Overtime Play (8 page)

“I’ll fix this,” offered Chad. “This can be fixed.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Chad blinked at him. “You’ve been walking around this station breathing fire because of that woman and you don’t want me to fix this?”

“What do you mean, breathing fire?”

“I mean, you’ve been a dick. Yelling at Rick for putting too much cream in your coffee. Questioning Becky about the wall color. Telling poor Andrew to throw his mixed CDs off the roof.”

Jeremy didn’t say a word. He knew his friend was right. He’d been a total prick the past week. But how could he concentrate on work when Mira occupied his thoughts every moment of the hour?

In Daytona, he’d started to envision a life with her. A life where he’d wake up every morning to find her in his arms. A life where they could speak freely to each other about all matters, like they had that memorable night in her hotel room. A balanced life. A happy life.

And then suddenly, everything had gone horribly wrong. She’d told him that he’d made her life miserable. And he’d said that awful statement about her and lousy dollar place holes.

How much more of an ass could he be?

Even so, he didn’t want to see her. The fact that he’d been so hurt by her parting words had unnerved him more than he’d ever admit. He was determined to stay away from her. Determined to regain his control. There were plenty of women who enjoyed being with him. Plenty of females who thought he was a pretty good catch. All it took was a wink and smile to seduce one of them on the spot. Whatever he wanted, he could have. He was one of the most sought after bachelors in Atlanta, and he’d be shitfaced to blow it all for some pushy file clerk.

His eyes shifted back to Chad. “I don’t want you to fix this.”

His friend snorted. “Bro, I don’t get you.”

Jeremy growled. He did not need advice from Chad this morning. He had a shitload of work to do. There were artists to book and people to supervise.

He glared at the other man. “I’m not paying you to get me. I’m paying you to get back to work.”

When his friend left, he cursed loudly, feeling like the prick he most certainly was.

****

The next morning, Mira searched the internet for jobs. There were positions for dog walkers, administrative assistants, note takers, substitute teachers, and lots more. When she saw an ad for a sales associate at The Dollar Place, she cringed. Hell nah! Been there, done that. She clicked on a search for personal assistant. Despite what she said to Jeremy in Daytona, she didn’t mind the work of a personal assistant. It was kind of fun micro-managing someone’s life. She pushed thoughts of her former boss from her mind as she applied for the position.

When her doorbell rang an hour later, a slender, dark-haired man stood in the entranceway. He had brilliant green eyes and a friendly smile. He introduced himself as Chad Howard, one of the managers at the Hot .. She immediately recognized his face and voice. He was the one who’d left the message.

“You!”

His eyebrows lifted. “Me?”

“Don’t try to play innocent, pal. You and that, that,
man
can go to hell!” She tried to shut the door in his face, but he held it open with a stubborn foot.

“Believe me, we’re already there. Please, Ms. Perrin, may I come in? I’d like to apologize.”

She opened her mouth to respond but didn’t know what to say to that. Dammit. He looked truly remorseful. And it wasn’t in her nature to rip into a man who was truly remorseful. She growled for him to come in and led him to the living room, dodging an onslaught of candy wrappers along the way.

“I had a party,” she explained, wanting him to know that she hadn’t drowned her face in the sweets in misery, which she had.

“Must’ve been some party.”

“Get on with it, Mr. Howard.”

“You know,” he said with a small grin, “I really put my foot in my mouth. It’s one of my worst qualities.” He took a step forward, his expression contrite. “Jeremy didn’t know about the message. It wasn’t his intent to treat you like…”

“A whore?”

“Ye-yeah,” he stammered. “I was only goofing around when I said that.”

“Hilarious,” she snapped. She concentrated on cleaning the surrounding mess. “Did he tell you to come?”

“No, he doesn’t know I’m here.”

Mira sighed heavily. Why hadn’t Jeremy come himself? Because he doesn’t care, girl. When are you going to get it through that thick skull of yours? “Look, I appreciate you trying to make this right, but what’s done is done. Now I must ask you to leave.”

“He cares about you, Ms. Perrin.”

“I’m just another one of his playthings.”

“No, you’re not. Jeremy isn’t like that. He has the reputation of being an u
̈
ber-celebrity who sleeps around, but in reality he’s just a normal guy. Surely you don’t believe those tabloid rumors, Ms. Perrin.”

She wrestled with her hands, her confusion growing.

“Look,” continued the man, “if you want proof, didn’t your Uncle receive something important in the mail recently?”

“How do you know about that?”

“I have my sources.”

Her heart leaped. Then it was true. Jeremy
had
been the mysterious donor. Of course he had. Hadn’t he looked at her with such concern whenever she talked about Uncle Leo? Hadn’t he made it clear that he didn’t like the fact that she worked herself like a dog? He’d wanted to lessen her burden. To comfort her in some small way. Perhaps he hadn’t done it just to clear his conscience. Maybe he really did care for her.

She glowed with happiness, her love for him so strong. Even so, fear that he would never forgive her for how she’d behave held her back.

“It’s too late, Mr. Howard.”

Suddenly he was by her side, and she crying on his shoulder.

“There’s one thing I’ve discovered in all of my years of working in the entertainment industry,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“It’s never too late for a second chance…for a comeback.”

****

Jeremy rubbed his red eyes as he sat in the sound room of his station. He hadn’t worked the late night shift in over a year, but Chad had insisted that he deejay tonight since one of his employees was out sick and no one was around to pick up the slack. Feeling ashamed for his recent behavior toward his staff, he wanted to chip in and help.

Even so, he was still in a bad mood. A dark cloud had hung over him throughout the day, and from what he could tell, it wasn’t going to dissipate anytime soon. He frowned, thinking about how he’d behaved toward his sisters that afternoon when they’d stopped by to hang out. He couldn’t seem to laugh when they’d made fun of the sports DVD comedies collection in his office, something they always did to cheer him up. Instead, he’d yelled at them about their overbearing silliness.

It was all her fault. Why couldn’t he forget her?

He cracked his knuckles and growled into the microphone. The segment followed believers of the strange and unusual. For the past hour, he’d listened to stories about UFOs, government conspiracies, and ghosts. It wasn’t his thing, but the listeners lived for it.

On the other side of the screen, Chad waved that there was a new caller on the line. He clicked the yellow button and switched to his DJ voice.

“Hello, you’re listening to Hot ., the midnight shift, what’s your weirdness?”

“Hello?” The woman’s deep voice caught his attention.

“What’s your weirdness, ma’am?”

“Am I on the air?”

“You sure are, so tell us about the things that go bump in the night, the midnight freaks, the monsters under your bed. What’s your weirdness?”

“Well, I once worked at a store late at night—a dollar store.”

Jeremy tapped his fingers on the dashboard. Would the woman get to it already? “Yes, go on.”

“And well, one night this man came in and bought fifty pairs of ladies underwear.”

His heart stuttered. A slow smile unraveled across his face. It was Mira. An incredible sense of joy and relief ripped through him as he recognized her voice, which she had tried to hide by speaking as low as a bass drum.

He chuckled. “Maybe the man was having a hell of a party, ma’am.”

“Maybe. But that’s not the story I want to tell.”

“Go on.”

“Well, one night I worked there this guy came in and got me fired.” She retold how they first met.

Sweat trickled from his forehead as he leaned toward the microphone. “Do you forgive that guy for that night and any other stupid shit, um, stuff he might’ve done or said?”

Her voice purred like a cat. “Oh, I most definitely do. You see, I’ve done some pretty dumb things myself.”

His hand gripped the sides of the dashboard. Mira…she was always too forgiving.

“Sometimes a woman has to be smart enough to admit she’s wrong.”

He growled into the microphone. “Where are you, Mira?”

“I’m in the parking lot.”

Clicking on a commercial segment, he rushed to the door as Chad hollered that he would fill in for him with a knowing grin. Jeremy raced through the empty hallways.

When he made it to the parking lot, Mira stood under the soft glow of the streetlight. She wore a simple black dress and silver sandals. Her braids fell around her face in soft rolls. She looked beautiful.

My God, he loved this woman. When he took her in his arms, he felt whole, complete. Like everything he ever wanted was finally there for the taking. At the realization, he buried his head in the crook of her neck, shaken to his roots. After a calming breath, he untangled himself and looked into her dark, loving eyes.

“I’m sorry for everything, Jeremy. I didn’t mean what I said. I liked being your personal assistant. And I hated that I slapped you. I don’t slap people! And when I found out what you did for Uncle Leo…”

“Who told you?”

“I put two and two together.”

“Mira, that thing about The Dollar Place…I was way out of line. You deserve so much more.”

She smiled, embracing him tighter. “All that matters is that we have each other. And guess what? I got a job. As a PR rep.”

“Congratulations, sweetheart.”

Jeremy stared into her smoky brown eyes. He’d finally found the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

“I love you, Mira.”

“I love you, too.”

He chuckled. “You just enjoy parroting me, don’t you?”

She grabbed a handful of his ass and squeezed. “What do you plan on doing about it, sir?”

“Any suggestions?”

“I know,” she whispered, placing her hand above his heart. “How about you give me a little overtime play? I think I’ve earned it.”

“Whatever you say, ma’am. Whatever you say…”