by Misty Evans
“First of all, you’re dealing with me and not my mother, so feel free to let all the fucks fly.”
Jenna's loud snort of laughter had several patrons turning around. She flushed and ducked down. “All the fucks. Right. I’m adding that to my colloquial sayings. You've been warned.”
“Noted.” He took a sip of his wine. “Why do you do that?”
She fiddled with her wine glass but didn’t take a sip. “Do what?”
He assessed her before saying carefully, “Crawl back into yourself like that. I've seen you do it before.”
“I, uh. I'm aware of people staring. I don't want to embarrass you. This place is a lot fancier than anywhere I normally go.”
She was unpredictable, but hardly embarrassing. “You’re not embarrassing me.”
“What?” She laughed. “Like you didn’t just tell me to dress appropriately to join you for dinner.”
The waitress chose that inopportune time to come and ask them how they liked the wine. She leaned a hair too close to him. Not to mention she completely ignored Jenna. He knew what she was offering with her stance, her lingering gaze and her open smile. He wasn’t biting. “We're fine. Thank you.”
Jenna watched her walk away. “Does that happen a lot?”
“What?”
“You know, women throwing themselves at you?”
He slid his gaze sideways to the retreating waitress. “Her?” He shrugged. “I barely noticed.” He barely noticed because it did happen a lot. The waitress had no idea if he was on a date or if Jenna was his wife. But she'd still put out an offer. And that was beyond cheeky.
Not that Jenna would be his wife of course.
“God, the trouble I could get up to with your mojo for a day. Oh, the havoc I could cause. The kinds of men I could get.”
His attention sharpened to the pinpoint of a laser. Men like Hawke with an E. That's what she meant.
He still couldn't believe she was chasing after a bloke like that. “Like I was saying, you don’t see yourself clearly.”
“Puh-lease. The guys I get to date, if I get a date, are schlepps. Wanna-be hipsters with their overgrown beards, craft beer guts, and 'ironic' tattoos that are no longer ironic but just plain sad. I don’t get...” She bit her bottom lip.
“Men like Hawke?”
She flushed. “I don't. You know it's not true...what they’re saying...I wouldn't...haven’t...”
“Stop worrying. I know you didn't. I was there, remember? I also know he's an imbecile.”
“He is not. He's a very important donor for me.”
As am I. Nevertheless, he put up a hand. “Sorry. I just mean you should aim higher.”
“As if.” Again with the wine glass, she tapped her fingernail on it but didn’t take a drink.
With sudden clarity, he saw an opportunity to get what he needed out of her and maybe get her what she wanted. “Jenna, what’s the matter with your wine?”
Her eyes went wide. “Oh, sorry. I don’t really like wine. I know, it's uncouth or whatever the word is, but the only kind of wine I like is two-buck Chuck and the sweet ones at that. This fancy stuff is lost on me. If I drink, which is rarely, it's usually a mixed drink. Something fruity and girly. I'm sorry. I hate to waste a perfectly good glass, I'm sure.”
“Why didn't you just tell me that?”
“I-I don't know. You brought me to this fancy place and were kind enough to steer me to the veggie options and it's all really nice. I didn’t want to be the girl who was like ‘Can a bitch get a Cosmo?’”
The laugh spilled out of his chest. Can a bitch get a Cosmo? He covered his face with one hand as he laughed and Jenna stared at him.
“Shit, you should smile more often. Makes you look less foreboding, more approachable, a hell of a lot more fun.”
Smile more—he tried to sober, but the laugh came out again. “Surprisingly, you seem to bring it out in me.”
“You sure you're not laughing at me instead of with me?”
“I'm certain.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Okay look. You want some help with the media and feeling less overwhelmed, correct?”
“Yeah.”
“And I need some things from you. A little focus and organization. How about, as a trade, I help you and you help me? I'll give you some pointers on getting the press under your thumb and you focus enough to get the Donor of the Year ceremony organized. As a bonus, I’ll even help you attract Hawke's attention.”
She narrowed her gaze skeptically. “Really. Why? You don’t like him.”
“But you do, for some unknown reason. What do you say? I get what I want and you get what you want.”
“I—” She nodded. “Okay, then. What the hell? I’d do just about anything to keep those damn paps under control.”
“Yes, well, for starters, let's get you a real drink.” He signaled the waitress who came over with another beaming smile for him.
“What can I get you?”
“I think my beautiful date would like a Cosmopolitan. I'll take a bourbon, neat.”
The waitress’s smile faltered. “Of course. Whatever you need, Mr. Swinton.”
Jenna shook her head as the woman disappeared. “She was practically falling into your lap, and you go and break her heart.” She rolled her eyes. “Back off honey, get your own gay bestie.”
Jacob coughed. Gay? “What makes you think I’m gay?”
She leaned over. “Seriously? Besides the ridiculous model-good looks, the vest, your general persnickety-ness, and you never noticing a single woman around you. Not to mention your shoes are nicer than mine.”
He scoffed. “I notice women.”
“Dude, there are freaking supermodels in this place just walking around like they are one of the normal people and you haven’t looked twice.”
What the— “I like women fine. The problem with the waitress is she's rude. She’s perfectly pleasant to me, but she pretends you’re not here and that’s irritating. You could be my companion for all she knows. The woman in the white skirt that just walked by has a breathtaking face, and tits to die for, and it’s all thanks to cosmetic surgery. I don’t like fakes. The woman three tables over has a perfect, all-natural body for sin, but she's had four glasses of wine and is slurring her words. I like my women coherent and able to carry on a serious conversation. There is a lovely, dark-skinned woman in the corner who is certainly an attention-getter with that beautiful smile, but she's clearly with someone, and I don’t poach.”
He took a sip of his wine before continuing. “And then there’s you.”
A deep flush crawled up Jenna’s neck as he assessed her.
“You’re quite pretty with that flaming red hair and your wide smile,” he said, being completely honest. “Your eyes are arresting. When you smile, you light up the room. You smell like heaven with whatever that perfume or lotion is, and you have the tendency to look sleepy like you just rolled out of bed. Which gives men all kind of ideas. Fortunately for the both of us, you're not my type at all. I prefer sophistication to street urchin. I prefer refinement and you're not it, but I’d be a fool not to notice.”
She looked too stunned to speak for a moment. But then she tried to deflect. “So what you're saying is, you think I’m hot? Tangled hair and all.”
He suppressed a laugh. “What is that saying? ‘My mama didn't raise no fool?' Yes, I take care of my appearance. It’s the first thing people notice. And I like shoes.” He shrugged.
She sat quietly, for a long moment just staring at him.
Shit. What the fuck had he just said? He was going to have to be more careful with her. If he wasn't, he'd start revealing secrets no one knew.
Her mouth dropped open. “That is the most I’ve ever heard you speak at once.” Her lips tipped into a smile “And seriously, you must have eyes in the back of your head.”
“I'm observant.”
“I'll say.” The waitress returned with their drinks and Jenna grinned at the ruby liquid in her class. “Thank yo
u.”
She did a giddy little chair dance and he couldn't help but grin.
She was easy to talk to when she wasn't being infuriating. Most female company he'd kept in the last few months had wanted something from him. Sure, Jenna wanted his help, but she didn’t want a piece of him, and that was refreshing. As an added bonus she made him laugh, which was unexpected. “So what do you say, Jenna? Do we have a deal?”
She clinked her glass to his. “We've got a deal.”
5
Jenna was in the kitchen and semi-awake, scrounging for a breakfast bar, when her doorbell rang. She set her Diet Coke on the counter and squinted at the front door.
Who the hell is at my place this early in the morning?
Except it wasn’t that early. She was running late for work and didn’t have time for visitors. Hence, her go-to breakfast of a protein bar and a Diet Coke. She could eat—and drink—on the drive in.
Running a hand through her hair, she started braiding it as she walked to the front door. It was probably one of Mrs. Holdemeyer’s gentlemen callers whose poor vision had caused him to mix up the apartment numbers. Jenna only hoped she was as ‘active’ as Mrs. H in her old age.
She still had one hand fiddling with her braid as she swung the door open. A man in a tweed car coat had his back to her. “Mrs. H is one floor up in 342. This is 242.”
The man turned around and Jenna dropped her half-finished braid. “Mrs. H?” Jacob said frowning.
“Jacob? What are you doing here? I thought we finished the contract stuff last night.”
He skimmed her ratty Juicy Couture sweatpants and t-shirt , his eyes doing a double-take at her chest. “I see my suggestions fell on deaf ears. Please tell me you are not wearing that to the office.”
The air in her lungs whooshed out. Shit, she wasn't wearing a bra, while he was perfection. His hair was wet and combed back like he’d just stepped out of the shower. He smelled like shampoo and expensive cologne. His steel-gray eyes were beautiful in the morning light, and she could see tiny flecks of dark blue in them.
“I don’t wear my pjs to the office,” she said, pointing at her sweats. “I sleep in them. One more time—what are you doing here?”
He tried to hide his smirk; he failed. His gaze now stayed locked on her face. “I took the liberty of inviting Hawke to the Swinton Children’s Wing of the hospital today for a photo opportunity. We have three children there who are also on the waiting list for 3 Wishes. I thought it would be good PR for him while making the children happy, and his publicist agreed. As per our deal, I’m offering to help you enlist the media for the good of the foundation as well as assist you in catching Hawke’s eye. You will accompany me and give a statement about all of us working together to make the children’s wishes come true.”
“I, um…”
Jacob pushed his way inside. “Don’t stutter, Jenna. We have an hour until the photo shoot to make you over. Where is the coffee?”
Stutter? Photo shoot? Coffee? Jenna stood holding the door open, her braid still half done, as she tried to take it all in. The chance to be close to Hawke made her insides melt. Or maybe that was fear. The press would be there. Jacob would be there.
Jacob, who was currently running roughshod over her in his perfect GQ suit and fresh-from-the-shower smell. God, she wanted to sink her nose into a bottle of that stuff, whatever it was. Maybe she’d buy Alex some for Christmas.
If she could afford it. Knowing Mr. Royalty, it probably costs more than her entire year’s salary. “I have a meeting with the Porath family this morning, Jake.” She smiled at the way his eyes narrowed, his annoyance over her calling him Jake so apparent. “I can’t go to the hospital.”
“I’ve cleared your calendar for the day.” He shifted his annoyed gaze away to scan her apartment and obviously found it lacking. He removed his coat and gingerly laid it on the back of her couch as he made his way to the kitchen. He began opening and closing cabinets. “Collin and Vicki Porath will be tripling their donation to 3 Wishes next year in exchange for a dedicated room at the hospital for children suffering from cystic fibrosis like their daughter. It’s all taken care of. Can we get started?”
Jenna closed the door. “I’m sorry. I’m a little confused. I asked for your help handling 3 Wishes PR, and I appreciate you offering to help me 'catch Hawke’s eye,'”—she made air quotes around his words—”but I didn’t agree to a complete makeover, or for you to take over my job.”
He found a bag of her favorite organic, free-trade Guatemalan beans. “Brilliant,” he murmured, pouring some into the grinder on the counter. Flipping it on, he glanced at her. “You don’t like relying on others, do you?”
She’d had to rely on others for years after her accident. No more. “There was a time in my life when I had to depend on everyone for everything. Now I don’t. It’s just that I’m new to this level of responsibility and it’s taking some getting used to.” Plus, Van refused to speak to me until I got you to help me.
“And that’s what I’m here for.” He filled the coffee maker with water. “Do you have anything to wear other than black?”
Mr. Royalty knew his way around a coffee maker? Mind blown.
“By the way,” he added. “I have no wish to take over your job. I’m quite busy with my own family business.”
It was kind of sexy the way he’d hustled in and taken control. The way his silk suit clashed with her shabby chic kitchen.
What am I thinking? Jenna picked up braiding her hair again, conscious of the fact Jacob’s gaze kept covertly bouncing down to her chest. “I wear a lot of black because it’s easy. Doesn’t clash with my hair, like red, orange, pink, and yellow all do.”
“No need to shy away from the red palette.” His attention zoned in on her braid, the first aroma of coffee drifting into the air.
Jenna thought, yes, this is nice. A handsome man in my kitchen making coffee.
“Corals and peaches, as well as buttery yellows, should go nicely with your hair.”
The way he was focused on her made her uneasy again. He was so perfect on the outside. Too bad his personality was a train wreck. “And you know this how?”
He flashed a patient smile. “I’ve known a few redheads.”
As in girlfriends? Hmm, interesting. “I imagine there are plenty in the UK.”
“And here in the States.” He smiled with a wink. “I discovered that when I was sixteen.”
“Is that when you moved here?” She asked.
He nodded. “Mum finally had it with Dad so she came home to the US. I guess I never shed the accent. Besides, women seem to love it. Do you at least have a black dress? Or any color dress?”
Sexy when flustered.
And he wasn’t ever flustered.
He was a demanding jerk, and he knew how to get what he wanted. Women threw themselves at him because he looked like a model from Vogue while exuding an aura of money and power. He took his deals seriously, hence why he was here trying to help her.
She liked a man who had values, even if he was a jerk.
He should be my Mr. Perfect.
But he wasn’t.
Jenna mentally inventoried her clothes. “I have one dress and it’s blue.” Blue was usually a safe color. “It’s a sundress.”
“Hmm. We’ll go shopping later. May I see your closet?”
“You may not.”
He poured two coffees and offered her one, grinning all the while. She shook her head at the coffee, plopped down in a kitchen chair, and sipped her soda.
“Do you have a shirt with a V-neck possibly?” he said. “Something to show off your cleavage?”
“I don’t have to show off my tits to get noticed by Hawke. Besides it’s the children’s wing. Can you say, 'inappropriate’?”
Jacob’s gaze once again did a down-and-back to her chest and he arched one perfectly dark brow. “The imbecile is male and you are on a deadline if you want to catch his attention before he flies out of San Diego tomorrow. N
eed I say more?”
She huffed, the old self-doubt rearing its ugly head. “This is pointless. I could run around in front of him naked and he wouldn’t pay attention to me.”
Jacob stepped in front of her and bent to look her in the eye. “I didn’t take you for a quitter.”
A ping of lust ran down her spine. Damn, he smelled so good. Why did he have to be an ass? “I’m not.”
“You’re quitting before you’ve even put any of my lessons to work. I guarantee if you follow them, Hawke will notice you, and none require you to go naked.”
His cheekbones were to die for. She wanted to reach out and run her finger along them. Instead, she gripped her pop bottle tighter and fought the hope he inspired inside her. “Fine. I’ll rummage through my clothes and find something cleavage-worthy.”
He smiled and her pulse did a cha-cha. Those perfect white teeth. The crinkles around his eyes. The way those sculpted cheekbones rose…
Stop it.
He patted her shoulder with satisfaction and returned to leaning against the counter as he sipped his coffee. “Because the press and the children will, in fact, be in attendance, nothing slutty. Only provocative.”
She’d never been provocative in her life. She’d also never been in spitting distance of Hawke Thorn outside of the previous day’s meeting. It was definitely time to amp up her game.
Rising, she set down her Diet Coke and pushed in the chair. “All right. You can see my closet on one condition.”
“And that would be?”
“You don’t make fun of my shoe collection.”
His lips rolled in and she could see the laughter in his sexy, grey eyes. The corners of those eyes crinkled again and he suddenly grew overly interested in his coffee, taking a big sip. “Is it that horrifying?”
“I’m not big on high heels because of my…you know.”
He glanced at her over the rim of his cup. “Your what? Fetish for sneakers?”
Was he kidding her right now? “It’s not nice to tease.”