Feel the Heat (Hot In the Kitchen) (34 page)

“I’ll ask one more time. Delete whatever you took and say sorry.”

That edge in his voice jangled Lili’s nerves. “Jack, it’s okay. Let’s just go.”

“It’s not okay,” he said, his eyes still zeroed in on the guy.

“It’s a free country,” Clyde said.

“No, it’s not.” Jack moved so fast Lili felt her skirt rustle as if a rush of air had blown through it. With one quick thunder crack of violence, he grabbed the phone and slammed it against the edge of the table, then threw it down, shattered screen up. There were probably ways to retrieve stuff off phones with broken screens, but the message was crystal.

“Man, what the fuck’s your problem?” the guy yelled, his voice pitched high enough to attract the rubbernecking attention of bar patrons in a three-table-deep radius. Lili slid a furtive glance to Cara, whose expression screamed,
Leave!
Leave before Jack beats the tar out of some bigmouthed moron in front of an avid audience with twitchy fingers hovering over their Send buttons.

Jack turned his imperious gaze on the blonde, who fidgeted with her phone and held it up, screen forward. “Deleted, I promise.” She looked at Lili and bit her lip. That was her apology, Lili supposed.

He jammed his hand into his pocket, peeled a couple of hundreds from his billfold, and threw them down with the same vehemence as the phone. His eyes, as murky as impenetrable night, sliced through Lili. That was a whole other level of scary.

“Now we can go.” With his hand grasping her arm tightly, he steered her toward the door.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Outside, a wall of oppressive July heat rose up to meet them, but it still registered cooler than the stifling atmosphere in the bar. Slipping Jack’s severe grip, Lili retreated to several feet away from the bar’s entrance, her heart pounding so hard she worried her chest might explode.

Ohgod ohgod ohgod.

Once, she had asked Jack if he would punch everyone who said something mean to her. She’d thought it was sweet when he said yes. Be careful what you wish for.

Cara paced, phone surgically attached to her ear, muttering “shit” over and over, and something about how they needed to get a statement out to the press. Her whole posture spoke to caged chaos as she got to work on saving her job and the television future of her boss.

Dazed, Lili turned to find Jack crowding her. “Sweetheart, are you all right?”

No, no, no.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” She squeezed her bottom lip between her thumb and forefinger. “You really shouldn’t have done that.”

People streamed out of the bar, their noisy laughter strident and probably unrelated to what had just happened. Lili’s cheeks blazed hot all the same and she tried to walk away, but Jack commandeered again and directed her to his car. He felt too big, too potent, the power she envied barely leashed. Not that she was afraid of him, but she saw now that he had good reasons for ignoring the trash that was written about him.

Seconds later, they were making their getaway through the side streets of Wicker Park. An eerie calm descended, as if the farther away from the bar she got, the easier she could breathe. But it was just an illusion, another segment of her fever dream. She hadn’t even said good-bye to Cara. At last glance, her sister had been eating the sidewalk in her Manolos, hands sculpting the air furiously as she did what she did best. Managed and controlled. The network deal might survive the night—no one had been hurt physically—but how long before a smashed phone turned into a smashed jaw?

Looking out the window, she saw they had slotted into a space right outside DeLuca’s. Long past closing, the lights were still on, which meant Tad was likely mangling the cash-out. Holing up in the back office with her Mount Everest of paperwork until the storm passed by was starting to look like a very attractive option.

She jumped at the warm brush of his knuckles on her arm. “Lili, are you all right?”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” she repeated, feeding him a sidelong glance.

“He deserved it.”

“Maybe, but have you given a single thought to how this affects your contract?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Can’t say I have. That’s typically how mindless rage works.”

“This isn’t funny, Jack.”

“I agree. Someone calls you names, disrespects you, and I’m supposed to just stand by and take it?”

“You’re supposed to use your common sense and think about what’s best for your career. Your reputation. I don’t care what people say about me,” she said, stunned at its truth. The insults might pierce for a moment but she could learn to tune it out. Not so sure that Jack could, though.

He snorted and muttered something she couldn’t make out.

“So, the next time something like this happens, off come the gloves again?”

She could see his mind whirring, computing the implications before dismissing it to the other side of the street. “Well, I’ve been informed by my lawyer that the First Amendment prohibits me from getting cease and desist orders for Facebook pages and Twitter accounts, so I’ll just have to take care of it the old-fashioned way.”

“Cease and desist orders? You mean you tried to get the pages taken down?” She struggled to get the words past her rapidly constricting throat. “Jack, you can’t stop the Internet from existing!” She had completely underestimated his need to protect. It was Jules and the paparazzi, a disparaging remark in a bar, a nasty comment in 140 characters or less.

Guilt and love collided in a fiery pileup in her chest. He had stood up for her and put everything on the line, behavior that was crazy and stupid and struck every emotional chord in her body. How could she not love a man who was willing to risk everything to protect her? And how could she love him and let him do that?

“Jack, this can’t go on.”

“Don’t worry. It’ll all blow over.”

“That’s what you said after the video and it didn’t. The Internet exploded like a confetti bomb. My father practically had a coronary.”

“And your father will know now that I can protect you. Anyone who tries to hurt you will have me to deal with.”

It would never end. Jack would wage a full-scale war on anyone who crossed her. Living with that responsibility, and the dread fear that he would begin to realize what a liability she was, would crush her. She wasn’t worth this depth of fervor. She never could be.

“I’m not a damsel in distress. I don’t need you to fight my battles.”

“Really, Lili? Because the way I see it, you spend so much time taking care of everyone else that your battles—your needs—get pretty short shrift. You can’t stand up to your father. How are you going to stand up for yourself?”

Shock rolled over her at the way he pieced that together. “This…this has nothing to do with my father,” she spluttered.

“Yes, it does. You let him tell you what to do, with the restaurant, with your life. Even now, you’re only concerned with what he thinks.”

There was truth there but hell if she was going to let it muddy the waters. “So I should just substitute one tyrant for another? Because that’s what you are, Jack. You expect everyone to fall in line with your worldview and to hell with the art of compromise. That’s what families, friends, lovers do. They compromise.”

That muscle near his mouth was in full throb. “You’d know all about compromises. You’ve compromised so much you’ve forgotten what you want. Who you want to be.”

She swallowed back the hurt of yet another pointedly accurate blow. “I’m trying to make sure your career doesn’t explode in your face.”

He made a sound of scorn. “No, you’re not. You’re looking for the easy way out. You’re afraid of what you feel. You’re afraid of trying and failing. Hell, you’re afraid of trying and succeeding. You’d rather let your own dreams die instead of rocking the boat. With your father, your art, with us. I know exactly what you’re thinking, Lili. I always have.”

A tremor rattled her thigh and she fisted her hands in her lap to force it to calm. No go. Where did he get off being so intuitive and handsome?

“Let me tell you what I think. You weren’t protecting me back there. You were just marking your territory.”

“I prefer to think of it as branding you as my own, but you can phrase it in those terms if you like.”

He talked like she was an acquisition for his empire, and she was glad because it gave her the fuel she needed. “From the minute I met you, you’ve done nothing but bully and make demands. If it’s not me you’re trying to bend to your will, it’s Jules and probably a million other people you expect to kowtow to the great Jack Kilroy. Veiling it in charm and that stupid accent doesn’t make it any less manipulative. I told you I wanted to take it slow but all you do is push and push.”

His face stormed over. “Better that than standing still.”

The words sliced through her like blades. Her distress wound a path from gut to chest to throat and she swallowed hard to force it back. She’d always known she wasn’t slick enough for Jack’s world, where he hurtled along at the speed of light, forever chasing some textbook vision of excellence.

“Sorry I can’t move fast enough for you.”

He laughed, short and bitter. “Oh, you moved pretty fast in that bar, Lili. And you were certainly no slowpoke when you came to my hotel room after the taping. Seems you’re happy to take risks for certain things, like sex, but when shit gets real, up go the walls and out come the excuses.”

Lili couldn’t conceal her astonishment. “We’re not all as sure as you, Jack. Not everyone comes out of the womb with a fully formed plan for world domination.”

He leaned in close, his mouth as hard as his gaze. “At least I’m not afraid of admitting what I want. What I need. I’m not going to beg, Lili. Either you’re in or you’re out.”

“How could I refuse such an attractive offer?”

“That’s right, smart-mouth. Make a joke.” A half-sneer curled his lips. “Whatever you need to keep it simple. I’m coming on too strong and you can’t stand to be pushed. Or you’re making this huge sacrifice so I won’t be forced to rip anyone’s head off and ruin my career. Let’s just go with one of those, shall we? Either way, you come off looking pretty good.”

His vicious grip on the steering wheel drew her dizzy gaze to the pale knuckles of those strong, blunt hands. She didn’t have to look to know his jaw was set in a hard line, his lips thinned to invisibility.

“Jack, you want too much,” she said to the window.

“And you don’t want enough.” He spoke, not with rancor but with a tired resignation that sent a bolt of alarm through her chest. He had reached an impregnable wall and no longer had the energy to break through. Those well-crafted defenses of hers were too entrenched, those bone-deep fears impossible to overcome. And the worse part was that she knew it and couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

“Did we ever have a chance, Lili? Did you ever see a future for us or was I always meant to be the good-time guy to make you feel wanted, a stopgap to go with the half-life you’re living? Well, go find someone else to use because I deserve better than that. I deserve more than you’re willing to give.”

She felt as though her heart and lungs were about to fly apart. He was right. She could never be the woman he deserved. Fumbling, it took her a moment to find the door handle, never mind that she was looking right at it.

“I need to get out,” she gasped, but it didn’t open until she heard the click of the lock. It would be stupid to read anything into that, such as Jack releasing her from her bond to him. Really stupid.

After slamming the car door, she expected him to drive away, and it took her a moment to realize he was waiting for her to get inside her apartment. Protecting her to the end. Once sequestered, she gasped and hauled in oxygen to the heart she could feel blackening with hurt. When it didn’t help, she realized the muscle was damaged beyond repair.

*  *  *

“Jack, wake up.”

He jolted and almost fell over because his left side had decided to stay in the land of Nod. Apparently, a Mack truck had run over his head, then backed up to finish the job. And he was drooling. Bloody brilliant. He peered up and Jules peered down, her face pale and concerned. Huh, there’s a switch. She was worried about him for a change.

Then he realized the incongruity of their positions. She stood over him, and he was puddled on the floor of his new restaurant kitchen. Stiffness had snarled his back muscles into a slab of frozen beef. Par for the course when you fall asleep with your back to a refrigerator door.

“How did you get in?” he croaked while he swiped at his mouth. He strained to lift his head. Any more than an inch would require coffee or a crane.

“You left the door open, idiot. I called your mobile but you didn’t answer.”

“Because I was asleep.” His head snapped back and a painful wince answered. “So you walked into an empty restaurant in a dodgy neighborhood on the off chance I’d be here?”

“Don’t worry. The sprog kicks up whenever it suspects danger. Like baby spidey senses or something.” Bending over, she extracted a quarter-full bottle of Johnnie Walker from his hand, subbed it with a cup of coffee, and looked around. “You’ve been busy.”

He followed her gaze. Pots begat pots, skillets had birthed skillets. All the countertops bore evidence of last night’s surge of creativity-slash-destruction.