CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
REID
Something was wrong with Jordan. For one, her hair was pulled back so tight it looked like her eyebrows hurt. Two, her eyes were puffy. And three, well, her smile was off and seemed forced. Pathetic that I knew which of her smiles were real and which were fake, but there it was.
She’d bulldozed herself into my life three days ago, and now I was concerned for her welfare, all because she looked like she’d just watched the latest Nicholas Sparks and was pissed because he killed someone off—again.
“So.” Jordan cleared her throat. “The segment is on love and sex. They’ll ask you questions about the movie and then some personal questions about relationships. Make sure you sell the whole ‘I’m taming a real-life shrew’ thing, and lucky for you I’m in a hell of a mood so it won’t be a hard sell to the host. Got it?”
I frowned. “Are you sick?”
“What?” She jerked back. “No, why?”
Her hair looked like it hurt. It wasn’t soft or tame—hell, I would have even taken the wild sex hair over the bun she was currently sporting. It also irritated me because it made her look too professional. My eyes greedily searched for some stains on her shirt.
Nothing.
Pristine.
“Did you have a bad day?”
Her shoulders tensed.
“Holy shit, did Casey hit on you? Swear I’ll kill him. Where is he? Give me his number, I’ll break his leg in half!” I started pacing in the elevator.
“Whoa, there.” Jordan braced my shoulders just as we reached the fifth floor. “He’s no longer my client, no breaking necessary.”
“If he touched you—”
“Nope.” Another forced smile. “Creative differences. Let’s get this over with, shall we?”
She swept past me and greeted the host, made introductions, then shooed me into the small room.
“Today on Sirius Sex and Love, we have Reid Emory. You may know him from his long stint on Broadway as the Phantom. His debut film releases next spring, The Taming of the Shrew.” Mikey M had a deep voice that I’m sure many a woman listened to on a daily basis. He laughed. “Early reviews are saying this is going to be a breakout role for the young actor, and I gotta say, the buzz surrounding you these last two weeks has been out of this world. So, if you don’t mind, Reid, let’s jump right into it, shall we?”
I took a seat in front of the microphone. “Sure.”
“Now, your real-life Taming of the Shrew with your publicist has been all over the media. Hell, the little video you two shot last night already has over a million hits on BuzzFeed.” Really? Did Jordan not think I should know that little tidbit before going on live radio? “The arch is officially the second-highest trending topic on Twitter, and I just have to ask . . . this thing between you two, is it real?”
“Y-yes.” Oh, great. Stuttering was super helpful. “I’m—” I stopped talking and glanced at Jordan. She wasn’t even paying attention! Her face was ducked and she was typing furiously on her phone. I smirked. Fine, two could play that game. She was embarrassed by me? Trying to ignore the fact that she had responded to me sexually? “Can I shoot straight, Mikey?”
“Sure thing!” He chuckled.
“It’s going horrible.”
I heard Jordan suck in a breath while Mikey leaned forward. “I’m sure our listeners are curious to know why.”
“It’s work. I mean . . . I try to kiss her and she pulls away. The video last night isn’t even the half of it. After we shot it, I took a shower and she got pissed because I forgot to put my clothes in the hamper.”
“So you’re living together?”
“Yeah, and let me tell you, it’s not a cakewalk. The woman basically beats me in my sleep.”
Jordan jumped to her feet and marched over to the microphone while I ducked and covered my head with my hands.
“Whoa.” Mikey shook his head. “Um, listeners, you can’t see this, but it looks like the shrew has a violent streak.”
“I have the bruises to prove it.” I nodded.
“Domestic violence isn’t something to joke about,” he said soberly.
My lower lip quivered. “Sometimes, I make her a sack lunch. I mean, that’s romantic, right? Making my girl lunch. And if I don’t cut off the crust . . .” I shivered.
Mikey held out his hand. “Do you think she takes out her aggression on you because there are issues in the bedroom?”
“Ha.” Jordan kicked my shin, then pulled a seat out and spoke into the microphone. “He jokes . . . it’s what Reid does, right, Reid? You’re joking?”
I smiled shamelessly. “Mikey, I think you hit the nail on the head . . . the bedroom is . . . well, it’s where we should be connecting on both a physical and emotional level. Instead, she wants to take control . . . which frankly just takes all the pleasure out of it for me.”
Jordan blushed furiously.
“Oh, wow.” Mikey laughed. “Our phone lines are lighting up right now. We’ll take a few questions in a minute. Let’s talk a little bit about the sex life between you two. Now, Jordan, why do you think you need to control everything? Have you always struggled with that?”
I leaned back and crossed my arms. “Yeah, Jordan, why so controlling?”
She gave me an I’m going to kill you look and then spoke sweetly into the microphone. “I wouldn’t have to if he knew how to use his equipment.”
“What the hell!” I roared.
Mikey laughed again. “And when you say equipment . . .”
“It’s like . . .” Jordan tapped her chin. “He has the hammer, and he sees the nails, but doesn’t quite know where to hit ’em in.”
Oh, shit. She just took it too far.
I kicked her under the table. “Now who’s joking?” I laughed awkwardly. “I’ll have you know, I am fully aware of where to hammer, though it needs to be said that a man’s very sensitive about his hammer, protective, even. How do I know she’s going to allow me to do my job if she’s constantly yelling the instructions at me!”
“Please!” Jordan rolled her eyes. “Like men ever read instructions. Maybe if they did they’d be able to actually complete a project with some satisfaction!”
“Are you saying he doesn’t satisfy you, Jordan?” This from Mikey.
“I’m sure he has the equipment to.” Jordan eyed me up and down. “The question is . . . does he have the ability?”
“Want me to prove how much ability I really have?” I whispered. “Because I have nothing against public displays of affection.”
Her cheeks reddened.
“Let’s, ah . . .” Mikey coughed. “Take a few calls. You’re on the air with Mikey M and Reid Emory.”
“So . . .” The voice was familiar. Oh, shit. “Our mother favored me over him when he was a child, and I think it left him feeling . . . small. If you get my meaning.”
“Small? Who is this?”
“Max Emory . . .” Max coughed. “And let’s further discuss Reid’s smallness. It’s a tiny, well-known fact that when one feels . . . insignificant and . . . petite, they shy away from dominance in the bedroom.”
“Dude,” I yelled into the microphone. “He’s kidding.”
“Small fry,” Max wailed. “They called him small fry during gym class.”
Holy mother of chickens. I was going to throw Max into a furnace and light it on fire.
“Small fry?” Mikey looked as uncomfortable as I felt. “Well, then, thank you for that . . . er . . . very interesting piece of information.”
“Every LITTLE BIT helps,” Max said cheerfully.
Jordan coughed out a laugh.
“You’re on with Mikey M and Reid Emory.”
“Hey.” The voice sounded like it came from an eighteen-year-old girl. “I don’t buy it. They have no chemistry. Boo. Publicity stunt.” The caller hung up.
Mikey shifted in his chair. “One more call. You’re on with Mikey M and Reid Emory.”
“She’s his publicist . . . I highly doubt he’s sleeping with her. I agree with the other caller. The video was funny as hell, but I’m not convinced. Give me something real.”
Hang up.
Shit, shit, shit, shit. Jordan grew paler by the minute.
I did the only thing I could think of doing, hoping that Mikey M would at least vouch for us. I grabbed her by the back of the neck and kissed her right in front of Mikey M, then spoke softly into the microphone. “I guess we’ll just have to prove to everyone once and for all that this is it for us.”
Jordan nodded.
“Baby,” I crooned. “I know it’s only been a few days, but I feel like I’ve known you all my life.”
Her eyes widened.
“Would you—”
She shook her head violently.
“—do me the honor of marrying me?”
The gum dropped out of Mikey M’s mouth.
“You’re it for me.” I got down on both knees. “We both knew it was heading this way. I loved you the first minute you spoke my name.” Never mind that she called me a gay handsome stranger. “And when we held hands the first time.” Or when she elbowed me in the ribs. “I felt whole for the first time in probably my entire existence.”
Jordan’s hands shook in mine.
“The movie is . . . well, it’s my job. But baby, you and Otis, you’re my life!”
“Who’s Otis?” Mikey asked.
I waved him off. “Say yes.”
Dead silence.
“Yes,” Jordan said, voice hoarse. “Yes!”
I jumped to my feet and twirled her around while Mikey scratched his head and then said into the microphone, “Well, folks, I guess our doubts have all been settled. Reid Emory has taken The Taming of the Shrew from the silver screen and actually lived it! Thanks for being on the show, guys, and congrats.”
Jordan was silent as we made our way down the elevator. And when we got into the waiting sedan, she was still quiet.
It wasn’t until we pulled out onto the street that she smacked me in the head with her purse. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that people weren’t buying it!” I yelled. “And I fixed it!”
“By proposing marriage?” she wailed. “Marriage is forever! You can’t just propose marriage on a national platform, then two days later say it won’t work out! It will RUIN you. It ruins any credibility you have.”
I opened my mouth, then shut it. “It’s good publicity. You’re just mad you didn’t think of it.”
“Right.” She smacked me twice more. What the hell did she have in there? Bricks? A Taser? Probably both. “Because that’s what I want after a crappy day where my very first client all but verbally assaults me, then accuses me of wanting to sleep with him. A husband!”
“Wait, what?” I held up my hands as she kept smacking me. “He hit on you?”
“No. Yes.” She stopped swinging the purse. “Does it matter?”
“Hell, yes, it does! I’m your husband!”
“Um, no, no you’re not. As of right now you’re barely my friend, and I’m even rethinking that little lapse in judgment. You’ve managed to make a mess of our entire PR plan all within three days! I can’t fix this type of crazy!”
“Well, you can’t quit!”
“I know that!”
“Stop yelling.” I crossed my arms. “You’re being unreasonable and I hate your hair.”
“What?” She tugged at her tight low ponytail. “It’s tamed!”
“I prefer it wild.” Like you. But I didn’t say that. I felt stupid, stupid that I’d panicked and proposed, and stupid that I was offended she wasn’t elated at the idea. But then again, what the hell type of woman would be?
An insane one.
“Crab Shack,” she muttered. “Let’s eat and then I’ll try to fix this mess.”
“I already did.” I reached behind her head and tugged the rubber band away, letting her brown hair bounce loose around her shoulders. “Let’s think about this logically.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, now you want to be logical.”
I pressed my finger to her lips. “Logically, does it work? Movie star falls in love and marries his pet project while filming in New York. Most interesting couple allows media to view parts of their relationship while he finishes up filming. Oh, look, a picture of the couple by the lake. Oh, what? There they are kissing by the hot dog stand.”
“Nobody kisses by the hot dog stand.”
“Wasn’t finished.” I shushed her. “Riding bikes down the trail! A picnic at sunset!”
“We aren’t in Anne of Green Gables. There will be no picnics.”
“Just . . .” I braced her shoulders. “Does the marriage angle work?”
Her eyes fluttered closed and then opened. A sliver of hope raced through me at her defeated look. “It can work.”
“Yes!”
“But—” She held up her hand. “But the story won’t be about taming anymore. You’ve made it bigger than that—”
“So what’s it going to be about?”
“Love and seduction,” she whispered. “Seduce me, and you seduce them.”
“Them?”
“The audience.” Jordan frowned. “You’ll be seducing me and making me believe you want something permanent, but they’ll be experiencing it with me, living it with me, which means that in the end . . .”
“What?” What end? Things were ending? A choking panic seized my lungs as I tried to digest what she’d just said.
“In the end,” she repeated, “I’ll have to be the bad guy. It will have to be me that ends things with you. So I guess we come full circle. You’ll seduce the shrew, and the shrew will decide in the end that she doesn’t want to change. That’s how the story ends. That’s how this ends.”
“You’re depressing the shit out of me, Jordan, you know that, right?” Talking about ending things when it seemed like something was just starting between us was making my mood worse.
She shrugged.
“Hell, he must have done a number on you.”
“What?” She flinched and tucked her wild hair behind her ear. “What are you talking about?”
“Casey. You guys date?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t understand.”
“You wouldn’t.” The car pulled to a stop in front of the restaurant. She reached for the handle, but I put my hand over hers and stopped her.
“Try me.”
I inhaled her perfume as I waited for her response. Her breathing picked up as she glanced down at our joined hands and closed her eyes.
“Casey and I were best friends. He was one of my first clients.”
“So when you quit today—”
“I lost my friend, but to be fair, I lost him years ago. I lost him to the money, the fame . . .”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
“That won’t happen,” I felt the need to add. “To me, to us.”
Jordan shrugged. “We have to be best friends in order for that to happen, and I’m pretty sure Max staked that claim on you long ago.”
I rolled my eyes. “Max thinks he’s everyone’s best friend.”
Her frown turned into a small smile. “I wonder why?”
“Never wonder where he’s concerned. Should we eat?”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “Good idea.”
The conversation was forced throughout dinner, so forced that I had our waiter box up our food. Maybe Jordan needed to go back to the apartment and think. She’d had a day from hell and I’d made it even worse.
Gold star for Reid.
As distressed as she was, I knew I couldn’t help her. I never said I was good at comforting women. I almost offered to get her drunk when we got back to the apartment, but I knew that wasn’t going to work.
Because Max was sitting on our couch, arms crossed, a scowl marring his features. Becca sat on the other couch, pity etched on hers.
“Oh, hell,” I muttered.
He smiled.
I hated that smile. Because damn it to hell, I’d just played into his greedy little hands. Get married first? Me? Yeah, I’d said that. He’d officially won, and I’d been too ass hurt to realize it.
On second thought, the girl who called sounded familiar too.
He wouldn’t.
Becca looked at her hands guiltily.
He would.
“You bastard!” I charged toward him, fist flying.