Falling for Mister Wrong (18 page)

Landing right on top of him.

“
Will
.” His name was meant to be a
scold, but came out more of a breathy gasp. All that muscle. All
that hard, contained strength spread out beneath her. God, he felt
incredible
. The sound of her own thoughts was being drowned
out by her hormones screaming the Ode to Joy.

“Distracted?” he rumbled sexily, his chest
vibrating where it pressed against hers.

“From what?”

His smile was dark and deliciously
promising.

She was in so much trouble.

Chapter
Twenty

She blinked down at him from a distance of
inches, those big blue eyes consuming his focus. She was lighter
than he remembered as she lay stretched out on top of him, her
strong, slim arms trapped between them and her long, slender
fingers flexing on his pectorals as if she wasn’t quite sure what
to do with them—or maybe she was just enjoying the feel. She
certainly wasn’t fighting to get away.

If anything, she was leaning into him. All
big dazed eyes and lush inviting lips.

“We aren’t in public,” he murmured. He knew
she couldn’t publicly date, but it was just the two of them
tonight. No one had to know. Was it really anyone else’s business
but their own?

She said his name again, but this time
instead of a breathy invitation, it was a low reprimand.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and pushed away,
nearly giving him an appendectomy with her elbow as she awkwardly
disentangled herself.

He put a hand on her hip to help and she
released another breathy little whisper of a gasp. He let her go
and she scrambled back on the couch, all but vibrating with
tension, and he realized he wasn’t going to get that lazy, easy
companionship back. At least not tonight.

The credits were rolling on Sean Connery
anyway.

“I should go. I’ve got five kindergartners at
eight thirty tomorrow morning. They’ll run roughshod over me if I
don’t get some sleep.”

“Right, of course,” Caitlyn said, still not
meeting his eyes as he came to his feet.

“Play me a lullaby?”

That got her attention. “What?”

“I love listening to you play. I only brought
you brownies to butter you up so you’d take requests.”

A flicker of a smile teased her lips. “I knew
you had ulterior motives.”

“It’s all about the
Pathetique
.”

“The
Pathetique
?”

“The Beethoven sonata?” He hummed a few
bars.

“No. I know which one it is. I play it all
the time.”

“I know. It’s my favorite. Play it for me?”
She hesitated and he shrugged off the request, not wanting to push
her tonight. “Some other time. G’night, Caitlyn.”

“G’night, Will.”

#

“Do you have any idea how many times in the
last week I’ve almost kissed Will?”

Mimi squealed with unabashed delight. Caitlyn
had only waited until she heard Will’s door shut downstairs before
diving for the phone, needing a dose of sanity. Though maybe she
should have called someone else. Mimi didn’t sound terribly
sane.

“Why haven’t you? Go for it, girl!”

“I can’t go for it. I can’t have
relationships, remember? Reality television? Bajillion dollar
lawsuits?”

And that didn’t even touch on the fact of
Daniel. Her fiancé. She was
engaged.
Even if she didn’t feel
engaged. Even if she was starting to wonder if she even liked
Daniel,
he
didn’t know that and he deserved her fidelity for
as long as they were together. Even if they couldn’t physically be
together.

God, what a mess.

“So have a stealth relationship,” Mimi
encouraged. “No one has to know.”

“Yes,” Caitlyn said dryly. “Because I’m so
good at secrets and deception. That sounds like a
brilliant
idea.”

“I’m detecting a note of sarcasm.”

“Well spotted,” she said, mimicking a British
conductor she and Mimi had played for.

“Fine, don’t be secret lovers—though
come
on
, how often do you have a chance to enjoy the delicious
hidden lover scenario without actually betraying anyone?”

But I would be betraying someone
.
Caitlyn sank down on the piano bench, thunking her forehead down on
the key-cover.

“If you can’t enjoy him now, think of it as
foreplay,” Mimi said. “All that sexual tension, building up, oooh,
mama. By the time you can actually jump him, the two of you will be
so primed you’ll go off like rockets.”

She was already primed.

Caitlyn groaned. “I need to stop this. Right
now. I’m leading him on.”

And the hell of it was, she wasn’t even sure
whether she was referring to Daniel or Will when she said that.

“He’s a big boy. He understands the
situation. It’s not leading him on if it’s his call to stick
around. And, Caitlyn, I know you have relationship issues the size
of the Titanic, but, baby, you are
worth the wait
. So even
if you can’t ride him like a naughty cowgirl just yet, don’t
sabotage things by shoving him away. You wanted the guy, the
family, and the picture perfect home life, right? And it’s my job
as your friend to smack some sense into you when you try to screw
up your chance at that. Hang onto Will. He’s a good egg. He’ll wait
until the show is done.”

Yes, but will he understand when he watches
me accept another man’s proposal?

“I’ve gotta go, Mimi.”

“Don’t be stupid!” Mimi said in lieu of
goodbye.

Caitlyn turned off the phone and set it on
top of the piano, sliding back the key cover. She let her fingers
roam, too confused to even try to figure out what piece would suit
her mood. She tried not to read anything into it when she realized
her hands had just naturally begun to move through the opening
chords of the
Pathetique
. Just one of the mysteries of the
universe.

#

The flowers arrived on Monday morning. Two
dozen gigantic ruby red roses. The sender was listed as Miranda,
but the card was all gushing apology. Daniel.

Caitlyn put them in water and hid them up out
of sight in the loft, where they would raise fewer questions from
her students. She always shut the ringers off her phones while she
taught, and by the end of the day’s lessons, she had over a dozen
missed calls on the MMP phone. Only two from Daniel. The rest from
a number she didn’t recognize. Four new voicemail messages. She was
about to listen to them when the phone lit up—still on silent mode,
but alerting her to a new call.

Miranda.

“Hey, boss lady.”

Miranda didn’t bother with a greeting. “I
hear you’ve been dodging the wedding planner’s calls all day.”

“I’ve been teaching all day. And you told me
not to take calls on this phone from anyone other than you and
Daniel.”

“Oh. Right. My mistake. I gave the wedding
planner your number. Please take her calls so she stops harassing
me about cake flavors. I don’t even like cake.”

“I thought everyone liked cake.”

Miranda ignored the comment. “You’re okay?
Everything’s good?”

I’m thinking of calling off the wedding,
which would alleviate the questions about cake
. “I got the
roses.”

She could almost hear Miranda’s frown.
“Someone sent you roses?”

“I thought you knew. The sender used your
office address.”

Miranda groaned. “Please tell me Daniel
didn’t send you roses from my address. That idiot. I’m going to
have to kick the shit out of him.”

“I take it these were not sanctioned
roses.”

“Of course not. Now I’m going to have to send
diversion roses to several of the other girls just so it doesn’t
look suspicious. That dumbass. Tell him to stop trying to be so
disgustingly romantic. That’s my job.”

Caitlyn snorted. “He was begging forgiveness,
actually.”

“A little early for that, isn’t it? The
episode doesn’t air until tomorrow night.”

Caitlyn snapped to attention. “What’s on
tomorrow’s episode?”

“Oh.” Miranda groaned. “I am really off my
game today. Look, sweetie, just remember what I said. It’s never as
bad as it looks.”

“What does it look like?”

“Flirtation, mostly. He was a little bit of a
kissing slut, but that’s part of the show and you knew that going
in.”

“Oh.” She tried to feel jealous, but mostly
just felt tired. So her fiancé was going to make out with the world
tomorrow. How delightful.

“What was he apologizing for?”

“He leaked the fire story to TMZ.”

Miranda cursed. “I really am going to have to
kick his ass.”

“I thought you’d appreciate the
publicity.”

“We have a team of people who very carefully
handle releasing stories like that. Daniel knows better than to run
around leaking material to any old gossip rag. Or at least he
should. His job is to be perfect. Our job is to control his image
and the image of the show and all the girls on it. Including you.
Don’t talk to the press without talking to me first, Caitlyn.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good girl. I’ll tear Daniel a new one. You
just keep on being lovely. And maybe consider not watching tomorrow
night.”

“I’ll take it under advisement.”

#

Miranda stared down at her phone after she
hung up with Caitlyn, wondering when, exactly, she’d become so
shitty at her job. Mister Perfect was leaking stories. His fiancé
sounded like she was inches away from calling off the wedding. The
wedding planner was driving Miranda up the wall with constant
questions about how strict the budget for the Wedding of the Year
really was. And she couldn’t seem to focus.

And it was only week three.

Tomorrow’s episode would be explosive. It was
supposed to be. They were still in the scandalous and scintillating
part of the show when cat fights and teary breakdowns kept the
audience’s attention while America slowly but surely fell in love
with the favorites. The romantic portion of the show came later.
The first few weeks were all cheap entertainment.

She usually loved this part. Miranda was an
expert at giving the crazy girls their fifteen minutes of fame
while showing the sweet and lovely sides of the girls who would
make it to the end.

The problem was Daniel. If she wasn’t careful
the audience was going to start rooting against him, and as soon as
they did, Miranda had a feeling Caitlyn would too.

So much for happy endings.

“Miranda, Bennett Lang for you.”

“Take a message,” she snapped.

“Um…” Todd, usually so self-assured,
hesitated over the intercom. “He’s
here
.”

Her heart rate tripled from one beat to the
next.

Shit. If he was there, he’d just heard her
crack assistant tell her he was there. Which mean she couldn’t hide
underneath her desk and pretend she was out.

Maybe he’s here to apologize
.

“And demons are ice-skating in Hell,” she
muttered to herself. Then depressed the intercom. “Send him
in.”

She stood, smoothing her pencil skirt,
wishing stupidly that she’d worn a pant suit, as if that would
somehow be better armor against him. She didn’t want to look
feminine. Not when he made her feel so damn girly.

The great Bennett Lang walked into the room
like he owned it, but then when you’d been King of Reality
Television for as long as he had, you pretty much entered every
room that way. Tall, handsome, and lean—with the body of a marathon
runner, which he was. His full head of dark hair was showing more
and more silver these days, but it worked for him. He looked like
he could have been a newscaster, with that same sort of
distinguished gravitas.

She’d been awed by him from the second she
met him, back when she was green and eager.

Now she just wanted to kick him. Preferably
in the balls.

“Miranda, you’re looking well.”

She glowered at him as the door clicked shut
behind him. “Really? That’s what you’re going to open with?
Pleasantries? Then by all means.” She waved him to the chair
opposite her desk and sank back into her own. “You look to be in
good health also. Did you run a satisfactory time in the New York
Marathon?”

He frowned, seating himself in the chair
she’d indicated and adjusting his cuffs, carefully ignoring her
sarcasm. “You won’t take my calls.”

“You won’t leave a message.”

“Still angry, I see.”

“Still patronizing, I see.”

“Miranda.”

She fisted her hands in her lap, where he
couldn’t see them. “Don’t scold me, Bennett. You don’t get to come
to my office and scold me.”

He cursed under his breath. “This isn’t how I
envisioned this meeting.”

“Funny, this is pretty much exactly how I
figured it would go down.”

She’d been head over heels for him, declared
her freaking
love
for him and he was still trying to mold
her into what he wanted her to be—like he was still her mentor
rather than her lover. That wasn’t what she wanted from him. Not
anymore. But wanting him to actually engage his heart was an
unwinnable war. There was probably a picture of thrice-divorced
Bennett Lang next to “Emotionally Unavailable” in the
dictionary.

“This is ridiculous.” Bennett stood abruptly,
rounding her desk.

“What are you doing?” She ignored the way her
heart leapt as she jumped to her feet and retreated—hating to give
up ground, but needing the distance.

“I miss you.” He continued to stalk her.

“Deal with it.” She continued to retreat.

“I’m trying to.”

“Good. I know a good therapist if you—”

“I have a job for you.”

Her feet stopped moving as all of her lust
coalesced into anger. God damn it. This again. The man
could not
learn
. “I
have
a job, dickhead.”