by Jenna Harte
Guided by the street light shining through the large panel window in the living room, Jack made his way up the hall. He took time to look at the home she made for herself. It was a lot like her; neat, tidy, and classic. And yet something was missing. She had all the requisite furniture; an overstuffed couch flanked by an oak side table. Next to that a chair. She'd indulged in a stuffed chaise lounge that sat next to a built-in book case surrounding a brick fire place. But there were no pictures. No knick-knacks. It reminded him of a spec house not a home. Where was her stuff?
He told himself he wasn't snooping by opening the doors that enclosed the lower part of the book cases, even though he was pretty sure she'd think so. He found a few law books. Boring. He opened the doors on the bookcase on the opposite side of the fireplace. There he found fiction books, mostly mystery by the look of them. He recognized the J.D. Robb books as those his mother had enjoyed. He'd read a couple of them to her during her illness. She had liked them not so much because of the mystery or that they took place in the future, but because of the characters, particularly the kick-ass cop and her handsome, rich, recently reformed husband. Jack wondered if that was what drew Tess to the books as well. That could work in his favor. He was rich, handsome and recently reformed as well.
Actually he wondered a lot about her. He'd remembered a beautiful, vivacious woman who'd captivated him from the first moment he'd met her over five years ago. The woman he'd seen tonight was different, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. She was still beautiful, even more so now that she'd put some meat on her bones. But she was wary, guarded. He couldn't decide if it was towards him specifically or if it was being at the Worthington's. They were certainly a family that could suck the life out of a person. Maybe she was, as he'd been for so long, disillusioned with the world. Or maybe it was just because she wasn't feeling well.
Whatever the reason, the difference in her hadn't changed his reaction to her. Seeing her re-awakened something in him; something he thought he'd lost or had died inside him. In the three years since she'd left D.C., his life had sucked. His mother's illness and subsequent death cost him a great deal. The grief had been devastating and ended only when he'd learned not to feel anymore, with the help of alcohol and women. But that took a toll on him as well. When you don't care, life has a way of spiraling out of control.
It had taken time, but he was finally back on the right path. The point of life still eluded him, but at least he had goals. He had been going to bed and waking up sober for nearly a year. And he was working again. According to his friends, that was the sign of progress. But it wasn't until tonight, until he's seen Tess that he'd felt anything other than numb in the last three years.
He closed the doors to the bookcase and walked to the kitchen. It, along with the rest of the house, maintained much of its original charm. He wondered if she'd restored the house. Having spent many summers working for his mother's real estate flipping business, he knew a thing or two about home improvement. Who'd ever done this house, had done well. All it needed was a decorator.
He found a glass in the cupboard and filled it with water from the tap. Leaning against the counter to drink, he noticed a fish bowl.
"Who are you?" he said as he peered at the bluish-red fish swimming in bowl. The fish paid little attention as it darted through the water. Jack wondered what it was doing. Except for some colored rocks, there was nothing in the bowl to entertain the fish.
"To bad you can't talk," he said. "I'd like to know if your owner is usually so difficult or is it just me?" She couldn't be mad at him. Not still. But wasn't that like a woman to be mad and not let the man explain or even know why she was mad.
He put his glass in the sink and made his way back to the living area. As he passed through her dining area he noticed her iPod sitting by her laptop.
"What are you listening to these days, Tess?" he asked. She'd been an old R&B fan when he'd last seen her. He scrolled through her playlist and found that that hadn't changed. Barry White. Chaka Khan. Ray Charles. Aretha Franklin. Marvin Gaye. He was more of a rock music kind of guy himself, but always willing to try out different musical sounds. He clicked on Marvin Gaye to see what songs she had. "No sexual healing," he said naming one of the only two songs he knew Marvin had done. It did have "Let's Get it On" and some song called "You Sure Love to Ball". His lips curved upward at the idea that Tess' new cool demeanor covered up the warm sensual side he'd remembered.
Curious, he pulled his ear buds from the iPhone in his pocket and slipped them into her iPod. He clicked on the song as he moved back to the couch. Grabbing the throw blanket folded over the back of the couch, he lay down. The couch and the blanket were too short for his large frame. Adjusting the pillows, and putting his feet on the armrest, he settled in to listen to Marvin's smooth voice asking his lady to turn around so that he could love her.
He wondered what it would take to have Tess allow him to love her, not just physically, but emotionally as well. Before he could find out though, he needed to be upfront with her, which meant coming clean and confessing what he'd done to Asa earlier that night.
Chapter Nine
Tess rolled over and willed the room to stop spinning. Opening her eyes to get her bearings, she saw the ice covered yard through the sliding doors of her bedroom. Jefferson Tavern, Virginia was known for its brilliant spring flowers and autumn leaves, but the guide books failed to mention its worst attribute, February. To Tess, February in Jefferson Tavern was like a month full of Mondays. It was dark, cold, and endless despite its being only 28 days. The trees stood like dead twigs ready to break as the ice coated the branches. The dormant grass, lush and green for most of the year, now looked as peaked as she felt. Then there was the sleet. It had taken some time for Tess to remember the difference between sleet and freezing rain. Sleet, she determined, was like Slurpees falling from the sky only without color or taste.
The thought of Slurpees sent her stomach tumbling again. Scrambling from her bed, she made it to the bathroom just in time. When the nausea subsided, she leaned against the cast iron tub wondering if she should make an attempt to get back in bed or stay where she was, toilet at the ready. As nice as her newly remodeled bathroom with the vintage tile and original tub was, the idea of spending the day on her bathroom floor seemed pathetic.
Instead she forced herself to stand and made her way to the kitchen to make tea. While the weather outside was cold and dreary, inside her home was warm and cozy. Tess loved her home. The location couldn't be beat as it was within walking distance to the historic downtown area and her office.
Jefferson Tavern was founded in the 1700's and like many pre-revolutionary towns in Virginia, it preserved much of its architectural history. Tess' house wasn't as old, but the 1940's bungalow style home retained its original charm with its crown molding and arched doorways.
Buying the home a year ago had been a major milestone. She'd set out to rebuild her life and career, and her home was a symbol of her success in achieving both. The home had been in disarray when she bought it, but aside from the bathroom that needed a complete remodel, the rest of the home simply needed a good cleaning and a coat of paint to restore its beauty. Although Daniel called her home stark because it lacked photos and decorations, Tess felt the architecture of the home all the decor it needed. Besides, the only photos she had, she'd burned when she made her break from her old life.
She put a pinch of fish food in Buster's bowl, filled her tea kettle with water, and set it on the Wedgewood stove as she turned on the burner. Hopefully a cup of tea would settle her stomach and a couple of pain relievers would stop the pounding in her head.
"Feeling better?"
She wasn't sure if she was relieved or annoyed to discover Jack Valentine standing in her kitchen doorway. It took a minute for the previous night to come back to her. Asa was dead and Jack had camped out on her couch. Well camped wasn't the right word. He didn't look wrinkled or rumpled enough to have camped. Even the stubble from his ov
ernight growth of beard looked manicured. He could have stepped from the pages of GQ instead of her living room.
He leaned against the door frame looking way too comfortable in her home. “You don’t look better.”
“Thanks for sharing.”
He reached out to take her arm."Lay down. I'll make the tea."
"How about you leave?"
"You're not a morning person are you?"
Tess would have argued the point except that he was right. Even when she was feeling well and didn't have her past staring down at her, she wasn't a morning person. But she did feel bad and lying down seemed like a good idea. She let him lead her to the couch. He picked up the folded blanket from the back of the couch. Unfurling it, he laid it over her.
"How do you manage to be so well coiffed and perky?" she asked.
He gave her quick grin.
"Do you have any faults?"
"I don't take orders well." he said.
"Oh yeah. Why are you still here?"
"Let me get your tea. Do you want some toast too?"
She frowned. "No."
She could hear him in her kitchen. She would never admit it to him, but it was kind of nice to be waited on. Within a few minutes he returned with her tea. He sat on her coffee table as she maneuvered herself up to a sitting position.
"I didn't know chocolate tea existed," he said handing her the cup.
"I have to special order it."
“Does it taste as good as it smells?”
“You're welcome to make yourself some, since it appears you plan to stay awhile.”
“Nah,” he said with a wave of his hand, “I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome.”
She rolled her eyes and then turned her attention to her tea.
"How long have you been here, in this house?" he asked.
"About a year."
"It's a nice home. Good structure. Did you do the bathroom?"
"Yes." Tess found herself anxious to hear his assessment of her home. She told herself his opinion mattered only because she knew he had experience in home renovation.
"It looks great. You matched the original architecture of the home."
"I'm glad you like it."
"But where's your stuff?"
"Huh?" The pleased feeling dissipated. She scanned her living room. She had everything a living room needed. A couch, chair, coffee table. She even had one of her few indulgences in a chaise chair she loved to read in. What else did a living room need? "What stuff?"
"Where are your pictures and doo dads?”
“Doo dads? Did you just use the word doodads?”
“Yes, doo dads as in figurines, vases, framed pictures… you know things that decorate your living space and make a house a home.”
“One person’s doo dad is another person’s clutter." Tess handed her cup back to him and reclined on the couch.
“You definitely don’t have to worry about clutter.” He looked around her living room and then back to her. “You don’t have a single decorative item?”
“It really bothers you doesn’t it?”
“Yes it bothers me. You can learn a lot about people and the things they keep. You don’t keep anything.”
“I suppose that's good. I’d hate to be judged by the junk I collect.”
“I think having nothing reveals as much.”
Her eyes narrowed. What did he think? That she was empty? Lonely? Uncreative? What?
“Even hotel rooms have more decor," he continued.
"Oh for Pete's sake," Tess said throwing off the blanket and stalking towards the kitchen. She grabbed the small round bowl with a reddish blue fish swimming inside. "Here. Meet Buster. How's that for decor?" she said handing Jack the bowl. "Better?”
“Much better thank you.” There was that dumb dimple again.
"Thank goodness for that. Now if you'll excuse me…" She hurried out of the room with one hand over her mouth and the other over her stomach.
~~~~
She was sitting on the floor of her bathroom with her head propped against the side of the tub when he poked his head in.
"Tess. I'm sorry -"
"Maybe you could just go now."
He shook his head as he sat next to her on the floor. "Sorry. I'm sticking."
She groaned. How much worse could this get? Why wouldn't he leave? "Maybe you could wait in the living room then," she said as she felt a new wave of nausea hit her.
"Maybe." He pulled her unruly curls out of her face as she leaned over the bowl. "But I think I'll stay."
She was mortified and yet grateful at the same time. When the worst was over, he helped her to her bed.
"I'll get more tea," he said when she was settled.
She shook her head. "No. I give up. I'll just lay here and die."
His lips twitched. "Water then. You need to keep hydrated."
"I'll pass."
"What should I tell Deputy Dan when he shows up to check on you?"
She thought about correcting Jack by telling him Daniel was police not sheriff's department, but it was more work than it was worth. "Just wake me."
"Tess, now isn't the right time, but I think maybe I'll need your services after all." He sat on the edge of the bed, adjusting the blankets around her.
"It seems like whatever Asa had planned will be postponed," she said remembering their agreement from the previous night.
"Probably, but that's not why I'll need your help."
“You're not going to confess to murder are you? I don't think I can handle that right now.”
"I broke into his computer."
It took a moment for the meaning of his words to compute in her brain. “Wait. You are confessing-”
“I didn't murder him.”
“You did something and I'm not in the right frame of mind to represent you, so keep it to yourself.” It was difficult to hold her eyes open, so she closed them and willed sleep to take her away.
“I want you.”
“You had your chance,” murmured as she let the fog surround her consciousness.
She thought she heard him laugh. “I'm talking about wanting you to be my lawyer.”
Oh right. Tess gave her head a shake. She was going to embarrass herself even more if she didn't stay focused. She forced her eyes open. “What did you do?”
"I used Asa's computer and emailed some of the files on it to myself."
"Last night?"
Jack nodded.
Tess rolled her eyes and moaned. "That's not very smart."
He tensed. "I didn't murder him."
"I'm sure the police will believe you when they find your prints on his computer and track the email to you."
"Look, if I was going to kill him, I wouldn't have left my prints. I'm not stupid."
"The point is that he's dead and your prints are on his laptop. And you stole information from it."
"Asa didn't care."
"He caught you?"
"I wasn't being sneaky. I didn't care if he caught me or not."
Tess gaped at him. She didn't remember him being so audacious. "What did he say?"
"You know Asa. He laughed. He liked that he was getting a rise out of me.”
"What did you do?"
"I got mad. We argued."
A memory of two men arguing flashed in Tess' mind. Had it been Jack and Asa? If she heard them, someone else might have too. That would be another mark against him.
"The point is, I know the police are going to find the prints and trace the email. That's why I need your help."
She nodded. But she wasn't a defense lawyer anymore. And she wasn't feeling quite up to the challenge. "Maybe you should call one of your lawyers in D.C."
His eyes narrowed. "You won't help me?"
"I think you should get someone who specializes in criminal law."
"You worked for the public defender's office."
"You kept tabs on me?"
"Yes." He didn't look apologetic about it.
&
nbsp; "This requires focus and if you haven't noticed, I'm not at my full capacity."
"That's temporary. Look Tess, you were there last night. You have experience. And I trust you."
She tried to ignore the warm, gooey feeling his confession of trust gave her. "Virginia is a capital punishment state."
"I didn't kill him." He ran his fingers through his jet black hair. It was the first time she saw a crack in his composure. "Look. I know the police are going to view me as a person of interest. I need your help to make sure they don't overdo it."
She studied him, looking into the depths of his captivating eyes. Were they the eyes of a killer? She didn't think so, but how could she know for sure? They'd been close at one time, but that was three years ago. People could change. She had.
As if he knew what she was thinking he leaned closer to her. "I didn't kill him, Tess. You have to know it's true."
She wanted to be left alone. To go on with the new life she'd created that didn't include anything or anyone from her past. But he'd been a friend when she'd needed one once. "Everyone deserves a good defense."
He jerked back as if she slapped him. "What does that mean?"
"You asked me to help you and I will."
He stood and paced the small area next to her bed. She wondered if he was going to go with her suggestion and call another lawyer. But he stopped and stared down at her. "How can you help me if you don't believe me?"
"I didn't say I didn't believe you."
"But you aren't sure. How can you defend someone when you aren't sure?"
"First of all, not everyone who needs a defense lawyer is innocent. Even so, they deserve a fair trial."