“I guess,” Eric said, not sounding remotely convinced. “You going back to the hotel to talk to Valerie?”
Jack nodded. “If nothing else, I want to make sure the godmothers don’t bring this down on her head. I think we did a good job of keeping the magazine out of this.”
Eric slumped back in his seat. “I can’t believe what I just did.”
Jack smiled a little. “It was for the best.”
“I should have done this in the first place before I dragged you, Val, and Glass Slipper into things.”
“What’s done is done. And hey, look what you got out of the deal.” For that matter, look what he’d gotten. He was still coming to terms with the fact that he’d basically told Valerie he loved her on live television.
Eric smiled dryly. “Now all we have to do is not screw that up, too.”
“Yeah.” Now that they were out from the glaring light of the public eye, the real tension was starting to creep in. And Jack hadn’t thought the ball in his gut could squeeze any tighter.
He wished he had a clue what to do next, what to say to her. He supposed he could look for a job in D.C. It might not be the kind of sports coverage he wanted to do, but it would keep him close to Valerie, at least until they figured out if things were going to work between them. Of course, Valerie might not have a job at this point. Which pissed him off. But it also left him pondering the alternatives. “What do you think my chances are of convincing Valerie to head off to Europe with me?”
Eric grinned. “Really?”
“I don’t know. I just know I don’t want to walk away.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. She’s pretty career-oriented.”
“Yeah, well, she might not have a career at the moment.”
Eric’s expression fell.
“Hey, now, she knew the risks. We all did.”
“What do you think the fallout is going to be? I’ve already called my lawyer, and he’s pretty sure we can beat a fraud rap.”
Jack’s eyebrows rose. “Pretty sure?” He’d been so caught up in thinking about Valerie, he hadn’t stopped to think about the legal repercussions of their little performance today. “Do you think the godmothers will sue?”
“I guess we’re going to find out.” Eric motioned to the curb in front of their hotel. “We’re here. Brice should be here shortly. I can deal with it if you’d rather not—”
“No, I’m in.”
Eric started to say something, then suddenly pointed at the taxi in front of them. “Hey, isn’t that Valerie?”
Jack looked out the limo window just in time to spy Valerie climbing into the yellow cab. It pulled away from the curb before he could get out.
Eric flung his door open. “I’ll go up and deal with the godmothers, you go after her.”
“But—”
Eric slammed the door shut and slapped the roof of the limo.
Jack couldn’t believe he was going to say this, but what the hell else could he do? He leaned forward to the partition separating him from the driver and said, “Follow that cab.”
For ten agonizing blocks, they wove in and out of traffic. Where was she heading? Was she leaving town? Leaving him? Without talking to him? Maybe he’d totally freaked her out with his on-air confession.
Stupid, stupid! And here he’d been feeling all smug about what he’d learned about women and relationships. Only to lose the only woman he’d ever truly loved enough to fight to keep. He realized as he watched her cab buzz from one light to the next that he didn’t know quite how he’d handle it if she walked out of his life forever. It felt . . . wrong. Simply and completely wrong.
Well, it didn’t matter. This time he wasn’t going to run and hide because things had gotten a little rough.
Traffic knotted up completely when they hit Forty-fifth Street. Jack couldn’t take it any longer. “I’ll be right back.” And he bailed out of the limo and hoofed it three cabs up. “Valerie!” He banged on the window.
Only, the woman who jumped and glared at him from the backseat wasn’t Valerie. He waved an apology and immediately jogged back to the cab behind it. Empty. How had he lost track? He went in the other direction, but past the cab he’d first approached was a truck and two cars. He turned around, looking up and down Fifth Avenue, at the sea of cars and cabs, clueless about how he’d lost her. Or worse, how he’d find her again. Traffic started to move and he had no choice but to jog back to his limo.
“Jack?”
Even with all the street noise, the car engines gunning, the honking, he had no problem recognizing that voice. He spun around to find Valerie weaving her way back through traffic, oblivious to the blaring horns and streams of curses directed her way as traffic shifted to move around her.
Skirting two cabs and a truck, he met her in the center lane. They stopped just short of each other, as if suddenly wary about what to do next.
“I thought I’d lost you,” he said, as horns kept blowing, people kept cursing. He didn’t care. What mattered right now was standing in front of her. He didn’t care if he clogged traffic all the way to New Jersey.
She looked past him as his limo angled its way to the curb. “You were following me? But I was coming to find you.”
There was a sudden weightlessness to his heart. “You were?” He wanted to ask what she’d thought of the show, but that was tantamount to asking her if she loved him back. All his insecurities reared up inside him again. Suddenly he wasn’t that brave.
“The godmothers thought you and Eric might need some help extricating yourselves from the mob at the studio,” she said, looking as uncertain as he felt.
Funny how quickly weightlessness could turn into a gravity-sucking vortex. “Oh.” It was the best he could do. “You still have your job, then. Great.” And it was, only he knew he didn’t sound enthusiastic about it.
“I don’t know what I have,” she told him. The racket from the horns and the screaming drivers was making it hard to hear her.
“Maybe we should get in the limo. Talk.”
She nodded, and he led the way to the limo, helping her in, then closing the door behind him. “The Plaza,” he told the driver.
The sudden silence that followed, devoid of all the clattering chaos, seemed to overwhelm them both for a moment. Jack had to curl his fingers into his palm to keep from reaching for her. They both ended up speaking at the same time.
“What did the godmothers think of the show?” Jack asked.
“Did Eric talk to Brice?” Valerie wanted to know.
“He did,” Jack answered first. “Brice didn’t go on. I talked briefly to Shelby.” Valerie’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, but she said nothing, so he went on. “She was a little pissed off that I’d pulled the rug on her big American debut. Seems her manager saw the call from Sullivan as a means of launching his client into the hearths and homes of America.”
Valerie gaped. “On the Brock Sullivan Live show? Some manager. Next thing you know, he’ll tell her posing for Playboy will be the break she needs to be taken seriously as an actress or something.”
Jack laughed, even as his heart was about to pound its way out of his chest.
She smiled briefly, but he noticed she was twisting her hands in her lap. He wasn’t sure if the sign of nerves was a good thing or a bad thing.
“The godmothers were impressed,” she said finally. “Moved, even. Of course, I’m not sure they realize that not all of America might respond like your adoring fans outside the studio did. We’ll know soon enough.”
He watched her look worriedly out of the limo. “But they sent you to help me and Eric, so that means you’re still in the game, right?”
She looked back at him. “I told them everything. I know you tried to protect me, my job, and I appreciate that. But it was wrong, what I did. And I couldn’t let you take the fall entirely. Nor could I go on and keep my part in it a secret. It’s been eating me up.”
Jack could identify with that at the moment. “So . . .
what is the plan? With them, I mean. With your job?”
She held his gaze, twisted her fingers, swallowed hard, and finally said, “I’m not sure. Mercedes seemed willing to have me stay, do my job, see what comes of this mess. But Vivian and Aurora . . .” She shrugged a little. “I don’t know. There seemed to be something else going on.” She shook her head. “I really don’t know what it is. It might have something to do with that meeting they’d wanted with me this week, which of course got shoved aside with all that’s been happening.” She glanced at her hands, out the window. Everywhere but at him.
He felt like he was dying by inches. She’d obviously seen the show, but hadn’t made any mention of it, or even hinted at what his declaration meant to her. He wanted to drag her into his arms, remind her how powerful things could be between them. But he couldn’t seem to make the first move. It was like he was frozen to his seat, stuck in some kind of stupid limbo, unable to act, or speak.
Finally she looked at him. “What . . . what are you going to do now?”
That pretty much depends on you was what he wanted to say. But she had enough riding on her shoulders at the moment. It didn’t seem fair to put all of his expectations on her, too. She was on the brink of getting what she always wanted. If he truly cared about her, he wouldn’t force her to deal with him and his untimely emotions right now.
“I’m not sure,” he told her. It was the truth.
“You said you were looking at a job overseas.” More finger-twisting.
“I can find a job anywhere. It’s just a job.”
She looked at him sharply, as if wondering if there was a hidden jab or message there.
“What I meant,” he said, “was that, fortunately, I can find a job I enjoy. Overseas, or here. It’s important to love what you do.”
“Yeah,” she said, ducking her chin. “It is.”
He itched to reach over, lift that chin, look into her eyes, and ask her if she ever thought she could love him back. Tell her he’d work doing anything, washing dishes, whatever, if it meant they might have a chance together somewhere down the line. It was terrifying how close he was to begging. The urge to flee, to just get out and start walking, was strong.
But he wouldn’t be able to outrun these feelings. And he didn’t want to run from them. He wanted to explore them, wallow in them. Because, terror notwithstanding, this was the best feeling he’d ever had in his life. One worth fighting for. He just wished he knew how in the hell to go about it and be fair to her at the same time.
“What—” He had to break off, clear his throat, which had suddenly closed up. “What would you say if I took a job here? I mean, not here in New York, but something around D.C.” He realized he was looking down at his own fisted hands, and forced himself to look at her.
Her chin was trembling. “I’d say that after all you’ve already done, you shouldn’t have to do anything else you don’t want to do.”
“But I want to. I—”
She stopped him. Her eyes were getting glassy, and he felt his heart begin to sink lower, if that were possible.
“What I mean is, you’re right. I’ve come to realize that while you should love your job, it’s not as important as other kinds of love.”
His heart stopped sinking. In fact, it stopped altogether.
“Love shouldn’t mean sacrifice,” she went on, choosing her words carefully. “But maybe . . . maybe it does include compromise.”
“Staying here wouldn’t be a sacrifice,” he said hoarsely.
Her wobbly chin lifted, her gaze stayed steady on his, despite the quaver in her voice. She took a deep breath, and said, “Neither would me finding a job overseas.” She smiled. It was a bit crooked, but he’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life. “I’m qualified to do a lot of things. Not that that’s always a requirement for me.”
The enormity of what she’d just offered was not lost on him. “I don’t think I could ever ask you to do that. Your work means more to you—”
She smiled more fully now, more in control. She always did prefer to be in control. If he could have calmed down enough, he’d have grinned at that.
“It’s exactly because I knew you wouldn’t ask me that makes me want to,” she told him. “I’ve never had anyone care about me like that.” She reached for his hand then, and he tried not to crush hers when he took hold of it. He was pretty sure he was never going to be able to willingly let it go now. “And,” she went on, smiling even as tears formed, “I’ve never cared about anyone so much that what I do isn’t as important as who I’m with while I’m doing it.” She sniffled a little. “Vivian told me that a job is just a job. But that—” She broke off, her voice suddenly gone hoarse.
Jack couldn’t stand it any longer. He tugged on the hand he held, pulling her from her seat across to his. But not content to have her sitting beside him, he pulled her onto his lap. He closed his eyes and sent up a silent prayer as his arms came around her, vowing right then and there to do whatever he had to, to keep her there.
Her eyes were bright and shiny, and he kissed the trickle of tears that leaked from their corners. “But that what?” he asked softly.
“But that love doesn’t come around too often. If ever.”
“I know,” he said, and never before had he invested two words with such meaning.
She lifted her hand to his face, and he had to work not to sigh at her touch. “Jack . . . “
“We’ll figure it out,” he told her. “Okay? Trust me. We’ll find something that works for both of us. I know we can.”
“I do trust you.” Even with the tears, that wide, wry grin spread across her face. A face, and a grin, he hoped to see for years to come. “I trust you with something a hell of a lot more important than my career.”
He gave her the smile right back. “There’s something more important than your job?”
“Yeah, smart-ass.” Suddenly she sniffled again. “My heart.”
There was a sudden stinging in his own eyes. “Yeah?” he said, his voice barely more than a croak as his throat tightened.
She nodded. “Yeah. And I’ve never trusted anyone with it before, so you’d better take good care of it.”
He pulled her head down to his. “I’ll guard it with my life.” And he finally, blessedly, kissed her. Held her tightly as he poured all the love, fear, and joy he was feeling into it. “I love you, Valerie. I should have told you in person. The first time should have been private.”
“Well, maybe I can make up for that. A little, anyway. I love you, Jack Lambert.” She grinned. “Boy, that felt even better than I thought it would.”
“Not as scary when you go second,” he said with a laugh.
“Oh, it’s petrifying. Trust me.”
He pulled her close. “I do trust you.” It came out more seriously than he’d intended.
Her expression sobered in turn. She cupped his face, traced her fingertips over every dip and contour. “I know you didn’t plan on this. Ever. And I won’t ever take this—or you—for granted. I know how special it is.” She kissed him. “And I know how special you are.”
He would have laughed at that, except the stinging sensation was back behind his eyes, and he was very much afraid if he said anything, he’d be the one crying.
As it turned out, they were both saved from further declarations when the limo pulled up to the Plaza, and the godmothers were all waiting at the curb.
“There they are!” Aurora trilled, waving a silk scarf to get their attention. As if they could possibly go unnoticed.
“Our greeting committee,” Jack said as he helped Valerie slide from his lap while she smoothed her hair. Somewhere along the journey it had fallen from its neat little bun. “Don’t,” he told her as she tried to pin it back up. “It looks good down. All soft and touchable and— What?”
“You’re such a guy.”
He grinned. “I’m glad you noticed.”
“Oh, I noticed. What do you think our chances are of ditchin
g the trio out there and finding another room in the city? Any city?”
“Don’t tempt me.”
The car pulled to a stop and the godmothers descended on them. “Oh, and here I was planning to do just that.” Now she grinned. “Often.” She didn’t wait for the driver to get the door, but opened it herself.
Jack figured he could get used to loving a woman who liked to do things for herself. In fact, he looked forward to the challenge of showing her that it could be fun to relinquish control every once in a while, let someone else take care of her for a change.
God, was love strange or what?
Life
Just when you think you have it all figured out, life presents you with a new plan. It keeps things exciting and challenging. Especially if you’re flexible enough to trust in new things. And share that with someone you love.
Epilogue
“Gondola races.”
“Yep.”
Valerie looked out the hotel window, down to the canals of Venice below. “Well, if anyone can introduce the world to the wonders of gondola racing, it’s you.”
Jack wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed her on the back of the neck. “I’m so glad you could come with me this time.”
“Me, too. Things are running pretty smoothly— Hey, don’t laugh, they are. Compared to ten months ago, anyway.”
“Anything would be smooth compared to the chaos that was the grand opening of Glass Slipper, Incorporated, the U.K. version.”
She turned in his arms, smiling, still a little giddy every time she thought about it. “I’m still in shock whenever I remember Vivian making me the offer that afternoon in New York. Me, managing a life-makeover business.” That had to have been the single best day of her life. And to think it should have been the single worst. Jack told the world he loved her, and the godmothers had offered her a chance to live out a real dream.
“Vivian’s a smart cookie,” Jack said. “She knew from the beginning it was the perfect job for Miss Jill-of-All-Glamour-Trades. And you’re proving them right.”
Dear Prince Charming Page 32