Rock Bottom (26 page)

“Sure.”

With a grin, he gazed at her lips, his chest expanding with a held breath.

“Jet Trently. It’s your manager. Open up.” Stu’s singsong voice sounded more annoying than usual.

Jet hoisted up to sitting and reached for his shoes. “Tell him I slept in the studio.” Standing, he leaned a hand on the bed and straightened his shoe, then paused, gazing at her. He cocked his jaw with a groan, and stood. “See you,” he whispered, and crept to the door to the hallway.

She lifted a hand in a wave, but instead reached out for him.

Holding the knob, he straightened, nostrils flared, heat coursing through him. He’d definitely get back to her on that. With a slow grin, he slipped silently out the door.

* * * *

For a moment, Billie thought he might come back.

Unfair that guys should look so good first thing in the morning. Such long lashes--the bimbos would kill for naturally full lashes. His long hair fell across his forehead and cheek, bristled with whiskers. And his lips…

Stu knocked the image from her head.

Climbing out of bed, Billie hated Stu more than anyone in the world. At the door, she mussed her hair further and pulled open the door, rubbing her eyes. “What’s going on?”

Stu’s eyes narrowed as he peered at her, then past her to the bed. “Where is he?”

“Who?” She infused a sleepiness in her voice, quite convincingly.

Rooster-like, he craned his neck toward her. “Jet.”

Had he made it safely there yet? “He brought me here last night. I told him I was too afraid to sleep in the cottage--”

“Where is he?”

Shaking her head, she frowned. “Um…” In her best performance of a bimbo to date, she pouted and held a hand to her temple. “I--”

“Miss Prescott.” His teeth clenched, he turned uncertainly.

Jet had to be there by now. Pretending to suddenly remember, she blanked her face and shoved her hair back. “He said he was going to sleep in the studio.”

Stu shuffled his feet, his gaze sliding to the floor. “The studio.”

Following his stare, she saw Jet’s belt on the floor. “Right. That’s what he said.”

He pursed his lips. “Mmm hmm.”

All innocence, she shrugged.

His eyes twitched and he clucked his tongue. “Sure. The studio.” Turning, he glanced back. “Tell him thank you.”

“You’ll see him before I will,” she called.

With a wave, he walked downstairs.

Billie shut the door and leaned against it. All that work for nothing. Stu knew. Touching her cheek, warmth flushed through her thinking of his kiss. Hurrying to the bathroom, she skidded to a stop at the mirror.

No wonder Stu guessed, with her chin and cheeks rubbed red from his whiskers. Her fingers featherlight on her face, she couldn’t pass off what happened as a dream, though it seemed like one. Too good to be real.

So it probably is.

The thought sobered her. Time to get back to her cottage. Returning to the bedroom, the sight of the bed halted her--covers mussed, pillows atop one another. Like she and Jet had been. She went to the bed and hugged his pillow to her, inhaling his scent.

He mistook you for one of the bimbos, that’s all. Until he woke up and realized who you were.
He probably shared his bed with each--maybe all--of them by now. It would explain why he hadn’t tried anything with her last night.

Sadness slowed her movements as she made the bed. Sitting on it, she smoothed the duvet one last time. With a sigh, she rose and gathered her things, making sure no trace of her remained when she slowly closed the door behind her.

Trudging downstairs, a noise hastened her steps onto the first floor, through the dining room and out onto the back patio. Rounding the corner of the cabana, she tensed as a man entered the editing room.

Glancing back, Danny’s features hardened as he saw her.

Another enemy to contend with now.

Ducking her head, she continued down the walk and inserted her key in the cottage door, pausing at approaching voices. Jet and Stu. Pulling out the key, she fumbled it to gain time.

They quieted when they turned the corner.

Jet slowed his pace. “Hey.” Jamming a hand into his pocket, he strolled to her. “Guess you found everything?”

Did he mean her things? “Yes, thanks.” Tucking her hair behind her ear, her mind blanked. “Thanks for everything.”

Toeing the edge of the walkway, he looked up. “Everything?”

Her cheeks burned, and she fiddled with her key. “Well, you know…” A nervous chuckle escaped. “With everything last night,” she mumbled. “If anyone asks, I’ll tell the others…” she caught herself. The others, the competitors. Rivals.

Staring at her key, she forced her thoughts back on track. “I’ll tell them it was Stu’s idea that I stay in your room.”

“Oh. Good thinking.”

“So they wouldn’t think you wanted me there.” Her voice trailed off. Had he? She’d begged him to stay. Practically forced him. As she’d proclaimed, Jet was a gentleman if nothing else.

“Right. Well.” He eased backward, glancing toward the house. “I should probably…” He jerked his thumb behind him.

“Me too. Lots of work to do.”

He froze. “You won’t write about it, will you?”

“Last night? No.” Of course she wouldn’t embarrass him. Sleeping with a journalist. And only sleeping. She couldn’t even seduce the guy who slept with every girl in the universe. A bitter laugh escaped.

His brows furrowed. “Good. Okay then.” His gaze held some tentative accusation, but what? Suspicion? Betrayal? “See you.” He strode off.

Helpless as she’d ever felt, she stammered, searching for something to say.
Sorry if I kept you awake
didn’t sound right, nor did
thanks for holding me while I wept like a baby.
How humiliating. Such a fool she’d acted, and today only made things worse. He really was kind not to mention how stupid she was. She’d remind herself, repeatedly, and maybe prevent future occurrences.

She fumbled the key in earnest, pushing blindly at the door to get inside. Humiliated and confused, she paced. She couldn’t claim sleeplessness. Last night, she’d slept soundly, Jet’s body warm against hers, a snug, comfortable fit.

Stop!
Scooping grounds into the coffeemaker, not even the deep aroma distracted her. The machine’s burbling didn’t bring the usual anticipation of coffee, usually one of life’s necessities.

Zin. She’d provide some much-needed perspective. Powering up her laptop, she typed as soon as the email program opened, detailing the events of last night. Pouring out her heart, Billie finished with:
Tell me straight. Am I crazy?

Finger poised over the mouse, cursor poised over the
send
button, she froze. What the hell was she doing? Quickly she highlighted all the text and hit
delete
. Electronic messages had a way of reaching the wrong hands. Zin, she’d trust with her life, but to put any of this in writing would be to invite disaster. People had methods of watching others’ personal accounts, and she couldn’t jeopardize Jet’s career. If anything leaked to the public, Justin might come forward and accuse Jet of assault. No. She’d have to be very careful. Discreet, even with Zin. Anyway, Billie already knew what her friend’s response would be:
Yes, you’re out of your mind.

Of course she was. Blowing it all out of proportion. He’d have done the same for anyone. Except he might have done more than sleep.
That in itself should be a huge clue, moron. He has zero interest in you.
Why should she care? Jet was the last person she wanted to become involved with. It went against her professional ethics, as well as personal. Until the season ended, she’d maintain complete integrity.

At Stu’s insistence, everyone gathered in the kitchen. The day had been boring until now, with the bimbos apparently hung over, which made for less than riveting reality.

Danny explored the inside of his cheek with his tongue, apparently unsure what to do with himself with no camera in his hands. As soon as Danny had arrived, Stu mimed slicing his own throat, and Danny switched off the videocam.

Jet poured coffee, avoiding Billie’s gaze, though he couldn’t help glancing up. Last night solidified what he’d felt, melted away the confusion. He had to shift his stance when he remembered how good she felt beneath him. He couldn’t wait to be alone with her again.

Tapping his fingers on the counter, Stu winced. “Where is she?”

Brianna clomped downstairs, suitcase in hand and set it in the hallway.

“What’s up with you?” Cat paused her nail file.

Straightening, Brianna wobbled on her spiked heels. “I’m leaving.”

The other contestants gasped in unison. “What?”

Her nose in the air, she sniffed. “I love Justin. I’m leaving to be with him.”

Billie looked up in time to receive Brianna’s glare.

“Jet, I’m sorry.” Throwing her long scarf behind her shoulder, she reached for her bag.

He shot her a cursory glance. “Guess that’ll save me the trouble of eliminating you tonight.” Two left. Tom Petty had it right. The waiting was the hardest part.

With a gasp, Brianna whirled, grabbed her suitcase and hurled herself toward the door.

Stu snapped his fingers in the air. “Hold on. All right, listen up. Everyone.” Scanning the room, his gaze found Billie. “Including you.
Especially
you.” Turning back to the group, he continued. “None of this leaves this room. Capiche?”

The contestants exchanged confused glances.

Brianna lifted her chin. “I don’t care what you--”

Stu’s voice shook. “You will care if I leak your history to the press, sweetheart.” His finger shot toward Billie. “And that’s no invitation for you to poke around.”

She shrugged. “I write for a music magazine, not a gossip rag.”

With a bitter laugh, his head bobbed. “Nonetheless. Cindy?”

His assistant stepped from the hallway.

“Get everyone to sign off on this. This is what the public will learn about today. Justin unexpectedly left the show. No details are to be shared other than that single fact. Brianna left to be with Justin. End of story. Got it?” Meeting each person’s gaze, he waited until she nodded before moving on to the next. When he got to Billie, he repeated emphatically, “Got it?”

“Yes. Like I said…”

Jet set his cup on the counter. “You don’t need to worry about Billie.”

Stu narrowed his eyes. “We need to talk. In my office, now.”

“Don’t you mean my office?” The reminder was less than gentle.

Bowing with a sickly smile, Stu gestured toward the hall.

“Goodbye, Jet.” Brianna’s attempt at drama fell flat. Jet waved her out the door as he strode inside.

* * * *

When Jet and Stu left, Billie’s gut clenched. Her reporter’s instinct should kick in, ready for the fallout. Instead, she’d rather be anywhere but alone with the remaining contestants and crew. She buried her face in a magazine.

“What’s going on with them?” Ashley sunk onto a stool.

Cat glared at Billie. “The bitch knows. Don’t you?”

What the hell kind of lies had Justin told Brianna? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’ve been walking around all day with a stupid grin on your face.” Cat slunk toward her.

“You’re crazy.”
Whoa, watch what you say.
The mob mentality might kick in, and feral bimbos could prove the fiercest predators.

Ashley stood. “And you slept in his room last night. Why?”

“The...pipes leaked in the cottage.” Their faces clouded with confusion. “Stu suggested it, actually. Jet only agreed to sleep in his studio because he’s a gentleman.” Stu would back her up. He’d have to.

Cat crept closer. “Oh, so now he’s a gentleman? I thought you couldn’t stand him.”

“I never said that.” Tempted to fuel their jealousy by saying she slept in Jet’s tee shirt, she stilled her tongue.

Ashley’s tone turned shrill. “You didn’t have to. You’re nothing but a two-faced--”

“Ladies.”

At Cindy’s sharp tone, everyone turned to gawk.

Arms folded, she sounded as matronly as she appeared. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your closeup? With Brianna gone, you’ll have more air time. The pressure’s on. You’re down to three.”

Ashley and Cat turned their sharp glances upon one another, then sashayed upstairs. Julie followed.

Billie sighed with relief. “Thanks. I owe you one.” She repressed the urge to ask if Cindy could make Danny stop glaring. He adjusted the boom mic, fiddled with the camera, sending daggers in his glance every minute or so.

“No sweat. Yogurt?” Cindy opened the fridge.

“I’m good, thanks.” If only she could say that with conviction. “So is everything all right?”

Cindy stirred her yogurt. “Yeah. Jet had Justin sign a waiver before he left. Jet promised he wouldn’t press charges if Justin left quietly. And immediately.”

“No worries he’ll change his mind?” Or that Danny would talk?

“Not if he wants to keep working his plush new gig. He swapped jobs with a VH1 video guy. Should be here tomorrow. Danny’ll break him in, right, Danny?”

He grunted and bent to straighten a cord.

“Danny understands the sensitivities of working on a reality show. And so do you, right?” Her clear-eyed gaze made no bones about the seriousness of the subject.

If Cindy turned against her, she’d have no one watching out for her. “Absolutely.”

Watching Cindy walk back to her desk, Billie thought she had an excellent future in politics.

Another evil stare from Danny drove her to her feet and outside. Her cell buzzed, and Everett’s name showed in the display. Not up to another argument, she let it go to voice mail.

Jet and Stu reappeared in the kitchen, so Billie slipped back inside. Cat, Ashley and Julie joined them, and Stu explained that Cindy was preparing a fact sheet for them to review before they began taping again. “Stick to these facts, and everything will be fine. If you decide to embellish in the least, let me assure you, you will follow Brianna out the door.” His smile faded. “No exceptions.” Turning to Billie, he aimed for her like a missile, guided her by the elbow to the doors. “If you have a minute, I’d like to speak with you.”