Her Secret Love

by Paula Altenburg

  He kept his touch light—his knees on her hips, his hand in her hair—and let his tongue do the talking. He teased her lips into parting. Then, with gentle persistence, he slid it into her mouth. The taste of sugar exploded around him. She edged her hips closer, snuggling into his groin, all soft and sweet. He silently begged his stiffening erection to keep its thoughts to itself.

  And then, when she’d softened against him, returning his kiss with a matching enthusiasm, he forced himself to draw back. This wasn’t about having sex on the desk in his office. He was testing the waters. He examined her face, all flushed and pretty and thoroughly kissed. He read bemusement. A touch of excitement. And something that wasn’t quite what he’d hoped for.

  He’d gotten her breathless. Willing, he wasn’t as sure of.

  Not if he was reading her right.

  “Twice now, I’ve kissed you. And this is the second time it’s made you look sad. What am I doing wrong?”

  Her gaze held steady on his. Her thoughts, however, remained a mystery him. “I lost someone important to me.”

  “You loved him,” Damon said. It was a wild guess. A stab in the dark.

  And, as it turned out, more accurate than he really wanted to know.

  “Very much.” She seemed to be struggling with what she was trying to say, or possibly how much she was willing to share. “If I don’t remember him, no one will. And he deserved better.”

  “Was that the reason you left California? Because he passed away?”

  She shrugged her shoulders, neither a yes nor a no, but it was all the answer he needed. Like everyone else, he’d assumed she’d been abandoned—that the rich guy she’d been involved with had gotten tired of entertaining an expensive, much younger woman and tossed her aside. He’d never once guessed her…whatever he’d been…might have died.

  While he wasn’t quite progressive enough to get his head around their relationship, he knew that Jess cared about the people who mattered in her life. She cared a lot. And in her dysfunctional way, she had to be grieving.

  He knew what it was like to lose someone important.

  “You,” he said, twisting the curly tip of her soggy ponytail around the end of his finger and tugging on it, “are a hot mess of a woman.”

  The light in her eyes flickered back on, although perhaps not as bright as before. “I’ve been here a month and you’re just now figuring that out?”

  He wrapped his arms around her and held her, offering what little comfort he dared and as much as she was likely to accept. His heart ached a little bit for himself, but mostly for her. When her arms crept around his waist, hugging him back, he rested his cheek on the crown of her hair.

  An overwhelming relief flooded through his whole body, displacing any disappointment he might feel over her having loved someone else. He’d missed having her as a part of his life. Friendship, he figured he could handle. When he looked back, he’d missed that the most. Whatever had gone wrong between them ten years ago, it no longer mattered. He hadn’t forgotten. He wasn’t ready to forgive. He was, however, prepared to shoulder some of the blame.

  He only wished he knew what he’d done wrong.

  “Princess,” he said, “I’ve known you since you were twelve or thirteen. Even back then you had a head start in the hot mess department.” He dropped his voice to a low, soothing whisper. “For what it’s worth though, I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered back.

  Chapter Eight

  ‡

  I’m sorry for your loss.

  Those were words Jess had sorely needed to hear, offering an affirmation that she was capable of having real feelings for someone other than herself. And the validation came from Damon, who had more reason than anyone to think her incapable of them.

  She’d wanted so badly to pursue wherever his kisses might lead. She couldn’t do it, however. He’d kissed her in an unwilling, I can’t seem to help myself, frustrated way. He didn’t trust her. He had no reason to yet. They were slowly repairing a badly damaged friendship and she wasn’t about to do anything to upset that progress. She didn’t want Damon to keep on hating her for the rest of their lives.

  Friendship came first.

  But those kind words—I’m sorry for your loss—made the next few weeks easier to bear.

  Most of Cherry Lake seemed determined to drop by and enjoy just how far Jess had fallen. When she thought of having to survive the reminiscing—some well-intentioned, some not—until November, her acting skills threatened to abandon her.

  So instead of four and a half months, she focused on surviving one week at a time.

  She’d moved in with Carrie, which was working out better than she could have hoped. Her grandfather had been right—although they didn’t need each other as much as they both needed not to be so alone. Carrie had been too distracted of late to take much notice of anyone else’s problems. Jess hoped it had more to do with Tall, Dark and Dangerous, the guy she’d been hanging around with, than those photos she was obsessing about.

  Her grandfather had also been right that making peace with Damon would go a long way. It helped knowing her efforts to remain positive were appreciated by him, at least. And to be fair, Lilian was always nice to her. So was Emma, the few times she’d been in. Not to mention, Montana was beautiful in the summer.

  Overall, Jess had very little reason to complain. Things could have been worse.

  She was sweeping the customer service floor when worse walked in the door.

  It was close to the end of her shift and she was alone. Damon had run to Missoula for a meeting at the art gallery about his show in September, where they were deciding what pieces he was going to exhibit. Aaron had the night off so she’d offered to stay.

  “Hey,” Tony said, looking around. “Where’s Damon?”

  No way was Jess letting on she was here all alone. She didn’t like Tony any better now than she had when she’d first met him. He was too smooth. Too friendly. Too sure of his appeal.

  Too afraid he might be losing it.

  He was one of those men who felt he had something to prove.

  A quick peek at her watch told her Damon was fifteen minutes overdue. “He’ll be back any minute.”

  “Then I’ll wait for him.” Tony walked around the end of the counter and took a seat on the stool, acting as if he had every right.

  She bit her tongue and went back to her sweeping. She had no say in what Damon’s friends did here, although so far, Tony was the only one who made himself at home when he came in.

  A car pulled up to the pumps. Tony slid the stool back against the wall to give her room to get to the counter, a cheeky grin on his face.

  She propped the broom against the wall and waited. She could play this game all day if he wanted, but the outcome wouldn’t change. She wasn’t crawling over his lap to get into that tiny space.

  The standoff lasted maybe thirty seconds.

  “Fine.” He blew out a put-upon breath and got off the stool, acting as if she’d inconvenienced him greatly. “Be that way.”

  She stepped behind the counter to activate the pump, then commandeered the stool.

  Tony leaned on the counter, bringing his face too close to hers, breathing her air. “What’s your problem with me, anyway?” He waggled his eyebrows. “It’s my age, isn’t it? You like your men older.”

  “I do like them more mature,” she said, happy to find something to agree with him on. This was like dealing with Aaron, except Aaron behaved like a teenager because he was one. “And less married,” she added for good measure.

  “My wife and I have an understanding. We’re only together because of the baby.”

  She got it now—fatherhood was more responsibility than he’d anticipated, and it had turned him into a giant ball of masculine insecurity. He needed to know women still found him attractive. “When your baby turns twenty-one, you can give me a call. Until then, the problem’s not me, it’s definitely you.”

&n
bsp; “What happened to you?” Tony complained. “You used to be fun.”

  Despite her repeated assurances that she didn’t remember him from high school, he seemed to think that she should. Jess had no idea why. She would have remembered a player. But she’d had a reputation of her own, one she’d been happy to cultivate, and no doubt lots of people in Cherry Lake thought they knew her better than they really did. She’d never given the slightest thought as to how that reputation might come back on her someday.

  Why should she? If it hadn’t gotten her parents’ attention, how was she to know it would keep anyone else’s?

  Lesson learned. For the next four and a half months she’d have to put up with people like Tony and Mrs. Terlecki, who were stuck in the past, either through narrow-mindedness or because they couldn’t seem to grow up.

  He straightened. “I get it. You and Damon have gotten cozy. But you aren’t the only lady in his life, you know. What do you think he does after he leaves here at night?”

  It didn’t matter. They were friends, nothing more. Even that was a precarious relationship.

  She propped her elbow on the counter and cupped her chin in her hand. “If I really am one of the women in his life, and he really is seeing someone else after hours, if you’re his friend, how is this conversation helping him?”

  “Guy rules, darlin’. I’m not trying to help him. I’m trying to help me.”

  Jess widened her eyes. “So if he had this same conversation with your understanding wife, you’d be okay with it?”

  His face lost its smile. “I was only having a bit of fun with you. You don’t have to be such a bitch about it.”

  Through the window she saw Damon’s truck wedge into the parking space next to her car, stopping her from saying what was on the tip of her tongue. There was no need for Damon to walk in on an argument. She didn’t want to cause problems for him. He had to live here.

  She, on the other hand, would be leaving. Again.

  Tony went out to meet up with Damon as he got out of his truck. The two men walked around to the service bay entrance together. She lost sight of them, then picked up their voices as the bay doors screeched open out back.

  “Seriously, man,” she could hear Tony grumble. “She’s bad with customers. You should hear how people talk. I don’t know why you won’t get rid of her and give Aileen a chance. At least Aileen wouldn’t be driving business away. Everyone likes her.”

  The sad thing in what Jess was hearing was that Tony liked his wife, too. In his own way he probably loved her. It was the responsibility he couldn’t handle. She supposed she now better understood why Damon remained friends with him.

  Hot messes were Damon Brand’s crack.

  After Tony finally left, Damon came to the customer service counter to relieve her. He’d loosened the maroon-colored tie she’d knotted for him earlier and unbuttoned his collar. The sleeves of his crisp white cotton dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows. The black trousers covering those long legs and lean hips appeared as fresh-pressed as when he’d set out several hours before. If not for the work-roughened hands he’d look no different than any other businessman in town—if every other businessman happened to be tall, muscular, and sporting gorgeous blue eyes.

  Regret stabbed her heart. She’d thrown this away.

  He had his portfolio tucked under his arm and a bag of what smelled like Chinese takeout in one hand. “Sorry that took so long. I brought dinner.”

  “What did the gallery say?”

  He set the portfolio and the bag on the counter, a big grin on his face. “They want all the pieces.”

  Jess hopped off the stool, clapping her hands in excitement for him, already planning ahead. Not all of the pieces were finished. Some were in the design phase, mere concepts on paper. “Congratulations. You’re going to be so busy. I’ll start coming in on the weekends to give you more time.”

  Damon threw up his hands in a warding-off gesture. “Whoa. Hang on, drill sergeant. I’ll manage. I’m not making this your problem.”

  If he was worried about the money, that was ridiculous. “You won’t have to pay me. It’s what friends are for. Besides,” she reminded him, refusing to allow him to curb her enthusiasm. “You said your business is your priority. Whatever happened to, ‘I’ll do whatever it takes’ to make it succeed?”

  “I was hoping ‘whatever it takes’ wouldn’t involve taking advantage of friendships.”

  It struck her as ironic that someone who had as many friends as he did, and who was always so anxious to do things for others, was so reluctant to ask anyone for help in return. She got that he didn’t like charity. No one wanted their failures rubbed in their face. She hated it, too.

  But wasn’t reciprocity a large part of what kept the friendship playing field level?

  “Oh, please. You let people take advantage of you all the time. We already had this talk. Admit it, Damon. You have more trouble accepting help than I do. You always want to be the giver, never the receiver.”

  He got a rare, stubborn look in his eyes. It edged into his tone. “I’ve been the recipient. Never again. I can do this on my own. I don’t need all of Cherry Lake involved in my business.”

  Fair enough. When his father died, Damon’s family had lived on anonymous charity. He’d left high school for two years to help make ends meet. He’d once told her how humiliating it had been.

  And then she’d humiliated him again. She could only imagine what he must have suffered. While people liked him, what he wanted was his self-respect.

  She knew how important that was. Hers had been hard come by, too.

  But she wasn’t going to let him work himself to death over pride. “I understand what you’re trying to say. It’s not going to change anything, though. I’m still coming in on the weekends. Does it help if I tell you it works out to my advantage to have people believe that I’m useful around here?”

  “You are useful,” Damon said. He sounded so surprised anyone might think otherwise that she flushed with pleasure.

  “Good. It’s settled, then. I’ll see you Saturday morning.” Flustered, she opened the bag of takeout and extracted the napkins and utensils, then two paper-wrapped spring rolls and a container of fried wontons. She peered in the bag. “Is that Kung Pao chicken I smell?”

  “I stopped at that Chinese restaurant in Missoula you used to like.”

  Her mind blanked on what place he was talking about. She had to scramble back ten years. Then, she had it. Once, during finals, several carloads of seniors had driven into the city. She’d chosen the restaurant because she’d been a driver, she’d liked making the decisions, and she’d been there before so she knew the menu already.

  What fun she must have been for everyone else.

  She spread out the cardboard boxes of food and passed him a paper plate. She couldn’t believe he remembered something so trivial, or that the memory was a positive one and not of how horrible she’d been. “You’ve got a much better memory than me.”

  “Only for the important things.”

  She glanced up from her task. “Remembering my favorite restaurant is important?”

  He began scooping rice onto his plate with a studied intentness. “Remembering the things that made you smile is.”

  Jess’s fingers fumbled with the closure on the container of wontons. They’d been working on fixing their friendship. That sounded…well, more than friendly.

  His expression, however, was innocent. He seemed unaware that he’d said anything that might be misconstrued. Maybe he hadn’t meant anything by it.

  And this wasn’t disappointment she felt.

  Three cars arrived at the same time. Damon set his plate down and went outside to talk to one of the drivers. She scooped a forkful of rice into her mouth, admiring the view from the window. The white shirt and black dress pants were appealing—very much so—but they weren’t really him. He was flannel and denim. She found those attractive, too.

  I’m sorry for your loss�
��

  Those words continued to run through her head. She jabbed at a piece of chicken. His first reaction hadn’t been shock or disbelief over her relationship with a much older man. He’d understood.

  And yet he didn’t.

  She’d lost so much. Her family. Her dreams. While John’s death had been tragic, she’d been as prepared for it as anyone could be. Yes, he was gone too soon. But they’d had a lot of fun together, and she felt better knowing his last few years had been happy. She’d done that for him. In return, he’d helped her regain her self-respect, too. And to develop feelings of worthiness. Those were hard things to achieve for a spoiled rich girl with a learning disability that her parents had refused to acknowledge. They’d wanted her to be perfect. A princess.

  When she thought of John she was able to smile. She’d never once been able to think about Damon over the years without wrapping her feelings in anger. She’d tried blaming him for what happened between them, and it hadn’t worked.

  She really was a hot mess.

  But she had a great deal more self-awareness these days. The flirting…the kisses…those were nice. They weren’t what was important.

  That night in the cherry orchard, she’d lost something of infinite value to her. Damon’s friendship and trust were the losses she’d been mourning the most.

  She wanted them back.

  *

  Damon had to admit, he did get a lot more work done on the weekends now that Jess was minding the pumps. He had one piece of art, however, he didn’t want her to see. That one, he worked on at home.

  The phone rang. He heard Jess answer it, sounding cheerful and perky. He didn’t care what anyone in the entertainment world thought. She really could act.