She gave his wrist a sharp yank. “But I was the one eating the ice cream and talking about babies and farms and marriage and all that other stuff. So I need to know...which one is it?” He gaze searched his face and he could read the desperation in it.
“Which one what?” he asked, knowing what her answer would be but unable to face it.
“Which one of us do you love, Jason? Monica or me? I need to know.”
Jason couldn’t answer her question. Not at the moment. There were too many peoples’ hearts at stake. Too many lives potentially shattered. He had to think things through. He had to do what was right for everyone. That did not involve a hasty answer to a drunk woman’s desperate question. Yet, he couldn’t hurt her feelings either.
A quick retreat was his best bet. Maybe her friend was right and she had a crazy imagination. Maybe she didn’t know what she was saying.
Like a chicken, something he never prided in being, he headed for the door. “Jane, get some rest and we’ll talk about it later.”
“Promise?” she said behind him as he made his getaway.
“Promise,” he answered, hoping by morning she would have forgotten all about it. Or better yet, come to her senses.
There was no such thing as fairy godmothers. And wishes—even made by lonely little boys on falling stars or on extra-special, limited edition coins thrown in wishing wells—didn’t come true.
He had indisputable proof of it.
Chapter Fourteen
Jane saw neither hide nor hair of Jason throughout November and half of December. Monica didn’t send her on any more excursions to check out banquet halls and he didn’t make an appearance at her wedding shower.
She guessed whatever had happened the night she’d gotten tanked, both Monica and Jason had decided she shouldn’t be near him any longer, or vice versa. She was almost glad she didn’t remember what she’d said or done—she tended to get amnesia from imbibing too much. From the aftermath, she guessed it had probably been pretty darn stupid.
Tonight, as she did her hair for the annual company Christmas party, she tried to convince herself she’d have a good time. Again, she would probably be the only one there without a significant other, but it was becoming tradition. Why change it now? Besides, who would dance with Mr. Kaufmann’s aged father? In his nineties and still going strong, the man could dance the night away with the best of them.
She made sure she had a dress she could move in without exposing anything important and heels that wouldn’t make her lame in fifteen minutes then headed out to the car. She’d briefly considered sharing a ride with Lori and her boyfriend but quickly dismissed that idea as downright stupid. The last thing she needed to be tonight was a third wheel.
Tiny snowflakes, glittering like diamond chips, were falling from the sky, coating her car, the grass and the road in a thin layer of white dust. Not bothering to brush it off the windshield, she put the gaily decorated package she carried in the backseat, then got in her car, started it and flipped on the heat and the wipers.
Bone-chilling air blasted her in the face, doing nothing to melt the snow that coated the windshield. Luckily, it was light, versus the thick heavy snow that came later in the winter and accumulated by the foot. The wipers did the trick, whisking away the thin layer in one swoop. She didn’t wait for the heat to warm up before she put the car into gear and drove to the banquet hall where the party was being held.
“I’ll eat, dance a few with old man Kaufmann then head home,” she told herself, dreading the evening and wishing it was over before it began. At every turn, she considered going back home and forgetting the whole thing, but the fifteen-dollar ticket tucked safely in her clutch kept her from actually going through with it.
Money was money. She rarely spent so much on a night out. Also, she knew Lori would not let her get away with pulling a no-show. She’d call every minute until Jane answered the phone and agreed to come. Friends could be real pain in the you-know-what sometimes.
By the time she pulled into the parking lot, she was prepared to make her entrance. She parked, sucked in a long breath to try to wash away the last bits of regret for showing up, and walked inside.
The first face she saw was the last one she’d expected—Jason’s. He was standing smack-dab in the center of the foyer, looking toward the door. Monica was nowhere to be seen but had to be there somewhere too, perhaps the ladies room. Neither had been expected to show up. According to rumor, Monica had said she wouldn’t be attending the Christmas party.
Why did she have to change her mind?
When her gaze locked with Jason’s, Jane felt her face heat up. Desire washed away the dread and she felt herself being drawn across the room toward him, as if pulled by an invisible rope. To stop herself, she gripped the closest stationary thing she could find, the door handle, and hung on, hoping the temptation to throw herself at his feet and beg for a hug would pass.
Just one little hug. That would be enough to last a while, at least a week...okay maybe not.
Someone outside rapped on the door and she reluctantly released it so they could enter the building.
Forcing a smile, she walked toward Jason and nodded. “Hello, Jason. It’s good to see you again.”
“Hi, Jane. You too.”
As she continued past him, she forced herself to look straight ahead, toward the room at the opposite end of the hallway and the sign sitting on the easel that read, “Kaufmann”. She felt his gaze on her back, whisper-soft and warm, like a caress.
She sighed. “Well, if that wasn’t awkward!” she murmured to herself. This night was going to be even worse than she’d thought. Even more reason to eat and make an early escape—and above all avoid alcohol.
She saw the usual characters as she paused just inside the door and scoped out the scene. The people who rarely saw each other during the normal workweek chattered with each other like old friends. Mr. Kaufmann junior was sitting at the bar, tilting a little to the left already, nudged by a few brandies, she guessed. His father was on the dance floor, practicing his moves to the mood music playing on the speakers. The DJ wouldn’t start playing the dance music until after dinner, but the elder Mr. Kaufmann was always anxious to get his groove thang loosened up early. For that, he needed a partner. Jane knew her goose would be cooked the minute he saw her, so she tried a stealth maneuver toward the closest seat, at a round table about ten feet from the door.
Right away she spied a familiar purse sitting on the chair. This was not the ideal table to sit at. She glanced up to see if the dancing man had spied her yet.
Nope. But his gaze was headed in her general direction. If she dared try for another table, he’d see her for sure. She was not about to get out there and dance to orchestrated 1980s tunes in front of the entire office...again.
She hunched over a little and headed to the next chair she could find with no purse or napkin signifying possession by some roaming individual and sat in it. Determined to make this temporary and find another seat as soon as possible but suffering a throat as dry as the Mojave, she tucked the wrapped gift for her Secret Santa under the table and reached for the metal pitcher of ice water.
“Over here, honey,” she heard Monica say.
Jane’s mild case of dread developed into a severe one. She guzzled the water, which seemed to miss the dry spot in the back of her throat as she swallowed and frantically searched the room for another empty seat.
Maybe dancing to the elevator-music version of Like a Virgin wasn’t such a bad thing.
Monica sat beside her and smiled. “Jane! I’m so glad you made it. And I’m glad you decided to sit with us. You remember Jason.” She pointed over her shoulder at a red-faced Jason who was standing behind her, playing the gentleman by pushing in her chair for her. The huge rock on her left ring finger glittered in the light from the table’s centerpiece candle as she pointed. Even after all this time Jane couldn’t help noticing it.
“Yes, I remember. We bumped into each other out
in the lobby when I first came in,” Jane said, trying hard not to stare at his handsome face. Was it possible he’d gotten better-looking since she’d last seen him? Her heart ached as memories of moments shared alone with him buzzed through her mind. “I was surprised...to see you came this year. This has to be the first time, isn’t it?”
Jason took his seat on the other side of Monica, too far away yet not far enough.
“Yes. I usually avoid these kinds of gatherings like the plague. But every year I hear all the stories about this party and regret not coming, so this year I decided no matter what I’d have to come. Have you had a drink yet?” Monica asked, stirring a tall glass of something with a swizzle stick that looked like a candy cane. “I can send Jason to the bar for you.”
“Maybe later. What’re you having?” Jane asked, eyeing the glass with suspicion. “That’s not your usual water with lemon.”
“Long Island Iced Tea. I’ve heard they’re fabulous.” Monica took a sip and wrinkled her nose. “Whoo. Strong.”
“More like lethal,” Jane summed up as she tried to get a glimpse at Jason. He seemed to be hiding behind Monica.
Monica took a second drink. “Well, I wanted to have something a little stronger than the usual since tonight’s a special night. You know, we’ll be getting married exactly three weeks from tomorrow. I never thought I’d say this but I can’t wait.”
Jane merely nodded. “I know.”
Monica turned her head toward Jason. “What’s wrong, honey? You’re mighty quiet tonight.”
Jason whispered something in Monica’s ear then excused himself and left the table.
Monica turned toward Jane again and shrugged. “Says he’s not feeling well. Poor baby.” She took several long swallows of her drink then set it down. “It’s probably jet lag again. He’s been traveling a lot lately.”
“That must be hard on you too.”
“No, not really,” Monica answered, coolly. “I’ve never been the dependent, clingy type. In fact, I like a little space. It’s good for a relationship.”
Jason returned a minute later, smiled at both Jane and Monica and sat. Either Jane had been imagining his dark mood or something had made it do a sudden one-eighty. He looked downright chipper. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “So, what are you ladies talking about?”
“Men, of course,” Monica answered. “That’s what all women love to talk about. Can’t live with them, can’t live without them, as they say.”
He chuckled. “I should’ve guessed. So, what did I do this time?”
Monica patted his knee. “Nothing, sweetheart. At least nothing bad.”
That last part made Jane feel a little ill. She did not want to know about their sex life—correction, any more about their sex life than she already knew. She knew enough as it was. She recalled the chasing game and the look on Jason’s face the night of the hayride.
Then she felt a little sicker.
“Are you okay, Jane? You don’t look so good,” Monica said.
“I’m feeling a little under the weather. Must be all those last-minute wedding plans I’ve been taking care of,” Jane suggested, adding, “since someone’s hoity-toity wedding planner decided to pick up shop and move...out of the country.”
“That’s not my fault.” Monica crossed her arms over her chest and grimaced. “Who would’ve thought she’d lie about Oprah, for God’s sake? I thought that was illegal.” Her frown changed suddenly into a smile. “Thank God you’ve really come in to save the day. I owe you so much, I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”
“Maybe you can introduce me to your brother-in-law someday,” Jane suggested.
Monica scowled. “My brother-in-law? I didn’t know I had one of those. Honey, you have a brother?” She looked at Jason.
Jane looked at Jason.
Jason looked at Jane with very wide eyes and visibly swallowed. “Sure, I told you the night of the hayride. You remember that, don’t you? You must have told Jane, or she’s a private investigator,” he joked. He smiled and winked but the alarm Jane had seen was still plain on his face.
Had he just realized she was the one who’d been with him that night?
“Sure,” Jane said, making certain to keep her voice light and her tone joking. “That’s it. I moonlight as a private investigator. And since I was so concerned for Monica’s welfare, I did a little bit of snooping, Mr. Foxx.”
Monica looked convinced. “How handy. What did you find out?”
“Oh, the usual things. He pays his taxes,” Jane said, looking at Jason. Should she say more? Gauging by his intense stare, she was sure she had his captivated attention. But what would she gain from it? So what if he knew it was her that night? He was happy with the Monica he had now. They’d switched back some time ago. Since then, they’d become engaged and planned a wedding. He clearly wasn’t having any doubts about which woman he loved, at least not anymore.
It would be unforgivably wrong to break them up now...unless he was still searching for the truth.
He couldn’t be!
“What else?” Monica asked. “You look like you’ve found some deep, dark secret. Jason, dear. What sorts of skeletons have you been hiding in your closets?”
“Mmm...I’m not going to say. Let’s let Jane tell us. What else have you learned?” Jason prodded. “You’ve piqued both our interests. What sorts of secrets have you discovered?”
“Oh nothing... I shouldn’t,” Jane mumbled, not sure she was doing the right thing. What if she caused them to break up and Monica was devastated? Could she live with herself? Heck no!
“Yes, you should,” Jason stated firmly. The way he looked at her spoke volumes. He was still searching. He needed to know the truth.
Jane looked at Monica for some help, a hint, anything. Monica nodded. “Pretty please? I want to know what you found out too.”
“Well, let’s see,” Jane tried to recall the other private information he’d shared with her. “His mother died during childbirth...and...his father is a hard-nosed workaholic who...taught his boys to never believe in wishes.”
Monica’s eyes widened in alarm as she finally seemed to understand what they were talking about. “How could you possibly know...” She didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, she turned to Jason. “Oh, I remember now. You were right. I told her. Silly me. I’m so ditzy sometimes. You know I’m a natural blonde...”
Jason didn’t look at Monica. His gaze was razor-sharp and fixed on Jane. “I...I... Shit. I’ll be right back.” He stood and hurried from the room.
Jane braced for Monica’s wrath, or at least a few harsh words, but as Monica faced her, she realized it wasn’t forthcoming. Monica was smiling. In fact, she appeared downright gleeful.
Perhaps the half of the Long Island Monica had consumed had taken effect?
“I think we’ve totally confused the poor man,” Monica said with a chuckle. She drained her glass and stood. “Now, that makes two of us.” Obviously feeling the effects of the strong drink, she half-walked, half-staggered across the room toward the bar.
Eager for some clarification—this whole confusion thing was downright...confusing...to Jane too!—she followed Monica. But before she reached the bar, someone caught her hand and gave it a sharp yank.
Realizing where she was standing, in the center of the dance floor, she knew the person who had caught her could only be one Mr. Kaufmann, Senior, dance fiend extraordinaire.
He grinned, displaying a set of sparkling white dentures and said, “There’s my dance partner. I’ve been waiting for you, honey. Where’ve you been?” He pulled her into his arms with a force much too great for a man his age and waltzed her around the dance floor.
The whole room filled with applause.
“I’m so glad you made it,” he said as he led her into a spin. “That little young thing, what’s her name, April, Ann? She doesn’t know how to dance worth beans.”
“You’re close. That’s Angela. Maybe you could teach h
er,” Jane suggested, trying to find Monica as she whirled in time to a fully orchestrated rendition of Tainted Love. Monica was confused? About what? About Jason?
“Nope. I tried. She doesn’t have a lick of rhythm,” Mr. Kaufmann said.
“She should have. She was a cheerleader in college.” Jane craned her neck, still trying to locate Monica.
“Really?” He dipped Jane. His pale blue eyes scanned her face. Then he returned her to an upright position, and she returned her attention to searching the room for one drunk Monica who seemed to be in the mood for honesty.
“I swear.” Her back to the bar, she craned her neck to try to catch a glimpse of where Monica might have gone. “She has a picture up in her office at work.”
“Who’re you looking for, doll? Doncha want to dance with me? I live for this every year, you know.”
She looked at him and smiled. “I’m sorry. I was right in the middle of something when you...I mean, a few minutes ago. I suppose it can wait. But you have to promise me you won’t be disappointed if I need to take a break after this dance.”
“Fair enough.” He looked very pleased. “I don’t suppose your date would appreciate me keeping you to myself all night.”
She didn’t correct his false assumption. It might lead to hurt feelings. Instead, she tried to enjoy the moment. The man really did know how to dance, unlike the guys she dated. He knew how to hold her, how to lead her in the right direction with just the slightest pressure to her shoulder or a subtle shift in his weight. It was a shame younger men didn’t learn to dance like that anymore.
When the song ended, Mr. Kaufmann released her and gave her shoulder a gentle pat. “You’re a good girl, Miss Brown. I’ve always told my son that he should treat you better.”
“Well, thank you. I suppose I need to do more than be a good dancer to earn my raises, but I appreciate the thought.”
She found Monica and Jason both at the table. Based on their grim expressions, she guessed they were involved in a very serious discussion. Not wishing to be an unwelcome interruption, or cause any more trouble, she decided to go find another seat and give them the chance to hash out whatever they were discussing.
Tangled: A New Adult Romance Boxed Set (12 Book Bundle of Billionaires, Bad Boys, and Royalty) Page 70