Love the One You're With (Sex, Love & Stiletto 2)

“Does it make a difference if I say that this one isn’t true?” Jake asked, sliding the paper back across the desk.

“So Miss New York’s fiancé didn’t chase you out of her apartment with nothing but a half-empty bottle of bourbon to cover your balls?”

“A key detail was missing,” Jake said, pushing the paper back across the desk.

“What detail was that? They got the type of whisky wrong?”

“I didn’t know she was engaged,” Jake said quietly. “Didn’t even know she was involved with someone.”

Normally he didn’t make much of an effort to defend his reputation as a wild bachelor, but this wasn’t just about pride. This was about his job. And if the crap stories the scandal sheets liked to publish were the only thing standing between him and the Travel spot, he’d be glad to set the record straight.

When Christine Alverson had come on to him in the bar, all shiny red hair and passionate about the nonprofit she was starting for better technology in the schools of rough neighborhoods, he’d been blissfully unaware of the fiancé who worked out of San Francisco four days a week.

And when he’d found out, he’d been good and pissed. Just because Jake didn’t have any visions of being a husband didn’t mean he didn’t have plenty of respect for the institution of marriage. His parents were happily married, as was one of his sisters.

The thought of anyone stepping out on someone they’d pledged their life to …

Well, maybe Jake wasn’t quite as tolerant as he thought. Not when it came down to things like loyalty and fucking common decency.

Cassidy continued to study him. “Is it true that you never turn in your stories before four o’clock on the day they’re due?”

“Yes.”

Cassidy winced. “Christ, you didn’t think to lie to me on that one?”

“It’s also true that I’ve never missed a deadline. Never.”

“You’re still a wild card. With this Travel gig, I’d go months without seeing you. Maybe longer. You’ll be on different time zones, bedding women on all continents. You’ll have to manage yourself, and frankly, I’m not sure you’re up to it.”

“Now hold on just a second,” Jake said, his temper hitching up another notch. “You’ve been behind that desk for all of a month. I’ve been doing this for years. If anyone should do the proving—”

“Hear me out,” Cassidy interrupted. “I respect Bill’s opinion, but I deserve a chance to form one of my own. One that doesn’t come from the man who thinks you shit gold, one that doesn’t come from the tabloids, and one that doesn’t come from the harem of women you’ve slept with.”

Jake was tempted to give Cassidy the finger and head out the door.

Instead he pictured the stamps in his passport. Imagined what it would feel like to be rid of that itch between his shoulder blades telling him something was off.

This Travel gig was the only way he knew how to get rid of the empty feeling that had settled around him the past couple of years.

So instead he stood, taking a deep breath and walking toward the window. The move was inappropriate considering this wasn’t his office, but he needed a minute to pull his shit together and let his temper cool.

Alex Cassidy remained silent and gave Jake his space, which was appreciated. Would have even earned a thank-you if Jake wasn’t so annoyed that his new boss had flaunted his tabloid exp

loits at him.

What kind of crazy city did they live in that a magazine columnist even made it onto the local gossip page? Surely there were Broadway stars to stalk or displaced Hollywood starlets to follow around?

Jake glanced down at Eighth Avenue. It was busy, but then what street in New York wasn’t busy during midmorning?

Oxford’s offices were only on the sixth floor, and Jake was just able to make out the shape of strollers and dog walkers heading to Central Park, even as suits and high heels were heading into office buildings or the nearest Starbucks.

Jake realized that his eyes were lingering on the women. More precisely, the brunette women. Subconsciously he was watching for that haughty woman from the cab this morning. She was definitely the most interesting female he’d met in months.

It certainly hadn’t been his finest moment, creepily climbing into the taxi with her like that. He hadn’t been in that much of a hurry. But then he’d seen her up close, and she’d been snotty, standoffish, and completely gorgeous.

And he’d wanted to get under her skin just to watch the spectacle of it.

The joke had been on him, though, because then she’d told the cab driver the address of her office building.