Game, Set, Match (A Humorous Contemporary Romance) (Love Match) (25 page)

He moved toward her. “I know. I just want to review some logistics with you.” Taking her hand, he pulled her into the office. “I have a surprise for you. A couple of surprises actually.”

She didn’t care for interruptions while she worked. “What is it Simon? Can it wait? I’m in the zone.”

Once in her office, he went around to her chair and laid out several pamphlets with pictures of beautiful women in black tie attire and beautiful jewels. The exuberance ebbed from him in waves, so infectious she almost laughed. One of the reasons she’d selected him as her manager was his faith and excitement about her work. If he hadn’t been excited, she wouldn’t have hired him.

He grinned at her, unable to keep his excitement in. “Do you remember Jennifer Dubois?”

Izzy searched her memory. “The diamond lady?” The Dubois were well known for their diamonds and even more famous for their association with celebrities who wore their sparkly designs. “Yeah, I remember her.”

“Well she loved the Arctic landscape photo you sent her so much, she wants you to wear their designs at the opening.”

Diamonds? Save some solitaire earrings from her mother, she’d never really worn diamonds. Not the real deal anyway. “This is a joke, right? Why?”

“No joke. She wants her designs taking center stage with the press corps.”

Izzy couldn’t quite process the information. “Center stage?”

“Well, maybe stage left as your photos should be the focus. You get the idea.”

Her head swam. She’d thought the gallery opening was like every other small showing she’d done. She selected the photos, the gallery got them framed and hung, she made a guest appearance toward the end of the night and she could run away. They’d never been a big deal. “Did you say press? I don’t do press. You know how nervous I get. We had a deal—I’d do the pre-press, and then I’d escape.”

His grin
fell a fraction. “C’mon, Izzy, this is great news. We need the press. The time has come to unveil Z Con.”

Izzy tried to quell the rolling motions of her stomach contents. “What if she doesn’t want to be
unveiled. We had a deal.”

“We discussed no press in the past, but USC was a long time ago. No one remembers what happened but you. The press is eating this up. Not to mention, with them in attendance, you’ll get more exposure.”

Izzy shook her head vehemently. “What if I don’t want more exposure? You put too much on my plate as it is.”

He came around the desk and took her hands. “Busy work is what’s on your plate. You’re a famous photographer. I want to take you to the next level. You’re ready. You shouldn’t be doing portraits and engagement photos.”

What if she liked them? “I am at the next level. I like doing—”

He shook his head. “No, Izzy. You do those things, because you’re afraid you won’t survive if you don’t. Newsflash, Izzy. With openings like this, you’ll get to a point where you don’t even think of money.”

“I need to think about money. It’s not just me on my own.” Her stomach twisted. This was the last conversation she wanted to have. The argument was stale. She often turned down work because of time she’d already committed to small projects.

Frustrated, he ran his hands through his hair. “Izzy, you’ve filled Nick’s college fund to the brim. You—”

Men. He’d never understand. “Not just the college fund. His current school fees. They’re astronomical. Making sure he has the best I can provide him. This house, his future. I don’t expect you to understand.”

He took hold of her shoulders. “I do understand. He’s a great kid with a terrific mom. I’m trying to give his mom the best of what I can offer, as her manager and—”

Izzy interrupted before he could go on. She would garner more sales if there were press at the event and not just before. She didn’t want to fight with Simon. Especially not now. “Okay, fine. I’ll do one press interview. You decide who with. I don’t want my life or Nick’s to become fodder for tabloids or anything.”

He grinned and dropped his hands. “You got it. So does this mean you’re not going to wear the diamonds?” He waved the pamphlet of show diamonds in her face.

She grabbed at it. “Let’s not be hasty.”

He laughed and pulled her in for a hug. She didn’t resist at first, happy to be in a familiar camaraderie. They were friends, after all. Expect they weren’t, exactly. He worked for her.
Or the other way around, depending on perspective. 
Note to self: Get more friends I don’t pay for.

When he held on for several beats too long, she struggled to move out of the embrace.

“Izzy, I—”

Shaking her head, she said. “Simon, don’t.” She wiggled out of his grip and took a step back. “I can’t. I don’t want…” Her voice trailed. How could she do this without hurting him?

The expression on his face was equal parts disappointment and determination. “We’ve been dancing around the subject of us for months, Izzy. Maybe even years. We would be good together.”

They’d been dancing?
 Izzy wished somebody had told her as much. She hated dancing to a song she didn’t pick herself. “Simon, we’ve got a great working relationship and friendship, I don’t want anything to get in the way—”

A determined set to his jaw, he asked, “Would it help if I quit my job?”

Panic stared creeping up her spine. Why wouldn’t he let it go? “No, Simon, it wouldn’t.” Then, with more conviction, she added, “I don’t feel the spark with you. You’re terrific, and maybe we confused our friendship for more, but the chemistry isn’t there.” There. It was out. Her hands clamped on the desk, and she waited for the inevitable to happen. Acrimony, arguing, anger, disaster.

Nothing happened, save his annoyed expression. Izzy felt the tension flow out of her shoulders. She’d confronted him and everything had turned out fine. At least everything seemed fine. He didn’t hate her… maybe.

Simon didn’t seem heart broken or disappointed, rather more determined than anything. “I can’t say I’m not surprised you feel this way right now, but give it time. When things die down, we’ll g—”

Hadn’t he heard her? “Simon? I’m so sorry, but more time isn’t going to do anything. It’s not going to work.”

“Well, I refuse to accept that.”

Her eyes widened as she stared at him. “Are you refusing our pseudo breakup?”

He put his hands on his hips. “Yes. I guess I am.”

Exasperated, she stared at him. How was she supposed to break up with him when he wouldn’t let her? Hell they weren’t even dating. “Simon, look, I don’t want to hurt you, but I want to spend some time on my own exploring myself, and
er, things.” She shifted from foot to foot. She was usually the one on the receiving end of breakups.

A dark scowl marred his normally handsome face.
“Other men?”

Shit
. Why had she left it open ended? Now she felt like a total bitch. 
No, no no. You can’t do things in life because other people want you to.
 In some ways, her life would be so much easier if she wanted to see him naked. However, she couldn’t muster the urge.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you, Simon. I didn’t intend to.”

He nodded as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Tell me one thing, Izzy. Does this have anything to do with the tennis player?”

She hadn’t anticipated the question, and it sent tension slamming back onto her shoulders. She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Jason? No, this has nothing to do with him.”

Simon stood up straight and stiffened his spine. “Are you sure? I deserve the truth.”

Izzy shoved aside the feelings of guilt and disappointment when she thought of Jason. “No, Simon. I told you. He’s an old friend.”
If she used the word friend loosely
.

Simon shrugged.
“Yeah, sure, fine. It’s none of my business. Though, if you’re going to choose the hot-shot white boy, be aware of what you’re getting into.”

The tension she felt turned to anger in a flash. “You can’t make this about him, Simon.”

“Like I said, none of my business. I’m only trying to protect my investment in your career. The guy is no good. He uses women like tissues. He parties all the time. No telling what kind of shit he does at those clubs. You want someone like him influencing your teenaged son? You’ll be splashed in the tabloids like some socialite party whore. We’ve worked too hard to let him happen to your career.”

She narrowed her eyes.
“So much for being civil adults.”

“I’m not trying to pick a fight with you. Since you’re choosing the tennis pro to help your position with Nick’s custody, make sure he comes up lily white.”

A breeze blew through the open window, hitting Izzy’s skin and cooling the sweat forming. The nausea was back. This wasn’t how the conversation was supposed to go. “I told you, Simon. Jason has nothing to do with this. This is my decision. Even if he did, how dare you insinuate I’d use him to help me sway the court. You know me better than that.”

“Maybe I don’t.”

He didn’t say anything as he left the office. Needing the additional support, Izzy lowered herself onto the edge of her desk. “That went well.”

Chapter
Nineteen

The juices of competition flowed over Jason like a comfortable hot spring. He stared at his opponent across the net, analyzed his stance, anticipated his move. With two bounces of the tennis ball, Jason served and quickly followed with a run up to the net anticipating his opponent’s return.

But his opponent didn’t do what he expected. He lobbed the ball to Jason’s right, forcing Jason to make a run for it. In a classic Jason Cartwright move, Jason sprinted as he anticipated easing into a slide move, but at the last moment, all the muscles around his knee tensed at the thought of the slide forcing Jason to run past his target.
 
Shit
.

“Are you getting slow in your old age,
Jase?” Aaron taunted him from across the net.

Jason gritted his teeth as he took his position, anticipating Aaron’s serve. He had to get his head in the game. If Aaron beat him, he was in worse shape than he thought. “Shut up, Aaron.”

“All right, all right, no need to get testy.” As he palmed the ball before bouncing it again, he added, “I mean, if you’re not up to it, all you have to do is say so.”

Gripping his racket tighter, Jason tried to calm himself.
 
I can do this. This is nothing. It’s not like the guy is Nadal.
 “Shut up and play, Aaron.”

“Whatever you say,
buddy. Though, next game I want to put a little wager down.”

Aaron threw the ball high and slammed with all his might in an effort to get an Ace. Jason’s return was swift and efficient. Slicing over the net, it left little room for a return volley.

At least some things didn’t change. Aaron ran for it, but couldn’t get a swing in before its second bounce. Jason bit back his grin. “My serve.”

As he positioned himself at the baseline again, he allowed himself to gloat a little before focusing his concentration again. “What was that about a wager, Aaron?”

He chuckled when Aaron flipped him the bird. As he analyzed the wind, his angle, and Aaron’s position, he bounced the ball. Once, then again. Tossing it high, he slammed the racket with enough force to add a spin. Aaron huffed as he chased the ball, grunting as his racket made contact. His return went wild, sailing over the fence and into the yard.

Jason went to retrieve another ball, but Aaron signaled a time out as he leaned over to suck in gulps of air. He lifted his head to peer at Jason. “I see part of you is still working right.”

Jason unlocked his jaw, wondering if he could make it through Wimbledon with only part of him working right. “I guess you don’t want that wager anymore?”

Aaron sneered, but gestured to Jason’s knee.
“Your knee holding up?”

“It’s holding.” He almost choked on the lie. He’d need to do something if he wanted to be up to playing snuff anytime soon.

“That’s great news.” Aaron scrutinized his face. “Why don’t you look happy, man?”

Jason plastered a fake smile on his face. “Oh, I’m happy.”

Harsh laughter filled the air. “C’mon, Jase. We got a lot going on right now, but you have an, 
I need to go on a serious bender
 look about you. What’s wrong? The press?”

Jason grabbed his towel and tennis bag as he followed Aaron up the stairs to the house. “What could be wrong with my life? The
press follow me around like I leave them breadcrumbs. I’m busting my balls for some impossible goals. And I have an ex-trainer trying to smear me in the press. Everything is nifty.”

“Well impossible goals are what we need. Let’s not forget what a beating you took after last year’s US Open.
Then the whole Michaels scandal. Let’s not forget the clause on your endorsements about placing in one Grand Slam tournament a year.”

Jason grimaced. He didn’t need reminders about the state of his future. “You’re right. I need the press. I need a good profile. I’m new and improved.”

Aaron preceded Jason into the brightly lit living room. “You look like you need an afternoon off. What do you say we hit the showers and head out to the Playboy mansion? Word is the playmate of the year’s going to be at the pool party. We can catch some sun, and you can practice being very well behaved in the presence of gorgeous women.”