“Mr. Phelps found this in his spaghetti,” she informed me, hitching her chin toward the pearl earring that rested on her palm, smeared with Panzani Sauce and bits of chewed pasta. “He broke a tooth biting into it.”
“I ... I’m so terribly sorry,” I stammered, my mouth opening and closing like a fish. I turned to the fat middle-aged guy who was sitting at the table glaring up at me.
“So you’re the one who caused me all this trouble? What the hell were you thinking of, you careless little bitch? I could’ve choked and died because of that thing!”
“I’m so sorry, sir...”
“Sorry ain’t gonna pay my dental bill. You will, missy, you can bet your fine ass. See this?”
He peeled back his upper lip, showing a row of rare, yellowish teeth. Since several of them were chipped, I couldn’t tell whether or not he’d really broken one on Carrie’s earring, or if he’d just found himself an easy way to get his teeth fixed on someone else’s dime.
When I voiced that thought, his round face turned red, and he started shouting insults at me. After a sleepless night, my remorse faded quickly, and I started shouting back, horrified by the thought of having to pay his dental bills, when I wasn’t even sure I was the guilty one. I mean, yes, I’d obviously dropped the earring into the man’s food by accident, but there was no proof I was responsible for any of his chipped teeth.
By now, we’d attracted quite a crowd. When I saw Romano elbowing his way to see what the fuss was about, I knew I was sunk. He listened to the numerous versions of the story, then turned his face to me.
“My office, Miss Jackson.” Where had I heard that before?
I followed him, shoulders slumped. There was no way I would win this battle.
As he ushered me into a small room that smelled of cheap wine and garlic, he indicated I should sit on the chair facing his battered desk. A sense of déjà vu gripped me. He sat on the opposite chair and watched me thoughtfully, tugging at his lower lip.
“You know,” he began conversationally, “I usually have a sixth sense when it comes to people. It’s something every good businessman needs to have. I knew you were trouble the first time I laid eyes on you.” He pointed a finger at me. “You’re not like your sister, who flaunts her tail in every man’s face. You, Camilla, are a natural born screwup. Accident prone, they call it these days. You’re a disaster waiting to happen, a trouble bomb on legs, a klutz, a jinx. Take your pick.”
Despite my earlier display of haughtiness, my eyes stung and my lower lip quivered.
“I know it was my fault the earring ended up in his food, Mr. Romano, but I didn’t do it on purpose. You saw that guy’s teeth. He can’t prove I was to blame for any of the extensive damage in his mouth. Hell, he doesn’t have a single whole tooth. He can’t make me pay for something I’m not sure I did.”
“Are you deliberately missing the point?”
I had the grace to lower my eyes.
Romano watched me for another few moments, then he seemed to make up his mind.
“I’m going to do you a favor, Miss Jackson. I will pacify Mr. Phelps and convince him not to press charges against you. In exchange, you will get your things and get your ass out of my restaurant. Permanently. I’d rather lose a client than have you in here again. Do I make myself clear?”
Trembling with humiliation, I nodded and stood up. When I exited his office, two dozen pairs of eyes followed me to the kitchen. Phelps was still complaining, but I didn’t care anymore. I went to the back room and changed into my clothes, feeling both numb and disgusted with myself, with the world, with my life.
Carrie walked in. For the first time in my life, concern crossed her face.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, sure. Never been better.”
“Did he fire you?”
“Of course he fired me, Carrie,” I said, huffing out a breath that came from my toes. “Never mind. I’m sorry about your earring. I’ll buy you another pair after I rob a bank and buy some cyanide.”
She giggled. “For Mr. Phelps?”
“For me,” I snapped and walked out.
Chapter Eight
I stared at the melting ice cream inside the carton and traced designs on its creamy surface with my spoon. How long had I been sitting curled up on my living room couch feeling sorry for myself? A knock at the door startled me. I groaned. Carrie was here to collect her dress and mine. Would she try to console the klutz who’d blown yet another job? I wasn’t sure I was ready to leave my pity party yet.
“Come in, it’s open!” I shouted, burrowing deeper into the cushions in my attempt to hide from everyone, including myself.
The spoon fell from my hand clanging to the floor. Carter walked into my living room. He stopped in the doorway, an expression of concern on his handsome face.
“Can I come in?”
I sat up self-consciously running a hand through my tousled hair.
“Um, yes. How did you ... What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice hoarse from crying.
I’d wanted to see him again, but his timing couldn’t have been worse. In my current state, I wasn’t fit company for man or beast. I’d even avoided Fish.
He walked over to the couch. After a slight hesitation, he sat at my feet, looking at me.
“You weren’t at the restaurant when I stopped for lunch. Your sister told me what happened. I remembered the building from last night and the fact you’d said you were on the second floor, but yours isn’t the only apartment at this level. I asked her for your address so I could come and check on you. She said you were pretty bummed about losing your job.”
He paused, compassion mixed with amusement in his eyes. I shrugged and scrunched down lower.
“I’m fine. I’m dandy. In fact, I’m downright perfect,” I said, my voice heavy with sarcasm. I covered my brow and my weepy eyes with the back of my right hand and forearm. “Not everyone can claim to be the world’s biggest failure. Fredo made it very clear that the honor is mine.”
“You are not a failure,” he said emphatically. He reached out, moved my hand away from my face and brushed the hair off my forehead. “From what Carrie said, it was just an accident. It could have happened to anyone.”
“But it didn’t happen to anyone. It happened to me,” I pointed out, sitting up and burying my face in my hands once more. I inhaled deeply.
“Carter, it was very nice of you to stop by and make sure I hadn’t jumped out the window.” I thought I sounded reasonable once more.
“You live on the second floor,” he noted.
“Yeah ... If I wanted to kill myself, I would probably have to use someone else’s apartment and would screw that up, too. Thanks for coming by,” I continued, the words hurried, “but I really would like to be alone now.”
“Why?” He cocked his head to the right. “So you can go on crying over a few silly, unimportant accidents?”
“Well, those silly unimportant accidents have kept me busy for almost a week, a time during which I might add, I’ve earned zero dollars.”
I stopped myself. The last thing I wanted was Carter’s pity. I wasn’t in dire straits, at least not yet. My parents had given me a check when I’d stopped by earlier to bemoan my latest failure. It would cover another month’s rent and food, and was the only reason I hadn’t, in fact, jumped out the window—even though the worst I could’ve done was sprain an ankle.
Carter extended his arms and placed a hand on each of my shoulders, turning me to face him.
“Look, I can see this is really bothering you, but you can’t let a couple of bad experiences define you,” he said gently, his eyes warm. “Trust me, there are far worse things that can happen in life than losing two jobs in a few days.”
“Make that three jobs in less than a week,” I muttered and then looked up at him.
Damn. He wasn’t talking about work; he was referring to the loss of his wife. Suddenly, I was ashamed of my whining bitchiness. Didn’t I have a backbone? Worst of
all, I’d just reminded him of his own tragedy. When compared with that loss, my situation was laughable.
“You’re right, Carter. I’m sorry for being such a wimp. Thank you for coming here today,” I added truthfully. “I’ll find another job soon enough, hopefully one I won’t screw up. I appreciate your concern more than you’ll ever know. After all, we’re practically strangers. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“No, I don’t. But the hell of it is, I do.”
His eyes filled with confusion. As he looked at me, I could read an odd mix of tenderness, dismay, and a longing for something more that rivaled mine.
I raised my hand to stroke his cheek. It had the texture of fine grit sandpaper, attributable to the two-day scruff that felt incredibly sexy under my fingertips. As I explored his face, his eyes darkened. His gaze seemed fixed on each of my features in turn as if instead of seeing me blotchy, red-eyed, and red-nosed, he saw beauty. When his mouth descended over mine, I angled my head back to meet it.
His lips hovered over mine for a heartbeat before our mouths touched. He rubbed his lips against mine and I closed my eyes, sliding my hands around his neck. When his tongue slipped into my mouth, I abandoned myself to his kiss, lost in the arousal exploding inside me.
His hands wrapped around my waist and drew me closer to him. His taste was fresh and masculine, and maddeningly erotic. The kiss went on and on, each of us testing and tasting the other.
When we finally stopped to breathe, our gazes locked. His eyes mirrored the same dazed wonder I’d experienced. My fingers had clenched his hair and I loosened my grip, but didn’t let go.
“What was that?” I whispered, more shaken than I’d ever been.
“I don’t know,” he replied, his breath still ragged, “but let’s do it again.”
Our intense second kiss grew gentler with each stroke of our tongues. When we parted once more, Carter’s hand lifted to my face. Using his thumb, he caressed my damp lower lip, his eyes riveted on it.
“How can you say you’re a failure when you’ve succeeded where no one else has?” he asked, his voice little more than a husky whisper.
My heart fluttered with hope and excitement.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re the only one who’s managed to make me laugh. You make me want to live again. To be with you.”
I moistened my lips to gain time, not sure what to say, afraid to spoil this magic moment and discover I was only dreaming.
“Why me?”
He shook his head and smiled.
“I have no idea. It could be because you’re incredibly beautiful, dangerously funny, and too smart for your own good.”
I laughed softly, lowering my gaze. No one had ever accused me of being smart. Absently, I started to trace the inscription on his t-shirt with one finger, mesmerized by the way the white cotton stretched over his wide chest.
“Thank you. I can plead guilty to the dangerous part, but as for the rest ... I guess it’s a matter of perspective.”
“I’m serious. By the way, Carrie told me about all the legal mumbo jumbo you quoted today when that guy insisted you pay for his dental work. I was impressed.”
I snorted. “Most of that was just grandstanding. A lot of what goes on in court and before that is just bravado. The fancier you talk, the more chances you have to win. You know, baffle them with bullshit and dazzle them with innuendos. But, seriously, that guy’s mouth was a mess. It would be impossible to tell which tooth he chipped if he chipped any.”
He laughed. “I could use someone like you when I interview people and try to get them to come clean. I’ll bet you could intimidate them more into being honest than I do, especially since you do have a Law degree and years of experience working in a law office.”
I looked up at him quickly. “You’re saying that just to make me feel better.”
“Hell, no. I mean it. Actually, if you’re interested, I could ask my boss at the newspaper if he would hire you as a ... a consultant regarding legal matters. That sounds pompous enough, doesn’t it?” he said grinning.
I stared at him, my lips parted. “Are you serious?” I asked when my astonishment had subsided enough for me to speak.
“Definitely. We’ll have to wait a few days for him to get back from vacation. That is, unless you find a better job by then.”
I was stunned. Working with Carter every day? Doing something I was damn sure I would enjoy tremendously and might even be good at? How could anything be better than that?
Despite my attempt to curb my enthusiasm, I grinned
“I don’t know what to say, except that I would love that.”
“Then I promise to do my best to make it happen. I have to go now, but I’ll be in touch.”
He gave me a quick kiss and was out the door, leaving me gaping after him.
I spent the rest of the day puzzling over the enigma that was Carter Evans. I simply didn’t understand the man. First, he asks me out for drinks and doesn’t make a move toward me. Then he shows up at my door, kisses me until my ears ring, practically offers me a job, after which he vanishes without even asking for my phone number. How were we to get in touch? Did he want to get in touch? I prayed he hadn’t simply been stringing me along.
The doorbell rang, and I set aside the shirt I was ironing. Looking down at my pink pajama bottoms, I shook my head. If it was Carter again, I hadn’t had time to do much about my appearance, but then, he’d seen me looking worse.
A glance through the peephole revealed Carrie’s perfectly made up face. I opened the door and looked her up and down.
“Wow! Special occasion?” I asked, indicating her short, blue dress and killer sling-back shoes.
She held up a bottle of wine.
“Yep. Girls’ party. I’m here to get you drunk so you can spill all the nitty gritty details about the blond hunk.”
I couldn’t help laughing. Carrie and I having a girl to girl talk? This was an unprecedented occasion. Alcohol was highly recommended. As unexpected as this was, it might even be fun.
“I wish I had some nitty gritty details to dish,” I said, as she plopped down on the couch and slid off her shoes and wiggled her toes. She’d worked all day, so her feet had to be sore.
“You’re joking?” Her gray eyes grew rounder. “I gave the guy your address and everything. Don’t tell me he didn’t show up.”
“He did, but ... Hold on, I’ll get the corkscrew.”
I padded into the kitchen, made sure the iron had turned itself off, grabbed my chipped and rarely used corkscrew from a drawer, and two glasses. Then—what the hell—I reached for a box of chocolates from my emergency stash in the fridge, grabbed my last carton of ice cream, and took the last two clean spoons out of the drawer. I arranged everything on the coffee table and then sat next to Carrie once more.
“Soo?” She stretched the single syllable, reached for a chocolate, her gaze never leaving my face.
Uncorking the bottle, I poured the dark red wine and handed her a glass.
“Here’s the thing,” I tasted the wine. “Not bad.” I licked my lips. “I met this guy a few days ago in the park when I was jogging. I was lying on the grass, resting, and he thought I was having a heart attack. Once he made sure I was alive and well, he introduced himself. We shook hands, and he left.”
I sipped my wine, holding Carrie in suspense for a moment before continuing.
“His name is Carter Evans, and he’s a journalist. I saw one of his articles in the newspaper when I was looking for jobs ... I looked him up online.”
“And?”
“He was married.”
Cassie’s eyes bulged.
“But his wife died last Christmas in a horrible car crash,” I finished.
She momentarily looked taken aback.
“Poor guy ... But what the hell? Lucky for you!”
“Jesus, how can you be so insensitive?” I said, suddenly uncomfortable.
“I’m just being honest. Even if
you won’t admit it, I bet you thought the same thing. Maybe not in so many words...”
“I did not,” I lied, feeling worse than ever. “I saw her picture, Carrie. She was gorgeous and super-smart—a marine biologist. They looked so happy.” I gazed into my wine. “It’s as if he stopped living when she did. I can’t imagine how awful it was for him to lose her like that—and at Christmas.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t.” Her tone softened. “So how is he now? I mean, is he ready to move on?”
“I think he might be. The other day when we met at the restaurant, he remembered me and asked me if I wanted to go out for a drink. As you know, I did. It was wonderful spending time with him. He told me I was the first woman he’d asked out since his wife’s death. But when he drove me home, he ... I thought he wanted to kiss me, but he didn’t.”
“Oh ... So nothing happened?”
“Not then.”
Her disappointed pout turned into a grin as she faced me.
I bit my lower lip. “He kissed me today, right here on this couch,” I blurted out, too excited to hold it inside any longer. “Oh, my God! It was absolutely amazing. Twenty out of ten on the kiss meter. I wanted to rip off his clothes and jump him.”
“Why didn’t you?” she asked, genuinely dismayed as she reached out and popped a second chocolate into her mouth.
“Are you nuts? We barely know one another.”
“Yeah, there is that. Besides, you’ve been on the shelf so long you’re probably out of practice. How long has it been? A year? Since that Brad dude, right?”
I put a chocolate in my mouth and licked my fingers.
“Almost two years, thank you, and his name was Chad.”
“Right. He was the one who wanted to be a porn star?”
I choked, splattering wine all over my pajamas.
“Christ, I’d forgotten that! No, that genius was Connor, one of the guys I dated in high school. Every teenaged girl’s dream—young, dumb and full of cum. God, I remember when I invited him over for dinner and he started telling Dad about this project he and his classmates had started.”
Sacked! Page 8