Careless Rapture

by Dara Girard

  “Uh, thank you,” she said, uncertain.

  Suddenly his face crumbled. “Her parents won’t give me the money for a few years. I’ll have to put my career on hold. Oh, Jackie.” He drew her close, then burst into tears. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  Stunned, she tried to pull away. “Get a hold of yourself.”

  “Oh, god.” He sniffed. “I’ve just made the biggest mistake of my life.”

  She opened her purse and handed him a tissue. “No, you haven’t.”

  “I have,” he said in a gloomy tone. “Perhaps I invited you here hoping you would somehow stop me or force me to stop myself. What am I going to do?”

  Jackie patted him on the back as though he were a little boy. “You’re going to relax.”

  He rested against the wall. “I can’t believe I married her again. I know she has great family connections and a perfect background. Then there’s the money. But I have to wait three years for it. Three years with her before I see a penny.” He sniffed again. “How will I cope? She used to nag and nag and nag. She still does.” He raised his voice to a falsetto. “‘Brian, make sure the maid dusts’, ‘Brian, hire the lawn company’, ‘Brian, check the heater to make sure it’s at the right temperature.’”

  Jackie tried to sound sympathetic. “Yes, but remember all the things you missed when you were apart?”

  “I can’t remember one thing right now.”

  “You’re just having cold feet.”

  He looked doubtful. “After the wedding?”

  “Yes, once you’re on your honeymoon, you’ll—”

  He shook his head. “No big surprise there—I’ve already slept with her as a married man and we’re going to Pennsylvania so she can buy antiques. What am I going to do?” He held his head then let his hand fall. “I’ve ruined your life, too. You’re dating a man obviously beneath you trying to get over me. I realize there’s a raw appeal women have for men like that, but he won’t take you far. Don’t suffer because of me.” Jackie bristled; Brian didn’t notice. “I don’t know what I will do.”

  Jackie shifted, growing impatient. “Think of your career, your aspirations. Your wife can help you achieve that.”

  He thought for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right.” He began to smile. “Yes, you’re right. I’ve only been delayed, not stopped. I’m glad you came.”

  Jackie sighed, annoyed. “You’ve already said that.”

  “Do you think your date would mind if we danced?”

  “Probably not, but I don’t think we should. You should dance with your bride.”

  Brian stuffed the tissues in his pocket. “I’ve got ten years to dance with her.”

  “Only ten?”

  He looked amazed. “You don’t expect us to be married longer than that, do you? The percentage of second marriages lasting is even lower than the first.”

  “That’s a cynical approach to marriage.”

  “Just honest.” He pulled her close and began to move in rhythm to the music. “You know, when I’m on the market for a third wife, perhaps you’ll still be around.” His voice lowered. “Or we don’t have to stop seeing each other at all.”

  She smiled brightly. “Yes, you’re right.”

  “Good.”

  “But I walk dogs, I don’t date them.” She patted his cheek, pleased by his startled expression, and stepped back.

  “There you two are,” Clay said. “Can’t leave you two alone too long.” He nudged Brian in the ribs. It was a casual gesture, but applied with enough force to make Brian wince. “Wouldn’t want you chatting up my bird, now, would I?”

  Brian’s eyes darted between them. He lifted his chin, his pride still hurt from Jackie’s refusal. “I see that it would never have worked, you can’t fake polish.”

  “Doesn’t take much to pass yourself off as a poncy twit. Seemed to impress your wife.”

  Brian stormed away.

  Jackie watched him leave, then turned to Clay, furious. “What the hell was that?”

  Clay quickly dropped the accent. “You wanted someone rough about the edges.”

  “You needn’t have made a farce out of it.”

  “A farce was watching him sniveling all over you.”

  Her anger turned to embarrassment as she remembered Brian’s behavior. “It was awful. To even think I considered him husband material doesn’t say much about me. I’m sorry you saw that.”

  He grinned wickedly, rocking on his heels. “I’m not. Did you accomplish your goal?”

  “Well, I wanted him to be regretful, but I didn’t expect that.” She glanced at the reception hall. “How come revenge never quite works out the way you picture it?” She shot him a steely glare. “Then you had to act like a reject from a Noel Coward play and make me look ridiculous. I shouldn’t have come. I’m an idiot.”

  He nodded. “It’s always helpful to identify the problem first. Ow!” He cried when she hit him. He rubbed his arm. “So what are we going to do now?”

  “I don’t know. What does one do after a hollow victory?”

  He tucked her arm through his. “We could play a little game.”

  “What?”

  He nodded to a woman in the corner “What do you suggest I serve her for dinner?”

  Jackie snatched her arm away. “Arsenic, for all I care.” She headed inside.

  Clay grabbed her arm and spun her around. “Do I detect a note of jealousy?”

  “No.”

  He released her. “You were interested before.”

  She took a step closer, then tilted her head to the side. “You know what would interest me?”

  Clay looked down at her suspiciously, aware of the teasing glint in her eyes. “What?”

  “What would you cook for me?”

  He slowly smiled, shaking his head. “Dangerous waters, little girl.”

  “I’m not a little girl.”

  He glanced away, his voice low. “I know that.”

  She moved closer. “You haven’t answered my question.”

  He stepped back. “I don’t plan to.”

  “Why not’?”

  His voice deepened. “You know why.” He lifted her chin. There was nothing subtle about the gleam of interest in his gaze. “The night suits you, my little mischief maker.”

  Jackie narrowed her eyes, her voice a whisper. “I don’t cause mischief.”

  “I guess you only inspire it.” He bent down, she waited breathless for his lips to meet hers. He kissed her cheek instead.

  She stared at him her heart crashing to her feet. “A kiss on the cheek? What was that?”

  “A warning. Be careful who you try to bewitch.” He turned and walked toward the hall.

  “Are you afraid I may bewitch you?”

  He glanced over his shoulder and grinned. “No, but you should be,” he said, then disappeared inside.

  Chapter Six

  Nearly a week later, Jackie could still feel the tingle of Clay’s lips against her cheek. In her imagination his lips went much lower than that. She dreamed of what it would be like to bewitch a man like him and banish the shadows from his eyes. Just the thought brought heat to her face. She took a deep breath. Today she needed to focus. She adjusted the collar of her blouse and straightened her skirt as she rode the elevator to Payton Winstead’s office. Presentation was key. She knew people tended to indulge her as they would a Girl Scout selling cookies because she was cute. However, that wouldn’t be advantageous now. People weren’t willing to donate large sums of money to a little girl. She gripped her portfolio as the doors opened. To her surprise, she didn’t have to wait long before being ushered into his office.

  The secretary said he would be with her shortly, then partially shut the door. Jackie took the opportunity to glance around Winstead’s office. The style was studied sophistication mingled with unmitigated conceit, displayed by the number of photos of Payton posing with various important people.

  “Sorry to have kept you waiting,” he s
aid, entering the room.

  “Not at all.” Jackie stood and shook his hand.

  Powerful shoulders offset a sagging middle. He was fully aware of his physical defect and used his striking and prominent features to divert attention away from it. He brushed his russet-brown hair back so nothing could compete with his high forehead and cool brown eyes.

  “Would you like anything to drink?” he asked.

  “No, thank you.” She opened her portfolio. “I’d like to get right down to business.”

  “Certainly.” He settled on the couch. “What do you have for me?”

  Jackie sat next to him and dived into her usual sales pitch. She described all that her company offered, adding little anecdotes of successful clients. “I believe you used to donate to HOPE a while back and would like to persuade you to do so again. How can I do that?”

  His eyes brightened. “You would like to offer the same arrangements as Latisha?”

  Jackie chose her words carefully. “Since I am not aware of how Latisha did business, I can’t promise you anything. However, I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement ourselves.”

  “I’m sure we can.” His gaze briefly dropped to her legs. “You look very flexible.”

  Jackie paused. She didn’t like the strange emphasis he put on the word “flexible.” She stiffened when he leaned back and rested his arm the length of the couch, brushing the back of her neck. “I won’t deny that an immediate decision would be helpful.” She zipped her portfolio, ready to leave. “Naturally, I will give you time to think this over.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said in a smooth tone, “I’m thinking things over right now.” His eyes trailed the length of her this time. “Making quick decisions comes easily to me.”

  Right then she didn’t care what his decision was. He could take up self-mutilation for all she cared. She gathered her things.

  “I think you’ll do.” He grabbed her wrist before she stood. “Wait, you have fuzz on your blouse.” His hand grazed her breast as he removed invisible fuzz.

  She lowered her eyes as heat filled her face. Not from embarrassment—rage. Her voice remained cool. “I see.”

  Winstead interpreted the demure expression as an invitation. His hand dropped to her leg and began its ascent up her skirt. “I’m glad we understand each other.” He leaned close, his lips brushing her ear. “My wife’s a bitch.”

  She grabbed his crotch, not enough to hurt him, but enough to cause discomfort and promise more. Her eyes met his. “Yes. Unfortunately, so am I.” She lowered her voice, but kept her tone light. “Here is another opportunity to make a quick decision. Do you let go of my leg or do I crack your balls?”

  His hand fell.

  She stood, her voice composed. “I’m afraid this meeting is over.”

  He towered over her, eyes blazing. “No one’s going to invest in your stupid little program out of kindness. People want to make money, not give it away to lazy derelicts who are a burden to society. This is a big boy’s game.”

  Jackie glanced down at his trousers. “Not that big, apparently. Good-bye.” She opened the door.

  He slammed it shut. “You’ve obviously forgotten who you’re dealing with.”

  Jackie grasped the door handle. Whatever he did, she wasn’t moving from that spot. “Oh, I know what I’m dealing with.”

  His finger traced the line of her jaw, leaving her skin cold. “And just what would that be?”

  Jackie boldly met his eyes, but said nothing.

  “I can feel you trembling.” He began to smile. “You have every right to be scared. I destroyed Latisha and I could destroy you.”

  Jackie continued to stare, her look of contempt more forceful than words. The willful stance enraged him. He grabbed her arm, his hands like a tourniquet. He whispered, “I dare you to scream.”

  She quivered inside, every part of her wanting to collapse. She didn’t move.

  “I get what I want. Latisha didn’t quite understand that. We had a nice little arrangement until she wanted to change the rules. I wasn’t pleased and let her know it. She’s now living under another name in a city where nobody knows her. Plant a few incriminating business transactions, call it blackmail, and a career is destroyed.”

  “Thank you for that information,” she said in clipped tones.

  “You don’t believe me.”

  “Yes, I believe you and so do my colleagues who are listening to this conversation right now.”

  His smug veneer slipped. “Colleagues?”

  “Yes. I’m working with Hodder Investigations on behalf of Latisha and they’re listening to the wire tap right now. We can overlook this confession if you let me leave now, or you could start getting your lawyers together. You decide.”

  His grip tightened. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. “Show me the wire.”

  “It’s in a place you will never see. And if you try to find it, I’ll bite you until I draw blood.” Jackie flashed a grin for emphasis.

  He released his grip and took a hasty step back. Jackie spun around and raced out the door.

  Once outside, she felt her legs give way. A group of senior tourists grabbed her before she collapsed onto the sidewalk.

  “Are you okay?” a man in a bulky D.C. sweatshirt asked.

  She gathered strength from their support and comfort. “I just felt dizzy a moment. I’m fine.”

  A woman in a sun visor patted her hand. “You’re probably just pregnant.”

  Jackie nearly laughed. “Uh, no.”

  “Ignore her,” a husky-voiced woman said. “She’s just missing her fertile years.”

  Jackie straightened and forced a smile. “Thank you.” She waved, then walked away, trying to tame the remnants of anger and fear that still gripped her as his hand had. Thank god he believed her lie. She had become an expert liar during childhood and had learned not to show fear. The streets were not kind to weaknesses. It was a place where grown men looked at seven-year-old girls with decidedly adult thoughts. A place where your wits were your greatest tool. If you were weak, you were prey. She couldn’t risk that.

  When she returned to HOPE Services later that day, Patty and Faye looked at her expectantly.

  Jackie walked past them into her office. “Winstead is a definite no,” she said firmly, inviting no questions. She closed the, door, then paced, wanting to break something. She hated him for making her feel vulnerable, for reminding her that she was powerless, that men like him did rule the world. Jackie clenched her fists and wished she’d squeezed him harder.

  Clay was right, she didn’t like the word “no.” Perhaps it was West Indian arrogance, but she didn’t like being told she couldn’t do something. She and her brothers had once been one of those derelicts, as Winstead liked to call them. But they had succeeded in becoming much more. And so would the people she helped. They would become viable citizens. She just needed money. Jackie would find an investor eventually. She wouldn’t let HOPE services disappear as many other nonprofits had. She refused to fail.

  ***

  Mack hung up the phone and stared at it in wonder. “What the hell was that?”

  Clay sat in his chair with faxes Brent had given him. “Strange call?”

  “That was Payton Winstead. He said he would destroy us if we released the tape.”

  Clay paused. “What tape?”

  Mack scratched his head. “Beats me.”

  “Did he sound sober?”

  “He sounded scared—worried. Worried men are dangerous.” He folded his arms, pensive. “He could do some damage to our reputations if he wanted to.”

  “Did you tell him you didn’t know what he was talking about?”

  “Of course not.” Mack clasped his hands behind his head. “I told him he could pay us off and consider the tape erased.”

  Clay stared, amazed.

  Mack raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, it made him relax. I did a good deed.”

  He frowned. “What if those tapes show
up somewhere?”

  “Then I’ll think of something.” He grinned. “I always do.”

  That night Clay lay on his couch with a beer can resting on his stomach. He flipped through the TV channels for the mind-numbing entertainment it usually provided. Someone knocked on the door. Clay took another swig of beer. He rarely got visitors and figured someone would discover they had the wrong address. They knocked again. And again. He set his beer down and stood. “Who is it?”

  “It’s me,” a female voice replied.

  He looked through the peephole, but only saw the back of a woman’s head. He opened the door. “Can I help you?”

  Jackie turned and smiled up at him. “Hi, you wouldn’t believe the day I had.”

  He stared at her, then softly swore. He still wanted her. He’d hoped the feeling would pass. “This is a bad idea.”

  She ignored him and walked into the room. “Have you eaten?” When he didn’t reply, she nodded. “No? Me neither. We can order in.”

  He leaned against the door and shook his head, confused. “Wait, wait. What do you mean ‘we?’ What are you doing here?”

  “Have you found anything on my case?”

  “No. You gave it to us only a week ago. Don’t worry, you’ll get your invisible man.”

  “I know. I was just asking.” She looked at the cage in the corner. “Hi, Laura.” The bird chirped. She turned to Clay. “That’s not why I came.”

  “Am I supposed to guess or are you going to tell me?”

  She tossed her portfolio down and stepped out of her high heels. “I just came to visit.”

  His brows shot up. “With me?”

  “Does someone else live here?” She opened the fridge, grabbed a beer, and took a long swallow. “Mmm, this is good.” She licked her lips then set the can down on the large gray trunk he used as a coffee table. “I just need to talk and you’re easy to talk to. I used to visit my brothers, but with them being family men now, it’s just not appropriate. I thought since you’re around . . .” She shrugged. “Do you want to talk about your day first or—” She held up a hand. “Actually, I think we should order dinner first.”