Men Like This by Roxanne Smith Page A

been no reports of Decker’s long-term relationship with Venezuelan actress and model, Vickie Lana, being on the rocks. Neither party could be reached for comment.” She followed the rest in silence, panic growing with every word. “They weren’t supposed to take your picture. You said they wouldn’t. This is bad. Oh, my God, this is bad.”
    “It’s a bloody nightmare.” The heat in Jack’s voice was unmistakable. He stood up and began to pace. “I guess the deal’s off if I have my coffee with a side of beautiful blonde, especially one who is not my well-known girlfriend.” He plopped back into the seat and ran a hand over his hair.
    He’d called her beautiful, but she didn’t have time to obsess over it. She’d come back to it later, wallow in and absorb the compliment at a more appropriate time. Right now, they needed to focus on damage control. “Okay. Okay, well, has Vickie seen this yet? I mean, because the press can say whatever, but as long as she has the truth, it’s okay, right?”
    He looked at her like she’d spoken a foreign dialect. “I’m sorry, love, I’ve forgotten to tell you the rest. The paper you’ve got there is but a bit player in the tragedy we’ve seen unfold this fine morning. You recall Vickie is off her rocker, yes?”
    “Yes. I get it. She’s crazy.” Quinn moved her hands in a get-on-with-it gesture. Every minute they spent chatting equaled a minute not spent figuring out a solution.
    “Crazy hardly covers it. She’s a piece of work, she is. Gone in the head and deserving of a slow, agonizing death.”
    Taken aback, Quinn blinked at the strong words. Jack didn’t have a mean bone in his body. She studied his face and discovered not anger but hurt. “What happened?”
    He glanced at the floor. “I woke up to a bloody war, that’s what. She’d gone out for coffee and came home with this garbage.” He grabbed the paper only to give it a disgusted toss to the other side of the table. “No questions, no demands for information. Just instant war. She said she’d been counting on it. Can you believe that? She expected it! Who expects that in a relationship? Crazy people, that’s who. Turns out, she’s seeing someone else. Her ex-boyfriend, some little Italian turd, called Vino. I met him once. Don’t see what the big deal is, myself.” He paused and made a visible attempt to gather himself with a deep breath and a shake of his shoulders. “Ah, well. She told me to get out. No chance to explain a thing. I left even though she’s sitting in my house because sometimes you’ve got to pick your battles. Also, Quinn, she sends her regards, and you’re welcome to my ‘cheating ass.’”
    So much for damage control. Quinn shook her head in pure awe. “Confesses to an affair and kicks you out of your own house. You don’t just watch daytime television, Jack. You live it.”
    “Oprah taught me everything I know.” The joke fell flat. He didn’t seem to notice. “I’m sorry I came here. I shouldn’t have. I suppose I wanted someone to commiserate with me. We’re safe for as long as you remain a mystery to the press.”
    “Safe?”
    “Yeah, from paparazzi and the like. They’re bloody vultures once they catch a scent, though, don’t doubt it. We’re screwed if they figure it out.” His steady gaze shifted to the saltshaker between them. “I’m sick to my stomach. Not jealous or angry, just ill. I bet it’s only a small taste of what it must’ve been like for you, though. I can’t imagine.” He blinked. “A year. An entire year . How’d I miss it? Where was I when this was happening?”
    Her heart broke for him. He described the ugly aftermath perfectly. Few emotional combinations were more caustic than anxiety and total heartbreak. She’d lost the contents of her stomach several times after discovering Blake’s affair and asked herself all the same questions.
    She covered one of Jack’s hands with hers. “At least you didn’t find out after