by Crowe, Liz
It was true. Jack was somehow good and bad for her, but also brought out both the good and the extremely bad at her at the same time.
She stood and drew a blanket up over her brother’s thin frame. “Stay. Sleep it off. But you have to talk to him. You guys can’t—”
Her brother held up a hand. “Stay together anymore, apparently.”
“Don’t be silly, Blake. It’s a temporary setback. Get your head on straight and work it out with him. You know you want to.”
“Big talk from the non-commitment queen.”
Instead of making her mad, the comment made her smile.
“Not for much longer. Now sleep.”
* * *
The week had provided enough stress and extra work to keep Jack on his toes. Unable to sleep, with details and last minute dilemmas swirling through his head, he usually gave up and drove down to his building—the project he’d birthed, babied, and bullied from concept to purchase to fruition over the past year.
While he would forever associate the final stages of its renovation with the craziness that was his relationship with Sara, he found that doing mundane chores like fastening towel rods to freshly painted walls and installing light fixtures in the middle of the night brought him incredible peace. He’d even stayed in one of the empty condos a few nights, waking confused and sore from sleeping on a too-short couch.
He had a plan. Every day brought him closer to the one thing he now knew without a doubt he wanted. No detail of the massive party went un-sweated. Nor did the details for the penthouse flat he had outfitted for her. The one he planned to take her to the night of the party, to prove what he wanted and get her to come to her senses.
They were meant to be together. He merely had to prove it to her. It was Grand Gesture time again. And if there was one thing Jack knew how to organize and implement, it was that.
The days before the event he’d operated in a sleep-deprived haze. Between him, Jason, and the new girl he’d hired a few months ago specifically to implement this event, he knew everything would be perfect. He took the day of the party off work, did his usual ten miles in the November cold, and collapsed in bed after a long, hot shower, having spent the night before putting the finishing touches on the condo, ordering champagne and making sure the florist remembered to add rose petals to his huge order of arrangements.
Yeah, a walking cliché, that was him. But if that was what it took to prove to Sara Thornton he was serious about her, that he could be trusted—or at least that he was willing to try to be for her—he would by God do it.
By midnight that night he’d taken one last look at the place, the large four-poster bed, the fireplace ready to be lit, the fridge stocked with strawberries and cream, and the box containing a new ring. One not so flashy and over the top this time, more in keeping with how he felt—solid, sure, and willing to prove himself to her.
Perfect.
He’d smiled, and flipped off the lights.
While he slept that day, dreams of Sara—her voice, hands, lips, laughter, eyes, and body that he knew so well—flowed in and around his subconscious. By the time he awoke, he had a raging hard-on to take care of, then needed another shower before donning the new tux he’d had tailored for the occasion. He gulped down anxiety at the thought she might resist, without a single worry about the event itself. The party would be flawless and he’d have the place rented and sold within weeks. At least he felt confident about that.
He arrived as the caterer started setting up the tables in the back of the cavernous first floor retail space. His friend Evan stood around watching as the bar with its ten taps and stainless-steel top was assembled, rolling his eyes when Jack arrived.
“‘Over the top’ is your middle name, you know it, Jackie-boy?” He smiled and slapped his friend on the back. “I gotta go change. See you in a few hours.”
Jack answered a few emails from his phone and watched as the well-planned event unfolded around him. He sent out a single text to Sara:
Looking forward to seeing you tonight.
Then he rose and made a final pass through the room, making sure everything was ready for the big night.
Chapter Sixteen
Sara gazed at her image in the full-length mirror. A black, form-fitting dress with a halter-style neckline plunging in back, and a slit up the side to the middle of her thigh, hung perfectly on her. She had spent the afternoon getting her hair put up and having a full manicure and pedicure at her favorite nail bar after running six miles in some pretty cold temps in order to work up her nerve to attend.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Craig. Her faced heated up as she read it. He hadn’t responded to her apology but she knew he’d gotten it.
I’m sure you’ll be the hottest woman there, and we know what that does to a certain colleague of ours. I’m not saying don’t have fun, Sara. Just be careful. Guard your heart. It’s important to me.
She sighed, put the finishing touches on her makeup, and squared her shoulders. After applying Chanel to her neck and wrists, she added simple diamond studs to her ears, suppressing the memory of last Christmas, when Jack had hidden them under her pillow. She slid her feet into sexy four-inch suede pumps. A strange beat of excitement played through her body as she climbed into the taxi.
She would have fun tonight, goddamn it. She hadn’t been dancing in ages. All of her friends would be there. Blake even claimed he’d show. After a couple of days alone, he’d gotten less frantic and had promised her he’d be talking to Rob soon.
She chewed the inside of her cheek nervously. Images of the one man she wanted to see kept swirling through her brain, making her forget the carefully practiced words she wanted to say to him.
Acutely aware of the bare state of her skin under the hot dress, she closed her eyes against the memory of his voice.
Yes. You want him. Tonight you could get him, you know. If you’d let yourself admit that’s precisely what you want. You’re definitely dressed for it.
Yes, she knew what Jack liked all right, and figured he’d know exactly what she wasn’t wearing the moment he saw her. The thought of tormenting him felt sweet but wrong at the same time.
Focus. This is about starting over, even, if it’s not too late.
The front of the renovated red brick building glowed from about a million small white lights and luminaria lining the sidewalks in both directions. The awning over the front door and a doorman in full uniform, opening car doors for people to walk across a short span of red carpet made her smile.
Sara heard strains of Vivaldi softer and louder in time to the door’s opening and closing, as she eased out of her taxi, took the doorman’s hand, and allowed herself to be led to the door. An attendant took her coat and her bag. Several friends immediately accosted her from other offices, laughing and pointing out the incredible features of the cavernous space.
They walked up five open steps to an enormous room that was floor to ceiling windows, slightly above street level. Sara admired the familiar fifteen-foot ceilings, exposed mechanicals and ductwork, and walnut floors. A full bar temporarily dominated the huge room, with real beer taps behind the fifteen-foot-long gleaming counter. Young women and men in white jackets and, in the case of the women, short black skirts and high heels, wandered in and out of the crowd, carrying gourmet morsels for sampling.
She smiled to herself. They’d spent lots of late nights perusing plans and talking through various risky scenarios. The fact that he’d actually gone with the most dynamic of the plans, the one she’d advocated, made her ears ring. She tried not to look around too obviously for the man of the hour.
“Christ, what in the hell makes him think anyone would rent this?” Blake asked, appearing at her elbow with a perfectly mixed gin and tonic in hand. He looked rested and calm, to her relief.
“Don’t be a cynic,” she demanded. “It’s amazing, and you know it.”
“Ok, so this practically unusable but sexy space is one thing—what’s upstairs?�
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“Two types of condos—lofts and two bedroom units, all with front- or side-facing views.” She sipped the drink he’d brought her.
“You look great.”
She glanced at him, hoping her nervousness wasn’t too obvious. “Thanks. Rob here?”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Yeah, he’s coming. We’re working things out, I think. I hope.”
She put an arm around his waist. “Thank God. You guys are my touchstone, you know? Giving me faith in coupledom.”
He snorted. “Well, so what’s up with you and our host?”
She sighed and leaned on his shoulder. “I’m a mess, Blake. Can you fix it for me?”
He kissed her head. “Nope. But at least you admit it’s a mess. That’s half the battle, isn’t it?”
She watched the well-dressed crowd ebb and flow, hoping for a glimpse of him, then berated herself for wanting that. Blake leaned into her ear. “He’s right over there.” She pulled away. He smiled, and kissed her cheek. “It’s okay, Sara. I get it.”
Blake turned around to point out a knot of people gathered in the center of the room. An older woman, fifty-ish and incredibly classy in a slim cream pantsuit, was leaning back as Jack spoke, a slight smile on her lips. There were five other people gathered around, chatting, but mostly listening as Jack gave his spiel.
“She owns the rights to the Urban Outfitters franchise in this region. Jack is about to close that deal for this space. He is such an incredible prick, but he could sell an Eskimo an ice cube, huh?” he laughed. “And the man can throw a party.”
She took one last look at him at him then turned away to mingle. She caught up with Jennifer Stewart, who gave her a warm hug.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite Stewart Realtor,” Jenny said to her, as she smiled and held her at arm’s length. Sara finished her drink and set it on a passing tray held by one of the beautiful hired helpers. Several other colleagues joined them. Greg walked up and put his arm around his wife’s waist.
“Yes, my dear, agents like you are the future of our company, no doubt.” As he spoke Sara’s skin started tingling. Jack had broken away from his conversation with the potential tenants, and moved toward them, but stopped to laugh, hug, and kiss the many women who reached out for him. Sara tried like hell to calm her suddenly racing pulse.
“Whew.” He wiped his brow and shot his cuffs. “The gauntlet has been run. What do you guys think? Good party, eh?” He grinned at the group in general, avoiding Sara’s eyes.
Blake was at her elbow again, with a fresh drink in one hand. She leaned into him, grateful for his support.
“I was just telling Sara that it’s professionals like her, and like you, Jack, who are the real future of our business.” Greg slapped the taller man on the back and moved away, already having a new conversation with a different group.
“Sara, good to see you.” The warm hand on her back made her skin pebble. She stared straight ahead determined not to let her body react, not to succumb to the chemistry that swirled between them.
Images of the photo she’d deleted flashed in her vision, along with an epiphany. In every single photo she loved from their amazing New Year’s vacation, either Jack or she was intent on the other. Never once did their eyes meet. Every one of those pictures reflected exactly what was wrong between them. They never met halfway, never gave as much as they got. But their late night chats, where they opened up and really talked, had given her strength. She straightened up, realizing this was neither the time nor place to get into it.
“Nice event, Jack. Well done.” She meant it but realized nothing short of perfection would do for him.
A weight settled in her stomach. She should leave. It was a mistake to come here. He looked so amazing in his tux, classy and understated. She had to clench her fists against the impulse to slip her hand into the crook of his elbow as he worked the room, doing what he did best. Her resolve to talk slipped a little further beneath the haze of lust and physical need she figured she must have been wearing like a “Hello, my name is” sticker.
Jack made a quick perusal of the general environment around him, as any good host would, ensuring food and alcohol flowed, and people kept smiling and laughing, enjoying themselves. This was his element, truly, and he had even been able to ignore Sara once he realized she’d entered the place, at least until now.
God help him, she looked like a million god damned bucks in that dress. The line of her neck sorely tempted him, exposed and elegant. He shoved his hands into his pockets and kept talking to the people all around him, his brain on autopilot.
He knew, just as he knew his own shoe size, she had nothing on underneath, exactly how he liked it. When she took a step away from him, he mirrored her. Buttoning his jacket, he spotted Suzanne and Evan across the room.
“Save me room on your dance card,” he whispered, and escaped before he grabbed her by the hand and dragged her upstairs. He suddenly had a vision of her working the party with him, as he knew she could. His desire for that—for them to be an official couple again— nearly overwhelmed him. As he made his way across the crowded room, he reminded himself of tonight’s goal, reinforcing his determination to finish this night the way he had planned, which meant he couldn’t tip her off too early to his eagerness.
“I have the retail space seventy-five percent rented, but give Jason a call tomorrow if you want to discuss the basement.” He tossed the comment over his shoulder, responding to a question about availability, as he moved away from her.
Sara drained the drink in her hand, laughed, and glided from group to group, accepting their kudos at her recent successes, aware of how the men watched her breasts and her ass which were hugged just so by the clingy material. She played it up, touching their arms and smiling as if whatever stupid comments came out of their mouths constituted the cleverest statements she’d ever heard.
But every time she looked up, she would lock eyes with Jack. She swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat. He could anticipate every emotion, every small nuance of mood and the electricity crackling between them now set off a flame of sheer lust. She looked away and plunged back into the crowd that had grown and gotten steadily louder, drowning out the string quartet that played in one corner.
Sara grinned into a fresh drink, recalling the argument they’d had over music. He hadn’t wanted the live performer’s expense but she insisted and he must have stuck with that plan. Something made her look up. Jack held up a glass across the room, and stared straight at her. She looked away.
How did he do that?
Shaking her head at herself, she made her way over to the bar. Jason stood, beer in hand, observing the room. “Nice work.”
His face twisted into an ironic smile. “Yeah. I’ll be glad when it’s over. But the party planner did a good job.”
Leaning back against the stainless-steel bar top, she tried to relax. Jason perched on a chair. They watched in comfortable silence as the crowd grew, and the musicians packed up their instruments. The band members had arrived and the transition would be quick, ramping things up to serious party level. “What happened to doing this last week? You guys were ready, I know you were.” Jason shot her a strange look.
“Jack changed it. Cost a fortune to re-print the invites, I can tell you.” He leaned close to her ear. “He’s been a machine lately. Don’t know what’s up with you guys but…”
She moved away. “There is nothing up with us, Jason. You know that.”
He shrugged. “Maybe there should be. He’s going nuts, Sara, honestly.”
“Not my problem,” she said, but the hand holding the drink to her lips shook. She caught sight of a tall, thin woman with jet black hair breaking loose from a group and heading straight for. “Oh hell. What now?”
Jason put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ve got your back.” She rolled her eyes at him then faced Heather, the one woman who seemingly stood in the way of her happiness. She looked nervous, but determined.
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“You can spare me another reminder about who owns Jack, okay?”
The woman took a deep breath and gripped Sara’s arm, startling her. “I’m sorry, honestly. Can we talk a second?”
Sara glanced at Jason, who shrugged and moved into the crowd, leaving them alone. A tingling in her scalp signaled Jack’s eyes on her again. She looked across the room and saw him, frowning at the sight of the two women standing together. He raised an eyebrow at her. She mouthed, “It’s okay” to him before turning her attention to the tall brunette with her fingers clenched together in front of her. She opened her mouth to speak but Heather beat her to it.
“You have to get back together with him.”
Sara frowned. “Changed your tune pretty significantly. What happened?”
“He needs you. You need him. I was just a distraction. I get that now.” She slid into a bar chair, her face a mask of misery. “You two should be together. It won’t be easy but he’s worth it and you know that. He’s—”
Sara held up her hand as words she didn’t really mean rushed past her lips as if in self-defense. “It’s over between us, Heather.”
“But you have to give him a chance. He needs that. It’s part of why you’re so perfect together.” She stood. “He’ll do anything for you. Why can’t you see that?” Sara opened her mouth, but no words came out. “You’re about to throw away the best thing that could happen to you. He’s not perfect, but no one is. Give him a chance. You won’t be sorry.” Tears glinted in the woman’s dark eyes.
Jack appeared behind her, and Sara tensed in anticipation of a scene. Heather turned and gave him a hug, whispered something in his ear and walked away. He stood, hands in his pockets, within two feet of her, but as far as Sara was concerned, on the other side of a chasm once too wide and deep for her to breach, which now, tonight, seemed like something she wanted to throw a plank across and run toward.