Chapter Eleven

LANEY HOVERED OVER her desk, reviewing next month’s fashion layout for Wild Side and trying not to think about how her life was spinning out of control. It had been two days since she’d spoken to Jackson—and two days since she’d told Bryce that she’d come home early but couldn’t see him until the weekend. Bryce hadn’t been thrilled to have to wait to see her, but as always, he’d understood, as she’d used work as her excuse for returning early from her trip and for not having time to see him. She felt as discombobulated as she had when her parents had first separated. Only about a hundred times worse.

She’d hardly slept since returning from the mountains, spending her days trying to distract herself from thinking about either Bryce or Jackson, but nothing worked. She spent far too much time using her nonexistent powers to will her cell phone to ring with a call or vibrate with a text from Jackson. She should just call him. Or go see him. They were both stubborn. No one knew that better than her. It was one of the reasons they got along so well—they understood each other’s quirks, weaknesses, strengths, and soft spots.

He didn’t think he was good enough for her. He didn’t think he could commit. Well, he committed to everything he ever wanted to commit to, so what did that say about them?

She was way too confused to figure any of this out. The day a man proposed was supposed to be the happiest day of a woman’s life. Instead, Bryce’s proposal felt like a death sentence—and that was even more stupid! He was a good man, an honest man. A man she could be happy enough with.

Her cell phone buzzed, and she scrambled to snag it from the corner of her desk.

Her heart skipped at the name on her cell phone screen—Charlize Martin, Zac Posen’s assistant. Clutching the phone tightly, she whispered, “Please, please, please,” then opened and read the text message.

Good news! Mr. Posen has agreed to the interview. Pls call to schedule.

“Yes!” Her chest swelled with excitement. She immediately pushed the speed-dial button for Jackson, turning on her heels and grinning like a fool. As the second ring sounded, she realized what she’d done and hung up.

“Fuck,” she whispered to the empty room. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” She paced by the window. Something wonderful had happened and the first person she wanted to call was Jackson? Not Bryce. Not one of her girlfriends or her assistant. But Jackson?

It was always Jackson.

Before the proposal, it never felt wrong that he was the center of her universe.

She turned at a knock at her door and managed a semi-smile as George, her assistant of three years, walked into the room, carrying a bouquet of white roses. His spiky hair and skinny slacks gave his already lanky body an even thinner appearance.

“I heard a very loud, ‘Yes!’ Does that mean someone’s in a good mood?” He set the flowers on the desk, positioning them just right in the sun. “And does it have anything to do with these lovely flowers?”

“I have no idea.” Jackson doesn’t send flowers. “No. I’m sure not, actually. It has to do with this.” She handed him her cell phone just as it vibrated.

He arched a brow as he read the text. “Um…Erica! Bryce proposed to you? And I’m hearing about it from a text from Jackson Wild?”

“What?” She snagged the phone from his hand, wondering what the hell he was reading. Have you accepted Bryce’s marriage proposal yet? Her heart fell to her knees. She grabbed the windowsill to remain erect.

Yet.

He expected her to accept the proposal.

“That’s…” She paused to try to find her breath. “That’s not the text I wanted you to read.” She couldn’t tear her eyes from the text from Jackson, couldn’t believe he really wanted her to marry Bryce.

“What could be better than that?” George asked.

She lifted her eyes, and George’s eyes widened as he sat in the chair beside her and reached for her hand.

“Oh, Erica.” He lowered his voice. “I had a feeling about you and Jackson…But I wasn’t sure.”

She pushed from the chair, turned her back to George, and crossed her arms—a barrier against the truth. “We’re…friends.”

“With benefits?” George was the only employee who would have the guts to challenge her. It was one of the reasons she’d hired him, besides the fact that he was organized to the hilt and had a golden touch with clients.

“Friends,” she insisted. She couldn’t even fool George. It was no wonder that every time she said the word her heart cracked a little more.

“Oh,” he said casually. “My error. Then you’ve accepted the proposal from Bryce? The sexy stockbroker who turns every head in the office and treats you like gold? Because if so, then I owe you an apology and I’m definitel—”

She spun around, silencing him with a narrow-eyed stare as she stomped over to her desk and ripped the card from the flowers.

“Hey, hey, now. Those gorgeous blooms don’t deserve to be manhandled.” He primped the petals as she read the note.

I can’t wait to see you this weekend. I know you’ll make the right decision. Celebrate at Club 21? I love you, Bryce.

“Ugh.” She slapped the card on the desk.

“You’re making this way too easy for me.” He picked up the card and scanned it. “Have you not accepted his proposal?” When she didn’t answer, he said, “No proposal acceptance can mean only one thing.”

“That I need to think,” she said harshly.

He lifted one thin shoulder and smiled. “Or that you shouldn’t think at all.”

“I don’t even know what that means, George. How can I not think about this? Enlighten me, please.”

“What did you do when you first started courting Zac Posen?”

She gave a lazy shrug, hating the way she felt when two of the biggest events of her life should have had her doing a freaking happy dance like a carefree idiot and instead she felt rooted in quicksand.

“I’ll tell you what you did. You figured out exactly what you wanted, you devised a plan, and you went for it. You strategized. The same way you created this entire business, right? Isn’t that what you’ve always said? That you never give up? That’s what sets your magazine apart from all other magazines. You’re more creative. You live on the edge, and you take chances.”

“That sounds like a lot of thinking to me,” she said with an eye roll.

“Exactly. But thinking, strategizing, devising a plan about something other than the dilemma you’re trying so hard not to think about. If you focus on making Posen’s interview the best interview you have ever done, you’ll be too busy to think about anything else. Including Bryce’s proposal and whatever isn’t going on with you and Jackson.”

She lifted her eyes. “Procrastination? I suck at that.”

“So don’t think of it as procrastination. Think of it as nailing the biggest interview of your career. You’ll be surprised at how the rest of your life falls into place.”

“Don’t you mean falls apart? I’ll lose both Bryce and Jackson.”

“Girl, for such a smart woman, you sure don’t know men very well. Let your gay friend clue you in.” He flashed a devilish grin. “There is no greater aphrodisiac than the unavailable partner. That goes for men and women alike.”

“So…what? I’m supposed to disappear for a while? I don’t even know what I want, George.”

“Perfect!” George smiled again. “Then you aren’t even ready to make a decision, which makes this step even more important. Operation Posen begins now.” His finger shot up toward the ceiling. “Give me all the deets. I’ll get the timing coordinated, and until then…we’ll strategize.”

“After I answer Jackson’s text.” She began typing a text into her cell phone and George ripped the phone out of her hands.

He shook his head and pressed his hand over her phone. “A very wise boss once told me that an unprepared response is worse than no response at all.”

“Shouldn’t I at least thank Bryce?”

“Unavailable means no texts, no phone calls. Nothing.” He took her cell phone and tucked it into the desk drawer.

Laney leaned back in her chair and stared at the wise and innately clever man who just might have saved her sanity—at least for the next few hours.

***

JACKSON CHECKED HIS cell phone for the millionth time and cursed under his breath. He had a text from Logan and one from Heath, neither of which he’d read, and none from Laney. He didn’t need to open the texts from Logan or Heath to know that they were telling him how stupid he was to let Laney go. Logan had cornered him at their mother’s house to tell him he was being a fool, as if he didn’t know that already.

There were a hundred reasons why Laney might not return his texts, but only one of them fit the situation.

He’d been a dick.

A big, fat, hairy dick.

The kind of dick he would tell her to walk away from.

He tried to concentrate on the models he was supposed to be photographing, but the studio lights were too bright, and the girls looked plastic, as if their skin were stretched too tightly over their bones. He’d slept with both of the brunette models, and still he couldn’t muster any attraction when he looked through the camera. They were gorgeous, tall and thin with perfect fake breasts and legs a mile long. But his mind was so entrenched in Laney—was she going to marry Bryce? Had he ruined the best thing in his life?—that he couldn’t think straight, much less see straight.

Cooper was moving around the room like the avid photographer he was. Taking pictures that Jackson knew would be incredible. He was saving Jackson’s ass, too, because at five hundred dollars an hour, these models didn’t come cheap.

Jackson climbed up on the ladder and aimed his camera down toward the women, bringing the lens in tight. The shot was perfect, playing off the girls’ angular frames and the shadows cast by the bright lights, but all Jackson could see were the things that were going wrong in his life. The emptiness he’d feel if Laney married Bryce, the ache of knowing she’d never again barge through his front door demanding sex or a drink, or…fuck…anything.

He lowered his camera, and the women, still as mannequins, didn’t so much as blink. They’d been equally as unenergetic in bed. Willing to let him do whatever he wanted, hungry for release, but nothing more. No strings. Just the way he liked things.

No cuddling afterward.

Nothing more than, Thanks for a fun night.

He thought of his brothers and how they’d held their fiancée’s hands all through dinner, passing secret smiles and God only knew how many silent messages. He’d only ever had that with one woman—Laney. He only wanted it with Laney. The image of Laney lying on the boulder by the water came to him. He saw her smile as her eyes had opened and felt her body wrapped around his as they tumbled into the water.

He lifted the camera again, but it felt heavy in his hands. It felt wrong for the first time ever. He halfheartedly focused the lens, telling himself to suck it up and do his job.

It was no use. He couldn’t fucking concentrate. He climbed down from the ladder and saw Cooper scowling at him from across the room. Their assistants were holding the lights, standing with accessories at the ready for the next pose, and all Jackson wanted to do was get the hell out of there.

“Take ten,” Cooper shouted as he crossed the room toward Jackson. He waved away their assistants and gave Jackson a shove toward the door to his office.

Once inside, Cooper closed the door behind them and crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“You need to pull your shit together.”

Jackson was aching for a fight. A knockdown, drag-’em-out, fists-flying fight—but not with his brother. He wanted to find his fucked-up self in a dark alley and beat the shit out of him.

“Workin’ on it,” Jackson grumbled.

“No, you’re not. You’ve never lifted your camera so many times without taking a damn shot. What’s the problem?” Cooper held his stare through his silence. “Goddamn it, Jackson. You can’t fuck up our careers over Erica. Either go apologize to her or get over it.” He turned and blew out a frustrated breath. “Just for the record, my vote is for you to apologize.”

Jackson scoffed. “What the fuck do you know about apologizing?”

“I don’t know shit about apologizing, but I know about you. And you without Erica?” He closed the distance between them and his eyes went serious. “Bro, I can’t even picture you without her.”

Neither can I.

“Can you picture me married? A ring on my damn finger? Home by six, dinner on the table, a couple of kids?” Surprisingly, the idea didn’t sound as awful as it always had. Not when the woman he’d be coming home to was Laney.

Cooper smiled. “Hell no. But why is it marriage or nothing? She has a proposal. So what? That doesn’t mean that you have to propose. Just tell her how you feel. We all know you love her. That should be enough to hold off this Bryce guy and keep her in your bed.”

The problem was, he didn’t want to hold off Bryce and keep Laney in his bed.

He wanted to hold off every other man on the planet, and he wanted Laney by his side. Always.