Dear Prince Charming

by Donna Kauffman

  Thankfully, she let the subject drop, but surprised him by tucking the condoms into his shirt pocket and patting his chest with a little smile. “I’ve got some calls to make. We need to go over tomorrow’s schedule. Prep a little. We also have to figure out your wardrobe for The Late Show since we weren’t prepared for that.” She plucked a grape from the tray, but Jack took it from her before she could eat it. “Hey.”

  Maybe it was time he took a page from Eric’s book. Throw a little caution to the wind and go after what he wanted, when he wanted it. And what he wanted was Valerie Wagner. And when he wanted her was right here, right now. So bad he could almost taste her.

  He shut out the little voice in his head shouting, “Slow down; think about this; don’t do anything stupid!” Because he knew if he stopped now, he’d never start up again. And he also knew he’d always regret it if he did.

  He moved in close, then closer, backing her up step by step, until she came up against one of the tall pillars separating the foyer area from the sunken living room. “So what you’re saying is, we have the evening to ourselves?” He fed her the grape.

  She caught it between her teeth, holding his gaze steadily as she braced her hands on his arms. Only when he lowered his hand did she eat it. “What I said was we have to prepare for tomorrow. And I have some work to do. Then you have the rest of the night off.” She smiled. “Maybe you can meet up with Eric and Brice and go clubbing.”

  Jack’s grin turned wry. “Well, I would, but it seems I forgot to pack my leathers.” He enjoyed the slight widening of her eyes, the way her pupils dilated a little. “Hmm,” he said, lifting his hand once again, this time to slip through the hair at the back of her neck. “You like leather, do you?”

  “Jack,” she began, only to moan in pleasure as he kneaded the nape of her neck, then slid his fingertips up her scalp.

  “You’re a little tense.”

  “Gee,” she said, managing a sardonic look. “I can’t imagine why.”

  “Well,” he said, moving in closer still. “I don’t know about you, but one of the ways I could prepare for the rest of our busy schedule here in New York would be to unwind as fully as possible tonight.”

  “I bet,” she said, her tone still dry as dust. Her body, however, was relaxing, her hips pushing slightly into his. “You know,” she said idly, as he slid his other hand down her arm, then tucked it behind her waist. “At this rate, we’re just going to give Eric the satisfaction of being right.”

  Jack’s grin turned downright wicked and he finally leaned his mouth down to hers. “Yeah. But he’s used to it. He’s always right. At least this way we can all be satisfied.” Then he finally claimed those lips he’d been dreaming about since the moment they’d been interrupted the last time. And it was better than he remembered. Worth every risk he’d decided to take and more.

  She relaxed immediately, all those soft curves pushing up against his hard ones. Some growing harder by the second. Thank you, God, was all he could think. She fitted too perfectly in his arms, the sense of rightness almost overwhelming him. Finally, as if he’d been waiting for this exact moment a whole lot longer than a couple of days. In fact, it felt like he’d been waiting for this his whole life.

  The warning bells wanted to go off again, but he blocked them out. He wasn’t drunk, and he was no longer foolish or stupid. He could satisfy his needs without feeling the need to marry the reason behind them.

  But he could sure as hell make it take as long as possible to satiate his hunger. And yet it was all he could do to take his time. Especially when what he wanted was to strip that tidy little suit off of her and begin a very thorough exploration of the body that had begun to haunt him somewhere along the way. In fact, he couldn’t remember ever feeling so . . . well, desperate was the word that came to mind.

  She ran her hands up his arms and he pulled her more fully into his. Their kiss went deeper, and deeper still, until his head was swimming. God, he was so incredibly gone for her it was ridiculous. But it felt too damn good to care. It wasn’t alcohol clouding his judgment this time. Oh, he was buzzed all right, but it was on pure, unadulterated Valerie. He was finally, mercifully right where he wanted to be. He’d sort the rest out later. After. Surely after he’d tasted her, had his fill of her, he’d finally be able to get his head on straight where she was concerned. It was really just a matter of supply and demand. He’d be back on an even keel once he’d gotten the balance back in order.

  He slid his hands down her back, cupped her sweet backside and pulled her tightly into him, the softness of her making him groan deep in his throat. She moaned, too, arched her back a little, and he had to fight not to beg. Don’t make me wait any longer.

  Her thoughts seemed to be traveling along a similar path. She ran her fingers up over his shoulders and into his hair, and—

  “Ow!” He pulled back instinctively when her fingers tangled in his gelled and sprayed hair.

  “Hold still. My ring is—” She carefully unwove the offending piece of jewelry from his hair and he swore he heard her snicker.

  As soon as he was free and could lift his head, he caught the glint still in her eyes. “Pain is amusing? I didn’t know about this side of you.”

  She shook her head, not remotely put off by his comment, judging from the mirth still glinting in her eyes. It was one of the things he liked best about her. They understood each other, always giving as good as they got. Damn, but that turned him on, too.

  “Well, there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me,” she said. “But no, inflicting pain isn’t funny. It’s just that I’ve never made out with a guy who has more products in his hair than I do.”

  He smiled a little. “Ah, well, I can see where that could be faintly amusing.” He tugged her arms around him again. “So, is that what we’re doing? Making out?”

  The humor in her eyes faded incrementally and the sass factor in her tone turned a hair more wry. “Well, it sure felt like that to me. What would you call it?”

  Her body was pressed into his and he was so hard it hurt. So, what would he call it? It shocked him a little that he’d called her on it, even teasingly. Yet he couldn’t deny it had bugged him. Because why? Did he want this to be more than making out, more than getting it on, more than a hop in the sack? Which begged the question, just what in the hell did he want it to be? Making love? Surely he wasn’t that wigged out over her. He was just horny as all hell. Right? And after their prolonged foreplay, what red-blooded guy wouldn’t be?

  His pulse spiked a little, and this time it wasn’t because of the way she was pressed up against him. The first faint thread of alarm crept past his carefully erected barriers. He knew what he was doing here. They both did. Valerie was finally in his arms, and if he was any gauge of things—and he was—she was about five minutes from being naked. He was not going to screw up what might be his only chance for simultaneous nudity because of some stupid emotional surge that could easily be chalked up to lust-crazed confusion. “Just sounded a little high school to me,” he joked. He moved his hips. “And what I was feeling was a whole lot more adult.”

  She scanned his eyes for a brief second and he found himself holding his breath, hoping he hadn’t ruined things.

  “Well,” she said after what seemed an eternity, the teasing glint returning. “I have a very adult idea.”

  He resumed breathing. “Do you?”

  She ran her hands down his chest, then flicked open one shirt button, then another. “Actually, it’s a confession.”

  Her fingernails were lightly grazing his bare chest, so it took him a second to find his voice. “Confession?” He shuddered a little as her nails raked over his belly, pausing at the waistband of his pants.

  She spun them around so his back was now against the pillar. And for once, he was more than happy to let her take over and run things.

  She pushed open his shirt, then leaned in and nipped at his chin as she slid her hands around the bare skin of his waist, once
again letting the sweet pressure of her body align itself with his. A sensation that could only be improved if she weren’t wearing so many clothes. Which he started to explain, but she spoke first.

  “My confession is that I have wanted to run my fingers through your hair since that day we were mopping up water in my bathroom.”

  He’d been rapidly sinking into a hormone-driven daze, but her revelation jerked him out of it. His eyes snapped open—he hadn’t even been aware they’d closed. “You have?”

  She nodded, looking faintly embarrassed now. “So,” she forged on, “I was thinking. Why don’t I grab a bottle of wine, and you go find a bottle of hotel shampoo and the shower in this place. Set it on steam.”

  His lips curved. “This would be the adult part of the idea?”

  “What better way to get my fingers in your hair than to lather it up?”

  He hadn’t thought he could be any harder. But he twitched at the idea of the two of them naked, under a hot spray, all sudsy and slippery. “What better way, indeed,” he said, his voice almost hoarse.

  Just then there was a knock on the suite door.

  “Oh, no, not this time,” Jack said, taking Valerie’s hands. “No more interruptus.” He pulled them both farther into the suite.

  “Delivery,” came a voice from the hall.

  Valerie slid her hands free. “Go find the shower.”

  Jack huffed. Just a little. Their track record was lousy when it came to interruptions. “If you’re not there in five minutes, I will come get you. I won’t be dressed. And I won’t care who I embarrass.”

  Her grin was wicked. “I might wait six minutes, just for the show.”

  He laughed. How was it she always said just the right thing? He debated stripping down right there, but the rap on the door repeated. She reluctantly shoved him away and turned to get the door.

  It actually took him a few minutes to find the bathroom. Their bathroom, anyway. Each bedroom had its own master bath, and the first one he’d entered had already been taken over by Brice and Eric, as was obvious by the tousled sheets. Not wanting any stray visuals to dampen his, uh, spirit, he quickly moved to his and Valerie’s bedroom and their very own, very private master bath.

  It was huge, ornate, with a sunken whirlpool tub on one side and a roomy walk-in shower with multiple nozzles on the other. The walls were covered with mirrors. “Hmm. Which would be more fun?”

  “Does it matter?”

  He turned to find Valerie holding a bucket of champagne. He grinned. “Apparently not.” He took the bucket and set it on the floor by the Jacuzzi. “Let me guess, from Eric and Brice?”

  Valerie shook her head. “The godmothers. They saw you on the show today and this is their way of saying thank you.”

  “Very nice of them.” He noticed she was looking a bit more tentative. He knew he shouldn’t have let her answer the damn door. He didn’t want to admit that his frustration went deeper than being upset at the possibility that he wasn’t going to get any after all. Because admitting that would be admitting he needed Valerie for more than just a few hours of earth-moving sex. “What’s wrong? Did the note say something else?”

  She pasted on a smile. “They’re coming up.”

  Jack froze. “Up? Here? To our room? Now?”

  Valerie laughed. “No, no. To the city. Tomorrow. For the taping. God, you should see your face.”

  He went back to working the cork, making Valerie jump and squeal just a little when it shot off and ricocheted off one of the mirrors. “Let’s just say, with our luck, I wouldn’t have been surprised.” He took the two flutes she’d wedged in the ice and poured champagne into each before handing her one.

  She smiled and took a sip, crinkling her nose a little as the bubbles assaulted her. “To making New York your own,” she toasted him, eyes dancing as she wiggled her nose a little.

  To making you my own were the words that immediately flashed through his brain. Followed by a brief flicker of panic, and a longer flicker of wonder. He clinked glasses and sipped to cover his momentary lapse. Making her your own for the night, he mentally corrected. Maybe both nights if he was lucky. Although with the arrival of the godmothers tomorrow, he had a feeling this was his best shot. But it was a shot. Not the beginning of something else. Something long-term.

  Something like a . . . a relationship.

  He was definitely going to go light on the champagne, however. Just to be safe. There was that phrase again.

  “If we’re shampooing,” she was saying, “then maybe we should start with the shower.”

  “Start?”

  She moved in closer. “Some suds, followed by a relaxing dip in the whirlpool. . . .”

  All thoughts of exactly where this was leading, beyond the shower, anyway, floated away as he slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her tight up against him. “For once, I’m perfectly happy to let you organize my immediate schedule,” he told her. “Just one question . . .” Fool! Take what she’s offering, be thankful, and shut the hell up. Of course he couldn’t. Note to self: This self-help crap is ruining your life. Ignore it. Revert to former, insensitive macho-pig status immediately.

  Sure, he’d be lonely, but probably not as horny and confused.

  “Yes?”

  Lonely? Where the hell had that come from? He wasn’t lonely. Alone, yes. Big difference. So what if he was starting to like knowing she would pop up in his life all the time. Temporary insanity. Two days alone together and they’d be climbing the walls instead of each other. Probably. Maybe. But he still had to know one thing. “Why?” He shot her a grin, going for insouciance, and likely missing by a mile. “I mean, I know we have this amazing animal attraction to each other, but—”

  “But while my body keeps saying yes, my mind keeps saying no?”

  “Pretty much. Why are they both saying yes now?”

  “I tend to get very focused, very goal-oriented.” Her lips quirked. “It’s killing you not to make a comment here, but because you want to get laid, you’re being good.”

  He just pressed his lips together and shrugged. Then grinned and nodded.

  She laughed. “Well, you did make a point the other night, when we were talking about having friendships and fun and a life outside of work. I have put things off, things that aren’t goal-related.”

  “Like great sex, you mean?”

  “Actually, yes, although I’m not a nun. But you’ve made me step back and ask myself some tough questions.” Her lips curved in a knowing smile. “Yes, you make me want to go AWOL from the convent on a regular basis. But you’re . . . complicated.”

  “Me? Nah, I’m very simple. Simple guy, simple needs.”

  She cocked her head. “You said I didn’t know you. But I’m starting to. And there’s so much of you I admire. I’m serious,” she said when he snorted. “Your friendship with Eric, for starters. The way you look at life, put things in perspective relative to their overall importance, and though it has caused me endless loss of sleep, the way you don’t take everything so damn seriously.”

  “Sounds like you summed things up pretty well. What’s so complicated about that?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “This situation we’ve been somewhat forced into, for one thing. That’s complicated.”

  “Because it gets in the way of those pesky goals.”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “And now?”

  She sighed. “Now we’ve just had a very successful day. Things are going incredibly well. It looks like we’ve pulled off the coup. And I’m trying to get over myself a little, just let things be for a change.”

  “Because your goal is finally in sight. Valerie Wagner, Glass Slipper executive publicist.”

  “Well, I’m at least allowing myself to think it might end like that.”

  “Instead of the Armageddon you’ve been so certain I would wreak.”

  “Pretty much,” she said with a laugh. “But you might also be interested to know you’re not my only tentat
ive step toward having a life. Last Thursday night at the party, I invited Jenn out to lunch. A nonbusiness lunch.”

  She said it with such obvious pride, but he knew he couldn’t tease her.

  “Although I guess, in a way, I have you to thank for that, too.”

  “Me? What did I do?” He smiled. “Although, if it will help my case here, then I’m all for taking credit.”

  She smirked, but her eyes were dancing. “It wasn’t anything specific. Mostly watching you and Eric together, realizing that I miss not having that close friendship. For the first time, I found I wanted to share the burden with someone, you know? Just having a bitch buddy would be really nice right about now. Not that I’m going to tell her anything,” she added quickly.

  It was then that his heart began to teeter. Dangerously. There was no bullshit with Valerie. He’d never met anyone so up-front and direct. Sure, she drove him crazy, but she was self-aware enough to know it, and she could laugh at herself. And she made him self-aware, so they laughed together. Which made all the difference.

  He tugged her closer, leaned in so his forehead brushed against hers. “I know it’s not the same thing, but as far as this charade we’re pulling goes, you can feel free to bitch to me—notice I said to me, not at me,” he added with a playful smile. “Anytime you want.”

  Now those eyes turned dangerously glassy, and he wondered what he’d said wrong. “Hey, I didn’t mean—”

  “I know what you meant.” She lifted up and kissed him softly on the lips. “And thank you. You really are a good guy, you know?”

  “Yeah, well, don’t let it get out, okay?” His heart went from being tugged to being yanked. He worked hard to get back on ground that wasn’t so shaky. “So, is that why I’m getting so lucky here tonight? Because I’m a good guy?”

  “Well,” she said, playing along with him, giving him a considering look. “I am in a gorgeous hotel suite, with fine champagne, a steamy shower, and a pretty-okay-looking guy who apparently wants me naked. And I was thinking . . . well, maybe I deserve a little AWOL time. Maybe we both do. After all, who better to understand what’s at stake here? It’s not like we’re going to do anything stupid to put our hard work at risk. No one has to know about this . . . but us.”