Calling All the Shots. Katherine Garbera
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“Will you have dinner with me again next Saturday?” he asked. “Not here, but on a proper date where I pick you up and take you out.”
“Yes,” she said and her voice did that squeaky thing again. She shook her head. “Hopefully I’ll be able to speak when you see me next week.”
“I like you just the way you are, Willow.”
She wished she could believe that was true, but he didn’t know her. He hadn’t back in high school and he didn’t now. On the set she treated him the way she did all talent—with a certain indulgence coupled with disdain. But he was talking about liking her. How could he? She wasn’t even sure she liked herself.
“Ah, you’re just saying that … aren’t you?” There was a hint of something fragile in her voice.
Jack felt as if Willow was still running away from him, and he knew no matter what gestures he made to bring her closer, he was treading on thin ice. He could literally navigate his way on thin ice—he’d been to the South Pole with explorer and entrepreneur Jefferson Haldon eighteen months ago—but this was different.
And personal relationships had always been harder for him. Give him a physical obstacle and tell him it was impossible and he’d find a way to conquer it. But give him a woman and tell him that she was impossible and he was stymied. It was frustrating to think he’d come such a long way from Frisco, Texas, and still hadn’t figured women out.
This woman. Frankly, she was the only one he really wanted to unravel and strip bare. But every time he thought he had a handle on her she did something unexpected … like the squeaky voice thing. What did it mean?
Why was this making her vulnerable? He was the one putting himself on the line … or was he the only one?
“Willow, I’m being honest. There is something about you that intrigues me. Even when you’re giving me the cold shoulder.”
“I’d put that down to ego,” she said.
“Me, too,” he admitted. “I’m not used to being ignored.”
“Then you don’t know for sure that you like me,” she said.
He crossed his arms over his chest, wondering if honesty was the key to this woman. Honesty was tricky because the truth wasn’t always as nice and pretty as people wanted it to be. “Want to know a secret?”
“Sure,” she said.
But there was a guarded look in her eyes, as if she was expecting him to say something … hurtful? He couldn’t read it. Never had been able to. The flashes he had of her from high school were just those big eyes of hers and that guarded expression on her face.
“I’m not sure if I like myself.”
Dammit, where had those words come from? He had meant to feed her some line about how she couldn’t expect him to like her if she kept him from truly knowing her. What he couldn’t tell her is that he’d lost the ability to care about anything but a challenge a long time ago.
“I didn’t expect you to be that honest,” she said. “What’s not to like about you? You’re charming—”
“I didn’t think you’d noticed,” he said, flashing her a calculated grin because he needed to get them back on familiar footing instead of staying here where he felt so damned vulnerable.
“It’s hard not to when you are wooing everyone in sight.”
“That’s my job. I can’t be successful if no one wants to talk to me. I’m the host.”
“You’re right about that,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “So it’s just for show?”
He shrugged. “I genuinely like talking to people and hearing their stories. They fascinate me.”
That hadn’t always been the case. There had been a time in his life when he’d been so focused on himself he didn’t know others even existed. But his accident and hitting rock bottom had changed that. He’d needed people and had been amazed at how many had reached out to help him.
“Me, too. As long as they are moving toward helping me finish whatever I’m working on,” Willow said. She was driven, and he could respect that.
“Is work all you ever think about?” he asked. She had always struck him as a workaholic. Then again, he only saw her in the context of the set, so he thought he might have it wrong. Now he wasn’t so sure.
She shook her head, but then grimaced. “It is. Even when I’m out with my friends I’m always thinking of my next project. But you know how it is in our business. If you take a break for a second someone will pass you by and that’s it. No one remembers your name.”
“You can take a small break. How about when I get back to the East Coast you play hooky for one day?” he suggested. He needed to have her to himself so he could see if she was worth all the crazy she brought to his life.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because I want to give you something you can’t give yourself.” He wanted to get her to notice him, and charm and expensive gifts weren’t the key to Willow. He could see that now.
“I don’t know that I want that kind of gift,” she said.
“Too bad. That’s what I’m claiming as my favor.”
“Uh, you already had your favor and it was a smokin’-hot kiss.”
“Dang, that’s right. Okay, fine, we’ll wait until after our date or better yet, I’ll make our date a no-talking-about-work one.”
“If that’s what you want,” she said, nibbling her lower lip.
“I really should be going,” she said.
But she made no move toward the door. She seemed as reluctant as he was to see this night end. “We didn’t get to really enjoy our coffee since we had that little work crisis to attend to … want another cup?”
She shook her head. “Thank you, but no. I can’t or I’ll be up all night.”
“How about seeing where that kiss could lead?” he asked.
“I want to say yes. I think that’s why I’m still here. But I don’t get why I’m attracted to you,” she said. “It would have been so much nicer if your kiss tasted gross.”
That startled a laugh out of him and he shook his head. “You really are one of a kind. Sorry for not being gross.”
She gave him a really tender half smile that let him see how vulnerable she could be. And it was odd to see that expression on her face because she was always in charge. Always so in control of herself and her surroundings, but now he had a glimpse of a different side of her.
“It just makes