CHAPTER THIRTEEN
JORDAN
It was the perfect plan. The type of plan that would solidify the promotion. I’d been so terrified of being in the public eye that I’d forgotten what it could actually do to help Reid. If I controlled what the media saw and was able to time everything myself, then I wouldn’t be as stressed. It was so perfect that I was irritated with myself that I hadn’t come up with it sooner. Give the people what they want, just like Max said. And what did they want?
What I told them they wanted, that’s what!
Women want an actor they can identify with. They want the next Channing Tatum, the next Ryan Reynolds. The hot guy who loves his wife or significant other, has gorgeous babies, smiles all the time, and is both sexual and sexy. Never over-the-top, always willing to party with Jimmy Fallon, and so thankful they’re in blockbuster movies that they feel the need to blurt said thankfulness on social media on a daily basis. They’re kind, selfless, buy groceries, and never party on the weekend.
I was creating the perfect actor.
I had no idea if Reid was any of those things. Was he nice? Yes, he saved me from homelessness.
Did he love his family? Of course! One could even say he loves others’ families too! Grandma, anyone? Ha!
Was he dedicated to his career? How could he not be? Since he took in his poor shrewlike publicist and was teaching her the art of seduction?
My fingers flew across the keyboard as I put together his press release, including all the information about how breakout star Reid Emory was going above and beyond the role of a lifetime and truly dedicating both his mind and heart to his craft. He wasn’t just taming the shrew—he was going to be taking her, or me, with him to all public events.
I threw in a few key details about the movie as well as some of the reviews his show had gotten on Broadway. It was about piquing people’s interest, making them want to interview him. What makes Reid Emory tick? And why was it imperative the public not only see him for who he really was, but adore him?
I was brilliant.
And the best part? I wasn’t asking him to be anything he wasn’t already! Did I feel slightly guilty that he’d be forced to act like someone he wasn’t in some situations? No. That would be like feeling guilty for putting on makeup every day. I have eyes, you just can’t see them very well without eyeliner. Does that mean that my eyes don’t exist? No, it just means they exist better with my black Nars pencil!
I giggled out loud and took another sip of coffee.
“I recognize that laugh well!” Max yelled from the other apartment.
“Don’t you work?”
He coughed twice. “Doctor’s appointment?”
“Right, and I’m naked.”
He was quiet. And then: “Does Reid know?”
I took a soothing deep breath and licked my lips. “Look, if you have something to say, just come over and say it rather than yelling through these paper-thin walls.”
He didn’t answer.
Which led me to assume he was done bothering me.
I learned very quickly one should never assume where Max was concerned. The door to the apartment opened and Max waltzed through holding two Starbucks cups.
It was like he knew my thoughts.
My eyes narrowed. “How’d you know?”
He handed me a cup and shrugged his muscled shoulders. The man wore a suit well, and I was pretty sure he was aware of it. “I’m Max.”
“Right.” I took the cup and sniffed. “Caramel macchiato?”
He gave a firm nod and sat next to me. “Typical default Starbucks drink, because who doesn’t like them? Also, a test. If you hate them, we can’t be friends anymore.”
“I wasn’t aware we were friends to begin with.”
“I’ve always made friends easily.” He leaned back on the couch, his eyes gazing out the window. “It’s Reid I worry about. Like a mother hen.”
“Mm-kay.” I stood. “Well, your concern is noted. So if there’s nothing else, why don’t you just . . .” I made a scoot motion with my hands.
“You’re pretty.” Max licked his full lips. “I’ll give you that much. At least when you have a rope tying that hair together, or a metal clamp.”
“Also known as a rubber band.”
“Ah, made of steel, is it?” He took a long gulp of coffee. “I know what’s going to happen here. I’ve read the book a billion times, mainly because I wrote it.”
“You wrote a book?”
“It’s for sale on my website, MaximusHightower4Prez.com.”
I burst out laughing.
He didn’t.
Taking another drink, I finally sat back down and waited. I figured it was best to let him get whatever he needed off his chest and just go with it.
“So what’s going to happen, Max?”
“You’ll slowly fall for each other. Something will rip you apart, maybe a misunderstanding, a possible blast from the past from an ex-lover? Who knows? You’ll argue in the elevator. Share a heated kiss. Slam doors. But wait!” He thrust his hand into the air. “You live together and you could just swear,” he said, shaking his head, “that each time he breathes, nay, each time he moves in his bed, it’s because he misses you beside him. So you pop out from underneath your covers, because of course you’re curious . . .” He set his cup on the coffee table and leaned forward. “He opens his eyes the minute you walk in. The air is thick with tension.”
I gulped as my erratic pulse picked up.
“He checks you out like you’re the only woman in the world, and you return the favor, eyeing his sexy six-pack, his built chest, and then your eyes home in on his lips, those perfect, full lips.” Max leaned forward, his cologne floating off him, hitting me square in the face. “You want him. Badly. And you know he wants you too. You don’t know who moves first. You? Him? Does it matter?”
I shivered.
“Mouth hot and urgent, desperate to take you to places you’ve never been. He moans, you deepen the kiss as his fingers dig into your hips, the primal need he has for you awakens. And. You. Just. Can’t”—his voice was a hoarse whisper—“stop.”
My palms flinched with the sudden need to touch Reid.
Max’s grin was shameless. “Oh, I know the story, Jordan. The sex won’t just be average. It will blow every fantasy you’ve ever had out of the water. And then . . .” He sighed. “Just when things are getting good. It breaks. Good things always break, and it’s always up to the two people in a relationship to fix it, to make it work, but you’ll have nothing to fall back on. No friendship, nothing. So when it breaks for you two, it shatters. You’ll fight. Say things you don’t mean. And then you’ll leave in tears. He’ll be lonely. Famous, but lonely. And you’ll swear to yourself never to trust a man again.” He finished his coffee and clasped his hands together. “Now. What are you going to do about it?”
“Huh?” I felt dazed. Owned. And somehow manipulated, like I was at a fair and Max was the hypnotist telling me I was a chicken.
“Aw.” He patted my hand. “Good talk. I just wanted to make sure you understood how this would end. I feel it’s my job to emotionally prepare you for the road ahead. Fall you will.” He shrugged. “How could you not? Swear your hair’s probably already picking wedding colors.”
I slapped his hand away as he tried to grab a bit of my curly mess. “I’m his publicist. Not his girlfriend. And this isn’t a romance novel, which by the way is pretty much what you just described. This is real life. Things like that don’t happen in real life. Believe me, I know.”
“What will I get?”
“Max, would it kill you to ask direct questions?”
He tapped his chin. “Yes.”
I growled.
“When I’m right.” He picked up his empty cup and stood. “When you come over to my apartment sobbing like a Taylor Swift concert attendee. I’ll tell you what—I won’t get anything for being right, but I will let you sleep on the couch. When it all goes south.”
I snorted. “You’re just trying to convince me to back off so that you can have sex with your fiancée again. I won’t fall for it.”
“Okay.” Max pulled me in for a jerky hug. “But remember our chat. Oh, and you spilled coffee on your white shirt. That one of your things?”
“Crap!” I stomped my heel.
He held up his hands. “Cold water, not hot.”
“Go home!”
“Pfft.” Max winked. “I have work this afternoon; this world doesn’t run itself.”
Just let it run Max-less. Amen.
“Toodles.” He waved and slammed the door behind him while I was left feeling a bit turned on by the thought of me and Reid kissing in his bedroom. Ugh!
“Max!” I seethed. He was just trying to get into my head. That’s what people like him did. For crying out loud, he set his own brother up to be a laughingstock!
This was my job.
I worked with attractive actors on a daily basis.
Working with another one?
Not going to be a problem.
I used cold water on the stain, threw on a white blazer, and shoved my black sunglasses on my face. Making sure I had the apartment key and my red purse, I confidently pressed the elevator button and waited.
And I’m happy to announce I didn’t once think about the elevator fight.
Or the kiss.
Or the moment in the bedroom.
Or the way Reid’s hands would feel on my hips.
Nope. Not once.
But twice.
“Damn, Max,” I cursed, walking out into the New York sun.
I quickly sent a text to Reid.
Me: Your brother is certifiably insane. Has he been locked up before?
Reid: Arkham Asylum wouldn’t take him.
Me: This saddens me.
Reid: Just don’t ask him anything related to the Joker. You’ll get a hell of a long answer.
Me: I’m stopping by in a few minutes. Be ready to wow me, lover boy, this shit’s going public.
Reid: I like it when you say shit and lover boy in the same sentence. Do it again.
Me: Shitty lover boy.
Reid: I stepped into that one HA ^^^ See what I did there? Genius.
I fought a smile and rolled my eyes.
Me: Just do what you normally do when seducing the poor soulless women of Manhattan and we’ll be just fine. Also, I’m scheduling a date for us tonight. There will be cameras. So make sure the charm is on.
Reid: It’s never off.
Me: Arrogance part of your charm?
Reid: Yes. GTG, break over.
Me: Later, lover.
Reid: Later, Sebastian.
I burst out laughing as I collided with someone else.
“Watch out!” the man yelled.
I held up my phone and mouthed sorry before making my way down the street. Reid and Max didn’t just live in one of the most expensive parts of Manhattan—they lived in THE most expensive part, where it wouldn’t be weird to see a Hollywood celebrity walking a small dog.
I would hate them both if I wasn’t so thankful that I actually had a roof over my head that wasn’t made up of neon lights and smelled like Chinese takeout.
The day felt like a fresh start. I was stain-free thanks to Max. My white-on-white top with leather leggings was chic and very early fall thanks to my shopping addiction.
And I was about to make Reid Emory the most sought-after actor on the planet.
What could possibly go wrong?