Love Me Not

by Reese Ryan

  Heat crawled up Jamie’s neck and burned her cheeks. “Both, I guess.”

  Nazirah smiled. “I did not think you would be so honest.” She patted Jamie’s hand then took another sip of her tea. “But life is messy. Love is messy. Family is messy. To truly live, to truly love, we must take chances. Sometimes that means we get hurt. But to experience the great joys of love and family, we must be willing to take that risk.”

  Jamie couldn’t respond. She lifted the cup to her lips and hoped that Nazirah was right.

  * * *

  Josephine sat in the back of the café, looking around like a fugitive on the run, nervous and shaky. Jamie sighed. She was definitely using.

  Jamie slid into the chair across from her and hung her jacket on the back of the chair.

  “Hi.” Josephine smiled. Jamie noticed how brown her teeth were and that a few in the back were missing.

  “Hey.” Jamie fidgeted with her nails.

  “Thanks for meeting me.” Jo placed a cold, bony hand on her daughter’s.

  Jamie slipped her hand from beneath hers and folded her hands in her lap.

  Jo sighed, crumpling against the cushion, her hands pressed flat against the table. “I know this isn’t easy for you. It’s not for me either—”

  “This isn’t easy for you? So am I supposed to feel sorry for you? You’re the one who fucked up everything. My childhood. My relationship with my father. My life. I’m thirty and I’m still a fucking mess. So don’t you dare sit there and tell me how this isn’t easy for you.”

  Jamie’s hands and voice trembled. She ignored the disapproving glares of patrons at a nearby table. If they had an inkling of what a shitty deal she’d gotten as the daughter of Josephine and Matthew Charles, they’d give her a pass.

  “I didn’t mean...” Jo took a breath then met Jamie’s gaze. “I know I done wrong by you and I’m sorry, but that’s why I’m here. I can’t change what happened, the mistakes I made. But you hating me ain’t gon’ change it none, either. It’s the anger that’s hurting you. I’m here because I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life this way.”

  “So now you’re concerned about what happens to me? You think you can just show up and say you’re sorry, and all is forgiven? Well, fuck you.” Hot tears stung her eyes and her voice wavered. She wiped her eyes angrily with the back of her hand. Lotion got in them and it stung even more.

  Jo hung her head, her voice lowered to just above a whisper. “I deserve every vile word you can say to me. And if that’s what you have to do to get past what I’ve done—”

  “Get past what you’ve done?” Jamie laughed loudly, causing more people to turn and stare. “You want me to get past all the things you’ve done? That’s fucking hilarious. Which things? Dishing me off on my friend’s family? Not coming home some nights? Drinking your life away and making me responsible for taking care of you? And you know what? The sad thing is, I could probably forgive every one of those things. But I’ll never be able to forgive you for what you didn’t do.”

  Jo’s eyes filled with tears. She covered her face with her hand. Something in Jamie relished the pain etched in her mother’s face. Still, there was nothing she could say that could hurt Josephine nearly as much as she’d been hurt by her mother’s negligence.

  “I’m so sorry, baby.” Tears ran down Jo’s face, making paths along the hardened lines in her skin. “I was out of my head, not thinking straight. I never meant to hurt you.”

  Jamie could feel Jo’s heart breaking. She’d finally received the apology she’d waited for for two decades, but the feeling of intense satisfaction she’d expected didn’t come. She studied her mother’s haggard face, watched as her body heaved with sobs. She didn’t feel vindicated or relieved. Now intensely aware of the other patrons staring at them, she felt pathetic and incredibly sad. The wounds that had taken so long to heal, with their jagged, misshapen scars, tore open and gushed fresh, new blood. This was a bad idea. She didn’t need this...didn’t need her. All she wanted now was to put as much real estate as possible between her and the woman blubbering across the table.

  “All you’ve ever cared about is yourself. I didn’t mean shit to you then.” Jamie lowered her voice—cold, hard and devoid of any connection between them—as she leaned across the table. “And you don’t mean shit to me now. So please, don’t call me anymore.”

  Jamie threw a twenty on the table and hurried out of the café, nearly stumbling over a chair. Her chest felt tighter than if it’d been squeezed into a corset three sizes too small. She could barely breathe and her eyes stung. Leaving her jacket behind, she made her way back to the comfort of her truck, where she could finally take a breath, where no one could see her cry.

  Somewhere deep inside she’d been sure that apology would have miraculous power, like a salve with instant healing powers. But it wasn’t true. She couldn’t be fixed. Her parents weren’t worth a damn and neither, apparently, was she.

  Miles Copeland should thank his lucky stars he’d escaped.

  Chapter Eight

  It’d been more than a month since he’d kissed Jamie. Keeping his distance from her was driving him crazy. Especially since she was just across the street, a few floors down.

  He missed her laugh. The way she gave him shit whenever he wasn’t being completely honest with her—or with himself. He missed the way her skin glowed in the dim light of the bar. The way she smiled at him when she wasn’t trying to. In fact, those were the smiles he treasured most. He’d earned them the hard way and they were worth so much more than the polite giggle he easily got from other women. Jamie Charles was unlike any woman he’d ever known, and he wanted to get to know her better.

  But there was that stupid rule about not dating customers. It made good business sense, especially in a high-end restaurant like Tahlia’s. Still, it was the only thing between them right now, he was sure of it. He was willing to bet his heart on it.

  Miles glanced at his watch. It was nearly 3 a.m. on a Saturday night. He looked out the window of his hotel room and down across the street. It had been long enough.

  * * *

  Miles slowly approached Jamie in the parking lot. Her coworker, Lisa, saw him first. He raised a finger to his lips. She nodded imperceptibly, hardly able to contain a grin.

  “Jamie,” he said when he was just a few feet behind her.

  She spun around, putting her hand to her chest. “Miles? My God, what is it with you and creeping up on people at three in the morning?”

  “I needed to talk to you.” He took a step back, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.

  She said good night to Lisa then leaned against the door of her idling truck, arms folded tightly across her chest. Jamie angled her head, a frown tugging at the corner of those dark, pouty lips. Her intense stare demanded an explanation. “You know where I work. Why didn’t you just come to the bar?”

  “Why?” The edge of Mile’s mouth turned up slightly as he inched closer. “Did you miss me?”

  “I just noticed you weren’t there. That’s all,” she said. “After all, you were here at least three times a week for months, but then you kiss me and I don’t see you again for—”

  “Six weeks.” His voice was softer and lower as he stepped closer to her. “And I haven’t been able to think about anything but that kiss since then.”

  Head tilted slightly, her eyes studied his. “Really?”

  He nodded, smiling. “Really.”

  “That night, when I told you we couldn’t see each other...you disappeared without saying goodbye. So why are you back now? The rule hasn’t changed.”

  “Our situation has.”

  “What do you mean?” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I still work here and you’re still—”

  “A customer? Not anymore. I haven’t been here for more than a month, and I won’t walk through those doors again. That means I’m no longer a customer. I’m just a man who is absolutely crazy about you. Crazy enough to sacrifi
ce the best pork chops I’ve eaten in years.” His smile widened. “That’s gotta mean something, right?”

  Lips pressed into a faint grimace, Jamie blinked twice and tugged at her ear lobe. “I’m flattered that you like me, and I’m obviously attracted to you, but I’m not the kind of girl you wanna get mixed up with. Trust me.”

  “Why not? Because your life isn’t neat and perfect? No one’s is.”

  “You have no idea who I really am. I know you think I’m nice or that you like me or whatever, but the girl you like is the barmaid who has to be nice to you because you’re a customer. Do you have any clue how many times I would’ve cussed you out if I hadn’t been working behind that bar?”

  “Jamie—”

  “I’m not a nice person, Miles. I’m a complete bitch. A guy like you? I’d chew you up and spit you out before you had the slightest idea what hit you. So do us both a favor. Just walk away. There’s nothing to see here. Nothing you’d want if you experienced the real me, up close and personal. So let’s save ourselves some aggravation, okay?” She turned and pulled on the door handle. It didn’t budge.

  Miles placed his hand on her shoulder. “I know you’re scared, but I’m not going to hurt you. I care very much for you.” She trembled slightly but didn’t respond. Wouldn’t even turn around. “Say something. Please. Anything.”

  She turned around, ripping his hand from her shoulder. “Men always promise that, but it’s not true. They all hurt you. And the truth is, I’m going to hurt you, too. Even if I don’t want to. Because that’s who I am. That’s the person I’ve always been. That’s the only person I’ll ever be. And I don’t want to hurt you. So trust me when I tell you, this isn’t what you want. I’m not who you want.”

  He gripped her arms firmly. She looked away, but he lifted her chin with one hand. He needed to look in her eyes, needed her to believe every goddamn word he was about to say—because it was the absolute truth. “I’m not your father. I’m not like the guys your mom dated. I’m not any of the guys from your past. I’m the man you’ve gotten to know right there in that bar. The man who gets a kick out of making you laugh because it’s one of the most scintillating sounds I’ve ever heard. The man who sees how beautiful and brilliant you are. Who sees the person even you don’t see. You say I don’t know the real you, that I could never care about you the way I do if I did. Then prove it. Let me in. Open the door a crack, just enough for me to get a foot in.” He tried to put her at ease with a reassuring smile. “I won’t hurt you, Jamie. I promise.”

  Her steely gaze softened and he could see tears welling in them. She bit her lip as tears slid down her cheeks. Miles pulled Jamie into him, wrapping his arms around her as she buried her face in his chest.

  This wasn’t the way he’d envisioned their reunion, but it was exactly what she needed. He squeezed her against his body and kissed the top of her head, inhaling her scent—lemongrass maybe. Suddenly she sniffled and took a step backward as she wiped her face with the back of her hand.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t believe I just blubbered all over you like that. God, I’m so embarrassed right now.”

  “Don’t apologize,” he said. “I want you to be able to talk to me. About anything. That’s what friends are for, right?” He nudged her arm with his elbow.

  “I guess.” She laughed then sniffled again. She took a step toward him, closing the gap between them again. “But if after that disgusting, snot-filled display you’re still interested, I accept your challenge.”

  He looked down at her. Even with a tear-streaked face and reddened cheeks, she was still gorgeous in the moonlight.

  * * *

  Miles leaned down and planted delicate kisses on her face that made her belly flutter. She hadn’t expected that. She’d expected him to go full-in greedy and attack the mouth that ached to taste his again. The kisses Miles trailed down the side of her face at once stoked the warmth in her belly and the damp heat at her core. Desiring him made perfect sense. He was gorgeous, sweet, funny. The trembling that slowly spread through her body and the inability to catch her breath in response to innocent kisses was completely foreign. She wasn’t in control of herself anymore. He was. But she knew how to regain control.

  She pressed the heel of her shaky hand into his chest and inhaled a deep breath, like she’d emerged from beneath water. Raising her eyes to his, she saw the desire in them. He wanted to put his hands on her bare skin, to plunge his length inside her, just as much as she wanted it. “I’d love to continue this,” she whispered in his ear. “But it’s freezing out here.”

  Honestly, her body was filled with such intense heat she could probably power a small vehicle. She wanted to feel him inside her so badly that she’d let him fuck her right here in the backseat if he wanted to. But with his hotel room mere steps away, that seemed crass, even for her.

  He swallowed, nodding glumly. “You’re right. Why don’t we...save this for another night. It’s late. You’re tired.”

  She wondered if her face mirrored the rejection she felt there in the dark, the light of the streetlamp barely missing them. “I am,” she said, trying to keep her voice from wavering. “It’s been a long week.”

  He nodded again, but she could see the disappointment there. He’d been looking for confirmation that she wanted to go back to his place, probably afraid he’d come off sleazy if he’d suggested it. Now it was too late to change her story without seeming as desperate for him as she felt.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow, after you’ve had a chance to get some sleep. I’d like to take you to lunch.” He rested his fingertips lightly on her shoulder, then leaned in and placed his mouth on hers, his length pressing against her belly and increasing the warmth between her thighs. Finally he tore his mouth from her throbbing, barely satiated lips and placed one last kiss on her forehead. “Good night, beautiful.”

  Miles tugged firmly on the door handle and ushered her inside the truck. He stood there patiently as she pulled out of the parking lot.

  Jamie was stunned. Wasn’t this the point of the whole chase—to get her in bed? Here she was willing—God, was she willing—and he’d suggested they call it a night, given her a kiss on the forehead and sent her away? But then why hadn’t she told him the truth? That she wanted him to take her back to his hotel room?

  He’d obviously wanted her as much as she wanted him. She sighed, remembering the feel of him, pressed hard against her belly. So why was he still standing there under the streetlight while she was driving away, limbs shaking, heart pounding, her desire for him blazing like a four-alarm fire?

  * * *

  Miles stood there, frozen in his spot, for a full minute after she’d gone, dick hard, pulse racing. He’d wanted to take her back to his bed and be properly introduced to every one of the tattoos he’d glimpsed as she moved about the bar. Each one taunted him—drove him practically insane—as he imagined his fingers tracing the edges he couldn’t see. He needed a drink. Something stiff as he was now, his khakis uncomfortably tented. Pulling his coat around him, he trudged across the street.

  Back in his room he pulled out a bottle of brandy and poured himself a liberal glass. The liquid sloshed a little as he raised the glass to his mouth and gulped. Jamie Charles was trouble with a capital T and a minimum of three exclamation points. Every fiber of his being knew it. So why was she all he could think of? He glanced across his darkened hotel suite at the empty king-size bed. If he wanted her so desperately, why wasn’t she here in his bed so he could explore every inch of her delicate skin?

  In the beginning there was nothing he desired more than the satisfaction of touching her, of tasting her. He’d dreamed of how it would feel to sink his fingers into the round curves of that incredible ass, body trembling, as he came deep inside her. But that was before he’d gotten to know her. She was beautiful, complex, smart and sweet—though she tried her hardest not to show it. Jamie was a fascinating, intricate puzzle he desperately needed to solve. And yet there was something about her th
at was comforting and familiar. Miles didn’t want her body for a night, or even a week. He yearned for a deeper connection with her. Wanted her to belong to him—mind, body and soul, the way he belonged to her. A proposition she’d made it quite clear held no interest for her. So despite the fact that he wanted her in his bed tonight, he knew he had to make her want more than that, or he’d lose her. And that wasn’t a chance he was willing to take.

  Chapter Nine

  Miles parked in Jamie’s driveway and rang her doorbell. She stuck her head out of the window. “Be down in a minute.”

  He leaned against the car door and waited for her.

  They’d met for lunch twice over the past week, but tonight was their first formal date, and he was looking forward to it. He planned to take her somewhere special, where the food was almost as good as it was at Tahlia’s. Later they’d attend an event at the Contemporary Museum of Art. He hadn’t told her about it. It was a surprise. But he hoped she’d be excited.

  He’d run into Jamie’s friend Lisa at the drugstore and asked her for suggestions for their first official date. Lisa had grinned like a Cheshire cat when she’d suggested attending the opening of a new juried art exhibition at the museum.

  It made sense. After all, she was an artist. Attending the preview gala the night before was his idea. It was probably too early to try to impress her with expensive, nearly-impossible-to-get tickets to an art exhibit. But Jamie was special, and he wanted her to know he thought so.

  The doorknob turned and he looked anxiously at the doorway, waiting for her to emerge. She stepped outside in a body-hugging wrap dress that clung to her curves in ways that made every part of his body stand at attention. The cropped, black velvet jacket, trimmed in satin, stopped at just about the place on her body where his imagination had begun to run wild. Her dark hair—which she usually pulled back in a ponytail—fell in soft, glossy curls around her face. She stood several inches taller. He glanced down at her feet. She was wearing a pair of wedge heels with a peep toe. A white skull and crossbones was splashed across the front of the shoe and Ed Hardy was scripted on the side. Each ankle was ringed with a tattoo. Perfectly Jamie. He opened his mouth, but his blood-deprived brain was taking a brief vacation. No words came out.