Jena grabbed the phone from his hand. “Stop.”
Had she had a mirror handy, Jaci was certain the look of shock on Jerry’s face would have been replicated on hers, albeit a prettier version. Torn between asking, “Who are you and what have you done with Jena?” and yelling, “Go, Jen!” she opted for quiet admiration instead. Apparently the changing her baby sister had done while away was not limited to diapers.
“Don’t text Preston, or William, or Jonathan Michael Randolph the fourth,” Jena said. “I am not nor will I ever be interested in any one of them.”
“They’re good men, Jena. I’d like for at least one of my sisters to make a decent match.” He took that moment to finally acknowledge Jaci’s presence with a glare.
“Why don’t you define decent match, Jerry?” Jaci asked, taunting him by using the nickname he despised. “Is it someone who will love us and be faithful to us and never lift a hand to us like we deserve? Or is it an acquaintance of yours who made a deal with the devil for full access to our trust funds?”
“Maybe you’d better take this little family reunion to a more private location.” Ian joined their group. In a tuxedo. Va-va-voom... Words escaped her. Well, not all words. Hot, sexy, handsome, powerful, kissable, huggable and the like all stuck around, leaving her the vocabulary of a phone sex operator.
Jena took one look at her and then Ian and stuck out her hand. “You must be Ian. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you face to face.”
Ian shook her hand.
That gave Jaci the chance she needed to regroup. “What are you doing here?” she asked Ian. And why did his unexpected appearance fill her with so many conflicting emotions? Happiness. Guilt. Relief. Dread.
“I’m working security with Justin.”
Jena’s hand went to her throat. “Justin’s here?”
“You put that troublemaker on the event payroll?” Jerry asked.
“He is not a troublemaker,” Jena and Jaci said in unison, like they had so many times growing up, then pointed at each other and raced to add, “Pinch poke you owe me a Coke. Stand and holler you owe me a dollar.”
While they laughed like goofball school girls, Jerry asked Ian, “Who the hell are you?”
“Ian Eddelton.” Ian held out his hand. “Veteran U.S. Army recently returned from Iraq.”
Jerry’s eyes narrowed. “You.” Recognition dawned. “Your lies have made it significantly more difficult for me to find suitable men to marry my sisters.”
“Actually they’ve made me quite popular,” Jaci quipped.
Ian joined Jerry in a double glare.
Jaci held up both hands in surrender. “I’m just telling it like it is. Heading into the weekend my voicemail fills up.” Because she usually took weekend call to earn extra money and her co-workers called in report for any anticipated problems and any patients requiring visits.
“I said suitable men,” Jerry snapped.
“The rumors that made their way back to the states were all a big misunderstanding,” Ian explained. “I’ve never met Jena in person until tonight, but she was in the picture I had of Jaci. Men in a warzone tend to go a little crazy at the sight of a beautiful woman in a bikini. Make it two identical—”
“The twin fantasy,” Jerry said with a nod.
“Honestly,” Jena said in full dudgeon. “At times men are such vile creatures.” She held out the picture of the twins. “This is what we’re here to discuss so let’s get to it.”
Jaci leaned in, cupped her hand around
Jena’s ear and whispered, “Whatever has gotten into you, I like it.” Watching Jena stand up to Jerry for the first time ever was a sight to behold.
Jerry looked at it. Confused. “What are those?” he asked.
“Your nieces.” Jena stood tall then looked at Jaci. “I’m a mother now. I am responsible for two little girls. If I can’t stand up for myself, how am I going to stand up for them?”
“This is why you ran off? To get married?” Jerry asked. Incredulous.
“No,” Jena snapped. “What does my giving birth to twins have to do with getting married?”
And Jerry went off...on Jaci. “This is all your fault,” he yelled.
“This is between you and me, Jerald.” Jena tried to redirect Jerry’s anger. It never worked. So Jaci did what she always did. She came back fighting.
“You know, not everything is my fault and it’s about time you stopped blaming me.”
Ian put an arm around her shoulder. “I’ll get her. You get him,” he said to Jena, then forcibly guided her in the direction of the coatroom.
“Let me go.”
“Not until you’re in a spot where photographers can’t snap your picture, and microphones and nosey ears can’t hear you.” They stopped back by the banquet manager’s office. “Here.” He released her. “Let him have it.”
Jaci turned and did just that. “Trust me, Jerry. No one wishes mom and dad were here more than me. Because then I wouldn’t have to deal with you.”
“But they’re not here, are they?” He flattened invisible wrinkles from an arm of his tux and adjusted a cufflink. “Why is that?”
“Their deaths were not my fault.” It’d taken years of expensive therapy sessions before she could sound confident uttering those words, especially since she still didn’t believe them. “I am sorry dad lost his temper with me and grabbed me so hard he dislocated my shoulder.” Because she’d broken curfew yet again. It’d started out as their typical row until mom had shown up.
“I am sorry mom tried to intervene and he flung her to the side so hard she fell and hit her head on the marble fireplace and sustained a traumatic brain injury.” Why hadn’t she gone to bed at ten and stayed there? Like she always did.
“I am sorry that overwhelmed by pain and the sight of my mother lying motionless on the floor, with blood oozing from her head, the public image of the then head of Piermont Enterprises was not first and foremost in my mind when I told the police the truth about what happened, rather than lying to save face like you wanted me to. I’m sorry dad was brought in for questioning and suffered a massive, fatal heart attack while waiting for his attorney.” Alone in a holding cell. On a dirty cement floor.
“You’re not to blame,” Jena said.
Jerry remained quiet.
“Jena and I were teenagers when things got really bad. You were twenty-three,” Jaci yelled at Jerry. “A full-grown man. Everyone in that house knew what went on. Yet you did nothing to help my mother.” Because he’d never thought her mom was good enough for their dad. Imagine, a Piermont marrying the bourgeois daughter of a plumber. Regardless of the fact she’d put herself through college and graduate school and had earned a sought after spot on the management team of dad’s company.
Until she’d resigned to marry her prince charming and raise their little princesses.
“Maybe if you weren’t such a pain in the ass,” Jerry yelled back at Jaci, “Dad wouldn’t have been so mad all the time and he wouldn’t have taken his anger out on your mother.”
A widespread misperception which she noticed Jena did not dispute. But in her own way, Jaci had actually been trying to protect her mother. By acting out and drawing
daddy’s ire. And it’d been working, too. Mom and dad had actually seemed happier for those last two years. Jaci’s guess, dad rarely denied her approval to go out with friends or to a party, because he looked forward to her coming home after curfew, with alcohol on her breath, and a mouth full of sarcastic, disrespectful remarks.
She imagined him sitting in the leather chair behind his desk, smoking his imported cigar, watching the clock in eager anticipation, waiting for the front door to open.
And let there be no doubt, Jaci received the full force of his anger. Her mom may have given up the fight, but Jaci had been full of fire.
Oh the irony of mom suffering a life-
altering blow to the head as a result of trying to protect Jaci who was indirectly trying to protect her, then
lingering for years with significant cognitive deficits and physical impairments, requiring round the clock nursing care. A daily reminder of what had happened, of how, in the end, Jaci hadn’t done enough.
Jena looked at her with sadness.
Jerry looked at her with disgust.
Ian looked at her with a mix of shock and pity that made her want to scream.
Jaci fought off tears. She wasn’t that angry, misguided, rebellious teenager anymore. She was a philanthropist, as well known for her heritage as her work with the Women’s Crisis Center she’d founded. “I paid two hundred and fifty dollars to have my makeup professionally done for tonight, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to screw it up before my guests arrive.”
“Why do you always look for someone to blame?” Jena asked Jerry.
He didn’t have to look far because Jaci was always in his sights.
“If anyone is to blame for pushing me to lose myself in the arms of a man I cared about,” Jena went on, “it’s you,” she pointed at Jerry’s chest, “and your relentless attempts to foist your business associates on me, more concerned about who would most favorably impact your long term financial plan than what is in my best interest.”
Jaci held in a cheer. Jena had practiced that line during their pedicures and had hoped for an opportunity to use it.
“Well you sure fixed me by going out and getting yourself pregnant,” Jerry said in the sarcastic tone he usually reserved for Jaci. “But you’d be surprised what a man will put up with for twenty-five million dollars.” He slid a look at Jaci as if to imply one might even take her on.
“Like that’s my only allure,” Jena said.
“It is now,” Jerry answered. “Who do you think will want you with another man’s pair of squalling brats? Do you even know who the father is? Or have you turned into your sister, running around town with a change of underwear and a toothbrush in your purse?”
Jena gasped.
Jaci had heard that insult before.
Ian grabbed Jerry by the bowtie and yanked him close enough to kiss. “You obviously know very little about Jaci you ill-mannered, disrespectful, lousy excuse for a brother.”
“Stepbrother,” Jerry choked out like there may have been a little airway compression going on.
Jaci found herself disconcertingly pleased by that.
“If Jena is anything like Jaci,” Ian continued, “any man with half a working brain would be honored to marry her because she’s sweet and caring, beautiful and smart, hard-working and dedicated.”
Jaci’s breath caught. Did he honestly believe that?
“Thank you,” Jena said quietly, looking down at the floor.
Ian released Jerry who sucked in a deep breath. “I’m done with the both of you,” he said. “When you don’t meet the terms of your trust funds, I will happily write out checks to each and every one of the charities dad designated. I’m sure they’ll be delighted.”
“Well before you succumb to hand cramps from all that check writing,” Jaci said. “I read in the newspaper Piermont Enterprises is committed to the future of the Women’s Crisis Center and has pledged to match the total donations we receive tonight.” She had a copy of the front page article stashed away as insurance. “You’d better get yourself ready to write a check with a lot of zeroes on it because Millicent Parks coordinated a silent auction for us this year that’s estimated to bring in half a million dollars, the dear. She’s donated several pieces of jewelry and artwork from her private collection.” Unbeknownst to her husband, which was another reason Jaci had wanted Justin around. Although Mrs. Parks had provided Jaci with a notarized letter from her attorney and documentation of her personal ownership to make sure there would be no repercussions for Jaci or the crisis center, Jaci was glad to have backup on hand just in case.
Jerry walked away without a word.
“If you don’t pay or your check doesn’t clear,” she called after him, “I’ll grant an interview request to one of the many magazines, newspapers, and television talk shows who continue to get in touch with me year after year. Whichever one offers me the most money. And I’ll tell all.” Since odds were around fifty-fifty she’d meet the terms of her trust fund, and Mrs. Parks wouldn’t be around to assist on future events, Jaci needed every penny she could get this year.
A slight hesitation in his step was the only indication he’d heard her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
IAN spotted Jaci instantly, in a rare moment alone, standing by the corner of the dance floor, her shimmery champagne-colored gown an enticingly elegant wrapper covering her delectable treats. He’d had no idea how difficult tonight would be, standing on the sidelines, watching her laugh and flirt as dozens of men, old and young alike, touched her and danced with her, and held her much too close.
He absolutely hated seeing her with other men.
To take his mind off it, he’d actually scoped out a few locations from which he could easily pick them off one by one. If only he’d brought his silencer. If only this were a warzone and the men were targets of an op, and not the targets of Jaci’s hobnobbing with high society’s elite agenda, to raise money for her crisis center. “Hey, beautiful.” He snuck up behind her. “I’m on break. You promised me a dance.”
She stiffened, just a touch, but enough for him to notice, before turning to face him. Her eyes gave her away. Something was up.
“Certainly.” She held out her hand formally and he led her to the dance floor.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked to make conversation, watching her closely.
“Always,” she responded without elaborating, her smile too bright. Forced.
He took her in his arms and swayed to the tunes coming from the ten piece orchestra. She wore Jaci’s dress. Felt like Jaci, moved like Jaci, even smelled like Jaci.
But Ian’s intuition rarely failed him. He leaned back to take a closer look at her. “Jena?” he asked.
She laughed—a little too loud. “After all the time we’ve spent together you can’t tell me apart from my sister?”
So that’s how she wanted to play it? Fine. He’d flush out the truth.
“Come,” Ian said. “There’s something I want to show you.” A secluded alcove behind the coat room he’d found during his initial security sweep of the premises where he’d get her to tell the truth. Time was of the essence. Only something big would get Jaci to duck out of such an important event. Ian’s body went on full alert, anticipating trouble.
“But I need to—” She tried to pull her hand out of his.
Not a chance, sister. “I’ve been waiting all night to get you alone,” he whispered into her ear as he guided her through the back hallway to their destination. “Ah. Here we are.” He dragged her into the dark room, kicked the door closed, and pushed her up against the wall.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” he asked.
Silence.
He started kissing the side of her neck.
She let out a breath and trembled.
Hell, she even responded and tasted like Jaci. Ian’s blood started to simmer. How far would she take this charade?
He placed his hands at the curve of her waist. Stop me. Moved them up to her ribs. Stop me. An inch more and his thumbs would graze the undersides of her breasts. Stop me.
“Ian, stop,” Jena said, pushing him away.
Finally. He took a step back. “I was wondering how far you’d let things go.” Ian remembered where the light switch was and flicked it on. “Does Jaci know you play it a little fast and loose with her reputation?”
Jena sucked in an appalled breath and looked like he’d taken a swing at her. “Is that what Justin told you?”
“Justin? What does he have to do with this? And if you’re here pretending to be Jaci, where the hell is the real Jaci?”
Jena turned away. “I have no idea.”
“What?”
“She says it’s better if I don’t know the details.”
Ian want
ed to hit something. “And you accept that?”
“Jaci can take care of herself.” She wrapped her arms around her middle and looked up at him. “She’s been pulling these disappearing acts for years and has never once come across a situation she couldn’t handle.”
“Oh yeah? Just because she doesn’t tell you when she runs into trouble, doesn’t mean it’s never happened. Take the other night for instance. When Jaci came home all wet.”
“She’d done a pick up for the crisis center. It was raining.”
“She’d gone down to one of the most dangerous apartment complexes in the county. At night. Alone. And when the girl she was supposed to pick up came out with her boyfriend instead of alone, Jaci confronted them. Thank goodness she’d had the sense to tell her friend to call Justin before leaving her car.”
Jena’s eyes widened in shock, but Ian didn’t stop. He needed her to understand. “We arrived to find her on the ground in the parking lot. After he’d hit her. At least twice. If we hadn’t shown up when we did, he probably would have backed right over her. Or worse.”
Urgent male voices sounded in the hallway seconds before the door to their hideaway was thrust open. “She’s in here,” a man Ian recognized as working security with him and Justin said.
Damn. On break and something had happened. “What’s going on?” Ian asked.
A tall, slender, man, late fifties, early sixties, with white hair, a perfectly fitted, top-of-the-line tux, and an air of elitist power about him stepped into the doorway. “Thank goodness,” he said, his eyes zeroing in on Jena. “Which one are you?”
“Jaci,” Jena answered without hesitation. “What can I do for you Mr. Parks?”
“Millicent has gone missing. You and she were seen discussing what appeared to be a very serious matter earlier, and I wonder if she made mention of some crisis I’m unaware of? A sick friend? An urgent need to be somewhere, perhaps?”
Ian didn’t like him. His polished, calm words couldn’t hide his barely repressed rage from Ian’s trained observer. This man, whose entire demeanor flashed danger, suspected Jaci was involved. God help her. Ian had come in contact with many a man like him. Cool. Calculating. Heartless. Without conscience.
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