie laughed. “I know how to breathe, Kylie. And don’t forget I have an inhaler for emergencies.”
“I just worry about you. It’s an old habit.”
“I know. That’s not all bad. In fact, if I thought it would make you stay, I’d stage a case of pneumonia.”
Her heart pinched with pain. “Janie.”
“I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too.”
Janie grabbed her into another hug, this one so tight her own lungs seemed to collapse. What if she stayed?
Janie leaned back, brushing tears from her cheeks. “Look, I’ll come visit every three months, how’s that? I’ve got that airline credit card for business now—great idea, by the way—so I’ll have frequent-flyer tickets up the ying-yang.”
“I’ll come to see you, too, as soon as it’s feasible.” What if she never left?
“You can be obsessive about your work. I’ll be getting on your case, you know.”
“Sounds good,” she said. Very good.
The VCR clicked, signaling it had reached the beginning of Deborah’s tape.
Janie’s brows lifted. “You were watching a tape?”
“Just checking out Cole’s and Deborah’s Close-Ups.” She popped out Deborah’s tape and handed it to Janie, embarrassed. “She’s perfect for him, isn’t she?”
“I wouldn’t have matched them otherwise,” Janie said gently, sliding the tape into its case.
“I just wanted to be sure.” She sighed. “You were right. Sex isn’t simple.”
“Are you in love with him?”
“No,” she said sharply. “I mean, I don’t know. What’s the point? It’s a transition thing, right?”
Janie studied her face. “I’m sorry, Kylie.”
“Don’t be. It’s for the best.”
“The best?” She sighed. “I don’t know what’s best anymore.” Her face took on a faraway look. “I have a…situation.”
“With the reporter? We agreed that was a bad idea.”
“I know. But we’ve spent some time together. And… he’s just…well…he really sees me. I can’t explain it, but I’m thinking that after the story comes out maybe we could…date.”
“Date? You don’t date, Janie. You fall in love. Too soon and all wrong. He’s a Stubborn Loner or a Wounded Stubborn or something, isn’t he?”
“I don’t know what he is. But I want to find out.”
Not again. She couldn’t leave Janie with another heartbreak in the works. “Don’t do it, Janie. Don’t risk it.”
But there was a mulish glint in her sister’s eyes that told her she was wasting her words. Janie’s heart was in line for another bruising and there wasn’t a thing Kylie could do about it. Except stay. And how could she do that?
13
JANIE POPPED Deborah’s video back on the shelf. It snicked into place between its neighbors. The video had showed Kylie the truth. That was the value of the Close-Up. Seeing was believing. There were rows upon rows of truths right there to be perused, stilled, fast-forwarded and rewound to study and ponder. Snick, snick, snick. Tape after tape of truth.
Maybe she should look at Seth’s Close-Up. Watching his video, maybe she’d see whether or not he was her usual escape artist. She needed an objective view of him. A rational opinion to override her impulse—which was to throw caution to the wind and be with him.
Except where was the tape? She hadn’t boxed or labeled it—she’d spaced that. It wasn’t still in the camcorder. Had Gail accidentally taped over it? For sure Gail hadn’t seen it. One look at that kiss and she’d have been all over Janie with “I told you so,” and “you’re in love,” and “just another Personal Touch miracle.”
“Marlon Brandon, line one,” Gail shouted down the hall—what did she have against the intercom? “I’m off to my gyno. Wish me luck and watch the phones.”
Janie took the call in her office, certain the man wanted to get started dating the women she’d yellow-stickied.
“Listen, Jane, I got a strange call you should know about…from a reporter. Asking about the lawsuit.”
“A reporter? Was it Seth Taylor?” She held her breath.
“That’s him. He said he’d heard about our meeting and wondered about the outcome. I told him it all worked out good, but I don’t get why you’d tell him about the, um, misunderstanding.”
“I didn’t.” Her lungs pinched tight and she fought for air.
“Then who did?” He gave an awkward laugh. “The guy asked me, get this, if you’d ever offered me sex for a fee.”
“Sex for a…? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“You don’t, um, do that, do you? Because I—”
“Of course not.”
“I figured. So, weird call. Anyway…the thing is I’m thinking hair plugs. To look younger? What do you think?”
“I think you look just fine as you are. I have several Potentials in mind for you….” She managed to dissuade him from that procedure and a stomach staple, while her mind reeled. How had Seth heard about the lawsuit? Gail wouldn’t have said anything, though Seth and she had chatted a few times, for sure.
Then both lines rang at once. She put Marlon on hold and took the second call.
“Hey, beautiful, guess what I’m holding?” Harry Hand Job again. Good Lord. Gail was close to getting him to see a therapist, so Janie didn’t want to hang up on him. “Keep holding it then.” She pushed the button for the third line, but it disappeared. The caller had either hung up or was leaving a message. Darn. She returned to Marlon and scheduled a new Close-Up, then convinced Harry to redirect his energy. When she hung up, she found the third caller had indeed left a voice mail.
“This is Deborah Ramsdale, Jane.” The woman’s voice shook with rage. “What the hell is going on? A reporter called me with some outrageous story about your sister being a dating…shill. And sleeping with Cole. I’ve left Cole a message. Another message. Don’t you people take calls, for God’s sake?” Click.
Holy heavens, what in the…? Seth had called Deborah? And Marlon. How had he even known about them? And why hadn’t he asked her these bizarre questions? Hinting at prostitution? And knowing about Kylie and Cole? Surely Gail hadn’t blabbed….
Ab
ruptly, she remembered where the word shill had come from. Kylie had joked during the pre-Marlon consult with Cole. Right after Seth left. Had he returned for some reason? And eavesdropped?
Her mind reeled and she fumbled in her drawer for her inhaler, sucking in medicated mist, forcing herself to breathe slowly and exhale completely. Not easy when shock sent icy panic along her nerves. Seth had convinced her he believed her—worse, that he cared about her—and meanwhile he’d been investigating her like she was a criminal.
Her gaze fell on the ratty banana plant, then flew to the window, where Seth’s roses still gleamed. Hokey gifts. Trojan horses hiding his perfidy. She’d told herself he was different than her usual bad boy. He was different, all right. He was a master manipulator. And she’d fallen for it, hook, line and clearance-priced banana plant.
She wanted to cry, but she didn’t have time. She had to call Deborah and straighten her out and she had to stop Inside Phoenix from printing whatever trash Seth had—
“Jane?”
She looked up to see the man himself in her doorway. If she’d been standing, she’d have tossed his plant and his roses at his adorably tousled head. “I just talked to Marlon and Deborah Ramsdale left me a message. What the hell are you doing?”
“Checking out what I heard.”
“You eavesdropped on a private conversation? Why didn’t you talk to me?”
“I had to get the facts straight first.”
“The facts? What facts? You jumped to bad conclusions based on misunderstandings.”
“I wanted too much to believe you, Janie. I had to verify things. Now I’m here to get your side.”
“My side? Now? After you’ve freaked out my clients?” She was so angry she could hardly speak, but she had to defend herself. “Personal Touch is not an escort service. Nobody gets paid to date anyone, let alone sleep with them.” Her voice shook. “My sister is no shill. Gail got overly ambitious with the bookings and Kylie stood in…to be polite. The married matches had to do with a Web site snafu and as for the phone sex—”
“A mix-up, I know,” he said softly. “I checked with the classified ad rep. Gail explained about the Web site error. Marlon Brandon thinks you’re a saint, by the way.”
“Despite your efforts to convince him I’m a hooker?”
“I believe you mean madam, and I was just doing my job. I do need you to explain the joke about your sister sleeping with Cole Sullivan.”
She caught her breath.
“What?” He honed in on her, his eyes a sparkling blue “gotcha.” How had she thought he was tenderhearted, or vulnerable, or even hokey? He was a cynic. He expected the worst from people, including her.
“They slept together, not that it’s any of your business, but it’s over.” She would hold back nothing. “Deborah was out of town and I asked Kylie to meet Cole to apologize and they hit it off. That’s no crime, though I’m sure you intend to make it sound like one.”
“I just want the truth, Jane.”
“No. You want to make me look bad.”
“That’s how the game is played. You put your best foot forward and I look under the carpet for your dirt.”
“There was no dirt. There were a couple of mix-ups.”
“That you should have told me about.”
“Oh, yeah? And when I didn’t tell you anything racy, you decided to kiss me? To loosen me up? And all that stuff about my face being your favorite view…” Her voice wobbled, so she swallowed.
“Was true. I had feelings for you. I still do.”
“How am I supposed to believe that?”
“Look at me.” He stepped closer, dismayingly sincere and steady. Like a man she could love.
But she didn’t dare. He’d suspected her of terrible things and shared those suspicions with her clients. She shook her head, feeling betrayed and sick and so sad. “If you could believe for one second that I was capable of the things you accused me of, then we have nothing to say to each other.”
“You’re upset and I understand that, but this is who I am. I’m a reporter. I have to prove things to myself.” His blue eyes glittered with determination, with emotion. He was asking her to accept him, love him anyway.
But it wasn’t enough, she told herself. All her charts, everything she’d studied before starting Personal Touch told her not to believe his eyes, his face, his words. She’d spent the past year determining what made couples bond and relationships work. It was time she applied what she’d learned to her own life. This was one bad relationship she would not start.
“I don’t want someone who doesn’t believe the truth when he hears it from me.”
He looked at her, opened his mouth to object, then closed it again and the light in his eyes disappeared like a blown match. “Makes sense.”
Fight me, argue with me, insist. Hell, kiss me.
“You confirmed what I’d learned. Thanks. I guess I’d better hit it. Keep the candles away from the trash. Water this maybe.” He fingered one tattered banana leaf. “If it can be saved.” He shot her a shadow of his mocking smile. “Don’t worry about the story, Janie. You’ll be happy with it.”
And then he left. Just like that. Took his gorgeous backside in those well-worn jeans right out the door. He was done with the story and she was done with him.
She hurt, of course—throbbed inside—but nothing like how she’d feel if she’d let him into her life and then he left. At least she’d learned that much.
And now she had to get Deborah on the phone and explain what had happened, try to rescue the match with Cole. Compatibility won out every time, she knew. She had the facts and Deborah was a rational woman—practical, efficient and determined to settle down. Just like Cole. If she just wouldn’t panic.
Except it turned out that that Deborah had checked out of her London hotel. Abruptly. With many meetings still pending, according to her flummoxed secretary. It looked as though Janie might be too late. Deborah seemed to have already panicked.
KYLIE DROVE to Cole’s house after the shuttle had dropped her off from the airport, mixed emotions swirling through her like smoke from competing fires. She’d been energized by the meetings with S-Mickey-B. Everyone had fawned over her Home Town Suites campaign, which included an edgy competitor comparison and a promotion that invited viewers to report their experiences to a “Bad Bed Hotline.” The team had softened her concept a bit, which was a major glitch in her mind. She’d decided not to object yet. No point getting argumentative so early. Compromise was essential when you were part of an agency—especially a powerhouse like S-Mickey-B. She’d work around it somehow.
She’d also enjoyed the visit to Gina’s town house for margaritas. Kylie had seen the darling room she would live in until she found a place of her own. That made the move more real in her mind. She had a job, an office and a home, however temporary.
All she had to do was finalize the Personal Touch details and the last work for K. Falls PR, give S-Mickey-B a start date, and she’d be cleared for landing in her new life.
Except for the goodbyes. To her assistant Candee, her favorite clients, to Janie. And, of course, Cole. She would stay in touch with Candee and Janie and she’d start K. Falls PR again in the future, probably in L.A., but she’d never see Cole again.
That was the hard part.
So now, as she exited the freeway in the direction of his apartment, her heart felt like a giant knot of twine around a stone—tightly twisted and heavy in her chest. The plan was to walk in, say goodbye and leave. It was the only way. If they kissed, they’d want sex and if they had sex, they’d want more sex and that was just plain sad. Deborah was arriving soon. They had to let go. Hanging on was just childish.
In brief minutes, she pulled into Cole’s complex and forced a smile for the security guard who knew her by now. She wound through the narrow streets to Cole’s unit, feeling her heart race. She’d spent her entire flight gearing up for the farewell and she was as ready as she’d ever be.
At h
is door, she knocked, braced for a quick hug—no all-body connection this time, no siree. She still wore a suit to remind herself how serious she was. Except she realized abruptly it was the one she’d worn when they’d met, sans ice cream stain and with a new zipper, thanks to her dry cleaner. And that made her hurt all over.
The door flew open, interrupting her nostalgia, and there was Cole, making it worse.
“Kylie!” His face lit from inside at the sight of her. He seemed to want to embrace her, but her expression made him lurch back to let her in.
She turned to close the door behind her, aware that normally he’d have slammed her against it, ripped a jacket button, retorn the zipper maybe, in his frantic need to get at her. A sad shiver rippled through her.
Radar yipped for attention at her feet, so she bent to pat him, then stood on the entry tile, suddenly shy.
Cole seemed uncertain, too. They jolted forward at the same time for an awkward hug—wooden marionettes slapped together, then jerked apart.
“How was your trip?” Cole asked, running his hands down his sides, nervous, and clearly wanting to touch her.
“Good. Productive. Very good.”
“I taped Last Comic Standing for you. I figured you’d be too busy in L.A. to catch it.” He fisted and released his fingers again and again.
“We worked late that night, yeah, so thanks. You’re so thoughtful…. I—” Get off the subject, stay clear. “We were launching a new e-music company. Web site, major media, big splash, national stuff. Very exciting.” She kept talking about work, standing there in the entryway, because it always helped to share ideas with Cole and because she didn’t know what else to do. Her words tasted like cardboard in her mouth.
“Sounds like you’re excited to get out there.” He managed a half smile that didn’t light his dark eyes. Are you? Are you leaving me? That was what he wanted to know and her heart throbbed.