Suddenly I felt like that teenage boy who was desperate to please my father, but only earned his disappointment and shame no matter how big the effort. “Was it that bad?” I knew my performance hadn’t been great, but with this reaction, you’d have thought I’d belched the alphabet on air.
Olivia sighed again then rolled her head to the side to regard me. “It was…informative.”
I couldn’t help it. I reached my hand behind her head and rubbed that tense spot at the base of her neck that I’d learned she liked. “Is that PR speak for total crap?”
She didn’t move from my touch, but instead closed her eyes and relaxed into it. “I can say the information you communicated was quality. If that was your intention.”
“But?” The skin beneath her hair felt like silk. Touching Olivia had been a big mistake. Now I just wanted more.
“We need to establish some ground rules,” she said.
I braved a gentle walk of the fingers into her hair. “Sounds boring.”
Her eyes were less stabby as they met mine. “Lachlan, you signed an agreement with Flair. In that agreement you promised to adhere to our advice and counsel.”
“Speak plainly, Olivia. I have another gig with a podcaster in an hour and don’t have time to parse this out.”
“Cancel your podcast.”
She was totally crushing my mellow “let’s hang on the couch together and make out” vibe. “I can’t,” I told her.
“I’m going to insist you do. If you want my help and the help of Flair, you have to trust the process and believe we know what we’re doing. You’re not ready for interviews yet. We haven’t done any media training, set up your virtual interviewspace, given you proper audio equipment, or decided on clothing options. There’s a time and place for that on the PR plan, and we hadn’t gotten there.”
Olivia did nothing that wasn’t scheduled. “So I was terrible. That’s what you’re saying.”
“I’m here to help,” she said. “I’m also here to ask that you not get me fired.”
I studied my wife, from her slightly mussed hair to the tension bracketing the mouth that now starred in my dreams. “Was that mentioned?”
“Quite loudly,” Olivia answered.
“Sorry.” I reached for her hand and gave it a small shake. “You wanted to strangle me when you first walked in here, didn’t you?”
She watched our joined hands, and I wondered what she was thinking. “Not for the first time.”
“Adult Olivia has such restraint.” And talent, and beauty, and confidence, and something that hooked me in a way I’d yet to release. I needed to remember that our marriage was a sham, and in a matter of months we would be over. How many times had I let myself get attached only to find myself holding nothing but heartbreak in the end? I certainly wouldn’t be that idiot this time.
“I have a lot riding on your success, Lachlan,” Olivia said.
“So my success is your success?”
“Probably.”
“And my failure is your failure?”
“Most definitely.”
I grinned at her desolate tone. “I have such power.”
Her hair swished against her fancy shirt as she nodded. “That very thought keeps me up at night.”
I leaned toward her, ignoring her scent of vanilla and chaos. Did she also replay our kiss in her mind? “You think about me at night, Olivia?”
“I do,” she admitted. “Usually when I have nightmares about my career being taken down by Hurricane Celeste.”
“And where am I in this dream?” I asked.
Olivia swayed a few degrees closer. “Bound and gagged in my trunk.”
