A Reclusive Heart (Hollywood Hearts 2)

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.