Calling All the Shots

“Maybe because you’re a challenge,” he said.

It was the answer she was expecting but disappointing all the same. “So it’s just a game to you then?”

“Not a game. Life is too short to not go after what you want. I like you. You can be funny on the set and I see the way you really connect with the couples and with your friends and crew. I want to be a part of that.”

She didn’t know what he meant. Sure she made the time to listen to people but only because she’d learned that if she didn’t then the results they got when filming weren’t that great. “That’s just the way I work.”

“It’s more than that. I saw you holding Bella McCaw when Fiona needed someone to take care of her. And there was a look on your face….”

Fiona was a fashion designer and single mom who’d come on the show with her darling daughter, Bella Ann. She’d been matched to Alex Cannon, a games developer. They were an interesting couple who were now happily engaged.

“What look?” she asked. She always liked to believe she had a poker face that didn’t reveal what she was thinking. Wasn’t that true?

He shrugged. “It just got me to thinking that I wanted to get to know you better.”

“Are you looking to settle down with me?” she asked. If he said yes, it would really give her the ammunition she needed to bring him to his knees. But on the other hand … he wasn’t the boy she knew in high school. Maybe he didn’t deserve her vengeance.

“No,” he said. “Just want to get to know you better. For a few moments I want to be like every other man in America who has an attractive coworker and invites her out for dinner.”

“You’re never going to be like every other man in America. You know that, right?” How could he look at his life and think he could be like everyone else? He’d won a Heisman Trophy. They only gave out one a year, so that put him in an elite sportsman category. He’d been named Associated Press Athlete of the Year and played professional football before going on to be the host of some of the most popular shows on TV. He was never going to be an average Joe.

“Yes, I do, but with you I feel like I am. All the trappings of the celebrity lifestyle aren’t important to you,” he said.

“That’s true. I’ve seen the other side of celebrity,” she said.

“Me, too. We are uniquely suited for each other,” he said, waggling his eyebrows and smiling over at her.

“I don’t know.” She did know. If she played this right she could get him thinking that maybe he could have something with her. Then she’d walk away.

“Come on, how many people do you meet in this business from Frisco, Texas?” he said with that half smile of his that reminded her a little too much of the boy who’d first stolen her heart.

She put down her fork and took a sip of her wine. Revenge, she thought. She had to stay focused on what she really wanted or she was going to lose her way.

He reached over and touched her hand. A little zing shot up her arm. His touch unnerved her as much now as it had when he’d hugged her earlier. He ran his finger over her knuckles and then turned her hand over in his and traced the lines on her palm.

“I’m only asking for a chance here,” he said.

A chance. To do what? He’d said he wanted a regular relationship but had never had a chance to have that because of his celebrity.

And she wanted what Nichole had suggested. A chance to find some happiness for herself down the line. So she had to do something with Jack. Had to find a way to make peace with her past so she could trust again. And she knew now that unless he was hiding cloven hooves and the devil’s tail she wasn’t going to be able to be as coldly calculating as she’d thought she could be. She’d thought that focusing on getting back at him would be enough to protect her but maybe it wasn’t.

“A chance, eh? Just dating?” she asked. She didn’t want to admit it—even to herself—but the thought of walking away from him was beginning to fade.

“Yes, dating. It’s not going to be easy since I have to fly back and forth between the coasts all the time but I do want a chance to get to know you better. A chance to prove that there is more to me than Prince Charming.”

“I’ve never called you Prince Charming,” she said.

“Everyone knows I am,” he said with that stupid arrogant grin of his. “Let’s face it, you even said I was charming.”

Suddenly she thought it might not be too hard to hurt him if he was going to act like this. Was this the real Jack Crown? She had no idea, and she never would unless she took a chance on him.

“Fine, we can date,” she said. But as she looked into those very blue eyes of his, she couldn’t help a niggling sensation that this was a bad idea. She was susceptible to Jack. She always had been. And she knew how easy it was to fall for him.

Wanting revenge was one thing, but messing up her life at work—the one place where she was truly at home and happy—didn’t seem smart. If she was going to fool around with Jack and walk away, she had to be careful how she timed it and that she never let it interfere with work.

“Golly gee, Willow, don’t sound so excited about it,” he said.

She nodded over at him. “I’m sorry. I’d be happy to go on dates with you when the time allows.”

“That’s all I ask,” he said, tracing a random pattern on her palm before closing his fingers over it.

She knew he wanted something more from her and only if she kept her wits about her would she be able to protect herself from being hurt once again by Jack Crown.

Jack felt like he was playing a part for Willow. If he had a hope in hell of making this real, he had to stop. The problem was he no longer knew who he was. It had been his problem for a while now and while it was easy to admit to himself that he was coasting through life, it was hard to figure out how to change.

Willow was the key, he thought. Watching her on the set of Sexy & Single had been the catalyst. He did want something more from her. He wanted to feel like he was alive again. He was tired from working all the time and taking silly risks on Extreme Careers to make himself remember he was alive.

They had finished dinner and he’d cleared the table with Willow’s help. He liked having her in the kitchen because it strongly reminded him of happy days from his youth. Not one of the women he’d dated in the past year had come into his kitchen when he’d had them over for dinner.

Another thing that had set Willow apart was that she hadn’t pulled out her smartphone one time during their meal. Despite her initial reluctance to join him for dinner, she hadn’t been distracted by the outside world once she did.

He put the last of the dishes on the counter and turned, leaning back against it to watch her. She glanced over at him and he could see he’d startled her.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.

He felt like he had to constantly be on his guard around her. She didn’t just relax and let herself enjoy the night. She was waiting for something to happen. Something he was supposed to do, he suspected, but he had no idea what it was.

“I’m trying to figure out why you were so jumpy when I hugged you,” he said.

She shrugged. “I … I just was. No need to dig deeper.”

It was almost too easy to find out what made her tick. She gave away things he knew she didn’t mean to with her defensive attitude. She was cool and casual when he was talking about things like work but anything the slightest bit personal and she got her back up.

“There is always a reason to dig deeper with you. You are hiding so much of the real Willow beneath a facade of calmness. You never show more than a hint of what’s going on below the surface.”

“That’s because in our business only divas can get away with throwing a temper tantrum,” she said, then arched her eyebrow at him. “Isn’t that right?”

“Are you trying to say I’m a diva?”

“Not trying—I did. I wasn’t the only one who heard the dressing-down you gave Kat last week when you didn’t have an exotic fruit basket in your dressing room.”

He almost flushed at the way she said it. “I was jet-lagged and I apologized later.”

“I know. Kat’s used to dealing with those types of situations so it didn’t even faze her.”

“Some days it’s harder than others,” he said. He wasn’t proud of the way he’d behaved. It was difficult sometimes—when everyone wanted a piece of you—to remember he wasn’t entitled to any of the fame he’d gotten. He tried to remind himself that his mom would have tanned his hide if she’d been alive to witness his ogreish behavior.

“What is? Being America’s second most popular TV host?” she asked.

“You’re being flip, but my management people and network bosses look at my Q rating every day. There is a lot of pressure to stay on top,” he said. “Plus every time I step outside someone wants an autograph or to talk about my latest exploits … and I’m not complaining. I know without those people I’d be just another washed-up ball player. Still, as I said, some days it’s harder than others.”

She tipped her head to the side and studied him. “I know. That’s why so many people in our business are so messed up. I bet you never thought you’d have these types of problems.”

“Definitely not. I figured I’d play football until I was thirty and then retire with my trophy wife to a large ranch in Texas Hill Country, teaching my boys how to play,” he said with a sardonic laugh. “This definitely wasn’t part of my plans.”

“Trophy wife? Why are you trying to date me then?” she asked, crossing her arms under her breasts and giving him the same hard look she gave the cameramen when they didn’t get a shot she wanted.

“I said that was my original idea of what my life would be. Things changed—I’m over thirty now,” he said. Willow sort of did fit his idea of a trophy wife, though—she was sexy as hell, successful in her own right and she knew how to make things happen.

“Yes, you are, old man.”

He liked it when she teased him. It was as if she forgot who he was outside of this apartment and she let herself relax.

“I’m not that ancient.”

“Nope, but you’ll always be older than me,” she said with a smile. Her phone twittered in her pocket and she gave him a wry smile. “I’ve got to check that. It keeps going off, which makes me think it might be urgent.”

“Go ahead,” he said. “Would you like coffee or maybe an after dinner drink?”

“Coffee would be great,” she said.

“You can go into the living room,” he said. “I’ll bring it in.”

She nodded distractedly as she pulled her phone from her pocket and read the message she’d received. He noticed that she chewed on her lower lip and her brow furrowed as she read.

He watched as she settled herself on the overstuffed leather sofa he’d ordered from Italy last year before turning to make them both a cup of coffee. He carried the cups over and placed them on the coffee table, then sat down next to her on the couch. She was still tapping out a message on her phone.

The scent of her perfume was light and floral and reminded him of spring. He stretched his arm along the back of the couch and felt the cool fall of her straight hair against his hand. He wanted to reach out and touch it, to bury his fingers in her hair, but he didn’t want to distract her. He liked being able to sit here and just watch her.

She sighed and then put her phone on the table. “Deidre is getting cold feet. She doesn’t think that Peter is right for her and has asked for another match,” Willow said.

“Can she do that?” he asked.

“I guess so. I’ve sent Mona a message to see what she can do,” Willow said.

Mona was the matchmaker at Matchmakers, Inc. who was providing all the couples at the show. Jack was surprised that this couple was having such a hard time since Mona’s instincts had been right for the other three couples that had gone before them.

Deidre Adamson was a very popular advice columnist and television talk show host who rose to fame by turning her brutal honesty on the people who came on her show. Jack liked that kind of straight shooting. She’d been matched with the famous Peter Mullen. He was wild and a bit outrageous.

“Peter must have done something that shook her,” Jack said. “I’ve been chatting with him a bit on the set. Do you want me to see if I can step in and fix this?”

Willow just stared at him for a minute. This was her headache and she was used to fixing problems on her own. “How could you help?”

“I actually know Deidre,” he said. “And I’ve had a couple of chats with Peter. My guess is that Peter said or did something that scared her.”

“Like what?” Willow asked. She was a little embarrassed to admit that she didn’t think that Jack was sensitive enough to notice anyone else, much less be aware that they had nuances.

“Well, Deidre talks tough on her show but in real life she’s very sensitive. I’m betting Peter thinks she’s tougher than she is and probably pushed her too fast.”

“You think?” Willow asked. “Deidre seems very much in control and bossy to me. I was guessing she told Peter to do something and he didn’t do it.”

“Might be. They both like to be in charge,” Jack said. “If she gets a new man, would we have to start all over again with them?”

“Yes. It would mean three weeks of wasted filming,” Willow said. “Do you know Deidre well enough to call her up and chat with her?”

“Yes, I do.”

“How do you know her? She doesn’t move in the Hollywood circles you do,” Willow said.

“She was my therapist after my accident. She was the one who helped steer me toward broadcasting.”

Willow hadn’t thought about how he’d transitioned to his current career. She’d just thought … well, that he was the golden boy so things worked out for him. She’d been a little jealous of how easy his life looked from her point of view but she was getting glimpses of him that made her realize Jack’s life wasn’t as effortless as it seemed.

“I’d love it if you would call and talk to her. Can you do it now? I’ll text Mona and tell her to wait before she talks to Deidre.”

“Yes, I can do it, but only if you promise you’ll do me a favor in return,” he said.

“Okay,” she said.

“Don’t you want to know what I want?”

“Nope. I need her to stay matched to Peter so I don’t have to throw out three weeks worth of work.”

Jack lifted one eyebrow at her. “Whatever I ask for you’ll do?”

She would probably regret this. “Yes, a favor of your choosing.”

“Good. Drink your coffee while I save the day,” he said before going upstairs.

She stood up and walked around his apartment. She was surprised that his walls weren’t lined with photos of himself and celebrities. He gave the impression that he’d have lots of those but there weren’t any on display. Instead there was a painting by the celebrated Texan Charles Beckendorf. The craggy valleys of the Texas canyons provided a backdrop for a longhorn steer that stared out at the viewer.

She had one of his paintings hanging in her brownstone in Brooklyn. As soon as she’d started making real money she had decided to invest in art and had begun by supporting artists from her home state. She had also endowed a scholarship for girls from her high school.

She moved past the painting, feeling a little homesick for Texas after viewing it. Next was a picture she recognized from their high school yearbook. It was their state champion football team. She didn’t have to search to find Jack in the photo since she knew exactly where he was—in the second row, center. His smile was wider than the Texas sky. Coach Masters stood in the middle of the group and all of the starters crowded around him.

“I’ve never been as happy as I was in that moment,” Jack said, coming up behind her. He reached around her to run his finger over the trophy in the picture. “I thought that my life was set.”

She glanced over at him. That photo had been earth-shattering for her as well. Seeing it had made her think, This is it; I’m going to figure out how to hurt him like he hurt me. But hearing Jack talk about it with a tinge of wistfulness in his voice, she realized that even back then his life hadn’t been as perfect as she’d thought.

“What did Deidre say?” she asked. For Willow when life got too uncomfortable she turned to work. And thank God that she and Jack had a job in common.

He rubbed the back of his neck and then smiled at her. “She said she’d give him another chance. I think one of us, maybe you, should pull Peter aside and tell him to slow down just a little bit. He’s going too fast for her.”

“But that’s how I get good TV,” Willow said.

“I know, but if he doesn’t he’ll scare her off, and you don’t want that, do you?”

“No, I don’t,” she said. “It’d be so much easier if we could script things for them. But I know that the viewers wouldn’t enjoy it as much.”

“You’re right. Just think—you couldn’t have scripted that moment when Alex Cannon first held little Bella Ann. That was pure heartwarming television. You could see him melt,” Jack said.

“Yes, you could. And let’s face it, if Gail and Russell, Alex and Fiona, and Rikki and Paul could make it work, so can Deidre and Peter. He must have something that she wants.”

“He must,” Jack said.

Willow glanced at her watch. It was almost nine. She should be going soon. But first she texted Mona to say that the problem had been solved and that there was no need for her to find another match for Deidre right now.

“I guess I should be heading home. We’re shooting early tomorrow,” she said.

“Before you go …” he said.

Damn, she should have known she wasn’t going to get out the door without doing this.

“Yes?”

“You owe me a favor, remember?”

Of course she remembered. She had been so desperate to keep Deidre on the show that she’d acted rashly. Or had she? A part of her realized that she wanted to owe Jack something so that she’d have an excuse to keep on seeing him.

“So what exactly do you want from me?”

“A kiss.”

Three

A kiss.

Really, she shouldn’t be that surprised, and since he asked for it as a favor, she could just enjoy it guilt free. She’d be lying if she didn’t admit that she had once spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about kissing him.

“Okay,” she said, trying hard to sound blasé. But instead her voice did a squeaky thing and she felt as lame as she had in high school when he’d asked her to go to the Dairy Queen for a cone.

He laughed, but it wasn’t unkind, and for the first time since she’d entered his apartment she felt like she was seeing a glimpse of the real man. Because in that laugh was a hint of her own nervousness. And that made him human. She got what he’d been trying to explain earlier—that despite the success and fame he’d found, at heart he was still just a regular guy.

“Are you sure? I don’t want a repeat of when I tried to hug you,” he said.

She nodded, not trusting her own voice. She wanted to kiss him. She’d never gotten a kiss back in high school and though she’d moved past living as that girl she still had an imaginary bucket list that included kissing Jack Crown.

He leaned down toward her and she tipped her head back, not realizing until they were this close how much taller he was than her. She closed her eyes as his hands settled on her shoulders and he drew her in toward him. Though their bodies didn’t touch, she could feel his body heat.

She felt the warmth of his breath over her mouth first. It had the pleasant scent of the coffee he’d drunk after dinner. The brush of his lips over hers was exhilarating; she felt tingles from her lips down her neck and to the very core of her body.

It was a gentle start but not tentative at all. She sensed he was taking care not to scare her off.

His mouth opened slowly on hers and she held her breath, trying to analyze this moment so she could pull it out and examine it later, but thought was impossible as a wave of sensation rolled over her. He tasted perfect, and unlike some of the men she’d kissed in the past, there was no awkward desire to pull back from him.

He feathered his tongue lightly into her mouth as he massaged her shoulders and pulled her closer to him. Then his tongue went deeper into her mouth, until shivers of desire coursed through her body.

She felt like she was falling into a world where there was just Jack. She reached out for something to steady herself. Her hands brushed over his chest. It was strongly muscled and radiated warmth. Even through the fabric of his shirt she could feel it. His hands moved down her back to her waist and drew her in until they were pressed together.

She didn’t want them to fit together the way they did. As if they were meant to hold each other this way. His kiss continued to inflame her senses. She loved the way his fingers felt at the back of her neck as they tangled in her hair.

He lifted his head and sighed. She opened her eyes to look up at him and was surprised by the look on his face. There was desire, of course, but something else. He framed her face with his hands and whispered her name before he kissed her again.

This embrace lacked the restraint of the first time. She couldn’t think as passion swept over her. She went up on tiptoe so she could take more of his kiss. She wanted something more from him.

He caressed her neck and shoulders and then slid his hands down her back to cup her butt, pulling her tightly against him. She gasped at the feel of his erection pressing into her stomach and moisture pooled in her center. She had known she wanted him but this was different. This was white-hot desire and she was desperate to touch more of him.

To have more of him … more of Jack. She slid her hands under his shirt and up his back. His hands tightened on her as his tongue plunged deeper into her mouth. He shifted until he leaned back against the wall and she was supported fully by his weight.

He lifted his head, and she felt cold without his mouth pressed against hers.

“One kiss … I thought it would be enough, but I want more,” he said.

She did, too, but this was Jack. And now that his mouth wasn’t on hers … she pushed away from him and he let her go, his hands trailing over her hips until they fell to his sides.

“That got out of hand,” she said.

“I don’t think so, but I guess you’re not ready for anything more,” he said.

She sensed the frustration behind his words and she felt it, too, but she wasn’t going to rush things with Jack. She still didn’t know how she felt about him, and instead of making matters clearer, this night had only served to muddle them.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t rush into this. I thought you were a shallow me, me, me, guy when I came here tonight,” she admitted.

“And now?”

“I’m not sure,” she said. She wasn’t sure about anything anymore. Revenge was something that she’d craved and giving it up just wasn’t an option, but now she understood the saying about it being a dish best served cold. Because this heat between them melted her resolve.

“That’s why I need some time to think about this,” she said.

He nodded. “Fair enough. You’ll have plenty of time to mull things over because I leave for L.A. after we finish shooting in the morning. I won’t be back in New York for a week.”

She felt a sense of loss at the thought of him leaving and she knew that she had to get her head straight. It was a good thing he was going away because right now she’d have to say she was still stupid where he was concerned. But she’d miss him. And she hadn’t expected to.

“Will you have dinner with me again next Saturday?” he asked. “Not here, but on a proper date where I pick you up and take you out.”

“Yes,” she said and her voice did that squeaky thing again. She shook her head. “Hopefully I’ll be able to speak when you see me next week.”

“I like you just the way you are, Willow.”

She wished she could believe that was true, but he didn’t know her. He hadn’t back in high school and he didn’t now. On the set she treated him the way she did all talent—with a certain indulgence coupled with disdain. But he was talking about liking her. How could he? She wasn’t even sure she liked herself.