Falling for Mister Wrong (19 page)

“A better job.”

“Screw you.”

He was close enough for her to snarl the
words in his face. Then he was closer still, his hands hard,
gripping the back of her skull, the small of her back, hauling her
forward, holding her in place, his mouth slamming down on hers with
unmistakable possession and a need that had been denied too
long.

She bit him.

He jerked back, lifting one hand to his
bleeding lower lip, even as his other stayed tight around her
waist. “
Fuck
, Miranda.”

“No, thank you,” she said sweetly, twisting
out of his grip. “That ride is closed.”

He raked a hand through his silvering hair,
his usual debonair calm deteriorating as she strode back to her
desk. “At least tell me what I did.”

“What you
did
?” She drew up short,
tempted to throw everything not nailed to her desk at him—which was
everything on her desk. She’d start with the sharp things. “What do
you think you did? I adored you.” She would
not
say the L
word again. “And you seemed to feel the same way, though God forbid
you actually
say
how you feel, and for about two seconds I
actually convinced myself that you saw me as an equal, but then you
made it very clear what you really thought of me. What was it you
called me? A parasite?”

“You knew what I meant,” he growled. “The
kind of television you produce—”

“You aren’t my mentor anymore. And you sure
as hell aren’t my father. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

His face pulled into a grimace of distaste.
“I never wanted to be your daddy.”

“You could have fooled me,” she snapped. “You
miss me? Fine. I miss you too, but I’m not going to be your pet or
your adoring disciple. I’m not wired that way. I’ll be your equal
and a woman you respect or I won’t be in your life at all. Now get
out. I have a job to do. A job I am fucking good at.”

“Miranda. I’m serious about the job—”

“I’ll call security if you make me. Then
maybe I’ll call TMZ. What do you think of the headline
American
Dance Star’s Executive Producer Bodily Ejected from Marrying Mister
Perfect Offices
? Catchy enough?”

“Fine,” he growled. “I’m leaving. Call me
when you come to your senses.”

When Hell freezes solid, buddy
.

#

Bennett left Miranda’s office swearing a blue
streak, for once not caring if he looked unprofessional as he
stalked past her stunned assistant and the rest of her staff.

She was his equal. She was better than he
deserved. But she was also too good for the work she insisted on
doing. Pandering to the lowest common denominator of entertainment.
It was cheap and degrading and she was capable of so much more. Why
couldn’t she see that he just wanted the best for her?

He slammed the already-illuminated button to
the elevator, all but growling to himself. An intern had been there
before him and now scuttled frantically toward the stairs. Fine. He
wasn’t fit for company right now anyway.

Two months. Two hellish months she’d been
holding this grudge.

He’d thought he would give her until the end
of the shooting season to get over it. They were both frantically
busy during the fall anyway. He’d forced himself not to contact her
again until the first of the year, telling himself over and over
again that she would have calmed down by then.

He should have known. Miranda was the only
person he’d ever met who was more stubborn than he was. They were
too damn similar.

And he’d never wanted anyone as badly as he
wanted her.

“God
damn
it.”

“Mr. Lang, sir?”

He whipped around, all but snarling until he
saw it was Miranda’s assistant. Had she changed her mind?

“You forgot your…” The assistant held up his
laptop bag and Bennett barely stopped himself from growling.

“Thank you.” He took the bag as the elevator
dinged and then stepped inside.

She thought he didn’t respect her. Hell,
couldn’t she see that it was
because
he respected her that
he couldn’t give ground on this? Shows like hers were destroying
modern culture. Miranda could do
anything
. She could run a
network someday if she wanted to, but what she wanted to do was
exploit the emotional damage of talentless reality television
personalities
. He refused to call them stars.

And he refused to lose her over this.

It was an excuse to push him away because she
was scared. She’d been pushing him away from day one, but she’d
admitted that she missed him, as good as telling him she still
cared.

Bennett Lang didn’t give up. And he wasn’t
going to start with the love of his freaking life.

Chapter
Twenty-One

“
Oh, Daniel. Oh… oh yes… oh
Daniel
.”

The slurping and moaning sounds continued on
the television as the cameras took on a soft focus to avoid FCC
violations. Mimi and Caitlyn just stared.

“I… uh…” Mimi coughed. “Oh crap. Is that her
top floating there?”

“Yes,” Caitlyn gritted out.

“God, this is so uncomfortable,” Mimi
muttered, flicking a neon purple thatch of hair out of her eyes. “I
feel like I’m watching private investigator peeping Tom footage of
a guy cheating on his girlfriend.”

You aren’t far off the mark
.

Another moan—this one definitely
masculine—sounded from the slightly fuzzed out screen and Caitlyn’s
stomach turned.

“Did you know…?” Mimi choked off the
question.

“That Daniel got to third base with Elena in
the Jacuzzi on their second date? Not a clue.” And the bastard
really should have warned her. Miranda had warned her, sort of, but
she still hadn’t been prepared for
this
.

It had started as a group date—the girls
jello wrestling on a beach in string bikinis with all of their
assets bouncing around—and then Elena had been declared the winner
through some very fishy scoring, and received the very intimate
personal time with Daniel that they were now watching.

The camera swung away from the moaning
couple, zooming in and focusing tight on the hot pink postage stamp
of a bikini floating amid the bubbles. The music amped up and there
was a slow fade to black, followed by the cheerful strains of a
diaper commercial.

Oddly fitting. Straight from procreation to
the ultimate result.

Mimi groaned with relief. “Thank God. That
was painful. You okay?”

“I’m…” Caitlyn scanned her emotions, trying
to figure out what she felt about what she’d just seen. “Fine.”

It wasn’t even a lie.

There was a low simmer of anger in her blood,
but it wasn’t about the startling level of physicality he’d already
achieved with Elena.

It was about what Daniel had said about
Caitlyn
during the one time she’d made an appearance on
screen so far this episode. This had been the one week Caitlyn
hadn’t received a date, twiddling her thumbs at the Suitorette
Mansion all week. She’d known that going into tonight’s episode.
She just hadn’t known
why
.

The two solo dates had been given to Sidney,
who’d come home unimpressed, but hadn’t left for another week, and
Amanda, who’d let a little too much of her crazy show, talking
about how they were soulmates within five minutes of meeting, and
earned herself a ticket home.

And then there’d been the jello
wrestling.

Daniel hadn’t wanted Caitlyn on the date
because she was a
lady
and he didn’t want her to
demean
herself. Of course he’d had no problem watching eight
other girls demean the hell out of themselves for the shot at more
time alone with him.

Caitlyn hadn’t wanted to put on a bikini and
tackle another slippery Suitorette, but as she’d listened to Daniel
go on and on about how she was a precious treasure and he didn’t
want her to sully herself, she’d started thinking about the other
dates he’d taken her on—and those she’d heard about from the other
girls that he’d excluded her from.

He never asked her to do anything
embarrassing or awkward, but he also never took her for anything
fun or adventurous. Strolling hand-in-hand through a cute town
square? Yes. Zip lining through the Costa Rican rainforest? Hell,
no. Dressing up for an elegant picnic on a floating platform in a
lagoon? You bet. Swimming with sharks? Never.

He’d all but admitted on national television
that he thought she was made of porcelain. And maybe she wasn’t as
tough and strong as some of the other girls, but she wanted a
chance to prove she could take a risk too.

It was like Daniel had built her a pedestal
on week one and then just kept raising it higher and higher, never
once asking her if she wanted to be up there, if she wanted to be
treated like a treasure, or if maybe she wouldn’t rather be seen as
a woman—one who could get a little dirty and still be a lady.

Daniel would never throw brownie bites at
her. He would only hand feed her caviar as they were sitting
rigidly upright at a gorgeous antique table.

Coarse, sexual behavior was for Elena.

“Do you think he’s attracted to me?”

Mimi’s head snapped around, classic
deer-in-headlights. “What?”

Sure, he kissed her over the weeks and it was
lovely and romantic, but it was never
hot
. He never looked
at her like he would die if he couldn’t get into her pants that
very instant. Even on the overnight date, right before the finale,
Caitlyn had told him she wasn’t ready to sleep with him and he’d
instantly acquiesced, swearing that he wouldn’t respect her so much
if she had said anything else.

But she didn’t know what had happened on his
overnight with Elena. She had a feeling it hadn’t been chaste, if
the Jacuzzi was an indication.

The one night they’d spent together when
Caitlyn had his ring on her finger they had finally gone the
distance, but it had been… sort of anticlimactic.

He’d been so
respectful
. Not that sex
couldn’t be worshipful
and
satisfying, but there was nothing
raw or hungry about it. She’d never had raw and hungry in her
less-than-impressive history of sexual experiences and she wanted
it. She wanted to be the woman who inspired it. She wanted a man
who looked at her with barely suppressed heat.

The way Will looks at me
.

“Caitlyn?” Mimi prompted, but luckily the
show came back on at that moment, forestalling her explanation.
Elena was arriving back at the Suitorette Mansion—
without
her bikini top underneath her sundress—and proceeding to gloat to
every Suitorette who had stayed up waiting for her.

Caitlyn sighed, letting her attention drift
away from the screen.

She remembered the tension of the next few
days and weeks. All of the girls ganging up on Elena, calling her
trashy and manipulative behind her back. And sometimes to her face.
Whining to Daniel that she wasn’t there for the right reasons.
Throwing themselves at him to prove that Elena wasn’t the only one
with sexual wiles.

It hadn’t been fun the first time and Caitlyn
didn’t particularly want to relive it. Thank God for the piano. If
she hadn’t been able to escape and play, she would have gone crazy
listening to the cattiness in the house.

That cattiness was probably what Will had
thought of when he’d learned she went on
Marrying Mister
Perfect
. No wonder he’d reacted the way he had.

“Awww…” Mimi sighed and Caitlyn focused back
in on the screen. It was the night of the Elimination Ceremony and
two dozen red roses had been delivered to the Suitorette Mansion
while they were all getting dressed. Roses for Caitlyn.

She’d forgotten about that. The roses. The
card—
Thinking of you even when we’re apart. Your Daniel.

She’d melted at the time, smiling like she
had a secret and pressing the card against her heart. It had seemed
so romantic, so thoughtful.

Now she thought of the roses wilting where
she’d hidden them up in the loft. Same old Daniel, using the same
old playbook.
Screw up? Send flowers! Instant fix!

Come to think of it, she seemed to remember
him showering Marcy with roses during the previous season as
well.

They watched the Elimination Ceremony and the
preview for the following week, then Caitlyn subtly ushered Mimi
out the door as quickly as possible. She wasn’t surprised when
Daniel didn’t pick up the phone. He was a master at avoiding things
he didn’t want to face. The message she left was simple.

“Daniel. We need to talk.”

Now to see how long it took him to man up and
face the music. The clock was ticking.

Chapter
Twenty-Two

Will’s cell began to vibrate as he was
kicking the snow off his boots on his deck on Thursday night. It
was his day off, but the powder had been too good to resist. It was
one of those crisp clear blue-sky days where the vistas were so
beautiful they hurt your eyes and every breath of air reminded you
how good it was to be alive. The only thing that would make his
ski-high better would be if he could see Caitlyn. Maybe grab some
dinner, coax her into a little fooling around, get her to play
something sexy on the piano…

And as soon as he’d thought it, his phone
began to buzz.

He used his teeth to pull off his gloves,
yanked at his jacket zipper and fished out the phone in a rush to
get to it before it could go to voicemail. He didn’t bother to
check caller ID, grinning as he lifted the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

There was a pause, as if he’d caught her off
guard and she had to mentally regroup after planning to leave a
message. Then a hesitant. “Will. It’s good to hear your voice.”