Page 57 of Beg, Borrow, or Steal

“Son of a bitch, you knew the whole time, didn’t you?”

“Yep.”

“You’re lucky you’re my biggest client.”

“I remind myself of this every day. What can I do for you, Johnny?”

“I got an email from Denis yesterday.” Denis is my publicist. “I’ll give you three guesses for why he was emailing me and the first two don’t count.”

“He wants to know what shampoo I use since my hair is so luscious. He wanted to tell us he’s quitting publishing so he can pursue his lifelong dream as a zoologist. And, oh, let me see…he wants me to reveal my identity along with book four’s title onGood Morning America?”

“Damn. He emailed you too?”

“Yep.”

“Crazy he’s going to become a zoologist, huh?”

“To be honest, I saw it coming.” I’m not sure most agents could put up with my shit, but Jonathan—he’s great. A little gullible at times, but the best person I could ask for to manage my career. He was brand-new to agenting when he answered my query, and some might have found partnering with someone so inexperienced a very scary gamble. But I liked that he needed me as much as I needed him.

He was also the only agent who not only said they loved it but admitted that my manuscript was raw and needed a lot of work. All the other agents blew smoke up my ass and said it was perfect and ready to go on sub—and if there’s one thing I hate, it’s being lied to. I crave brutal honesty.

The guy was approachable, and we shared the same vision for my books. Best of all, he respected my decision to remain anonymous after I opened up to him about who my dad was. He was the only agent I felt comfortable telling. I doubt many others would have supported my choice not to ride my dad’s coattails all the way into the bookstore like Jonathan did. And he’s been true to his word that he would protect my privacy ever since. He never pushes me to tour or have a social media presence. I mean, I have accounts on all of the major platforms, but they’re mainly full of graphics and a few vague lifestyle photos that don’t show my face.

And actually, I think people like the mystery of it. Pun intended.

The more I think of Jonathan, though, the more I wonder ifhe’d be a good fit for Emily as an agent too. I want to ask him, but something tells me I need to ask Emily if she’d want that first. Maybe this is something she wants to do on her own.

“I’m sure I already know the answer, but I’m still obligated to ask. Will this be the year that AJ Ranger finally unveils himself as Jackson Bennett?”

“No,” I say firmly. “Books are selling just fine without my face being on them.”Just finewould be an understatement. My books all debut as number oneNew York Timesbestsellers…and usually hang pretty close to number one for a few months. Right there next to my dad’s.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll email Denis and tell him it’s not happening and to drop it once and for all. If you ever decide you want to step into the limelight, we’ll let him know, but I’ll make it clear it’s unacceptable for him to continue to bug you about it.”

I sigh a little with relief. “Thanks, Bonnie.”

Our conversation ends abruptly when my front door flies open and in strolls Emily. “Jack, I just heard that—”

She freezes, eyes melting over my body.

“Jonathan, I gotta go.” I hang up the phone, and Emily makes no move to turn away. She doesn’t blush. She doesn’t stagger. She stares boldly at my body, and lust is written all over her face. It’s a delight to see.

“Well, well, well. You’ve finally caught me in my pajamas,” I say, enjoying the way her eyes finally lift to mine and smirk.

“I should have known you’d be a Calvin Klein man.” The space between us pulses. Begs us to get closer. If we hadn’t been interrupted on the couch the other morning, we absolutely would have had sex. And I can’t decide yet if that would have been the best or worst decision in the world.

“What’s wrong with Calvin Klein?”

Her eyes rest on the corner of my body where my hip bonemeets with the waistband of my boxers. She looks like she’s imagining hooking her finger inside. “So high-class. Snooty.” She grins. “You can never just buy the Target brand of anything.”

“Says the woman who sleeps in silk lingerie. Face it, Emily. We’re the same.”

“No, because I have a few nice things that I had to save way too long to afford or used a coupon to buy. You have no shortage of nice things. How do you afford it, Jack?” I don’t think this is about her thinking I’m snooty anymore. This is Emily’s nose catching a scent again. This is her trying to work out the answer to a question that she’s not even sure she’s asking yet.

“Maybe I used a coupon too.”

“On your brand-new Land Rover?”

“Dealerships are doing incredible things these days to move inventory.”

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