Chapter Fifteen
Kate woke up with the weight of Jake’s naked body pressed up against her back, his arm draped around her, all casually intimate and cozy. The Morning After, Take Two. Definitely better than the first, she thought, looking at his sleeping form, the sheet low on his hips. Better because he was still here, in the bed, looking delicious and cool.
“Morning.” The warm sound of his voice sent an impossible thrill of pleasure down her spine. A sexy-as-sin smile touched his mouth as he rolled onto his right hip, allowing the sheet to dip a little lower. More than anything, she wanted him to stay. Her confounded romantic heart wanted to see him in the morning. Feel the naked length of him next to her. Hear that voice. See that smile. Rise up to meet him as he buried himself inside her.
“Morning.” Even to her own ears, her voice echoed with longing.
Jake reached out and tucked a curl behind her ear. Dropped a kiss on her mouth. Smiled. “I have to go.”
Kate blinked. Of course, he did. Yes, she’d expected bagels and morning sex. Not in that order, but he needed to go. Panic took up residence in an open corner of her heart. What had she expected? For him to stay? Drop down on one knee? Cuddle?
“I’m meeting Nick to go over the contract for my next book, but dinner later?”
She nodded vaguely, knowing he was about to leave her bed, wanting him to stay.
“I thought dinner was too traditional,” she said, attempting a casual humor she didn’t feel.
He gave her his most wicked smile, his hands skimming the curve of her hips, dipping under the sheet to give her ass an affectionate squeeze. “Oh, we are way past traditional dates and conversation.”
Despite her brain knowing better, her body grew hot, scandalously ready to give it another go. But he was already climbing out of the bed. Beautifully, perfectly naked—and leaving. Again.
Been here. Seen it, she thought, pulling the sheet up to her shoulders.
Jake smiled dutifully as he pulled on his jeans and yanked the T-shirt over his head, but the distance was there again. Physical—check. Emotional—check.
As he bent to drop a kiss onto her mouth, she reached up to frame his face in her hands lingering in a kiss that was meant to be a token, not a guarantee.
But he held her gaze sweetly. “I’ll call you later.”
Kate nodded, an understanding smile plastered on her face. “Don’t you need a cab?”
“Nope. I’m going to take a walk over to the bridge, so I’ll just catch one there.”
And then, he was gone. As the door closed behind him, a sigh escaped from somewhere deep inside. She knotted the sheet between her fingers. Last night had been earth-shattering, easily the best sex of her life. Because sex with him just kept getting better. As if their bodies had been designed to work together. She’d known how to move with him, known what he needed, known exactly where to touch him to push him over the edge. Like their bodies had known each other for years. Connecting pieces of the same puzzle. Divided halves looking to come together, looking to be reunited. Like soul mates.
Her heart stopped. No, she shoved the sheet aside, not like soulmates. More like Three Days to Remember. That’s all he’d offered. He’d promised her three days and an exclusive, and now the end of their affair was approaching. Soon it would be over—like a sexual drive-by. He’d wrap up his business, go back to his peaceful island, and she’d be back at square one. Why did I think it would be any different? She’d signed on for an interview—not love, not a relationship.
Rather than lie in bed, stewing over her emotions, she slid out of bed, ready to organize her ideas for her spec piece. A shower would give her perspective. A seriously cold shower, she thought, grabbing her seersucker robe.
Walking toward the bathroom, she caught a glimpse of a sheaf of folded papers peeking out from beneath the bed. Recognizing the bold red SMART CUPID, Inc. across the top, she picked it up and unfolded what was obviously a contract. An unsigned contract for her exclusive on Jake’s new book—No Strings Attached. Her heart stuttered in her chest. No Strings Attached?
Kate felt a small stab of pain in her chest. That’s how I inspired him?
She fell back onto the bed, the contract in her shaking hands. She’d convinced herself she could manage an intense attraction that went nowhere but the bedroom, but now, holding this black-and-white contract, knowing how she’d inspired him, it was soul crushing.
Because she was in love with him.
Dammit. She’d gone and fallen for another super-hot, super-unavailable guy. A familiar tightness started like she was going to lose her breath. All his talk about being brave and embracing the unexpected. All his sweet kisses and the amazing sex. All these hours she’d been falling in love, and he’d just been stringing her along. Just picking up where we left off.
He wasn’t looking for a relationship. He was looking for three days while he was in town. She’d known that. Miraculously, she’d come home from the island with her heart in one piece, but here in the city—she’d fallen. Tears stung at the back of her eyes. She’d never be New Kate because she was still Old Kate, falling in love with the wrong guys. Only this time hurt a lot more.
How stupid could she be, thinking this guy who couldn’t open his heart was going to come through for her? All along it was just a way to get her into bed for “research” for his book. And without a signed contract for the exclusive she wouldn’t even have Cosmo.
She blinked back tears. What had she expected when he’d shown up all hot and gorgeous? Swear never, ever, under any circumstances, no matter how charming he seems, no matter much he says he needs you…to fall for another super-hot guy. Would she never learn?
Kate was shaking when her phone chimed into her frustration. She glanced at the screen. Don’t hyperventilate. Do. Not. Hyperventilate. On her Cosmo feed, there was a breaking news banner announcing that Jake Wright’s new book entitled No Strings Attached was due out in February. Staring at the screen, her aching, over-stuffed heart started to crack.
No—Strings—Attached.
Apparently, he’d signed that contract. The man left her bed, clearly committed to his no-strings theory… Had he just been using her? Sweet, other-oriented Kate had refused to turn in the bachelor profile—his bachelor profile—risking her career because some intimacies were private, and yet, here he was selling their intimate encounter to all of Manhattan. She closed her eyes and tried not to let the sense of betrayal take root.
No Strings Attached. She should have known better. Hell, she had known better, she’d just been so distracted by him showing up in New York.
Kissing her. Seducing her with guaranteed great sex. Leaving her broken-hearted.
She’d believed he was different. Had she been wrong?
She needed to know.
Trading her robe for clean sweatpants, she grabbed a hoodie and dragged it across her shoulders. As she zipped the front, she shoved her feet into a pair of slip-on sneaks and picked up her keys and the contract. Minutes later, she burst out the front door of her building. She looked up and down the street, trying to imagine which direction he’d gone. Right or left?
Toward the bridge. She turned right and ran up the street so fast she thought the pieces of her heart might burst from her throat. Her sneakers hitting the pavement beat out a rhythm. Had she been wrong? Had she been wrong? The tree-lined street passed in a blur. Every step brought her closer to him. Closer to answers.
At Orange, she turned left toward the park, and just past the white cast-iron building on the corner of Columbia Heights and Cranberry, she saw him. Her heart leaped to her throat. She stopped in the middle of the cobblestone sidewalk. Part of her wanted to turn back, forget she’d found the contract, forget the book, forget everything except how he made her feel. How she loved him. But her sense of betrayal cut too deep. Had she been so wrong?
She drew in a breath. “Jake.”
He turned immediately, the sweetest smile on his face. He waved and walked toward her. Keep breathing. Keep breathing.
“Hey, decide to join me? I was about to cut up to the park to grab a cup of coffee.” He closed the distance between them, still smiling, until…his gaze drifted to the contract she clutched in her hand. He looked up at her, a sudden tension pulling at his features.
She held out the contract. “You left this behind.”
“Kate, I can explain.” He stepped toward her and she took her own step back.
“You never meant for me to have the exclusive.”
Jake shook his head. “Not true—I did. I do. It’s just that I’m still trying to work through the details of the book with my publisher and I didn’t want—”
Kate held up a palm to stop him. She had heard enough. More than enough. “No strings attached? Is that it? Is that really all I am to you? A three day bootie call in the city?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Kate, that’s not fair.”
Fair? Fair? What does he know about fair? “Because you are so much more me to me than some convenient, no-strings arrangement. I love you, Jake.”
“Kate, please…”
“No, I do.” She choked back a few tears, “Stupid, stupid me, dating disaster that I am, I love you.”
“Listen, you can have the exclusive…”
“Jake, this is not about some exclusive, some theory or hypothetical—I love you.”
He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “Kate, I swear, let me manage the shit with the book, and when I’m done I’ll answer any question you have, do anything you want.”
She lifted her eyes to catch his gaze. “Anything but love me.”
He looked away. She had her answer. A new kind of pain settled in the middle of her chest. If she thought her heart was broken before…
The early morning sun shined through the trees, creating dappled shadows on the sidewalk. Obviously, she meant nothing to him. Looking at him standing on the side street in Brooklyn, more beautiful than ever, her cracked heart broke apart. Into more pieces than she could count. She wondered if a heart this shattered could ever be whole again.
“Kate, I’m sorry. I’m not built for love.”
“But I am.” More than anything, she’d wanted love, and he was a man who refused to believe in relationships. What did I expect?
“I know, and maybe that’s why I’m so afraid I’ll just hurt you in the long run.”
“Hurt me in the long run?” So this is my fault? Can’t he see he’s hurting me now? He reached for her hand, and she wrapped her arms around her torso. If she let him touch her, she’d cry, and she was not about to let him see her cry at the thought of losing him.
He shoved his hands back into his pockets. “The fact that you are so open to love is part of what draws me to you, but I can’t give you what you need. Maybe after all the shit I’ve been through, my heart doesn’t work that way…maybe I’m just broken.”
A sad smile touched her lips. “You’re not broken. You’re just hiding.”
“Kate, God please, I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “Don’t be.”
After all, she was the one who kept telling herself it was okay, that maybe she didn’t need love and all of that stuff. But her heart was fully on the line, and already in for a world of hurt, she needed to walk away right now.
“I’ll have to take a rain check on that coffee.” She turned to go. “Oh, and dinner, too.”
“Kate.”
Don’t look back. Do not look back. Do. Not. Look. Back.
Kate gathered her hoodie close and continued walking, away from the park. She’d needed answers. Now, she had them. He was a man who refused to believe in relationships. Always would be. And for better or worse, after her heart healed—if her heart managed to heal—she’d still be the girl looking expectedly for love.
…
An hour later, Jake stood outside the bar in Tribeca, a dull pain centered in his chest. What had the woman expected? After all the times he’d revealed himself, his feelings about privacy, how celebrity had torn his marriage apart, his life. He thought she understood. Thought she was different. His jaw tightened. He never should have come back home.
And writing another book? What had made him think this time around would be any different? Because of her? Yes, he’d called it No Strings Attached. It was just a theory, for Christ’s sake. He never promised her anything. Anything more than great sex, anyway.
He’d always known he’d never be able to give her the fantasy…the love that lasts forever. Because more than guarantees and amazing sex and romantic nights at Coney Island, than her real, true fantasy. Love. The one thing he couldn’t give. He’d come to the city, thinking…maybe.
He was broken, and yet, somewhere inside him, he’d thought…maybe…and now she’d gone and broken him all over again. Given up on him. Walked away. Fine. He’d refocus. Wrap up his business. Go back to the island.
Hell, he simply hadn’t wanted to fail her in the end. And what had she said? You’re not broken. You’re hiding. Well, so be it.
He shoved aside any remaining doubts and walked into the bar. The last time he’d seen his friend Charlie’s bar, Temptation had been a small neighborhood joint. But this morning, with the race for the pennant on television and Bloody Marys flowing, the place bustled with a crowd of regulars, probably thanks to the publicity from the jaw-dropping bet his sister had made last year. On one of the morning shows. Always the matchmaker, she’d bet she could match any man in the city. Took a while, but she won, and now Jane and Charlie’s engagement was practically an urban legend.
At a table near the back of the bar, Nick, his older brother, was already going over the details of his contract. Formerly described as a bad boy, Nick was a partner at his law firm now, a position he’d damned well earned, and newly-married to the sweet girl from Jane’s office, the one who’d jumped out of his birthday cake. A bespectacled computer whiz wasn’t his brother’s usual type, but she’d jumped out of a cake. Yeah, exactly his type.
Jake walked over to the table, clapped his brother on the shoulder, and sat down. Nick pulled his Yankees cap low on his brow and set the contract on the hardwood table. His long legs stretched under the table, and he crossed his arms over his chest and nodded at the paper. “Sign it. Give him the book and you’ll be legally free of the asshole who banged your wife.”
“Correction,” Jake said, comforted by his brother’s direct approach. “Ex-wife.”
Nick nodded. “Ex-wife.”
Charlie came back from the bar and set a round of Bloody Marys down on the table. “Isn’t she now the asshole’s wife?”
Jake made a mocking sound in the back of his throat and lifted his drink in a toast, feeling like no time had passed. “To freedom.”
Nick and Charlie tilted their drinks, the glasses all meeting in the middle. Three childhood friends from Brooklyn.
His brother sipped at his drink. “To freedom.”
“To freedom.” Charlie sat down at the table.
Jake took a long sip of the spicy vodka drink. “Except you two aren’t exactly free.”
Both guys focused their attention on the Mets game playing on the television behind the bar, neither ready to cop to being beaten by love. Jake tilted his glass toward his brother. “I mean, you’re married.” He turned toward Charlie with a smile on his face. “And buddy, you are definitely on the ropes.”
Charlie waved him off. “I’m not on the ropes.”
Nick nodded in agreement. “Yeah, he’s not on the ropes. He’s done. Finished. The whole situation with our sister was embarrassing, really.”
“Lovestruck?” Jake teased, his voice full of mock-pity.
Nick leaned toward his brother. “After they broke up the first time, the man spent months talking about emotional honesty.”
Charlie grinned. “Emotional honesty—isn’t that your area of expertise, Jake? You’re the sexpert in the group.”
Jake chuckled and shook his head. “Ex-sexpert to you, buddy, and don’t think you’re getting out of this one. When are you going to make our sister an emotionally honest woman?”
“God, please,” Nick said, tugging at his dark hair, “I can’t take many more conversations about the wedding.”
Charlie rolled his eyes. “You are not the only one.” He jumped to his feet, waving his Mets cap at the television. “Did you see that hit? Did you—that’s it, that’s the ballgame.” He sat back down and grinned at Nick. “Next time we play pool, you’re buying, buddy.”
“Will you stop betting on the Yankees, bro. Every time you lay down money, they lose.”
Nick threw a twenty onto the table. “Just a friendly side wager.”
“So, what about you and love, Jake?” Catching the young bartender’s eye, Charlie gestured for him to flip to ESPN before turning back to the table. “Who brought you out of hiding?”
Nick choked back some of his drink but failed to hide his amusement. “He means, back to Manhattan.”
He offered a casual shrug. “The book, the apartment.”
Charlie looked at Nick. “I heard it was a woman.”
“Not a woman.” Not as of this morning, that’s for damn sure. Jake knew these guys were looking for a reaction, but he just swirled the Bloody Mary around in his glass, ice cubes clinking against the sides, aiming for cool. “Yes, there was a woman, but it was a no-strings situation.” He cocked an eyebrow. “No offense to you two, but commitment’s overrated.” Although the truth was his “new gold standard of relationships” was starting to feel a tad hollow.
Nick leaned way back in his chair. “Right—overrated.”
“I’m not interested in marriage.”
Charlie ran a hand over his five-o’clock shadow. “God knows the first one was a disaster.”
“A complete disaster,” Nick agreed.
“Total devastation.”
“Hurricane Sally.”
“Worse than a hurricane,” Jake confirmed, thinking his last experience with a hurricane was pretty damned fantastic. “A tornado.”
They stared at the middle of the table, silent.
“Women,” Charlie said.
“Can’t live with ’em,” Nick started the familiar adage.
“Can’t love without ’em,” Charlie finished, and his friends raised their glasses in silent tribute. “Course it is a little strange, a sex therapist being so bad with women.”
“I’m not bad with women,” Jake said on a defensive sigh. “Not all women, anyway. This woman…she was different.” He set the drink down and rotated the glass on the table. “Beautiful and sweet and funny. Amazing with a power tool. Totally down with the food at Spicy Village. But she had this crazy thing about airplanes and Ferris wheels.”
Nick offered up a casual nod. “So you took her to Coney Island?”
He took another sip from his drink to cover the fact that he’d sounded more like a guy in love than a guy letting go of a no-strings situation. So much was riding on his new theory, getting this book out into the marketplace. Honestly, Kate had done him a favor this morning. He needed to move on, and the book was his ticket. “Yes, I took her to Coney Island.”
All casual and cool, Nick asked, “When was the last time you were there?”
Jake eyed his brother with suspicion. “You know when.”
His brother flashed one of his brash, you-can’t-hide-from-me grins, the kind that had always made him confess when they were kids. “Didn’t you swear you’d never go back?”
“Jesus, what is this, counselor?” Jake asked, trying for humor but missing the mark by a mile. “A cross-examination?”
“Kiss her at the top?” he asked in full-on lawyer mode, already drawing his conclusion. “Yeah, you definitely kissed her at the top.”
Jake rolled his eyes and moved his glass in a circle on the table.
Charlie took a sip of his drink. Nick gave an easy shrug of his shoulder. “Not on the ropes.”
Charlie grinned. “Nope.”
Jake gave a short nod. “Thank you—at least somebody here knows the deal.”
“Yeah, he’s already down for the eight-count.” Charlie raised his glass in the air to meet Nick’s with a definite clink.
…
An hour later, Jake left the bar, having endured enough ribbing and bad sports metaphors to last a lifetime. Head bent toward the cobblestone and crossed over Chambers Street, the morning sun shining, the blue neon light of the bar’s signage reflecting his thoughts. Temptation. A small smile touched his lips. Kate was definitely that, and if he was honest, so much more.
He’d take her to dinner tonight and broach the subject of seeing her again. If all went well, there’d be a book tour. Trips to the city. Enough to work something out. Not exactly no-strings, not a commitment, but…hell, he didn’t know. Sure, he’d written another book, but he was still no expert. Spotting the famous green-and-gold hot dog cart on the other side of the street, he crossed against the light. Couldn’t get Nathan’s in Paradise. Best to get it now. But before he could get there, his phone buzzed in his pocket.
After digging it out, he swiped over to look at the message. A tweet appeared on the screen, something his ex-agent must’ve set up—although he never mentioned a media blitz. Typical of the asshole to move ahead without consulting him. He tapped on the screen and the Tweet appeared.
@Cosmopolitan Jake Wright’s long-awaited new book entitled No Strings Attached out this February. #havemoresex #loveit
Jake stopped in the middle of the street and had to move to avoid being clipped by a taxi. What the hell? Why was Cosmo tweeting about his book?
He swiped again and a list of social media hits splashed onto the screen. His cell chimed, so he flipped to messages and found several texts full of drink requests and potential dinner dates. A few dating profiles in the list even included photos. Jesus. He started to sweat. Already back to that counterfeit celebrity-style life where everybody wanted a piece of him. Shit, the book wasn’t even finished, and he was being assaulted by a media blitz and date requests from women on his iPhone.
Jesus, No Strings Attached was a working title. Yes, it was basically finished, but it was still a work in progress and, honestly, since dropping back into Manhattan, being with Kate, making love to her…here…back home…he’d started thinking…the hell with what he’d been thinking. All that was over now. Water under the Brooklyn Bridge.
Or was it? Had she sent in the profile after their breakup this morning? If you called ending a no-strings situation a breakup? Had she played him by sending in the bachelor profile? So she could follow it up with an exclusive on his new book? Selling him out as some win-a-date bachelor, betraying every minute they’d spent together, every intimacy they shared. No. That was bonkers. That wasn’t Kate. Yes, she’d been hurt and angry. Hell, he was furious with himself for his mistake, but that didn’t mean she’d done anything on his level. He was the asshole. Not her. But still, the whole thing didn’t add up.
He turned on his heels and strode back down to Chambers to catch a cab over to the Smart Cupid office where he hoped to find her—and some answers.
…
Fifteen long minutes later, Jake strode into his sister’s office. “What the hell?”
Jane looked up from her desk, cool as a damned fruit smoothie, as if she’d been expecting him. “I know, it’s unexpected, but the publicity might be a good thing.”
“Jane, you know how I feel about all the celebrity bullshit.”
“Jake, you wrote the book. Did you expect no one would read it?” She gave him a look that said be serious. “Did you think you’d roll back into Manhattan without anyone noticing? Come on.”
He tore both hands through his hair. Took a breath. Tried to stay calm. “Where’s Kate?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but she’s working from home today, and FYI, Kate had nothing to do with…the situation.”
“The situation. You mean my surprise publicity blitz?” he said, his voice laced with irritation.
Jane paused, opened her candy drawer and took out a Twix, a Snickers, and a King-sized pack of Twizzlers.
Jake took in the sugar-laden stash. Shit, this is a three-candy-bar problem. What the hell is she going to say next?
“So, you haven’t seen the Cosmo article?” Jane asked.
Dread seeping through his system, Jake dug his phone from his pocket. “What Cosmo article?”
He swiped his screen and dozens of new tweets stared back at him.
@Cosmopolitan Hey, Cosmo girls, check out Jake Wright’s bachelor profile on our website today. #nostringsattached.
@Cosmopolitan Is Jake your Mr. Wright. Enter now to win a date with Manhattan’s favorite sexpert #nostringsattached
@Cosmopolitan Sexpert Jake Wright talks boxers, blondes & fantasy. Bachelor Profile on newsstands next week. #nostringsattached
“Oh my God.”
A tight smile stretched across his sister’s face. “You’re trending.”
“This is a nightmare.” He swiped a hand across his face. “How the hell… So this wasn’t that son-of-a-bitch ex-agent…she turned in the damned bachelor interview.”
“No, she didn’t.” Jane drew in a breath and confessed on the exhale. “Kate didn’t turn in the profile. I did.”
He reached down deep and tried to stay calm. “Janey, I told you, no way in hell. I don’t want to be an Internet bachelor.” He flipped the phone around so she could see it. “Win a Date With Mr. Wright. Seriously?”
“I never meant for the magazine to publish it,” Jane said, apology in her tone. “I only sent it over to get Kate a shot at Cosmo. Hell, she earned it—flying off to that damn island of yours, dealing with your issues, cracking open that walled up heart of yours.”
Jake collapsed onto the loveseat and stared at the screen. “Jesus, I don’t want to be a bachelor. I want…” He let his words trail off.
Jane sighed. “I leaked the information about the new book, too. The exclusive interview was going to be Kate’s big shot at her dream job.”
He looked at Jane. “What do you mean cracking open that heart of yours?”
“Does it matter?” His sister raised an eyebrow. “Thought you wanted no strings.”
No strings? But did that mean he had to be alone forever?
“Hold on,” he said. “Was this whole thing a setup?”
“I thought something might happen between you two.”
A smile lifted the edges of his mouth. “You got good aim, Cupid.”
Jane looked at him, smiling back. “Damn good.”