A Lover's Secret

by Bloom, Bethany

  “It was just my way of trying to get you to lighten up.”

  “That’s not your job.”

  “But you looked so serious.” His laugh was loose and rollicking.

  She opened her mouth to say something, closed it again.

  “Look, I’m sorry.” Jake’s eyes met hers. They were brown and kind and oddly familiar. “I came here to ask you to have dinner with me, Jess. That’s why I flew here. That’s why I came to the wedding. Because I knew you would be here. I absolutely had to see you.”

  Jess felt a rising deep, deep within her, and her legs went weak. Her voice, when she found it, was tight and quiet. “Why? We haven’t spoken in years.”

  Jake shrugged. “It was kind of….serendipity.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms. What was his angle here?

  “Or something like that.” He flashed that grin at her, and she had to look away.

  “I mean,” he went on, “surely you realize that you are ‘The Girl from the Hallway.’”

  “Pardon?”

  “You haven’t read my book?” Jake’s voice fell in pitch, and he stared at her, incredulous.

  “No.” She pressed her lips together. “Believe it or not.” The arrogance of this guy…

  “Read it. Please. You’ll understand if you do.”

  Her throat clutched, and she forced herself to shrug, to look nonchalant.

  “Just…read it. And then have dinner with me.”

  She turned from him and kept walking.

  “Life’s too short to play hard to get, Madigan.”

  “I’m not playing hard to get,” she shouted, not turning and not slowing down. Who did this guy think he was? “I’m not playing anything.” The lump in her throat widened, and all she wanted was to get out of the church before the tears began to flow.

  His footsteps were coming fast behind her now, and her heart began to race. His hand, strong and smooth, squeezed her bare shoulder and forced her to turn. Was he going to do it again? Shove her against the wall? Here? In the church? Her heart was racing now and she felt a tingling sensation, straight in her center.

  Jake stared at her a moment and she felt his breath hot on her face. Her eyes locked on his and she saw something in there. Something new. Something hooded, mysterious, perhaps even ominous. A desperation.

  Jess pulled away, instinctively, and his gaze snapped to the ground. He rubbed at the back of his neck. Then he extracted a business card from his suit coat. He held it between two outstretched fingers, which trembled slightly. When she didn’t take it, he tucked it solidly into the waistband of her dress. Feeling his hand there, her stomach dropped and she fought to control her breathing.

  “Just… call me,” he said.

  Jess stood staring at him. She was fantasizing, suddenly, about pushing him down, right there in the hallway. Of sitting astride him, of feeling his body beneath hers and then bending to kiss him. To toss her hair over his face and to feel his lips against hers…

  For crying out loud, they were in a church. What was happening to her?

  “Just read my book,” he said. “You’ll call me. You’ll change your mind.” And then he turned, and he was gone, leaving her standing there, her chest heaving, tears burning the back of her eyes.

  She was just regaining control of her breathing when Monica’s voice boomed from the adjoining coatroom. “You are ‘The Girl from the Hallway,’ Jess? You?”

  ***

  Jake

  He’d seen her again. She’d been standing by the gifts when he had arrived. Her breasts straining against the fabric of her dress. Her posture so perfect, and she so tiny, and, instantly, he imagined himself picking her up, cradling her like a bride over the threshold, and walking off with her, taking her wherever he liked. Her lips, perfectly arched and rosy red. He imagined them swollen, pressing against his own, trailing down his chest, her breath hot as she showered him with tiny, perfect kisses.

  There was no ring on her finger. His heart leapt and he wondered how all the men in the reception hall were able to hold themselves back. How were they not following her around, wanting to tear her clothes off?

  Clearly, the tomato thing had been a bad idea. She hadn’t liked that at all, and, admittedly, he hadn’t thought it through. He had simply seen her there and then some part of him reacted…apparently, the stupid schoolboy part. It was as though the mere sight of her body, with its exquisite curves and its porcelain skin, had made him regress.

  His breath fluttered in his chest. He knew he could have just about any woman he wanted. But her. It had always been her. When his book had hit the bestseller list, it was his first thought. Now, now, he could go to her, he had fantasized. Now, he might be good enough to win the heart of Jess Madigan. But this was followed, instantly, by the realization that he most certainly could not. She deserved better. He could never bring anyone into his messed-up world. The world where there was no hope. For a long time, the knowledge kept him from looking for her, from seeking her out.

  But then, last week, he had been having one of his bad days. He had retreated to the beach to catch up on some business, perhaps do a little writing. But he found the loneliness, the despair, the knowledge of what was to come; it was all too much for him suddenly. A chill rattled through him and every breath clutched and strangled. He stared at the water, the undulating endlessness of the waves, the way each turned green as it crested, then slapped at the shore, dragging along tangled strands of kelp and the power to choke everything in its path. That’s when Jake turned his head skyward and asked for relief. Something, anything, to ease his suffering.

  It was the closest he had ever come to prayer, and Please, God, was as far as he had gotten when the sun suddenly blared from behind a cloud. The abrupt radiance stung his eyes and he lowered his head to stare out toward the horizon, but his vision was met then with ten thousand points of light, each wave, as far as he could see, winking the brightness back into his eyes. He lowered his head again, this time to focus on the black confines of his satchel. He stared down into it until his eyes stopped burning, and that’s when he saw it. The day’s bundle of letters from his assistant. Generally, this was fan mail, invitations, propositions. But today, on the top of the stack, was a familiar name from a familiar town. An invitation to an event that he knew Jess Madigan would never, ever miss.

  And so, here he was, due to a moment of serendipity. A momentary lapse of reason. A fleeting impression of faith. Remembering it, he scoffed. His sign from God, he realized now, was nothing more than the sun peeking from behind a bit of mist. But he had booked his flight, just like that. That very moment.

  The whole thing had been impulsive, spontaneous. The way he taught others to be, but never thought he could be toward Jess. For her sake. And for his own.

  Just now, seeing the way she had sashayed away from him, he thought that maybe Elizabeth had been right. Maybe this was a mistake of magnificent proportions. But to see her now. To see Jess Madigan, just like in his dreams, only better. Sexier.

  He had to have her. It might be a tremendous mistake, yes. Certainly, it might be the worst mistake of Jess’s life. But Jake was tired of thinking about everyone else. He needed her. No one else would do.

  ***

  Jess

  Jess’s mind reeled. What was all this “Girl from the Hallway” nonsense? Monica had refused to tell her. And his conceit: “You’ll call me. You’ll change your mind.” Ick. When he had said that, she wanted to push him. To drive him from her. Then she wondered what it might feel like to thrust as hard as she could against him. To feel the fabric of his shirt under her fingertips, the pulse of his body, its warmth against her bare, powerful hands.

  Her legs quivered for a moment as she stood at the back of the reception hall, trying to call very little attention to herself and wondering whether anyone would notice if she simply disappeared. Right out the back door.

  She could still feel his business card in the waistband of her dress. Her stoma
ch leapt when she remembered him pressing it in there. She looked down to avoid searching for Jake among the guests.

  “Hey sista.”

  Jess’s head snapped up. Kelly, the bride, was standing next to her, her arms crossed and her face pinched. “Hi… er, sister.” Jess replied.

  Kelly held her arms out wide and Jess leaned in to give her an awkward hug. When she drew back, Kelly’s mouth pushed to one side, and she studied Jess’s face.

  “So, are the rumors true?”

  “Rumors?” Which rumors: her failure as a student, or as a doctor, a sister, a bridesmaid, or a warm-blooded female?

  “Did Jake Lassiter ask you out, and you said ‘no.’?” Ah. Her failure as a warm-blooded female.

  “He didn’t ask me out.”

  “Jake says he asked you to dinner, and you said ‘no.’”

  “Well, I suppose he did. In a manner of speaking.”

  “Did you hate him back in high school?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have a husband I don’t know about?”

  “Of course not.”

  “So you’re….”

  “What?”

  “Gay?”

  “No.”

  “I’m just trying like hell to figure out why you would turn him down.”

  “Maybe he’s not my type.”

  “Not your type? The gazillionaire-hot-as-all-hell-happy-smiling-fun-guy is not your cup of tea?”

  Jess made a face.

  “I’d love to know your type,” Kelly continued, “Because that man, my dear, is perfection. Body and soul. His wisdom is tattooed in my memory. It made me the person I am.”

  “Wow.”

  “So…” Kelly laughed. “What the hell is your problem?”

  What was her problem? She thought fast. “I think Monica likes him. I wouldn’t tread on that.”

  “Well, did you know that Monica just threw herself at him in the coatroom?”

  So that’s what she had been doing back there.

  “It’s true,” Kelly went on. “She somehow arranged it so that he went in there to get something for someone, and then, out she popped, without her dress on.”

  “Oh wow.” Jess’s hand flew to her mouth. “In the church?”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  “So what did Jake do?”

  Kelly stared at her. “Well, according to him, he laughed and then he covered his eyes with his hands, and he took off his suit jacket and he gave it to her. And then…” She paused and bugged her eyes out at Jess. “He told her to respect herself.”

  Monica must have been humiliated. Beyond humiliated. But that really was something.

  “Jess, seriously, how long has it been since you’ve wished some guy would tell Monica that? I haven’t known her as long as you, but I’ve wished it since I met her.”

  Jess couldn’t help laughing. Kelly placed her hands on Jess’s shoulders and pantomimed shaking her. “Just have dinner with the man, for the love of all that is good and decent.”

  “Well,” Jess said, drawing the word out. “I do think he has a girlfriend.”

  “I don’t know anything about that.” Kelly folded her arms once again. “I’m not asking you to sleep with him. Just go have a cup of coffee. It would be your wedding present to me. That’s all I want.”

  Jess didn’t answer.

  “He’s staying at the Ritz.” Kelly’s voice took on a singsong tone. “He’s probably lon-e-ly…”

  “He isn’t staying with his family?”

  “No. I guess his family sort of vanished from town. Shortly after graduation. So, it’s just him here now. See, he’s sure to be lonely. In need of some companionship.”

  How could she tell Kelly the real reason she didn’t want to go out with Jake Lassiter? The truth was, she had never been with a man, and, at the age of twenty-six, as the mystique built, so did the shame, and the fear. The fear of being exposed. The fear of not knowing what to do. It was embarrassing, sure, but the idea of being so intimate with a man, of being naked, of showing him all of her, inside and out, it terrified her. And for a man whose life was all about “fast and free.” A man who could laugh at her and then write all about her and her….foibles in his next book. Oh mercy, no.

  Besides, most of what she knew about love and sex she had learned from Monica and from television, and so she knew that men wanted one thing, and it was a thing she knew nothing about. The older she got, the more she feared that if she unleashed that side of her, there would be no going back. She would be unzipped. And she’d have an even harder time getting these images out of her head. These images that kept popping into her mind, uninvited, and with even greater frequency since she’d heard the words “Jake Lassiter” once again.

  She remembered, then, something Andrew had told his friend in high school. His friend was confiding in them and asking if he should lose his virginity to his girlfriend, and seventeen-year-old Andrew had said, “Well, let me just warn you that, once you do it, you’re going to want to do it a lot. An awful lot.”

  They had all laughed then, but now it was nine years later, and it wasn’t so funny. Jess still knew nothing about sex, and she still avoided anything that gave her a hint of sexuality. She avoided anything lurid or lusty. She even stayed away from romance novels and R-rated movies because the love scenes created a twisting intensity in the base of her. They made her breathless and then she didn’t know what to do with herself.

  She voiced none of these thoughts, but still Kelly stared at her. Then Kelly blinked hard and said, “Oh Jess, I guess what everyone says about you is true. You are sort of weird.”

  ***

  Weird Jess. What would Jake Lassiter want with Weird Jess? Maybe she had always been Weird Jess. She thought of the men who had been interested in her, the ones she had more or less ignored. The perfectly nice men she had left, confused, wondering what they had done wrong.

  She had to get out there. Out of the church and away from the toasts and the couples with their faces pressed against one another, their bodies swaying on the dance floor. All the…togetherness. She pushed her way out the front door. Just for a moment. Just so she could breathe.

  She would walk, just around the block. The wind picked up and the spring air bit into her skin. She felt her nipples hard against her bra, against her dress, and she rubbed at her bare arms. Why couldn’t people just leave her alone? That’s all she wanted, really. A car roared by and a man hung his head out the passenger window and shouted something. Something unintelligible. She must have looked ridiculous, walking along on the side of the road in high heels and the tightest mint green satin.

  She could feel the wind blowing the dress against her. She looked down and regarded the silhouette of her own body. The way her breasts pushed against the fabric. The soft barely-there, feminine mound of her stomach. She drew her gauzy scarf around her shoulders and continued to walk, faster now.

  Her feet were beginning to pound. The left pad of her foot was almost numb, and she thought about taking off her shoes. Of swinging them in her hands. Of feeling the earth on her feet as she strode along the sidewalk. The tiny rocks digging into the fleshy part of her foot. The sole, her heels. Tiny twinges of pain.

  What was wrong with her? Was it seeing him again, after so long? After so many years of remembering that kiss. Even now, imagining it, a wave of warmth coursed through her. All she had to do to make that feeling go away was to remember his arrogance. “You’ll call. You’ll change your mind.” He was so sure of himself. Like every woman he met was a sure thing. But there was nothing sure about her. Jake Lassiter had never met a woman like her, Jess thought with a laugh. That was a certainty. No one so confused, so inexperienced, so utterly lame at the game of life.

  A burst of wind sent a shiver down her back. She thought about going back to the church. She knew she really should. The bride and groom hadn’t even left yet. She hadn’t thrown the birdseed. But, here, in front of her, was that coffee shop. The one she had loved escapin
g into with her father as a child. It was always just the two of them. They would read the newspaper together on Sundays, after church. Or they would just sit and talk. His favorite thing to discuss, always, had been the variety of amazing things she would accomplish with her life. The diseases she would find a cure for. The honors she would accumulate. The good she would do with her logical yet nurturing brain. One time, her father had even asked her to autograph his napkin, because, he said, it would be worth so much once she had won her Nobel Prize.

  The last thing she ever wanted to do was to disappoint him. Now, since she’d come home, her father could hardly bring himself to look at her. He could hardly be in the same room with her. She shivered again and found herself pulling open the glass door.

  The café smelled exactly the way she remembered it. Like amaretto and waffle cones, melding with the bitter scent of Dark Roast Espresso, so strong it seemed to throb. The place was empty, and a slow beat churned from the speakers behind the counter.

  A tall Jamaican man at the cash register gathered his long black dreadlocks in his hand, moving them behind his shoulders, and then he smiled. “Am I missing the party?” he asked.

  “Pardon?”

  “You aren’t dressed for a solo coffee run.”

  “Oh. Yes. I’m just taking a little break from a wedding.”

  “Ah. That explains it. So what will you have, pretty lady?”

  Jess blushed. “Coffee. Black.” She looked at his deep ebony skin, and she worried that perhaps he would think she was addressing him, so she said, quickly, “I mean, with no sugar or creamer, please.”

  He laughed, low, and his eyes flashed. “I have a nip of something back here if you want it.”

  A nip of something? What did he say? Was her nip showing? “Pardon?” she said again, wishing that being alone with a man didn’t always make her so ridiculously nervous.

  “A jigger of something harder. Some Irish cream or some Butterscotch Schnapps, maybe? No extra charge, as long as it’s our little secret, and as long as I get to sit and drink it with you.”

  “No, no thanks. A little coffee is fine. Black. I mean no cream or sugar.”