The Princess and the Pauper

by Nancy Bush

  “This whole situation.”

  “You asked me to help,” she snapped back. “I don’t want to be here.”

  “Well, that makes two of us,” he muttered furiously. “I don’t want to be here, either. I don’t want to be here with you.”

  Her glare was beautiful. “Why did you take this job then? You knew I worked here.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “My father owns the store. It’s hardly a headline that I might be involved, too.”

  “I took this job because of Jordan,” he said through his teeth.

  “And let him think you’re here to see me! That’s not fair, Jesse!”

  “So what is fair? Nothing, Princess, or haven’t you learned that yet?”

  She stamped her stockinged foot in frustration. “I learned it. Oh, boy, did I learn it. I learned it ten years ago. I learned it when you left me. I learned it every time my daughter went without something she needed because I was too proud to admit my father was right about you!”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Jesse demanded.

  “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about my life!”

  It was an echo of the past. April could hear herself spouting the same words, feeling the same tumultuous feelings.

  “Well, you don’t know a thing about me, either,” Jesse warned. “Not one damn thing.”

  He moved toward her and she reared back, but the file cabinet was behind her. The hair on the back of her neck stood up just before his hand slid behind her nape, pulling her forward. She stumbled against him, her hands grazing his shirt, her legs brushing his thigh. Her feet almost stepped on his boots. Then his mouth descended toward hers. She yanked backward and only succeeded in pressing her hips against his pelvis. The shock was electric. She gasped. Jesse swore. He dropped his hands to her hips, holding her tightly against him, increasing the pressure. She wriggled as he gave her a powerful, burning kiss that robbed her lungs of breath, her limbs of strength.

  Her last sane thought was that he was wrong. She did know him. And she’d known this would happen as soon as he’d stepped back into her life.

  Chapter Nine

  Resistance melted into a shimmering pool of pure longing. April sagged backward against the file cabinets. One of Jesse’s hands slid into her hair; his mouth plundered hers.

  Time lost meaning. She wrapped her hands around his handsome blond head and touched her tongue to his as it thrust in her mouth. She felt the hard pressure of his hips, grinding into hers. She burned inside.

  Her response tamed his ardor. One moment he was loving her for all he was worth, the next he was backing off – in horror, she thought with a sinking heart.

  Jesse yanked his mouth from hers. His heart was slamming like a piston against the softness of her breasts. He drew a breath.

  “Don’t say it.” April beat him to the words, surprising herself by her cold tone.

  Excruciatingly slowly he moved the rest of himself away from her. He seemed at a total loss. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

  “Yes, you were. You were going to apologize. Or blame me somehow. Or ridicule me, I don’t know.” She moved her slim shoulders fatalistically.

  He raked a hand through his hair as if he couldn’t bear the scene.

  He was still far too close. She met his gaze, not because she wanted to, but because it was better than being a coward. Heat shimmered in his eyes. Passion. And self-loathing. “Why don’t you like me?” she asked.

  He almost laughed. “Why do you ask things like that?”

  “Because I want to know. You’ve never liked me. I always thought it was because I was rich. That’s what you said. But it’s something more. It’s me.”

  “No.”

  “Yes,” she insisted, feeling him retreat from her.

  “If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t have kissed you.”

  “You might.”

  His gaze dropped to her lips, swept to the other side of the room, then returned to her eyes. “You’re right. I might.” With that he quickly stepped away from her. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Giving him a scathing look, April turned toward the door. Her hands were shaking badly. She’d had enough of his frustratingly distracting sexuality. Would she ever grow out of this fascination? Apparently not.

  Don’t ever tell him about Eden.

  She almost stumbled, as if the thought carried with it a powerful punch. Icy premonition shot through her veins. If Jesse knew about Eden, he would be a part of her life forever’ if he didn’t, she might survive this dangerous interlude unscathed.

  Maybe.

  “April.”

  His breath whispered against her hair. “What?” she asked, never breaking stride. If she stopped he might bump into her, and after this last scene, who knew what could still happen.

  She was almost at the elevator before he answered. “I don’t think I’ll be around for the next few days. I’m going to study these invoices and take care of several other things at work. Tell Jordan I’ll see him later.”

  She spun slowly on her heel, one hand propped on her hip. “Are you afraid of me, Jesse?”

  “Yes,” he answered promptly. She couldn’t tell if he was serious or mocking her.

  The store was bustling with people. They filled the aisles. Adult hands grabbed at misbehaving children; women’s faces turned expectantly towards the salespeople at the cosmetic counter, their fingers touching the fine leather purses and knitted sweaters.

  April couldn’t understand it. The wind was a fearsome, howling gale outside. Every few minutes the clouds would regather and rain would pummel the ground as if it had been shot from a billion unseen guns. This sky was as black as night, and pedestrians looked as if they could be blown off the face of the earth unless they found shelter.

  Jordan wended his way past a woman with twins in a stroller, each child sleeping with his thumb in his mouth, and stood beside April just inside the main door.

  “The god of commerce and profit has seen fit to bless us today,” said April.

  “Haven’t you heard? There’s so much water on the road, it’s safer to wait this thing out. These people—” he gestured around the glittering floor “– just got off work. Well, most of them,” he admitted, glancing toward the mother with the twins.

  “Are you telling me I should wait? I have to get home, the babysitter—”

  He held up his hand. “Tell the babysitter to hang in there. Can’t she do that? It’s only five thirty.”

  “Babysitters don’t work that way. I told her I’d be home at six. She’s expecting me at six.”

  “So, pay her time and a half. What can you do, anyway? Swim home? I don’t think the BMW has pontoons, unless that’s a new feature this year.”

  It was hard to argue with Jordan. Unlike Jesse, who never failed to make cryptic, infuriating comments, Jordan was a rationalist. “Do you know I’m half in love with you?” she said with a sigh.

  “You’re an incredibly beautiful liar, April. I almost wish it were true. But you and I don’t fit together. And Jesse would cold-bloodedly murder me if I so much as smiled at you the wrong way.”

  “Jesse doesn’t have anything to do with me,” she retorted, furious.

  Jordan actually laughed, squeezed her tightly, then let her go.

  “Jesse comes here to see you, and antagonize me. That’s all. It’s not romantic. It’s painful!”

  “He’s in love with you.”

  His words were so sharp, so crisp that they almost cut. April flinched involuntarily. “You are so wrong.”

  “I never got it, you know – what was happening between you and Jesse back in Rock Springs. I thought he was just playing some game with you, but he wasn’t.”

  “Before you say another word, I’ve got to be honest with you,” April interjected quickly. “Jesse lied about coming to the store to see me. He just wanted you to think that.” The door opened and cold, rain drenched wind whistled inside. Out of t
he corner of one eye April could see a slim, long-legged woman heading their way. “There are other reasons he’s here.”

  “What reasons?”

  “You. He wants to get close to his brother again.” It was a small prevarication; it might even be the truth.

  “Good grief, April. If you’re going to try to convince me of some falsehood, at least make it believable.” Jordan turned and smiled at the newcomer. “Hello, there…”

  April glanced over. It was Tasha again. Raindrops glimmered on the shoulders of her full-length, black wool coat. Her blond hair was half swept back with elegant waves that fell to her shoulders.

  “Hi, April.” Tasha linked one arm through Jordan’s, her eyes smiling up at him.

  “We’re having dinner at Barnaby’s Grill. Join us?” Jordan invited April.

  “No, thanks. I have to get home.”

  “Please, April.” Tasha laid a hand on her arm. “What better way to spend a stormy evening than getting together with old friends? I’d love it.”

  Old friends? April forced herself not to look at Jordan right then; she was sure she would crack up. As it was, she heard him cough discreetly into his hand.

  “Call the sitter,” he urged, grabbing her shoulders and sliding his eyes to her purse where she kept her cell phone.

  April let herself be coerced. In truth, the idea of driving home in this wretched rain held no appeal for her. Though Tasha wasn’t her idea of an “old friend,” April couldn’t deny her yearning for some adult companionship. Come to that, she was swept by nostalgia, too. Was that a leftover of Jesse’s sensual attack the other day?

  After she hung up the phone, she turned and made a face at Jordan.

  “What was that for?” he demanded.

  “For being clairvoyant. It turns out my sitter is anxious for some extra cash. Her mother is renting a movie for her and Eden. Eden was actually yelling in the background, ‘Have a good time, Mom! See you later!’”

  “Who’s Eden?” Tasha asked as Jordan herded them out the door and onto the rain-slick sidewalk.

  “April will tell you all about her over dinner,” Jordan explained. “Come on, let’s run. We’ve got the light.”

  Jesse’s hand was half raised to hail Jordan and April when he recognized the other woman. Tasha? Thunderstruck, he watched the three of them bend their heads and run through the puddled streets, Tasha squealing as the rain flattened her hair.

  His gaze slid to April, whose black hair lay wetly against her nape. Her skin glowed under the blurred light of the street lamps. He was lucky, he supposed, that he’d missed her. Especially considering what he’d learned.

  How was she going to explain her own and Jordan’s initials scrawled across those invoices? Dummy invoices. Invoices used to divert suspicion. Invoices meant to take the place of those whereby inventory came in through one door of Hollis’s and mysteriously floated out another.

  Jesse’s jaw tightened. Normally he could trust his instincts, and they were telling him there was something much deeper, much craftier, going on. Anyone could fake initials.

  The problem was that he couldn’t trust his instincts where April and Jordan were concerned. Not when there was so much at stake. He should have let someone else handle the case, and let the chips fall where they might. He’d been arrogant to think he could compartmentalize his emotions and keep himself detached. But it was too late. He was going down for the third time. He’d checked with the warehouse and uncovered boxes whose top layers were sweaters or scarves or belts, but whose bottom layers were furs, solid gold jewelry and diamonds.

  He hoped he could trust April. He had to find out tonight.

  Barnaby’s was decorated to resemble a London pub; it came complete with crustless sandwiches, pints of ale and a coal burning fire. Rich wine carpet lay beneath cramped wooden tables. Behind the bar, bottles of the finest English ale were stacked in pyramids and reflected thousands of times through the three-sided mirror.

  Jordan, Tasha and April sat down at the carved mahogany bar and ordered drinks. Outside wind and rain lashed impotently at iron-grillwork-covered windows. Inside, Barnaby’s tiny bar glowed like a sparkling gem.

  “So tell me more about this husband of yours,” Tasha began again, one finger delicately tracing the stem of her wine glass. Minus her coat, she looked as ethereal as the blushing, peach-tinted wine she was drinking.

  “Nothing much to tell.” April raised her half pint to her lips.

  “Oh, come on. It must have been a whirlwind affair.”

  “It was,” April answered with irony.

  “April doesn’t like to talk about him,” Jordan said in a tone that was just short of terse. “So drop it, okay?”

  “I was just asking.” Tasha feigned being hurt.

  Through the deceptive warmth the ale had spread inside her, April realized how little Tasha had changed. She was as shallow and undeserving as ever. And even if Jordan didn’t see it, she was coming after him, claws extended, as if for a prized piece of meat. Or was that a meal ticket? April frowned. She was sure the analogy was there if she tried hard enough to find it. The trouble was she felt kind of fuzzy.

  “You okay?” Jordan whispered in her ear.

  “Sure.”

  “You just got kind of quiet.”

  “Excuse me,” Tasha remarked in a chilly voice, sweeping her beaded, black purse from the bar. “I’ll be right back.”

  April watched her weave through the crowd. “You know, I’ve never liked her,” she said matter-of-factly. She swung her attention to Jordan, who was studying his beer as if there were some hidden message in its golden brew. “What do you see in her?’

  “I’d like to know that, too, little brother,” Jesse’s voice drawled behind April head.

  She whipped around. He was just seating himself on the stool next to her, one lean leg nearly brushing hers, his hips sliding onto the tucked, black leather. He smelled like rain. His hair was soaking wet, drips collecting on his temples. Holding her gaze, he ran one hand through that blond pelt. Wet strands slid sinuously over his fingers.

  He was too handsome by far, April thought detachedly, studying those thin, sensual lips. The curve of his jaw was entirely masculine; she was jolted by the insane urge to kiss its shadowed line.

  A restless aching filled her. The way he’d kissed her flooded back into her mind. She jerked her gaze away and stared at her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. She almost missed Jordan’s answer.

  “You never gave Tasha a chance,” he said with a faint smile.

  April wasn’t certain whom he was addressing: herself, or Jesse. Jesse took it to be himself. “I never gave her a chance?” he repeated with a hollow laugh.

  “You always thought she was a rich bitch. You couldn’t stand her by virtue of her bankbook.”

  Jesse didn’t actually glance at her, but April sensed a heightened awareness, as if Jordan’s comment had been directed at her.

  “All I know is, you hung around her like a lovesick dog.” Jesse signaled the bartender, who raised his brows quizzically while he wiped dry a glass. “Whatever they’re having.” He hooked a thumb at Jordan and April.

  A strange relief slipped over April. It had been Jordan who’d been interested in Tasha in high school; Jordan who had created Jesse’s aversion to Tasha; Jordan who had longed for a Windsor Estates girl. April hadn’t even realized she’d cared until this moment. No wonder Jesse had been so cold and derogatory. He hadn’t wanted to suffer the same fate as his brother.

  But he had, hadn’t he?

  April buried her nose in her mug as Tasha whisked by. Her hand trailed along Jordan’s sleeve as she scooted onto her stool next to him. “Hello… Jesse, isn’t it?” Her tone was careful.

  Nothing changed in Jesse’s expression. “That’s right.”

  “You and Jordan are related?” She looked to Jordan for confirmation.

  “Brothers,” Jordan said shortly.

  “Tell her the truth, Jordan. We’re ha
lf brothers. He’s only tainted with part of my blood.” Jesse smiled.

  “What kind of comment is that?” Tasha asked with a laugh. A bit nervously, April thought.

  “The truth, darlin’.” Jesse shrugged, ignoring Jordan’s black look.

  Hoping to defuse the situation, April made the supreme mistake of dropping a hand onto Jesse’s arm. It was like blowing a whistle in a silent room. Everyone gaze jerked toward her in surprise. “I’ve got to get going,” she said. “Would you mind walking me back?”

  Jesse downed the rest of his beer, tossed some change on to the counter and took April’s arm before Tasha had time to close her mouth.

  They walked outside, listening to the rain pound against the gray- and black-striped awning over Barnaby’s front doors. Neither spoke. A smile lurked on Jesse’s lips.

  “What?” April asked a trifle irritably, after a long moment.

  “You. You don’t have to protect Jordan. If he wants Tasha, he’s got to learn to take the heat.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she huffed, stepping into the rain.

  “Hah.” He followed after her, clasping her hand, making her run to the corner.

  Water flooded over the curb, soaking her toes. She could imagine the black dye spreading onto her stockings and discoloring her feet. Longingly she thought of a warm bath.

  “Jordan says the roads were flooding. Think I can get home yet?” she asked.

  “No. Ready to take the plunge?”

  There was nothing else to do. April slipped off her shoes; heaven only knows why, she thought, since they were sopping wet, anyway. She held them in one hand, still clasping Jesse’s warm palm with the other, and stepped off the curb.

  With a shriek of laughter she sank to midcalf. “It’s cold!”

  “Come on.” Grinning like a pirate he pulled her across the street, half jumping, half sloshing through the water. The roads were empty; no people, just forlorn, abandoned cars with gushing rainwater circling their bumpers.

  April was laughing as they hurried down the concrete ramp of the car park. “Do I look as drowned as I feel?”