Sex, Lies & Her Impossible Boss by Jennifer Rae Page B

Cash determinedly. ‘Sex isn’t about tricks and masks and bloody pulley systems. It’s about two people. Naked. Alone.’
    But not her. She wanted to know why he didn’t believe in love and why he thought sex was just sex. And she wanted to know why he didn’t want to kiss her. But she wasn’t going to ask. He wasn’t interested so neither was she.
    She caught him turning to face her out of the corner of her eye and made an effort to keep her eyes on the road signs at the crossroad ahead of her. No Entry. Stop.
    ‘I don’t like games, Faith. I don’t like lies. I prefer things to be a lot...simpler.’
    ‘Sex isn’t simple. I’ve told you that. It gets complicated.’
    ‘Only if you let it.’
    Faith felt sick. Sick that for a moment she’d thought he wanted her as much as she wanted him. Sick that she’d got it wrong and all her professionalism was now out of the window. Sick that she’d lost any power she’d ever had in this relationship.
    ‘Maybe your problem with my show isn’t about the sex. Maybe it’s you. Have you ever thought of that?’ Humiliation was giving way to anger. Faith gripped the wheel harder as her foot accidentally slipped onto the accelerator, gunning the engine into a roar.
    ‘This isn’t about me—it’s about you and the fact that no advertisers want to support this stupid sex show of yours.’
    ‘My show isn’t stupid. What’s stupid is your attitude. You have a problem with intimacy—that’s why you have a problem with my show. You’re just a scared little boy running from the lightning in a storm. Afraid you’ll get hit. Afraid my show is convincing people that love exists when you want to convince everyone that it doesn’t.’
    ‘You want to know why I’m canning your show, Faith? Because you’re too close. You get too involved. You want so much for love to be the answer you miss everything else. You miss the fact that sometimes people don’t like you. Sometimes they just want to get laid.’
    Faith held back the pathetic whimper that was in danger of falling from her lips. That was it. Exactly. She remembered the mistake she’d made vividly. Mr Turner was older and had seemed so lovely. Calm and patient and he’d made her feel as if she was special. He’d told her she was talented. She’d believed him. Trusted him. She’d wanted to have sex with him to show him that she cared for him.
    But then everyone had found out and he hadn’t defended her. He’d let everyone call her names and laugh. He’d let them kick her out. He hadn’t said anything to her parents and she’d had to bear the brunt of their humiliation. Her father hadn’t spoken to her for twelve months. Her brothers still called her the Turner’s Tart whenever they saw her. The first article she ever wrote after she left school was about proving that sex could be about more than just sex. But Cash was right. Mr Turner had just wanted to get laid. And she’d been there. She could have been anyone. Faith concentrated on her breathing and stared into the sun, willing the tears back into her eyes.
    Cash was still talking, oblivious to the wound he’d gouged open with his words. ‘Getting rid of your show has nothing to do with me or what I feel. It’s got to do with ratings and advertising dollars. End of story.’
    Faith took a deep breath. Her heart was heavy but her mind was buzzing with heat and mortification. ‘I feel sorry for you, Cash. You care more about making money than making good TV and you don’t believe in love, which means you’ll never feel the high of losing yourself completely to someone or the low of being betrayed by someone you love.’
    ‘How do you know what I’ve felt?’ His voice was a growl. A dangerously low one. A warning that skittered down her spine but she was too angry and too embarrassed to heed it.
    ‘I know exactly what you feel. Nothing. You’re one of those men who are happy to take but never want to give. A selfish man who thinks he can