by Ember Leigh
Finally, the straw that broke Gary’s back. He walked a tough line as her manager, keeping both her professional interests and binding legal obligations in mind—but the IBC stint had gone too far.
“The New Yorker will never be hosting again.” A cool voice rang from the hallway. Paige didn’t even need to look to know who had joined the conversation. Bridgette sauntered into view, dressed to kill, hair and makeup perfect, her shadowed lids heavy as she appraised Josh. She didn’t bother greeting Paige or Gary. Josh watched her, expressionless.
“What are you doing up here?” he asked. “We’re having a meeting.”
“I came to find out what was holding you up,” she said. “I didn’t know you held meetings in your underwear.”
“We do things differently on the island,” Gary said distastefully. “Like putting the real talent in the newsroom. Didn’t you notice yet?”
Bridgette sniffed in his direction. Her gaze swept toward Paige, then back to Josh. “Why is she only wearing an obscene T-shirt?”
“Because I spent the night here,” Paige blurted out, finally ready to stir the pot. Bridgette carried a torch for Josh; she was sure nothing was going on between them, but what better way to poke the perfectly painted beast?
“You what?” Bridgette’s eyes were daggers. Her jaw clenched as she processed the news. “Is she serious?”
“She is.” Josh avoided Bridgette’s gaze. “Listen, can we all go downstairs and get out of my room? Let me at least put clothes on, for God’s sake.”
“I can’t believe you,” Bridgette said, voice low and shaky.
The tension in the room had sky-rocketed. Paige didn’t exactly understand what was unfolding, but one thing was clear. Bridgette was on the brink of a diva-grade meltdown, or murder.
“Well, I think there are a few other things you need to address this morning.” Gary inched toward the door. “Meet me downstairs as soon as you can, and we’ll finish our conversation.” He shot Paige a look before he left the room.
Josh continued to ignore Bridgette, who seemed ready to convert from a Barbie doll to The Hulk at any moment. Paige crossed her arms over her chest, unsure of what to do other than choosing defiance over submission.
“You should leave,” Bridgette spat, not bothering to look at her. “Joshi and I have some things to clear up privately.”
Josh offered no clarification, avoiding everyone’s gaze as he stared obstinately out the window.
“No problem,” she said, glad for the easy exit. On her way to the door, she remembered her underwear. Swiveling on her heels, she spotted her undies lying crumpled in the corner, and rushed to pick them up. On her way out, she waved them in the air, tossing an exaggerated smile to Bridgette. “Sorry, just forgot these!”
She slammed the door behind her as she left, mind swirling with confusion. Dangling her panties in Bridgette’s face had helped less than expected. Back in her room, she slammed her own door behind her, unsure where to direct her attention first at so early an hour with so many conflicting events.
Hosting—that’s what she’d mull over first. She was being sent back to the newsroom, Josh himself had confirmed it. If she had any ability left to think clearly, she should take that as her signal to excuse herself. From the show, the island, and most of all, Josh and Bridgette.
You thought you had a chance to take over the lead host spot, and now that you know you’ll never be able to host this show, what’s left? The newsroom. Get out of this contract now.
She didn’t care how much she had to pay a lawyer back in New York. She wouldn’t stay on this show as a second-bit accessory, and she’d do anything now to get out of it.
But what about Josh?
She shouldn’t care about him, but she did. A little too much. Letting that sit inside her head made her feel all sorts of things—angry, vulnerable, incredibly daft. Staying on a show like this for a guy like him would be the ultimate definition of loser. Was she really going to let this guy hijack her career and her heart?
She had to do what was best for her. Feelings be damned. So she was going to high tail it back to New York the first chance she could. No use sticking around where her talents not only withered but were ignored, and snooty novices walked all over her. Not to mention the fact that the longer she stayed here, the higher the risk was she’d completely lose her mind around Josh.
She dressed, eager to join heads with Gary and figure out a plan. Though she should forget it and move on, she was too curious to know what kept Josh on Bridgette’s side. He was sharp-tongued enough to defend himself openly, at times, excessively so. So why the tight lips around Bridgette? The whole gig reeked of bullshit, and despite the way Josh had started to dig himself a special place inside her, she had to leave him behind. Problem solved.
Her stomach twisted as she readied herself to head downstairs, slipping into a black skirt with a lime-green top. The solution seemed so easy in her head, so why was there an intuitive kneejerk reaction to the scheme? Besides, she was hurt. She hadn’t had the chance to ask him once the prima donna Barbie Doll had burst in, but if Josh could reveal Bridgette was hosting that morning, he knew the day before—and hadn’t mentioned anything.
As she left her room, she heard the low undertones of Josh’s voice down the hall, followed by Bridgette’s high-pitched whine. It sounded like she was screaming, but Paige couldn’t make out what about. She paused in the hallway to listen. Josh was shouting too. She crept closer to the door, dying to get a snippet of the argument.
“I am doing my job.” Josh’s voice had a fierce edge. The anger seeped out of the hotel room. “The only distraction as of late has been all this petty bullshit you insist on tossing around like a goddamn monkey.”
There was a deathly pause. “If you ever relate me to a monkey again, you are done for. How dare you speak to me like that after all I’ve done for you?”
“Done for me? Sorry honey, your uncle is the one who’s helped me the most. Last I checked, I still do favors for him, not for you.”
Another pause. Paige could imagine the smoke curling out of Bridgette’s ears.
“You might not be doing very many favors for him if you keep it up with these distractions. You’re like a teenager these days.”
Paige inched closer, more enthralled than an episode of Jerry Springer. The truth was trickling out, and hearing Bridgette lose her cool was way more satisfying than she’d expected.
“Teenagers don’t run and host a television show.” His response came out gruff, exasperated. “So what’s really the problem here, huh? Do you really care for the quality of my work, or is this just about Paige?”
Bridgette let out an offended squeak. “I could care less about that bitch! This is only ever about the quality of your work. Am I the only one who cares around here anymore?”
“I care. You know I do. It’s just that my personal life has nothing to do with business. I’m not making mountains out of mole hills like you. “
“Your liaison with a subordinate is hardly a mole hill. And you’re wrong—your business is my business. This needs to be fixed. Immediately.”
The door swung open and Bridgette stormed out.
Paige tried to look casual in the hallway but she couldn’t have been caught more red-handed. Bridgette stomped down the hallway, bumping into her as she fled.
“Sorry,” Paige said ironically, practically able to feel her fury in her wake.
Bridgette stopped, spun on her heels, and glared. “You better stay away from him.” She pursed her lips and pointed a finger at her. “You’re nothing but a big, fat, overrated distraction.”
She spun on her heels once more and stormed to her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her. Paige waited to see if Bridgette might pop her head back out and add anything else to that sentiment, but she stayed inside.
As she passed Bridgette’s room, Paige hoped her words would make it through the thick door. “Get it right, bitch. I’m a successful, perfectly-sized, beloved
distraction.”
****
When Paige got to make-up, David was organizing his work space with a scowl.
“Everything okay, buddy?” She slid into the chair, more than ready for him to work his magic and hide both the worry and frustration making itself visible on her face.
“Yeah.” He sighed as he snapped the hair straightener a few times, steam fizzing into the air. Frustration honed his lips into a thin line. After a moment, he spat out, “Bridgette is the biggest bitch.”
Paige laughed. “I see she’s leaving a trail of fans everywhere she goes today.”
“I don’t even want to get into how awful our session was earlier,” he said, voice low. “She almost castrated me for suggesting we straighten her hair.”
“She’s not happy today, that’s for sure,” Paige muttered, watching in the mirror as David brushed foundation over her face and neck. “Something weird is going on here, and I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be sticking around.”
“Oh, please tell me you’re not leaving.”
“They’re taking me off hosting. Now that Bridgette is well enough, I suppose she’ll be taking back her post, even though she’s clearly not qualified.” Page examined her nails as he dabbed gloss over her lips.
“If you leave, I’ll just have Bridgette and the strange reality TV crew that films in the afternoon. I might not survive a week!”
David turned his attention to her hair and set her up with a side part, hair slick and sleek behind her ears.
“Cute hair,” she commented when he was done. “Too bad it’s just for the newsroom.”
“Even if you’re in the newsroom, you deserve to shine,” David said into her ear. “Now go kick some ass.”
Paige arrived to set hesitantly, unsure if she was ready for the freak show it was sure to be. Crew members darted back and forth between tasks, the main set already gleaming and lit in preparation for the day’s work. A strange energy was palpable—probably it had something to do with Bridgette’s reign of terror.
As she lingered in the sidelines, she was not only curious to see what Josh would have to say to her, but dying to hear how he could talk his way out of this one. From what she knew of him, of who she suspected he truly was inside, he had an explanation worth listening to.
She wanted off the island, but did she really want to distance herself from him? Something inside begged her to get to know him better, a steady whisper against the chaotic kneejerk reactions she was otherwise prone to having.
What about that sexual chemistry? Did she want to leave that behind too? Shivers went up and down her spine, recalling all the exquisite hours of pleasure that had come and gone in a blur. The man put her in a sex trance, something on par with the ancient tomes of India—if he looked at her right, she’d strip wherever she was and climb on top of him. That’s dangerous and you know it. Stay focused on the job—you married it, after all.
Paige paced the set as she waited for the day’s drama, mind returning to the fact that Josh had never mentioned the hosting switch, despite spending a whole day with her. Don’t convince yourself Josh Lambert is something he’s not. He’s an asshole. A greedy executive who breathes lies. Don’t forget that.
That mantra might be the only way to relieve the kernel of hurt nestled deep inside, something that jarred a cold fear into her. Any negative emotion associated with a man must be effaced and disposed of. It could only be a sign of weakness, either in her or her career.
The doors to the set burst open, and looking thoroughly sour, Bridgette stomped through with Josh in her wake. He adjusted his tie as he followed her, a trendy, skinny tie that complemented his polo shirt and khakis. He looked at Paige and then quickly averted his gaze.
As the two settled into their seats, Paige sauntered to the side of the set, mouth pursed.
“So, Mr. Lambert, you never formally told me where I should report today.” She cocked her head, waiting for a reaction. He gave none. “Boss? Do you hear me?”
“Newsroom,” Bridgette sneered, snatching up a hand mirror.
Josh didn’t say anything but sighed. Paige watched him closely.
“Strange for you to be so quiet,” she said. “Usually you have no problem with the snarky retorts.”
“Come with me,” he snapped, standing up. Bridgette made a small noise of protest but he ignored it and walked across set and toward the newsroom. Paige followed him, both confused and curious.
When the heavy door clanged shut behind them in the newsroom, Josh grabbed the sides of her arms, rooting her to the spot. A few workers milled around in the background. He shouted, “Everybody out. Five minutes, please.”
The crew members obediently shuffled out of the newsroom, and once the door had clanged shut again, Josh appraised her heavily. “I’m sorry,” was all he said.
She watched him suspiciously, the warmth of his hands nearly scarring her biceps the longer he touched her. “Fine. But for what?”
“For all of it. For cancelling your show, for dragging you into this mess, for being bullied by Bridgette, for not hosting, for being stuck on this island.”
“Why is she hosting?”
“She has to.”
“Says who?”
He was quiet, lips clamped shut but eyes wide and imploring.
“You can’t say,” she whispered, eyes going back and forth across his face. “Jesus, Josh. I knew it.”
“I didn’t say anything.” He pulled her closer. She inhaled sharply, catching a whiff of his cologne.
“I need to leave.” Simply saying the words made her stomach wrench violently. “Permanently.”
“Please don’t.”
She furrowed her brows. “Why shouldn’t I?”
“I want you to stay here,” he said, voice low. “I know that is the craziest thing I could ever ask of you, but I want you to stay here.”
“Because you need a news anchor.”
“Because I want to be around you. As much as humanly possible.”
She faltered at his words, the snotty remark on her tongue dissolving instantly. He was being honest, and seeing the lapse in his hard façade was inviting. Reassuring, even. Especially because it meant she wasn’t a complete idiot for feeling the way she did. She drifted closer to him.
“I have no role here, Josh,” she said, voice shaky. “You can’t expect me to stay.”
“I don’t expect you to, but I’m hoping you will.” His fingers trailed down her arms to her hands. “Give me any amount of time, even if it’s just a couple days. Please.”
Her eyes fluttered shut, and she was ready to say yes before the words had sunk in. When his lips connected with her neck, she released a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.
His arms circled her waist, and she melted against his body, all tension and doubt dissolving in the embrace. Any prior reasons for leaving disappeared in a hot puff.
A million thoughts swirled in her head, each one crazier than the last, all of them toying with the idea of just hanging around the island for a few more days. What was the harm? It went against her business instincts. It went against every ounce of hard-headed logic in her body…but damn it, there it was. She wanted to stay. Not forever…but just a bit longer.
“I can’t commit to that,” she whispered, breath coming out against his chin.
“I had to try.” He squeezed the soft flesh of her hips. “You drive me crazy, Paige. I can’t stand it. Maybe it would be better if you left.”
Her heart twisted strangely in her chest. It was a brutally honest comment, one that stung at the same time that it healed, like cutting the infection out of a wound. But how could she respond? She had to leave. It would be in their best interests. Especially since Josh was shackled to a show on an island where there was no room for Paige to spread her wings.
“Is that supposed to make me stay?” She lifted a brow.
“It is what it is.” His voice carried a strange edge, betraying the depth she had yet to explore in
this man. “You make me feel something I haven’t felt in a very, very long time.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “I don’t understand it yet, and I almost don’t like it.” He inhaled deeply. “If you disappear, I can pretend like this never happened. But I don’t want you to disappear.”
Something between nausea and fear sprang forth in her, a sick wash of truth that came from somewhere very deep, and not often seen, inside of her. Tears pricked her eyes. She couldn’t say anything for a few moments out of fear of betraying the tears in her throat.
Finally he shifted and wrapped his arms around her. “Think about it,” he said. “I understand if you can’t. God knows you’ve put up with enough shit here.”
He kissed her forehead, and then opened the door to signal the workers back inside. The heart-shredding honesty on his face from moments before had been replaced with a cool, unaffected look. Adjusting his skinny tie, he scanned the newsroom with work-oriented eyes.
“What do you say, one more segment?” He raised his eyebrows hopefully.
She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. “If it means I get to keep my room until I leave here, I guess I have to.”
Chapter Ten
Josh rubbed his thumb in a circle against his palm as he waited for the phone conference to begin. Bridgette sat in a high-backed chair across the room, staring icily at him with legs crossed. He avoided eye contact with her, letting the heavy silence settle into his head.
Saying Bridgette had been off her game during filming was putting it mildly. The run-through had been a nightmare. One of the guests threatened to leave because filming was so delayed. Bridgette had been a catty beast the entire day. Paige had retreated to unknown places on the island after her segment wrapped, making him worry she’d perhaps left without informing him. Now at five p.m. Josh was ready for a stiff drink and a tranquilizer shot in the ass.
Just get through the phone conference with Bridgette’s uncle…smooth it over, fix it and move on.