The Consequence of Seduction

  “Small? Who is this?”

  “Max Emory . . .” Max coughed. “And let’s further discuss Reid’s smallness. It’s a tiny, well-known fact that when one feels . . . insignificant and . . . petite, they shy away from dominance in the bedroom.”

  “Dude,” I yelled into the microphone. “He’s kidding.”

  “Small fry,” Max wailed. “They called him small fry during gym class.”

  Holy mother of chickens. I was going to throw Max into a furnace and light it on fire.

  “Small fry?” Mikey looked as uncomfortable as I felt. “Well, then, thank you for that . . . er . . . very interesting piece of information.”

  “Every LITTLE BIT helps,” Max said cheerfully.

  Jordan coughed out a laugh.

  “You’re on with Mikey M and Reid Emory.”

  “Hey.” The voice sounded like it came from an eighteen-year-old girl. “I don’t buy it. They have no chemistry. Boo. Publicity stunt.” The caller hung up.

  Mikey shifted in his chair. “One more call. You’re on with Mikey M and Reid Emory.”

  “She’s his publicist . . . I highly doubt he’s sleeping with her. I agree with the other caller. The video was funny as hell, but I’m not convinced. Give me something real.”

  Hang up.

  Shit, shit, shit, shit. Jordan grew paler by the minute.

  I did the only thing I could think of doing, hoping that Mikey M would at least vouch for us. I grabbed her by the back of the neck and kissed her right in front of Mikey M, then spoke softly into the microphone. “I guess we’ll just have to prove to everyone once and for all that this is it for us.”

  Jordan nodded.

  “Baby,” I crooned. “I know it’s only been a few days, but I feel like I’ve known you all my life.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “Would you—”

  She shook her head violently.

  “—do me the honor of marrying me?”

  The gum dropped out of Mikey M’s mouth.

  “You’re it for me.” I got down on both knees. “We both knew it was heading this way. I loved you the first minute you spoke my name.” Never mind that she called me a gay handsome stranger. “And when we held hands the first time.” Or when she elbowed me in the ribs. “I felt whole for the first time in probably my entire existence.”

  Jordan’s hands shook in mine.

  “The movie is . . . well, it’s my job. But baby, you and Otis, you’re my life!”

  “Who’s Otis?” Mikey asked.

  I waved him off. “Say yes.”

  Dead silence.

  “Yes,” Jordan said, voice hoarse. “Yes!”

  I jumped to my feet and twirled her around while Mikey scratched his head and then said into the microphone, “Well, folks, I guess our doubts have all been settled. Reid Emory has taken The Taming of the Shrew from the silver screen and actually lived it! Thanks for being on the show, guys, and congrats.”

  Jordan was silent as we made our way down the elevator. And when we got into the waiting sedan, she was still quiet.

  It wasn’t until we pulled out onto the street that she smacked me in the head with her purse. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking that people weren’t buying it!” I yelled. “And I fixed it!”

  “By proposing marriage?” she wailed. “Marriage is forever! You can’t just propose marriage on a national platform, then two days later say it won’t work out! It will RUIN you. It ruins any credibility you have.”

  I opened my mouth, then shut it. “It’s good publicity. You’re just mad you didn’t think of it.”

  “Right.” She smacked me twice more. What the hell did she have in there? Bricks? A Taser? Probably both. “Because that’s what I want after a crappy day where my very first client all but verbally assaults me, then accuses me of wanting to sleep with him. A husband!”

  “Wait, what?” I held up my hands as she kept smacking me. “He hit on you?”

  “No. Yes.” She stopped swinging the purse. “Does it matter?”

  “Hell, yes, it does! I’m your husband!”

  “Um, no, no you’re not. As of right now you’re barely my friend, and I’m even rethinking that little lapse in judgment. You’ve managed to make a mess of our entire PR plan all within three days! I can’t fix this type of crazy!”

  “Well, you can’t quit!”

  “I know that!”

  “Stop yelling.” I crossed my arms. “You’re being unreasonable and I hate your hair.”

  “What?” She tugged at her tight low ponytail. “It’s tamed!”

  “I prefer it wild.” Like you. But I didn’t say that. I felt stupid, stupid that I’d panicked and proposed, and stupid that I was offended she wasn’t elated at the idea. But then again, what the hell type of woman would be?

  An insane one.

  “Crab Shack,” she muttered. “Let’s eat and then I’ll try to fix this mess.”

  “I already did.” I reached behind her head and tugged the rubber band away, letting her brown hair bounce loose around her shoulders. “Let’s think about this logically.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, now you want to be logical.”

  I pressed my finger to her lips. “Logically, does it work? Movie star falls in love and marries his pet project while filming in New York. Most interesting couple allows media to view parts of their relationship while he finishes up filming. Oh, look, a picture of the couple by the lake. Oh, what? There they are kissing by the hot dog stand.”

  “Nobody kisses by the hot dog stand.”

  “Wasn’t finished.” I shushed her. “Riding bikes down the trail! A picnic at sunset!”

  “We aren’t in Anne of Green Gables. There will be no picnics.”

  “Just . . .” I braced her shoulders. “Does the marriage angle work?”

  Her eyes fluttered closed and then opened. A sliver of hope raced through me at her defeated look. “It can work.”

  “Yes!”

  “But—” She held up her hand. “But the story won’t be about taming anymore. You’ve made it bigger than that—”

  “So what’s it going to be about?”

  “Love and seduction,” she whispered. “Seduce me, and you seduce them.”

  “Them?”

  “The audience.” Jordan frowned. “You’ll be seducing me and making me believe you want something permanent, but they’ll be experiencing it with me, living it with me, which means that in the end . . .”

  “What?” What end? Things were ending? A choking panic seized my lungs as I tried to digest what she’d just said.

  “In the end,” she repeated, “I’ll have to be the bad guy. It will have to be me that ends things with you. So I guess we come full circle. You’ll seduce the shrew, and the shrew will decide in the end that she doesn’t want to change. That’s how the story ends. That’s how this ends.”

  “You’re depressing the shit out of me, Jordan, you know that, right?” Talking about ending things when it seemed like something was just starting between us was making my mood worse.

  She shrugged.

  “Hell, he must have done a number on you.”

  “What?” She flinched and tucked her wild hair behind her ear. “What are you talking about?”

  “Casey. You guys date?”

  “No.”

  “Then I don’t understand.”

  “You wouldn’t.” The car pulled to a stop in front of the restaurant. She reached for the handle, but I put my hand over hers and stopped her.

  “Try me.”

  I inhaled her perfume as I waited for her response. Her breathing picked up as she glanced down at our joined hands and closed her eyes.

  “Casey and I were best friends. He was one of my first clients.”

  “So when you quit today—”

  “I lost my friend, but to be fair, I lost him years ago. I lost him to the money, the fame . . .”

  “I’m sorry.”

 
“Me too.”

  “That won’t happen,” I felt the need to add. “To me, to us.”

  Jordan shrugged. “We have to be best friends in order for that to happen, and I’m pretty sure Max staked that claim on you long ago.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Max thinks he’s everyone’s best friend.”

  Her frown turned into a small smile. “I wonder why?”

  “Never wonder where he’s concerned. Should we eat?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “Good idea.”

  The conversation was forced throughout dinner, so forced that I had our waiter box up our food. Maybe Jordan needed to go back to the apartment and think. She’d had a day from hell and I’d made it even worse.

  Gold star for Reid.

  As distressed as she was, I knew I couldn’t help her. I never said I was good at comforting women. I almost offered to get her drunk when we got back to the apartment, but I knew that wasn’t going to work.

  Because Max was sitting on our couch, arms crossed, a scowl marring his features. Becca sat on the other couch, pity etched on hers.

  “Oh, hell,” I muttered.

  He smiled.

  I hated that smile. Because damn it to hell, I’d just played into his greedy little hands. Get married first? Me? Yeah, I’d said that. He’d officially won, and I’d been too ass hurt to realize it.

  On second thought, the girl who called sounded familiar too.

  He wouldn’t.

  Becca looked at her hands guiltily.

  He would.

  “You bastard!” I charged toward him, fist flying.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  JORDAN

  Max jumped onto the couch and held up his hands. “Before you do this, remember, our mother has a Jesus sticker on her car. What would she say?”

  “Must you bring her into EVERYTHING?” Reid roared, stopping in front of the couch, chest heaving.

  Max shrugged. “It’s not my fault I’m her favorite son.”

  “Says who?”

  “Mom. This morning.”

  “Was this before or after you added vodka to her coffee and slipped her a pill?”

  Max gasped.

  Becca made her way around the brothers and motioned for me to walk with her toward the kitchen. No words were spoken. She simply popped the cork from the wine bottle and poured what looked like three servings into a glass and slid it toward me. “Believe me, it helps.”

  I took the glass and sipped while she drank straight from the bottle. “Does he ever . . . stop being . . . Max?” I asked. “Curious minds want to know.”

  Max jumped off the couch, and naturally he made his own swish sound effect before landing on his feet, thrusting his hands into the air, and turning toward Reid. “I’ve been her favorite ever since I won at gymnastics.”

  “You don’t win at gymnastics,” Reid said through clenched teeth. “You get scored.”

  “Perfect ten.” Max winked back at us, then covered his mouth and said, “Zero,” while pointing to Reid.

  “We were six!” Reid argued.

  “Dude!” Max held up his hands. “I’m just saying, it’s not your fault you’re not the favorite. Let it go, man, just like Rose let go of Jack.”

  “Who’s Jack?” I whispered.

  Becca choked on her wine. “Oh, well, uh, last year Reid had a momentary breakdown because of Max peer pressuring me to shoot Reid in the ass with a tranq gun . . . he spent an hour singing ‘My Heart Will Go On.’” I winced. “Off-key.”

  “Damn you!” Reid turned on his heel and thrust his finger in our direction. “What did I ever do to you!” I think he was talking to Becca. “I hit on you once, one time—”

  “—thrice.” Max coughed.

  “And the only reason was so that I could get back at this one.” He jerked his hand back to Max, nearly hitting him in the face. “Because he told Grandma the lock on my door was broken. I was taken advantage of!”

  “Well, it was!” Max rolled his eyes.

  “Because you took a sledgehammer to it, you bastard!”

  Max grinned. “Guilty.”

  Honestly, I wasn’t sure what they were talking about. So I did what any sane girl would do. I drank.

  And when my glass was nearly empty, Becca very kindly refilled it while Reid and Max continued pacing around the living room.

  “You think if we chant fight, they’ll take their shirts off?” Becca asked.

  I eyed Reid’s near perfect physique. “One can only hope.”

  “Dirty girls,” Max shouted. “Both of you! Jezebel! I won’t have you poisoning her mind!”

  “Oh, please.” I rolled my eyes. “And stop calling me a whore!”

  “Term of endearment when Max says it.” Becca patted my hand. “Next time just say thank you. It’s easier that way.”

  I glanced back at the guys just in time to see Reid launch himself at Max, hands wrapped tightly around his neck, holding him against the couch while Max screamed. “Help, help!”

  “We should probably intervene.” Becca took a long sip of wine and set her glass down on the table, then yawned.

  “Yeah.” Max started turning purple. “We probably should. What do you normally do? Take off your top? Blow a whistle? Call the cops?”

  “Cops refuse to come when Emorys call—believe me, it’s like the whole McDonald’s thing. Public service refuses to help them now.”

  “Makes sense.”

  Max made a choking noise while he tried to kick Reid in the shin.

  “Oh, well.” Becca walked slowly toward the guys. I followed. I expected her to gently ask them to stop fighting and separate them.

  Instead, she punched Reid in the face and then separated them.

  He stumbled back.

  I caught him and fell backward against the other couch while he rubbed his face and whispered, “My hero.”

  “My lungs broke your fall,” I wheezed.

  Max gasped for air. “You know my biggest fear is not breathing!”

  “Not breathing?” I had to ask, I just had to.

  Reid chuckled. “For six years Max was convinced every food was going to cause him to go into anaphylactic shock because Oprah did a segment where some chick nearly died after eating a kiwi!”

  “A kiwi!” Max repeated hoarsely. “Who dies from kiwi? That chick.” He shook his head vigorously. “I refuse to go down eating.”

  Reid moved off me and sat back on the couch. “He took Benadryl every time he ate fruit.”

  Max narrowed his eyes. “Make fun now, but we both know that watermelon gave me hives! My throat closed, you bastard!”

  “Maybe if you took smaller bites . . .” Reid said helpfully.

  Max lunged again.

  Becca grabbed him by the shirt and tugged him back onto his own couch. “No more fighting, we have engagement pictures tomorrow.”

  “Oh, good.” Max glared at Reid. “Now the photographer’s going to think that I like my bride to choke me during sex because I have man-size fingerprints around my neck.” He tugged at his shirt. “Damn it!”

  “You mean you don’t like that, baby?” Becca winked at me.

  I burst out laughing while Max pointed between the two of us. “No, not happening, I’m sorry, you can’t be friends.”

  “Why?” I asked. “I could always use more friends. After all, Reid did kill my plant, so . . .”

  “Plant?” Max’s eyebrows narrowed in on Reid. “You sick, sick man. Why the hell would you kill a plant? Don’t you know what those stand for?”

  Reid frowned. “Uh—”

  “LOVE!” Max shouted. “Life! Completion! What the hell is wrong with you? You may as well run over a mama duck and her little lings!”

  “Lings?” I whispered.

  “DUCKLINGS!” Max shouted. “Damn it, Reid. Mom raised you better.”

  “Oh, really?” Reid snorted. “We’re going there, huh? How about you setting me up on national radio! You KNEW if you pushed hard enough I’d propose marriage.” br />
  Max cackled. “You were always easy to break. Always.”

  “I will seriously punch you in the throat.”

  Max grabbed Becca and placed her on his lap, then grinned behind her.

  “Human shield.” Becca sighed and looked horribly guilty. “Can’t say I’m surprised, nor disappointed by this sudden change of events—after all, my loving fiancé made me call in as well.”

  “Why help the evil genius?” I said.

  “She called me a genius.” Max puffed out his chest.

  “Note that she said evil first.” Reid lowered his voice. “Just saying.”

  “Well.” Becca shrugged. “He’s been impossible to live with this past week. Every time I come home from class, he has his ear pressed to the door like some lovesick teenager playing Girl Talk.”

  “Oh, my gosh, I loved that game!” I gushed.

  Becca laughed. “Me too! I can’t believe I actually called my crushes and—”

  Max snapped his fingers. “Becca, this is Max time; you two can play later.”

  “Punch him.” I glared at Max while Becca reached between her legs and flicked her fingers.

  “Damn it!” Max yelped. “Low blow. Literally.”

  “So.” I cleared my throat, ignoring Max’s sobbing. “What were you saying? About helping him?”

  Becca shrugged. “I thought making him promise we wouldn’t have sex until we got married . . . was a good idea at the time—a few months isn’t long to wait and I thought it would bring some excitement into the wedding night!”

  I nodded.

  Max gave me the finger while Reid wrapped a protective arm around me.

  “Anyway.” Becca shrugged. “I figure either I live with Max while Reid slowly drives him insane one fake orgasm at a time.” I blushed. “Or I help him and finally get some sleep without having to drug my own fiancé!”

  “I knew that milk tasted funny!” Max roared.

  Becca smirked. “Slept like a baby last night.”

  Amazing, it was like watching a sitcom, only in real life. Max started to gag. “You know I’m allergic to pills, ALL PILLS!”

  Becca wouldn’t let him up.

  Otis, sensing unrest within the home, came barreling down the hall and jumped onto the couch nearest Max.

  Max froze. “Holy shit, aliens really do exist! Hey, E.T.!”