Game, Set, Match (A Humorous Contemporary Romance) (Love Match) (9 page)

Jason continued to walk at a steady pace on the incline, ignoring the throb in his knee.
 
Tread lightly
. He surveyed Aaron’s bloodshot eyes and disheveled suit before checking the wall clock. Eight in the morning. If he knew his friend, he was out past his bedtime so it might as well be dawn. “Look, don’t listen to that idiot. Get rid of him. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. How about you have a little faith and let me worry about my knee? You just worry about getting me in as a wildcard in a couple of matches in the next few months. I’ll be ready.” Jason flashed his all will be well smile at his manager.

“You can’t fire him because he’s telling you something you don’t like. When are you going to learn that you can’t charm and bullshit your way out of everything? Your career is serious. We need to figure something out if this trainer isn’t working.”

Jason wiped his arms off then ditched his heavy towel, using his forearm to swipe away sweat from his forehead. “I don’t think you understand. I’m not trying to charm or BS my way out of anything. I’ll be ready. On my own if I have to. Don’t fire him, but you better tell him I’ll be damned if I’ll listen to some bullshit about not being able to do this. Even if you don’t believe it, I do. Even if fucking Brian doesn’t believe.”

Aaron wiped a hand across his shadowy stubble. “Okay, look. I get it. You want your shot at a comeback. You’re getting ready for a run on your old title.” He placed both hands on the side rail of the treadmill. “You might not want to listen to Brian, but if you do some serious shit to yourself, and we’re not prepared, you’re fucked. No title, no more
shots at a title. And, if we don’t clean up your rep, no cushy broadcasting job, no training camp for the aspiring kiddies. None of it. Is that what you want?”

Jason leveled his gaze at Aaron. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, reminding himself that Aaron wasn’t the enemy. “I hear you, but get Brian off my case. If I wanted doubters in my camp, I’d have kept Michaels around.”

Chapter Seven

“I will see Izzy, if I have to physically remove you to do it.”

Izzy’s head snapped up from her light table at the commotion from the reception office.

“Over my dead body, Simple Simon. She’s working her tail off to try and complete the impossible, thanks to your poor planning. You can’t interrupt her.”

A crash exploded down the hallway followed by colorful expletives from both Simon and Jessica.

“I’m her fucking manager. I know what’s best for her career.”

“Oh, remove that fucking stick up your ass, you pompous douche bag.” Jessica’s shrill voice echoed off of the reception walls.

“Tsk, tsk. How would your freak of a boyfriend feel about your language, Jessica?” Simon’s voice chilled the air.

As Izzy rushed out of her office, her heart slammed against her ribs. Voices grew louder and harsher as she rounded the hallway.

“You’re nothing but a small minded, little dicked, mother fucker, no wonder Izzy—”

“What the hell is going on here?” Izzy interrupted in a rush cutting off the rest of Jessica’s tirade.

They stood facing off over the reception desk, tension and anger crackling between them. If Izzy didn’t know better, she’d swear the tension was…sexual. Jessica’s colorful red poodle skirt and matching sweater set a good barometer for her mood. Simon’s ice blue tie shifted and gleamed, reflected the recessed lighting above as he loosened it. She looked like a sparkling firecracker and the look in his eyes bore frosty resentment.

Izzy tried to keep her voice calm. “Is there a legitimate reason you’re shouting the studio down? Lucky for you there’s no one in here right now. What the hell is wrong with you two?”

Both spoke at once.

“She wouldn’t let me in to see you.”

“He tried to bully his way past me.”

She stared, incredulous. “You have got to be kidding me
. What are you two? Children?” Before either could speak, she put up a hand. “Enough. Simon, I asked Jessica to keep everyone out, including you, so there’s no need to verbally lambaste her.” She turned to Jessica. “Thanks for doing your best, but next time, just come get me before it escalates. I can’t have a shouting match in here. There could have been customers.”

Both of them stared at her with a mixture of anger, antagonism and angst.

A red-faced Jessica muttered a brief apology, then bent to retrieve the discarded desk phone, paperweight and invoices from their scattered locations on the floor. Her contrite attitude toward Izzy didn’t translate to Simon, however. He stared at her bent over form, eyes half lidded. He drew in several deep breaths, before turning to face Izzy again. There was something in his expression, Izzy had never seen before—uncontrolled, almost primal.

She dragged him back to her office determined to diffuse any potential flare-ups. Once ensconced in the relative privacy of the brightly lit room, she gave him her full attention. “You owe her an apology. I’d make sure you give it to her before you leave.”

He stepped back as confusion lit his eyes. “Me? You’re going to make me apologize? She’s your assistant. She should know I have important matters to discuss with you, whether she likes it or not. And—”

Izzy narrowed her eyes to slits. “She’s also my friend. She was doing her job so I could work. Apologize.”

Izzy watched as the last of his annoyance seeped out of him, replaced with contrition.

“Okay, you’re right. I was an ass. She just drives me crazy.”

“Whatever it is, squelch it. I can’t deal with your squabbles and still get work done.”

“Actually, that’s what I’m here about.”

Izzy moved back to her light table. “What’s the urgent matter that couldn’t wait till this afternoon’s meeting with the publisher?”

He quirked an eyebrow.
“You mean besides you calling to back out of the photo shoot with Jason Cartwright?”

Blood suffused her cheeks under his intense scrutiny. “Oh, that.”

“Yeah. That pesky little photo shoot with 
Sports Illustrated
? Why would you jump to that solution without talking to me first?”

Yes, why had she tried to avoid talking to him? How was she supposed to explain working with Jason was a non-starter? Simon would read something into it. She opted for a safer excuse. “Look, I know you had to pull a lot of strings to get me the job, I just can’t manage it and the gallery opening. It’s too much.”

“What is it you can’t handle? It’s a couple of shoots, Iz. This is 
Sports Illustrated
. They’ll do half the work for you. All you need to do is take glorious photos.”

“I do more than that, Simon. I’m responsible for the art direction. I’m responsible for the mood, finding the stellar picture, looking into the soul of the subject.” If he has a soul, she thought bitterly.

He didn’t speak for several beats. Frowning, he asked, “Is it the subject you don’t want to deal with? I caught some of the tension there. If it is the subject, I’ll tell them it’s a definite no and line something else up for you, but 
Sports Illustrated
 is a huge step in getting you where you’re supposed to be. I don’t want to tell them there are artistic differences if I can help it.”

She bit back the bitter bile at his artistic differences retort. “I know how important SI can be. I’m not crazy about shooting the athletes and actors and stuff, but I can do it. I have done it.”

“So it 
is
 the subject you object to.”

Shit
. If she said yes, he’d want an explanation, not only as her manager, but as her boyfriend. She wasn’t ready to give explanations. If she said no, he’d think she was a difficult artist type, and she hated it when he made those kinds of references. She was a professional.

“No, it’s not the subject.”

“Good. Then there’s no problem. You’ll do the shoot.” He took her hand and pulled her out from around the light table. He encircled her waist with his hands. “I’ll make this as easy on you as possible. Anything you need, you just tell me, and I’ll make it happen.”

She leaned back from him. Knowing she couldn’t ask him to make Jason Cartwright disappear without a trace, she opted for something in the realm of possibility.
“How about less pieces in the gallery opening?”

“Well, how about we try something smaller. Besides, you know forty will give the critics a good range of your work and your talent. Anything else you want? How about I come to the set
and make sure everything goes smoothly?”

Izzy hated having him on set. He always got in the way, tried to give direction. She’d have to babysit him to make sure he didn’t waste SI’s money. “Oh, no, you don’t have to do that. I know how bored you get at shoots. It’s a lot of sitting around.
How about more time in my day?”

“Your wish is my command. I’ll cancel the publisher this afternoon. Give you more time to work. But I think coming to
the set will be fun. It’s been a while since I’ve seen my lady work.”

He seemed so pleased with himself, she didn’t bother to tell him he’d make her job harder, not easier, and by going to the meeting in her place he’d only be giving her back the time he stole from his interruption. “That would be great, Simon. But honestly, don’t feel obligated to come babysit me. Jessica will be on hand to make sure everything goes smoothly.”

His jaw clenched at the mention of Jessica’s name, then slowly unclenched before he spoke. “I’m not there to babysit you. I’m there to be your right hand. Jessica’s capable enough I’m sure, but she’s not me.” He grinned and pulled her tighter. “Anything else milady wants?”

She screwed her face up, body tightening at the contact.
“That you can provide me? Not that I can think of right now, but I’ll take a rain check.”

He smiled as he dipped his head. “Where’s your sense of imagination,” he mumbled against her mouth before nipping her lower lip.

In what could only be a practiced move, he shifted to pin her against her light table with his hips while both hands went to her face in what might have been an attempt at an achingly tender kiss. But it wasn’t. Firm, coaxing lips slid over hers and demanded a response. He left her nowhere to run.

When in Rome
. He wouldn’t let her wheedle out, so she threw everything she could into the kiss and waited for the tingle of arousal to slide up her spine. Waited for the quickening and thrumming of heady heartbeat. Waited for the dizzying ladder of lust and longing. Hoped to replace the memories of Jason.

Traitorously, her heart and body sighed in resignation to a kiss from the wrong man.
 
Not Jason.

The moment the image of Jason’s handsome face peeked into her consciousness, she felt the sparks of telltale arousal. She remembered his clean, crisp scent and the way his arms slid around her in familiarity and sexually heated tension. Using her imagination, she molded herself against the lengthening heat of Simon’s arousal.
And wished for several moments that Jason’s hands slid down her form in desperate need. That Jason’s tongue slid in and out of her mouth, coaxing her tongue to dance with his. That Jason’s erection pressed into her, insistent and aching for relief.

Jason, not Simon.
 
Jason
. Desperate to shake off the fog of her fantasy, she tore her lips from Simon’s. The sounds of labored panting filled the air as they both tried to catch their breath. Though, her pants came with a healthy dose of self-loathing and remorse. Simon was finally treating her like a desirable woman, and the only way she could get turned on was to think about Jason? She needed therapy. And a drink. A drink and therapy. Maybe an exorcism too just for good measure. She’d try anything to wipe thoughts of Jason Cartwright from her head.

“Damn, Izzy, if I’d have known that was going to happen, I would have suggested we go up to the house.” His lazy smile told her just what he wanted to do up at the house.

Feeling like a first class bitch, she disengaged from him. “I still have work to do.”

He gave her a disappointed smile, but released her. “You’re right. We can finish this later.” He must have seen some of the panic flit across her face because he amended the statement immediately. “I’m not going to move too fast, Izzy. I want this to be perfect.”

She listened to him walk out and murmur brief apologies to Jessica. Fantasies were normal she told herself. Healthy even. Many a woman had fantasized about George Clooney or Brad Pitt, or Jason Cartwright for that matter, while with their boyfriends.

Then why did she feel so guilty?

It took her almost an hour after Simon left to accept the realization that he had manipulated her into staying on the SI job. Not only that, but he’d also manipulated her into inviting him to the set. She was no better than she’d started off. She still had to deal with Jason, but now she’d have the added pleasure of Simon’s company on the shoots.

Chapter
Eight

Jason waited for Izzy, every nerve coiled in anticipation. The tension, his constant companion since the day in her studio, ebbed out of Jason’s shoulders at the sight of her. 
Izzy
. Not for the first time in fifteen years, she’d occupied more of his mind than he wanted to admit.