by Beth Orsoff
“You look nice,” he said.
She glanced down at her outfit as if she’d never seen it before. “Thanks. You too.”
He’d left his jacket and tie back in his apartment, but he was still wearing his black slacks and white button-down shirt, now open at the neck. He thought he looked like a waiter.
“Rough day?” she asked as they stepped out onto the sidewalk.
He shrugged. “Typical Monday.”
They fell into a rhythm, and for the first block, the only sounds he heard were the honking horns and blaring car stereos from the traffic on Hollywood Boulevard and their footsteps as they pounded the pavement in lock step. He actually found the ambient city noise soothing, and he started to relax.
Then she said, “People say it helps to talk about it.”
Had he tuned out again? No, he was sure he hadn’t. “Talk about what?”
“What’s bothering you. Or are you one of those stoic types who likes to keep it all bottled up?”
He laughed. “I don’t know about stoic. And I apologize if this sounds sexist—”
“Here it comes,” she said and rolled her eyes.
He laughed again. “Sorry, but I think talking about your problems is more of a woman thing.”
“Well, in my experience, the male clients like to bitch about their ex-wives just as much as the female clients like to complain about their ex-husbands, sometimes more.”
Jake thought about it. “You’re right. I stand corrected.”
“Good. Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“And where is it exactly that we’re getting?”
“The reason behind your seriously bad mood.”
She was looking up at him with a huge grin. He smiled back at her and felt his mood brighten. “Is it that obvious?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sorry you agreed to have dinner with me?”
“Actually, I think I asked you out to dinner, but no, I’m not sorry. I just wish you would tell me what’s wrong.”
He considered it … and couldn’t think of a good reason not to. “You don’t happen to know anyone looking to house-sit in Los Feliz for three months, do you?”
“As a matter of fact I do. And so do you.”
“I do?”
“Michael and Whitney,” she said as if it was obvious.
And it was. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it himself.
Chapter 65
Samantha
It was fate, or karma, or just plain old good luck.
I’d done a quick online search this afternoon after my meeting with Michael and discovered that he hadn’t exaggerated how much rents had risen in the last few years. Whitney’s income was erratic, and Michael’s was so low that it made finding a place that met both their requirements—close to the hospital and nice enough that Whitney would agree to live there—a challenge.
I’d planned on enlisting Jenna’s help. Almost all of her clients were moving, either into the bride’s home, the groom’s, or a new one they found together, so she always knew about great places for rent. But now I didn’t have to. A solution had fallen into my lap. And it was the best price of all—free. Whitney couldn’t say no!
“Why would I want to house-sit for three months?” Whitney whined when I filled her in later that night. My evening with Jake had ended with a tousle over the check (I’d asked him to dinner and fully intended to pay, but he insisted on covering the bill) and a chaste kiss on the cheek after he’d walked me to my car.
“How about because you can live there rent-free.” We’d started speaking to each other again that morning, but just barely.
She returned to the magazine she’d been reading when I’d arrived. “I already live here rent-free.”
I glanced at the coffee table, where the detritus of her dinner—dirty plate, crumpled napkin, water stain where her glass had been because she never bothered to use a coaster—remained. She’d also rearranged the pillows on my couch, left a pile of magazines on the floor, and my cashmere throw was in a heap at her feet. Jake or no Jake, I was ready for her to move out.
“You’re a newlywed, Whitney. Don’t you want your privacy?”
She flipped the page in her magazine. “What does it matter? Michael’s never home anyway.”
“He’s off one day a week.”
She looked up. “How do you know his schedule?”
Oops. She hadn’t told me; he had, at our secret meeting today. And even though I wanted to lay into her for telling Michael that we’d all gone to Lux the night before the wedding (although in her defense, that was before I’d sworn her to secrecy), I couldn’t without giving myself away. And Michael had promised he wouldn’t mention it to Jake, although that was after he’d lectured me on the importance of honesty in a relationship. The irony of us mutually agreeing not to tell Whitney we’d met behind her back that day was lost on him.
“I didn’t. I guessed. But now you’ve confirmed it for me. So I’m asking again: Is there some reason you don’t want to live with Michael? Something you’re not telling me?”
“No. And why are you so suspicious of me? Jake’s the one you should be wary of.”
We’d had this conversation already. Twice. Once yesterday in a screaming match, then again more calmly this morning. I understood where she was coming from—now that she’d pointed out the similarities between Jake and Marco I could see them myself. But it was all superficial stuff. On the inside they were completely different. And even if they weren’t, I would never make the same mistakes our mother had. She should know me better than that.
The worst that could happen was I could get my heart broken. But at least I’d get to have sex again! Of course Ms. I Just Got Back From My Sex-Filled Honeymoon In Hawaii was dismissive of that concern. She’d never go a year without sex. She’d never have to. “Whitney, I know that you’re just looking out for me, and I appreciate it, I really do. But you need to butt out.”
She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “I have a lot more experience with men like him than you do, Samantha.” I was about to object when she put her hand up. “But I know better than to argue with a lawyer.”
Jake messengered the house keys to my office. I admit I was disappointed that he didn’t want to deliver them himself, but I knew he was busy. And I’d promised Jenna I’d stop obsessing over every little thing.
Whitney and I drove over to the house together on Thursday night.
“Holy shit,” she said when I pulled into the circular driveway. “You didn’t tell me I’d be house-sitting a mansion.”
Mansion was overstating it, but it was definitely big. Five bedrooms, four bathrooms, and an amazing view of the downtown skyline. But the whole house seemed to be stuck in a sixties time warp, from the wood-paneled walls to the lime-green shag carpeting.
“Do you think you could stick it out here for three months?” Not having a functioning kitchen for six weeks had made it a hard sell. I had to promise Whitney she could come and cook at my place whenever she wanted—as long as she called first! But I was concerned that the decor might be a deal breaker for her.
“Are you kidding me? This place is fantastic.”
I glanced at the burnt orange sofa then back at my sister. “Seriously?”
“It’s so kitschy. I love it!”
I wasn’t going to argue with her.
“Think of the parties we could have here,” she continued as she strolled across the cavernous living room to the sliding glass doors that led to the patio and the pool.
Uh oh. “Whitney, this isn’t your house. You can’t trash the place.”
But I could tell from the dreamy expression on her face that she’d already stopped listening.
Chapter 66
Jake
“The good news is she loves the house,” Samantha said.
“So what’s the bad news?” Jake asked as he signed three letters Caroline had placed on his desk.
“She’s already planning the f
irst party.”
“Why is that bad?” Hell, he’d stop by with a bottle of champagne to thank her. Without Whitney around to interfere, he’d reconsidered his stance on crazy and decided the chase was definitely back on.
“You don’t know Whitney’s friends. Things can get kind of out of control.”
As long as the drama was confined to his mother’s companion’s house, he couldn’t have cared less. “So when can I see you again?”
“I don’t know. When would you like to see me?”
Now. All of you. On my desk, on my couch, and in my bed. “How about this weekend?”
“I’d love to, but Whitney’s moving in on Saturday. I’d say there’s a ninety-nine point nine percent chance I will get roped into helping her.”
Not if he had any say in the matter. “You can’t help her if you’re out of town.”
“And where am I going to be?”
A plan was forming, but he hadn’t worked out the details yet. “All I can tell you is it’ll be someplace warm.”
She laughed. “It’s summer. That could be anyplace.”
“Then you’ll be surprised, won’t you?”
Chapter 67
Samantha
I squeezed the phone between my shoulder and ear so I could continue packing my suitcase. “He still won’t tell me where we’re going. All he said was bring a bathing suit.”
“This is so exciting,” Jenna squealed. “I love new relationships. They’re filled with potential.”
That explained why she changed boyfriends every few months. “Yeah, potential for disaster.”
“Why are you being so negative?”
“I’m a lawyer. It’s my job to think of the negative.”
“Well, you’re not going to be a lawyer this weekend. You’re going to be getting your groove on with Mr. Hottie.”
I stopped packing and folded my arms across my chest. “Why is sex a foregone conclusion? Maybe we’re just going to spend the weekend getting to know each other better.”
When she stopped howling with laughter, she said, “Oh please, you want to fuck him just as much he wants to fuck you.”
I did, but I didn’t want to admit it. I was nervous enough. “And what happens if we sleep together and it’s terrible? We’re spending the entire weekend in each other’s company. Talk about awkward.”
“It’s not going to be terrible. It’s going to be fantastic.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do,” she said, “because unlike the last loser you dated, Jake’s slept with tons of women. He knows how to please.”
That did not calm my nerves. It made my stomach even queasier. What if I didn’t measure up? I wasn’t a virgin, but I was still in single digits. And I hadn’t had sex in a year. I’d be lucky if I could remember how to do it at all!
“I was starting to wonder if you’d changed your mind,” Jake said when I opened the front door. He looked gorgeous, as always, in dark-rinse jeans and a black polo shirt.
“Sorry, I was just finishing up some last-minute packing.” In truth I hadn’t heard him knocking on my front door because I’d barricaded myself in the upstairs bathroom. I’d segued from nervous to terrified, and my stomach was rebelling.
“Did you remember your bathing suit?”
At least he hadn’t asked if I’d remembered condoms. I had—Jenna reminded me to pack them before we’d hung up—not that I needed reminding. “I never leave home without it.”
“You’re my kind of girl.”
I doubted that, at least not his usual kind of girl. But I was going to be his kind of girl this weekend. It was too late to back out now.
Chapter 68
Jake
It was obvious she was nervous; she wouldn’t stop fidgeting. After she’d changed the radio station for the fifth time—and in the middle of a song he really liked too—he reached over and placed his hand on her bouncing knee. “It’s going to be okay, Samantha. Really.”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” Then she pasted a plastic smile onto her face.
“I promise we won’t do anything you don’t want to do.”
“I know.”
“Good, because if you don’t relax, I’m going to need a tranquilizer.” He was glad they’d decided to leave late to avoid the worst of the Friday night traffic. It meant they’d be able to make it to the Solomons’ beach house in one hour instead of two, and that was almost too long. He needed to get this woman a drink and fast!
She finally smiled for real. “Sorry, I’m just nervous. I haven’t done this for a while.”
He guessed which “this” she was referring to. “In case you were wondering”—he purposely didn’t say worried—“there are multiple bedrooms where we’ll be staying.” That was one of the reasons he’d asked Michael if they could borrow his parents’ beach house for the weekend rather than just booking them a room in a hotel. The house had three bedrooms. Of course the intent was that they would end up sharing one room, but he didn’t want to seem presumptuous. This way, the choice would be hers.
“Are we going to the Solomons’ beach house?” she asked as he turned off PCH onto the private drive shared only by the Solomons and their neighbors.
“Yes. Is that okay?”
“Absolutely. I was dying to see the inside the day of the wedding, but I never got past the downstairs bathroom. According to Whitney it’s beautiful.”
“I chose it since this is where we met.” He silently congratulated himself on coming up with a great line. He wasn’t going to tell her it was all about the bedrooms. He thought the reference to where they’d met sounded romantic, and that’s what this weekend was all about, after all. And sex, of course.
Chapter 69
Samantha
Ugh! Is that one stupid little lie going to haunt me for the rest of my life? I had to come clean with him and admit we’d met at Lux; I knew that. But not this weekend. Telling him now would ruin everything.
He grabbed both of our overnight bags from the trunk—mine was bulging at the zipper and his appeared to be half empty—and we walked up the stone path to the front door. I was surprised the inside lights were already on. The Solomons must have had them on a timer.
“There’s food in the fridge if you’re hungry,” Jake said as he punched in the alarm code.
“The Solomons keep the fridge stocked?” That surprised me too since, according to Whitney, they rarely used the place, preferring to spend their weekends on their boat or at their house in Beverly Hills.
“I arranged for their housekeeper to pick up a few things. I didn’t think my usual takeout places would deliver this far.”
I walked into the large, open kitchen and peered inside the fridge, which was empty except for a bunch of grapes, a case of water, a brick of cheese, a six-pack of beer, and one very expensive-looking bottle of champagne. The makings for a great picnic, but hardly enough to get us through the weekend.
Jake joined me in front of the open refrigerator. “I guess I should’ve been more explicit.”
Which made me wonder what he’d told her we’d be doing here this weekend for her to come up with that on her own. I shut the refrigerator and started peeking in cabinet drawers until I found what I was looking for—takeout menus. Most were for pizza places, but there was one for a Chinese restaurant. Although my stomach was still flip-flopping, I hadn’t eaten dinner and was hungry. I thought food might cure my queasiness too.
I didn’t hear Jake come up behind me, but I knew he was standing nearby because I could feel the heat emanating from his body. Yet I still shivered when he asked, “Do you want to order something?” It was the sensation of his warm breath on the back of my bare neck. He must’ve noticed because he asked, “Are you cold? I can turn on the heat.”
How could I explain without embarrassing myself? I couldn’t. “No, the cool air feels good.” It was always cold at night at the beach, even in summer.
“Then can I tempt you with some food?”
/>
He could tempt me with more than just food. “Sure.”
“Good.” He held up the takeout menus. “Pizza or Chinese?”
We ate our shrimp fried rice, beef with broccoli, and chicken pot stickers at the kitchen island. Jake washed his down with a beer, but I stuck with bottled water.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” he asked after we’d loaded the dirty dishes into the dishwasher.
“I’d rather take a tour of the house.” So far all I’d seen of it was the kitchen.
I was surprised it wasn’t bigger. But I knew it was still worth a fortune because of its location perched above Malibu beach. Besides the large kitchen, the downstairs contained a dining room with a long farmhouse table, a family room with a comfy L-shaped couch, a den, which the Solomons were using as a home office, and a bathroom. All three bedrooms were upstairs, each with their own baths too.
It was the master bedroom that sold me—a balcony large enough for two lounge chairs with a view of the ocean, giant his and her closets, and an enormous bathroom with a sunken spa tub. No wonder Whitney wanted to live there with Michael. I was ready to move in too.
I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Even without my glasses, I could read the huge red numbers: 11:17. Jake must’ve noticed because he said, “We can call it a night if you’re tired.”
“You don’t mind?” I wasn’t tired; I just wanted to end the suspense of where we would each be sleeping.
“No, I’m tired too. I’ll get our bags.”
I stood at the top of the staircase and waited for him to return. The master was on one side of the steps; the two smaller bedrooms were on the other.
Chapter 70
Jake
He headed straight for the master bedroom and set her suitcase down on the bench at the foot of the bed, then returned to the hallway with his own bag still slung over his shoulder. She glanced at it but said nothing.