Once Upon a Valentine (30 page)

“Of course,” Stephen said tightly. “Anything for you.”

The sarcasm he normally held back in business settings was out in full view and Ginger shot him another wary look. Stephen stood against the wall by the door, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked uncomfortable and troubled.

Suddenly, their eyes met and held.

No eye contact,
he’d warned earlier. It just made it more difficult for him.

She turned, only to be faced with Jorgensen right in front of her. He held the contract in his hand.

“Here it is,” he said, his gaze hopeful. “Do you have a pen?”

She swallowed hard. All it would take was a little flirting to get him to sign his John Hancock to the bottom line, but she didn’t think she could do it. Apart from it being morally wrong, he would be furious when he woke up tomorrow and realized he’d been taken advantage of. He’d probably think they’d gotten him drunk.

He could sue. And knowing him, he probably would.

“I think we should have that meeting tomorrow morning,” she said. “The one you weren’t interested in staying for. But I think it’s necessary. Stephen has a presentation ready for you that will prove that Red Fox is the right publisher for you and your books.”

Jorgensen flicked a look at Stephen. “You do?”

He nodded stiffly. “I do.”

“Impressive, Fox. Perhaps I’ll consider it, then. In the meantime, why don’t you give me and Ginger a little privacy?”

Stephen gave him a thin smile. “Not in a million years. I don’t trust you, Jorgensen. I know what you’re thinking and she’s not part of the deal.”

The author looked wounded. “How dare you. I meant that we’ll have a nice dinner. I ordered steak and lobster and a dessert of strawberries and whipped cream. I’m happy to share them with a beautiful woman.”

“Since I’m paying for that meal as well as this room, don’t I have the right to a taste?”

“No,” Jorgensen said bluntly. “Three’s a crowd. We want privacy.”

“Do you?” Stephen’s arms were crossed so tightly over his chest it looked painful. “And what about you? Do you want to stay?” he asked Ginger.

She grimaced. “I think I should call it a night.”

“Oh, come on,” Jorgensen said beseechingly. “Just an hour. I can’t believe I’ve never noticed how utterly delightful you are.”

Stephen grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the other man. “I said I’d protect you. I’m protecting you now.”

She gave him a look. “You think I’m tempted to stay right now? And even if I was, it’s not like I’d sleep with him.”

He looked confused. “You’re supposed to be with me, not this jerk.”

Worry moved through her. He was getting irrational, overreacting at the thought of her spending time alone with the author.

“Wait, who are you calling a jerk?” Jorgensen snapped.

“Wasn’t I clear?
You’re
a jerk.” Stephen’s eyes narrowed. “Actually, you’re a sanctimonious prick who thinks he runs the world. Guess what? You don’t. Sign that contract or don’t sign it, I don’t really care. But you’re not laying one goddamned finger on Ginger or I’m going to kick your ass from here to Manhattan.”

Ginger’s mouth hung open at Stephen’s tirade. Where had that come from? Out of nowhere, even though it was what she’d wanted him to say for months.

“You
need
me,” Jorgensen snapped. “That means I’m the one with the power here. And I want Ginger.”

“She doesn’t want you.”

“That could change.”

“Are you in love with her?” Stephen demanded.

“Love?” Jorgensen frowned. “I
want
her, isn’t that enough?”

He pulled her toward him and was about to force a kiss on her when Stephen grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.

Jorgensen pushed him. “Don’t touch me, Fox.”

“Or what?”

When Jorgensen shoved him harder this time, Stephen’s tense fist swung forward and connected with Jorgensen’s jaw, which shocked Ginger more than anything else that had happened tonight. She’d never see him throw a punch before.

He was surprisingly good at it.

Yup,
Ginger thought with a sinking feeling.
That should probably do it.

Jorgensen didn’t waste a great deal of time before he packed his suitcase. Then he made a very dramatic show of ripping up the contract into tiny white pieces, which he then tossed in Stephen’s general direction. They fluttered to the floor like confetti.

Then the bestselling author of the Blue Monster Mysteries walked out of the hotel room and slammed the door behind him without another glance in Ginger’s direction, snarling something about a personal-injury lawsuit.

She
knew
he’d be the type to sue if given half a chance.

Now it was Ginger who had her arms crossed. Stephen leaned against the wall as if it was the only thing supporting him vertically at the moment. His expression was bleak.

“So,” she said, “my suggestion of getting him to come to the meeting tomorrow so we could all approach the contract discussion from a calm and collected direction? Not really in your plans, huh?”

“Looks like.”

“You know what you’ve done, right?”

“Yeah, I think I defended your virtue.”

“My virtue?” She sighed. “Stephen, I’m thirty-two years old. My virtue hasn’t needed defending for longer than I care to admit.”

“He wanted to seduce you.”

“He was harmless. I can handle harmless.”

“It wasn’t cool. Not with me.”

She pointed at the door. “You need to go after him and apologize.”

He shot her a sharp look. “Never.”

“So you’re going to just take this lying down? I know you don’t generally talk about financials, but I’ve known for a while that Red Fox is in trouble.”

“We’ll manage. Jorgensen was a buffer, that’s all. A little cash in the bank. I can find new authors, new opportunities. This isn’t the end.” He broke off, his expression growing more grim.

She pointed at the door. “He needs to sign that contract. Now go after him and try to fix this.”

“No.”

She let out a muffled scream. “You are so infuriating!” She paced to the other side of the hotel and looked out the window to the city lights below, trying to breathe normally. “Okay, fine. He’s gone. Even if you talked to him right now, it probably wouldn’t make a huge difference at this point. We need to give him a little time to cool off, then we’ll call his agent and explain. Everything will be okay again.”

“Everything’s not okay.”

There was something in the way he said it, as if he wasn’t talking about the destroyed book deal anymore. She glanced over her shoulder at him. “What’s wrong?”

“That wasn’t me. I don’t lose control. Not like that. I just saw the way he was looking at you and I…reacted. I didn’t want any man to look at you like that. Only me.”

His words slid through her like warm water and she met his haunted eyes. “Stephen…what you’re feeling isn’t real. You know that, right?”

He avoided eye contact with her, frowning down at a spot on the carpet near the room-service cart. “When you got too close to him, I felt really—”

“Angry? Jealous?”

“
Possessive.
Like you’re supposed to be mine. I didn’t like imagining you with someone else. It makes me lose my mind.”

A shiver went through her at the low, sexy tone to his voice. “We should go to the café. We’re done with Jorgensen, for now, anyway, and we really have to get to the bottom of this cookie thing.”

He let out a shaky breath, but his gaze still fixed on her intensely. “Good idea.”

Ginger noticed that he was breathing hard as she walked past him, trying not to get too close. He reached out and brushed his hand against her arm, then wrapped his fingers around her wrist to stop her. His touch was enough to send that shiver straight through the rest of her body, making her nipples tighten.

Her resolve was fading fast. She wished she could blame her own feelings on some stupid cookie, but she couldn’t. This was difficult and it would only be more so when the magic wore off for Stephen. Tonight had only made her face her own feelings about him and wish that things could be different between them.

She looked down at his loose grip on her. “We need to go.”

“I know.”

“You’re holding on to me.”

“I can’t help it.”

She looked up at him, into the familiar, handsome face she’d seen nearly every day for a year. Her friend, her protector, her confidant…her
boss.

Ginger’s phone buzzed and it was enough to snap her out of this daze. She pulled away from Stephen and he let her slip easily out of his grip. She fished into her purse and pulled out her phone. The screen read Unknown Caller.

“Maybe it’s Jorgensen,” she said out loud, jabbing at the answer button and holding it to her ear. “Hello?”

“Ginger, I’m so glad you picked up.”

For a moment, she didn’t recognize the voice. And then, “Oh, it’s you.”

Brad, aka Mr. Perfect.

“Look, I feel really bad about what happened earlier. That was lousy of me not to show up for our date.”

“No kidding.”

“I’m sorry. So, so, so sorry.”

“You’re forgiven. Goodbye.”

“No, wait! Please, let me explain. I was ambushed on my way to you. I was there, right outside the café, but this guy approached me. He told me lies—that you were old and ugly. But you’re not. You’re gorgeous. Please give me another chance.”

She glanced at Stephen who’d walked over to the window to look at the view that was costing him four hundred dollars a night.

“That’s ridiculous. Who would do something like that?”

“Some guy. He took me to a bar and bought me a few drinks. It was obvious he was pining for some girl. He took a call from her and he made it seem like he had a woman on his lap with her tongue in his ear. Or something like that. I don’t know, I wasn’t really paying much attention to him.”

Ginger froze. “What did he look like?”

“Do we have to talk about this? Isn’t my heartfelt apology enough? Let’s meet again. Tonight. Tomorrow. Whenever you like.”

“No, tell me what the guy looked like who stopped you from coming to our blind date.”

Stephen spun around on his heels to stare at her with complete shock.

It was all the confirmation she needed.

5

WITHOUT ANOTHER WORD, Ginger hung up on Mr. Perfect and dropped her phone into her bag before crossing her arms. She’d stopped breathing as she waited for him to speak.

Stephen gave her a tight smile and spread his hands. “I can explain.”

“I certainly hope so.”

“I was worried about you. I mean, it’s Valentine’s Day. Who goes on a blind date on Valentine’s Day?”

“Desperate women and serial killers,” she said.

“Exactly. You’re neither of those things.”

“In a moment, I might be both.” She let out a shaky breath. “Why would you do this? It was you, wasn’t it? The one Brad just told me about? The one who stopped him from meeting me tonight?”

His expression tensed, but he didn’t reply.

She let out an exasperated sigh. “Why? Why would you do something like that? You told him I was old and ugly?”

“I was lying.”

“That’s not much comfort, Stephen.” Pain twisted in her gut. This was the last thing she’d expected tonight. Out of all the people in the entire world, she had trusted Stephen. And she didn’t trust easily. She’d had more than her share of people—usually men—lie to her face. White lies, mostly. Not supposed to hurt, but they still did. Despite her upbringing with two parents who loved each other deeply, her trust in men didn’t really extend very far when it came to herself.