“And?” Jordan stumbled toward me. “When is the party?”
“It was supposed to be this weekend.” Max started tugging at the collar of his shirt. “Leaving three months without sex . . . but now—”
“Now,” I said cheerfully, “she’ll make you keep your promise, because what happened the last time you didn’t keep your promise? Oh, that’s right, she said, and I quote, ‘Max, prove to me you love me. Keep this promise, just this once.’”
Jordan was full-on leaning against me. Too much whiskey—hell, too much Max—did that to a person. Laughing, she shrugged. “So what, Max can’t have sex for a few months. Who cares?”
“Me!” Max roared. “I care!”
Jordan kept laughing.
“I’ll get you for this, jezebel!” He thrust his finger at her.
“Whoa!” She held up her hands. “You started this, not me!”
Max nodded his head. “Too many uncontrollable factors . . . I should have taken Reid’s shrewdness into consideration.”
“So.” I clapped my hands. “Looks like I have to start taming my shrew.” I held out my arm to Jordan. “Shall we?”
“No,” she yelled, then stomped her foot. “I hate you! I won’t go anywhere with you, you horrible man!” She let out a drunk giggle.
“Oh, oh, shucks.” I snapped my fingers. “Guess this is going to take longer than I originally thought.”
Max glared. “I’ll get you for this.”
“Do say hi to your fiancée for me.” I saluted him with my middle finger and walked Jordan out of his office.
CHAPTER NINE
JORDAN
I was tipsy.
The Britney-glammed elevator dipped, and I gripped the railing on the side and tilted my head as “. . . Baby One More Time” started playing. I could have sworn the Britney poster was moving. All I needed was a schoolgirl outfit and I’d be all set to star in my own music video. Then again, I’d probably end up getting arrested, because that was JUST the type of day I was having. I could see it now—Reid Emory’s newest publicist arrested for pretending to be a teenage woman and hitting on a minor after chasing him down the street over a stolen doughnut.
Whoa. I swayed on my feet. How did I get from schoolgirl outfit to doughnut? Or taking advantage of minors?
“Hey.” Reid elbowed me as the elevator finally rumbled to a stop. “You did good in there.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice to be slur-free as I continued digging my fingers into the metal rail.
The doors opened.
I didn’t move.
Afraid that if I did I’d puke.
Just how much did I drink up there?
“It happens.” Reid gripped my arm and led me gently out the doors. “He has that effect on people.”
“I have . . .” I cleared my throat and widened my eyes, thinking, Surely if I go all owl-eye on Reid, I won’t look intoxicated. Right, because not blinking really sells someone on your sobriety, said no person ever. “No idea.” I licked my dry lips. “What you’re referring to.”
Reid released my arm and very gently pushed my body with his pointer finger. I nearly toppled over—would have, had he not grabbed me again and sighed. “That’s what I’m talking about. Don’t blame yourself. It’s the Max effect.”
“But we won.” I nodded. “Or actually, you won, with your quick thinking. Now we can just pretend we hate each other.” I frowned. “No, wait, that won’t work. We still have to date and convince the media that you’re taming me.” My head started to pound. “I’m starving. Are you starving?”
Reid said nothing and just held me closer to his body.
“You smell like—” I inhaled his shirt, my nose plastered against it like a hound ready to chase a coon across the country. “Sexy sex cologne.”
“Oh?” Reid nodded. “Good, because that’s what I was doing the whole time you were tossing back whiskey upstairs, having sex so that my natural musk would attract perfect strangers.”
“You were?”
“Jeez, where do you live? I need to get you home.”
It started to rain. “I live in a pond.” I spread my arms wide, then toppled forward, my purse falling down around my wrist. I swung it around in the air like an ax. “Under the sea . . .” I giggled, then started wiggling my hips. “Under the sea, down where it’s wetter, down where it’s better, take it from me!” Somehow I’d taken on a very convincing accent. I was seriously hilarious. Why wasn’t Reid dying of laughter?
Reid grinned. Then pulled out his cell and snapped a few photos.
“That good, huh?” I winked, then nearly fell backward down the concrete stairs leading to the street.
“Yeah, Sebastian, words can’t describe. So I took a picture. Might post it to Facebook later, tag you in it, add a few choice hashtags, like #sebastianlives, #savecrabseatshrimp, and #Girlsgonewildtheshrewedition.”
I saw two Reids. My stomach plummeted, sinking to my feet. “Ugh, I don’t feel so good.”
“Well, you look awesome.” Reid grabbed my hand.