Read Love 'Em: A Bad Boy Romance Online
Authors: Kelley Harvey
Love 'Em: A Bad Boy Romance
Copyright 2016 by Kelley Harvey
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the
author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to persons,
living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No scenes in this book are meant to be emulated. If
a reader chooses to do so, it is at their own risk. This author takes no
responsibility for any person’s actions.
For women who love idiot men and
for the women smart enough to not love idiots.
My brand new shoes bite into the back of my heels and squish
my toes. I fill a paper cup with water and set it aside without ingesting so
much as a sip.
Shayna takes my elbow as I pass by for the fifteenth time.
“For Christ’s sake, sit down. I wasn’t nervous until
you
started
pacing.”
I press my finger to the twitch at the corner of my left
eye. “This is going to be a disaster. I know it.”
“It’ll be fine. Relax.” My best friend for the last three
years fluffs my corkscrew curls around my shoulders and grasps my upper arms.
“A live studio audience will be good. I promise. You’ll be so happy you did
this.”
“Somehow I doubt it. Why couldn’t you have kept your mouth
shut when Sam called?” Blah blah blah, that’s what she did. Info dump right
into my agent’s ear, and that was the cannonball on the catapult that shot me straight
to the gates of Hell.
Shayna was the first to be invited on the show, and after
she talked to Sam, I got a call too.
Shay whirls me around to face a blank wall. She holds her
hand up as if she’s painting a scene. “Picture this: You’ll sell a million
books, and then you can take me to Cancun. We’ll sip fruity drinks with tiny
umbrellas, delivered to us on golden trays by hot cabana boys who don’t speak our
language. We’ll say the rudest things and smile and still get laid at the end
of the day.”
A smile pulls up the corner of my mouth even as I rub the
ache between my eyebrows. “If you say so. Let’s just hope Jackson Tremaine is
feeling charitable tonight.”
She sticks her tongue out. “Jackson Tremaine can go fuck
himself.”
I straighten her platinum blonde, not-quite-human-hair wig
and tip her bug-eye sunglasses down enough to stare into her baby blues. “You think
all men should go fuck themselves. You know, most of them want the same things we
want. To be loved. To be respected. You just have to give them a chance.”
“Every year, I offer about a hundred of them a ‘chance’. All
but three have failed, and those already belonged to other women.” Shay quirks
her auburn eyebrow. Good thing the shades hide the dead giveaway that she isn’t
really a blonde bombshell.
A sad sigh escapes before I can catch it. “I’m so sorry,
sweetie, but maybe you need to consider another career path?”
Even though her eyes are hidden again, it’s as though I hear
them rolling.
“Thanks for the advice, but I make an
excellent
living in my current line of work. As much as I love you, Ronnie, you and I have
two different philosophies when it comes to men. I’m good with that.”
A petite woman pops into the room. “Ladies, he’s going to
bring you out one at a time, starting with you, Ronnie. In five.”
My stomach grabs hold of my esophagus and trembles as the
second hand ticks away the moments. My first live appearance on television is
tying me into knots.
Appearing on the
Up Late with Jackson Tremaine
show
should be a boon, but it’s probably going to blow up in my face. Like a big fat
dirty bomb. Lights out.
My instinct says that he’s a shark and I’m a guppy. He’s going
to chew me up and spit me out. That’s if I’m lucky, and he doesn’t swallow me whole.
No. I won’t let him. He’s a man, like all the other men I’ve
studied since I was twelve and Dad skipped out on my overbearing, never-to-be-pleased
mother. If she’d have shown him some love and compassion, he’d have stayed. I’m
sure of it.
I have to remember that about Jackson. Underneath his Armani
suits and Rolex watches, he wants the same things as everyone else—respect and love.
That’s all. Show him some respect, and he’ll return the favor. And, after tonight,
I can move on and watch my book sales skyrocket as I ring in the new year, and
my bank account will follow suit.
Shayna stands in front of the full length mirror in the
corner and applies a fresh coat of the blood-red lipstick she purchased
specifically for tonight. “Can you tell that it’s me?”
I rub my finger along my bottom lip. “Well,
I
can tell
it’s you, but I’d know you with a bag on your head. That sassy sway of your
hips and the way you talk with your hands would give it away. But, I think you’re
all right. Most people don’t pay that close of attention. I’m certain your
secret’s safe.”
“I only want to ensure my potential clients can be assured
that their unsuspecting, cheating bastards won’t know what’s coming when I make
my move.”
I shake my head. “One of these days, Shay—”
“I know. I know.” She brings her tone up an octave,
mimicking me. “‘One of these days, you’re going to meet the man of your dreams.
You’re going to read my book. You’ll fall in love. And wah,wah, fucking wah.’
Save it, Rons. I am perfectly happy with my life. I’ll let you do the loving.
I’ll stick with
fuck and release
, thank you.”
Offstage, the silent monitor flickers in the dark. On
screen, two insanely gorgeous men smile at a shared joke and holiday lights
twinkle in the background. The host tidies his stack of note cards, tapping
them on the desk and tucking the one at the front behind the others.
Jackson’s voice has a velvet covered rasp, even sexier in
person than on television. “Eleven days to Christmas, and a brand new year
waits just around the corner. Many will make and break resolutions. How about
those resolutions to find love or dump a dead weight relationship?”
His smile widens as he holds up his hands, trying to calm the
masses as they cheer.
When the crowd quiets, he says, “The ladies who make up this
duo are actually very
best
friends. The livelihood of both women depends
on love, in one capacity or another. I call them
Love ‘Em
and
Leave
‘Em
, if that tells you anything at all about their respective career
fields.”
He brushes his fingers through chocolate-colored hair.
“Let’s meet
Love ‘Em
first. How many of you gals have your eye on a man who
seems to stay just out of reach, or one who doesn’t want to commit?”
Someone in the audience cat-calls about her guy.
“And we’re
glad
you’ve got a man who’s hung like King
Kong.” Jackson answers the bawdy lady while he winks at the camera. “Anyway, our
next guest thinks she knows men.
Love ‘Em
’s got us all figured out and
has put her wealth of knowledge into book form.”
My stomach takes a plunge to my feet. Here we go.
He holds up my book and exchanges a knowing look with his
first guest as he stands. “This guide for women is
supposed
to help you
ladies catch and keep your dream lovers. Please welcome the author of
Decode
the Man in Your Life
, Ronnie Fitz.”
The handler ushers me toward the stage’s side entrance.
“Watch—”
Applause drowns out whatever he’s saying as I clear the edge
of the royal blue curtain. The clipboard-wielding guy gives me a shove toward Jackson
Tremaine who waits three feet ahead with his hand held out in greeting.
Jackson has the clearest sage green eyes I’ve ever seen,
dark around the edges but almost white at their center. They crinkle at the
corners as he smiles at me, sending my heart into an abnormal rhythm. The hand
he holds out to me waves me out, drawing me to him like a—
Something grabs my ankle. Crap. A cable running across the
floor is wrapped over my beautiful new shoe. I try to compensate with my other
foot, but it makes it worse. I stumble forward, losing my balance as my plastered-on
smile falters. Instead of shaking his hand, I fall against Jackson Tremaine’s muscular
chest.
Strong arms come around me, pulling me up and tight against him.
His scent, something like sandalwood and cinnamon, envelopes me. His laugh
vibrates through my breasts, now pressed firmly against his pecs.
The audience goes bat-shit wild with applause.
Oh my—Hell. In Hell. Right now. This can’t be happening.
Mr. Tremaine hangs on tight until the crowd quiets.
“Well, that’s a
great
start to a new relationship. But
I’m afraid I’m happy in my bachelorhood, Ms. Fitz.” He sets me away from him,
adjusting first his tie and then his junk right in front of God and everybody.
Heat floods my face, and I don’t know where to look. “Oh, I’m—so
sorry. I tripped.”
He tosses a sly look at the closest camera. “No worries. I don’t
mind at all. I enjoy a beautiful woman in my arms any time—but only for a
short
time.”
Jackson takes my hand, sending tingles up my arm. “I’ll hold
on to you until we get you safely into your seat.”
He leads me to the chair between guest number one and the side
of the desk.
Jackson stage whispers to the other man. “Be careful of this
one, Bax.
Love ‘Em
’s quite a handful.”
Casino mogul Baxter Ransom nods as he offers his hand. “Nice
to meet you, Ms. Fitz.”
I do the best I can to swallow my embarrassment. “Likewise.”
Jackson returns to his seat. “So, Ronnie—you don’t mind if I
call you that? You’ve put together this
instruction manual
, if you will,
for women.”
I brush my wild curls away from my face with trembling
fingers. “I suppose you could call it that. It’s really only common sense
things that most of us already know but fail to put into practice in our
everyday lives.”
“I read the book last night—well, parts of it—and I’m not
convinced.”
The lead weight in my gut grows.
No, it’s okay. He’s playing Devil’s Advocate. It’s his job.
“Oh? What part do you need help with?” I smile, but inside
my heart is shriveling into a raisin.
He’s making me out to look a fool, and no one is going to buy
my book by the time he’s done with me.
He leans back in his chair, propping his feet on his desk.
“Well, this whole idea that a woman can get the guy she wants, simply by
showing him deference and respect…”
I take a quick breath, heat simmering in my stomach. Dumbass
is twisting my words. “I didn’t say
deference
.”
He laces his fingers across his flat belly. “Oh, maybe I read
that incorrectly. Don’t get me wrong. I like the idea of a woman who shows a man
respect. I don’t buy that it will get him to commit.”
The fire in my gut stirs. “Well, think about it, Mr.
Tremaine. What man doesn’t want the woman in his life to tell him how amazing
he is on a daily basis?”
I wait, but he just sits there, smugness poised on his too
handsome face. It’s as if he didn’t hear the question I asked.
“Well?” I prompt.
His eyebrows go up, fake surprise in his expression. “Oh,
that
wasn’t
rhetorical?”
No wonder he’s still single.
I let out a huff of air. “How many men get the respect they
want and deserve from the women who profess to love them? The principals in my book
all come down to one thing: men aren’t as complicated as ladies think they are.
They want love just like women do. The biggest difference is what they
perceive
as love.”
