Sugar and Spice: 3 Contemporary Romances

by Jenny Jacobs

  Chapter Seven

  At the hospital, Jordan knocked quietly on the door to his mother’s room and then stuck his head in when she gave a low-voiced response.

  “Up for a visit?” Sadie heard him ask. He must have gotten an affirmative answer because then he pushed the door open and tugged Sadie into the room after him.

  Mrs. Matthews looked pale and drawn, pain evident on her face. She had tubes and wires running from her arm and her chest and machines hummed and blinked lights and numbers into the dimness of the room. She rolled her head on the pillow to look at them, no longer elegant and put together but old and tired. She summoned a smile. Sadie’s heart nearly broke at the effort she made.

  “We won’t stay long,” Sadie said. Jordan seemed struck silent by the sight of his mother and all of the medical equipment surrounding her. This time Sadie tugged his hand to pull him nearer the bed. It wasn’t like what Mrs. Matthews had was contagious, but people were weird when they got into hospital rooms, reluctant to get too close out of some superstitious fear of causing harm or being harmed.

  “You look pretty miserable,” she said to Mrs. Matthews without thinking.

  Mrs. Matthews gave a weak chuckle, her blue eyes dull from the pain and the medications. Sadie’s heart squeezed. Just yesterday she’d seemed so upbeat and optimistic.

  “That’s exactly how I feel,” Mrs. Matthews managed. She coughed, clearing her throat, and Sadie reached for the cup of ice water on her tray, then held it for her to sip from.

  “Thank you.” Mrs. Matthews’ voice had fallen to a whisper and she took a shallow breath that told Sadie how much pain she was in.

  “The anesthesia has worn off, I bet,” Sadie said. “It always hurts more after that.” She didn’t have much personal experience, but Gran had always said so, and sometimes a little querulously.

  “Is there anything I can do?” Jordan finally spoke, for which Sadie was grateful. These conversations were always difficult and almost beside the point, but you had to have them. Otherwise, you’d just be staring at each other.

  Mrs. Matthews shook her head, keeping her face tilted toward Jordan, her eyes on him.

  “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?” he insisted. “I can get you some magazines. Or some music.”

  “No, thank you, darling. Not just yet.”

  Jordan nodded, touching her hand, the one unencumbered by tubes and needles. “Just let me know.” Then, “Should I get a nurse to bring pain meds?”

  Sadie smiled. Gramps had been a fixer, too. Mrs. Matthews gestured toward the IV in her arm. “I’m on a drip, darling.”

  Jordan raked a hand through his hair, obviously feeling thwarted at his inability to make everything better, needing to do something.

  “What about a blanket?” Sadie suggested, giving Mrs. Matthews a conspiratorial look.

  Mrs. Matthews responded with a smile for her son. “Yes. I am a little cold.”

  Jordan nodded and left the room in search of another blanket. With luck it would require just enough effort to satisfy his need to do something but not so much as to prove annoying.

  “If you’d like to sleep, we can leave right after Jordan gets back. And I certainly don’t need to stay if you’d rather just have him.”

  Mrs. Matthews hesitated, then said, “A little company is fine.”

  Sadie remembered that from when Gran was sick. She glanced around the room, then pulled up the plastic visitor’s chair and sat.

  Now what?

  Mrs. Matthews settled back against the pillows. “I’m tired, so you’ll have to talk.”

  “Um,” Sadie said. Talk? About what? She hoped not about Jordan and how they met and fell in love. “Okay.” She pushed down the feeling of panic that made her stomach churn. Panicking wouldn’t help. What would help? “Okay,” she said again, then stopped, not sure where to begin.

  “Tell me … about yourself.”

  Sadie cleared her throat. That was easy enough, though there wasn’t much to tell. She hoped Jordan got back soon. “I own a bookstore in a small town.”

  Mrs. Matthews made an encouraging sound and Sadie kept talking and found out she had far more to say than she’d thought.

  • • •

  Jordan paused just on the threshold of the hospital room, the requested blanket over one arm. Sadie was sitting on a visitor’s chair that she’d pulled close to his mother’s bed and she was bent near his mother, chattering about something, holding his mother’s hand gently clasped in hers. What were they talking about? He hoped not him. His mother would realize he’d misled her about Sadie if they spoke about him at all. Sadie was a terrible liar, which he probably should have established first, before asking her to be involved in what was basically a big lie. But despite her lack of skill at prevarication, he was glad she was here. Even if he couldn’t quite figure out why.

  He cleared his throat to let them know they should stop talking about him if that was what they were doing, then came into the room. Sadie glanced over her shoulder and smiled when she spied the blanket. The smile was so warm and friendly that it made him blink.

  The matching smile on his mother’s face made him realize that though they weren’t talking about him, they had duped him in the matter of providing his mother something she needed. He supposed he had sounded a little desperate to do something, as well he had been. Watching her there so pale and frail had reminded him of all the times he had wanted to do something for her but had never been able to.

  He gave an answering smile and put the blanket on the foot of the bed in case his mother needed it after all, which he very much doubted.

  Sadie got to her feet and kissed his mother on the cheek, then came over and kissed him on the cheek, standing on her tiptoes to do it and carefully avoiding getting anywhere near his mouth. Was she worried about a repeat performance of yesterday’s kiss? She needn’t be. He was almost certain that had been the direct result of stress and unexpected attraction, not any kind of affection whatsoever.

  “I’ll let you two have a few minutes together,” she said, patting his back, and then she slipped out of the room.

  He didn’t realize he’d turned to watch her go until his mother said, “Thank you for the blanket,” and he had to turn his attention back to her.

  “You’re welcome,” he said. He wished he’d thought to bring flowers. At least that would have brightened the room and it would have given him something to do. He saw that Randall hadn’t brought or sent any either. Had he even called to ask her how she was feeling? Had his administrative assistant even bothered to find out if she’d survived the surgery? The familiar anger roiled in his gut. He shoved his hands into his pockets and forced himself not to say anything.

  “You’ll take good care of her, won’t you?” his mother asked.

  “What?” he asked, not following her line of thinking, focused still on what he’d like to say to Randall. Not that anything he said would make any difference. Nothing he said ever had.

  “Sadie,” his mother said, frowning at him. “You’ll take good care of her, won’t you?”

  “Of course,” he said automatically. He shifted his thoughts from Randall to Sadie. She was definitely more appealing to think about than Randall was, but what taking care of did Sadie need? She seemed perfectly capable of taking care of herself. He remembered their conversation earlier. Even if she didn’t maximize her profit potential. “She’ll be fine,” he said, feeling a little smile coming on.

  His mother tightened her lips. “She’ll be fine? That’s how you think about your fiancée? Jordan, I know I haven’t always been a good role model — ”

  “Don’t say things like that,” he interrupted. “You’ve always been an excellent role model — ”

  “Please. It’s not time for the eulogy just yet.”

  “Mother �
�� ” She was angry and he wasn’t quite sure how that had happened.

  “I’m concerned about Sadie,” she said, her voice rising in a way that made him shut up and listen. “And you. That’s all.”

  She closed her eyes, surrendering to the fatigue he knew must be overwhelming. Her face looked translucent and fragile and he didn’t want to upset her or fight with her, but he also didn’t want to dismiss her concerns the way Randall would. But the truth of the matter was Sadie wasn’t his fiancée and he had no obligation to look out for her. Besides, she would be fine. She’d go back to Ohio and run her bookstore in the least profitable way —

  “You don’t need to be concerned,” he said. “Sadie and I will be fine.” She’d have a big check to fix Aunt Gertrude’s roof and he’d have cheered up his mother. Although so far, she didn’t seem very cheered.

  “She loves her bookstore,” his mother fretted. “It will break her heart to give it up.”

  “She won’t give it up,” he said without thinking, because of course Sadie wouldn’t. She’d go back to it and everything would be the same. Except Aunt Gertrude would have a new roof. So things would be better. No one could blame him for that, right? That was an excellent outcome.

  “You’ll help her open a bookstore here?” his mother asked, her voice lifting hopefully.

  “Good heavens, no,” he said. There wasn’t enough of a profit margin in independent bookstores to attract him to invest in one — especially considering the cost of property in New York. Though Sadie was nice enough as a person, he surely wouldn’t put her in charge of one of his businesses, not if he expected any kind of decent return on his investment.

  Now his mother looked bewildered. “No? But then she’ll have to give up the shop.” That seemed to distress her, although why, Jordan couldn’t imagine. Even supposing Sadie had to — which she didn’t — she’d just go on to the next thing. Like Jordan did, or would, if that was how events played out. “Unless you plan to live in Ohio,” his mother ventured.

  That was an appalling thought. “No,” he said. “New York is my base. Besides, you’re here.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Is it going to be one of those modern marriages? You live here, she lives there, and you meet up sometimes? Because frankly, Jordan, I can’t imagine you being satisfied with that.”

  I can’t imagine Sadie being satisfied with that, either, he thought, and wondered where the thought had come from. What did it matter what Sadie wanted? What made him think he could begin to know?

  “Jordan Blaise,” his mother said, struggling to sit up and glaring at him, the monitors making angry beeping noises at them. “What do you intend to do to that poor girl?”

  “What?” Jordan asked, alarmed. “Relax,” he said, trying to get her to lean back against the pillows. He hadn’t meant to get her so agitated. He just hadn’t been thinking clearly. He hadn’t been thinking clearly since he’d landed in Cedar Valley, Ohio. “What do you mean, what am I going to do to her? I’m not doing anything to her.” The thought of Sadie being hurt seemed to be his mother’s main concern, so he tried to reassure her about that, but she wasn’t having any.

  “If you won’t live there, then she’ll have to live here, which means she’ll have to sell her shop. She can’t very well run it from Manhattan. But you won’t help her start a new one here? Jordan, what are you thinking? I very much doubt she has the capital to lease property in this city.”

  “She doesn’t want my help,” he said, remembering their conversation earlier when she compared him to a soulless bean-counter. He still wasn’t sure if he should be mad or amused by that.

  “That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard you say, Jordan, and I am accustomed to hearing six ridiculous things a day from you.”

  He blinked, astonished at her vehemence. “Mother, calm down. Please. I’m not going to make her do anything she doesn’t want to do. I’m not going to break her heart by making her sell her bookstore. Look, she and I haven’t worked out the details yet. We don’t even have a wedding date, you know. There’s time to sort it out.”

  “Don’t leave it too long,” his mother warned. “If you have different expectations of what married life will be like, you should know that now.” She looked away, her fingers plucking at the blanket. “Not when it’s too late.”

  His heart twisted. She meant herself. Her marriage to Randall. He wished he could offer some comfort, but he didn’t know what to say. He should have been a little cheered by the fact that his mother had handed him the perfect way out. When she was stronger, in a week or a month, he could tell her that he and Sadie had had a heart-to-heart talk and realized their expectations were indeed different. But somehow the thought didn’t relieve him the way it should have.

  Chapter Eight

  Jordan looked pensive as he climbed into the backseat of the town car. Sadie’s heart tumbled. She wished there were something she could do or say that would make it better. But even with all the losses she’d suffered, she’d never heard anyone say anything that made a difference.

  She touched the back of his hand. Connection. There was always that. They were two humans who wouldn’t have come together under ordinary circumstances but who could care about each other, anyway. That was a gift, and it was worth something even if he maybe couldn’t see it at the moment.

  He didn’t grasp her fingers but he didn’t move his hand away either. He leaned his head back against the seat and said wearily, “Some adventure this is turning out to be, Sadie-belle.”

  Her heart kicked at the affectionate nickname. “I wasn’t expecting an adventure,” she said primly, but he laughed and now he did close his fingers around hers.

  “Yes, you were,” he contradicted her. “The only reason you’re here is because you were bored that day in the shop.”

  That was true enough. She didn’t deny it. But she also didn’t point out that she should have known better. Even if he was a pirate, his purpose — and by extension, hers — was to make someone who was sick feel better and that didn’t exactly constitute an adventure in any of the accepted senses of the word. She shrugged. What kind of response could she offer?

  His smile deepened and he leaned forward and said to Peter, “We need to show Sadie the sights.”

  “Very good,” Peter said, glancing in the rearview mirror. “Which sights?”

  “It’s getting late, Jordan,” Sadie protested. Normally she was tucked away with a good book by this time of the evening. But there was something thrilling about being with Jordan and talking about seeing sights instead of going back to the hotel. Unlike trying to navigate the city on her own, he’d know how to show her a good time without making her feel nervous about the lateness of the hour. Which could not be said of any of the less reliable men she’d known. The more reliable ones had always struck her as unutterably boring. Jordan was neither boring nor unreliable.

  “Something touristy,” he was saying to Peter. “So Sadie can feel like she’s been in New York.”

  She poked him in the ribs. “Not something touristy. I can do that on my own without any help. Bring me some place that’s special to you.”

  He looked startled and drew back. Well, she wouldn’t want him to think that she was trying to get to know him better or anything. Obviously, that would be unacceptable. “Show me the real New York,” she added so that he could stop worrying that she might pry a personal detail out of him. It wasn’t that she particularly cared to learn about what was special to him — she was just trying to see or do something she wouldn’t be able to see or do from a tour bus.

  “The real New York?” he inquired. “As opposed to the fake one?” He smiled and when he smiled, he took her breath away.

  When she got it back, she said very firmly, “Yes.”

  He nodded, then said to Peter, “Let’s try Sweet and Sour.”

  A
tiny thrill shivered through Sadie. That had to be a nightclub. A nightclub sounded much more promising than Times Square or a book in her hotel room, although she wasn’t sure it counted, exactly, as an adventure. Still, she would take what she could get.

  She settled back in her seat and watched the street lights flash by. Jordan’s cell phone stayed silent, which was very restful, and a little later, Peter stopped to let them out. Sadie glanced up at the tall brick building they’d pulled up in front of, uncomprehending. “This looks like an apartment building.”

  “It is,” Jordan said, and taking her hand hauled her out of the car. Maybe he’d brought her here to have his way with her. She could hope. “The club is down the street,” he said, indicating the direction they should take.

  “And Peter couldn’t drop us there because?”

  “Because this is not the kind of club where it impresses people if you show up with a car and driver.”

  Excellent. Sadie tugged at his hand to make him walk faster.

  “Don’t worry,” he laughed. “Sadie-belle, we have plenty of time to get there.”

  She glanced over her shoulder and her heart tripped, and she stumbled on the sidewalk. She was on an adventure and she just hadn’t realized it yet. The very last adventure she’d expected to be on with Jordan: she was falling in love with him.

  • • •

  The band — a trio — was playing some sort of ska that would probably set off the headache he was trying not to have but at least Sadie would be happy. She lived in a college town, so it wouldn’t be as if she had never experienced anything like this before, but he suspected she didn’t do it often enough to have grown accustomed to it.

  He had his hand on her back with the idea that he would guide her, but she headed straight for a table near the tiny stage without consulting him. He might have liked one of the leather banquettes along the walnut-paneled wall. But they were here for Sadie, not for him, so let her choose.