So. Long(78)
The fire in my gut stirs. “Well, think about it, Mr. Tremaine. What man doesn’t want the woman in his life to tell him how amazing he is on a daily basis?”
I wait, but he just sits there, smugness poised on his too handsome face. It’s as if he didn’t hear the question I asked.
“Well?” I prompt.
His eyebrows go up, fake surprise in his expression. “Oh, that wasn’t rhetorical?”
No wonder he’s still single.
I let out a huff of air. “How many men get the respect they want and deserve from the women who profess to love them? The principals in my book all come down to one thing: men aren’t as complicated as ladies think they are. They want love just like women do. The biggest difference is what they perceive as love.”
He squints as though considering my words. “Well, they do say perception is ninety percent of reality. My ninety percent says this is a load of rhino dung.”
My jaw drops.
Did he really just say that—about my book, my magnum opus, in front of billions of people?
I snap my mouth shut and glare at him. “Maybe your perception is what’s full of shit.”
His eyes widen, and his gaze darts to a man on the sidelines with a clipboard and an apoplectic vein popping out on his forehead.
“Oops, probably shouldn’t have cursed. All those pesky FCC regulations.” I smile sweetly at my asshole of a host.
Jackson nods to the vein guy, whips his feet off his desk, and holds my book up once more. “And there you have it, folks. Want to know how to get a man? Buy the book and have him in the bag by Valentine’s Day.”
He tosses the book aside and smiles directly at the camera set in the middle isle of the gallery of seats. “Our next guest, BFF to Ms. Fitz here, is pretty much her polar opposite.”
In ways he will never understand.
Jackson grins. “Leave ‘Em—remember that’s her nickname. Sorry, I can’t reveal her true identity, because she needs the anonymity to run her business. Leave ‘Em claims she doesn’t believe in true love. Well, I suppose not, considering it’s her job to prove it isn’t out there.”
Jackson stands and claps. “Please welcome our next guest. She’s the person other women hire to test the men in their lives.”
Shayna glides onto the stage—no tripping for her. She’s much too graceful as she waves and blows kisses Marilyn Monroe style. Maybe she’s taking that wig too seriously.
Shayna takes Jackson’s offered hand in both of hers as Baxter and I shuffle chairs to make room for Shayna in the seat I vacated, closest to the host.
Jackson seats my friend and takes his own chair. “So, you’re the temptress who actually tries to get men to cheat before you report back to your clients.”
“I suppose you might describe my work that way.” Shayna’s lacquered fingernail taps out a rhythm on the arm of her chair.
“You set up and ambush unsuspecting men?” Mr. Ransom shifts in his seat.
She licks her bright red lips. “I only make an overture they could easily ignore. It’s only a trap for those men already predisposed to cheat on their significant other.”
Jackson Tremaine leans forward, his elbows on his desk, chin in his hands. “So, Ms. Leave ‘Em, do you actually screw these cheating guys?”
Shayna grins. As usual, she’s unfazed by direct barbs. As a matter of fact, I’m fairly certain she likes it.
“No, I never go that far. I’m not a prostitute. I simply do my best to lure the men to willingly place themselves in a compromising position. I always stop before anything too serious happens.”
Baxter rubs his chin, as though contemplating what Shayna has said. “Never?”
“Never.” Her shades hide her rolling eyes, but I’m certain that’s what she did.
Baxter lifts one eyebrow. “Hmm.”
Jackson barks a laugh, which he unsuccessfully tries to cover with a cough. “Excuse me. I—oh hell, I can’t lie. I just had a fantastic idea.”
Our host sends a sly look toward the camera to his left before he turns his full attention to me. “So, Ms. Love ‘Em—Ronnie—would you be willing to wager that should a woman use the techniques in your book, her man won’t have the propensity to cheat, because he’d be so enamored of her and happy at home?”
Baxter Ransom coughs, and Shayna whips around to me, her mouth slightly agape.
My throat goes bone dry. “Um—well, I mean—I—”
Shayna jumps to my rescue. “A cheater will cheat, no matter how wonderful his woman is. Some guys are scum. Cheaters cheat, no matter what.”
I lay my hand on her arm. “Wait. No. I believe most people cheat because something in their relationship is lacking.”