Calling All the Shots. Katherine Garbera

I ask,” he said, tracing a random pattern on her palm before closing his fingers over it.

      She knew he wanted something more from her and only if she kept her wits about her would she be able to protect herself from being hurt once again by Jack Crown.

      Jack felt like he was playing a part for Willow. If he had a hope in hell of making this real, he had to stop. The problem was he no longer knew who he was. It had been his problem for a while now and while it was easy to admit to himself that he was coasting through life, it was hard to figure out how to change.

      Willow was the key, he thought. Watching her on the set of Sexy & Single had been the catalyst. He did want something more from her. He wanted to feel like he was alive again. He was tired from working all the time and taking silly risks on Extreme Careers to make himself remember he was alive.

      They had finished dinner and he’d cleared the table with Willow’s help. He liked having her in the kitchen because it strongly reminded him of happy days from his youth. Not one of the women he’d dated in the past year had come into his kitchen when he’d had them over for dinner.

      Another thing that had set Willow apart was that she hadn’t pulled out her smartphone one time during their meal. Despite her initial reluctance to join him for dinner, she hadn’t been distracted by the outside world once she did.

      He put the last of the dishes on the counter and turned, leaning back against it to watch her. She glanced over at him and he could see he’d startled her.

      “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.

      He felt like he had to constantly be on his guard around her. She didn’t just relax and let herself enjoy the night. She was waiting for something to happen. Something he was supposed to do, he suspected, but he had no idea what it was.

      “I’m trying to figure out why you were so jumpy when I hugged you,” he said.

      She shrugged. “I … I just was. No need to dig deeper.”

      It was almost too easy to find out what made her tick. She gave away things he knew she didn’t mean to with her defensive attitude. She was cool and casual when he was talking about things like work but anything the slightest bit personal and she got her back up.

      “There is always a reason to dig deeper with you. You are hiding so much of the real Willow beneath a facade of calmness. You never show more than a hint of what’s going on below the surface.”

      “That’s because in our business only divas can get away with throwing a temper tantrum,” she said, then arched her eyebrow at him. “Isn’t that right?”

      “Are you trying to say I’m a diva?”

      “Not trying—I did. I wasn’t the only one who heard the dressing-down you gave Kat last week when you didn’t have an exotic fruit basket in your dressing room.”

      He almost flushed at the way she said it. “I was jet-lagged and I apologized later.”

      “I know. Kat’s used to dealing with those types of situations so it didn’t even faze her.”

      “Some days it’s harder than others,” he said. He wasn’t proud of the way he’d behaved. It was difficult sometimes—when everyone wanted a piece of you—to remember he wasn’t entitled to any of the fame he’d gotten. He tried to remind himself that his mom would have tanned his hide if she’d been alive to witness his ogreish behavior.

      “What is? Being America’s second most popular TV host?” she asked.

      “You’re being flip, but my management people and network bosses look at my Q rating every day. There is a lot of pressure to stay on top,” he said. “Plus every time I step outside someone wants an autograph or to talk about my latest exploits … and I’m not complaining. I know without those people I’d be just another washed-up ball player. Still, as I said, some days it’s harder than others.”

      She tipped her head to the side and studied him. “I know. That’s why so many people in our business are so messed up. I bet you never thought you’d have these types of problems.”

      “Definitely not. I figured I’d play football until I was thirty and then retire with my trophy wife to a large ranch in Texas Hill Country, teaching my boys how to play,” he said with a sardonic laugh. “This definitely wasn’t part of my plans.”

      “Trophy wife? Why are you trying to date me then?” she asked, crossing her arms under her breasts and giving him the same hard look she gave the cameramen when they didn’t get a shot she wanted.

      “I said that was my original idea of what my life would be. Things changed—I’m over thirty now,” he said. Willow sort of did fit his idea of a trophy wife, though—she was sexy as hell, successful in her own right and she knew how to make things happen.

      “Yes, you are, old man.”

      He liked it when she teased him. It was as if she forgot who he was outside of this apartment and she let herself relax.

      “I’m not that ancient.”

      “Nope, but you’ll always be older than me,” she said with a smile. Her phone twittered in her pocket and she gave him a wry smile. “I’ve got to check that. It keeps going off, which makes me think it might be urgent.”

      “Go ahead,” he said. “Would you like coffee or maybe an after dinner drink?”

      “Coffee would be great,” she said.

      “You can go into the living room,” he said. “I’ll bring it in.”

      She nodded distractedly as she pulled her phone from her pocket and read the message she’d received. He noticed that she chewed on her lower lip and her brow furrowed as she read.

      He watched as she settled herself on the overstuffed leather sofa he’d ordered from Italy last year before turning to make them both a cup of coffee. He carried the cups over and placed them on the coffee table, then sat down next to her on the couch. She was still tapping out a message on her phone.

      The scent of her perfume was light and floral and reminded him of spring. He stretched his arm along the back of the couch and felt the cool fall of her straight hair against his hand. He wanted to reach out and touch it, to bury his fingers in her hair, but he didn’t want to distract her. He liked being able to sit here and just watch her.

      She sighed and then put her phone on the table. “Deidre is getting cold feet. She doesn’t think that Peter is right for her and has asked for another match,” Willow said.

      “Can she do that?” he asked.

      “I guess so. I’ve sent Mona a message to see what she can do,” Willow said.

      Mona was the matchmaker at Matchmakers, Inc. who was providing all the couples at the show. Jack was surprised that this couple was having such a hard time since Mona’s instincts had been right for the other three couples that had gone before them.

      Deidre Adamson was a very popular advice columnist and television talk show host who rose to fame by turning her brutal honesty on the people who came on her show. Jack liked that kind of straight shooting. She’d been matched with the famous Peter Mullen. He was wild and a bit outrageous.

      “Peter must have done something that shook her,” Jack said. “I’ve been chatting with him a bit on the set. Do you want me to see if I can step in and fix this?”

      Willow just stared at him for a minute. This was her headache and she was used to fixing problems on her own. “How could you help?”

      “I actually know Deidre,” he said. “And I’ve had a couple of chats with Peter. My guess is that Peter said or did something that scared her.”

      “Like what?” Willow asked. She was a little embarrassed to admit that she didn’t think that Jack was sensitive enough to notice anyone else, much less be aware that they had nuances.