Have Me

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Have Me Page 9

by Jo Leigh


  The man sitting next to Jake’s father raised his walkie-talkie to his mouth. “Jake.”

  “Yeah, Pete?” came the reply a few seconds later.

  “Your friend is here.”

  “I’ll be right out.”

  God, how they were staring. She felt a blush on her cheeks that made her even warmer. “I’m Rebecca Thorpe,” she said. “I was in the neighborhood, and Jake said it was all right if I came by.”

  “You come to this neighborhood often?” This from the biggest of the three, the one who had to twist around to see her. He had phenomenally bushy eyebrows.

  “No. Never before today. It’s a great street.”

  “We like it,” Jake’s father said, and it looked as if he was about to say more when the front door opened.

  Jake wore jeans and a plaid flannel shirt, both looking as if they’d been with him a long time. She closed her hand into a fist to fight the urge to touch him, even though he was standing all the way across the porch. The tool belt hanging on his hips seemed a little newer than his clothes and the ensemble was surprisingly sexy. She couldn’t hold back her grin, and neither, it seemed, could he. “You found it.”

  “I did.”

  “Gio give you any trouble?”

  “Nope. But he also wouldn’t tell me what kind of pizzas he was sending. I hope I didn’t just get two pineapple and ham pies because that would be—”

  “A travesty,” he said, interrupting. “No. No pineapples have ever touched a pizza in this house.”

  “Okay, then. I guess I’ll stay for a bit.”

  “Good.”

  Jake’s father coughed. Loudly, and completely fake.

  His son startled at the sound, as if he’d forgotten the old men were there. “Everybody, this is Rebecca. Thorpe.”

  “We know,” his dad said.

  “Ah. Recognized her, huh?”

  “No, she had the manners God gave a child of five and introduced herself.”

  Jake, in the manner of kids from every walk of life, rolled his eyes. “Rebecca, I’d like you to meet my father, Mike Donnelly, the emperor of Howard Street. To his left is family friend and classic car enthusiast Pete Baskin. The third gentleman is also an old family friend, Liam O’Hara. If you need any information about any of the Die Hard movies, he’s your man.”

  “It’s lovely to meet all of you, and I hope I haven’t disturbed your game too much.”

  “Liam’s cheating, anyway,” Pete said at the exact same time Mike said, “Pete’s cheating.”

  No one but Rebecca seemed to be surprised, but it made her laugh.

  “Who’s up for something to drink?” Jake asked. “The pizza should be arriving any minute.”

  Pete and Liam wanted beer, Mike coffee.

  Jake held out his arm, inviting Rebecca into the house.

  “Don’t you hide her away in there, Jakey. We’ll be wanting to talk to this beautiful young lady.”

  “Yes, Dad. I promise not to let her make a clean getaway.”

  “Hey, Rebecca,” Pete said. “How many cops does it take to throw a man down the stairs?”

  Jake groaned as all three men at the table smiled broadly, their wrinkles framing their grins like theater curtains.

  “I don’t know. How many?”

  Pete laughed even before he said, “None. He fell.”

  The old men laughed. Hard. Full of wheezes and a couple of hiccups, it was impossible not to laugh with them. When she got a load of Jake’s grimace, it all became funnier.

  As she passed Jake and entered the house there was no doubt she was not a native of this strange land, but a visitor on a guest pass.

  The hallway was short, a little dark and had no photographs or flowers, only a place to hang coats and another to stash boots. Jake helped her off with her big wool monstrosity and hung it up, but he didn’t ask her to remove her boots.

  The front room was old-fashioned with a wooden fireplace, flowered wallpaper and a staircase leading to the second floor. There was a very nice hardwood floor. The furniture looked cozy with tables close at hand for cups or magazines. No TV though, but that mystery was cleared up when she was escorted into the living room. But before she could look around, Jake stepped close and pulled her into a kiss that went from welcome to “hi, there” in thirty seconds.

  The flannel felt wonderful beneath her hands, or maybe that was knowing it was Jake she was touching. Unable to resist, she explored his manly tool belt and copped a grab of his ass for good measure.

  He laughed as he kissed her, which was one heck of a nice thing.

  When she drew back, she found his gaze, those blue eyes doing strange and wondrous things to her body. “I never just show up,” she said. “Never. My entire family, including all my ancestors, are appalled. It’s the height of rudeness.”

  “Boy, are you not from this neighborhood. No one calls ahead. They just barge the hell in, no matter what. It’s a pain in the ass.”

  “It’s a community.”

  “That, too.”

  “So it’s all right that I’m here?” she asked even though she knew he would say yes no matter what.

  “It’s fantastic. And a surprise. I’ve been trying to figure out why since you called.”

  “Ah, that.” She parted from him, took a look around. There was the big screen awkwardly hung half over very unique flowered wallpaper and half over the tallest wainscoting she’d ever seen. There was perhaps a foot of wallpaper showing, and the rest was green-and-white-striped wood with a small shelf thing running above the wainscoting across the length of the room. Here, too, were more comfy couches, two big recliners, more tables, but what really caught her interest were the photographs.

  They were on every wall, on every tabletop. She started on the far wall over a console table. There was Jake as a kid, a little kid with a new bike complete with training wheels, smiling like he’d won the grandest prize of all. And there was his father, a young man standing proud in his NYPD uniform.

  Her gaze stopped at an elegant picture of a woman with her dark hair in an updo, her makeup a little dated, but still tasteful, and Jake’s eyes. That same blue, arresting, with dark, thick lashes Rebecca doubted were fake. She had a smile that was a little shy, but sweet, and there was a glow about her, as if she was looking at someone very special when the photographer had snapped the picture.

  “She was a knockout,” Jake said. “Oh, man, was my old man proud of her. He loved to take her dancing. There was a place in Park Slope that was an old-fashioned ballroom joint. No live orchestra, but they went there a lot. They were too young to be dancing like that, teased by all their friends, but they could dance. They won contests. Not a lot, nothing major. Didn’t matter, that’s not why they went.”

  “How long has she been gone?”

  “Twelve years.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Jake inhaled. “Me, too. She was a good mom. A little crazy. She liked to experiment with dinner. She sucked at that.”

  Rebecca laughed quietly as she put the picture back down. “Is there one of you in your uniform?”

  He nodded, took her hand. They walked across the broad living room. It had the same hardwood flooring, but there was a big area rug in the center, deep green, which went with the wallpaper and the stripes. At the other end sat a bookcase, the lower shelves crammed with books. The upper two shelves had a few trinkets: a fancy candle, what looked like a music box, a set of those nesting dolls. And one large photograph in a silver frame of a much-younger Jake. His uniform was slightly different from his father’s, but she couldn’t have pinpointed how. The pride that came through in his posture and his eyes was identical.

  “Oh, my,” she said, “what is it about a man in uniform?”

  “Depends on the man. I’ve known some butt-ugly cops.”

  She tugged him close. “Something tells me you had to fight them off with a stick wearing that NYPD blue.”

  “Hey, it wasn’t the uniform.”

  “
No.” She looked at him squarely. “I’m sure it was your modesty.”

  “You’re a riot.”

  She tilted her head toward the door. “If I’m not mistaken, dinner has arrived.”

  “I hope you like soy bacon and tofu and no tomato sauce.”

  “Ha.”

  The look he gave her made her worry that he wasn’t kidding, but not for long. Not that he didn’t try, but his eyes couldn’t hide the smile that only teased his lips. Then he kissed her, slow and lush, until she forgot to be worried at all, and when he was through, he led her back to the Gang of Three.

  THE PIZZA BOXES WERE EMPTY except for several discarded crusts courtesy of Liam, lying open on the coffee table in the living room. Jake’s father was in his wheelchair, Liam and Pete were in the recliners and Rebecca sat on the couch next to Jake. They weren’t pressed together, but they were close enough for their hands to brush. Every time that happened, a pulse of excitement surged through his body, particularly behind his fly. It wasn’t critical—he wasn’t seventeen any longer—but it made him hyperaware of her.

  Even above the odor of pizza and pepperoni and garlic and onion, he had identified her scent. She wasn’t one of those women who changed perfume as often as clothes, and for that he was grateful. This scent, something he couldn’t name or even categorize, had made an impact. If he didn’t see her for ten years, he’d still know it was her.

  That was the good part. The bad part was that Mike had started telling stories. Embarrassing stories. Of Jake’s childhood. Jake had given his father the glare of a lifetime, but no. Mike, the old bastard, was undaunted and unafraid. The first two had been uncomfortable, but they were kind of typical—peeing his pants at four, breaking an incredibly expensive vase at the police captain’s house when Jake was seven. But this one…

  “…he had one hell of a lisp,” he father said, already laughing. What’s worse, Pete and Liam were laughing just as hard, and Rebecca, caught up in the moment, grinned at him as if it was all fun and games.

  “Shut up, old man,” Jake said. “It’s not even funny.”

  “It’s goddamn adorable, Jakey, so sit back and take it like a man.”

  Jake groaned, dropped his head in his hands. The only question was whether he should leave or stay. Staying meant utter humiliation. Running was cowardly, and he was still trying to impress the woman he wasn’t supposed to be dating.

  “So one day, my wife gets a call from his teacher. He’s in second grade, mind you. Six.” His dad had to pause for a minute to wipe his thumb under his eyes. “At first, see, my wife was worried. That his teacher was crying, she sounded so weird on the phone. But then, see, it turns out she was laughing.”

  “Oh, God,” Liam said. “This kills me. Every fucking time.” His eyes widened as he turned to Rebecca. “Excuse my language. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right,” she said. “I’ve heard the word before.” Then she brushed Jake’s hand as she leaned forward. “I’ve even said it a few times.”

  Liam nodded at her, then went back to staring at the storyteller, the father who had no concern whatsoever for his only child, the man who was single-handedly driving away any chance for a relationship with Rebecca.

  “So she was laughing,” his dad continued, “hard. Because my boy, my beautiful son, had been eaten alive by mosquitoes the night before. He was a mess, I gotta say, it wasn’t pretty. But right in the middle of class, and remember this was a Catholic school and his teacher was a nun, so right in the middle, Jakey here stands up and yells, ‘Thister, thethe methquito biteth are a pain in my ath.’” Mike had to stop and laugh for a while, and he wasn’t alone. “So the sister says, ‘What did you say?’ and Jake just yells it again. The sister was calling my wife to tell her Jake had to go to the doctor because he had a pretty bad allergy, but damn, that story. It went all over the neighborhood like wildfire, and to this day, we can be walking down the block, and someone will yell out, ‘Thethe methquito biteth are a pain in my ath!’”

  Jake sighed, waiting for this hell to be over. Knowing that if he was really lucky, and he did get to see Rebecca again, she was going to bring up the lisp. No one could seem to help it.

  Of course she laughed. Why wouldn’t she? It was a riot. It wasn’t his fault he hadn’t had any front teeth. He was only in second grade, for God’s sake, and weren’t nuns supposed to be caring? Gentle? Twenty-nine years later, and he still kept hearing about the goddamn methquitoes.

  Rebecca turned to Jake and held his face between her hands and kissed him, sitting right there on the living room couch. “It must have been awful,” she said. “But so adorable I can’t even…”

  “Adorable. Just what a man wants to hear.”

  “You should want to,” she said, keeping her voice low, as private as possible. “Because it’s a wonderful thing. I’m so glad I came.”

  “Could have done without the show-and-tell.”

  She let him go, but didn’t sit back. “That was the betht part.”

  Behind her, with laughter still lingering, Liam stood and started putting away the empty boxes. Rebecca noticed, then squeezed Jake’s hand. “Walk me outside?”

  “Walk you to 5th, you mean. Unless you want to call a cab from here.”

  “No, a walk would be good after all that pizza.”

  He stood back as she said her goodbyes, and he wasn’t quite as bothered by the story being told. Of course, he’d get his revenge as soon as possible, but for tonight, it was fine. And wasn’t she something as she spoke to his old man, touching his shoulder, getting personal. Jake didn’t hear what she said, but he saw his father’s face. Her visit made things more complicated, but that wasn’t so horrible either. At least for now.

  By the time he’d helped her on with her coat, Liam and Pete had helped Mike upstairs so Jake was able to leave comfortably. The two men would stick around until he got back. Now, though, he put on his own coat and went outside into the cold night.

  They were quiet for a while, walking, her hand in his. It felt a little weird to have had such a domestic night when he’d never imagined her that way.

  “I hope it wasn’t too weird for you, me being there,” she said.

  “Interesting. Good interesting,” he added, quickly. “I didn’t expect…”

  “I know. Me neither. I actually came here to ask you something.”

  “Okay.”

  “You know that dinner I’ve been bitching about?”

  “Yep. Wednesday night, right?”

  “Yes.” She paused walking, faced him. “I wondered if you might like to come. As my date. But it’s okay if you don’t want to. It’s black tie, and you know the kind of people who are going to be there, and it might turn out to be the most boring night of your life. Although my cousin Charlie and his girlfriend, Bree, will be there, and the food will be fantastic, but honestly, you don’t have to say yes—”

  “Yes,” he said. “I’d love to come as your date.”

  “Really?”

  Her wide dark eyes stared up at him with surprise, and he couldn’t be sure but he thought she might be blushing.

  “Really. It would be my honor. Where and when?”

  She let out a big sigh, then grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down into a kiss that should have waited for a much more private venue. He didn’t mind.

  9

  OF ALL THE SKILLS REBECCA had learned from her parents, the ability to appear calm in virtually any circumstance was one of the most useful. It hadn’t come easily, but over the years she’d found that she could separate her inner landscape from the outer facade. As she stood in the middle of the banquet room at the Four Seasons, those boundaries were being stretched to the limit.

  It was early yet, with only staff in attendance, and the room buzzed with a controlled chaos. What had Rebecca sweating wasn’t the catering or the orchestra or even the extravagant floral arrangements still being fussed with, but her own ability to let the people she’d hired do their jobs without her
overseeing every last detail.

  And Jake.

  He hadn’t arrived; it was two hours before anyone was expected. Dani was here, and the catering manager and one of the staff concierges and many, many hands to make sure every place setting was meticulous, that the food was superb in freshness, flavor and eye appeal. She had already checked into the room she’d booked for the night. If she had a lick of sense, she’d go upstairs immediately, lie down for at least twenty minutes, then begin her personal preparation. Dani was also going to use the room to change clothes so Rebecca’s window of opportunity for a short nap was closing.

  “Go. Everything’s fine,” Dani said, which illustrated perfectly the need for her to get the hell out of there.

  Rebecca glanced around, still hesitating.

  Dani, dressed in black pants, a striped shirt and low heels, crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re making everyone nuts. If anything’s going to crash and burn it’ll be because we’re all trying to impress you.”

  “Oh.” Rebecca gave it a minute’s thought and could see the point. “Fine. I’ll rest. But I’m going to have my cell in my hand so call me if anything happens. I mean anything.”

  Dani’s only response was to cross her heart, then stare pointedly at the door.

  Rebecca took her leave and while she was certain she’d be unable to think of a thing besides the enormous checklist for the dinner, once she stepped into the elevator, it was Jake. All Jake.

  She hadn’t asked him about his tux, because that would have been unbearably awful, but she’d worried about it. Then she’d worried about worrying. He was altogether a difficult issue for her. Ever since her conversation with Bree and Charlie, Rebecca had played over every motive, every wish, every daydream she’d had in the short time she’d known Jake. Since she’d visited his home, her confusion had worsened. Yet hearing his voice instantly stifled her qualms, making it crystal clear how much she liked him. All the same, an hour later she was chock-full of self-doubt and second-guessing.

 

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