Calling All the Shots

“No,” he said. “But I have an apartment that’s a short walk from here. What do you say? Want to come back to my place?”

She started to shake her head but then stopped. She did want to have dinner with him. A part of her was hoping he’d be interested in her so she could date and dump him the way he’d dumped her the night of prom. She knew it was petty and she didn’t like that about herself but she’d never been a turn-the-other-cheek person. Never.

She’d waited for the perfect moment to get her revenge. And it looked like it had arrived a mere fourteen years later … Who said that patience wasn’t rewarded?

“Okay, I’ll do it,” Willow said. Maybe she could include a little anecdote about how Jack got his comeuppance in that letter to her sixteen-year-old self.

“Good. How long until you’re done here?” he asked.

“About twenty minutes. I have to talk to the camera crew. They had a problem on the shoot last night. Why don’t you leave me the address and I’ll meet you there,” she said.

“You’re not going to back out, are you?”

“That’s not my plan. I said I’d be there.”

“Good. I thought I remembered you as a girl of your word,” he said. There was a natural confidence about him that was so attractive—too bad that she hated it. She wanted to see some cracks in the facade of America’s Sweetheart. She wanted to see that life threw him curveballs once in a while.

“Jack?”

“Hmm?”

“Women don’t like to be referred to as girls,” she said.

“My bad,” he said with a wink.

“You’re about to have an epic fail if you do it again.”

He laughed as he turned to walk away. She couldn’t help staring at his fine backside until he disappeared through the door.

“Looks like hell might be in danger of freezing over,” Nichole Reynolds said as she approached Willow.

“Shut up,” Willow said to her other best friend. Nichole was the pop culture reporter for America Today, the national newspaper, and wrote a behind-the-scenes blog for the show. And she was one of the few people who knew the truth about Jack.

“Just saying. And you should be nicer to me, I’m about to be a mommy,” Nichole said, patting her baby bump.

She had recently married Conner MacAfee, the owner of the matchmaking service featured on the show, and was expecting her first child. Nichole was truly happy with Conner, and Willow was glad for her friend.

“I have to be nice because you’re pregnant?” Willow asked. The truth was there were two people in the world that Willow really cared about, and Nichole was one of them.

“It wouldn’t hurt. So did I hear correctly—you’re having dinner with Jack Crown? What happened to wanting revenge on him?” Nichole asked.

“I still do,” Willow admitted. “It’s just dinner. Even I’m not so irresistible to make a man fall for me that quickly.”

Oh, God, where had that come from? She wasn’t that girl anymore. The one who’d been so happy that a popular boy had smiled at her.

“Oh, Willow, don’t sell yourself short,” Nichole said with a cheeky grin. “He is definitely interested in you.”

“For now. It’s just because I’ve been ignoring him. I bet if I let him woo me tonight, he’d lose interest,” Willow said.

“I’ll take that bet,” Nichole said.

“What?”

“I bet he won’t lose interest in you,” Nichole said. “What do you want to wager?”

“Nothing. I’m not really betting on Jack,” Willow said.

“Why not? You said he was shallow. What have you got to lose?” Nichole asked.

Her pride. What if she fell for him a second time and had to watch him walk away again? She didn’t want to be the loser in a relationship with him—twice. “I was being flip.”

“No, you weren’t. Come on, I’ll bet you a spa day at Elizabeth Arden Red Door,” Nichole said.

“No fair, you know I love that place,” Willow said. “Why are you insisting on this?”

Nichole wrapped her arm around Willow’s shoulder. “You can’t trust any man because of that one incident with Jack so long ago. I want to see you healed from that so you can find a guy and settle down like Gail and I did. We’re happy and we want you to be, too.”

She hugged her friend back. A part of her wanted that, too. “I just want him to feel the pain I felt.”

“I don’t care what the outcome is as long as you can move on,” Nichole said.

“Okay, I’ll take the bet. But you’re going to lose and I’m going to gloat,” Willow said.

“Fine by me, but if he stays interested in you, then I win, and I’m going to save my spa day until after the baby comes.”

“Fair enough,” Willow said. “But they’ll be ice skating in hell before I fall for Jack Crown.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” Nichole said. “It will make my victory that much sweeter.”

November in New York had a certain excitement to it. Not that the City ever lacked energy but there was something about this time of year when everyone and everything seemed to be gearing up for Christmas.

For Jack, it was the beginning of one of his busiest times of the year. He had three holiday specials that needed to be filmed—they were all live tapings. Plus a year-end recap show of Extreme Careers, his series that was otherwise already in the can. His agent was on him about his next big gig and Jack knew he was moving into another phase of his career. Finally he didn’t have to drum up work—producers and networks were coming to him.

Since he was so busy it didn’t surprise him that this was when Willow finally accepted a date with him. It was just like her to make his life a little crazier. But then maybe that was why he’d been asking her out.

Jack looked around his apartment, making sure every detail was perfect. It wasn’t so much that he was nervous—hey, he was Jack Crown and every woman wanted to be with him—but this was Willow. He couldn’t say for sure when he’d become so obsessed with her.

He suspected it was because unlike every other girl he met, she just … treated him like he was part of her crew. No special smiles, no attempts to get him alone. He knew that shouldn’t bother him. But it did.

He had faint memories of her from high school when she’d tutored him in language arts so he wouldn’t fail the state test and could continue to play football. But that was all. Just flashes of a younger Willow interspersed with his football-playing days.

Back then football was his life. Considering he’d grown up in Texas on the poorer side of town, there was only one real ticket out of poverty for him—sports. He’d gone on to be a Heisman Trophy–winning wide receiver and then a first-round draft pick for the New York Giants. Unfortunately, his first time-out he’d been brought down by a career-ending tackle. He’d learned after his injury that he was going to have to find something else to do and quick. Luckily he’d always had an affinity for being on camera and had been able to segue into a broadcasting gig.

The buzzer rang and he hurried over to answer it. His converted loft building had a state-of-the-art security system. When he hit a button, a small black-and-white screen showed Willow standing at the outside door.

He buzzed her in and then glanced around the apartment to make sure everything was in order. He didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to know that Willow wasn’t going to give him another chance at getting this right. This working date had to be perfect.

There was a knock on the door and he smiled to himself as he crossed to open it. He planned on knocking her socks off and ensuring that when she left his apartment—preferably in the morning—she’d be dying to see him again.