Damaged In-Law (9 page)

“That
’
s Avery all over,” I laugh
softly.

“I thought that it would be easier to keep track of her,
once we started working on the movie,” Jack goes on, “But no dice. To be
perfectly honest, we would have been well underway with shooting if it hadn
’
t been for her erratic behavior. I have it on pretty good
authority that she was about to get fired from the job altogether.”

“You
’
re kidding,” I breathe.

“I
’
m not,”
Jack sighs,
“I
just...felt like such a fucking failure the whole time. I was letting Avery
down, letting the studio down, and tanking this project that I
’
d
been trying to get in the works for years. It
’
s like
everything I touched was turning to shit.”

“That must have been so hard,” I say softly.

“It was a real bitch,” Jack chuckles sadly, “But now that
the worst has happened...I don
’
t know. I
’
m
just ready to throw caution to the wind and do whatever I have to, to get this
movie made. Life
’
s too short, you know? I know that Avery
would have wanted me to soldier on without her, by any means. Her passing
away...it
’
s really put things into perspective for me. It
’
s like this crazy weight has been lifted off my shoulders, and
I just want to run with that feeling while I can.”

“You should!” I urge him. “Do whatever you need to, break
any rules that are standing in your way. And know that I
’
m
here for you, if you ever need me. If there
’
s any way I
can help you, just say the word and I
’
m there.”

“I
’
m so glad to hear you say that,”
Jack says, his face breaking into a relieved, elated smile. “You have no idea.”

“I mean it,” I assure him, “No ask is too big.”

“Well that
’
s excellent news,” he
smiles, “Because...well, there
is
something I want to ask you, Callie.”

My heart leaps into my throat as I try to guess what his
question might be.
Do you want to be with me? Will you come away with me? Do
you know how long I
’
ve wanted you?

“Go ahead then,” I urge him, moving my hand to where his is
resting on the bar. An eager smile lifts my lips as I hang on his every word.

“OK,” Jack breathes, giving my hand a squeeze. “Here it is.
Callie...

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,
my mind is reeling.

“How would you feel about taking Avery
’
s
place in
City of Red
?” he finishes, looking at me expectantly.

I keep my eyes trained on Jack
’
s face,
waiting. He
’
s handed me a joke...but where
’
s
the punchline? I wait for him to explain, to laugh, to put all kidding aside.
But as the seconds creep by, a heavy realization slams into my gut.

He
’
s not kidding. Not at all. 

“I
’
m sorry...What?” I blink, my heart
beginning to race in a very different, far less pleasant way.

“I want you to come with me. Be in my movie. Avery
’
s role needs to be filled before we can start shooting, and I
want you to be the one to fill it,” Jack says again, his voice eager and
assured. “So? What do you say?”

I don’
t say anything at all. I reach
for my replenished drink and drain half of it in one giant gulp. Jack
’
s smile wavers as I set the glass down, hard, my hands
beginning to shake.

“OK. I
’
m not sure I understand what
’
s happening right now,” he says, lifting an eyebrow. “You were
just going on about throwing caution to the wind and all...Are you mad at me,
or—?”

“
I don’
t even think I have a
word
for what I am right now,”
I sputter.

“I thought you
’
d be thrilled,” Jack
shoots back, frowning at my dismay. “I
’
m offering you the
opportunity of a lifetime, here.”

“You
’
re offering me the opportunity of
Avery
’
s
lifetime,” I whisper heatedly, blinking back baffled
tears. “What, you figure you can just plug me into her place in the world?
Christ, Jack—I
’
m not even a real actress! What the hell
are you thinking with this? Were we always that interchangeable to you?”

He stares at me like I
’
ve just spit in
his face. “Of course not,” he growls. “How could you—? Why would you—?” Never
in my life have I seen Jack at a loss for words like this. He drains the rest
of his drink, throws a fifty dollar bill onto the bar, and takes me by the
elbow. “Come on,” he says, nodding toward the exit.

“Where is it you think we
’
re going?” I
shoot back icily.

“Up to my room,” he informs me.

“
I don’
t remember agreeing to that. Or
you asking, for that matter,” I reply, forcing myself to remain calm. “I
’
m not really the blindly-following type, Jack.”

“People are starting to stare,” he says through gritted
teeth, “And I have a feeling our voices aren
’
t going to
get any quieter if we keep discussing this proposition.”

“Maybe we should stop discussing it then,” I suggest,
shaking off his grasp.

“That
’
s not an option,” he informs me,
crossing his thickly muscled arms. “You have to hear me out, Callie. I don
’
t care if it takes all night. Just come upstairs.”

“
I don’
t think I
’
m comfortable
—”

“Callie,” he says, his voice hard and final. “Finish your
drink, and come up to my room with me.
Now
.”

“What, no ‘please
’
?” I ask drily.

His blazing stare is enough of an answer. And because I
’
m already too buzzed to drive, because some masochistic part of
me really wants to hear what the hell he
’
s thinking with
all of this, because some small part of me is pretty fucking turned on by this
dominant thing he
’
s got going on right now, I knock back
my drink and rise to my feet.

In a heartbeat, my companion becomes a different person.
Jackson smiles serenely for the whole bar to see, while I try to keep the look
of pure ire off my face. His ability to turn on the charming cool-guy act is
honestly a bit unsettling. How can I ever know he
’
s being
real with me, if it
’
s so easy for him to cover up his real
emotions? How will I ever know when I
’
m talking to the
real Jackson Cole?

We set off toward the bank of elevators at the back of the
lobby and step inside, immediately moving to opposite corners of the car. My
whole body is trembling with barely-contained outrage and contradictory
excitement. My brain is two drinks in, more than a little foggy, and scrambling
to make sense of this twist. All told, this is not the evening I had in mind
when I set off to meet Jack in New York City.

Chapter Seven

The elevator spits us out on the top floor of The Rogue
Hotel. I have to hustle in my three-inch heels to keep up with Jack
’
s long stride as he leads me down the hallway, toward a door
marked “Penthouse”.

Naturally
.

Jack slides in his key card and wrenches the penthouse door
wide open. He turns to me with an over-the-top sweep of his arm, making a big
show of holding the door for me. I storm into the room, arms so tightly crossed
across my chest that I can feel my heart hammering against them, as if trying
to escape. The lights switch on all at once, and sheer awe is added to the
heady cocktail of feelings whirling inside of me.

I
’
m standing in the middle of the
sprawling penthouse, gaping at the enormity of the space. You could easily fit
four of my apartment under this suite
’
s impossibly high
ceilings. The main area features a sunken living room, fully-stocked
kitchenette, and three separate flat screen TVs. But the most amazing feature
of all is the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the penthouse
’
s
far walls. Through the length of windows, a panoramic view of midtown Manhattan
is on display. The Empire State and Chrysler buildings shoot up from the
skyline, glamorous and iconic. Far below, the bustling streets of SoHo are just
coming to life for the evening.

If this were any other night, the elegance of the Rouge
’
s penthouse would render me speechless. But tonight, it barely
even registers with me. I whirl away from the stunning view of Manhattan,
squaring off against my old friend as he shuts the door firmly behind him.

“There,” he says, marching toward the well-stocked bar
across the room, “Now you can get all hysterical on me without some asshole
recording the whole thing on his smartphone.”

“I
’
m not getting hysterical,” I tell
him, refusing to let my voice rise any louder in pitch or volume. I need him to
actually hear me, not just write me off as some crazy chick. “And I
’
m not in the mood for another round.”

“Too bad,” Jack replies, turning his back to me as he fixes
a couple of drinks, “Because I
’
m not continuing this
little talk without a glass of whiskey in hand. And I
’
m
not about to drink alone, so...”

He strides over to me and places another vodka tonic in my
hand. I can feel myself submitting to his will, letting him get away with being
a macho asshole. Why don
’
t I just leave? Tell him to fuck
off? It
’
s like his bad behavior is magnetic, or something.
The more he ramps up the chest-pounding, the more drawn to him I feel. It
’
s like my brain has been rewired or something...or maybe my
heart
’
s just overriding my common sense at every turn.

“So?” Jack goes on, strolling past me to the sunken living
room where he settles onto a leather sofa. “You were in the middle of dressing
me down, weren’t you?”

If only,
I think before I can stop myself, letting my
eyes linger on his fine form in repose. I give my head a shake to dislodge the
dirty thoughts and boozy fog alike.

“Well? Come on down here and let me have it,” he presses,
patting the sofa beside him.

A low, throbbing pressure starts rising in my core as I
think about letting Jackson Cole
have it
. I have got to yank my mind out
of the gutter, right this instant.

Focus, Benson,
I think to myself, taking a deep,
steadying sip of my cocktail and following Jack into the sunken living room. I
stand before him, planting a hand on my emerald-clad hip as his eyes skirt down
the length of my body. He doesn
’
t make it easy for a girl
to keep her head on straight, that
’
s for sure.

“What the hell were you thinking, springing this on me?” I
ask him firmly. “You led me right into your trap with all that long-suffering,
guardian angel crap. And all along you were just priming me to accept your job
offer? What the hell?!”

“Actually, I was thinking you might like a shot at being a
movie star,” he replies, resting his elbows on his knees. “I wasn
’
t
trying to trap you. Everything I said is absolutely true.” I catch a glimpse of
his sculpted pecs as the top button of his shirt comes undone. Good god
damn
.

“
Jack, come on,
” I mutter, averting my
eyes as that pulsing want at the very center of me begs for attention.

“What do you mean ‘come on
’
?” he
presses, “I thought you would be thrilled, Callie. Do you know how many
actresses out there would kill for this kind of opportunity? I
’
m
basically handing you an acting career on a silver platter, here. What
’
s the problem?”

“The problem is that I have no business taking this part!” I
exclaim, “You
’
re only offering it to me because I look
like Avery. This has nothing to do with me.”

“So what?” Jack replies, exasperated, “Who cares
why
I
’
m offering you the part? The important thing is that it
’
s yours, if you want it. And I
know
you want it,
Callie.”

“Really,” I laugh shortly, “You think you know what I want
all of a sudden?”

“Damned right I do,” Jack shoots back, setting down his
empty whiskey glass, “I know you had dreams of being an
actress
, Cal. And I know you never followed
through with them, even though you desperately wanted to.”

I stare back at him, trying to figure out if he
’
s bluffing. “How could you know a thing like that? Supposing,
hypothetically, it was true?” I pry.

“Please,” he laughs, rising to his feet, “With all the time
I spent at your house when we were kids, you honestly think I never noticed you
play-acting up in your room? Or all the scripts on your bookshelf? Or you looking
on all dreamy-eyed from the costume shop while we rehearsed the school plays?
You
’
re not that hard to read, Callie, no matter what you
might think.”

I take a sip of my drink, thankful that the low lights of
the penthouse are hiding the blush in my cheeks. He
’
s spot
on, of course. I did always dream about being an
actress
. I even tried to be one, for a hot
second after college. I had no idea he was paying that much attention to me,
when we were kids. I figured he only had eyes for Avery, most of the time.

“It just seems wrong, is all,” I mutter, gazing down at my
feet as Jack takes a step toward me. I can feel my thighs clenching
involuntarily as he moves closer to me. My mind may be upset with Jack, but my
body is having a grand old time being alone with him. 

“Why would it be wrong?” he asks, his voice quiet and husky.
I watch his fine leather shoes come to a stop just in front of mine, lift my
eyes tentatively to his gorgeous face. He
’
s standing right
there before me, close enough to touch. Close enough to kiss.

“Because I don
’t...I don’
t...” I
stammer, feeling my breath catch in my chest. “
I don’
t
deserve it, Jack.”

For the first time this evening, for perhaps the first time
since I
’
ve known him, Jackson Cole actually looks shocked.

“You don
’
t think you deserve...what?”
he asks, placing his hands firmly on my bare shoulders. “You don
’
t
deserve a shot at being successful? You don
’
t deserve to
have some fun for once in your life? You don
’
t deserve to be
happy?”

Every inch of my skin that Jack touches is sparking with
electric heat. I stare up into his dark blue eyes, laid bare by his intense
gaze. How can he possibly see me so clearly—my every ambition and insecurity
alike? Before yesterday, it had been years since we
’
d seen
each other last. And yet, standing here alone with him, with the most important
decision of my life hanging in the balance, I feel like he knows me better than
anyone ever has.

I feel like I can
trust
him.

“This is insane,” I whisper, draining the last of my vodka
tonic. The room has started to spin ever-so-slightly. Probably should have done
something about dinner before downing three cocktails, I suppose.

Jack takes my empty glass and sets it down, bringing his
hands once more to my shoulders. His fingers run down the length of my bare
arms, and I can only pray that he doesn
’
t notice the
goosebumps that spring up in their wake. I focus on his sexy, crooked grin to
keep from falling over. Between the vodka and the insistent want throbbing
between my legs at his closeness, I
’
m feeling a bit
overwhelmed, here.

“What
’
s insane is going through your
whole life thinking you don
’
t deserve anything good,” he
says, his voice low and rasping with earnest intensity. “Living without risk,
without going after what you want with or without permission.
That
’
s
insane to me, Cal.”

“What are you, some kind of guru all of a sudden?” I ask, my
own voice dipping low in my register.

“No,” Jack admits, his grin growing wider, “But I have
played one on TV.”

I laugh at his hammy turn of phrase. Jack
’
s
always known how to lighten up even the heaviest moments. It
’
s
one of the things I love about him. One of the many things.

“Jack,” I say softly, lifting my eyes to his once more, “It
isn
’
t that I don
’
t think I could do a
good job with this role. I
’
ve always loved telling
stories, acting, and awesome pulpy noir flicks. It would be amazing to be a
part of a real film. I mean, of
course
it would.
But do you really think this—
me stepping in
—is what Avery
would have wanted?”

Jack
’
s grin falls away, as an
expression as serious as I
’
ve ever seen him wear comes
over his stunning face. He takes my hands firmly in his, and I feel like his
support is the only thing holding me up.

“I do,” he tells me, point-blank. “I think that, if Avery
could put in her two cents here, she would absolutely want you to take this
opportunity. But you know something? That
’
s still beside
the point. The most important thing is whether
you
want this. It has to
come down to you.”

“B-but,”
I stutter.

“
No
‘buts
’
,”
he says fiercely. “No excuses. You have to decide what you want, Callie. Come
on, now. What do you want?”

Before I can stop myself, I
’
ve brought
my hands to Jack
’
s firm, sculpted chest. My entire body is
aching to give in, fold up into his arms and let him sweep me away into a life
of glamour, and comfort, and absolutely earth-shattering sex. What do I want,
above all else? In this moment, what I want is to be with
him
. Whatever
that entails.

I feel Jack
’
s hands skirt down the
sides of my trembling body, coming to rest firmly on the points of my hips. I
’
m pressed flush against his perfectly balanced form, exactly
where I want to be. It would be so easy to lift my face to his, give myself
over to whatever this night could hold in store. But as much as I want him with
every cell in my body, I know that I can
’
t have him
tonight. Not if I don
’
t want to ruin twenty-six years of
friendship and possibly the next phase of my life. Not three drinks in, steeped
in grief, and in the middle of an argument.

Not like this.

“What I want,” I finally manage to say, taking a reluctant
step away from his incredible body, “Is a little time to think.”

Jack hangs onto me for just a second longer than seems
entirely chaste, reading my face like an open book. Finally, he begins to nod,
satisfied by my response.

“OK,” he says slowly, that signature grin returning, “That I
can deal with.”

“How generous of you,” I chuckle bashfully, taking a dizzy
step toward the couch. I plunk down onto the buttery soft leather, the booze
hitting me hard. “Hey...D
’
you mind if I take these things
off?” I ask, kicking my stiletto-clad feet.

“
Be my guest,
” Jack chuckles, sinking
down next to me on the couch.

I nudge the heels off my feet, groaning with delight as my
toes are liberated. That heated moment that passed between me and Jack was
barely more than an embrace, but I feel as giddy as if we just rolled out of
the sack together. I pay instantly for imagining Jack in bed with a sweeping
surge of lust that leaves me hastily crossing my legs.