Love the One You're With
Page 26

“I’ll make it up to you.”
“Trust me, there’s not enough chocolate in the world.”
He began moving toward the bedroom. “I was thinking more quid pro quo.”
“Speaking a dead language isn’t going to get you laid. Also, I don’t think it means what you think it means.”
Jake dumped her unceremoniously in the bed. “Then allow me to be more plain. You get to write about my noises. Fair enough?”
She sat up, already scooting toward the end of the bed. “Where’s your laptop? I already know exactly what—”
He grabbed her ankle. “Hold up there, Lois Lane. You’ll need to do your research.”
She shot him a withering look over her shoulder. “I’ve already done my research on that.”
With a pounce he was on top of her, rolling her onto her back as his hands made quick work of the too-loose pajama pants.
“There can never be too much research, Brighton. Not when it comes to na**d time. Now, in order to get my noise just right, you’re going to have to really thrill me—”
Grace mentally thanked Riley for the constant arsenal of sex tricks in every Stiletto article, because she had Jake on his back in seconds, grinning victoriously as she straddled him, fingers already on the drawstring of his pants, sliding them down.
He grabbed her hand as she was about to reach for him. “Still think I’m overcompensating for something when I order pepperoni on my pizza?”
She rolled her eyes. “Seriously? That again?”
He continued to stare up at her, waiting expectantly.
“Fine,” she relented, easing her hand out of his grasp and sliding her fingers around the long hard length of him. “Nobody has cause to be disappointed by this, no matter what type of pizza you order.”
Her hand moved over him, slower this time, and his eyes closed.
Grace smiled in victory. “Now what were you saying, Mr. Malone? Something about wanting me to thrill you?”
Her hand dipped lower as she flicked kisses over his chest.
Jake’s fingers found her hair as he groaned. “Never mind. You’ve got this.”
Grace smiled. Yes, she certainly did.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“You’re sure about this?” Jake asked, staring skeptically down at the card the Oxford receptionist held out to him.
Melissa Sorenson gave him one of those oh please looks that women must have developed in the womb along with their ovaries.
“Trust me. Everyone knows that Grace likes chocolate. You’ll be a god.”
“Yeah, but a chocolate fountain? And what do you mean, everyone knows that Grace likes chocolate?”
“You mentioned it on the site several weeks ago. On your third or fourth date at Starbucks when she ordered a mocha and you offended her by saying white chocolate and chocolate were the same thing.”
He stared at her in horror. “Good Lord, how do you remember that?”
Melissa scowled at him. “You don’t? These are crucial details, Jake. I know I work for Oxford and everything, but ultimately I’m a female first, and your forgetfulness is soooo going on the blog.”
Jake was saved when she had to take an incoming phone call, although he did pocket the card for the chocolate fountain restaurant Melissa was insisting he try. It wasn’t really his thing, but it couldn’t hurt as a way of smoothing things over with Grace, who he was pretty sure was plotting her revenge from when he let her think that he’d documented her sex-noises on the Internet.
Right. Even if he didn’t have some journalistic morals, there’s no way he was letting the rest of the world in on those little moans she made. They were his. She was his.
That much he was sure of.
He just had a few things to figure out. Like what the hell they were going to do after that big baseball game finale that was right around the corner.
Neither one of them had breathed a word about what happened after that. Sure, they’d made progress last week after she’d told him about her ex-boyfriend’s proposal.
But had they agreed on anything other than exclusivity? For all he knew, she was still planning on starting her dumb plan for six months without men after their joint work assignment was done.
And then there was the not-so-minor detail that he could be in Cairo or Juneau or Madagascar at any point in the next year. She’d probably want to know that.
Maybe he could tell her after she’d gorged herself on the chocolate fountain.
But Jake was pretty sure no amount of chocolate, fountain or otherwise, would have Grace Brighton getting excited about the prospect of traveling with him. She had a life here, and he knew her well enough to know that she wasn’t exactly the jet-setting type.
She’d all but told him outright last night while looking at his travel photos.
Jake tried to push the thought aside as he headed back to his office. One day at a time. That’s all they’d committed to. Exclusivity, and one day at a time. There were no wedding bells. No babies. No exchanging of apartment keys.
He patiently waited for the wave of relief that usually came along with the reminder that his official status was still not committed.
None came.
Instead he felt empty.
“Hey, Malone, you got a sec?”
“Sure,” Jake said, detouring into his boss’s office. “What’s up?”
Cassidy gestured for him to have a seat. “Got some news.”
“I’m listening.”
Cassidy tossed a brochure onto the desk, and Jake whistled a little as he picked it up. “Nice. What did they print this on, money?”
Unlike the typical flimsy paper of a travel brochure, this one had substance. Jake couldn’t say he’d ever had a particular hankering to go to Costa Rica, but the breathtakingly lush landscape on this brochure definitely put the country on his mental travel map.
“It’s a thousand-dollar-a-night resort,” Cassidy said. “If everything goes according to plan, I’m pretty sure they can afford to print their brochure on gold if they want.”
Jake was already flipping through page after page of stunning beach scenes, a no-expenses-spared spa, eight restaurants, and a treehouse bar built over a jungle. Literally.
“Jesus, this is the picture of one of the bathrooms? It’s bigger than the entire floor of my apartment building.”
“Well, we’ll see about getting you one of those GPS bracelets before you go, to ensure you don’t get lost,” Cassidy replied.
Jake’s head shot up. “Before I go?”
“They don’t officially open until next month, but one of my college friends is on their publicity team. She heard about Oxford’s new travel section, and … we’re in.”
“Into what?”
“Their soft opening, the pre-party, whatever you want to call it. It’s when they have all the bigwigs come in and stamp their approval. Reviewers, celebrities, politicians, and you.”
Cassidy proceeded to rattle off half of Hollywood’s A-list, but Jake’s mind was struggling to keep up. Costa Rica. That was … really f**king far away.
“What’s the catch?” Jake asked, trying to buy time as he closed the brochure.
“No catch. Well, you’ll need to write the article, of course. Plenty of detail on the texture of the pillows, the water pressure, shit like that.”
“They’re buying a positive review,” Jake said, scowl in place.
“Not at all. I told Dena that our review would be honest and completely unbiased. She agreed. Any publicity is good publicity and all that. Although if that brochure is even remotely close to reality, I can’t see where you’ll find room to complain.”
Jake glanced down again. He took in the waterfall and the infinity pool and the wildlife. It wouldn’t exactly be the most adventurous of vacations, but it was free.
And still, he wasn’t nearly as excited as he should be.
“I sort of thought you’d be kissing my ass right about now,” Cassidy said, giving him a curious look.
Jake glanced up, pasting a grin on his face.
This is what you asked for. This is what you want. Thank the man and go buy yourself a new pair of swim trunks.
“Guess I better double-check my passport,” Jake said with enthusiasm he didn’t feel. “How soon until I leave?”
“Soon. Part of the deal was that you’d be there for their big champagne kick-off. They want to make sure you capture all of the big names in attendance, stuff like that.”
Jake sat up straighter. “How soon?”
Cassidy spread his hands in a preemptive don’t-shoot-the-messenger gesture. “They’d like you there by this Friday. The big launch is on Saturday, and then they want you there at least through the following Thursday to make sure you see all the hoopla. We’ve also been getting a lot of invitations from wineries in Argentina—they’re trying to get in on the wine-tasting tourism with their Malbecs. I thought you could head there after.”
Jake mentally added it up. At least six nights in Costa Rica. Another day to travel to Argentina. Then there’d likely be multiple stops at different wineries. Probably at least four days there …
And then what?
Chile?
Panama?
Jet over to the Bahamas to see what was new there?
Hell, it could be weeks before he’d be able to see Grace—
At the thought of Grace, a realization hit him over the head.
“You want me to leave this Friday? But the baseball game is on Sunday.”
Cassidy nodded. “Trust me, I know. Camille is pissed. She took this one all the way up the food chain, but ultimately I won.”
“You’re canceling the game?”
“It’s still on—you just won’t be there. And why do you sound so bent out of shape about it? You’ve done nothing but complain about the game ever since you heard about it.”
Jake lifted a shoulder. “I thought it was a big deal.”
“It is. And the readers will be disappointed, of course, but we can frame it to add a nice element of drama. Instead of a tepid parting of ways between you and Grace, you’ll be the no-show, can’t-commit bachelor. Oxford readers will relate. And Grace will be the scorned woman, to which Stiletto readers will relate.”
I’m tired of being that guy.
Whoa. Where had that thought come from?
But it wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was that they were going to make Grace into some sort of poor victim who got stood up. She wouldn’t want that. The last thing she needed was to feel like a fool again.
“It’s a little demeaning, isn’t it?” he said. “Painting women as victims and men as soulless, unreliable jerks?”
Cassidy turned immediately serious. “When you put it that way, yeah. We’ll handle it carefully. Convey that it was a relationship that just didn’t work out. Happens all the time. People will get it, and feel for you on both sides.”
Jake nodded, even though he didn’t like it.
“Plus you and Grace are no longer the sole show,” Cassidy said. “Given the Costa Rica opportunity, we’ve shifted emphasis a bit. The game won’t be a finale for you and Grace so much as a launch of the next couple. We’re featuring one of Camille’s interns, and Cory Garrison will be taking over for you. People can whip themselves into a frenzy about that.”
Jake didn’t give a f**k who the next couple was. “So Grace will be at the game alone?”
“Her friends will be there, Camille will be there. Hell, I’ll be there. There are tickets for thirty people. The only thing left to figure out is what we’re going to do for the kiss-cam.”
“The what?”
“You know, when they show the couples kissing. Camille’s most recent over-the-top idea. Normally we’d just call it off, but since you two have become local celebrities, the local stations already have the slot booked. It was supposed to be you two on camera with everyone weighing in on whether it was a good-bye kiss or a sexy kiss. That sort of thing.”
That sort of thing. Cassidy made it sound so simple.
Jake rubbed his temples. He didn’t know which was worse, the fact that this whole thing was turning into a spectacle or the fact that he wouldn’t be there. “So what’s your plan?”
Cassidy shrugged. “We’ll get Cole or one of the other guys to step in. Plant the seed that Grace will have her happily-ever-after with another guy.”
Over my dead body.
Jake opened his mouth to tell Cassidy that he had to be there. That he needed to be at this game and see this thing through.
He needed to see if he and Grace had a chance.
But then his eyes found the brochure and his gut twisted. Hell, what did it matter if he went to the game or not? Things were still headed in the same nowhere direction. He’d be jetting all over the place. She’d be here and planning her big white wedding.
He’d known it wouldn’t last.
He just hadn’t known it would suck this bad when it ended.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Hey, give me two minutes,” Grace said, seeing Jake waiting in the doorway of her office. “Just need to finish a draft of this article: ‘Five Romantic Comedies He Won’t Hate.’ ”
“Yeah right,” Jake said. “You writing about unicorns next?”
She shot him a look. “You survived Sleepless in Seattle just fine the other night,” she said, her fingers tapping away on the keyboard.
“No, I survived Tom Hanks just fine. Everyone likes Tom Hanks. Doesn’t mean I’m going to buy the limited-edition DVD or anything.”