Since I didn’t expect to be giving a speech, I’m not prepared for the onslaught of public attention. I keep walking and say nothing. This isn’t my thing.
“Jasper, they’re calling you the city’s white knight. How does that make you feel?” This question comes from a different male voice.
Not great.
“Jasper Storm, can we get an interview?”
The questions just keep coming.
“We’ll answer questions tomorrow once the petition passes,” Will tells everyone, with a confidence in the vote he’s had since day one.
“Jasper. I’m Eve Hepburn. I’d like to know what it feels like to rebuild on a place this city has held sacred for so long.”
The words Fuck you sit on the tip of my tongue.
“Keep moving,” Will prompts.
High-heeled red shoes seem to be following me. “Let me ask my question in a different way. Why not build elsewhere?”
I want to scream, “Because something inside me won’t let the idea go. Because my father died there. Because I don’t know the fuck why!” But I don’t. Instead, I remarkably remain silent.
“Do you really think you’re doing the city a justice, or just yourself, by choosing that piece of property to build on?”
This bitch just won’t stop. I don’t even look at her. It takes all I have not to flip her the bird.
“Do you make it a habit to sleep with every woman you meet?” It’s the same voice.
What the fuck does that have to do with anything?
“You’re doing great. Drew and Jake are only a few feet away. Don’t say anything and just keep moving.” Will’s voice is calm. He must know I’m about to blow.
Glancing straight ahead, I don’t look at a single one of the reporters or photographers and ignore all of their lame attempts to get my attention.
Instead, my gaze lands on the girl with blue streaks in her hair holding a shot in each hand.
I head her way with one thing in mind . . .
I need to get the fuck out of here.
UNDER THE HOOD
Charlotte
LOOKING AT PICTURES of Jasper Storm is like exhaling a long, shaky breath. His name sounds like one, too: Jasper Jackson Storm.
He is without a doubt a lethal mix of visceral male testosterone and rebel. With his mess of light brown hair, matching light brown eyes that just look like they could peg you where you stand, and a body that must make every female in his vicinity yearn for him, there is no mistaking him in a crowd—that’s for sure.
The hotel room is small enough without Eve standing over my shoulder. I glance back at my roommate for the next two nights and force myself to not feel stifled.
She’s looking at my screen as the candid photos transfer from my inexpensive Canon to my computer so I can email them to my boss. “He really is good-looking. I’ll give him that¸” she comments, pulling me from my inappropriate thoughts.
My belly flips as I turn back and continue to study the photos. “Yes, he is.”
“I might even go as far as to say he’s hot.”
I nod in agreement and shift uncomfortably in my chair.
“How tall do you think he is?”
With a shrug I answer, “Just over six feet.”
“How much do you think he weighs?” She calls the question over her shoulder as she heads down the hallway.
“One-ninety at the most, I’d say. He’s pretty lean.”
She pulls the straps of her shoes down, slips them off, and looks in the mirror. “Would you say he wears boxers or briefs?”
Making a list of what I need to accomplish, I’m not even sure how to answer her question. “I wouldn’t have a clue.”
“I’m going to say he goes commando. He just looks like the type.”
Pausing, I set my pen down. Now she has me wondering. “What’s with all the weird questions anyway?”
Eve gives me one of her signature fake smiles. “Curious, that’s all.”
My gaze returns to the pictures of him. Handsome. That’s how I’d describe him. Really handsome. Handsome as hell. Strong jaw. Sensual lips. Sharp profile. Long and lean, dressed in black slacks and a white shirt. Tie loose. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows and shoes that look brand new. Whether dressed up or down, there is no denying who he is. I swallow past the lump that forms in my throat.
Eve ducks into the bathroom, and I use the time alone to shuffle through the photos and really look at them. A few of him smiling. Some laughing with his head tipped back. One or two where I’d say he might be brooding. Others show him deep in concentration. But regardless of the emotion captured, all of them exude a confidence that can’t be denied.
“What do you think?”