Calling All the Shots

“Ah, you’re just saying that … aren’t you?” There was a hint of something fragile in her voice.

Jack felt as if Willow was still running away from him, and he knew no matter what gestures he made to bring her closer, he was treading on thin ice. He could literally navigate his way on thin ice—he’d been to the South Pole with explorer and entrepreneur Jefferson Haldon eighteen months ago—but this was different.

And personal relationships had always been harder for him. Give him a physical obstacle and tell him it was impossible and he’d find a way to conquer it. But give him a woman and tell him that she was impossible and he was stymied. It was frustrating to think he’d come such a long way from Frisco, Texas, and still hadn’t figured women out.

This woman. Frankly, she was the only one he really wanted to unravel and strip bare. But every time he thought he had a handle on her she did something unexpected … like the squeaky voice thing. What did it mean?

Why was this making her vulnerable? He was the one putting himself on the line … or was he the only one?

“Willow, I’m being honest. There is something about you that intrigues me. Even when you’re giving me the cold shoulder.”

“I’d put that down to ego,” she said.

“Me, too,” he admitted. “I’m not used to being ignored.”

“Then you don’t know for sure that you like me,” she said.

He crossed his arms over his chest, wondering if honesty was the key to this woman. Honesty was tricky because the truth wasn’t always as nice and pretty as people wanted it to be. “Want to know a secret?”

“Sure,” she said.

But there was a guarded look in her eyes, as if she was expecting him to say something … hurtful? He couldn’t read it. Never had been able to. The flashes he had of her from high school were just those big eyes of hers and that guarded expression on her face.

“I’m not sure if I like myself.”

Dammit, where had those words come from? He had meant to feed her some line about how she couldn’t expect him to like her if she kept him from truly knowing her. What he couldn’t tell her is that he’d lost the ability to care about anything but a challenge a long time ago.

“I didn’t expect you to be that honest,” she said. “What’s not to like about you? You’re charming—”

“I didn’t think you’d noticed,” he said, flashing her a calculated grin because he needed to get them back on familiar footing instead of staying here where he felt so damned vulnerable.

“It’s hard not to when you are wooing everyone in sight.”

“That’s my job. I can’t be successful if no one wants to talk to me. I’m the host.”

“You’re right about that,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “So it’s just for show?”

He shrugged. “I genuinely like talking to people and hearing their stories. They fascinate me.”

That hadn’t always been the case. There had been a time in his life when he’d been so focused on himself he didn’t know others even existed. But his accident and hitting rock bottom had changed that. He’d needed people and had been amazed at how many had reached out to help him.

“Me, too. As long as they are moving toward helping me finish whatever I’m working on,” Willow said. She was driven, and he could respect that.

“Is work all you ever think about?” he asked. She had always struck him as a workaholic. Then again, he only saw her in the context of the set, so he thought he might have it wrong. Now he wasn’t so sure.

She shook her head, but then grimaced. “It is. Even when I’m out with my friends I’m always thinking of my next project. But you know how it is in our business. If you take a break for a second someone will pass you by and that’s it. No one remembers your name.”

“You can take a small break. How about when I get back to the East Coast you play hooky for one day?” he suggested. He needed to have her to himself so he could see if she was worth all the crazy she brought to his life.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I want to give you something you can’t give yourself.” He wanted to get her to notice him, and charm and expensive gifts weren’t the key to Willow. He could see that now.

“I don’t know that I want that kind of gift,” she said.

“Too bad. That’s what I’m claiming as my favor.”

“Uh, you already had your favor and it was a smokin’-hot kiss.”

“Dang, that’s right. Okay, fine, we’ll wait until after our date or better yet, I’ll make our date a no-talking-about-work one.”

“If that’s what you want,” she said, nibbling her lower lip.

“I really should be going,” she said.

But she made no move toward the door. She seemed as reluctant as he was to see this night end. “We didn’t get to really enjoy our coffee since we had that little work crisis to attend to … want another cup?”

She shook her head. “Thank you, but no. I can’t or I’ll be up all night.”

“How about seeing where that kiss could lead?” he asked.

“I want to say yes. I think that’s why I’m still here. But I don’t get why I’m attracted to you,” she said. “It would have been so much nicer if your kiss tasted gross.”

That startled a laugh out of him and he shook his head. “You really are one of a kind. Sorry for not being gross.”

She gave him a really tender half smile that let him see how vulnerable she could be. And it was odd to see that expression on her face because she was always in charge. Always so in control of herself and her surroundings, but now he had a glimpse of a different side of her.

“It just makes everything so much more complicated.”

“Surely you’ve had that happen before,” he said. He couldn’t believe she’d get to thirty and not have found a man she could like kissing. “Dating is never as simple as we want it to be.”

“I don’t really date,” she admitted. “As you noted earlier I’m pretty much always all about work.”

“No man asks you out?”

“They do but I’m busy and no one has intrigued me enough—”

“Enough? Enough to what?”

She tipped her head to the side, studying him with that clear cool gaze of hers. “To risk getting hurt.”

“Not every relationship equals hurt,” he said.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” she said, turning on her heel and heading toward the door.

“Who hurt you?” he asked. “Was it a lover or your father?”

She glanced back over her shoulder. “It doesn’t really matter. At least not now.”

Willow was surprised by how intuitive Jack was and she didn’t necessarily like it. A fun bet with Nic was one thing; actually letting Jack past her defenses was something else. She’d meant it when she’d said she wished he wasn’t a good kisser. She didn’t want to like him.

She understood why Nichole had wanted her to come on this date. But Willow hadn’t realized how much she had hidden away from her past until now. The emotions she’d thought she’d forgotten were all there stirring inside of her and making her say and do things that her common sense said not to.

“I think it does matter,” he said. “I don’t want to fight a ghost of a man. Tell me the details so I know what I’m up against.”

No way. She didn’t want to get all deep and Greek tragedy on him. She always thought of her epic quest for vengeance as some sort of ancient tale. It made it easier to wait for opportunities to strike back at Jack. Vengeance wasn’t an instant gratification process.

“This was our first date,” she said. “You are supposed to be thinking about asking me out on a second date, not about the other men I’ve dated.”

“I am thinking about that, Wills, but I know that you’re not going to fall for a man you can’t trust. And so far all I’ve done to impress you is not kiss gross.”

“The not being gross thing counts for a lot more than you think it does,” she said, trying to move the conversation back into safer waters without letting him see how desperately she wanted to stop talking about this.

“Trust me, I’m flattered. But one of the things I’m seeing about you is that it takes more than a kiss to woo you.”

“Why woo me? Can’t you just do whatever it is you usually do?” she asked.

“No way. That’s the surefire way to have you for just one night,” he said.

That had to be a line.

“You want more than that?” she asked. “You don’t even know me.”

“Agreed. But I want to know you. Every time I’m with you I want to stay in your presence as long as I can. I know it’s not cool to admit but I’m obsessed with you.”

“Obsessed with me? As soon as you figure out why you’ll move on,” she said.

He shrugged. “I don’t think so. That’s why I need to know more about you.”

She doubted that knowledge would help. But the fact that he admitted to being enamored with her was a mark in her favor. She wanted revenge and she saw that it could be very easily had if she played her cards right. Except that she was conflicted. She liked Jack.

He had a self-effacing side—something that she’d take over ego and arrogance any day. He was funny and charming and then there were his kisses, which had almost made her want to drag him to the floor and have her way with him.

“I guess next Saturday will be a big date for us, then,” she said.

“Unless you want to stay here now and talk all night,” he said. “I’m flying to L.A. in the morning so I don’t mind.”

“Really? Don’t you need sleep like the rest of us?”

“I do,” he said, “but for you, I’d give it up.”

She had to work tomorrow but she was honest enough to admit to herself that she probably wouldn’t get much sleep tonight for thinking about him. But staying here had mistake written all over it and she was done making mistakes with Jack Crown … really, she was.

“I can’t. I’m not ready to be that intense with you, Jack. I’m still not sure you aren’t playing some kind of game with me.”

He looked hurt for a nanosecond and then covered it with a shrug. “I’m not really a player.”

“Maybe not, but I don’t know you well enough yet. Thanks again for helping out with Deidre, though.”

“No problem. I like being able to help.”

“I can see that,” she said.

She reached for the doorknob and then glanced back over her shoulder to say goodbye. There was a wistful look on Jack’s face. She realized then that Nichole might have known that Jack seemed to genuinely care about her. Willow didn’t understand him herself. How could someone who’d treated her so callously in high school have grown into this man?

“Night,” he said, lifting one hand to wave goodbye to her.

“Night,” she said, walking out into the hallway and closing the door. She leaned back against it and took a deep breath. She really didn’t know what had happened but her heart was racing and she regretted leaving him.

She wasn’t being careful with her own emotions. Why was it that Jack Crown seemed to know the things to do and say to make her feel this way? Why couldn’t she meet another man who had this kind of power over her?

Why him?

She pushed away from the door and walked down the hallway before realizing she’d forgotten her coat. Dammit, if it weren’t so cold she’d just leave it. But it had been snowing when she’d arrived. She turned back and knocked on his door.

He opened it and held out her coat. She saw that he’d put his own on and had his keys in his hands. He had a scarf draped around his neck.

“I was coming after you,” he said. The light from the hallway shone down on his hair and brought out the angles of his face. He was truly a very beautiful man and a part of her was angry at him just for being so damned attractive to her. Life would be much easier if he weren’t. “You’re going to need this.”

She nodded and reached out for her coat but he held it up for her.

“Turn around,” he said. “I’ll help you.”

She did as he asked, sliding her arms into her coat. It had been a long time since anyone had helped her with her coat and the little gesture touched her. Made her remember the other caring things he’d done tonight.

If he was playing her … He had to be playing her, didn’t he?

He lifted her hair from the back of her neck where it had gotten trapped between her body and her coat.

“Damn,” he said under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just that I had a bet with myself that your hair wouldn’t be as soft as it looks.”

“And?”

“It’s softer,” he said.

He dropped her hair and then turned and went back into his apartment. All she could do was stand there feeling more confused and alone than she had in a long, long time.

Four

Peter Mullen was whipcord lean and had a grin that made you want to smile back at him. He wasn’t overly tall but then he was a race car driver. And the cockpits of those things weren’t made for giants.

“Do you know what Deirdre just said to me?” Kat said, coming up next to Willow where they’d set up their shot for the day. They were indoors at a charity event for the Children’s Diabetes Foundation. Peter was a major sponsor.

“What?”

“She said, ‘I still don’t get racing. I mean, they just drive around the track. What’s the point?’”

“What did you say to her?”

“That I grew up in the South. You know all we have down there is racing … go-carts, dirt bikes, you name it, guys race it,” she said with a grin.

Willow had to laugh at Kat. The woman was five years younger than her but they had the same sensibility. It was one of the reasons why Willow had hired her. She’d been grooming Kat—well, mentoring her would be a better way of putting it.

“You’re kidding me,” Willow said. It seemed as though Deidre was determined to not make the match with Peter work. A part of Willow wondered why she’d even gone to a matchmaker but she knew the other woman must have had a good reason.

“Do you think I should go and explain it to her?” Willow asked. She wasn’t too sure she could explain racing, having not really watched it herself.

“No. I already gave her an iPad loaded with the information. Told her if Peter could read all her columns the least she could do was understand what he did for a living,” Kat said.

Uh-oh. Kat had a way of shooting from the hip sometimes. “Did you say it like that?”

“What, am I stupid?” Kat said. “Of course not. But I wanted to. Why did she even go to a matchmaker?”

“I don’t know. I’ll go talk to her,” Willow said. She understood being reluctant—after all, everybody had their share of battle scars when it came to relationships and love. But Deidre had sought this out.

“Fine by me. I’ll go talk to Peter,” Kat said.

Willow had the feeling that Kat liked Peter more than just as a friend. Every time they were together on set Kat was over there batting her eyelashes and flirting with him. “He’s spoken for.”

“I know that,” the other woman said.

“Just make sure you remember it,” Willow said before walking away. She had a radio on her belt and an earpiece in her ear so she could hear whatever a craft or services person needed from her as they prepared to shoot the episode.

Peter and Deidre were the last couple featured in this first season of Sexy & Single. Willow just wanted them to make a spectacular ending to her show so that advertisers would come back and viewers would keep tuning in.

She walked into the large bathroom that they had commandeered as a dressing room/greenroom for the day. Deidre was sitting in front of a bank of mirrors alone. She seemed small and like someone who didn’t know everything in that moment. Willow cleared her throat and as instantaneously as a switch being thrown, Deidre changed.

Suddenly she looked like Ms. D, the advice columnist famous for her tough love approach to problems. But Willow had seen the woman behind the curtain and for the first time since Deidre had come on the show, Willow felt a bit of sympathy toward her.

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