Getting It Right This Time (13 page)

And it felt bloody fantastic.

Pushing away from the window, he strode to his desk and sat down in the high-backed leather chair. His desk resembled a river of broken pink post-it notes. Liam, his personal assistant mumbled something about Mark “being late” and “not knowing he’d had a personality transplant” when he’d arrived. And then Liam had not so subtly mentioned the office phone had been ringing since he’d arrived at eight o’clock, when Mark hadn’t arrived until ten. Mark bit back a laugh. It felt great to ruffle a few feathers in such a different way than in the business ruthlessness he was used to.

Pulling back his shoulders, Mark forced his grin into submission and picked up the first post-it note. The words remained unread. With the note forgotten in his hands, he leaned back in his chair as his mind filled with thoughts of seeing Jessica for the first time. When Kate pulled her from the car seat, his heart shifted inside his chest. She had the same soft, auburn hair as her mother, the same high cheekbones and porcelain skin.

Rachel Brimble

63

Throughout the time he’d thought about Kate and James, not once did he allow the possibility of them being parents to enter his mind. Tormenting visions of her in bed with his best friend was bad enough, the idea of her committing her entire life to James and their baby was a step too far for Mark to deal with. So he’d shut it out. Refused to acknowledge them as anything more than a dating couple.

But now? Now everything was different. With a curt shake of his head, he turned his attention back to the note, confident there would be a future with both Kate and Jessica. He knew things would have to be taken down a gear until Jessica was comfortable with a new man in her mother’s life, but he was happy to do whatever was necessary. A satisfying warmth spread through his chest.

All he wanted now was the two most beautiful girls in Foxton to become a permanent fixture in his previous solitary life.

A sharp rap on the door startled him from his daydream. Sitting up straight in the chair, Mark cleared his throat. His mind immediately focused and clear. The business day had begun.

“Come in.”

“Good morning, Mark.”

“Marcia.” He smiled and pushed himself to his feet. “How are you?”

She didn’t answer him as she turned to shut the door. Mark resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. Clearly, she wasn’t here in a mode of joy and happiness. He walked around the desk to greet her as she came toward him. He held out his arms, and they briefly embraced before he gestured toward the visitor’s chair.

“You look wonderful. I assume the debacle with the press the other night hasn’t rattled you any further?”

“Of course not,” she said, sitting down and smoothing her hand over her white Calvin Klein trousers. “Why would it affect me if it’s your blood they’re after?”

Mark narrowed his eyes as he studied the back of her perfectly coifed head. What was she up to? He knew Marcia possessed a deep and ingrained yearning for success. Hell, he wouldn’t have taken her on as a client if she didn’t--but this? This blatant resentment he’d not expected from her or any of his clients. He managed their careers--it didn’t give them the right to condemn his personal life. Irritation simmered in his belly. Pulling his face into the most placating expression he could muster, Mark walked around the desk and sat down.

“Mmm, you mentioned something about that before, didn’t you?” he said quietly.

She snapped her head up to look at him, her eyes wide. “Is that all you’re going to say?

Doesn’t it bother you what Underwood is implying about you and Kate?” She paused, lowered her gaze. “How is she, by the way?”

His hackles rose unexpectedly. He didn’t care for her tone. Clinging to his sliver of remaining patience, he sunk his fingers into his thighs, the hard muscles serving as a perfect resistance against his sudden need to hurt something.

“She’s great, why?”

64

Getting It Right This Time

Marcia didn’t look at him, only brushed another hand down her thigh. “I just wondered, that’s all. She didn’t look very pleased to have me interrupt your…date.”

He noticed her hand trembled as it hovered at her thigh. “Kate’s fine, Marcia. She completely understands why you called me after seeing the media mob for herself. She’s a compassionate woman. She empathizes with a lot of people and a lot of situations, you have her sympathy.”

She snapped her head up. “Sympathy? I don’t want her sympathy.”

“No? Then what do you want?”

A flash of color darkened her cheeks. “You, Mark. I want you.”

His stomach rolled. “What?”

She met his eyes and grinned. “Look at your face! Not like that, silly. I want you to do what you take fifteen percent of my money to do.”

Feeling nauseous, Mark leaned his elbows on his desk. “And you think I’m not?”

“No. Not anymore.”

He closed his eyes and silently counted to three before opening them again. “Marcia, I am dedicated to you and all my clients. Tell me what it is you think I should have done? You know as well as I do, when you’re up the press will try their damnedest to bring you down. Which means when they’re following you, you’re up.”

Her smile was colder than Antarctica. “And are you up, Mark, or me?”

He dropped his hands. “You and me. Is that so bad? Can’t we both be happy? I’m your agent, a Marcia, and as far as I’m concerned, I’m doing a good job. You’re debuting on a stage tread by some of the greatest names in theatre, you’re opening every exclusive club, restaurant, and clothing boutique known to man. Your existing fans are staying faithful and new ones are discovering you every day. What else do you want?”

The long silence bore down on Mark’s nerves, snapping the remainder of his patience. He refused to allow her to do this--to ruin the euphoria of being with Kate again. His life felt better than ever and now Marcia was doing her best diva impression. He pursed his lips together. She would answer his question.

She leapt to her feet, her blue eyes flashing fire. “Nothing, Mark. I don’t want anything else from you. You’re right, you are doing a great job but I thought if I appealed to your work ethic, you might see sense.”

He glared at her. “About what?”

“Underwood,” she snapped.

He laughed. “Underwood? God, I can handle him. What’s he got to do with anything?”

She gave an inelegant sniff. “I don’t see why I should tell you after the way you’ve spoken to me, do you?”

Rachel Brimble

65

Mark got to his feet and pressed his curled fists against the desk top. He leaned his weight forward. “I’m not an idiot, and I don’t appreciate being taken for one. Underwood and I have a history. So what? The guy has hated my guts ever since I turned him down for an exclusive with three clients in a row. Tough shit. What is making you come back and forth to my office like this, what are you so damn afraid of?”

Their gazes locked. Her breasts rose and fell with each ragged breath. “If you have to ask me that...”

“We are a team. We are building your career, and I will continue to work with you. As long as you trust me to do my job. If you haven’t got the confidence I will do my best for you, then you’re better off seeking alternative representation.”

She flinched. “What?”

“You heard me. I won’t have you doubting my capabilities.”

“But Underwood…”

“Is a moron. I have no problem sleeping at night knowing I didn’t hand him an easy hundred grand on a plate. If he wants to walk around with a camera like it’s an extension of his dick, let him. If he wants to wave it in my face at every opportunity, let him.”

“But don’t you see what you’re doing?” she cried. “They see us as a dynamic team, Mark.

We’re perfect together, and now Kate’s come into your life…”

The anger in his belly flared to his chest. Kate. His Kate. His Jessica. He swallowed hard.

“Listen to me. She is part of my life,” he said, quietly. “Underwood better watch out that his dick isn’t snapped clean off, because Kate was not born with my patience. She won’t accept the paparazzi as part of her world. I do. You do. We bought into this way of life. So stop worrying about Kate, she can look after herself...but if it should turn out she needs help, I’ll crush Underwood like the ant he is.”

Another tense moment passed before Mark’s shoulders relaxed when she finally waved her hand in defeat. “Fine. I’ll trust you have it under control.”

“Good. I don’t ask for anything else,” Mark said, carefully watching her, not confident he’d won quite yet. His experience held an encyclopedic weight, and stars of Marcia’s caliber and conduct were rarely pacified so easily.

She slowly sat back down and flashed him a smile. “Good, because I want you to look over a few changes to the script I want incorporated. I cannot get the writer to understand what I am saying at all.”

He sat and intertwined his fingers in front of him on the desk. Actors versus writers, the age-old battle. He held up his hands.

“Okay, well, I’ll have a look over it, but in most cases the writer--”

“You will? Great,” she said, sitting forward in her seat, her hands clasped together in her lap. “But I haven’t brought them with me, damn. Would you be able to spare me an hour or two this evening? Maybe come to my apartment and we’ll have a drink?”

66

Getting It Right This Time

He gauged the woman in front of him and wondered how long she had been planning this particular set-up. She was sadly mistaken if she thought she could play him like a puppet on a very short string.

He returned her smile. “I can--”

She clapped. “Perfect. If you come round at sevenish—”

“If you don’t mind Kate coming along too?” Mark said. “I’ve already arranged to see her later, and that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

A moment of silence passed before Marcia smiled widely. “Of course not,” she said, with a beaming smile. “It will give us a chance to get to know each other. Oh, and make sure she knows I’d love to meet Jessica if she’d like to come too.”

Bam! There it was. Mark had instinctively known the other shoe would drop. Like a phantom looming overhead, he’d felt its eerie presence cloaked around Marcia’s shoulders the minute she’d walked in the room.

“How did you know about Jessica?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.

Her smile faltered. “I’m sorry. Aren’t I supposed to know?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, finding it hard to keep looking at the client he’d liked so much just a few short days ago. Now it seemed Marcia was making it her business to destroy the modicum of a love life he finally had in his life.

“Don’t apologize, Marcia. Just answer the question.”

“Mike Underwood told me.”

He snapped his eyes open. “He knows about Jessica? Shit!” He slammed his fist on the desk and shot to his feet. “And what exactly does he intend to do with that information? Has he told you?”

She stood up, her bottom lip trembling. “Why on earth would he, for goodness sake? You are beginning to worry me, Mark. You’re like a different person since Kate Marshall turned up.”

He stared at her, tried to slow his thundering heart. “I’ve changed? Maybe I have. But in a good way. A damn good way.”

“Well, I disagree. If being with her is making you as volatile as this, maybe you should reconsider pursuing the relationship.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Fine. I’m out of here. I need a drink.”

She turned and marched toward the door.

Mark let her go.

Once the door slammed behind her, he paced the office floor like a caged animal. The thought of Underwood knowing about Jessica stabbed at his gut. He was encroaching on territory Mark hadn’t had the opportunity to explore yet. The man was pond scum. And Mark would do anything and everything to keep him far away from Kate and her little girl. Anything.

Rachel Brimble

67

Trepidation swirled like a gathering tornado in his head. If Kate felt Jessica was in any sort of danger, she would be out of his life before he had time to kiss her goodbye.

“Bastard.”

He pressed his thumb and forefinger into his forehead over and over. Damn it, damn it, damn it! He’d lied to Marcia--he wasn’t seeing Kate later, even though he’d wanted to. When he’d suggested they go out to dinner, she’d laughed and explained if he intended to be with her and Jess, there would be no more jetting off around the world at a moment’s notice, no more exclusive restaurants and movie premieres--instead nights sharing pizza in front of the TV, watching Disney DVDs or making models out of tissue paper and cardboard. Mark dropped his hand from his head and smiled. And that reality hadn’t felt suffocating, it felt liberating.

There was no way in hell Underwood, Marcia or anyone else was going to ruin what his future held--no way in hell.

Whipping his jacket from the back of the chair, he strode across the length of the office to the door. It suddenly occurred to him Underwood was around at every photo opportunity lately. A coincidence? Mark thought not. He marched through his office floor, oblivious to the concerned stares of his staff or the hailing of his personal assistant, Liam. He pressed the button for the ground floor when he reached the lift, his jaw clenching and unclenching. Underwood was clearly getting tip offs from a source close to home, and Mark had a horrible suspicion the person laying out the welcoming mat was the one and only Marcia Langton. And if his suspicions were confirmed….the pair of them better run for cover.

Chapter 8

On the High Street, situated between a funeral parlor and a florist sat the offices of
The Foxton
Gazette
. The place wasn’t so much offices as a converted shop. The way Underwood carried on, you’d think he’d hit his journalistic pinnacle but the guy was nothing more than a two-bit local reporter with illusions of grandeur. Mark pulled the car into an available space right outside and cut the engine. He took a moment in the hope the throbbing at his temple might ease, and contemplated the convenience of the newspaper’s neighbors.