by Misty Evans
He set his cup aside, looking confused. “I’m not teasing. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Right. And she was Cinderella.
But he still looked confused. Irksomely so. His dark brows crashed down over those sexy eyes and he was scanning her once more from head to toe, as if he had x-ray vision and was looking for the missing piece to her puzzle.
She made a general gesture to her leg. “My limp. I get off balance easily, so high heels are out.”
He leaned back and looked relieved. “Oh, yes, of course. I’m sorry. Excuse my seeming impudence. I never noticed a limp.”
All her life, she’d seen people go out of their way to either ridicule her disability or act like it didn’t matter. To act like it didn’t exist. “You’re teasing again.”
“I promise you I am not. What’s wrong with your leg, can I ask?”
“You don’t know?”
He shook his head.
She’d been around too many assholes and thoughtless people to be anything but guarded, but she could tell when someone was honestly in the dark about her past and its complications in her present life. “You’re on the 3 Wishes’ board and you don’t know my story?”
His frown deepened. “You were injured in a hit and run as a teenager and had several surgeries which kept you from having a normal life for several years. I know what the foundation brochures say, but I’ve never heard anything beyond that. I don’t gossip about people, in case you haven’t noticed, and besides, you seem to have recovered quite nicely. I didn’t realize your injury still bothered you.”
Why did she suddenly feel heat in her cheeks? “Well, thank you. I don’t let it keep me from doing what I want to do. Ever.”
The smile returned, and oh boy, what a smile it was. “Okay, lesson one. Let’s find you something sexy but not trashy to wear today. We have a PR event to get to.”
* * *
Twenty minutes later, Jenna stood in front of her bedroom mirror admiring herself as Jacob looked over her shoulder. He’d found a black pencil skirt and white blouse Jenna had forgotten she owned. She’d bought the set for a 3 Wishes event several years before and promptly buried both items in her closet afterward.
Jacob had insisted she leave the first three buttons of the silky blouse undone, and he’d hung a dainty gold necklace with a tiny diamond pendant around her neck. Another relic she’d forgotten she owned.
The diamond lay in the middle of a modest amount of cleavage, her boobs nestled in an underwire bra for the first time in years. “We must tease the eye to journey down,” he’d said, positioning the pendant just so and making heat flood her cheeks again.
It wasn’t sexual, she reminded herself. His touch. He looked at her like a prize mare, not a love interest, and thank God for that.
On her feet, they compromised. She wore a pretty pair of peep-toe black wedges with a wide ribbon ankle strap. They steadied her, kept her from twisting her ankle, and made her legs look incredibly long and sexy.
Jacob’s gaze in the mirror matched hers. Admiring. Proud.
Except his was way more intense, making her swallow hard. In the wedges, she was still a few inches shorter than him, and while she liked teasing him about being gay, nothing about the look on his face supported that argument at the moment.
The flush in her cheeks spread down her neck as he pulled a strand of unruly hair away from her face, his fingers grazing the side of her throat. “How about we do a high ponytail?” he said, loosening the messy braid. “Professional, but subtly erotic.”
His voice sounded strained. Low, husky. His fingers teased out her hair and it tickled her overly sensitive neck.
When she answered, her voice sounded weird, too. “A ponytail is erotic?”
He met her eyes in the mirror. “Imbecile males like to tug on them during sex.”
“Ah, right.” Now she was in full-on blush mode. Heat spread into her stomach. Talking sex with Jacob was Twilight Zone material. “What about makeup?”
His gaze fell to her lips in the mirror. “Neutral eye shadow, a bit of dark liner, and some bright lipstick.”
“Lipstick, yeah. I don’t own much.”
He was still staring at her lips. “I assume you have something other than Goth black.”
“The lip balm I wore yesterday? Will that work? I have the same issues with lip color as clothing. A lot of colors clash with my hair.”
“Your hair is an asset, Red.” He combed through it with his fingers and Jenna suddenly felt unsteady in her shoes. “It simply needs better care, regular conditioning and a good cut. Men love redheads.”
Do you? she wanted to ask, but caught herself. What did she care if he liked redheads? Jacob wasn’t her dream man. Hawke was. “I’ll grab that lip balm.”
She hustled to the bathroom and fanned herself. It was entirely too hot in her apartment.
When she reemerged, she’d done her makeup and had her lip balm in hand. Jacob had returned to the kitchen and was turning off the coffee maker.
“Ready,” she said.
He handed her a leather jacket from her coat closet. “Let’s go.”
The worn leather coat was her favorite, but hardly went with her current attire. “I have a trench coat.”
“A little edginess will be better,” he responded, the intense look gone and his normal cool countenance back in place. “Sexier. It says ‘I’m naughty.’”
Ah, right. She accepted the coat and let him help her put it on, all the time feeling like a fake. She wasn’t naughty. Not that she didn’t want to be, but naughty was only fun if you had someone to do it with.
The drive to the hospital seemed longer than usual even though traffic was light at that time of the morning. Rush hour was long over. Jacob did business on his phone, his sexy business voice giving her goose bumps.
The parking lot held news vans, and inside the children’s wing, a group of press reporters and paparazzi had gathered. A spokesperson for the hospital had corralled them and turned them over to Jacob when he and Jenna entered. She was pretty sure he called them rude asses under his breath while smiling and guiding them down the hall to a conference room.
“Will Hawke Thorn be here soon?” one of the reporters asked.
“I’m sure he’ll be late as always,” Jacob responded with a charming smile, “but while we wait, I’d like to show you how the Swinton Endowment, in conjunction with 3 Wishes and the San Diego Children’s Hospital, is leading pediatric programs in the nation in providing treatment and care for babies, children, adolescents and teens with disorders of the spine, muscles, and central nervous system. With me today is Jenna McIntyre, president of the 3 Wishes Foundation.”
In the limo on the way over, he’d insisted she take a leadership role for this campaign. They’d recited her brief speech and practiced some impromptu questions and answers. She was ready. She was pumped.
“Welcome,” she said, as Jacob faded into the background. She felt confident in her professional outfit. “Thank you for coming. I have a brief statement and then Mr. Swinton and I will take questions.”
The next five minutes went as planned. A couple of paparazzi tried interrupting her, but Jacob shut them down each time. Corralling them in the conference room had worked miracles.
Jenna was wrapping up her speech when the door banged open and Hawke’s publicist and manager stood there.
“Is Hawke here?” someone called out, and the publicist, dressed in a red number that made her stand out like a beacon, smiled with matching red lips.
Her eyes did a catty perusal of Jenna and her smile turned snarky. “What are you all doing in here?” she asked. “Hawke’s with the kids.”
A mad rush to the door ensued, but Jacob stepped in front of the group and blocked the door, forcing the publicist to step back and shutting down the group trying to leave.
“In the hospital, there are rules,” he said, glaring at each of the reporters. “I will take three of you at a time to the child’
s room where Mr. Thorn is visiting, and if you behave, you will be allowed to ask one question and take one photo. That’s it. If you can’t follow my rules, you’ll be escorted out. Those of you waiting your turn will stay here with Mr. Thorn’s publicist, who will be happy to answer questions, I’m sure.”
At Jacob’s insistence, Jenna lead the way into the first child’s room. Posters and drawings decorated the door, announcing it was Maya’s room, and she apparently liked pirates.
Hawke was indeed already there, signing an autograph, when Jenna opened the door. The little girl’s face was lit up and her parents were gushing over the pop star as he joked and signed a headshot of himself.
He glanced up and did a double-take when his attention landed on her. Patting the little girl’s arm, he rose and came over, extending a hand. “Well, hello, chica. I don’t believe we’ve met.”
Jenna’s heart banged against her chest as she accepted his handshake. The paparazzi snapped pictures. It’s working!
He was cleaned up and didn’t smell. His other hand closed over the top of hers.
“Actually, we met yesterday at 3 Wishes,” she said, her cheeks hot as fire. “I’m Jenna McIntyre. President of the foundation?”
“Oh! You’re Jenna.” His dark eyes danced. “Yesterday’s a bit of a blur, but I sure don’t remember…”—he gave her a once over—“this.”
“Yes, well,” Jacob said, removing Jenna’s hand from Hawke’s grip. “Shall we get back to Maya?”
For the next two hours, Jenna led Hawke around the Swinton wing, visiting children and trying not to trip over herself. Her heart went out to every child they encountered and she silently vowed to do more for the families involved. Forget going international, there was still plenty to be done right here. 3 Wishes had to raise more funds and help more families.
“Give your number to my publicist,” Hawke said, on his way out, giving Jenna a wink. “We should probably talk about the donor thing.”
Jenna stood and watched him leave. He waved to the nurses, seeming completely unfazed by the group of paparazzi and reporters following on his heels. He’d visited over a dozen kids and left behind t-shirts, cups, and other items with his name and latest album art on them.
Jacob cleared his throat, and only then did she realize he was standing next to her. “That went well.”
Well? It had gone great. “It’s working.”
“Of course it’s working. I told you it would. Meantime, we should plan a trip to Vegas to inspect the new venue for the donor awards.”
Jenna didn’t want to think about work. Just Hawke. “He noticed me. He told me to give my number to his publicist.”
“Tacky. If he wants your number, he should be man enough to ask for it directly.”
Jenna didn’t argue, but by the time she climbed into the back of Jacob’s limo to go shopping for a new wardrobe, she had plans. Plans that involved making sure Hawke had her private number.
She needn’t have worried. Before they pulled out of the parking lot, her phone buzzed. “Oh, my God,” she whispered.
“What?” Jacob leaned over, trying to see what was on her screen.
She grinned and shoved him away. “Hawke texted me.”
“Already? What does he want?”
Hawke had gotten her number without her even giving it to him. He was definitely interested, right? Especially if the photo on her phone was any indication. “Well, I’m not sure.”
Jacob reached out and snatched the phone from her. His face fell. He made a disgusted sound in his throat. “My God is right.”
It was an upper body shot, showing off Hawke’s tattoos. Jacob flipped the phone with the selfie of Hawke back at her. “Knuckle-dragger. Do not respond.”
“Why not?”
“Do. Not. Engage. You have him interested, now you have to keep him that way. Ignoring him is a surefire way to make sure he keeps chasing you. Shut off the phone. We have more work to do.”
Smiling to herself, Jenna tucked the phone into her leather jacket. Hawke Thorn had sent her a picture of his naked chest. She could only imagine what might be next.
6
Jenna’s doorbell rang, interrupting the drone of the television. She lowered her reading glasses to the end of her nose and glanced at the clock. Midnight.
Who the hell was at her door at midnight? Another of Mrs. H’s gentlemen callers?
Jenna tossed her tablet down and threw back the covers. In the front room, she flipped on the outside light and eased the curtains aside.
Oh my God.
It was Hawke.
With him, on either side, was Maya and another child, a boy named Dixon, from the hospital. They had been part of the group Jenna, Jacob, and Hawke had visited earlier that day. Both children were wearing pajamas and smiling broadly.
Opening the door, Jenna looked from Hawke’s face to each of the kids'. Warm night air rushed in around her. “What is going on?”
“It’s a pj party!” Maya said. She slipped her hand into Hawke’s. “We came to get you so you could go with us.”
“Grab some shoes,” Hawke said. He was grinning as broadly as Maya and the boy. His shirt was buttoned properly. His hair was pulled back and his eyes weren’t bloodshot. “We’re going to go have some fun.”
“But how…?” Jenna stammered. “The kids shouldn’t be away from the hospital.”
Hawke pulled out a folded paper from his jean pocket. “Doctors released them both for a few hours.” He hiked a thumb over his shoulder. “Their parents are in the bus.”
Jenna looked past the trio on her doorstep to see a giant tour bus with Hawke’s visage and his latest album’s cover on it running in the parking lot.
“Come on, Jenna!” Maya said. She reached forward and tugged on Jenna’s hand. “You have to come. There’s a Ferris wheel and everything.”
Hawke’s eyes narrowed at her hair. “Were you sleeping?”
Jenna raked a hand through her unbraided locks. She’d been reading a book on organization and management that Jacob had recommended. “No, I was reading in bed. How did you find my place?”
He grinned again. “I have a pap who can find anyone. Used to be a private investigator.”
“Well, that’s not too creepy. You’re friends with the paparazzi?”
A look of confusion passed his face. “Why wouldn’t I be? They keep me splashed all over the gossip rags.”
Dixon crossed his arms over his chest, giving her a cross look. “Can we go now?”
“Come on,” Hawke urged. “You don’t have enough fun, Jenna.”
A few minutes later, she was on Hawke’s tour bus in her pjs and fake leather moccasins, singing along with Maya and Dixon and six other kids from the Swinton wing of the hospital to one of Hawke’s songs. Even the parents were singing along. Jacob would have stroked out if he saw her in such a disheveled mess. At least she’d had time to put on a bra.
Standing in the aisle, Hawke closed out the song with a karaoke mic and everyone clapped. He took a bow and came to sit next to Jenna as a new song started and the kids danced in their seats.
“I have this friend,” Hawke said. “Camden, from Triple Threat. Remember him?”
Camden Rivers. She remembered. He’d went into show business after TT died and had started a whole new career as a gladiator on a cable show historical drama. “Sure. I remember him.”
Hawke didn’t smell like alcohol. His jeans had rips in them, but his clothes were clean and pressed. His publicist and manager were nowhere to be seen. “He lives outside the city limits. His daughter wanted her own amusement park for her tenth birthday, so he built it for her. Let’s me use it when I want to. He saw the press today from the hospital. Called me up and offered to let us bring some of the kids over for a party.”
Jenna’s heart warmed. “That’s very generous of him, and nice of you to make it happen.”
“I’ve been lucky, you know. Never had anything really bad happen to me. Never had kids to worry about. I
love my fans.” He swept an arm out, motioning at the kids in front of them wiggling in their seats. “Gotta do some good, ya know?”
“This is awesome,” Jenna agreed. She couldn’t stop smiling from ear to ear. “They’ll never forget this night. But I have to ask, why aren’t you in pajamas?”
“I don’t own any.”
“Then what do you sleep in?”
“My birthday suit.” He winked. “Did you like the photos I sent you of my ink?”
They’d only sparked a fantasy or two. “Um, yes.”
“I’m into body art, you know. Those were from a photo shoot I did last week on a motorcycle. I love to sing, but sometimes I like to express myself in other ways.”
Be my guest.
When the tour bus pulled up to the “park” a little while later, Jenna’s cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing so much, but when she saw what waited for them, her smile faded.
Paparazzi stood at the gates. Hawke’s publicist was there too.
“Go ahead and take the kids in,” Hawke told her, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll take care of the paps.”
Jenna helped the kids off the bus as Hawke gathered the press around him off to the side. His publicist gave Jenna a once over and disparaging smile. Jenna almost flipped her off.
Camden waited inside the gates with an entire staff of people to get the kids popcorn, show them the rides, and let them play some carnival games. He was sweet and funny and shorter than she’d expected, but well-muscled from his gladiator role.
Kids and parents scattered in all directions while Jenna hung back and watched, enjoying the kids’ laughter and seeing the smiles on the parents’ faces. The Ferris wheel kicked on and so did a miniature merry-go-round, filling the air with music.
Hawke came up behind her and took her hand. “Come on. Let’s ride the roller coaster. It’s not as big as I like, but it’s still a pretty good rush. When I’m up there,”—he pointed across the way where the top of the roller coaster peeked above another ride—“I’m free from everyone and everything.”
Jenna looked over his shoulder. The publicist and paparazzi were nowhere to be seen. Good.