Bravo Unwrapped (22 page)

“Thanks for the update. I really appreciate it.”

“L.T. wanted you to know.”

So he had
you
tell me.
“And now I do.”

“Get me that cover story. ASAP.”

“You'll have it by Monday.” She walked out of Arnie's office and down the hall to her own office, where she collected her briefcase, laptop, coat and bag, turned off the light and got the hell out of there.

Out on Broadway, she hailed a cab. It took an extra hundred beyond the round-trip fare and a giant tip on top of that, but she managed to convince the cabbie that a ride upstate would be a great idea.

 

L.T. was out of bed for the first time.

She found him in his study, playing some game on his great big computer with its giant-sized flat screen. When she walked in and shut the door, he glanced over with a grunt and then went right on click-click-clicking that remote mouse of his.

She waited in front of the door.

Eventually, he took his hand off the mouse and sat back in his chair. “So. Stole a minute out of your busy day to drop in on your old dad.”

She longed to lunge at him, grab him by his saggy-skinned neck and spit in his eye. But she kept her cool. “I talked to Arnie. He told me you're hiring Bob Alvera as editor-in-chief.”

L.T. grunted again. A mean gleam came into his eyes. “We can use some new blood around the magazine.”

Sometime during the drive upstate, as her cold rage had increased, her stomach had stopped rolling. Now it felt like an icy ball of lead. She stood tall. “That was
my
job. You gave me your word.”

“You're not ready yet. Give it time.”

“I'm ready. More than ready. And you damn well know it, too.”

“Right now,
Alpha
needs a man's steady hand at the helm.”

The icy ball of lead in B.J.'s stomach went molten. “I do not believe you said that—you, who always told me I could be and
was
as good as any man.”

“Yeah. Well. Maybe I was wrong.”

“You weren't. And you know you weren't. I'm the best that there is. You know the work I've done. I deliver a quality product and I do it on time, every time. I have a vision for
Alpha
and it's an exciting one.”

“What about the Christmas feature? You should make your damn boyfriend get off his ass and deliver on the contract he has with us.”

“The feature will be ready on time—and it will be fabulous, for your information.”

“Well, we'll see about that, now, won't we?”

She just looked at him. At that moment, she almost wished he'd have another heart attack. She wished he'd fall off that big red leather swivel chair of his with its nifty nail-head trim, fall off and roll around on the floor moaning in agony. He could die right there on his Persian rug and she wouldn't lift a finger to save him.

He said, “You let me down, B.J. Let me down big-time.”

“How? By taking a vacation for the first time in my life?” Everything on her body felt too tight—her skin, her hair, her fingernails. She felt as if the top of her head
just might pop off and explode right there under the soulful gaze of the enormous moose head on the far wall.

L.T. sat back in his chair. “I don't think there's anymore to say at the moment. If you'll excuse me, I'd like to get back to my game.”

Oh, he was wrong, wrong, wrong. There was a lot more to say. But B.J. didn't dare get into it. If she did, there would be yelling—a lot of it.

And in spite of her fuming fantasies of him moaning in pain on the rug beneath her Manolos, she didn't really want him dead.

No. Better not to get into it. At this point in time, with him still recovering, a shouting match was simply not a good idea.

“Good night, L.T.” She turned to go.

He hurled the last salvo at her retreating back. “Get that feature out of Buck. Now. Or start polishing your résumé.”

 

She returned to
Alpha.
She always had plenty on her plate there and she couldn't face going home to her apartment where there was nothing important to do. Not now, when her professional life seemed to be falling apart. Not now, when she felt such pure fury toward L.T., her rage made a taste like dirty metal in her mouth.

In her office, she flicked on the light, shut the door, hung up her coat and sat down at her desk. She booted up her computer.

And after that…

What?

Nothing, really. In the end, she was just too angry to get any work done. She felt trapped and lost and small…and betrayed.

The phone on her desk rang now and then. From her bag, she heard her cell beep. She ignored the sounds. She brought up her résumé and worked it over a little and wondered if she'd actually have the guts to do what cried out to be done: To say goodbye to
Alpha
and strike out on her own.

To walk away from the life she'd chosen for herself, the life she'd always known, the life that had always seemed the perfect life for her: the life of L. T. Carlyle's only child and heir, the woman who took what her father had created and made it bigger and better and more profitable than ever.

How long did she sit there, staring at her computer screen, wondering where she was going to go next?

Hours.

Around nine, the line to the security desk downstairs started beeping. She tried to ignore it, but it didn't stop. Maybe the building was on fire.

She picked up.

“Ms. Carlyle?”

“What is it?”

“Mr. Bravo's down here. He insists on coming up.”

Omigod.
Buck. She'd completely forgotten that they had a date. She clutched the phone and stared at her office door and could not believe she had done that. Again.

“Ms. Carlyle, should I send him up?”

Oh, this was bad. How could she have—?

“Ms. Carlyle? Are you there?”

“Yes. Yes, I am. Please. Send him right up.” She set down the phone and hurried out to meet him at the elevator. Oh, how could she have done that? How could she have blown off a date with him for the second time in as many days?

She stood in front of Melanie's empty desk in the dimmed after-business-hours light and waited anxiously for the elevator doors to slide open.

When they did, she didn't know what to say. She looked in his dear, handsome face, and her throat just locked up tight on her. She made an odd, squeaking sound and then somehow, she got out, “Oh, Buck. I am so sorry…”

He stepped out of the elevator and took her by the shoulders, strong hands warm and steady, his gaze seeking hers. “Okay. What's happened?”

And that did it. That opened the floodgates, somehow. It all came pouring out in a furious rush. She told him everything. How Arnie had told her what L.T. had done, hiring Bob Alvera from
TopMale
to take
her
job. How she'd gone to the Castle and confronted her father and L.T. had said that she'd let him down, that
Alpha
needed a man at the helm.

When she was finished, Buck took her hand and led her behind Melanie's wide black desk. “Here.” He spoke gently. “Sit down.”

She sagged into the receptionist's chair. “Oh, Buck. I'm so sorry I stood you up—again. I can't believe I did that. It's so not like me. But, well, my mind's been on other things and I just—”

“More important things, you mean.”

She couldn't read his expression. “I didn't say that.”

“You didn't have to.”

“You're mad at me, aren't you? Oh, I don't blame you. I just—”

He was shaking his head. “I'm not mad.”

She frowned up at him. “You're not?”

“No.”

“You're sure?”

“Positive.”

She stared up at him for a long moment, trying to read him, trying to tell if he really meant what he said. And then L.T.'s betrayal overwhelmed her again. “I just… Oh, Buck. I don't know what to do.”

He dropped to the edge of the desk, hitching a leg up, bracing an arm on his thigh. “Yeah, you do.”

“No, I—”

“Tell L.T. to keep his word to you, or you quit.” He folded his hands between his spread knees. “And then, if he doesn't give you the job he promised you…”

She swallowed. “Actually do it, right? Leave
Alpha…
” He nodded. “Oh, Buck. It's just not that simple.”

“You're wrong. It
is
that simple. I know your father. You not only have to draw the line with him, you've got to hold that line, or he'll steamroll right over it.”

“You don't understand.”

“Yeah. I do. Your father rules your life.”

“No…”

He wore a sad smile. “Yeah. L.T. demands all your energy and all your attention. The truth is, B.J., you don't have room in your life for another man.”

“No. That's ridiculous. I—”

“You said it yourself, remember, back at the cabin? You've spent your whole life trying to be the son L.T. never had. You're still trying to be that guy. And B.J., you're not a guy. I think it's about time you started being the smart, beautiful, savvy daughter L.T.
does
have—and while you're at it, you could also try and remember to keep your dinner dates.”

She let out a cry. “See? I knew it. You
are
mad at me.”

He rose from the edge of the desk and he put out
his hand to her. Warily, she laid her fingers in his. He pulled her up to him. “You're the woman I want, B.J. You're the woman I've
always
wanted. I've been as patient as a guy like me can ever be, but this, I can't take. To watch you driving yourself to the limit like this, to see how unhappy you are, and to know there's not a damn thing I can do about it.”

“Oh, Buck, I—”

He put a finger to her lips. “Wait.” She swallowed, nodded. “It's just not working, this thing with us. Right now, in your mind and heart, you're back at Castle Carlyle, yelling at your father, saying all the things you're afraid to say to him in reality, because he's working you and he's doing a damn fine job of it. He's got you convinced that you can't say what's on your mind, because if you do, he'll keel over dead.”

Though she knew he was right, she opened her mouth to argue, anyway. He didn't even let her get started. “Don't deny it. We both know it's true. L.T. is running you ragged, and since we got back to the city, this thing between us is going nowhere. For a while there, in California, I dared to hope…” He didn't finish. He didn't seem to have the heart to. He only said, “We've got to face it. It's just not working.”

What could she say? She looked up at him and couldn't believe this was happening to them all over again—and at the same time, she saw that there was really no other way it could go.

He waited. When she didn't speak, he advised again, “Draw the line on your father. And once you've drawn that line, maybe you ought to put a little effort into trying to figure out what the hell happened to Bitsy.”

She frowned at him. “Bitsy? I don't understand…”

“Give it some thought.”

“But I don't—”

He put up a hand. “One more thing. You might as well know that
I
know about the baby.”

B.J.'s heart stopped dead—and then started pounding so hard she feared it would punch its way right out of her chest. “I…what?”

“I heard you telling Glory that morning at the Sierra Star. I've been waiting for you to tell
me.
”

“Buck, I…” There had to be something she could say. She just couldn't imagine what it might be.

“When
were
you planning to tell me?”

How could she answer him? She was still stuck back there with the fact that he knew. That he
had
known. For more than two weeks now.

He knew.
It explained a lot, really. The way he never mentioned it when they forgot to use a condom, the way now and then he said things that didn't quite add up…

“Oh, Buck…you haven't said a word, in all this time. That's just not like you.”

He looked at her steadily. “I had some crazy idea I ought to be patient, to let you get around to it in your own way. But I'm tired of waiting. I can see now that waiting isn't going to do me any good.” He asked again, “When were you planning to tell me?”

“I, um…”

“When?”

“Well, I don't know, exactly. A couple of months, I guess…”

“Wrong answer.”

“Buck, I'm sorry. So sorry, I—”

“Goodbye, B.J.” He turned for the elevator.

“Buck. Wait…” He paused, turned back. Her throat
clutched as if it had some huge foreign object lodged in it. She coughed and managed to clear it. “Aren't you going to, um, do that Bravo thing?”

He seemed puzzled. “That Bravo thing?”

“You know,
demand
that I marry you?”

He gave her another of those wry, sad smiles. “Will it do any good?”

This was so insane. He was breaking her heart all over again—and how did he understand her so well? “No. I guess it won't.”

“I didn't think so—and I almost forgot. Check your e-mail. I sent you the story a few hours ago.”

She hadn't the faintest idea what he was talking about. “The what?”

“The story. Your precious Christmas feature.”

“Oh. The story…” She wished it mattered now.

“Goodbye, Bitsy.” He turned and punched the button. The elevator doors slid wide.

And she knew she couldn't bear it—couldn't stand to see him go.

But she also knew she had no right to stop him.

She shut her eyes, tight, to block out the sight of Buck walking away. A moment later, she heard the soft rumble of the doors shutting. She felt for the chair behind her and sank into it.