This Crazy Little Thing (A New Adult Billionaire Romance) (5 page)

He looked thoughtful, and she sensed he wanted to answer but feared hurting her feelings.

“I promise I won’t cry or starve myself or anything too drastic.”

“Why are you asking me this now?”

“Because I need to know. I want to know where we stand. If there’s hope—”

“Absolutely not. There’s no hope. We won’t get back together, no matter who you act like. You could pretend to be Mother Theresa and I wouldn’t change my mind.”

“I’m not pretending to be anyone.”

“No one changes this much overnight.”

“I have.”

“How?”

“I’m not exactly sure how it happened, but it did.”

“Yeah, and the minute I take you back you’ll change into the old Monica again. No thanks. I’ve had enough.”

He didn’t sound as sure as his words suggested.

“Can I ask a stupid question?”

“I guess.”

“What exactly did I do to you?”

His mouth fell open in an exaggerated show of exasperation. “Bullshit! Now you’re going to suggest you don’t remember?”

“Humor me. I want to hear it from you.”

“We’ve had this conversation once. Frankly I don’t want to go there again.”

“Please. I won’t ask again.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her, clearly expecting her to acquiesce.

“Please,” she repeated. “What happened between us? You sound bitter.”

“I have a right to be. You’ve been a conniving bitch.”

Feeling mighty exposed sitting naked in the water while he insulted her, she squirmed and moved closer to a jet, hoping the bubbles would completely hide her body. “Specifics, please.”

“You used me. You only dated me for my money. Otherwise you pretty much treated me like trash. And speaking of trash, when I stopped handing out the cash by the fistful, you dumped me like yesterday’s leftover pizza. You refused to pay your car insurance, even after costing me tens of thousands of dollars. You shamelessly flirted with all my golfing buddies until they refused to play with me and their wives threatened divorce. You stole things from my home and did God knows what with them and the last few weeks you showed absolutely no affection toward me. To sum it up, you are a stone-cold bitch. Then, after we broke up, you sold my grandmother’s art collection to a junk dealer to get even with me.”

“Wow.”

“Have you heard enough yet or do you want me to continue?”

“There’s more? No, I think I’ve heard enough. Considering all that, I’m shocked you didn’t break up with me ages ago, or at least slam the door in my face tonight.”

“I tried, remember?”

“Yeah.” She didn’t know what else to say. To Jason, she was the woman who’d done all those terrible things. He believed what he saw, like most people did. There was no convincing him of anything else.

“I didn’t say those things to make you feel bad. You wanted to hear it.”

“Yes, I did. Thanks for being honest. I think I’m ready to go to bed now.” She started to stand up but hesitated, wishing he’d avert his gaze while she dressed.

Thankfully, he seemed to sense her discomfort. He turned around and started walking toward the house. She got out of the tub and quickly put on the sweats, not caring that she was still dripping wet. Being soggy beat being nude, hands down.

In silence, she followed him inside and up the stairs. He escorted her to his room, said goodnight and left her to toss and turn, fearful of falling asleep yet hoping this experiment…or curse…or whatever it was…would end.

Maybe being plain old
Jane wasn’t so bad.

The next morning was awkward and uncomfortable as Jason drove
Jane home and waited for her to dress for work. Before they left, she listened to her messages, hoping she hadn’t missed anything else important.

Monica’s answering machine tape was full of calls from angry bill collectors threatening lawsuits, utilities threatening to shut off services, and creditors threatening everything but bodily harm. As she listened to the last one, she peered around the corner, hoping Jason hadn’t heard.

Monica made tons more money than Jane. There was no reason why she should be in such financial straights. What was she doing with her money?

Jason dropped her off at work, promising to return at noon to go car shopping during her lunch hour.

She hurried through her work and took half the day off. She needed some time to sort out some things and was anxious to get her hands on Monica’s bank statements and checkbook to try to straighten out the mess she’d gotten herself into.

Clearly being Monica Starke was not the cakewalk
Jane had expected. Yep, being plain old Jane with the little apartment and ugly but reliable car wasn’t looking so bad anymore. It sure beat people screaming for money, angry, bitter—if positively delicious—ex-boyfriends, and a workload that would keep at least three people working full-time.

Monica, the woman who had it all, didn’t have much of anything. It was all show.

What a shocker.

That afternoon, Jason gave her a polite smile as he drove her to the car dealership down the road. “I want you to pick a car that’ll hold its value and be reliable as well as inexpensive to insure.”

“I know exactly what I want.” She chose a sharp-looking, black Honda Accord, and thanks to Jason’s financial clout, had it in her possession by later that afternoon. He sent her on her way with a wave, a couple hundred dollars cash, and a “Good luck”. She responded with a “Thanks”, and headed back to Monica’s house to tackle the bills.

Regardless of whether she remained Monica forever—something she hoped wouldn’t happen since she was beginning to miss her old life—or they eventually switched back, that was one thing that had to be straightened out, no matter how difficult it might be.

Pain in the backside or not, Monica deserved to live better than this.

Jane
finished out the workweek as Monica, and was exhausted by Friday night. She didn’t know whether to be grateful for the fact that the phone didn’t ring off the hook that night with a truckload of offers to go out on dates or to parties, or be disappointed. From the way Monica had made it sound, every weekend had been an adventure. Local celebrities and hotshot business owners vied for her attendance at their gatherings.

More fantasies, she supposed.

Oh well. Maybe tomorrow night she’d venture out.

She wrangled with Monica’s checkbook for a few hours, finding a lot of unexplained checks written for exorbitant amounts that made no sense, then went to bed early and got caught up on her sleep. The next morning, refreshed, and possessing a small amount of cash after paying the most important bills—like the rent—she ventured to the grocery store and stocked the cupboards and refrigerator. That night, when she received no calls from friends with impromptu invitations, she dressed in a sexy little black dress and heels and headed to her—
Jane’s—favorite nightclub for a drink and some dancing. She wasn’t in the mood to be alone.

For one thing, she couldn’t stop thinking about Jason.

When she walked into the bar, she got a kick out of all the guys staring at her. She’d never experienced that much attention from men before. They didn’t try to hide what they were thinking as their gazes wandered over her body lustfully. It was a bit unnerving, made her feel like she was a prime piece of meat hanging in the butcher’s window, but for the most part she found it amusing.

More than one offered to buy her a drink but she refused, knowing what price she’d be expected to pay. She’d never picked up a man at a bar as
Jane and she wasn’t about to start as Monica either.

One-night stands were not her thing…but she might consider it with Jason if he’d give her the chance.

Like that was ever going to happen!

“Excuse me?” a familiar female voice called from the end of the bar. “Can I have a Bud Light?”

Jane turned her head to see who it was, knowing she recognized the voice but unable to place it. She knew who it was the instant she saw her. Beth worked in the front, answering phones, and she’d often confided to Jane that she despised Monica. At work she acted reasonably polite but not over-friendly. “Hey, Beth! I didn’t know you came here.”

Beth shifted her eyes nervously when she realized who’d spoken to her. “Oh! Hi…Monica. I don’t usually but I’m a personal friend of the lead guitarist in the band playing tonight. Remember? I told you about him.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Jane sipped her diet cola and tried to pretend she knew what Beth was talking about. “The rock star.”

“Hardly. But hopefully some day.” She paid the bartender then picked up her beer and walked toward
Jane. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t call you back. Tonight was kind of a spur of the moment thing and I assumed you were busy. You’re always so busy. If I’d known you were still free, I would have called you. Honest.”

Why was Beth befriending Monica when she’d made it so clear she couldn’t stand her? Was it out of pity or was there another reason?

Beth glanced over Monica’s shoulder, clearly looking for someone or something. “Where’s your boyfriend…what was his name?”

“Jason?”

“No, I don’t think that was it. I’m talking about the radio guy you were talking about last week. I was hoping he’d be here tonight to hear my friend’s band. I gave you their CD, remember? You promised he’d take a listen. Do you know if he did?”

Aha! The truth comes out. Beth was using Monica.

Jane wondered if there even was a radio DJ boyfriend. Knowing Monica, Mr. Radio was probably as much a figment of her imagination as so many other things had proven to be.

“I’m not sure. I haven’t spoken to him in a few days. But I’ll let you know as soon as I do.”

“That’s fine. Do you want to go backstage and meet everyone?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m not much of a groupie.”

“Come on. They’re great guys. It’ll be fun.” Beth tipped her head toward the back of the bar and the currently empty stage and smiled. “They’re getting ready to go onstage now. I’ll introduce you to them.”

Jane
wasn’t buying the let’s-be-friends act. In fact, it was making her a little sick. “No thanks. I think I’ll stay here.”

“You get to drink for free.”

“Then what are you doing buying your own beer?”

“I don’t care much for wine. That’s all those guys drink.” Beth tugged on
Jane’s arm. “I’m not going to take no for an answer. Besides, it’ll be fun to hang out during sets when they’re playing. Do you like to dance?”

“Love to.”

“Well, there you go.” Beth looked around again. “That is, unless you’re meeting someone else here tonight.”

“No, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“Good! Then you’re mine for tonight.” Full of boundless energy, Beth yanked harder on Jane’s arm until she relented and slid off the stool. Her diet cola in one hand, the other gripped firmly in Beth’s, Jane wound through the crowd toward the rear of the bar. And only after they slipped through a hidden door next to the stage did they find a little bit of elbow room.

“They’re this way.” Beth led
Jane down an ugly, dim hallway to a cramped, smoke-filled room full of mangy-looking, rock star wanna-bes and women wearing way too much makeup and too little clothing.

The men clearly appreciated what Jason hadn’t a few nights ago. Every one of their gazes settled first on her boobs before venturing anywhere else. And they took the roundabout, indirect route—down her legs and back up again—to her face.

“Hey, everyone, this is Monica. She’s the one I told you about—the one dating what’s-his-name on WDTL.”

“Cool.” One guy who looked like a throwback to the eighties—big hair bands and grotesquely tight spandex and all—grinned like the cat about to eat the canary. “A hot chick with connections. They’re always welcome. Want to do a line?” He motioned toward a card table in the far corner of the room. Another guy was bent over inhaling white powder off a mirror through a rolled-up dollar bill.

“No thanks. I don’t care for coke…at least not that kind.”

“No problem. Just trying to be hospitable. What about weed? Someone here’s got a joint burning.”

So that’s what I smell. Sure hope I don’t fail my next drug screen just because I’m standing in here inhaling secondhand smoke.
She fanned her face with her hand. “No thanks. I’m fine. Really. Beth insisted I come back here and meet everyone and I have so maybe—” With one thing in mind—escape—she turned to find the door.

One of the guys caught her wrist and held her tight. “Sure hope you aren’t planning on going anywhere yet. We haven’t had a chance to get acquainted.”

She tipped her head to look at him.

He was a scary-looking character with hair longer than she’d ever worn, and more Lycra than you’d find in a sporting goods store. His face was pocked with acne scars and, as she glanced down at the hand gripping her tightly, she saw his fingers were stained from smoking. Definitely not her type. Not even close.

“Sorry, gotta go. I’m meeting someone outside. I just remembered.”

“Yeah? Your radio boyfriend?”

“Yes, that’s it. My famous radio boyfriend who can get your CD played on his station during morning drive-time.” When he released her, she made a beeline for the door, ignoring Beth’s insistent shouts as she left.

Dragging in a few non-drug-laden breaths in the hallway, she nearly collapsed from relief then headed out toward the main part of the bar.

The minute she walked out into the large room, she caught a glimpse of him. It was Jason.

He stood casually resting a shoulder against a wood pillar chatting with a cute brunette. His smile flashed bright in the dim light and his eyes sparkled with the look of piqued interest. Immediately, the sting of jealousy burned her stomach.

He hadn’t looked at her that way, even though she thought Monica’s face and body were far more attractive than the brunette he seemed to fancy at the moment.

That woman was almost ordinary, reminded her of herself—when she had been plain old
Jane. Sure, he might not want to revisit what he’d had with Monica—for good reason—but she couldn’t imagine he’d find someone like that woman, someone like Jane Brown, attractive.

That kind of thing didn’t happen—at least not outside of the movies. In the real world, rich, good-looking guys like Jason went for the beautiful women with tight butts and perky boobs and perfect hair.

As if he sensed her staring at him, he stopped smiling and glanced her way. She immediately felt foolish, yet couldn’t stop gawking, couldn’t move. Like a deer caught in headlights, she stood frozen and gaped at him.

But a swift and unexpected swat on her ass broke the spell quick enough. Angry, shocked, flabbergasted, she spun around to see who or what had done such a thing.

Mr. Lycra Pants gave her a crooked grin, handed her something, whispering, “Here, love, hold this for me, will you?” then climbed on stage, and blew her a kiss before taking a seat behind a massive drum kit.

Ewww… She shuddered and stuffed the grimy, wrinkled cigarette pack he’d handed her into her purse.

“I see you’ve made some new friends.” Jason said from behind her.

She turned to face him, noticing his wrinkled nose which she assumed was because he didn’t exactly understand her attraction to Mr. Lycra Pants, not that she could blame him. “No, they’re not my friends.”

“Well, I’d say he thinks so,” Jason said, pointing over her shoulder.

Knowing exactly who he was pointing at, and guessing what kind of gestures the gentleman—and she used that term loosely—was making at the moment, she didn’t bother turning around. “He’s on drugs.”

“Speaking of drugs…” Jason sniffed. “I smell something…marijuana? You weren’t smoking pot, were you?”

“Oh, gosh no!” Frantic,
Jane waved her arms up and down like some deranged bird trying to take flight. “I smell like weed? I was only back there for a few minutes. Beth insisted.” She thrust her arm forward toward his nose. “Do you still smell it?”

“Back where?” He shook his head then bent to sniff her neck. “No, it’s coming from somewhere else.”

“Shoot! That’s what I get for playing groupie to a bunch of heavy metal hair band wanna-bes.” She waved her arms up and down again. “It was so smoky back there. It must have soaked into my clothes. I wish I had some perfume with me. You know I don’t do drugs, don’t you? I swear I didn’t touch the stuff.”

“Easy! I believe you.” He caught her wrists. “Now stop that before you hurt somebody.” He smiled over her shoulder and holding her hands, drew them together in front of his chest. “Sorry, she’s just showing me something she watched on Animal Planet last night.”

Jane turned to see whom he was talking to.

“Monica, who’s this?” Beth asked as she stepped around her. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

“Er…Beth, this is Jason. Jason, this is Beth. Beth and I work together.”

Jason released one of
Jane’s hands to shake Beth’s. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Beth said, almost falling over herself. The girl’s tongue was practically skimming the floor. “What do you do? All of Monica’s friends have interesting careers. Let me guess. Are you a lawyer? Doctor? Local politician?”

He released Jane’s other hand and stuffed both of his in his pants pockets. “No, nothing that…exciting. I buy and sell jewelry.”

“Oh. Cool! Next time I want some new earrings, I know where to go.” Beth gave Jason an ear-to-ear grin and twisted her hair with her fingertips. What a flirt!

To Jason’s credit, he didn’t seem to be biting, at least not this time.

“Sure,” he answered. “Monica can give you my number if you ever need it. She has my card.”

Evidently, Beth caught Jason’s subtle but definitive shutdown when he didn’t eagerly dole out his number. Her smile faded considerably. “Sounds great.”

Earsplitting music bellowed from the speakers as the band started playing.

Beth started gyrating to the beat, resembling a pole dancer without the pole. “Well, gotta go. Monica, are you coming?”

Jane
stood between Beth the pole dancer and Jason the bitter ex-boyfriend, wanting to stay and talk to Jason—if that was possible with the loud music blasting from those speakers—but knowing he was probably looking for a reason to leave.

She glanced at him to see if she could read his expression. It was rather indifferent. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you want to dance with me?” she yelled, hoping for a yes but expecting a no.

He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “This isn’t exactly my kind of music.”

She shrugged, shouting, “Mine either.”

“And the whole mosh pit thing is a little too dangerous for my blood. I’d like to avoid a trip to the emergency room tonight.”

“It’s not that wild out there. ‘Course it’s not like they’re doing the waltz either.” A silly thought struck her and she smiled. “How about we make total asses out of ourselves and slow dance?” The thought of his body pressed snugly against hers made her hotter than hot.