The Complete Novels of the Lear Sister Trilogy

by Julia London

  “Shut up, Michael.”

  Nice, Jake thought. A lot of respect flowing between those two.

  “Oh Mia, I meant to tell you,” Robin quickly interjected. “Lucy was down on Gray Street the other day, and she said Lily’s is having a huge sale. I love that store!”

  “Me, too,” Mia said, perking up. “But what was Lucy doing there?” she asked and Jake thought the tone of her voice was a bit derisive—assuming, of course, he was accurately distinguishing this tone from her whine.

  “Just shopping.”

  Mia snorted. “You must pay her pretty well. You know, I really don’t like her very much.”

  “Lucy’s okay,” Slick said halfheartedly.

  Mia shrugged; Robin frowned at her friend. “What’s not to like about Lucy?”

  “I don’t know,” Mia said on a sigh. “She’s just . . . sort of pedestrian, you know what I mean?”

  “Pedestrian? God, Mia, that sounds so elitist.”

  “I don’t mean it to sound elitist, but you have to admit that there are differences.”

  “Do you mean in income?” Robin asked, clearly agitated. “Is that why you don’t like her? Because she doesn’t have as much money as you?”

  “No, of course not,” Mia responded with an irritable shake of her head. “I am talking more about how people like you and I have a different perspective of the world than people like her. I mean, we’ve traveled, we’ve been to lots of different places to shop or eat, or whatever . . . I just don’t see how it can’t create a difference.”

  “I know what she means,” Michael said, nodding. “It’s like, if you vacation in Paris and Lucy has never been to Paris, then it’s sort of hard to relate.”

  “So if Lucy vacations in Mexico, is it hard for me to relate?” Robin countered.

  “No, because you have traveled extensively. You have the ability to imagine.”

  “And Lucy doesn’t? God, that is so arrogant!”

  Those were Jake’s thoughts exactly. If he hadn’t heard the whole thing himself, he wouldn’t have believed it.

  “Whatever,” Mia said petulantly. “And it’s really not even that. I just don’t much care for her.”

  “Maybe I should fire her,” Robin shot back.

  Mia laughed. “Would you?”

  Robin turned away again to stare out the cabin windows at the harbor water.

  “What do you think, Jake?” Slick asked.

  Jake looked up, fixed him with a piercing glare. “Think about what?”

  “Whether or not there are differences between people who have been accustomed to a life of privilege and those who have not.”

  “Don’t, Evan,” Robin said low.

  But Jake didn’t need or want Robin to stand up for him. “You want to know what I think? I think this conversation is ludicrous,” he drawled, gaining everyone’s attention. “If you want to believe yourself better than someone else because of a lot of travel or shopping, that’s your deal. I prefer to choose my friends based on their character, not their income.”

  Slick’s laugh rang false. He put down the martini glass, pushed it to the bartender for a refill without even looking at him. “That’s awfully noble of you, making all your friends based on their character.” He looked pointedly at Robin.

  “When is dinner, Evan?” Robin sighed. “Jake and I need to get back soon.”

  “We can start whenever you are ready, princess.”

  The term of endearment cut through Jake like a knife, conjuring up unwanted images of Robin and Evan together.

  “I’m ready if everyone else is,” she said and walked to where Jake was standing, slipped her hand into his, and gave him a little tug so that he would join her at the table. Jake had the presence of mind to hold the chair out for her, but he was, again, the only one. Mia flopped down like a fish onto her chair. Michael sat as far away from her as he could get.

  Slick turned to the bartender. “Let Drake know that we have one more guest than we thought,” he announced loudly. “We’ll need another place setting if he can dig one up.”

  Bastard. Jake took the seat next to Robin, the one with no place setting, and banged his beer down on the table. That earned him nothing but an amused smile from Slick as another man in white shirt and black bow tie came scurrying out of a door on the far end of the room, carrying a stack of plates, linens, and silver. He quickly and artfully set the place in front of Jake.

  As he hurried out again, Robin looked at Slick. “By the way, thanks for sending the files over,” she said.

  “Ah . . . did they help?”

  “Sort of. But I noticed you had done a lot of the same work I had done.”

  “Yes.” He lifted his martini glass and sipped delicately.

  “I was wondering why.”

  “Why? Well, I suppose because I have done that sort of thing before and you haven’t.”

  “Yes, but you told me how to do it and I have been sending you all my analysis. It just seemed like a lot of work for you to duplicate,” she said as a man and woman appeared, each carrying a tray laden with silver-domed dishes.

  “Don’t worry, Robbie. We’re using your figures,” he said dismissively and smiled an oily little smile. “I hope you have an appetite, Jake.”

  Could the guy be any more condescending? Jake was irritated for Robin, but whatever she thought, he couldn’t tell. She just dropped it altogether as the woman leaned over her shoulder and asked, “Haut-Médoc? Or Margaux?”

  Robin looked at the two wine bottles she held. “What is the vintage of the Margaux?”

  “La tou de Mons, 1991.”

  “Thank you, I’ll have that,” Robin said. The waitress poured the wine then looked at Jake.

  He might be a novice at this, but he was no fool. “The same.”

  “Are you a wine connoisseur, Jake? I thought you were a beer drinker,” Slick remarked.

  “I am a beer drinker,” Jake said flatly.

  “I can’t drink beer,” Mia said, and Jake figured that she couldn’t do much of anything without whining about it.

  The man paused on Jake’s left, leaned over with a tray, and with his middle finger, pointed to one of two dishes. “Grilled shrimp with celery roots and remoulade, or asparagus and crab veloute soup?” he asked.

  “Shrimp,” Jake said gruffly, only to be dismayed that there were only four on the plate.

  “And for your salad, sir, a brie and goat cheese empanada with champagne vinaigrette, or vine ripe tomatoes and mozzarella in basalmic vinaigrette?”

  God, what he wouldn’t give for a hamburger! “Tomatoes and cheese.”

  “And lastly, sir, for you entrée: baked Atlantic salmon and lump crab in a bernaise sauce, tenderloin of beef with polenta and a port wine reduction, or lobster tail with beurre blanc?”

  He figured the beef was as close to a hamburger as he was going to get in this crowd. “The beef.”

  “Really, Jake, you can get beef anywhere,” Slick chimed in. “Why not try the lobster?”

  Jake pinned him with a cold stare. “I’ll take the beef, thank you.”

  Slick shrugged, turned back to his soup. “Suit yourself.”

  Yes, Jake thought, he would do just that, and spent the rest of the meal concentrating on using the right implement as the conversation turned to some little jaunt the four of them had taken to Vancouver one weekend. No doubt in the Lear jet, he thought miserably, wondering at the cost of that little excursion. He refused to let his imagination wander any further than that.

  When dinner was served, Jake was too perturbed by the tiny little piece of beef to be interested in what they were saying, which had something to do with a mutual fund Slick thought was hot, and drifted in and out. He declined the port that was served with dessert, even though the Slickster insisted it was vintage, which he seemed to think should make a difference. Jake asked for another beer just to piss him off.

  When the meal was (thankfully) over, and Robin excused herself and headed for the powder
room, Jake got up and went outside for some air. It wasn’t long before Slick joined him, with his hands shoved deep in his fag pants, staring up at the moon. “Beautiful out here on the water, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” Jake drawled. “So do you actually take this thing out, or do you just dine on it?”

  Slick glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “I take it out.”

  “Huh.”

  “So . . . you’ve been seeing Robin, is that it?” Clownpants asked, like Jake was going to subject himself to any questions on that front. And then he chuckled snidely at Jake’s silence. “Let me give you a piece of advice, Jake. Robbie goes through men like water. I wouldn’t get too comfortable if I were you.”

  Bastard. Asshole. “Do me a favor and keep your advice to yourself.”

  “Yeah, sure, I’ll do that. But I guess you know her old man has cancer.”

  It was more of a statement than a question, and Jake responded nonchalantly, “So I’ve heard.”

  The asshole turned so that he was facing Jake. “Of course you’ve heard. That’s why you’re hanging around, isn’t it?”

  That implication caught Jake completely off guard. He slowly squared off in front of Slick, straightening to his full height, a good three inches taller than Weasel. “You’re Robin’s colleague, so I am going to give you the benefit of the doubt and pretend you aren’t implying what I think you are implying,” he said evenly.

  Slick shrugged, looked out at the water for a minute. “I don’t know if I am implying anything. But I am making an observation that it seems awfully coincidental to me that some handyman managed to get in Robin’s pants about the time she found out her dad was dying. She’ll probably inherit a huge fortune, won’t she?”

  Jake’s reaction was pure instinct; he took a step forward, clenching his fists to keep from hitting the fool, backing him up against the rail.

  “What’s the matter? Truth hurt a little?” Slick asked and braced himself for the blow that was sure to come.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Robin thought the evening already sucked, but this took the cake. She stepped in front of Jake before he could do something awful, like punch Evan, which is exactly what he appeared about to do. “What are you doing?” she cried, pushing hard against his chest.

  “Oh good, a fight,” Mia drawled behind her. “What did we miss?”

  Must have been something good—Robin had never seen such fire as she saw in Jake’s eyes, blazing down at her that very moment. His jaw was clenched as tight as his fist. “Let’s get out of here,” he said sharply and promptly turned on his heel, striding for the little gangplank.

  “Yes, let’s,” Robin said, bewildered, but turned around to Evan, who straightened his shirt as he watched Jake stride away. “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “Oh yeah, I’m fine,” Evan said. “But I’m worried about you. The man has a temper.”

  “What happened?”

  “Robin!” Jake bellowed from the yacht’s gangplank.

  Evan ignored him, smiled down at Robin. “A little too much testosterone, that’s all. Do you want a ride? Let us give you a ride home. You don’t need to go with him.”

  “No,” she said instantly and stepped back. She did not fear Jake and never would. He would never touch so much as a hair on her head.

  “I don’t know, Rob,” Mia said, glancing over her shoulder at Jake. “He seems sort of rough.”

  Which was precisely what made him so sexy. “I’ll be fine!” she said angrily and turned away from her friends, walking to where Jake was impatiently waiting.

  “I want off this tin bucket,” he said low, and grabbed her hand, pulled her along, down the gangplank. But once they were on terra firma again, Robin yanked her hand from his grip.

  His head jerked around; his brown eyes, still blazing, burned a hole right through her.

  “What in the hell happened back there?” she demanded.

  “Give me the keys.”

  “No—”

  “Give me the fucking keys, Robin.”

  His voice was so low and cool that it left her speechless. After a moment’s hesitation, she handed him the keys. He walked around the passenger side of the car, opened the door for her, motioned for her to hurry along. Once she was inside, he got in behind the wheel, and with his jaw clenched tight, revved the engine. They backed out on a squeal of rubber and exited the parking lot in much the same way.

  They rocketed out on to the Gulf highway. Jake stared straight ahead. His expression sent a bit of a chill down Robin’s spine, but she was too angry to let it go. “What in God’s name were you doing? You almost hit him!” she demanded, folding her arms defensively across her middle.

  “He’s an asshole.”

  “He’s not an asshole!”

  “Don’t, “Jake said, sparing her a very icy glance. “Don’t defend him.”

  “Should I be defending you?”

  “Just thank your lucky stars you stepped in when you did or I might have killed him.”

  “What did he say or do that was so horrible?”

  Jake said nothing, just clenched his jaw tighter.

  “Jesus, Jake, I want to understand, but right now, all my friends think you are some kind of fiend—”

  “Your friends, as you call them, treated me like dirt all night.”

  “No, you don’t understand—”

  “That boy of yours was trying to bait me, Robin.”

  She couldn’t deny that; it was obvious to her that Evan was jealous of Jake. “You have to understand, he’s got an ego.”

  “And I don’t?” Jake all but shouted. “He’s an arrogant prick and a fucking coward!”

  “Well, at least he’s not a bully, forcing people to his way of thinking with the threat of his fist,” she snapped. “What did he say, anyway?”

  “You want to know? You want to know what that prick implied? That I was seeing you because your father was dying.”

  Robin gasped.

  Jake careened around a corner, then punched it.

  Clearly, he had misunderstood, Robin thought. Yes, of course he’d misunderstood. There was no way Evan would have said such a thing. She knew him. “Is it possible you misunderstood—”

  “I didn’t misunderstand a damn thing.”

  “Well, even if he did, which he didn’t, does that give you the right to hit him?”

  “It damn near gives me the right to kill him. I won’t stand for any man disrespecting me.”

  Oh great, it was a testosterone thing—Robin groaned with exasperation. “Could you try and give him the benefit of the doubt?”

  “Why?” he roared. “Why do you insist on defending him?”

  “Because he is my friend! They’re all my friends!” she shouted back at him.

  A red light flashed before them and Jake slammed his hand into the steering wheel at the same moment he slammed his foot into the brakes. They went screeching up the intersection, bouncing back with the force of the stop. Robin braced herself against the dash and slowly turned to look at him. “Calm down.”

  Jake laughed, shook his head. “I’m calm, baby. I’m real calm. I’m too numb to be anything else, because for the life of me, I can’t figure out why someone as special as you would have friends as shallow as that.”

  That silenced her. Not because she felt indignant, but because she didn’t know why.

  When they got to her house—at a reasonable speed—Jake didn’t say much other than good night, tossed her the keys, and walked purposefully to his motorcycle, taking off without even a glance backward.

  Robin watched him disappear before wandering inside. She dropped her things on the dining table, made her way to the back terrace. There was a soft breeze blowing across the lawn, making the herd of pink flamingos bounce a little. She lowered herself into a lounge chair, pondering the evening.

  Jake was right. Evan had been horrible, the jealousy practically oozing from him. And Mia, well, Mia had been a snob as long as Ro
bin could remember. At the same time, while she could see Evan and Mia’s faults as Jake saw them, she could also understand them. She could understand how they viewed the world because it was the same way she had viewed the world up until a few short months ago, and now . . . well, now, she was seeing things a little differently. She was seeing the world through Jake’s eyes.

  And she was beginning to really despise what she saw.

  Which is why she changed into cutoffs and a T-shirt and drove to the Heights. When she pulled up into Jake’s drive, she could see the flicker of a light deep in the back of the house. She tiptoed up the steps, rang the doorbell. After a moment, she could hear movement. A second later, the porch light flicked on, blinding her as the door swung open.

  Bare-chested, barefoot, and wearing jeans that rode low on his hips, Jake stepped up to the door frame and leaned against it, one arm draped across his hard belly, the other loosely holding a beer bottle, the barbed wire tattoo around his bicep stark against his skin.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hi.”

  “Can I come in?”

  Jake inhaled deeply and released it slowly as he stood behind the screen, taking her in. “Don’t know if I should,” he said at last. “I think maybe I should send you back to your little group so you can sit around and laugh at the rest of the world with them.”

  Ouch. “Come on, Jake, you know I’m not like that—”

  “Oh yeah? Does Burdette ring any bells?”

  Ouch again. “Okay, that’s fair. But I’ve changed—and before you list all my faults, let me please say I am sorry. I shouldn’t have put you in that situation.”

  “Why? Because I don’t belong with your rich and snooty pals?”

  “No, because Evan was an ass,” she said.

  “Is,” he said, his voice softer.

  “Is.” Robin sighed. “Come on, Jake. Let me in, please?”

  He shoved a hand through his hair and released another long sigh. “I don’t know, Robin. I’m not sure about things anymore.”

  That sent a shot of panic right up her spine. “You should let me in,” she said, nervously tracing a line across the screen door, “because I owe you an apology for not seeing your side of it.”