Home > The Stopover (The Miles High Cl(72)

The Stopover (The Miles High Cl(72)
Author: T L Swan

“Ha, right?” he mutters.

“I’ll go make the coffees.” I stand and make my way to the kitchen. I make Aaron’s and then Molly’s, and then as I’m making mine, Jake walks into the kitchen.

“Hi, Emily.”

“Oh, hi.” I stir the coffee.

“Holy shit, get ready for a media storm tomorrow.”

“Why?”

He looks around and leans in as if not wanting anyone to hear what he has to say. “You should see what Ferrara is putting to print tomorrow.”

“What?” I frown.

“You can’t tell anyone,” he whispers.

“I wouldn’t.”

“They have new dirt on Jameson Miles. The shit is about to hit the fan.”

My eyes widen. “What? How do you know?”

“Our insider in their office has just called it through.”

“What is it?”

He looks around. “Apparently—”

Someone else walks into the kitchen, and we both step back from each other guiltily. The guy begins to make idle chitchat with Jake, and if I wait around, it will be too obvious that I am waiting to talk to him alone. Shit, I’ll come back in a minute.

I make my way back to my desk with my heart in my throat. What dirt do they have on Jay?

Oh hell, I need to find out what it is.

I keep an eye on the kitchen, and as soon as I see Jake go back to his desk, I make my way over to him, and his eyes light up when he sees me. “Hi.”

“Meet me in the photocopy room, please?” I whisper.

“Sure.”

I walk in and wait, and moments later he follows me in.

“What the hell is going on?” I whisper.

“I can’t tell you here; it’s too risky,” he says as he looks around.

“Just tell me,” I almost beg.

“Meet me after work, and I’ll tell you everything over a quick drink.”

I stare at him. “What time?”

“Six thirty?”

I think for a moment. That would still give me time to go to Tristan if I need to. “Just tell me now.”

“No way. I’ll tell you it all tonight; it’s too in depth.”

Damn it, I don’t want to meet this idiot, but if I don’t, how would I know what Ferrara is up to? If I find out, then maybe we can get an injunction and stop the story from going to print.

“Okay, fine. Where?”

“Harry’s Bar, six thirty.”

“Okay, see you there.”

I go back to my desk and look around guiltily. My heart rate is going through the roof. What dirt do they have on Jameson?

Oh no, my poor man.

Molly and Aaron are both not at their desks, and I know I have to ring Jay and let him know I’m going to be late when they can’t hear me lie and use them as my alibi.

I nervously dial his number.

“Hi,” his sexy voice purrs down the phone.

“Hi.” I begin to break into a sweat as I prepare to lie. “I’m going to go out to dinner with Molly and Aaron tonight.” I screw up my face. “Aaron is a bit down, and we’re going to try and cheer him up.”

“Oh.” He seems surprised.

“Is that okay?” I reply nervously.

“Of course it is.”

“I’ll come over as soon as I finish, and it won’t be late.”

“Okay, babe.”

“What will you eat?” I frown. I hate that I won’t be cooking for him. Looking after Jameson has become my favorite thing.

“I’ll find something; don’t worry about me.”

“Oh, okay.” I fall silent, feeling guilty.

As if sensing my inner turmoil, he asks, “Is everything all right, Emily?”

“Yes, of course. I love you. See you tonight.” I hang up in a rush before I confess my lie.

Six thirty on the dot I walk into Harry’s Bar. I’ve been here before with Aaron and Molly, so I know where it is.

Jake is in the back corner, and he waves happily when he sees me.

I smile awkwardly and make my way over to the table. A glass of wine sits there waiting for me.

“Hi.” I sit down opposite him.

“Hi. You look beautiful.” He smiles as he looks me up and down. I frown. I went home and showered and changed quickly. I hope he doesn’t think it was for him. I changed for Jay for when I see him later.

“You ordered me a drink?” I ask.

“Yes.” He smiles warmly. “I hope you like it—cab sav.”

“Thanks.” I sip it. “What’s the story about Jameson?”

He opens the menu. “Should we get something to eat?”

“I’m really not hungry,” I reply. I just want to get the information and get the hell out of here.

He keeps reading the menu. “I might get some wedges.”

“Tell me what you know,” I ask again.

“Well, it’s a tangled web.”

I sip my wine as I watch him. I’m so nervous about what he’s about to tell me that I feel sick.

“Apparently there is a huge story coming out tomorrow.”

I sip my wine. “About?”

“Well . . .” He pauses. “I think I’m going to get the wedges; do you want wedges?”

“Fine, get the wedges,” I snap.

He keeps looking at the menu, and I’m about to explode. Pick some food, you damn fool. “I’ll get the wedges,” I say as I stand in a rush. “Is that it? Is that all you want?”

“Uh-huh.”

I march to the counter. “Can I have a bowl of wedges and a trio of dipping sauces, please?”

I exhale heavily as I try to calm myself down. Just be calm.

“Emily.” I hear a voice behind me.

“Is that all?” the waiter asks me.

“Yes, please.” I smile as I turn back toward the voice that just called me.

Jake grabs my hand and kisses me on the lips.

I step back, shocked. “What are you doing?”

“Kissing you.” He smiles as he leans in to kiss me again.

I jump back and out of his reach. “What the hell, Jake? I don’t like you like that,” I snap as I wipe my mouth.

“I thought that since we were on a date . . .”

“What?” I stammer, horrified. “I came here to find out about Jameson.”

He smiles a broad, cheeky smile and then winks.

I glare at him. “There’s no breaking story, is there?”

He shrugs. “We could make the story about the wild night we spend together.”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” I snap. “I am not interested in you.”

“Oh, but you should be.” He grabs my hand again, and I push him hard in the chest.

“Stop it.”

“That will be twenty-two dollars,” the poor waiter says as he looks between us.

“I’m not paying for this imbecile’s wedges,” I snap. “Goodbye, Jake,” I say as I storm toward the door.

“Emily . . . come on. We would be great together,” he calls.

I stumble out of the bar, furious, as steam shoots from my ears. I’ve been stressed out all day, and for what?

Stupid Jake’s lie to get me on my own.

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