Disclaimer: All recognizable The Bold Type characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners including, but not limited to Freeform. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this fan fiction story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No financial gain is associated with the publishing of this story. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's note: Three things that are bothering me about the new season in no particular order: Jacqueline is criminally underutilized; No scenes with Jane and Jacqueline; and, Pinstripe. This attempts to fix the things I don't like. Takes place during "Stroke of Genius" (3x03) when Jacqueline is wearing that tuxedo shirt that left (just me?) us drooling. –dkc
No Carbs, No Alcohol, No Sex
Jane made her way through the maze of desks in the bullpen looking for her coffee mug. She hadn't used it in days, but that made it no less hers. It had always been the cup she used and everyone knew it or they should have known it. Now they had messed with a hormone-crazed woman's coffee.
The writer had waited until many of her colleagues left for the evening. She had spent much of the day watching each of them for any sign that they had taken her cup. All of the hormones necessary to make her egg harvest a success also served to make the woman petty.
She was turning the corner to look one more time in the break area where the coffee machine was located when she plowed head on into what was, from her perspective, a white blob.
"Oomph!" the noise she made was as graceful as the collision.
Taking a step back, the brunette was momentarily stunned.
"Jane."
The voice carried a mix of concern, curiosity and humor.
Jane finally managed to close her mouth and speak. "Hi. Wow."
This brought Jane a not unexpected sharp, raised eyebrow.
"You look..." she looked her boss up and down before mentally cringing at her behavior. "You look amazing."
What Jane had only registered as a blob of white was apparently a tailored white silk dinner shirt with black pearl buttons and matching cufflinks paired with a curve-hugging pair of black slacks that drew the eye to the entire length of the leg with a patterned white seam from the top of the blonde's hip to her ankle. The tall white pumps were a bonus.
Jane's lower belly fluttered as she noted the juxtaposition of the fiercely feminine editor and the hint of masculine in her attire. The writer cursed the hormones and blamed them for the reaction she was having to her boss.
"Thank you," Jacqueline smiled. "Can I help you find something?"
"Find something?" Jane was confused.
"You were looking for something?" the editor-in-chief was amused at how clearly distracted her protégée was.
"Oh! No, it was nothing important."
"Jane, are you alright?" Jacqueline gave Jane a once over and didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. "Are you still doing hormone treatments?"
"Yes, one more day," Jane was confused by the question. "Why?"
"Progesterone can cause a mental fog," the editor said as she leaned against the counter and kept her eyes on the young woman.
"No, it's not that," she shook her head.
"Something else? You were a woman on a mission when you quite literally barreled into me," Jacqueline crossed her arms and Jane's eyes latched on the French cuffs and attractive cuff links.
"It's that." Jane's arm reached out and she used a pointed finger to draw a large circle in Jacqueline's direction. "I was distracted by that outfit. And buttons. I was distracted by buttons. Then you cross your arms like that and my brain, well, the cuff links got me."
Jacqueline laughed at this. She had missed these moments with Jane in the last several weeks.
"Then I suppose it is a good thing," she said to a now curious Jane.
"What is?"
"That you write for a fashion-forward magazine if you are drawn to cufflinks," the editor uncrossed her arms and stood to her full height.
"Wait!" Jane stopped her boss from walking away before she fully considered what she was going to say. "I've missed talking to you."
If she wouldn't have looked like an even bigger fool, Jane would have slapped herself in the forehead.
There was a soft sincerity in the smile Jacqueline gave the brunette.
"We haven't since—"
"Paris," Jane stopped her. "I haven't known what to say. And I figured since you handed me off to Patrick it was best I keep my distance."
Jacqueline turned around with a sad look on her face.
"I didn't give you to Patrick, Jane. He came to me and said you had pitched the fertility story with Ryan and that you wanted to write for the dot com. I respected your wishes."
The writer appeared to be processing this and Jacqueline gave her a moment to do so.
"I didn't think you wanted me to write for you anymore. I mean, why would you? Not after the piece you published in Paris. Not after I pushed you to publish it. Not after you lost digital," Jane pulled herself up onto a stool and looked at her hands to avoid looking at the fiery editor.
"Jane..." The writer knew that tone. She had heard it a half dozen times and each time came with it a lot of emotion. "I don't blame you for that."
The tall blonde stepped forward into the writer's space. It was the easiest way to pull Jane's eyes to her own. They made eye contact and it was obvious how genuine and honest Jacqueline's statement was. She held no resentment for the writer. She did not regret publishing Jane's criticism of their employer. What she did regret was having not made it clear to the young woman that she did not fault her for any changes to her job description.
"The writing was on the wall. Safford was unhappy and wanted a change. Your piece played no part in that," she spoke firmly to get her point across.
It was not often that Jacqueline Carlyle was flummoxed, but when Jane's hand covered hers on the counter, she had no words. She looked down at the small hand over her own and felt a wave of relief.
"Have the hormone injections been going okay? How are you feeling?" the editor asked, never moving her hand out from under Jane's.
"They have," Jane blushed. "It seems odd to talk about the process of having something removed from my ovaries."
"I suppose it is. And Ryan? How has he done with the injections? Is he mentally prepared for the procedure? He knows about the anesthesia?" she asked this fully realizing she was still allowing her hand to be held by his girlfriend.
"I didn't ask him to go," Jane managed to surprise the older woman.
"But you did this with him, no? The article said you weren't committing to future children together, but that you would navigate the process as a couple," Jacqueline was startled and worried for her writer.
"No, we did. Ryan has been great. He has been very helpful with the hormone shots. I didn't feel right about having him there with me tomorrow for the procedure knowing they will be asking if I intend to have preventative surgery soon or if I will use the eggs in the near future. That's too much to ask of a guy I haven't even said 'I love you' to."
Jane shook her head and felt a stray tear fall from the corner of her eye. It wasn't missed by the woman before her. The hand beneath her own turned over and she felt Jacqueline's soul in the palm of her hand.
"Will Kat and Sutton be with you?" the editor's eyes were piercing.
"No, Kat has been involved in a city council race. Sutton's creative touch has been needed," Jane shrugged.
"Oh, Jane," Jacqueline abandoned the small hand and instead wrapped Jane into a hug. "I would be more than happy to go with you. That's a big thing to do on your own."
Jane was quite aware of how close they were to one another. Her body was betraying her once again.
"Thank you," she hummed against the blonde's shoulder. She then allowed her cheek to brush Jacqueline's and she swallowed hard. Her own hand found the small of her boss's back and she felt her chest arch into the front of the silk shirt. "Shit!"
Jane pulled back as if she had been burned. Her cheeks colored in embarrassment, at least that's what she hoped was the cause. Adrenaline had rushed through her body and she was aroused.
"It's the hormones," Jacqueline explained.
"God, it's embarrassing," she buried her face in her hands.
An understanding hand landed on the brunette's shoulder.
"At least I know it isn't me," the editor said.
Dropping her hands and looking up at the extremely attractive blonde, Jane contemplated her next move.
"Are you serious? Have you looked in the mirror today?" Jane's eyes followed the line of exceptional legs from ankle to waist. "That is the sexiest thing I have ever seen you in and given that you wear a different stunning ensemble every day, that is something."
The eyebrow, the head tilt, the blazing blue irises and the tightened lips—Jacqueline Carlyle was being cautious. She contemplated mentioning the hormones again. However, she remembered the tension that once existed between she and the younger woman. It had been undoubtedly sexual. She had seen the writer admire her from afar. They had shrugged it off. For her it had been an internal battle. It had been difficult when their interactions ceased after Paris. Reading about her egg harvest on the website rather than hearing it from Jane herself had stung. The editor had offered once to support her even if that only meant a listening ear. She hadn't been taken up on the offer.
"Jane."
That's all she could bring herself to say. Her caution prevailed.
"I know. I am sorry," Jane dropped her eyes and felt her arousal dissipate and her regret rise.
"No."
The writer's brow furrowed as she looked at the older woman.
"No?" she assumed Jacqueline was going to tell her not to apologize if she had nothing to apologize for.
"No."
Jacqueline stepped back into Jane's bubble.
"I don't understand," the young woman responded.
"What do you want? What have you wanted?" the voice Jane knew so well had lowered and was making her heart beat faster.
"Jacqueline..." her brown eyes searched blue for clarity, for safety.
The hand that had been on Jane's shoulder had slid around to the back of her neck, under long brown locks. Fingers did burn the skin there. Arousal resurfaced.
The writer closed her eyes imagining words on the page that she had written, erased, rewritten and again over the span of a year of being forever drawn to the colossus of beauty and brilliance that now stood before her asking a question that had no true answer but infinite possibilities.
Without further hesitation, eyelids opened and brown eyes were now almost black. They were forceful and driven in a way only comparable to when she was working on an investigative reporting piece and would not let go. Jane was staring at Jacqueline's nude lips before she pressed her own to them. The older woman thought she knew what desire felt like until that moment. The kiss was pleasure and pain, purposefully hard, but softened by the brunette's full lips. When Jane took her top lip in and gently sucked, she felt her hand tightening on the writer's neck, her perfectly manicured nails left slight imprints.
The moan that reached the back of Jacqueline's throat was of desire yet not brought to her because of raging hormones. The writer had wanted to know what this felt like for an incalculable time. When Jane's bottom lip was tugged, she once again pressed her breasts into the button-clad chest of her boss. Images of releasing those black pearls played in her mind. She contemplated if she would leave the cuff links, the shirt billowing open, but not removed. The arousal between her legs was now slick.
"Jane, are you—oh," the familiar, shocked voice had entered the break area and stopped as suddenly as it had started.
Jacqueline pulled back quickly and Jane whipped around to look at her perplexed and angry boyfriend. She had never seen Ryan mad. There's a first time for everything.
"So I guess it's only no carbs and no alcohol," he hissed.
"It's not—" Jacqueline began only to be cut off by the writer.
"It's exactly what it looks like," the tiny woman hopped down from the tall stool and walked toward Ryan, looking back at Jacqueline with an apologetic expression as she led him around the corner and away from her editor.
The tall blonde let out a breath and put a hand to her chest once alone. She reached up and released her top button in the hope of allowing more air to reach her lungs. She rolled her eyes before collapsing on the stool Jane had been sitting on. She shook her head at what had happened, stifling a laugh at the absurdity of her irrational behavior, having been caught making out with another man's girlfriend. Nothing like this had happened to her since her first writing gig as an investigative reporter. She was far too mature to be walked in on.
Jacqueline Carlyle had always been a catch. When she had met Ian she was seeing a woman and was being pursued by another. It hadn't been more than a year before when immersed in the pleasure of having a woman between her legs, the door burst open and an unknown man stood there dumbfounded at the sight of his girlfriend with the tall blonde.
Since becoming editor-in-chief Jacqueline had been very protective of her private life. Indiscretions were discreet. She did not involve herself with any of her employees or any of Richard's colleagues on the board. However, she had harbored a crush on Jane Sloan for months. The way she felt about Jane was nothing that she could easily shake off. The lack of being around Jane since Paris had cooled down the fire she held for the young writer, but the developing relationship with Ryan Decker had been routinely advertised at the office and in Jane's writing. It served to establish a jealously on the part of her editor.
Time passed and Jacqueline did not move. If she left the room it might be like nothing had happened. But there was scotch in her office and she could really use a drink. She sat there a minute longer before finally deciding it wouldn't be the end of the world if what happened in that room ended right then and there. She stood from the stool and turned as the short brunette appeared in the doorway. Jane stopped and was leaning on the corner of the wall. She stared at the woman she had kissed passionately minutes before.
"Hey," the writer's voice wasn't sad which is what Jacqueline expected.
The blonde searched Jane's face for any sign of tears or regret.
"Is everything okay?" she asked before shaking her head. "Of course it's not. I'm sorry about that."
Stepping closer, Jane, too, shook her head emphatically.
"Somebody once told me you should never apologize when you've done nothing wrong."
The brunette smiled and Jacqueline instantly relaxed.
"Is he—?" she didn't even know what to ask.
"Stunned? Yes. Surprised? Not necessarily," Jane continued forward until she was standing before her boss. "Let's just say I talk about you a lot at home and I was a bit of a mess post-Paris."
"He has known you were attracted to me?" the editor asked.
"You may have been the only one who didn't," Jane smiled.
Jacqueline thought about this and how different things might have been had they talked sooner. She certainly knew what her own feelings were for Jane. However, she couldn't guarantee she would ever have acted on them.
"If I had known he was picking you up..."
"You would have pushed me away when I kissed you?" Jane took a final step forward and touched the blonde's hand.
Jacqueline shook her head at this, a lock of hair falling into her face. The writer gently brushed it away. Her hand remained on the side of the editor's face, her thumb beneath an ear with the earring tickling the space of her hand between thumb and forefinger.
"This is not wise," Jacqueline hummed.
"Probably not," Jane's voice vibrated on the blonde's lips.
"We should definitely stop."
The editor moved her lips against Jane's. This time their entire bodies were able to press together, curves fitting into crooks, Jacqueline's neck bending to keep her lips pressed to the shorter woman's without Jane having to stand on her toes.
"I'll stop," she breathed hard.
"Is that so?" Jane teased.
"I'm still going with you tomorrow," Jacqueline insisted.
"And if I keep kissing you?" the brunette's tongue traced Jacqueline's bottom lip while her hand slipped from hip around to the small of her back and lower.
"Mmm...I'm still going with you."
Jane sighed.
"We shouldn't do this here," the writer spoke soberly.
Jacqueline reluctantly separated herself.
"I should tell you that I can't..." Jane rolled her eyes.
"No carbs, no alcohol and no...sex?" the blonde smiled.
"Exactly."
"We don't have to have sex—"
"Oh! God! I'm sorry. I—" Sutton was standing in the doorway unsure if she should leave or cover her ears, as she was now, or close her eyes even though nothing was happening aside from a light discussion about sex while both women were equally flushed. "We thought you and Ryan were meeting us for dinner."
"We won't be joining you," Jane smirked at Jacqueline while avoiding eye contact with Sutton. Sutton stood dead still for an uncomfortably long amount of time before she spoke again.
"Okay, umm, goodnight."
Sutton left in a rush. Jane imagined her squealing into the phone on her way out of the building.
"Can we get out of here before someone else interrupts us? Kat can't be far behind," Jacqueline asked.
"God yes!" the writer chuckled and took Jacqueline's hand.
The blonde looked at the young woman as Jane chuckled to herself. She didn't ask.
What Jane was laughing at was the thought that the doctor should have established the rules as being no carbs, no alcohol and definitely no Jacqueline Carlyle.
-finis-