Charlie leaned in closer. “I was going to wait to tell you, but it’s too exciting to keep to myself. You’re going to be invited into the Chamber Players. The formal invitation is forthcoming.” He squeezed her arm and smiled, then put a finger up to his lips.
Jessica couldn’t have responded if she’d wanted to. She was stunned silent.
An invitation to play with the Boston Symphony Chamber Players would be the pinnacle of her career, what her mother had always hoped she’d achieve. The icing on her already perfect career cake, and still, her heart ached.
“I…” She couldn’t figure out how to express what she was feeling. She knew she should feel overwhelming joy and pride, but she felt numb. Any happiness she was supposed to feel was buried deep inside her grief over losing Jamie.
“Exciting. I know. We’ll talk.” Charlie hurried off to talk with another musician.
The Chamber Players.
How was she supposed to concentrate now? This was the chance of a lifetime, and she was too heartbroken to enjoy it.
“Put your phone away,” Greg, another musician, said sharply.
She hadn’t realized she had it clenched in her fist. She checked for a return message from Jamie one last time and realized that for a woman who hated cell phones, she’d become awfully adept at texting and checking messages in the last two weeks. She had two text messages. One from Jenna and one from Bella, both telling her they missed her and she should come back to the Cape. Even with the happiness over their friendships, her stomach still took a nose dive when she realized that Jamie hadn’t returned her way-too-desperate message.
It’s really over.
She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat as she shut the phone off and tucked it into her purse. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. She closed her eyes for a beat and conjured up her mother’s stern voice. No pouting. No whimpering. No frowns. Up, up, up with your chin. Jessica lifted her chin, doing her best to swallow the ache seeping from her heart and filling her chest, tightening her throat, and making her heart race. With another deep inhalation, she recalled her mother’s voice again. Shoulders squared. Eyes forward, serious and happy, happy, happy. Remember, when you’re on that stage, there’s no place else you’d rather be.
Shoulders back, chin up, she followed the group to the stage.
There’s no place else I’d rather be. There’s no place else I’d rather be.
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
AMELIA WALKED ACROSS the conference room where Jamie was meeting with the directors and managers of several divisions, strategizing new ways to track down the drone in their system. The large conference room looked like a war zone, with empty coffee cups scattered around the table, whiteboards filled with strategies for deciphering where the drone in the code might be, and documents and files spread across the large mahogany table. There were twenty-seven managers and directors around the table, each looking worn-out and frustrated, but because of their dedication to OneClick, and in turn, Jamie, they were still there, hours past closing time.
The group continued discussing the issue while Amelia handed Jamie an envelope and whispered, “Sage’s contact had this delivered. It’s for tonight at eight. It was the best he could do.”
Jamie glanced at his watch. Seven thirty. “Thank you.”
“I had Marcia bring your tux. It’s in your office, and she said to tell you not to spill anything on it this time.” Amelia smiled at that. Marcia was Jamie’s housekeeper. In addition to cleaning, she ran various errands for him, and after six years as his employee, she knew him well.
“Please thank her for me. I’ll never make it in time, but maybe I’ll catch the tail end.”
“I’ll tell her.”
Jamie turned his attention back to his division managers and programmers. They’d spent hour upon hour trying to track down the damn bug, and still, no one had any clue where to look. There were too many levels of code, too many paths to follow. Jamie was stymied as badly as his staff was, and it made the situation that much more untenable. Jamie was a master troubleshooter, and when it came to coding, whatever his highly effective, experienced staff couldn’t handle—which was almost nil—he always could. But after days of going through enough code to scramble his brain, he was still at a loss.
Jamie listened to his top-level managers tossing ideas back and forth and realized that there was only one way to ensure nothing had been missed. It was late, and no one wanted to be there, least of all him, but he had to try to get to the bottom of this.
He addressed the group. “Obviously we’re missing something, somewhere, and the only way I can see to do this is to start at the top again. We’ll work our way through each level with a fine-tooth comb and find this goddamn drone.”
A collective groan rose from the group.
“Jamie, we’ve gone over this, starting from scratch, for over a week. Do you really think starting from square one is going to help? Maybe we need to start someplace else.” Rick Masters was the director of programming at OneClick. He had a wife and three young children waiting at home, including a newborn baby. He looked like he’d been up all night, and Jamie hated to keep him even later, but he had no choice.
“Do you have a specific suggestion of where to start?” Jamie asked. “I’m all ears, Rick, but if we don’t find this, you know the consequences.”
Computer glitches happened. Users knew that and to a large degree generally overlooked those things, but when an issue lingered, it tended to magnify in the eyes of the public, and the glitch had already hit the media. Not to mention that children and military hardware did not mix. It was only a matter of time until they began losing credibility and users at an insurmountable rate, not to mention sponsors.
“I don’t know. I just can’t imagine that we missed something at the top level,” Rick said.
“I hear ya, Rick. And believe me, I have more faith in the people in this room than I have in the Oval Office, which is why I think we start at the very beginning.” Jamie held his gaze. Time to hit home. “If your son were being bombarded by ads for guns and ammo, would you want us to start at square one, or would you want us to sit and knock our heads against the same wall for another few hours?”
Rick sighed loudly. “Point taken.”
“Okay, let’s start at the top. We’ve got kids searching for dragons, toys, games, movies, and videos, and they’re resulting in ads for military hardware. What do they all have in common?”
Two hours later, they were still knocking heads. Selfishly, Jamie ended the meeting, and they agreed to regroup in the morning.
Traffic was thick for a Monday night, and as he watched the minutes tick by, his nerves started to get the better of him. He glanced at the sealed manila folder Mark had given him. Maybe he was being stupid, following his heart instead of his head. Mark had never led him astray before. Why would he now? What did he have to gain? Jamie was too nervous to think it through. He debated opening the envelope. It would be the most efficient way to know the truth, but Jessica wasn’t a job. Jessica wasn’t an employee. She was the woman he’d fallen hopelessly in love with. The woman he thought about night and day, and ached to see, to touch, to love.
He reached Symphony Hall at ten minutes after ten and punched the cracked dashboard as he drove into the lot. He’d missed the concert. Damn it. Was this what Vera had been trying to tell him? That he just needed to see for himself that he and Jessica were not meant to be together?
He floored it to the rear entrance where the musicians came and went, still refusing to believe she’d lied.
The devil on his shoulder whispered, You’re a fool. You saw the musicians’ roster on the BSO website. She wasn’t on it.
He cut the engine, feeling as though he was living on deep breaths lately. The devil tried to be heard again, and this time Jamie made a deal with him. He was good at deals. If she doesn’t walk out that door, I’ll walk away and never look back.
With his heart hammering against his
chest, he stepped from the car and into the dark night. He was parked over to the side, beyond the bubble of lights illuminating the lot. He didn’t need strangers thinking he was some poor sap stalking one of the musicians.
The thought made him feel even more stupid. What was he doing standing in a dark parking lot waiting for a woman who probably didn’t even exist? She wasn’t on the list. Jessica Ayers could have been a made-up name, for all he knew. Christ, she could be anyone, anywhere.
And still, he had to see for himself.
He paced in the dark, every second sucking more air from his lungs. Finally, an interminable number of minutes later, the doors opened, and musicians carrying large black instrument cases walked out. Jamie’s heart slammed against his chest as he watched them file out, say their goodbyes to one another, then turn and get into their cars. He waited as the parking lot emptied, his hopes deflating further with each passing car.
When the last car left, the remaining air left his lungs in a rush. He couldn’t believe it. He’d felt her honesty. Felt it!
He was a fool.
An idiot.
Thank God for Mark. He’d never doubt him again.
He went back to the car and grabbed his phone to call him. The message light was blinking. He’d forgotten to turn the volume on after the meeting. Probably Mark wanting to know if he’d opened the fucking envelope. He pressed the voicemail icon and listened to the messages.
The first one was from Mark. Listen. I know you’re pissed, but after you read the docs, call me. I apologized to Amelia, and…sorry, man. The whole thing’s a pisser.
He lowered the phone for a beat. Fuck.
Then he lifted it to his ear again as the next message played.
Hi. His pulse quickened at the sound of Jessica’s voice. I miss you, and I’m sorry. She sounded so sad, so sweet. He reached for the car as his throat thickened. Oh God, Jamie. I miss you so darn much.
He turned at the sound of the heavy metal door opening, and beneath the haze of the bulb above the door, he made out two dark forms. A large man and a lithe woman appeared. The man was carrying a large instrument case. The woman carried nothing other than a purse over her shoulder, her arms crossed, shoulders rounded forward as they walked toward the front of the building.
Numb with anticipation, he pressed Jessica’s speed-dial number into the phone. He had to talk to her, regardless of his deal with the devil, or what the fucking papers said, or the Internet, or anything else in the entire universe. He had to speak directly to her and hear her tell him that she’d lied.
The phone rang once.
Twice. Pick up. Pick up.
He turned at the sound of a man’s voice behind him as the phone rang a third time.
JESSICA DUG HER phone from her purse and stumbled at the sight of Jamie’s name on her screen.
“Millicent, are you okay?” Charlie caught her by the arm. “Careful in those heels.”
It took her a second to remember to respond to her given name. “Mm-hm. I um…I have to answer this. Thank you for carrying my cello.” She took it from his hands.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to wait? Call you a cab?”
They had planned on sharing a cab, but Jessica could barely think. It probably wasn’t a good idea to be in a cab with her manager when she fell apart. She’d need time to recover from whatever Jamie had to say—good or bad.
“No, thank you. I’ll get one. Thanks again.” She waved as if everything was fine and turned back toward the rear of the building for privacy. The interaction took three seconds, but in those three seconds her legs had gone weak, and she felt like she was riding a roller coaster to an impossible height. Reaching for that shred of hope she allowed herself to dream of a hundred times over the last few days, she made it five steps before needing to lean against the railing next to the building as she answered the call.
“Jamie.” She sounded as breathless as she felt.
“Jessie.”
She heard the smile in his voice, the tenderness that she remembered, and it stole the rest of her strength. She crumpled to her knees, right there beside the building. The cello case banged against the pavement. She was riding that coaster down. Down, down, down from that impossibly high peak.
“Yes,” she whispered as tears streaked her cheeks.
“Jessie. I’m sorry. Please, don’t say a word and—”
“Jamie.” She swiped at the salty tears sliding between her lips. “I’m sorry I—”
“No, please, Jess. Listen to me.” His words tumbled urgently from his lips.
Jessica tried hard to concentrate through her anticipation.
“Jess, I don’t care that you lied to me. I don’t care who you work for or what you do. I just want to be with you. I don’t care if you’ve slept with a hundred guys, or…Jessie. I love you, and I’m sorry. Please give me another chance.”
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
“You…you think I lied to you?” Her entire body shook and shivered on the hard pavement. She covered her eyes with her hand. “Jamie?”
“I don’t care. That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Jess. I love you. I made a mistake. I…I…”
She heard his tethered emotions and knew he was holding back how much he wanted to see her. He sounded just as he had the night on the beach, when he’d wanted to make love to her, and the same way he sounded after they kissed that very first time in the quad, when the bonfire had burned down to embers and the fire between them had come to life.
“I need to see you. Please,” he pleaded. “Tell me where you are and I’ll come get you.”
You think I lied to you? She couldn’t bring herself to say it aloud again. She didn’t want him to hang up. Couldn’t fathom another night apart. “I’m…” Her voice hitched.
“Baby, I’m so sorry. I’ll spend my life making this up to you. Please, tell me where you are, Jessie. I can’t go another day, another hour without seeing you.”
“I’m at the Hall. Next to.” Her breath hitched. “The Hall.”
“Hall?” He sounded confused.
“Symphony Hall, where we play.” She didn’t recognize her own voice, could barely hear it.
“Where? Where are you next to it?” His voice grew louder, and she could tell he was walking—or running.
She grabbed hold of the railing and pulled herself up to her feet, clinging to the metal bar for dear life and looking out at the main road. Thankfully, Charlie was gone. He hadn’t seen her fall to pieces.
“Boston Symphony Hall. Are you in Boston?”
Silence.
Oh God. No!
“Jamie? Jamie?” Her lower lip trembled, followed by fresh tears as her voice escalated. “Jamie, oh God, Jamie, please be there. Ohgodohgodohgod.”
“Jessie.”
She spun around and her arm fell to her side. The phone landed on the pavement with a high-pitched crash. Goose bumps chased her rapid heartbeat as she drank him in. In that instant, she knew she must be dreaming. He was too close, and closing the gap between them fast. She was powerless to move a muscle. His strong arms circled her, his big hands pressed against her back, and his heart—his generous, loving, tender heart—beat at the same frantic pace as hers.
“Jessie. Forgive me, please.”
“Okay,” was all she could manage. She was too confused to think straight. He smelled so good, so familiar. Her throat swelled with emotion, threatening to silence her. She had to figure out what was going on. “What…What did I lie about?”
“I don’t know. I don’t care.” He took her face in his hands, and she saw a flash of the mood ring, still on his finger.
“You kept it.” She breathed heavily. “You…You’re wearing it.”
He smiled—oh, how she’d missed that smile—and she felt it all the way to her toes.
“You’re here.” She grabbed the lapels of his tuxedo and held on tight, with no plans of ever letting go. “And you’re beautiful.”
“No, Jessie. You’re be
autiful.”
“Kiss me, Jamie. Please, don’t make me wait another seco—”
He sealed his lips over hers. His mouth was warm as their tongues met and found their familiar rhythm, as if they’d never been apart. His low moan told her he’d missed her as much as she’d missed him, and when he deepened the kiss, to a hungrier, rougher kiss, she pulled herself tighter against his hard body. His hands moved over her hips, down her ass, up her back, one hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping the curve of her ass. She was his. So very his.
“I’ve missed you,” he said against her lips and tugged her hair back a little, opening her mouth so he could take his fill.
She wrapped her arms around his neck as he slid his lips to her jaw and nipped, then dragged his tongue slowly over the tender spot, drawing a moan from deep inside her. His forehead touched her, and he looked deeply into her eyes. She nearly crashed to the ground again at the well of emotion that lay there. For her. For them.
“Come home with me, and I promise we’ll talk, but I need you with me, Jessie. I don’t want to let you go again.”
She nodded, still shaken to be near him again. He picked up her cello and phone, and wrapped a powerful arm around her waist, pulling her against him so hard that he was practically walking for her.
In the car, she needed to get the rest out of the way before they fell into each other’s arms again, because once they did, it might be a very long time before she remembered how to speak. But no words came.
He drove with one hand holding hers, the other on the steering wheel, bringing back memories of when they’d left Marconi Beach and pulled over on the dark side street. A rush of heat shot through her with the intimate memory.
“When you didn’t call back, I thought I’d lost you for good.” His voice was rough with desire, his eyes were dark and sensual, and as hopeful as she felt.
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