So. Long.: Bad Boy Next Door (40 page)

I grab my purse and follow the perky girl down the
corridors. She holds her clipboard to her chest, a little spring in her step.

I have to ask. “Just out of curiosity, do you like working
with Mr. Tremaine?”

She nods. “Oh, yes. He’s great. I’ve worked for others in
similar positions, but none are as awesome as he is.”

My jaw clenches. Is she sleeping with him? Has she slept
with him? She is cute. “What makes him so awesome?”

She stops and lets out a huge sigh. “My husband has some
health issues. Jack’s been amazing about helping us out. He’s super
understanding when I have to take off work or if something comes up and I need
to leave. I used to be employed by the show, but when it looked like they were
going to let me go because of all the missed time, he told them he’d personally
pay my salary. He’s probably one of the nicest guys I know.”

“Wow. I had no idea. That’s—that’s really sweet.”
Surprising, but in the best way.

She takes off down the hall again. “Jack doesn’t like it to
get around, but he’s really a big ol’ softy.”

“It sounds like it.” Bull comes to mind. Jackson could
afford to buy some purebred pooch, but he opted to save a life by rescuing a
dog that needed a second chance.

Cindy stops at the end of the hall and shows me into a large
conference room.

“I hope your husband’s health improves.”

“Thank you. Wait right here. Jack will be right with you.”
She closes the blinds at the window looking into the hallway and shuts the door
as she leaves.

I settle into one of the soft leather chairs parked next to
the very long mahogany table. My stomach still rolls a bit, but at least the
urge to vomit has passed. I inhale and exhale a few times, trying to steady my
nerves.

Taking my little note card from my purse, I double check the
points I want to make during the interview.

I pull a pen from the side pocket of my bag so I can jot
down a couple of extra notations.

I turn.

Jack closes the door and takes four long strides. “Ronnie.”

I scoot the chair back so I can stand, but he kneels in
front of me.

He takes my hands. “You look great.”

His touch is a soothing balm to my nerves.

“Thanks. You too.”

He kisses the backs of my hands. “How’ve you been? It seems
like forever since I saw you last.”

I swallow the words I’d like to toss at him, still
vacillating between missing him and being royally ticked off about the way he’s
behaved. “It’s only been a few days.”

“A single day is too long.” He grins.

I have to do something before he melts me with that smile. I
gently twist my hands out of his grasp. “So, what are we going over?”

He moves to a chair. “Not much. I only want to see which
positive traits you plan to highlight. Which ones do you feel are most
important for a potential
man of your dreams
?”

My fingers flutter at my pendant. I sit on my hands so I
won’t look so freaking nervous. “I don’t know about
most important
. I figured
I’d go for some of the lesser thought about qualities. Like how a man handles
stressors, such as the loss of a job or the death of a family member. These things
happen to almost everyone at some point, and they can really affect a
relationship.”

“Okay, that’s good. What else?”

“The importance of a potential mate being willing to
compromise on large issues, such as where the couple will live. If partners
don’t agree on big ticket items, it can be detrimental.”

“All right. Perfect.”

He leans toward me, his elbows on his knees, eyes intense.
“So, how’ve you been? Did you get over that bug you had the other day? Or are
you still feeling puny?”

I pull at the neckline of my dress as my throat thickens.
“Well, it’s lingering a bit. But I’m fine right now. Thanks for asking.”

He traces my jaw with the pad of his finger. “I’m sorry
you’ve been sick. I wish I could make it better.”

My chest tightens. I bite the corner of my lip. “I’ll be
okay.”

His eyes search mine. “Do you have anything you need to talk
about? Anything at all?”

I shake my head and lean away from his hand. This is not the
time for telling secrets, Jack. You have no idea. “No. I’m good. Is there
anything else we should discuss for the show?”

He checks his watch. “No, I don’t think so. I need to go.
I’ll see you in a little while.”

“I thought you were going to tell me which traits you want
to chat about.”

He gives a half-shrug as he stands. “Oh, just the basics.
Nothing too controversial.”

I get to my feet as well.

He leans in and kisses my cheek. “Keep your eyes open backstage.
I don’t want you to trip and get hurt. You have to take extra care in your
condition.”

A hot knot of dread sinks deep into my gut as the room takes
a spin around my head. I steady myself with a hand on the back of the chair at
my side. “Say again? My
condition
?”

Jack glances at my belly, but only for a fraction of a
second.

“Look, I have to get to make-up. We can talk after the show.”
He pulls me into his arms, giving me a gentle squeeze as he presses a soft kiss
to my temple. “I
want
to talk later. I think we
need
to talk.”

I can’t breathe. When he lets go, I grip the chair again. He
leaves the room, and I lean over, getting some oxygen to my brain.

He knows. But how? What gave me away? Oh, God. What’s he
going to do? What will he think? What will he say?

SIXTEEN

Mom’s right.

Ronnie’s pregnant.

My chest tightens, but I don’t know whether it’s excitement
or stress.

It has to be my baby. Doesn’t it? It hasn’t been long enough
for her to know she’s pregnant, if it’s Dave’s. Has it?

Fucking Dave.

No. She has to be carrying my baby.

While Bianca dabs my face with powder so I don’t wash out
under the lights, I hold my phone to the side and search online. Mom said she
met Ronnie in the bathroom right after Ronnie vomited.

I type into the search bar:
How far along in a pregnancy
does morning sickness start?

I scroll through the first few of the six-hundred and ten
thousand results. All four of the ones I read say six weeks.

That would put conception at sometime the week before New
Years. “Ha! I knew it.”

I grab Bianca and give her a big kiss on the cheek. “Sorry,
but that’s enough for today. I have to go.”

I pull away from Bianca, snatching the little tissue tucked
into my collar and tossing it in the bin. As I head out the door, energy fills
me. I take a couple of punches at the air before I go for the knockout swing.
My chest puffs out, and suddenly the world is a better place.

I can fix this. I have to make this right. She has to know
that baby’s mine. That the baby is ours. Together.

God, please let me make this right.

I go straight for the greenroom, but Cindy catches me. “Hey,
I’ve been looking for you. You’re on in two. C’mon. I’ve got Ronnie all queued
up and waiting in the wings.”

My elation grows. “Good. Perfect. I’ll see her on-set then.”

With a spring in my step, I pull my note cards from my
jacket pocket. Good. This is excellent. What makes a good partner? That he’s
the father of your child. Check.

The studio audience claps and whistles as I take the stage.
A couple of good jokes with a badum-ching at the punch lines. The house band
plays a song, while I work the crowd. Finally, I take the seat at my desk.

My heart races like it hasn’t done since the first time I
took the stage in front of live spectators. I tug at my collar.

“Well, here we are, folks. The week before Valentine’s Day. If
you recall, I had a guest duo on not long before Christmas, one of which is a
love expert who’s written this fantastic book titled
Decoding the Man in
Your Life
.” I hold up a copy of the book. “Ms. Ronnie Fitz, whom I dubbed
Love
‘Em
, is a brilliant young woman, and we’re very lucky to have her with us
again this evening.”

I move to the edge of the curtain. Offstage, Ronnie wrings
her hands. Her hair curls wildly about her head. The red dress compliments her
skin. And she’s carrying our baby. She’s fucking gorgeous.

My breath catches. I can imagine how beautiful she’ll look carrying
our child. How amazing her tits will be when she’s breastfeeding.

I hold out my hand, hoping she’ll take it for more than just
a trip to the chair on stage. Ronnie looks at the floor as she comes toward me.

My smile kicks up a notch as she lays her hand in mine. I
whisper, “No tripping into my arms this time?”

She bites her lips instead of smiling. I want to bite those
lips again too—soon.

I escort Ronnie to her seat and take my own.

I pull out my note cards, tapping them on the desk to
straighten them.

I look into the camera positioned in the center aisle. “Now,
I have to admit, I was a bit skeptical when first introduced to Ms. Fitz’s
concepts and theories.”

“However, over the last few weeks, I’ve come to appreciate
the wisdom within these pages.” I turn to Ronnie as I tap the cover of the
book.

Her eyes are wide, her mouth a bit agape. I wink with the
eye not facing the camera.

She gives a slight shake of her head and smiles. “Wow,
that’s high praise indeed. Thank you for having me on the show.”

I run my finger across her name, where it’s imprinted on the
cover of her book. “Since you’re here and we’re so close to the big day for
lovers, let’s talk a bit about traits women should look for in their future
mates.”

“Jackson, I’m so glad you brought that up.” Her voice
is—wrong. She folds her hands together over her knees and looks into the camera
on my left. “Actually, I’ve been doing a bit of thinking lately about those
positive traits.”

A sense of foreboding sinks into my stomach like an egg
settling into an old nest, starting to rot. “And what have you been thinking?”

I want so badly to grab her by her shoulders and kiss those
full lips, drag her off stage, and put all of this behind us.

A twinkle comes into her eye—somehow this doesn’t seem like
a good thing. “The thing is, women need to not only know what to look for as
far as positives, but they also need to be aware of some negatives that they
should avoid in a long-term relationship.”

I pop open the button on my jacket and adjust it as I lean
forward, propping an elbow on the edge of the desk. “Negatives?”

She nods. “Yes, for every positive trait, there’s a negative
one that is every bit as important. Wouldn’t you say?”

I smile at the camera and lean closer. My jaw clenches, and
I say under my breath, “This isn’t where I wanted this conversation to go.”

Ronnie gives me a look like she’s talking to a dimwit.
“Well, sometimes things won’t always go your way.”

Then she turns to the audience. “Wouldn’t you ladies like to
know what traits you should avoid like the plague?”

The ladies in the audience go wild. I shoot Eric, the
producer, a look. He lifts his hands in a shrug.

Looking into the camera, I say, “And we’ll find out about
those, right after this commercial break.”

Once I get the signal that we’re off the air. I turn to
Ronnie. “What are you doing? We agreed to discuss the positive traits.”

She pats my hand. “I know. But since it’s my book, I decided
it’s just as important to bring to light some of the things women should be
careful of. I mean, no one wants to hook up with someone only to find out that
they don’t have the same values.”

“Values?” What values?

“Oh, do I have a second or two to go pee before we’re back
on the air?”

I slump and wave her offstage. “Ninety seconds.”

Ronnie hops up and dashes away.

“Be careful of the cables,” I call after her.

She’s avoiding me. I know it. She didn’t want to tell me why
she sandbagged me, so she feigned bladder needs. I move to shake hands with a
few audience members. Smile and nod. Shake. Smile and nod. Shake.

Eric signals me, so I leap onto the stage and take my seat.
My foot taps as I wait for Ronnie to reappear. As Eric starts the count-down,
she slips into her seat.

“Whew, that was close.” She smoothes her dress and
straightens her shoulders.

I direct my attention to the camera.

“And we’re back.” I look to Ronnie. “So, Ronnie, you were
changing the format on us. But that’s all right. It’s a valid point. Women
should know what to steer clear of as well as what to be attracted to.”

Let’s see what I can do to salvage this conversation.

She nods slightly, her expression serious. “Actually, the
negative traits might be even
more
important to discuss than the
positives.”

The vice grip on my lungs cranks tighter. “Please…enlighten
us.”

I swallow hard when she narrows her eyes ever so slightly and
her mouth hardens the smallest amount.

Then she draws in a deep breath and turns toward the
audience.

“Well, there are the obvious ones. The man of your dreams
should be in the market for a long-term relationship, the same as you. No sense
in wasting your precious time on a guy who wants to hit it and quit it.”

Again, the audience applauds. It’s like she just speared me
with her stare. I flip through my useless note cards. “Well, a woman should
also keep in mind that some men may start out like that, but people change.”

Ronnie huffs and crosses her arms as her eyebrows draw
together. She pushes her chair around so it faces the audience. “Can I speak
candidly, Jack?”

I cough. I am so going to regret this, but I can’t exactly
tell her
no
while we’re live. “Of course.”

Her eyes meet mine over her shoulder. “Ladies, the fact is,
you should never fall for a guy whose depth can be measured by the length of
his cock.”

Eric throws his hands in the air.

Ronnie must’ve seen him, because she leans closer and asks, “Oh,
can I say
cock
on television?”

We’ll get a big, fat fine for that one. “You just did.
Twice.”

Eric’s eyes go wide. He face-palms.

I should have insisted that we tape this segment. What the
fuck was I thinking?

“All right, so all in all, the advice is to be careful who
you set your sights on, ladies. Now let’s move on to those positive traits.”

She holds up a finger. “Wait. I have one more that we really
need to discuss.”

Ronnie stands and turns her chair to face me again.

I rub the back of my neck. I wonder if anyone will notice if
I get up and leave.

I inhale deeply. “Okay, but let’s talk about at least one
positive trait.”

Ronnie tilts her head. “This ought to be good coming from
you, a self-proclaimed
confirmed
bachelor.”

I grab the book, pointing to it. “Chapter fourteen.
Protectiveness. A man should be willing to stand between his woman and danger.
Right?”

Ha. I fit that one at the very least. Dispute that, Peaches.

I lean back, twirling my pen.

Ronnie narrows her eyes and grins. “But the woman should
make sure that the protection isn’t a ploy to get her between the sheets.”

The pen snaps in two.

“Okay. Let’s talk a bit about what men should expect from
the woman they choose.”

She gasps. “We aren’t talking about what
men
should
look for.”

I lean toward her. “Well, maybe we should. For instance, honesty.
You say in your book that men want honesty…so a man should be able to trust
that if there’s some monumentally important news, the woman he loves will tell
him at the
first
opportunity.”

My heart pounds. Heat rushes through me as a wave of red-hot
anger blisters the inside of my skull.

How
dare
he? Question my honesty? Seriously?

Jackson’s eyebrows rise in question.

Jackass.

He takes a look at his cue cards. “Well, Ms. Fitz? Don’t you
think honesty is important from
both
partners?”

I stand. Palms flat on his desk, I lean forward. Nausea
rolls through me.

“Let me tell you what I think about
your
honesty—” My
stomach roils and squeezes. I pull in a deep breath. “You are a lying,
conniving, career destroying—”

Acid heat pushes up from the back of my throat. Oh, good
Lord, not now. My stomach convulses, and every last shred of my dignity lands
with a splash on Jackson’s desk.