HH02 - A Reclusive Heart (8 page)

probably had other men groaning. He was not one of them and didn't care if she looked good, really good, he decided absently

a second later as he ran his eyes over her legs one more time.

"Mmmhmm," he said, forcing his eyes up and over a sinfully tight short black cocktail dress covered body. Much better

than that frumpy suit she wore the other day, he decided. "You obviously got lost on your way from your room to my room so I

came to help you," he explained tightly, mentally daring her to argue.

He wasn't having it. Not tonight. He had too much to do and not enough time to do it in. If this tour was going to work then

he needed to have her onboard and doing whatever he told her to do with minimal bullshit.

"Okay, I'm ready to go," she said meekly as she stood and headed for the door with her shoulders slumped and her eyes on

the floor.

What the hell?

Not that he was complaining. He wasn't, but he just hadn't expected it to be this easy. Hopefully this would be the last

little act of rebellion that he'd have to deal with from her. At least it damn well better be, he decided as he followed after her.

********

As discretely as she could she leaned to the side to see who was screaming, only to groan. A large woman wearing a

homemade t-shirt with her penname plastered on it was jumping up and down excitedly with five other women sporting the

same shirt.

Maybe it was time for a break? she thought, shooting a hopeful glance towards Nick only to see him shake his head firmly,

once. That's all it took for her to paste the weak smile back on her face and turn around in her chair to greet her next fan.

Only an hour into this and she wasn't sure that she could do it any longer. This was too much for her. She wasn't used to

this much attention and every time a new person stepped up for her autograph she had to fight back a surge of panic that

threatened to drop her to her knees. This wasn't her. If last night had taught her anything it was that she couldn't handle things

like this.

Why the hell had she sold her business and taken this job? Because she was an idiot and thought that if she forced herself

into a situation then her survival skills would kick in and she'd be able to acclimate. It was a really stupid plan, she decided as

she signed her name, barely able to register what the person in front of her was saying. When she walked away smiling, Jamie

felt her shoulders slump in relief only to tense right back up when the next person stepped up.

This was a bad idea. She couldn't do this. She didn't care if they sued her and demanded that she give all the money back.

She just couldn't do this. This wasn't her life and she didn't want it to be, not anymore, and definitely not after last night. She

needed to go home to her small lonely apartment and resign herself to the fact that she was meant to be alone forever.

"Excuse me," she said, her voice shaking as she stood up and knocked her chair over. She felt her face burn as every head

turned in her direction with looks of amusement and confusion.

Why the heck hadn't she snuck out of her room this morning and made a run for it? She wanted to, planned to, but just as

she grabbed her bag Nick banged on her door and demanded that she get her buns going so they could prepare for this morning,

but nothing, not the three hour lecture or the pointers that he gave her had prepared her for this. She hoped that she'd be able to

deal once she sat down at the small table covered with stacks of her books, but she'd been wrong, so wrong.

The moment she stepped into the large ballroom she felt the same discomfort she'd felt last night when she'd stepped into

the club. All day yesterday and up until last night she'd felt excited and even giddy at the prospect of trying new things. That all

ended the moment she stepped into the club.

Within seconds she realized that she didn't belong, but wouldn't allow herself to leave. As she made her way to the bar

she prayed that no one would notice her, but they sure banged into her. Once she found a seat she sat down and refused to

leave. After thirty minutes she somehow managed to grab the bartender's attention and got a drink, because by that point she'd

needed sugar, badly.

All of her excitement and plans ended the moment she saw the dance floor. She'd been intrigued even as she felt her

newfound self-esteem deflate. She didn't know how to dance and was too scared to give it a try and she wanted to, so badly,

but couldn't bring herself to take a risk. She was weak and as pathetic as Caitlyn said and this whole experience proved it.

"Are you okay?" the older woman standing in front of her asked with grandmotherly concern that should have eased some

of her panic, but it didn't. She needed to get out of here now.

"Excuse me," she said, swallowing as she took a step back. "I-I just need a drink of water."

"Here you are, J.L.," Nick said smoothly as he handed her an ice cold bottle of water. He picked up her chair, put an arm

around her shoulders and helped her back into her seat.

She looked up at him, sending him a pleading look, but he ignored it. He flashed a smile at the woman in front of them that

had the other woman blushing.

"I hope you'll forgive me. I should have brought her a bottle of water an hour ago," he said charmingly to the woman, but

the way he maneuvered her back into her seat both impressed and irritated her. "I'm very sorry, J.L.," he said with an innocent

smile as he jammed his foot behind her chair to stop her from escaping again.

"Thank you," she said, forcing a smile as she made a show of opening her water and taking a sip.

"He's so sweet. You're so lucky to have someone like him helping you," the woman gushed and Jamie was tempted to tell

the woman that she was more than welcome to take him when he gave her a nudge.

"Thank you," she said, already guessing the reasoning behind the nudge to her side. "I don't know what I'd do without

him," she said with that forced smile even as her brain screamed for her to do something else.

Run
.

"I'll be right here if you need me," Nick said, taking two steps back to lean against the wall. To anyone else it probably

sounded sweet and considerate, but she knew damn well that it was a threat.

If she tried to move so much as an inch out of her chair he'd be all over her. The message was clear, if she moved he'd

drag her right back and probably staple her butt to the chair. Knowing it was useless to argue, she pasted that smile back on her

face and forced herself to get through the rest of the signing.

For the next eight hours she put up with him shoving water at her as an excuse to remind her to keep her butt in the chair,

forced to take pictures with fans even though the whole thing made her feel uncomfortable and four denials for a bathroom

break. When she told him that she was hungry and asked for a break he handed her a stale package of crackers he'd bought out

of the vending machine in the hall.

By the end of the whole thing she was mad, exhausted, humiliated and more than done with Nick Quinn. She might be

stuck doing this because of her contract, which he reminded her of thirteen times throughout the day, but that didn't mean she

was going to be stuck with him.

"Where are you going?" he demanded as she walked past his room and headed for her own.

"We need to discuss our strategy for the interviews tomorrow," he said, gesturing towards his room, but she ignored him

and kept going.

She grabbed her room card, jammed it into the slot on her door's electronic lock and kept jamming it until Nick took it out

of her hand with a bored sigh.

"What the hell are you doing, Miss. Harris?" he asked as he opened her door and handed her back the keycard.

"First, I'm going to order the biggest steak this hotel has since you starved me," she said, sending him a narrowed eye

glare. "Then I'm going to call Rick and ask him to replace your psycho butt!" she snapped as she went to slam the door shut in

his face.

He stopped the door with his foot and hand and shoved it open. Knowing it was pointless to try and shove him out of her

room since he easily outweighed her by a hundred pounds she walked over to her bag,
er
purse, and dug through it.

"You signed a contract, Miss. Harris," he reminded her tightly. "You have a contractual duty to finish this tour. You can

call Rick up and complain all you want, but it won't change a damn thing."

"I already know that," she bit out distractedly as she dumped her purse over and of course more than half of her

belongings tumbled off the bed and onto the floor. "I made a promise and I intend to keep it," she said, frowning when she

didn't spot her phone among the contents on the bed. With a small groan she dropped to her knees and began searching through

the mess on the floor. She shoved aside a paperback, checkbook, tampons, half a roll of Lifesavers and still no cell phone. She

blew a loose strand of hair out of her face as she looked around the beige rug. Where the heck was her phone?

"Then I see no reason why you need to call Rick," he said.

She had to snort at that. "Of course you don't."

"If you're upset about the amount of work that we have ahead there's nothing that I can do about that. Those are the

obligations we have and if we want your launch to be a success we have to do it," he explained slowly as if he were talking to

a child, further irritating her.

"I have no problem with the work," she admitted as she peered under the bed and sighed. It wasn't there either.

"Then what's your problem?" he demanded.

"You," she snapped, not even bothering to look up at him.

"You need me, Miss. Harris," he explained, sounding pissed. "I'll guide you through this process, get you into the best

venues and make sure you're a success."

"Anyone from your company could do that," she pointed out, wondering where her phone had run off to.

For a moment he didn't say anything and she was glad. It gave her a chance to focus all of her attention on finding her

phone and figuring out what the heck she was going to say to Rick. She didn't want to get him in trouble despite how much he

irritated her, but she didn't see any way around it. If she didn't say something he'd walk all over her and that's the last thing she

needed right now, especially after last night.

"Finally," she mumbled when she spotted the sleek black phone peeking out from the corner of the light tan couch. She

reached out to grab it only to gasp when a large tan hand swiped it up. She turned her glare up at him.

"You need me," he said as he put her phone in his pocket, probably thinking that she wouldn't make a grab for it.

He was right, darn it!

"No, I don't," she argued tightly as she came to her feet, holding her hand out expectantly.

"Really?" he asked with a cocky arch of his brow that she didn't like, not one bit.

"Really!" she snapped back.

"Then how do you expect to get through your
list
without my help?" he asked, and judging by his smug grin she didn't have

to ask what list he was referring to. "Face it, Miss. Harris. You need me."

Chapter 8

This was going to be too easy, he thought as his little recluse looked up at him through wide eyes as her mouth worked

soundlessly. After her little rebellion last night he should have realized the odd little list he'd come across late last night would

be the key to getting her under his control, but he'd still been angry that she hadn't jumped when he told her to. That was fine

because now it seemed that he could offer her what she desperately needed.

Him.

The only reason she agreed to come along on this tour was to try new things and apparently she desperately wanted to get

out there and expand on that little goal, but there was only one problem with that. She was shy, painfully so. That was the

reason she didn't leave her barstool last night and the reason why she damn near bolted every time someone said hello to her

today. If the only way to get her to stay and start behaving was to go through each item on her list with her then that's what he

would do.

If it meant that she would listen to him then he'd do all the things on her list that had him rolling his eyes last night. Half the

things on her list he'd done before and actually enjoyed so that wouldn't bother him. Of course the only way to have time to do

anything on her list was to get their work done. She'd realize that and work her cute little ass off and do what he told her to do.

Then he'd help her get through her list, but only if she did everything that he wanted first.

"I-I don't need you to do that list," she mumbled pathetically even as a bright red blush crept up her cheeks, painting her a

liar.

"So you'll be able to do all of those things on your list?" he asked before adding, "by yourself?"

She worried her bottom lip as she shifted nervously in front of him, but she didn't say anything because they both knew the

truth. Without him she wouldn't have the balls to do anything on her list. There was a reason why she was a little recluse after

all. She was too damn afraid to get out there and grab life by the balls. Without him she'd only be able to write about life