The Wager

Chapter Twenty-three

“Can you drive faster?” Char asked, a bit annoyed that it was taking them so long to get back into the city. She had exactly forty minutes to get ready and be at the office.

“Sure. I’ll just get a speeding ticket,” Jake said.

“It’s not like you can’t afford it.”

“What is up with you?” He pulled into the carpool lane. “Everything was fine last night and then all of a sudden you’re a cold b—”

“If you value your life, you won’t finish that sentence.”

“Brat.” Jake grinned and sped past another car.

Char ignored his ridiculously flashy smile and looked out the window. “It’s fine; everything’s fine. I just have a lot to get done if I’m going to take all that time off from work for the wedding.”

They fell silent.

After a few minutes, Jake asked. “Is it something I did?”

Something he did? Was he really that dense? He was toying with her feelings! Making her fall for him when he really had no interest beyond friendship. “No,” she lied. “I’m just tired.”

“I’m sorry.” He pulled the car on to Queen Anne Hill. “You know, if it was me, I didn’t mean to upset you with your parents or get us arrested or—”

“Jake.” Char interrupted. “It was the best birthday ever. I promise. I just have to return to reality, you know?”

Gosh, how depressing did that sound? Returning to reality, where she wasn’t a princess, Jake sure as hell wasn’t her prince, and she worked at a job where people still snickered behind their clipboards.

He seemed satisfied with that answer because he didn’t say anything, just parked the car and let her walk away without as much as a good-bye.

It was better that way.

It had to be.

By the time Char made it to work, she was already ten minutes late and had missed her morning coffee.

A few people whispered when she walked by, which really wasn’t all that odd. She made her way to her desk amidst all the stares. Please! It wasn’t as if she was doing the walk of shame, not that she’d been opposed to the idea last night. Ugh, how could she be so stupid! The man was her kryptonite! One kiss and she was powerless. The man needed a warning label or an act of government to warn unsuspecting women.

“Hey.” A man she’d never seen before stopped her. “Happy Birthday, Char. Hope it was awesome.”

“Um, yeah, thanks.” Self-consciously, Char looked around the room and noticed every eye on her. Keeping her head down, she made a beeline for her desk.

It was covered in roses.

Hundreds of yellow roses.

With shaking hands she picked up the card. Written inside was a simple note: “Sorry you cried. Hope you had a great birthday. I’ll pick you up at five to finish the list—Jake.”

“Damn.”

“Who are those from?” Her boss, Mark, walked up behind her and smiled. “And why didn’t you tell us it was your birthday?”

“I, uh—”

“You don’t have to tell me. But I need to see you for a few seconds, okay? When you’re ready.” He lifted his coffee cup in the air, giving her a waft of the caffeine she so desperately needed, and walked off.

Char set her purse down inside her desk and stomped off toward Mark’s office. After closing the door, she took a seat.

“You didn’t tell me you were going to be in the Titus wedding,” he began. No hello, no hi, how are you? Nothing. Just a simple fact. She’d failed to mention she was going to be in the wedding of the century. Whoops?

“I, uh, was trying to respect their privacy.” The lie came swiftly; really she was just trying to push the attention away from her and Jake, again. Eventually, word would get out and she didn’t want to be hounded by all her female co-workers, asking what he smelled like.

“I want you to cover it.”

“But I’m in it.”

“Exactly.” He leaned forward and folded his hands across the desk. His gray eyes gleamed as the fluorescent lights drew attention to a vein in his forehead. “Ever since the incident—” That’s what he called it. The incident where she showed up for a news report completely wasted after a one-night stand with Seattle’s infamous bachelor. Would she never live that down?

Mark paused and cleared his throat. “You’ve been doing a few stories for us here and there, but have yet to gain your spot back as one of our premier reporters. It’s not you. It’s our reputation that’s at stake. We can’t have a girl with your type of—”

Oh, this should be interesting.

“Reputation, being the face of KOMO news, but I’d be willing to give you another chance if you did a good job covering this wedding. Every news station wants the story, but we’re the only one with the in. We have you.”

“I’d have to ask permission, Mark. You know that.”

He shrugged. “Ask permission or don’t. It’s up to you, but if they say no I still want you to do it.”

“But—”

“This is your career, Char. Do you really want another chance or not? Because if you don’t, the door is behind you.” He turned on his computer and didn’t give her another glance. “We’re done here.”

Char rose carefully. “Yes, sir.”

“And Char?”

She turned.

“I would think very seriously about your future. Maybe KOMO news isn’t the right place for you. There are plenty of other eager college graduates willing to take your place.”

Fighting back tears, Char stalked out of the office and made a beeline toward her desk. The scent of the roses literally choked her. Or maybe that was fear. She wasn’t sure.

With shaking hands, she picked up the phone and dialed Kacey’s number.

Voicemail.

Of course.

They were probably flying.

The thing was, Char knew that Kacey wanted privacy. It was one of the prime reasons they’d chosen to get married at Titus Abbey rather than in a big church. Their house was private property, therefore they could control the paparazzi. Granted, Travis wasn’t as famous as Jake, but their family owned basically half of Seattle and had been featured in Forbes more times than Char could count. The wedding was big news. They were millionaire business moguls. And people were obsessed with the Titus brothers, almost as much as they were with the Seahawks.

It was a cranky start to Char’s day; she worked through lunch and by the time five arrived she was so ready to leave she almost bolted out the door the minute the big hand hit the twelve.

“Ready?” a voice said behind her.

More whispering and gasping, a few swear words, and then a moan. Yes, one woman had actually moaned out loud.

“Jake.” Char swallowed and turned around, ready to face the god himself. He had on tight ripped jeans and a white t-shirt. Sweet mother of God, he was beautiful.

Now she understood the moaning.

Pretending not to be fazed as his hazel eyes met hers, she reached for her purse and stood. “I’m ready if you are.”

A few cell phones were lifted in the air, pointing in their direction. Jake’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. In fact, he looked almost… angry. Licking his lips, he gave a small wave to the people standing around them and turned away. A few women began talking loudly next to Char’s cubicle.

“Great.” He smiled and helped her to her feet, then put his hand on the small of her back as he walked her down the hall.

A few more snickers were heard as they passed offices.

And then a cat call.

The touch of Jake’s hand was burning itself into her back. It wasn’t lost on her that when she walked by Mark’s office she could see he had a satisfied gleam in his eyes. Bastard. They were almost home free.

Char hit the down button on the elevator and prayed it would go faster. You could seriously hear a pin drop, the room was eerily quiet of it’s usual buzz and laughter.

“Jake? Jake Titus?” A woman cleared her throat.

Both Char and Jake turned.

Michelle Klike was the reporter that had replaced Char on the five o’clock news. She had bright blond hair and was Barbie-doll small; her nickname was Legs.

“Yeah?” Jake licked his lips and flashed that fake smile again.

“Michelle Klike. I’m sure you’ve seen me on the news.” She tossed her platinum hair and winked. “We should do lunch sometime. I’d love to get to know you better.”

Right. Char snorted softly. Michelle sent her a glare and then turned her attention back to Jake.

“I, uh…” Jake shook his head and wrapped his arm around Char. “I’m busy.”

Michelle’s smile turned feral as she eyed Char, and then Jake and then Char again, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Well,” she pulled out a card, “you just let me know when you’re done with Char and I’ll set up a date.”

Done? Char’s eyebrows shot upward, most likely getting lost in her hairline as she took a step toward Michelle.

Jake’s muscles flexed as he gripped Char with his arm and took the card with his other hand. “Thanks, but I’ve already got a reporter I talk to.”

“For now.” Michelle flashed that damn smile again and strutted off.

The elevator doors opened, thank God.

Jake pushed the button for the doors to close at least ten times before they actually did, and then cheesy music blanketed their awkward silence.

“Sorry,” he finally said, his voice hoarse. “It’s not normally that bad. I mean—”

“Jake,” Char held up her hand. “You don’t have to explain. I know who you are and what you are, okay? Let’s just leave it at that. And who knows? At least now you won’t have to go to the club for your next booty call, right?”

Nostrils flaring, his eyes went cold for a brief moment before he looked away and shook his head. When the elevator doors finally re-opened, he let Char step in front of him and again placed his hand on the small of her back. What was he doing? She’d just pushed him away again and he was still, what? Being nice?

She eyed him suspiciously. “What’s your game here?”

He shrugged as they made their way through the parking garage.“I thought we’d eat before we finish off the whole wedding gift and cake topper thing,” Jake said as he unlocked a white BMW. Seriously, how many cars did the guy have?

“Sure.” Char got into the car and was reminded yet again how many straws she was attempting to grasp by even thinking she could be with a guy like Jake. He was playing with her: that was his angle. The minute she was gone he’d call Legs. “Where to first?”

“Well.” He put the car in drive. Merciful God above, what was he wearing? What type of cologne was that? She leaned forward and felt her face flush when she actually shivered at his scent.

“What are you doing?” Jake asked. The car was back in park. His eyes were twinkling with amusement.

“Er.” Char jerked away. “Just helping you see.”

“See?”

“The traffic.” She pointed behind them to nonexistent cars going by them in the parking garage.

“I think I’ll be okay on my own.” He winked and continued backing out while Char prayed for the car to swallow her whole.

“So this restaurant.” Changing the subject, she dug into her purse for some lip gloss. “It’s by the cake place?”

“Yup.”

“Cool.”

Holy crap. Was it going to be this awkward the entire time? “Thanks, for the flowers. They were really pretty.” There, she made her peace.

“They were yellow.” Jake pointed out as he maneuvered the car onto third street.

“Right,” Char said slowly.

“That means forgiveness.”

“Okay.”

“Just thought you should know.” He shrugged.

“Jake, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

He didn’t say anything. Just kept driving while Char managed not to look like a dog in heat as his smell continued to radiate off of him.

Jake pulled the car into a parking spot by a small restaurant and ran around it to help Char out. “I know it looks like a hole in the wall but it’s really good. I promise.”

The building was old and brick, like most buildings in downtown Seattle. The door to the restaurant was red, and spray-painted beside it was the word “Fork”. Hmm. She shrugged and followed him inside.

People were scattered about, sitting at mismatched tables with checkered tablecloths topped with giant glasses of wine. Hmm, maybe she would like this place after all. Jake grabbed her hand, took her to the corner table, and pulled out her chair.

“You already ordered?” She pointed to the full wine glasses on the table.

“Nope.” He grinned. “That’s how the tables are. The wine is all inclusive, as much as you want, at all times. The first glass is always the house wine and then they bring you whatever your preference.”

“Holy crap.” Char looked lustfully at the glass of wine. “You’ve brought me to heaven.”

His smile was so large that Char gasped before looking down at the menu on the table. It was handwritten on a small chalkboard that sat like a placemat by her silverware.

“You like it?” he asked.

“I love it.” Char met his gaze and smiled.