But of course, I reminded myself, this wasn't aboutmeat all.
This was about Jack.
When I turned to look at him, he said, "Say the word, and she's gone."
The offer was so incredibly tempting. But I could only imagine how this would play out.
Would Imogen go peacefully?
Not likely.
I envisioned Jack hustling her to the door, or worse, dragging her out while she screamed and hollered. She might even cry.
Talk about a shit-storm.
I could practically see the headlines now. None of them were good, for Jack in particular.
That settled it.As much as I appreciated his offer, there was no way on Earth I could take him up on it. "No," I told him. "I'll handle this, just like I said."
He frowned. "Becka—"
"Please?" I gave him a desperate look. "I mean, thisismy job, right?"
From behind me, Imogen muttered, "Don't you meanblow-job?"
I whirled to look. "What?"
Again, she eyed me up and down, making it painfully clear that shewasn'timpressed. And then with a mean little smile, she said, "Oh, honey. I know exactly what you're here for."
Well, that was nice.
I gave Jack a nervous glance. His eyes were hard, and his mouth was tight. He looked like he was two seconds away from tossing her out on her ass.
I summoned up a smile. "All righty then." I made a little shooing motion toward the table where Jack had been signing books. "I guess it's time to get the show back on the road, huh?"
Actually, it was long overdue.
Even though the three of us had been talking for less than five minutes, it felt like forever, especially considering that we had an embarrassingly large audience.
Even worse, Jackstillwasn't moving.
With renewed desperation, I looked back to Imogen. She wasn't moving either.
Wellsomeonehad to move. I looked back to Jack said, "How about this?I'llsign the books. Andyoucan handle the crowd."
From behind me, Imogen gave a snort of derision. "Who'd wantyoursignature."
I whirled to face her. "No one. That's my point."
And then, I whirled back to Jack. "Please, I'm begging you. Let me handle it, okay?" In a low whisper, I added, "I mean, if you don't, I'm going to get a complex or something. You don't want that, do you?"
His jaw clenched. "All right. You want it? You got it." And with that, he turned and strode back to the table.
I should've been happy. But I wasn't, especially when Imogen turned and started heading toward the line.
To the front.
Notthe back.
