Before Claire could even wrap her mind around what was being offered, Jack stepped forward. “Margot, we should talk about this.”
Margot shook her head. “No. This is my sphere, Jack. I don’t need your permission to offer Claire a job. She’s good.”
“I know,” Jack argued. “But—”
“She tracked you after the meeting yesterday,” Margot interrupted. “I left her with the computer for thirty minutes with access to the traffic cameras, and she was able to track you.” She turned to face Claire, a glint in her eye. “Computer software can’t track Jack between locations with all the precautions he takes, but you did. How?”
Claire felt her face flush with embarrassment when she realized all eyes were on her. “I, uh, his shoes,” she finally managed to say, her mind recalling the thumbnails that had popped up when she did the search. “He changed his clothes, but not his shoes.”
Margot smiled like a proud parent before facing Jack. “You see? You changed 95% of your appearance, and she was able to track the 5% that didn’t change. I can’t let someone like that go, Jack. Not if I can help it.” Then the most terrifying woman Claire had ever met looked her in the eye. “A woman like you can do a lot of things with her talents, Claire. You have options. Lots of them. But I promise that working with me will challenge you every day for the rest of your life. You’ll love every second of it.”
“I’ll…consider it,” Claire managed, sending a searching look Jack’s direction. He didn’t meet her eyes. “But if Jack doesn’t want me to—”
“No,” he said quickly. “Do what’s right for you. If what Margot does intrigues you, then who am I to tell you what path to take in life?”
His answer left Claire feeling like she was in a field with red flags popping up like dandelions. He was using distancing language, as if what she did didn’t matter to him. The thing was, she wanted her actions to matter to him.
“Well, if you don’t want me around…”
Jack waved that off. “I’m in Vegas once a year, if that. It’s Margot you’ll be working with, and she does everything I need remotely whenever I need her.”
And there it was, Claire realized. Jack was leaving. That’s why he was being so distant. Part of Claire had assumed he lived in Vegas since that’s where he’d been since the day she met him. But of course he moved around. It made sense. It was a big world out there, and a man like Jack would travel to all parts of it.
“I see,” Claire said when she realized that everyone was once again watching her.
“But my original advice stands,” he said, looking more at Margot than at her. “Try not to make any decisions until the new year.”
“That’s when the new semester begins anyway,” Margot replied, completely unfazed even as her eyes watched Claire expectantly.
Claire had kind of been hoping that the night would end with Jack making her an offer, so getting one from Margot instead was a bit of a blindside. What was she supposed to say?
“Could I get a write-up of what the internship would entail and what I can expect to learn?”
Margot nodded. “You’ll have it by Monday.”
Wow. Okay. “Thank you.”
Claire looked at Jack, feeling a little lost, and almost sighed in relief when he smiled down at her.
“Walk me out?” he asked.
Her sigh of relief froze in her lungs. Out? Out where? How far out? “Sure.”
He gestured toward the hall and they both walked out…not touching. She didn’t say anything as they headed to the elevators, and neither did he. Not until they arrived and he turned to face her.
“I hate that I have to fly out tonight, but I also think it might be for the best.”
Part of Claire wanted to punch him while another part wanted to kiss him until he stayed. She did neither. Instead, she spoke with more composure than she ever would have guessed she had. “Where are you going?”
His eyes twinkled a little. “Something very valuable has been stolen. I’m going to steal it back, and the longer I wait, the harder it will be. Stealing something in transit is always easier than stealing it out of a vault.”
Claire chewed on her lip, considering that. “So this is your life? You travel around doing things like you did with me every day?”
“Well, usually it doesn’t take me as long as it took with you,” he said, resting his hand on her shoulder. The simple touch had sparks shooting down to her feet, but when she looked up at Jack he didn’t seem to be feeling what she was feeling.
“So what was different in my case?” she asked.
He studied her for a moment. “I wanted to save you from getting a criminal record if I could.” His thumb rubbed lightly over her collarbone. “And I’m glad I did. You’re amazing, Claire. And I’m glad that you have a clean slate to go do whatever you want to do in life without any criminal baggage to weigh you down. That alone was worth the extra time.”
It was a nice answer. Not the answer she wanted, but a nice one.
He pointed to her hand. “Can I see that deck of cards?”
“Sure,” Claire said, surprised she hadn’t looked at them yet.
Jack shuffled them twice before fanning them out in front of her. “Pick a card, any card.”
She was not in the mood. “Seriously? Now?”
He nodded.
The first time Claire had gone for the card on the far left. The second time she’d chosen randomly from the center. In the name of balance, she chose the card on the right this time. When she flipped it over, there was a phone number on the other side.
“That’s my number,” he said. “I want you to use it if there’s ever a moment you need to talk to someone or work something out. I know I need to leave now, but please don’t think you’re just another case to me, Claire. I do care. And if there’s anything I can do to help you just let me know. I’ll do anything I can.”
She nodded mutely, not knowing what to say. He was brushing her off. He was doing it very nicely, but he was definitely brushing her off. He’d gone from the guy who was her best friend, to the guy who taught her how to kiss, to the guy who showed her the meaning of trust, to the guy who made the most powerful people in Claire’s life look like toddlers on ice when they fought against him. Now he was the guy who was giving her a pat on the head before moving on.
Any why shouldn’t he? Jack was amazing by any standards. What woman wouldn’t want him? And why, out of all of those women to choose from, would Jack choose her?
He wouldn’t.
So he was patting her on the head and leaving his number before sprinting out of town to go meet up with some woman who actually knew how to kiss a man. And more.
“Stupid,” she muttered to herself.
“What?”
Whoops. Claire plastered a smile on her face and looked up at Jack. “Thank you,” she said more loudly. “I really appreciate it, and I’ll definitely give you a call if I need an ear.”
He flinched as if something she’d said offended him. Then he returned to normal. “Good. And I meant what I said about big moves. Right now it’s too easy to ride a high or low into a decision you may not be able to live with in a month or so. Feel everything you need to feel, but let things like Margot’s offer simmer a bit and see if you still want it after the buzz has worn off. If the desire to move forward is still there, then go for it. The real stuff won’t fade away. The other stuff will.”
She felt like she was being lectured by a parent and almost said as much when the elevator dinged behind her. When it opened, Nate stood on the other side and smiled at the two of them wearing a suit with a black tie.
“Hey there,” he said, flashing his perfect smile at Claire as he stepped out of the elevator. “Long time no see.”
“Yeah,” she said, realizing that Nate’s suit paired with Margot’s cocktail dress perfectly. She sent Jack a confused look. Margot and Nate? Dating? Something about that didn’t compute.
“She’s in the conference room,�
� Jack said, clearly aware of why Nate was there.
“Then I’ll head that way before I earn a lecture for being late,” Nate said, taking Claire’s empty hand in both of his and raising it to press a kiss against the back of it. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Claire.”
“Thanks…for arresting my parents today.”
Nate threw his head back and laughed. “Those are words you only hear once in your life.”
She shrugged. “I really appreciate that I’m not a captive on a plane somewhere right now, and that’s thanks to you.”
“But mostly my brother here,” Nate said, slapping Jack on the shoulder. “He blackmailed your dad into inviting us onto the plane before it took off in New York, which made our arrest legit when we landed here. Jack rolled out the red carpet. I just walked it.”
She still hadn’t heard the whole story of how Jack did that. Jack should tell her. He shouldn’t be getting on a plane and running away only a few hours after everything blew up here. He should stay the night…answer her questions…tell her his secrets.
Instead, Jack stepped into the elevator. “Call me,” he said. “For any reason.”
Stay. Just another day. That’s what Claire wanted to say, but she knew what the answer was so she held her tongue.
“Have a safe flight,” Nate said, then walked down the hall to find Margot.
Jack pressed the button for the lobby. “Take care of yourself, Claire. I’ll be cheering for you.”
Then the doors closed and he was gone.
Epilogue
Three Months Later
Claire took Jack’s advice. She let the dust settle.
For the two weeks between when Jack left and Thanksgiving arrived, Claire watched as everyone around her made their moves and settled back into a rhythm. Then she’d look around at her new scenery and she asked herself what, if anything, she could live with anymore.
When she couldn’t live with something, it was amazing how often plummeting satellites factored into her decisions of how to respond—like when Finn and her mother told her that she couldn’t tell her father or her brothers that Finn was her biological father. At first, Claire had been distraught about yet another secret. Then she’d thought about the satellite, made three copies of the paternity test and overnighted them to her brothers and her dad.
The result?
There had been about twenty-four hours of annoyed discussion before everyone in her family shrugged and let the detail go. Having Finn around meant all the Ramseys saw Natasha less often. All the men in the family approved of that, so the verdict was that Finn should stay where he was. Everyone acted the same around him, except Claire. After everything that had happened, she wasn’t ready for anything but some solid distance between them.
Maybe someday she’d sit down and talk things out with Finn, but not yet. Now while everything was still so raw.
Just like her family wouldn’t let something like the fact that Claire’s father was her brother’s best friend ruin anything, they also weren’t about to let what happened in Vegas get in the way of putting in all the proper appearances on the holiday party circuit. When Claire’s parents informed her that they expected her to be present for the usual holiday schedule back in New York—seventeen parties between Thanksgiving and New Years—Claire’s first instinct had been to refuse and stay in Las Vegas.
But did she want a plummeting satellite to find her hiding and feeling sorry for herself in Las Vegas over Christmas while her parents spread lies about her in New York?
Absolutely not.
So Claire had gone to every party, looked her parents in the eye, and then left them to go talk to everyone.
It wasn’t hard to find people to talk to. When it came to her mother’s arrest and the circumstances behind it, there wasn’t a disinterested ear in the room. When people asked questions, Claire answered them—in “confidence,” of course. The type of confidence where everything would be repeated, just not in front of her parents or her family. Because that’s how her parents’ circle worked. It was how Claire’s parents worked. And from Thanksgiving to New Years Eve, for better or for worse, it was how Claire worked.
It was only after Claire told her tale that people started whispering back a name she’d never heard before: Pimpernel.
Everyone wanted to know if she’d met him, but Claire stuck to the story Jack’s FBI brother had given her on their drive before she gave her official statement back in Vegas. It was the same story Claire had told her parents when they drilled her for information—a man had left her a card with a blue flower on it. On that card was a request paired with a promise. If Claire gave back the money her mother had stolen, she’d be protected. And she had been.
That’s what she told everyone.
It seemed far too flimsy a story to fly with people as sophisticated as Claire’s parents and their affluent circle, but Claire’s father had bought it without blinking. So had the holiday season party goers. They ate up her story with wide eyes and piteous looks cast at her parents—especially her mom.
No one who knew anything about anything wanted to do business with someone who had pissed off the Pimpernel. Claire’s dad would be stuck with the small fish for the rest of his life when it came to real estate, and her mother was going to have a very bad new year when it came to party invites, although everyone assured Claire that she wasn’t on the blacklist. She’d been smart to do as instructed, they said, before sharing stories from their family line about the Pimpernel.
“My great-great-great-grandfather was a peasant who loved a lady above his station back in England,” one lady said, who’d had about three drinks too many. “The Pimpernel saw to it that he received a large inheritance that made him an acceptable suitor to the lady. In exchange, the Pimpernel built a small cottage on the back of my great-great-great-grandfather’s property to be used as needed. No questions asked. It still stands to this day, and no one is allowed to live in it. They say the Pimpernel still uses it from time to time.”
Another man needed no alcohol at all to tell his story. “My father went to a party where a man bragged about this massive diamond he had just brought back from Africa. The guy laughed that a desperate mother had traded the priceless gem for the equivalent of a hundred dollars to feed her children. When he went to retrieve the diamond out of the display case, my dad said there was nothing in the case but a business card with a flower on it. The next day all the man’s creditors all called in their debts. He had to declare bankruptcy and could never find lenders to finance his businesses again. He ended up working at a Brookstone in a mall somewhere. I think he’s still there.”
Half a dozen people knew a slightly different version of the same story. “My great-grandfather’s uncle challenged the Pimpernel to a duel and the Pimpernel stripped him naked with his sword in Hyde Park. The Pimpernel declared that no one should clothe him or provide the man transportation home and the crowd gladly obliged. This man was a rake who apparently had a reputation for stealing virtue, and the city was all too happy to give him a walk of shame.”
Even the arch enemy of Claire’s mother was all too happy to tell her own tale. “Did you see the Pimpernel? If so, the jewels in his signet ring belong to my great-great-grandmother. She caught the Pimpernel helping an abused servant escape through the library during a party in London and demanded a kiss in exchange for her silence. The Pimpernel told her to close her eyes so she couldn’t see his face, then kissed her. My great-great-grandmother was so smitten that she gifted the Pimpernel her ring in hopes that she would see it again and know the man who had taught her what a kiss was. She didn’t see the jewels until decades later, on the signet ring of a young, handsome man.”
Stories about people kissing the Pimpernel always got a little bit of a rise out of Claire’s cheeks, although she hoped her makeup hid that fact.
The man who taught her what a kiss was, the woman had said. That must be a generational thing because Jack had definitely done that for her.
The dust might be mostly settled in Claire’s life, but the thought of seeing Jack still made her heart pound. Thoughts of kissing him weren’t linked to feelings of adrenaline and being chased like she thought they might be. Her feelings were more akin to the sun breaking through clouds after a storm. Warm and hopeful and happy…until she remembered he was gone and probably kissing someone else, if that’s what served his current agenda.
Those thoughts left Claire feeling muddy and a bit sick.
So, in an effort to even things out, Claire kissed other men.
It was the holidays and mistletoe abounded. Why fight custom? While she was at it, why avoid standing right beneath it? And why avoid the invitation of Aaron, a childhood friend, to extend their brief mistletoe kiss in the private study?
If a satellite came crashing down on that holiday party, would Claire want to be left with the question that she only felt the way she did about Jack because he was the only man she’d really let kiss her?
No way.
So she’d kissed Aaron. A lot.
“Wow,” he’d said when she forced them apart. “This last year really changed you, didn’t it? Your parents screwing you over like they did? You were always so shy before—a total wallflower. I would have never imagined you could kiss like this.”
The Pimpernel taught me, Claire had thought bitterly before excusing herself to touch up her makeup.
Yes, the Pimpernel had taught her to kiss, but she’d missed the lesson where she learned how to feel the same way with other men—men like Aaron, who were nice and all, but left her feeling like there were better things to do with her time.
She’d never felt like that with Jack. Every time their lips touched, it had felt like the best idea—the only idea—on the planet. Since he’d left her it felt like Claire had developed a permanent bruise in the middle of her chest that took a light thumping every time her heart beat. The result was a constant light ache that she never really got used to, even while she was smiling at parties.
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