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It probably didn’t matter, anyway. With a sigh, he resigned himself to heading back to LA sooner than he’d imagined.
Chapter Nine
TheSea Shellmight be a weekly, but because of the timing of her interview with Jay Malone, Erin was on a tight deadline. She only had the afternoon to write her piece if they were going to make this week’s issue, and Pat Sinclair had made it pretty clear that she expected Erin to deliver.
She’d driven straight to the office, but as she sat at her desk, instead of reviewing her notes or listening to the recording, Erin found her mind wandering. She was jittery, and for once it wasn’t because she’d drunk too much coffee. The problem was simple and she couldn’t deny it any longer: She was developing feelings for Jay. Big time feelings. Her heart hadn’t raced like this in a long time and the new, more real side she’d seen of him today excited her.
But then she admonished herself. This was Jay Malone. Annoying, loud Jay who was pushy and overly assertive. Jay, who only dated models twice her height and twice as beautiful. More than that, though Jay had always made her feel safe, she still hadn’t lost her fear of being dominated by a powerful man. A fear she’d carried around with her since college. She knew Jay as a friend—but not what he’d be like as a lover or boyfriend. She figured he’d be too possessive and domineering—exactly what shedidn’twant in a man.
She turned her attention back to her article, but the fifteen hundred words she’d managed to type swam before her eyes. So she just sat for a few minutes and thought back on the extraordinary revelations Jay had offered her. She still couldn’t believe that in all the years he’d been coming to the Davenporthouse for family gatherings, she’d never known a thing about his childhood or his humble beginnings. He just had such an aura of success about him that she’d figured he’d gone to some Ivy League school without ever asking. She’d been to Stanford and was used to the blazing confidence so many people had when they got into such a respected institution. But since she wasn’t like that herself, it had been foolish to make assumptions about Jay. And what a shock to discover he hadn’t even graduated from high school. His beginnings were more than just humble—they were, frankly, disadvantaged. And yet look what he’d made of himself. It was the kind of rags-to-riches story that people loved.
And yet, as much as her fingers itched to tell his tale in all its brutal detail, something was stopping her.
She recalled the moment when he’d said, “Do the readers of theSea Shellreally want to know this?” He’d been defending his choice of the kinds of deals he made, but this was a man baring his soul in a way he never had before in an interview. She knew that because she’d done her research and hadn’t been able to find one darned personal thing about his life except for romantic links to a plethora of models. Although he’d told her that he’d spoken candidly because it was her, she couldn’t quite believe this was the whole truth. Could it be that he’d become so lost in talking about the past he’d simply forgotten they were two professionals on the record? Had he felt, as she had, that the whole world had melted away until they were just two souls, showing themselves to each other?
She shook her head. No, she was getting carried away. This wasn’t a scene from one of the romantic movies he never put his stars into.
And yet she couldn’t let the thought go. If he’d opened up because it was her, as he’d explained, then he might have forgotten she was a reporter. If she told the world his painfulstory, one that he’d never revealed before, would he be filled with regret? See it as betrayal of a family friendship?
There was a reason she hadn’t made a career of hard-hitting investigative news reporting. She didn’t want to humiliate anyone or expose their secrets unless they wanted them exposed. And in this case, she couldn’t be sure.
She blinked at the screen and read over what she’d written about the house he’d bought, which definitely would be of interest to the people of Carmel-by-the-Sea, and some of the funny things he’d said—what it was like to move into a town where there were so many art galleries, fancy pet stores, and real estate offices. She smiled, seeing the town she loved so much through somebody else’s eyes. Through Jay’s eyes.
Her fingers hovered over the keys for a moment and then she continued to type, checking the recording on her phone every so often. She wrote about how he kept dog treats handy even though he didn’t have a dog, because every time he was out walking through Carmel or across the beach, he met the greatest dogs and in this way he was getting to know the locals. She gave space to the highlights of his career, omitting the hard time she’d given him about not putting his actors in romances. The more she typed, the more the words seemed to pour from her fingers, and she entered that flow state where the story felt like it was writing itself.
She was just proofreading her piece before sending it to Pat for an edit, when Clark arrived with a selection of photos to run with it. She was intrigued to see what Clark had captured. Jay photographed well, with those intense eyes in the tough-guy face and the shaved head. He looked relaxed and truly at home in Carmel. The thought made her smile.
They agreed on one pose of Jay, not in his office as he had suggested, and not in his library as she had wished, but in that beautiful garden that was so tucked away from the world. In thespace where he’d first thought the Barbara Hepworth sculpture might belong, Clark had taken a fun shot of him leaning over, with his elbow where the sculpture would have gone. The photograph was easy to caption:Superstar agent Jay Malone contemplates what kind of sculpture to purchase for his new home in Carmel-by-the-Sea.
She thought the picture evinced both Jay’s cheeky sense of humor and the fact that he was settling into his new home, where hopefully he would buy art from a local sculptor. Her mind flipped back to the Barbara Hepworth. That beautiful piece had traveled a long way—all the way from Cornwall in England—and she shivered again thinking about the two of them in the bedroom picking the perfect spot for the sinuous piece. There must be a local sculptor who could fashion him something for the garden. Already she had some ideas of places she’d like to take him shopping. After admiring it for so long, she felt emotionally invested in that property. She wanted everything in it to be perfect. And there was a part of her too, who wanted that specifically for the young boy who never could have dreamed that one day he’d own such an impressive and beautiful home.
Pat’s edits came back before she could leave for the day and, as always, Erin was impressed by the way her editor could so unerringly cut out wasted words or fluff and make the piece tighter. Along with the edits, she’d included a little note:Great work, Erin.
For Pat, that was gushing praise. Erin felt as though she’d been fully forgiven for not telling her editor about Archer’s wedding. Even better, she hadn’t had to sell out Jay in the process.
His story was safe with her.
Chapter Ten
Jay opened his copy of theSea Shellwith trepidation. The front page carried an article about school funding, but there was a little teaser of his profile, bottom right. As much as he wanted to know the local schools were well funded, he was way too curious not to flip immediately to the page where he was featured. The first thing he saw was the photograph, which had been set in the center of Erin’s profile. He grinned, appreciating how it captured his more playful side. He was usually portrayed as serious, sometimes even menacing—especially when the article focused on how cutthroat he was when making deals. When he read the caption underneath, he chuckled and wondered if Erin might like to go shopping with him for a sculpture. She clearly had a good aesthetic eye, as well as a sense of humor.
The headline was innocuous enough:Top Hollywood Agent Buys Dream Home in Carmel. Then, with a sense of dread, he began to read. He didn’t know what had possessed him to tell Erin all those intensely personal and humiliating things about his past. But there was something about the way she listened with such interest and no judgment. There had been no pity in her gaze, but a kind of understanding sympathy that made him keep going when he should have just shut the heck up. Plenty of reporters had tried to lower his mile-high walls—including the infamous Roxy Thanton fromCelebrity Tonight, who’d also had a crack at Archer after he’d broken his leg. None had succeeded.
Until now.
How had a thirty-year-old woman whose hardest-hitting question was about not putting his leads in romantic comediesmanaged to draw out of him what he’d kept hidden from even the most intrusive of journalists? He shook his head. It couldn’t have been Erin alone. No, he’d been listening to a little voice inside of him that said it was about time to be honest about where he’d come from. That it was okay. That it was time to stop hiding. But now, faced with the consequences of listening to that voice, he was worried.
It had taken years and years to become Jay Malone and now he’d undone all that hard work in one morning. He sighed loudly.
As one sentence flowed into the next, he couldn’t believe what he was reading. It was beautiful, playful, thoughtful—and there wasn’t a single mention of Jay’s childhood. It was as though his life had begun when he and Archer met at the restaurant where they’d both been waiting tables. She’d put in the bit about him hustling to get the dishwasher job, and then when she’d talked about his agency, she’d described it asfledglingrather than revealing that he and Archer had cobbled together a CV, letterhead, and a company name. Beyond grateful, he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He still worked with those people he’d once had to hustle, and while nobody in Hollywoodwasn’tgoing to pick up the phone if Jay Malone called, he didn’t want studio executives feeling like they’d been made a fool of. Those guys had long memories. Dealing with afledglingagent was okay. Being tricked by a no-account hustler was an embarrassment.
Erin had saved him from himself. He wanted to wrap her in the world’s biggest bear hug and squeeze her tight. And then he found he couldn’t stop the image from developing... He’d hug her, feeling how small she was in his arms, how smooth her skin, how taut the muscles in her back. His hands would drop farther down, trailing over that soft, soft skin until they found her waist and circled it, drawing her in tighter. He closed his eyes. Hecould smell the coconut of her shampoo, feel the length of her strawberry blonde hair.
He stopped there. “Get a grip,” he muttered. “This is Erin.”Erin!
He shook the erotic image from his mind. All he needed to do was thank Erin for her discretion. He was about to pick up the phone and call her, or maybe arrange for a big bouquet of flowers to be delivered to her apartment, when his cell rang.
He gulped when he saw the display—did the guy have telepathic powers?