Page 19 of About that Fling
Adam shoved another dollar bill into the slot. Jenna swallowed and finally took a step back. “Right. I should be going.”
“Not yet,” he said, catching her hand in his before she could make an escape. “Why are you at a porn shop for your aunt?”
“She’s elderly and can’t drive.” She cursed her hand for reveling in the warmth of his. “She needed me to pick up a few things for a bridal shower she’s attending. Lube, crotchless panties, some sort of whip, and an instructional DVD.”
“Wow. That sounds like some bridal shower.”
“There’s no bridal shower.” Jenna shook her head. “It’s this little game we play where my elderly aunt pretends she’s not a sex goddess who writes wildly popular erotica under a pen name to pay her medical bills.”
“What?”
“And I go along with it and pretend she just bakes pies and does crossword puzzles because it’s easier than having an awkward conversation.”
“You’re kidding me.”
Jenna shook her head. “Look, it started out innocently enough with my aunt writing a few short stories under a pseudonym, but the whole thing snowballed into this crazy erotica career that’s taken off like gangbusters and I don’t know how to handle it and—” she stopped, realizing she’d just revealed more to Adam than she had to anyone, ever. She shook her head. “Never mind. Suffice it to say, my aunt and I don’t talk about her writing. It’s easier that way.”
Adam stared at her, the corners of his mouth ticking up in a smile. “That’s an interesting family dynamic you have there.”
“You have no idea.” She sighed. “Look, it’s not just me being a prude. Belmont has certain expectations of its executives. As healthcare providers, they have to be above reproach in all things—even their families.”
“But your aunt is writing dirty books, not running a brothel.”
Jenna grimaced. “I see you’ve heard about the old CEO and his wife. For the record, I did my best damage control on that one, but there’s only so much I can cover up.”
“So that’s your job,” he said. “Covering things up. I wondered what the hell a chief relations officer did.”
“I control the messaging coming out of the health system.” Her spine straightened a little as Adam cocked his head.
“Control?”
“Yes, control.” Her mother’s catchphrase caught in her head, an insistence she had everything under control. “I handle all kinds of things, ranging from PR and media relations to personnel issues, but yes—I suppose it all comes down to getting paid to sweep bad things under the rug and blow sunshine up people’s butts.”
“At least you’re honest.”
She gave him a smile she knew wouldn’t reach her eyes and pushed the door open. “Honest,” she repeated, stepping into the daylight. “Nothing like being honest about the things I can’t be honest about.”
She turned and walked away, feeling his eyes on her as she vanished out the door.
Chapter 4
“A maternity wedding dress? Honestly, what will they think of next.”
Jenna reached under the table and gave Mia’s hand a squeeze, not sure whether she meant to comfort her best friend or keep her from lunging across the table to throttle the cousin who sat smirking in a hideous pink hat.
Mia gritted her teeth so hard Jenna could hear the sound. She gave her friend’s hand another squeeze and reached for a canapé.
“The food is delicious,” Jenna offered, hoping to change the subject. “Did Meg Delaney do the catering?”
“Yes.” Mia shot her a look full of gratitude. “She’s the best, isn’t she? Make sure you try the shrimp.”
“I did and they’re amazing.” Jenna kept going, ignoring the sneer from Mia’s cousin. “This whole reception was such a wonderful idea.”
Across the table, the cousin snorted. “Wonderful? You think it’s wonderful she didn’t invite any of her friends and family to the wedding but she has this fancy-schmantzy reception at an expensive hotel so she can still get all the gifts?”
“We asked people not to bring gifts, Harriet,” Mia said tightly, her wedding band biting into Jenna’s hand as she squeezed back. “It said so right on the invitation. And the rental fee on the reception room was a gift from my employer because we do a lot of business with this hotel.”
“Hmph,” Harriet said, turning back to the stack of wedding photos in her hand. “The dress is white. You can’t wear white if you’ve been married before, especially not if you wore white for your first wedding. The bouquet you carried for that one, by the way, was?—”
