He turned his attention back to his friend. “If you weren’t pissed at me, why have you been in a bad mood for the past few years?”
Ethan shrugged. “Why else? A woman.”
“NO ONE WANTS ME THERE,” Charity said, as she sat in the passenger seat of Josh’s car.
“I want you there,” he said.
They were in the parking lot of a local television studio where a reporter from one of the sports networks was going to interview Josh.
While she appreciated the invitation and all, she wasn’t sure how to tell him everything about this situation made her uncomfortable. She knew she and Josh were involved, but this felt too much like being a celebrity girlfriend. Like she was hanging on to get noticed by the media. It reminded her that once Josh started racing again, his world would be totally different from hers.
She angled toward him, intent on explaining. But before she could speak, he said, “I had a fling with her.
Years ago. Right after the divorce.”
It took Charity a second to put the pieces together.
“The reporter?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You had sex with her?”
He nodded, looking chagrined. “Kind of.”
She didn’t know if she should be hurt or annoyed. “Why did you agree to the interview?”
“It was set up by the race committee. They sent me an e-mail and asked me, so I said yes. We need the publicity. I hoped it wouldn’t be Melrose doing the interview, but it is.” He stared at Charity. “I’m not interested in her. What happened before was a mistake.
A really stupid one.”
She could accept that, but she was still confused. “You had to know this could get you in big trouble with me. So why did you risk that and bring me?”
He cleared his throat and shifted his gaze to the window. “She, ah, called to talk to me a couple of days ago. She sounded really happy that we were going to be spending some time together. Too happy.”
If Charity didn’t know better, she would swear there was a hint of fear in Josh’s eyes.
“And?” she prompted.
“I knew it would be awkward. Having you around makes things more clear.”
The annoyance and hurt faded. “You’re scared of her.”
He stiffened. “I’m not scared.”
“You’re terrified.”
“It’s not like that.”
She grinned. “You expect me to protect you.”
“I thought it would be nice if people knew we were together.”
Did he really expect her to believe that? “Josh, you’ve been this famous guy for years. You must have a lot of experience at telling women no.”
“I do, but it’s different now. I don’t go to parties and hang out with Hollywood types.”
“You were great with Emily.”
“That was different.” He stared out the front window. “If you’d rather wait in the car, I understand.”
She could almost hear the pout in his voice. “I’ll come with you,” she said as she opened her door. “And do my best to protect you from the big, bad reporter.”
They walked into the studio and were greeted by a production assistant. She introduced herself as Brittany, looked as if she couldn’t be more than twelve, but showed absolutely no interest in Josh. Refreshing, Charity thought. Unusual, but refreshing.
They walked past the sets used for the local news and the various cable access shows. Brittany pointed to a small area with a green-screen background and two upholstered chairs facing each other.
“You’ll do the interview there. Melrose asked for the green screen so she can load in graphics later.” She glanced at Josh. “You’ve done this sort of thing before, right?”
He nodded.
“Great. The makeup girl wants to pat you down with some powder, but we’re doing a sports interview. No one expects you to be pretty.”
“Oh, but you already are,” Charity whispered.
Josh shot her a glare. She did her best not to laugh.
“She’s in there,” the assistant said, pointing to a door and moving down the hall. “Yell if you need me.”
Josh paused in front of the closed door, but before he could knock, it burst open.
“Finally,” a throaty but feminine voice purred. “If you knew how I’d been counting the hours.”
Josh dropped his hand to Charity’s waist and pushed her in the room first. Charity felt like the sacrificial goat in some pagan ceremony. She stepped into a plain room with a large, well-lit mirror, a few chairs, a sofa and a long counter. But what really caught her attention was the woman standing by the mirror.
She was tall, maybe five-ten or eleven, with flaming red hair that tumbled in loose curls down to the middle of her back. Her body was lean, yet curved in all the right places and br**sts the size of melons spilled out of a low-cut blouse.
Melrose wasn’t just beautiful, Charity thought, feeling as if there wasn’t enough air in the room. She was perfect. The boobs didn’t look real, but they suited her. Melrose was a walking, breathing male fantasy. Charity went from sacrificial goat to invisible.