Hot on His Heels (What Happens in Vegas) (9 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Sadie took a sip of her extra-large latte from the Starbucks wannabe in the hotel lobby. It was going to take a couple of them to get her through the morning. In fact, she had considered simply staying in bed until the luncheon she had paid to attend at noon.

But staying in bed, hiding from the possibility of seeing Jake again, was cowardly. And Sadie Quinn was no coward.

Besides, she needed to figure out what she was going to do with her new knowledge. Outing Jake as Jocelyn Dellarivier would almost certainly guarantee her tenure—her book’s chapter on the most feminist editor in romance actually being a man would definitely make it required reading for every class in pop-culture literature that included romance novels. It would grace the shelves of hundreds of academic libraries.

It would pretty much guarantee her the equivalent of academic fame—such as it was, and among a certain set of scholars.

I’m afraid, though, that it might take me right out of the running for “decent human being.”

There were plenty of male editors in the world of romance publishing, and none of them felt any pressure at all to hide their identities. None of them had Ian Blaine for a twin, though.

As much as she hated to think of doing anything to support Blaine’s candidacy, she had to admit that his “family first” political platform might be harmed if anyone found out that his twin brother edited erotic novels for a living.

Jake had been quite clear at dinner the night before that he was sharing his background as a cover model for Intertwined as a secret.

Reaching into her bag, she dug around for a moment until she found her phone. Anxiety twisted in her belly as she opened the Twitter app and scrolled to Jocelyn Dellarivier’s page.

Nothing new had been posted since Sadie’s tweet, though a number of people had responded to the post with questions about what it meant.

She could always hope that Jake hadn’t seen the post, that she would have a chance to explain what had happened before he ever opened the app. A quick scroll through Jocelyn’s earlier posts dispelled that idea, though. On previous days of the conference, Jocelyn had started posting by eight every morning.

It was almost nine now.

The panel Sadie had planned to see was about to start. If she wanted to get a seat, she needed to go in now.

Maybe she could figure out what to do while the panel speakers gave their presentations.

With a heavy sigh, she made her way to one of three empty chairs in the back of the room and settled in, leaning over to pull a pen and notebook out of her bag.

As she was bent over, a slight scuffling from the aisle suggested that someone wanted to pass to the next seat. Grabbing her bag and clutching it to her chest, she started to offer to move over, when a familiar, spicy scent pinned her to her seat.

She couldn’t even look up as Jake’s form slid in front of her. The smell of him slipped through all her defenses and left her breathless, with a sharp spike of desire that tightened her nipples and curled her toes in her shoes.

The panel moderator began introducing the speakers, but Sadie couldn’t make sense of the words. Every part of her seemed to pull toward Jake, as if she were iron and he a magnet.

Be strong, Sadie.

When he ran a single finger down her arm from her shoulder to the hollow of her elbow, she shuddered, and then, when he tapped her notebook, she realized that he was asking for paper.

Her stomach clenched, this time in misery.

I can’t do this. I can’t sit here and pretend everything is okay. It’s not.

Without a word, she ripped out a sheet of paper and handed it to Jake, the noise loud in the otherwise quiet room. Then she stood and turned to leave.

Don’t look back, Sadie. Never look back.

She didn’t even try to keep the door from slamming behind her as she left the room.

…

“She’ll tell the entire world, Kamille. You have to cover for me, help convince her that I’m not really Jocelyn, that I was just using her Twitter account.”

Kamille shook her head. “You’re an idiot.” She leaned back, stretching one arm out along the top of the sofa. “I’ve known you now for, what, ten years? I have never seen any woman hit you this hard. And I’ve watched you go through a few.”

“But it can’t matter. She’s a college professor—somewhere in Louisiana, I think. Hell, I don’t even know where she teaches. And there’s no way Ian would ever—”

“You know what?” Kamille interrupted, dropping her hand to the couch cushion and leaning toward Jake. “Screw what Ian might ever do. You have spent your entire life tiptoeing around what Ian might or might not like. This is the first time I’ve seen you want something this hard. I can see it in your eyes when you look at her. I say you go for it, and Ian be damned.”

Jake narrowed his eyes. “Niall wasn’t sick, was he?”

“Of course not, you doofus. I set up the whole thing. She’s smart and she’s already half in love with Jocelyn and in the process of falling for you. With that book she’s writing, she could be your biggest advocate when you finally do let the world know who you really are.” The publisher closed her eyes and breathed out a long, slow breath.

“And the whole thing would be quite the news story for Intertwined.”

“You know I will let you keep pretending to be Jocelyn for as long as you want.” She flipped her long hair behind one shoulder and smoothed it down. “But, yes, now that you mention it, the extra press wouldn’t hurt us.”

“I…I have to think about it,” Jake hedged.

“Fine. Go think. I’ve got an awards ceremony to get ready for.”

Kamille walked Jake to the door of the suite and opened the door for him to leave—but he should have known that she wouldn’t let him get away without one last word. As he stepped out into the hall, she leaned against the doorjamb, propping the door open with one toe of her shoe. “And while you’re thinking, you should consider whether or not Ian would ever give up for you all the things that you’ve given up for him.”

While Jake was still working out an appropriate response, Kamille smiled, waggled her fingers in a tiny wave, and stepped back, allowing the door to slam shut.

So what if Kamille thought he should consider something more long-term with Sadie? That didn’t mean he had to agree.

He couldn’t risk it. She had figured out his secret.

All he had to do now was think of a way to get her to keep it.

Some way that didn’t involve entering into some sort of romantic agreement. He needed to stay clear of some overly intellectual academic who was nosy enough—and inappropriate enough—to post something from his Twitter account.

Still, he had a hard time working up any real indignation over that. For some reason, all he wanted to do was make her really understand why he could never tell the world that he was Jocelyn Dellarivier.

He was pretty sure she would never get it.

But he could try.

Chapter Fifteen

“Last night didn’t mean anything.” Sadie had meant for the comment to come out as a statement of fact. Instead, her voice lilted up at the end, turning it into a question.

She had known that it was just sex, of course, even as it was happening. But for a moment, Sadie had been certain that he felt it, too, whatever it was that drew her to him so strongly.

Amelia’s brows drew down. “That’s kind of an odd conclusion to come to, sweetie.”

“He knew I was searching for him…her…for Jocelyn. And he arranged to distract me that night. First with dinner. Then with sex.”

The most amazing sex I’ve ever had.

But it hadn’t meant anything at all to Jake, had it? Tears welled up in her eyes.

“Listen to me,” her friend said. “You’re being totally irrational. This is not like you. I’m getting worried.”

With a sniffle, Sadie wiped the back of her hand across her eyes.

“Is it the tenure thing?” Amelia asked. “Are you upset because you’re worried you won’t be able to get tenure without adding the interview to the book? You know we can finesse that. Send me the chapter and we’ll polish it up so no one even notices.”

The tears Sadie had barely been holding back spilled over, running down her cheeks. “Oh, Amelia,” she wailed. “I’m not worried about tenure at all. And that’s not normal. I’m worried that there’s something really, really wrong with me.”

“So this is all really about Jake Blaine?” Amelia stood up and walked into the bathroom, returning with a box of Kleenex.

Sobbing too hard to speak, Sadie simply nodded, then blew her nose into the tissue her friend brought. After a long moment, she finally managed to hiccup out, “This isn’t at all logical. I’m worried that something is truly wrong with me.”

Amelia sank onto the bed next to her friend and patted her on the back. “Sadie, honey, love isn’t logical.”

“Love?” Sadie gasped, her sobs shocked into remission. “This isn’t love. It was a one-night stand. Love doesn’t come out of that. I hardly know anything about him.”

Except…just being around him made her smile and feel beautiful, as if she were the heroine of her own life.

With a little laugh, Amelia shook her head. “What? You thought all those books had it wrong? That love never strikes suddenly? Unexpectedly?”

“But fiction and poetry aren’t real. They’re just words.”

“You know—maybe better than most other people could—that everything comes down to words. We are only what we do and the words we use to discuss what we do. Actions and words, Sadie. It’s all we’ve got.” Dropping her hands in her lap, Amelia stared at Sadie expectantly.

“But what Jake did…” Sadie’s voice trailed off.

“What Jake did to you? It was, from what little you’ve told me, pretty nice. What has he said about what he did?” Amelia waited again.

Sadie’s hands crept up to cover her mouth, muffling her voice when she spoke again. “I don’t know,” she admitted. When her friend didn’t answer, she said, “I need more information.”

A grin quirked up one side of Amelia’s mouth. “Logic is your strong suit. I suggest you gather all the data possible—including any information you can dig up about how you feel or how Jake feels—and then apply that considerable brainpower of yours to it.”

As the two women stood up, a knock at the door interrupted their hug. When Sadie pulled the door open, she was surprised to see Ruby and Emerald standing in the hall—but even more surprising was Kamille Stone.

“Hi,” the publisher said. “I need you to do a favor for me. If you agree, I’ll make sure you get your interview with Jocelyn Dellarivier.”

Sadie tilted her head and considered Kamille’s statement. Was it possible she didn’t know Jake’s cover was blown?

I need more information.

“Come in.” Sadie pulled the door wide. “I think we need to talk.”

…

Having once again been dressed, made up, and coiffed by Ruby and Emerald, Sadie stood in the line of other women, mostly authors, who had been chosen to announce various award winners during this evening’s banquet hosted by Intertwined. When it was Sadie’s turn, Kamille motioned her onto the stage and handed her an envelope.

Sadie stared down at the paper in front of her, then glanced at Kamille. The publisher nodded encouragingly, so Sadie put on her best teacher’s voice and announced, “The winner of this year’s best editor in erotica is…Jocelyn Dellarivier.” Taking one step to the side, Sadie moved away from the podium and the bright spotlight shining down on it.

Kamille stepped up to the mic, and the crowd clapped politely, clearly expecting her to accept on the notoriously reclusive editor’s behalf, as she had for the last several years. Instead, the publisher leaned in and said, “For the first time ever, Jocelyn Dellarivier has elected to accept this award in person.”

A buzz of electricity filled the room, but Sadie’s mouth twisted in skepticism. Clearly Jake had decided to hire some woman to play the role of Jocelyn, just in case Sadie decided to out him in her book anyway.

That didn’t mean she had to stick around and watch. She had done her part by announcing the winner. Kamille Stone would make sure Jake—as Jocelyn—did the interview. And for Sadie’s silence about Jocelyn’s true identity, Kamille would see to it that Sadie had interview access to any other Intertwined author or editor she wanted to include in her book.

Sadie’s tenure was all but guaranteed now.

So why do I feel hollow?

Turning her back on the whole charade, Sadie slipped backstage—or at least, she attempted to. At the last minute, just before Sadie could make her escape, Kamille grabbed her arm and pulled her close. “Watch,” the other woman whispered.

The other award recipients had walked up to the stage from their tables in the audience. However, Jake stepped out from backstage, directly opposite where Sadie stood.

Jake. Not some actress hired to play Jocelyn.

He looked amazing in a tuxedo—maybe the same one he had worn out to dinner with Sadie. As he strolled across the stage, he smiled at Kamille and Sadie, then glanced out at the audience. If not for the slightest sheen of sweat on his forehead, Sadie would have thought he was perfectly calm and collected.

As if this took no effort at all on his part.

But she knew better.

This was the one thing he had sworn he would never do.

So why now? Was it to keep her from giving away his secret?

That didn’t seem to fit. Not really.

Surely he wasn’t telling the world his biggest secret because of Sadie.

Because of the things I said?

…

From behind the curtain, Jake had taken one glance at the audience. Mostly women, of course, in varying degrees of formal wear, they were seated around round banquet tables and polishing off the cheesecake desserts. Some of them he recognized from other conferences—they would know him as a model or as one of Kamille’s employees.

One of the tables up front had been reserved for a group of the more prominent book bloggers. They were the ones he would have to duck after his big announcement.

No. Better not to think about them at all.

There was only one woman here who mattered.

When Sadie had announced his name—Jocelyn’s name—he had drawn in a deep breath. And as soon as Kamille finished her statement, he blew the breath back out and stepped boldly onto the stage.

Go big or go home.

Well, this was about as big as he could go. And afterward, he might never be able to go home.

For the first time ever, though, he thought that maybe he had found someone who could mean even more to him than his brother.

He kept his gaze trained on Sadie, until he got to the microphone stand and placed his own single notecard on the podium in front of him.

His hands were shaking, he noticed, as if from a distance. Not enough to be obvious, but enough to highlight to himself just how anxious he really was.

“Hi,” he said into the mic and jerked back at a slight squeal of feedback. The room was utterly silent. “My name is Jake Blaine, and I have been working as an erotica editor under the name Jocelyn Dellarivier for a little over five years now.”

The room erupted into excited chatter, but Jake forged ahead with his prepared speech.

“There are a lot of people I could thank for this award tonight—Kamille, who taught me how to edit fiction, and all the authors I’ve worked with over the years. But really, there’s only one person to thank for getting me out on this stage tonight, and it’s Professor Sadie Quinn.”

Holding his hand out, he gestured Sadie to his side. “Without this woman, I don’t know that I ever would have agreed to reveal my true identity.”

Sadie took half a step toward him, then stopped, uncertain.

“And I’m afraid that I hurt her, something I would never have chosen to do in a million years.” He paused, then gazed into her eyes to say the words that he had memorized. “‘You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it…’” Jake trailed off, his heart thumping inside his chest harder than it ever had, as he waited for Sadie’s response.

Slowly, she stepped fully into the spotlight with him. “Jane Austen,” she whispered. “
Persuasion
.” Blinking once as the bright light hit her, she held out her hand, just far enough that he would have to reach out to take it.

Instead, he stepped forward and swept her into his arms, slanting his mouth across hers over and over again. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he lifted her off the ground.

Several long seconds later, he finally realized that the roaring in his ears wasn’t the sound of his blood rushing through his body, but the audience, clapping and cheering.

Trust this crowd to appreciate a romantic gesture.

Setting Sadie back on her feet, he took a half step back but didn’t let go of her. Picking up the mic, he held it close enough to speak into. “And is that your answer?”

Sadie’s lipstick had smeared around her mouth—and probably his mouth, too, he realized—and her hair had come out of its pins, one curl quickly turning frizzy as it brushed against the nape of her neck. Jake had to force himself not to curl it around his fingers. He tightened his free hand into a fist next to his leg to fight the urge.

Despite the blush sliding up her neck, he saw in the defiant tilt of her head and the bright glint in her eyes the same sexy woman he had made love to.

Her smile turned wicked as she pulled the mic toward herself and responded. “‘Till this moment I never knew myself.’”

Several of the women in the audience hooted in laughter, clearly recognizing the source—whatever it was. Jake narrowed his gaze and held the microphone out to one side, suddenly wishing he had waited to have this conversation in private “That’s not a real answer.”

She shrugged, heat building in her gaze. “Are you saying that sometimes words aren’t enough?”

“Maybe. Sometimes.” He held his breath, remaining perfectly still, suddenly aware that Sadie needed this—needed to know that he was available to her. That he wanted her and would proclaim that to the entire world. But she also needed to know that their connection was, and always would be, her choice.

“Then maybe this is enough,” she said, closing the space between them.

Jake blew his breath out in a long, blissful sigh as she stood up on her tiptoes. Just as he was about to again claim her mouth with her own, he heard her whisper another Jane Austen quote, one that he actually recognized from
Emma
. “‘If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.’”

“I know,” he responded against her lips. “I know.” And then he lost himself to Sadie once again, the sound of the cheering audience disappearing into the sound of his heart, beating in time to her own.