Professor Feelgood (Page 48)

He goes quiet, and from his expression, I’m guessing he’s thinking about Ingrid again. Clearly, she’s the key to unlocking his words.

Just when I think he’s done, he leans his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands together. “So, yeah … for me, that’s the difference between gambling with money and gambling with your heart. Sitting at a blackjack table, even when the cards don’t go your way, you keep putting in chips, because you think the next hand will be different. You’re always waiting for the win.”

He shakes his head. “With love, most us are mindlessly betting everything we have, over and over, with the certain, unshakeable faith that we’re destined to lose.”

When he finishes, his cheeks are bright with color. Before I can say anything, he looks at the ground, as if he’s embarrassed to have shown so much of himself.

I’m glad he’s looking away. Not only am I reeling from his unexpected but completely-brilliant outburst, I’m also turned on and confused, along with about fourteen other emotions that are swirling inside me. I peel off my coat to let out some of my sudden body heat.

When he glances over at me. I do my best to hide my body’s unwanted reaction.

Jake narrows his eyes. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What? Nothing. Why?”

“Because I just laid out the most anti-romance argument in the history of words, and you’re not disputing any of it.”

I cross my legs. “Why would I dispute it?”

“Because you’re the president, secretary, and fundraising officer for the Hopeless Romantics’ Society.”

“So not true.”

“Asha, please. Your favorite song is My Heart Will Go On.”

I want to deny it, but the truth is, when Celine goes into that key change, I can’t help but swoon. Every … damn … time.

I clear my throat and dig around in my bag until I find a notebook and pen. “Maybe I’m not disputing it because even though it’s a pile of cynical horseshit, it’s exactly the sort of passionate opinion your book needs.”

He leans back. “Seriously?”

“Yes. It’s real, and imperfect, and full of flawed-but-fervent logic.” I pass him the notebook and pen. “Quick, write it down.”

Still seeming confused, he takes the items out of my hands. Then he opens the notebook, rests it on his thigh, and stares at the blank page.

“Jacob, write!”

“Jesus, give me a second, woman. I can’t remember all of it.”

“Doesn’t matter. Just get down the bits you can.”

He starts to write, and I sit there and watch, making sure he’s not faking it again. To my immense relief, he writes actual decent content instead of filler and excuses.

“You’re staring again,” Jake says with a frustrated sideways glance. “What did I tell you about watching me write?”

With a sigh, I push off the bench and walk over to the railing near the river.

Okay, we’re out of the gate. Now, we just have to keep the momentum going.

I take a few deep breaths, trying to use the crisp river air to purge some of the tension I’ve been holding in ever since Jake revealed he was the professor. It works, but only a little.

Staring at the calm river, I can almost imagine a time when tolerating working with him becomes easier.

Almost.

SIXTEEN

____________________

So Boss

I’M WAITING AT A CROSS-walk when my phone lights up with Joanna’s smiling face.

“Hey.”

“Hey! All done for the day?”

“Yeah, I’m on my way to meet Eden at work. She’s heading straight to the Romance Central event early, and I promised I’d help with hair and makeup. Where are you?”

“Stuck in traffic. Ignore the yelling in the background. All the idiot drivers are out today, and Gerald isn’t happy.” Gerald is Joanna’s chauffeur. He’s very blond and quite British, and it’s hilarious when he unleashes his impatience with New York traffic.

“Selfish!” I hear him yell in the background. “That’s an appallingly uncouth and selfish move, Mr. Mazda! Appalling!”

I laugh. I think he needs some lessons in American road rage, or at least a few good swear words.

“So,” Joanna says. “I’m dying to find out how your first day went. Did you both come out unscathed? Or was there bloodshed?”

I suppress a groan. “Not quite bloodshed, but working with him was exactly as excruciating as I predicted. After a whole lot of bickering, we got a grand total of six-hundred words down for the day. If we keep this up, my stomach will be a magical wonderland of ulcers, and we’ll miss every one of our production deadlines.”

“Surely things will get better with time. You’ll eventually wear away each other’s sharp edges.”

“We managed to not do that for years when we were teenagers.”

“Yes, but you weren’t forced to work together every day back then.”

“But right now, we can’t interact for five minutes without snapping at each other like a couple of cranky Pekingese. I mean, I want to be the bigger person and not bite back, but … God, Jo … he makes it impossible.” It’s easier to get angry with someone than admit they hurt you.

“Uh huh. And how’s that crush going? Bet that’s also making things tough.”

“What?” I jab the cross-walk button a few more times, way harder than before. “I already told you, I never liked Jake in that way ––”

“So you keep saying. And even if I believed you, that was before he turned out to be the hot, passionate professor who firmly rezoned your panties into a flood area. Annoying or not, your surly teenage neighbor has grown into a damn sexy man.”

“Jo …” I want to tell her she’s being ridiculous and way off base, but I can’t deny that my unwanted attraction to Jake is an issue. I considered unloading to Eden last night, but I had to defend my relationship with Jake so many times when we were kids, if I now admit I’m attracted to him after all our animosity, I wouldn’t blame her if she stitched IDIOT into all my clothes.

“Look, you don’t have to admit anything to me,” Joanna says, letting me off the hook. “But I think you guys need to find a way to bury the hatchet.”

“Yeah, that’s going to be easier said than done.”

“I know that you’re both pig-headed, but there are ways to purge all that bad blood.”

“Maybe for regular feuds, like the Hatfields and McCoys, the Montagues and Capulets, vegans and bacon lovers … but me and Jake? Yeah, I have my doubts.”

“Trust me. I once got Taylor Swift and Kanye to have a couple’s colonic together. It can be done. Maybe this event tonight will give you an opportunity to purge some ghosts.”

“It’s a work event, Jo.”

“Yes, but it’s based around Romance Central, and they’re all about bringing people together and making them feel good. Maybe you and Jake will benefit by association.”

“Hmmm.” Sounds unlikely, especially considering my night is going to have more than one stress factor, but I can always try to keep an open mind. “Anything’s possible, I guess.”

“Okay, well, if I can help at all, let me know. I’ll be there around nine.”

“You’re coming? I didn’t know Whiplash was sending other staff.”