by Julie Kenner
With one hand, he grabbed a towel, then moved to drape it over her. “Come back to bed with me?” he asked.
She nodded, following. Under the covers, she snuggled close, already drifting off. The woman was heaven in his arms. No way he could ever write something that conveyed how special she was.
She stirred against him, already dozing, her body pressed close even in sleep. He sighed. Damn her for wanting a life he didn’t want.
And damn himself for falling for her in the first place.
Jacey woke up to David’s arm around her. She snuggled close, feeling warm and safe and loved.
The loved part, of course, was an illusion. She knew that. They wanted different things and nothing real was going to develop between them, no matter how good they were in bed. And no matter how much her heart ached for this man.
Frustrated, she slipped out of bed, careful not to wake him. The world outside the window was painted silver, lit by a full moon, and she stepped out onto the patio, imagining the symphony of color that would emerge with the sunrise. She stood there a moment, feeling small and lonely, before going back inside and grabbing her cell phone. She didn’t feel too guilty. Tasha only left the phone on when she was awake. And considering Tasha’s addiction to really bad B movies, finding Tasha awake in the middle of the night was never too difficult.
She took one more look at David, his strength palpable even in sleep, before she stepped back outside, closing the door behind her.
“Hi,” she said, the second Tasha picked up.
“Oh my gosh,” Tasha said, her voice straining with excitement. “I was going to call you in the morning. I’ve been pacing around the house wanting to talk and wishing I could justify calling the hotel in the middle of the night. How’s San Diego? Find out anything?”
“Nothing about Al,” Jacey said. About her feelings for David? In that department she was having some intense moments of clarity.
She shook the thoughts off and gave Tasha the rundown on their lackluster investigation. “We’ll keep trying, but nothing so far.”
“Well, there’s nothing going on here from the police end,” Tasha said. “I haven’t heard a word about the creep you bonked in the apartment.” She paused. “But in other ways, there’s a lot more than nothing going on.” All of a sudden, Tasha’s voice was so sparkly that Jacey could imagine her half dancing around in the kitchen. “Guess.”
“You and Bob did the deed,” Jacey said.
“Nope,” Tasha said, sounding happier than Jacey would have assumed where a lack of orgasms was concerned.
“What then?” Jacey asked, not in the mood for guessing games.
“I finally confronted him.”
“No way!” Jacey leaned against the balcony, her problems momentarily forgotten. “What did you say?”
“I asked why he’d never made a move to sleep with me.”
“You need to learn not to beat around the bush,” Jacey said.
“Why should I? That’s what I wanted to know.”
“Okay. So what did he say?”
“He asked why I expected it so much and had I slept with my other boyfriends right away?”
Jacey scowled. “That sounds kinda rude.”
“I thought so, too. I thought maybe I was going to get some lecture about diseases or something. But I decided to just play along and so I said yes.”
“And?” Jacey twirled her hand, urging her friend along, even though Tasha couldn’t see the motion.
“And he kissed me and said that’s why.” Tasha sniffed, her voice cracking. “He wanted to be different from the other guys.”
“You’re crying?”
“Yeah,” Tasha said, then sniffed again.
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Tasha said, starting to really blubber. “But after he said that, he asked me to marry him.”
“Oh my gosh!” Jacey wiped her face, realizing she was crying, too. “You’re engaged. Oh, Tash, that’s wonderful.”
It was wonderful, but Jacey couldn’t help the little niggle of jealousy twisting away in her stomach. And as soon as Tasha hung up—promising to show off the ring as soon as possible—Jacey gave in to the jealousy bug and started bawling in earnest.
Tears streamed down her face and she wiped them away with the back of her hand, moving toward the one lounge chair the hotel had provided. She turned it to face the room, then sat down, her knees pulled up under her chin to ward off the ocean’s chill. The waves pounded below, punctuating her thoughts.
Sleeping with David had been a mistake. A wonderful mistake, true, but a mistake nonetheless. She wanted a man who was going to be there for her. Not just until they found some missing diamonds, but forever. A man who’d help fill up that attic she wanted. A man who wanted a home and a family as much as she did.
And unless he’d had a rather abrupt change of heart, David wasn’t that man.
She swallowed, watching him through the sliding glass door. Every moment she spent with him was making it that much harder to walk away. She’d suspected all along she couldn’t handle a one-night stand or even a multiple-night stand. But she’d let amazing sex—and an amazing man—cloud her judgment.
Now, though, she was just torturing herself.
And it was time to stop.
She loved him. Damn it all, she really, really loved him.
But if she couldn’t have him forever, she didn’t want to have him at all. Not again.
Not anymore.
Her heart just couldn’t take it.
David woke up when the bed moved. He peeled his eyes open, squinting from the desk lamp shining in his eyes. Jacey sat next to him, teetering on the edge of the mattress.
He scooted over to make her more room, then pulled the sheet back. “Come on in,” he said. “The water’s fine.”
She smiled, but didn’t move and there was a sadness in her eyes. Danger signals went off in David’s head. He knew that look—he’d seen that look on Susan’s face, only with Susan, he’d been secretly relieved. Seeing it now on Jacey just made his insides cringe.
He took her hand, hoping he was wrong. “No?” he said, trying to keep his voice light. “What’s the matter? Did we meet your quota?”
Her lips thinned and David wondered if maybe he hadn’t picked the best way to keep the conversation light.
“I can’t do this anymore,” she said. She stood up, both hands raking her hair away from her face, making it stand up like a fiery crown. “I thought I could and I love making love to you—really, I do—but I’m just not the kind of girl who can do this.”
She was pacing, moving back and forth as if she needed to move to keep in control. He slid out of bed and went to her, catching her as she headed back toward him. He gripped her by her shoulders and held tight. “Do what? What can’t you do?”
“This,” she said, gesturing between the two of them. Tears spilled from her eyes and he saw real pain there. “I can’t keep pretending this will turn into something real.”
“It’s something real to me,” he said, his throat tight.
She blinked, heavy tears hanging from her lashes. For a moment, their gazes locked. Then she looked away. “But is it permanent?” she whispered.
And there it was. The knife she was twisting in his heart. He took a deep breath, knowing he couldn’t be any more or less than the man he was, but not knowing if that was good enough for her. It sure as hell hadn’t been good enough for Susan.
He stroked her cheek, his heart near breaking when she looked at him, her green eyes wide and sad. “Sweetheart, that depends on you.”
“On me?” she asked.
“I want more than just a quick fling,” he said. “Hell, Jacey, I want you.”
Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but her happiness had a wary edge. “But?”
“No buts.” He moved to the patio door, looking out toward the waves crashing on the beach below.
“Is this a proposal?” Her whispered question
washed over him, taking hold of his heart and squeezing.
He took a deep breath, turning to face her. He wanted her. God help him, he did. But he had to be honest. He’d hidden himself from Susan, tried to play a role, and he’d hurt her. He wasn’t about to hurt Jacey, too. Not like that, anyway.
“I don’t want the house and I don’t want the kids. Maybe sometime, but not yet. And I don’t want a mortgage or an SUV. I want to travel. I want to write.” He looked her in the eye. “And if you want to come with me, then yeah. This is a proposal.”
Slowly, she pressed her fingers to her lips, her eyes wide. “Well,” she finally said. “I guess I was right.”
He blinked, not expecting that response. “About what?”
“There was a but.” Her eyes bore into his. “There’s always a but. So much for permanent. I love you, David. I really do. But I can’t do that. I can’t.”
Love. The word consumed him, urging him to make promises he knew he’d break. Enticing him to promise her he’d get the salary and he’d mow the lawn and he’d rip up his Eurail Pass. But he knew he wouldn’t do any of that and in the end, she’d walk away, just like Susan.
It was hard enough losing Jacey now, before he really had her. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing her once she really became his.
He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to find words to convince her that her insistence on tucking her life away with neat little hospital corners was going to cost them both the world. Dammit, he didn’t want to lose her just because she was being stubborn. “For Christ’s sake, Jace. Forget your plan. Come with me. Paint on the street in Paris. Sell your art in galleries in Nice. What the hell are you afraid of?”
“It’s so easy for you, isn’t it?” she asked, her eyes rimmed with red and her voice harsh.
“Jacey…”
“Isn’t it?”
He nodded; what the hell else could he do. “Yes. It is. Being myself is about as easy as it gets.”
“Lucky you,” she said. “It’s the hardest thing in the world for me.” Her eyes brimmed and a single tear spilled over. David’s gut wrenched and he held on tight to the back of the desk chair, forcing himself not to go to her and brush away the tear.
She took a deep breath, then met him head on, a hint of a smile dancing on her lips. “When we first met, I thought you were a jerk. I was wrong. You’re wonderful.”
His head swam, sucking in her words like nectar, but knowing that in the end they wouldn’t change anything. “If I’m so wonderful, then what’s the problem?”
“You’re you and I’m me. And I don’t want to live the way you do. I can’t do that. Not anymore.”
“You’re just scared,” he said. He wasn’t playing fair and he knew it. But he wanted to make her see. Wanted to convince her.
“Yes, I’m scared,” she said. “I’m almost thirty years old and I’m not anywhere close to getting the life I want. Or are you planning to use some of that advance money to buy a house with me?”
He shook his head.
“Well, there you go.” She crossed her arms. “How come I’m supposed to pick up and traipse around the world with you, but you’re not willing to compromise for me?”
“Because you’re not being you.”
“Excuse me?” she said, her voice icy.
“Dammit, Jacey. You’re an artist. Be an artist.”
Her lips pressed together in a thin line. “Fine. I will. We’ll buy a house, but we’ll convert the garage into a studio. And we can turn one of the bedrooms into an office for you. And four times a year we’ll travel someplace exotic like Tuscany with your typewriter and my sketchpad.” She propped a hand on her hip. “Sound reasonable? Because if it doesn’t, I don’t think you have the right to criticize.”
He didn’t say anything. She was right. Damn her, she was absolutely right.
“What?” she said, her voice rising. “Not jumping at the chance? I didn’t think so.”
“Jacey…”
She held up a hand. “No, don’t say anything. I’m sorry. I started this, but I didn’t want a scene. I knew what the ending would be even before I opened my mouth.” More tears trickled down her cheek, and she brushed them away. “Tomorrow when we get back to L.A., can we install the alarm system?”
He nodded, understanding the silent demand—do whatever was necessary to make it safe for Jacey to go home. To leave his apartment.
Hell, to leave him.
Chapter 14
“How did you know?” Mallory asked.
“It all came together when I remembered Giles’s voice. Your father’s penguin. And he’s got a hell of a way with a gun.”
I laid it all out for them. The bruise on Sarah’s face, Kenny’s reputation for being less than a gentleman, Big Sal’s death. And Colonel Stamp’s statement that his girls could take care of themselves.
Sarah had really disappeared, but after Mallory hired me, Kenny had gotten wild. He’d killed Big Sal and he’d roughed Sarah up. She’d feared for her life and exited stage left. By the time I saw the Colonel, he knew his little girl was back—but he also knew she was on the lam.
“You’re good, Mr. Monroe,” Mallory said. “But then, I know just how good you are.”
Her words zinged to my gut and I remembered one or two occasions where I’d have to say Mallory was pretty damn good herself.
“Why’d you call me off?” I asked, not quite ready to drop the subject.
“If you had kept looking for Sarah, Daddy would see to it you ended up dead.” Mallory shrugged. “He knew that sooner or later you’d realize that Sarah killed Kenny.”
I lit a Chesterfield and took a long, deep pull, then exhaled into the dim room. “So she did.”
“What are you going to do with me?” Sarah asked.
I shook my head. “Nothing to do. I’m off the case, remember?” Hell, the girl did the world a favor. One less Kenny Townsend taking up space.
I turned to Mallory. “Why all the trouble to make sure I didn’t snoop around? Why not just let Daddy take care of me?”
“What’s the matter, lover?” she asked, brushing up against me. “You’ve figured everything else out, but haven’t a clue about me? About us?”
The words coming from her lips were like music to my ears. “Sweetheart,” I said, pulling her close, “some things are just too good to be true.”
David’s fingers paused over the keyboard. He should be typing up his notes for the Al story, but somehow he kept returning to Monroe and Mallory, trying to give them a happy ending where he couldn’t manage one for himself.
From behind the bathroom door, he could hear the pounding of the shower and he imagined Jacey, naked under the water, her body slick and smooth. He wanted to go to her, wanted to hold her close and tell her he loved her even as much as he wanted to sink himself into her.
But he couldn’t. She’d made it perfectly clear that if she couldn’t have forever, she didn’t want right now.
And forever was something he couldn’t do. Not on her terms. Not when forever meant sacrificing who he was and what he wanted.
He’d played it right with Jacey, fixing the mistake he’d made with Susan. With Jacey, he’d laid it all out for her. The life he wanted, the life he needed. No misrepresentations, just truth.
And she’d said no. Just like Susan should have, so many years ago. Like Susan finally had, when she’d filed for divorce.
But with Susan, there wasn’t an ache. With Jacey, David felt like his heart had been shattered. And the pain was all the more raw because he knew she was making a mistake. The woman was an artist, not an accountant. She should see Paris. She should sketch the Spanish steppes. She should paint the colors of the rising sun reflecting on the cliffs of Dover.
And it frustrated the hell out of him that she was so damn obstinate she wouldn’t listen to him.
He half snorted. Jacey and obstinate. Why the hell should that surprise him?
The bathroom door opened and he realized w
ith a start that the shower had stopped. She stepped out, wrapped in a robe, a billow of steam surrounding her. “Hi,” she said, shifting her weight from one foot to another, an awkwardness developing between them that he hated, but didn’t know how to erase.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
“I’ve been better,” she said.
He just nodded.
“How are you?” she asked.
He shrugged. “The same.”
She twisted the tie of her robe in her hands. “So what do we do now?”
“We’re back to square one,” he said, referring to the case. Where he and Jacey were concerned, they’d already passed the finish line.
And that fact was burning a hole in his gut.
“I’ll try again,” Reggie said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as Al watched, trying to regroup after the useless trip to San Diego. Reggie didn’t want to attack with David around. But David or a lifeguard or half a dozen hotel guests were always around. “She’s got to be alone sometime.”
“There’s got to be a better plan,” Al said. They’d left San Diego when Jacey and David did and now they were back in Los Angeles, sitting in the car in front of David’s apartment.
“Yeah? Like what?” Reggie shot him a dirty look, but this time Al wasn’t cuffed to the side of the car. A definite improvement in status. Not only did he have his freedom, but Reggie was looking to him for marching orders. So far, so good.
Except that he didn’t have a clue how to answer Reggie’s question.
“We need to find out if she still has the original seats,” he said.
“No kidding,” Reggie said. “But where? They’re not in that little parking space she’s assigned.”
True enough. And that meant she either got rid of the original seats altogether—an option Al wasn’t interested in considering until he absolutely had to—or she had someplace else for her stuff.
He tossed the problem around in his head, thinking about the day he’d followed her. She’d hit every Starbucks in a three-mile radius. She’d gone to a newsstand. She’d bought paint. He perked up, remembering what she’d done next—she’d carried it into a neighbor’s garage. So maybe she stored her stuff there?