She couldn’t possibly have meant her Bradley… Could she?
“Where’s Michael?”
“Oh, um, he does an early-morning workout at the gym on weekdays before work.”
“So much for your vow of abstinence, huh?”
Heather blinked, looking first confused and then chagrined. “Yeah, so much for that,” she said and stepped aside to let Jane in.
Heather’s living room was a tribute to herself. A giant portrait of her hung over the sofa, and her modeling portfolio shots, from her short-lived stint as a wannabe model, occupied much of the other space on the walls. Barring that, the room was comfortable and homey, so long as you could be comfortable lounging on a white couch and resting your feet on a white rug.
Jane nervously glanced around for what she hoped was Michael’s heretofore unknown other friend named Bradley, and she was about to sit down on the couch when her Bradley exited the hallway bathroom and stood shirtless, staring at her.
“Oh,” she said, “hi!” But the greeting came out a bit too enthusiastically, making her sound like a used-car salesman.
Heather’s gaze darted back and forth between Bradley and Jane, until she finally said, “I was just telling Jane how Michael invited you to stay here while your apartment gets fumigated.”
He flashed a huge grin. “Oh, right. I’ve got an…ant problem. Damn ants.”
He came into the living room and sank into an over-stuffed white chair, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was topless. Jane took the opportunity to look at his chest and found herself oddly unmoved by it. Not even the hard bulges of his pecs stirred her inner slut.
Heather mumbled something about getting dressed and making some coffee and disappeared down the hallway. Meanwhile, Jane realized exactly how much preparation she’d done to her appearance before coming over—next to none. She pictured her frizzy ponytail hair, her puffy sleep-deprived eyes and her fashion-challenged outfit and decided that if Bradley really was her dream guy, he could overlook her lackluster appearance.
After all, she’d come here to check on Heather, not flirt with a guy. But then she realized—this was her big chance!
She could simultaneously make her move with Brad, clear her thoughts of Luke and set her romantic life back on the right track in one fell swoop. It would just require a bit of bravery, a good dose of faith and an ounce of luck, and she’d have Bradley right where she wanted him.
Fate had dropped this opportunity in her lap, and she would not waste it this time. Before she left Heather’s house today, she’d ask Bradley out. Maybe invite him to that new exhibit at the Dallas Museum of Art.
“So, ant problems, huh?” Jane winced at her own lousy opener. She’d have to do better than that.
“Yeah.” Bradley yawned and picked up the remote control, then stared at it, obviously searching for a Power button. “Ants everywhere.”
“I’d like to talk to you about something, if you don’t mind.” Jane’s mouth went dry, but she would not back off this time.
“Okay, sure,” he said, setting aside the remote. “What’s up?”
“I was wondering if, sometime, maybe, um…”
Heather came down the hallway, dressed now, her bed-hair tamed and her face washed clean of makeup. “Would you both like coffee?” she asked.
“Yes,” she and Bradley answered in unison.
Suddenly Jane got a weird vibe about Heather and Bradley. Heather’s unwashed face when she’d answered the door, the slinky robe she’d been wearing, the absence of her fiancé in the house… Could it be that her sister and Bradley were…
No, it couldn’t. No way. Heather was about to get married, and she wasn’t Bradley’s type at all. In college, he’d dated cool Bohemian chicks who wore black, read Sartre and smoked a lot. But still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something fishy was afoot.
When Heather was gone again, Jane turned her attention back to Bradley, back to her big opportunity to ask him out. But an image of Luke appeared in her head. Dark, dangerous, outrageously handsome Luke, making love to her against her front door, then again in her bed. Luke, the man she’d just slept with last night.
She felt like a major sleaze. How could she sleep with a man one night and wake up the next morning to ask another one out? Of course, she believed that with Bradley, there would be no premature sexual activity, no frantic lovemaking in the foyer. There would be a long courting process first, then love, then sex. Just as it was supposed to be.
But still. There was Luke. Looming in her mind. Confusing her emotions.
“Were you saying something?” Bradley asked.
“Oh, right. I was just wondering if you could maybe, sometime…give me the name of your exterminator. I’ve got an ant problem, too.”
10
When in doubt, don’t!
—Jane Langston, from Chapter Fourteen of The Sex Factor
JANE HAD PROMISED HERSELF she wouldn’t do it again. She’d made a solemn vow not to obsessively check her bestseller list status this week as each of the lists came out. Doing so only made her crazy, and a dip on any one list was enough to send her into a chocolate-eating binge.
She logged on to the Internet and checked her e-mail, all the while her Web browser beckoned. The temptation to hop on the Internet and see how her book was faring—especially on the New York Times list, where it had managed to hover at number nine for the past four weeks—was huge.
Instead, she opened a message from her sister wanting to know if she was okay. Ever since her early-morning visit a week ago, when she’d explained to Heather why she had stopped by, her sister had been completely freaked out. She called at least twice a day now to check on Jane, and she sent her an e-mail every night that Jane was expected to dutifully answer, reporting her well-being. It should have been annoying, but she actually found it endearing to have Heather fussing over her.
The other two triplets had joined in to a lesser extent, and yesterday Jane’s mother had even called to check up on her and ask if she’d considered getting a full-time bodyguard.
A full-time bodyguard. Just the thought of having Luke around twenty-four-seven gave Jane the willies.
But, Luke himself had suggested it when she’d told him about the call and the fact that her stalker had been watching and knew when Luke left her house. Jane had refused to have him move in and completely disrupt her life. Yet, late at night, she couldn’t help but second-guess her decision. When the house was dark and Jane had nothing but her new security system to keep her feeling safe, a familiar man in the house started sounding like a pretty damn good idea.
Since she’d refused that option, Luke had insisted on increasing surveillance outside her house and checking possible connections between the stalker and her sisters. She never knew when he’d be lurking about and when he wouldn’t, and at times the thought that Luke was so near drove her crazy.
Ever since the night they’d spent together a week ago, she’d made it clear to Luke that they needed to cool it, that she couldn’t go on having meaningless sex with him, because it was only distracting her and creating havoc in her life. He’d been surprisingly laid back about the whole thing too, not even flirting when he stopped by to touch base with her, and keeping their self-defense lessons strictly business. She couldn’t help thinking he was only continuing to prove her relationship theories correct—he’d gotten the free milk, and now he was ready to move on to the next cow.
She typed a quick reply to Heather, then deleted junk mail and closed her Internet connection, proud of herself for resisting the urge to check the bestseller lists. Now if she could just get herself to write a few pages of Sex and Sensibility or maybe finish her Excess column that was due next week, she’d really have reason to be proud.
She opened up the document and scrolled to the end, where she’d last been working. But the damn title was glaring at her again. Sex and Sensibility. Maybe she needed to change it, since sensibility wasn’t a quality she seemed to possess and th
erefore wasn’t exactly qualified to be writing about.
She winced at the memory of her awkward encounter with Bradley, a prime example of her lack of sensibility. A woman with any kind of sense would simply be straightforward, ask him out, and see what happened. Jane, on the other hand, had silently pined after him since college, squandering each and every opportunity she had to express her interest. Why hadn’t she seen her own weakness before now? And what was the matter with her, that she couldn’t move beyond a casual acquaintance to something deeper, something real?
Glancing at the clock, she noticed it was past time when the mail was usually delivered, so she hopped up and went to the front door to check the mailbox, happy for the opportunity to be distracted from her train of thought. A box sat on her doormat—a box that strangely didn’t have an address, yet it was taped up with her name printed across the top. No other information and no postage. Just her name.
Jane stood frozen in the doorway, her stomach revolting at the package. Whatever it was, she knew it was from him. She slammed the door and locked it, then went to the phone and called Luke.
He said he’d come right over and made her promise not to touch the package, so while she waited for him to arrive, Jane paced around the house, her knife in one hand and her heart thudding wildly in her chest.
When Luke arrived, she opened the door for him. He eyed the package on her doormat, then pulled out a pair of plastic gloves from his pocket.
“You didn’t see anyone unusual around today?” he said by way of greeting.
“Besides that creepy guy wearing a black ski mask and wielding an ax? No.”
Luke gave her his half-lidded look of forced patience. “Do you always make jokes when you’re scared?”
Jane shrugged. “Pretty much.”
After slipping the gloves over his hands, he knelt beside the box and cut the tape with a pocket knife. Once open, the contents of the box became immediately apparent—it was stacked full of magazines. And judging by the covers on top, they were all graphic, hard-core porn. Jane caught a glimpse of the covers and her stomach revolted again. She turned her attention to the white envelope Luke had just pulled out of the box.
“Looks like he left you a note, too.” He slid open the envelope and removed a piece of paper with what looked like more of the same childish handwriting that was on the outside of the box. “I think he’s writing with his other hand—the one he doesn’t normally write with.”
“Either that or I’m being stalked by a first-grader.”
Luke didn’t seem to hear her. He frowned as he read the letter, and Jane’s queasy stomach took a turn for the worse.
“What now?”
He turned the paper around and held it up for her to read.
Dear Bitch,
I thought you could use a little help jump-starting your sex life. Maybe reading these will give you some ideas for your next book.
Jane tore her gaze away from the letter before she could read any more. She didn’t want to see it, or the magazines, or her front steps. She just wanted to go hide in the house and never come out again.
“I’ll call the police,” Luke said, his expression grim.
Jane watched as he placed the letter on top of the magazines and closed the box. Her stomach churned, so she wandered into the living room and slumped on the couch. She could hear Luke on the kitchen phone, explaining the situation to someone, and a minute later he hung up and came into the room.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Oh, I’m great now that I’m all stocked up on summer reading material.”
Luke frowned. “I’m going to do more frequent surveillance, just so you’ll know. I won’t be telling you when it’s happening, but if you need to get hold of me, my cell phone or pager will be best.”
Jane closed her eyes, trying to decide if having Luke lurking about outside her house made her feel safer or not.
Or not. What it made her feel was off balance, out of control, at any moment likely to lose the last scrap of her sanity from wanting him. Completely insensible was what she felt.
JANE, PERCHED ON the velvet dressing-room couch, took in the sight of her sister in the fitted wedding dress. She looked perfect, and inexplicably tears welled up in Jane’s eyes. Suddenly, they were little girls and playing “wedding day” with white towels over their heads as veils, pretending to walk down the aisle by doing a herky-jerky march down the hallway.
Her little sister was getting married. The truth of it struck her deeper than it ever had before, and she blinked back the sentimental tears.
“What do you think?” Heather asked.
“It’s beautiful.”
Heather admired herself in the mirror for another moment, then turned to the saleslady. “Could you please leave for a few minutes? I need to talk to my sister privately.”
The same saleslady they’d encountered on Jane’s first visit to Here Comes the Bride flashed a thin smile and said something about calling if any more of her assistance was needed. When she was gone, Heather’s cheery expression disappeared.
“Janie, I’ve got big problems—”
Jane resisted the urge to scream. No more passing out bad advice to unsuspecting women, and no more playing All-Knowing Big Sister. She had to put her foot down now, before she did any more damage or drove herself crazy. “Stop right there. Whatever the big problem is, I don’t want to hear it.”
“But—”
“You think I’m such an expert, but the truth is, I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about. You’re better off solving the issue yourself, without my advice, whatever it is.”
Heather stared at her, her mouth gaping open, her brow in a state of near creasing. “But, I’m thinking about not getting married.”
Jane tried not to roll her eyes at the news. Heather loved drama, and what could be more dramatic for a bride than prewedding jitters? She wasn’t buying it. Heather was clearly head over heels for Michael, and she’d been planning her own wedding ever since their childhood towel-wearing days.
“Everybody gets scared before their wedding. But like I said, I’m not handing out any more advice. If you’ve got issues, you need to talk to Michael about them, not me.”
Okay, so she was being a little coldhearted, but Heather would be better off for it. Jane didn’t have an ounce of proof that any of her advice had ever brought anyone lasting happiness.
Her sister gave her one last doubtful glance, but then shrugged her shoulders in defeat. “I guess you’re right.”
“How do the shoes look with the dress?” Jane asked, eager to distract Heather with her favorite subject.
She picked up the skirt of her dress to reveal a pair of strappy white satin heels. “Aren’t these the best? It’s a shame to hide them under a dress. I might wear them to the rehearsal dinner, too.”
Jane nodded her approval, but Heather was too busy admiring her feet in the mirror to notice.
After Jane tried on her altered bridesmaid dress to make sure it fit, they said their goodbyes, and she found herself driving home alone and wanting to be anything but. She’d driven the route from downtown to her house often enough that she went on autopilot and found herself thinking of Luke, until she took the highway exit closest to her neighborhood.
After a few blocks, she got a creepy feeling. Jane peered into the rearview mirror and frowned at the headlights that had been following her since the highway. Maybe she was being overly paranoid, but it sure did seem like she was being followed. She tried to make out the car, but it was too dark. All she could see were headlights.
She traveled through her neighborhood with a growing sense of dread, and when she came to the turn onto her street, she hesitated. The car was still behind her.
No, she was just freaking out over nothing. She’d pull into her driveway and the car would keep going. It was probably just one of her neighbors wishing she’d quit driving so damn slow. She switched on her left turn signal at the last second and made the
turn. The car behind her followed without signaling. That, Jane decided, was her cue to call Luke.
Her heart raced as she kept driving past her house and weaved back through the neighborhood toward the main road. She fumbled in her purse until she found her cell phone, then punched in Luke’s number with one hand while she steered with the other.
The car that had been following her made a right turn onto a side street, and she could see as it turned that it was actually a blue minivan. Probably a soccer mom on her way home from a late trip to the grocery store. Jane suddenly felt like a monumental idiot.
Luke answered after three rings, sounding like he’d been asleep.
“It’s Jane. I’m sorry, I thought I was being followed, but the car just disappeared. Temporary insanity, I guess.”
“Where are you?” His voice had gone from groggy to dangerously clear in an instant.
“I’m in my neighborhood right now, but the car is gone.”
“How long did it follow you?”
“A few miles, maybe.” Jane pulled over to the curb and let her car idle. She exhaled all her pent-up tension. “I’m not sure, though—at least since my exit on the highway.”
“It’s good that you called, whether the car was following you or not. You might have scared him off by picking up your cell phone.”
Jane imagined herself going home alone, still wondering. She hated the constant feeling of vulnerability that hung over her these days, a feeling that someone else was in control, and that she was constantly waiting for something bad to happen.
“Should I go to the police station, just to be safe?”
“Do you know how to get there?”
“Um, no.”
“How about a fire station?”
“No.”
“I’m not sure where the closest one is to you. Drive to my house.”
Jane blinked. Had she been waiting for him to invite her over? It suddenly felt as if she had. She bit her lip and wondered if she could really resist temptation once she was in his lair, in that private space of his she’d never entered before.
What A Girl Wants (Harlequin Blaze) Page 14