Chapter 2

"Are you in London just for the interview or for other reasons, too?" I asked, the words tumbling out of my mouth in a rush.

"Other reasons. We're recording a couple of songs here. Didn't know if I'd have time for interviews, but they begged me to come on only a few days ago. I figured, why not?"

"Right," I replied and looked up.

Our eyes met, and I was pretty sure we were thinking the same thing. I'd been ditched from the schedule because they'd managed to persuade him to come instead. And they didn't have the courtesy to tell me.

"I wouldn't have agreed to do it if I'd known they were going to cut someone else from the show," he said quietly a moment later.

"It's not your fault. I'll probably have to go home and come back another day. It's not that big a deal," I replied, embarrassed again. "It's not as if I can force them to interview me anyway."

I sighed and pulled out my cell phone to quickly message my agent and let them know what was happening. He was going to be more than a little angry. Keith O'Sullivan was a friend of his and had shafted him.

After tapping away for a moment, I realized Jack was still staring at me, now sitting back, his strong arms folded across his T-shirted chest. On his hands were multiple rings and tattoos, and my eyes were drawn to them.

I gulped as I wondered if the silence was awkward again.

"So, tell me more about what you do. What sorts of stories do you like?" he asked, not hiding his interest in me or trying to make me feel more comfortable.

While part of me found it intimidating, the rest of me began to feel a little braver. Talking about my interests was something I could do.

"Fantasy," I replied. "Urban fantasy and epic fantasy mostly, but I've dabbled in most sub-genres."

"Like elves and stuff?"

I nodded, "Like Tolkien, and then those races put into the modern day, like dragons in LA."

"Sounds like a lot of fun. Does it pay well?"

"It pays the bills, and each new series seems to do a little better than the last. I'm not making millions, but I'm at the point where I'm having TV interviews now. This was supposed to be my first," I said as I sighed.

Before either of us could say anything more, the assistant returned.

"Look, I know you think you're supposed to be here today, and we've clearly told you that," the woman said, ignoring Jack and looking straight at me. "But I'm afraid Mr. O'Sullivan is adamant. He's interviewing Mr. Starling today."

"No," Jack said as he got to his feet again. "Tell O'Sullivan that he can interview us both or neither of us. Let's not waste anyone's time unnecessarily."

"But we don't have any questions prepared for Miss Fernsby."

"It's Mrs. Fernsby, actually. My husband and I might be separated and getting a divorce, but I'm still married for now, and you must have questions prepared because you sent them to me," I replied, holding out the sheet of paper I still clutched and feeling a lot braver knowing I had such a powerful ally.

The woman gaped at us for a moment before she took the questions and added them to the stack she carried on top of her folder.

"Right. I'll go inform Mr. O'Sullivan, but he isn't going to like it, and we'll struggle to get you both through makeup in time."

"You'd best get someone to come to us and begin while you're on your way, then," Jack added. "Or tell us where to go, and I'll make sure we're both ready on time."

She seemed to hesitate again but nodded and gave him directions. It was clear he understood them, a good indicator he'd been here before.

"Come on," he said to me as soon as she'd left. "Let's make this an interview to remember."

I smiled, feeling a rush of warmth as gratitude swept over me. He'd handed me a lifeline and my dignity all at the same time.

I let him lead me through doors and down corridors with a confidence I marveled at, and then we were in a larger room with several chairs in front of mirrors. There were three women standing at one end of the room. They looked our way, pausing in the middle of looking over makeup samples.

"We need to both be ready for O'Sullivan's show," Jack said by way of introduction. Immediately, two of the women came forward and headed toward the chairs.

I did the same, almost copying his actions as he sat in one.

For a moment, there was silence as the women pulled out makeup and brushes. The woman closest to me smiled as she looked me over.

"Do you mind if I take all this off and start again?" she asked.

"Go for it," I replied and heard Jack chuckle.

"This is her first interview. Make sure she looks stunning," he said.

"Yes, boss," she replied, flicking him a grin and pulling out some wipes. Within only a few minutes, she'd removed all the makeup I wore and revealed my naked face.

It felt a little strange to be surrounded by people I didn't know and letting them decide details about what I wore and how I looked, but every time the makeup artist had a decision to make, she asked Jack what he thought and which shade of lipstick, eye shadow, or style to choose instead of me.

Not sure what else to do, I let them pick it all and continued to sit and be made glamorous.

We were almost finished and trying to determine if I needed to emphasize my eyes a little more when the flustered assistant came in.

"O'Sullivan has agreed to interview you both on one condition."

"What's that?" Jack shot back as his artist finished him and declared him good to go on stage.

"He wants to change the questions slightly. The research team found some areas of your lives and work that relate and cross and would like to ask you about them in relation to each other to make it feel more like a joint interview."

"Sounds wonderful," Jack replied. "I'm sure we can be accommodating and answer on the fly if needed."

Again, he'd answered for me, but I could do no more than open my mouth to try and ask what area of our lives appeared to be related before the assistant was gone again.

I had to close it again as my artist added a slight detail near one eye and then leaned back to get a better look. Jack came over, standing behind my chair and staring at me in the mirror.

"Perfect," he declared. "The writer transformed."

The artist moved so I could get up, and then Jack took my hand and led me somewhere else entirely.

"Thank you," I called over my shoulder, Jack already at the door on the other side of the room from where we entered and going through it.

It felt strange to have my hand in his, but his grip was a strange combination of light and firm. I would've had to tug hard to remove my fingers from his.

We were soon in a much more comfortable-looking room, a large sofa along one wall with a few chairs on either side. On a small table were drinks and snacks, no doubt laid out for him.

He took me to the sofa and sat, giving me little choice but to follow. While I tried to get comfortable and have my mind catch up to what was happening, he grabbed a couple of bottles of water, unscrewed the lids, and poured them into two nearby glasses.

"To your first interview," he said as he held mine up to me and gave me that lopsided, amused grin again.

I took it, hoping my hands wouldn't shake too badly. Not only was I about to be interviewed, but right now, I was sitting beside one of the most gorgeous men on the planet, and I had his complete attention.

When I woke up this morning, I'd been sure the day would go its own way and nothing like I imagined it might, but this was a whole new level of unexpected. And I wasn't sure how to handle it.