The Bedroom Business

As for “talk...” The man didn’t know the meaning of the word. He’d hustled her out of the office, into a cab and to­wards Fifth Avenue so fast that it had made her head spin. All the “talk” had been hers. She’d demanded he let her out of the taxi so she could go home but Jake had ignored her protests. He hadn’t “talked” her into coming here, he’d shanghaied her.

Still, Emily had to admit, if reluctantly, that being here might have its uses, now that Jake had promoted her. There were more business contacts just in the corridor than she’d ever imagined a person could find in one place, and from the “hello’s” and “how are you’s” Jake was exchanging as they moved slowly towards the Sunset Room, her boss knew every last one of­—

“Jake. Great to see you.”

“You, too, Thad.” Jake smiled and looked at Emily. “Thad, I’d like you to meet Emily Taylor, my executive assistant. Emily, this is Thaddeus Jennett.”

“Miss Taylor.”

Emily blinked. “Thad” was none other than the hand­some, debonair anchor on UBS’s top-rated evening news show.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, and took the hand Thad extended to her.

“We’ll catch up to you later,” Jake said, taking Emily’s elbow, “just as soon as we find the checkroom and get rid of these coats.”

Get rid of these coats? Emily clutched her collar in a death grip. She felt out of place enough as it was. The last thing she was going to do was peel off her coat and stand around like a plain gray goose in a sea of sexy swans.

“I don’t want to find the checkroom,” she hissed.

But Jake didn’t hear her. He was stopping again, intro­ducing her again, to the star in the newest UBS romantic comedy, then to the guy’s publicist. Emily said hello, did her best to make small talk and tried not to wonder what people must be thinking.

“Not so bad, is it?” Jake whispered as he drew her forward.

“Why didn’t you tell me this would be so—so dressed up?”

Jake lifted an eyebrow. “Let’s see. One, you didn’t ask. Two, bringing you with me was a last-minute decision.”

“That’s an interesting way to put it,” Emily said coolly.

“Three,” he said, ignoring the interruption, “you didn’t want to come, anyway. Four...four, would it have mattered? Do you own anything that would have worked tonight?”

Emily’s mouth turned down. “That’s none of your busi­ness.”

“I didn’t say it was. You were the one who raised the issue. Besides—”

“Jake!”

The shriek was loud enough to shatter glass. A tall, ex­quisite blonde hurled herself into Jake’s arms.

“Jake, lover, is it true you and Brandi are...” The blonde drew back, made a face and slid her hand across her throat.

Jake grinned. “Hello, Crystal, news travels quickly in this town.”

“Good news, you mean,” the blonde replied, and looped her arm through his. “Come get me a drink and tell me how I can help you recover from the loss.”

“A little later, maybe. Let me get rid of my coat, first...” He paused, frowned, and looked at Emily. “Sorry,” he mut­tered.

“No problem,” Emily said sweetly, and held out her hand. “I’m Emily Taylor, Mr. McBride’s executive assistant. How do you do, Miss...?”

“How nice,” the blonde said, in a tone that made it clear it wasn’t, and turned her attention back to Jake. “Darling, I’m so glad to see you! Honestly, it’s been so long...”

The sexy voice droned on. Emily felt her face turning hot. She’d been dismissed, totally and completely, as only one woman can dismiss another. Well, so what? She was here as Jake’s business associate, not as his date. Exchanging names with someone like this—this person wasn’t important. It wouldn’t do a thing for her career, or for McBride Investments...

Oh, who was she kidding?

Never mind careers. What about egos? She had one, even though she hardly ever let it show its face to the world, and it was her ego that was warning her what the rest of the evening would be like.

She was here as a stand-in for Brandi, but that was a joke. The blonde, draped over Jake’s arm with the determination of a boa constrictor on its prey, was determined to be Brandi’s successor. She was also a harbinger of what lay ahead.

Women would swarm around Jake like bees around hon­eysuckle. They’d all be beautiful. They’d have perfect hair, perfect smiles, perfect makeup, perfect bodies. Her prom, all over again. She’d be the plain-but-brainy wallflower on the sidelines, whose date had wandered off, smiling until her face hurt, pretending it didn’t matter that she was alone, that no boy had come near her...