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According to the sign, the contest is sponsored by a writers’ conference and a local talent agency. Next to the words, a life-size guy wears a Stetson, a cowgirl, and a twelve-pack. Of abs, not beer. A group of barefoot dudes in jeans gather below the sign. Like the cowboy, none of them bother with shirts.
I relax my shoulders. Gretchen and her crew are here for them, not me. “I’ll be keeping my shirt on today, thanks.” I give her my Gabriel Wade dimples.
That gets more than a few laughs from a crowd that’s multiplied since I was ambushed.
Next to me, Escalator Girl claws at her wrist, getting shifty, like she might bail.
That won’t work. Not only is she about to lose a layer of skin, she’s on the edge of outing my half-ass cover. I kiss her hair as a ploy to whisper, “I’ll owe you. Huge.”
Her forehead scrunches like she’s still trying to figure out how she ended up with a reporter in her face and me draped all over her.
Gretchen scrutinizes me, and based on the calculating look in her eye, she doesn’t believe Escalator Girl as my cover for a second. “Does this mean you and Kimberly Kane are finally done?”
If only. I smile into the camera, letting my non-answer be my answer.
Despite the appearance of the thing I have going with my costar, our relationship is studio dictated and media inflated—except for the night she swerved out of the friend zone, and it took me ten too-long minutes to decidethatwas a crap idea.
“And you’re here because?” Gretchen practically chokes me with the mic.
“I’m spending time with...” While I know Escalator Girl has soft lips, beautiful hair, and rockin’ legs, I don’t know her name. I steal a glance at her badge. “Jess.” Who flinches. Maybe at my cheat. Maybe at the way I shortened her name. In any case, it cost me points. Since the kiss wore off, I’ve been sliding into the red.
“So will you be here the whole conference?” Gretchen pries.
It depends on how many times I plan on letting my sister down. “This thing is new, you know?” Pitching my voice in that perfect place between arrogant and sexy, I pull Jess closer. “I guess we’ll have to see how the week goes.”
Anger flashes in her eyes. And in three... two... one... she jerks away. Which is what I get for not checking my ego with my suitcase.
Gretchen’s gaze goes hawk-like and hits the badge hanging around Jess’s neck. “Jessica Thorne. You’re on my interview schedule for Saturday. Your debut book release.” Targeting her new prey, she tips the mic toward Jess. “This is a twist of fate. Just how long have you been seeing Gabriel Wade?”
“Not long.” Jess’s voice walks a trembling tightrope.
I’ve made a huge mistake offering up a girl like Jess as bait. I shut out what Mom has ground in me sinceRaising Ryderhit big—take care of you, let everyone else fend for themselves. Meredith Wade’s onscreen portrayal of Meredith Morgan and her unconventional parenting style might’ve made America laugh, but what no one realized was that most of our scripted mother/son conversations on-camera were an extension of what went on at home.
Linking hands with Jess in a show of I’ve-got-your-back, I press my mouth against her knuckles. Even her fingers smell like flowers. “Gretch, you’re making my girl nervous.” I pause for effect, my tone overly playful. “Hell,Istill make her nervous.”
“Gretchen.” Someone on her news crew near the banner calls her name. “We’re ready.”
She turns to answer, and I take advantage of the diversion to guide Jess through the crush of people and out of the lobby. I don’t stop walking until I hit an empty hallway on the far side of the hotel.
I owe her an explanation. For the impromptu kiss, the painful press conference, my ass of an ego. But when I see the lost look in her green eyes, I’ve got nothing. I sigh and brace myself for the fallout.
But she doesn’t yell at me. She doesn’t question me. She doesn’t evenlookat me.
I have no business messing with this girl. But instead of shoving my hands into my pockets like I should, I rub my thumb across the top of her hand and close my fingers around hers. We’re alone. No audience. No reason to touch her. Except I want to.
Lips slightly parting, she stares at our hands. At my mouth.
If she’s remembering our kiss, I’m reliving it and adding on extras. I lean into her, but before my mouth meets hers, her gaze flicks to the event poster beside me.
“Oh my gosh.” She jerks her fingers free. “I’m late.”
While I’m still asking myself if she really saidoh my gosh, she blows past me down the hall.
The shock that she left me hanging takes a second to wear off. Then like one of my crazy fangirls, I chase after her.
chapter 5
Jess
