by Ines Saint
* * *
Heat rose and fell in Kayla's cheeks. Jake had been staring at her. No doubt his ego assumed that she was actively looking for ways to turn up in his life. As soon as she'd been able to, she'd stared steadily back at him, to show him she had nothing to hide. But the look on his face had been hard to read.
She caught Michelle studying her and was about to share a smile with her new friend to show her all was well when someone tapped her shoulder.
"Why, you're that violinist. I hadn't paid much attention to the news, though, to be sure, you seemed to have brains and spunk, and that did catch my attention, but just barely, dear. Ever since he was named one of Chicago's top three most eligible bachelors, people have been linking him to someone or other. However, now that you're here, and I saw the way the two of you were looking at each other, dare I believe the reports are true?" She squeezed Kayla's hand, and recognition dawned on Kayla as she took in the woman's strange features. Her upper lip was a tad too full, her eyebrows too high, and her smile too stretched. The woman speaking to her was Jake Kelly's mother. And she was under the wrong impression.
"Uh, yes, I'm the musician your son hired as an advisor, but no—the reports are untrue, Mrs. Kelly. Your son and I are not dating. He was looking surprised to see me here, that's all." The quartet's first set was over, the group was waiting for her to join them for dinner, but Mrs. Kelly gave the impression of someone who was settling in for a chat. Kayla signaled for them to go on without her.
The older woman frowned. "You're saying he was not looking captivated by you?"
Kayla shook her head no. Whatever he'd been, it had definitely not been captivated.
"Bewitched, maybe?" Mrs. Kelly looked hopeful.
"No, Ma'am."
"But a well-regarded reporter wrote that you two were overheard arguing passionately on Monday," she pointed out.
"We were disagreeing passionately—about the scope of the music program."
"I'm beginning to feel like I'll never have any grandchildren. I simply adore music, and I had this sudden image of a musical grandchild!" She sighed resignedly before asking, "How do you feel about Stevie Nicks?"
The change in subject was so abrupt, Kayla laughed. "I love her."
Mrs. Kelly smiled excitedly. "Well, I'm in the mood for 'Landslide,' do you think you can play it for me?"
Kayla hesitated. How strange to play for an audience of one in a crowded room.
"Oh, they won't even notice!" Mrs. Kelly exclaimed, correctly interpreting her thoughts. "Come over here, and it will just be the two of us." She led Kayla away from the crowd to a bench at the end of the hallway. "How did you know I was Jake Kelly's mother?" she asked when they sat down.
"Well... I looked up your son when he gave me the job, and I saw a few pictures of the two of you together."
"I do have a face you won't soon forget." She sighed again. "It's my scarlet letter. My face is my warning to all women: don't be insecure!" She was so earnest and so sincere that Kayla found she liked the woman and was eager to play for her.
She played a soft rendition of "Landslide," with Mrs. Kelly singing the words under her breath. When the song was over, the older woman squeezed Kayla's hand again. "All worthwhile philosophy should be lyricized and put to music, don't you agree?"
Kayla smiled. "I do."
"Call me Patty, please. Now tell me, are your parents or grandparents musical? Is this something that is inherited? Or do—"
They were interrupted by Marcus, who'd brought over two heaping plates of food. "We wouldn't want you to forget to eat while you entertain the lovely Mrs. Kelly." He winked.
* * *
When the quartet finished their second set, they looked around to see the event was basically over, and it was time to gather their things and leave. They went out into the hallway and said their goodbyes. Simone and Michelle left immediately, Ralph stayed behind to catch up with someone he knew, and Kayla rummaged through her purse to find her cell phone.
"Do you need a ride home?" Jake's baritone sounded behind her, and the skin on Kayla's neck prickled in response.
"No, thank you," she said over her shoulder in what she hoped was a polite and detached voice.
"Are you taking the bus or the train?"
Kayla slowly turned around. The truth was that she was taking the bus, but her mother thought she had a ride. Kayla hated to lie, but her mom couldn't see well enough at night to pick her up, and she didn't want to worry her. She decided a white-lie would do for Jake, as well. "I'm catching a ride with Ralph," she answered, motioning in her friend's direction.
At the same moment, Ralph shot out his hand and said, "My ride's here. Bye, Kayla!" Kayla froze.
Jake bit his lip in a failed effort to suppress a mocking smile. "Aren't you going to remind him he's supposed to be taking you with him?" He looked at her from under his eyelashes, and Kayla felt her belly dip and roll. Why did he have to be so good looking?
"No. If someone forgets me, they're not worth my time." She looked at him pointedly.
"Touché?" His eyes glimmered appreciatively. Kayla merely shrugged and looked away. "Look, speaking of time," he continued. "You'd save a lot of it if you allowed me to give you a ride."
Kayla closed her eyes. She was tired. A ride home would be infinitely preferable. And if they used the time to discuss the music program, it would cut some time off their next meeting; a definite plus. She was about to say that if he truly wouldn't mind, she'd accept and that they could spend the ride home working when a disturbing thought popped into her mind. What if he was offering her a ride to promote the idea that they were a couple? His approval ratings had improved in every demographic where he had previously been struggling—especially the demographics Kayla either fit or was in some way related to—since they'd been falsely linked together. Was he looking to raise those numbers a little more? Her stomach plummeted. She hated politics and what they did to some people. "No thank you, I'll take the bus. I like the bus."
"You'd rather take the bus?" He asked in disbelief.
"Well, you'd think that of all people, you would know that being seen in a car alone with me would only fuel rumors about us being a couple. I, for one, want to squash that rumor. It doesn't benefit me in the least." She looked up at him, knowing she was unable to hide she was hurt, but Jake seemed genuinely taken aback at her words.
Confused, Kayla shook her head and said, "Good night, Mr. Kelly, and thank you for the offer," in a softened voice, and walked to the door. But no sooner did she grab onto the bronze than he put his hand on the handle, too, covering her own small hand with his large and, surprisingly roughened palm.
"I'm offering you a ride because the idea of you lugging around the extra weight of a violin case and a huge, heavy bag onto buses and trains all over the city late at night when I can easily take you home bothers me, okay?" He was close, and his voice in her hair sent an exasperating little thrill down her spine.
Kayla took her hand off the handle and unwittingly wiped her sweaty palm on her skirt. Could he really be worried about her? Feeling rattled, she asked, "Do I look like a damsel in distress to you?"
"You? Hell no!" His answer was so quick and emphatic, she had to suppress a gurgle of laughter. "Look—I know you'll be fine, but it's eleven o'clock, and you do look tired. It would make me feel better to get you home faster. That's all it is."
"Then I accept your offer a ride. But only because it will make you feel better," she couldn't help teasing.
He smiled. "Thank you. It will. And since you're so concerned about being seen with me, we'll take my mother's car. I'll meet you on the corner to the left of the house in five minutes."
Minutes later, Kayla stepped into a sleek, gleaming black Mercedes Coupe. She sunk into the plush beige leather and a tired little sigh slipped out.
Jake grinned over at her. "I'm glad you admit you're more comfortable here with me than in a bus with a random stranger sitting next to you, Mrs. Diaz."
She turned in her seat. "I don't know. It might be more comfortable on the bus sitting next to a stranger than in a car sitting next to someone who refuses to call me by my given name. You haven't called me Kayla once. That whole 'Miss Diaz' thing is cold."
"Kayla," he said, his eyes blazing. "There. Do you feel better now?"
No. She swallowed. Breathless was not better. He seemed unaffected, even though he was clearly in a good mood. The fundraiser must've been a success. Jess had once said Jake Kelly had that debonair thing going on, and Kayla had seen that in him tonight. And now he was being dashing, as well, wanting to see her safely home.
"What car do you normally drive?" she asked when her thoughts began to bother her.
Jake cleared his throat. "A 1965 Shelby Cobra Roadster," he answered, trying to keep his voice level but failing miserably. It was dripping with typical male enthusiasm over his cool car.
"Wow. Impressive."
"Yes. It's a classic," he said, the last word almost reverent. She laughed, and he grinned, making her like him a little better.
"Do you mind if I turn the radio on?" Kayla asked, wanting something to take her mind off her reactions to Jake.
"Go ahead."
She pressed one of the preset buttons, and Billy Joel's softly melodic "She's Got A Way About Her" filled the car. "You know, a wise woman very recently told me all worth-while philosophy should be put to music." She sighed, wishing she had a way about her so that she could physically affect this man the way he physically affected her. Not because she wanted anything from him, God knew. Just for revenge. It wasn't fair she should suffer alone.
"You know, I think I know that woman," Jake said with a smile. "And she'd tell you that if you listen close enough, Billy Joel has the answer to everything."
"She has the soul of a musician," Kayla declared, adding, "Maybe you do, too."
He laughed. "Trust me, I don't. I can't play or sing worth a damn."
"It's not only about that, but it's also about allowing music to move you," she explained, thinking about how earnest he was about the music program.
"I'm not easily moved by anything. In fact, I might have the soul of an undertaker."
"Well, I'm not so sure about that." Kayla snuggled back into the seat and listened to Billy, thinking it was better if they didn't talk. It was bad enough being attracted to him, she didn't want to feel friendly toward him as well.
When they neared her neighborhood, she gave him final instructions on how to get to her street, finishing with, "It's the teal and red bungalow, you can't miss it."
"Teal and red?" he looked over at her again, both eyebrows raised.
"My mom likes crazy color schemes, and my dad loved making her happy. And now whenever she needs to paint the house, she can't bear to change the colors." Not thinking, she added, "She can't bear to change anything, really. The whole house is exactly the way it was eleven years ago."
Curious, Jake turned to her. "Like Miss Havisham in 'Great Expectations'?"
"No. She isn't half-mad, only a little eccentric and a lot in love."
"That'll do it."
"What'll do it?" Kayla asked.
"Love," Jake answered, and such a word, said with such a lack of emotion, seemed to hang in the air as if it didn't know what to do.
"I don't think it's love that does people in. It's passion that'll get you into trouble. People should concentrate on finding friendship and compatibility. That lasts."
"I guess you'd know," Jake remarked, just as Billy Joel began to croon "Leave a Tender Moment Alone."
"Uh, what's that supposed to mean?"
"Didn't a lack of passion get you, let's see... semi-dumped by your quasi-ex-boyfriend?" he smiled wickedly as he slowed the car down to glance at her.
Kayla felt her temper spike. It was a sensitive subject. "So, you aren't good with faces, but you can remember Jess's comment, word for word?"
"It caught my attention, that's all."
"Why?" she challenged.
"I've just never heard of a passionate, yet... sexless person before, that's all."
She opened and shut her mouth a few times before finding words. "Who said anything about me being sexless?" she finally demanded.
"Well, you're passionate about most things, right? So what else could this ex be talking about when he said you lacked passion?" He paused. "Teal and red, there it is."
"You know, on second thought, I think I prefer cold and distant Jake better than friendly Jake. Turns out friendly Jake is a bit of an ass. You can continue to call me Miss Diaz."
Jake laughed so hard he almost choked, and it made Kayla smile in spite of herself. Okay, so she liked friendly Jake. He was about to roll to a stop in front of her house when she saw a man sitting on her front steps, looking down at his phone. "Wait," she said, putting her hand on his arm.
Jake saw him, too. "Damn it, I think I know him. He's this popular blogger who sometimes attends press conferences."
"A blogger?" Kayla repeated, dumbfounded. "Are you sure? Maybe he's a burglar," she said, ever hopeful.
"I'll drop you off at the corner. Try to ignore him, and if you can't, don't let anything he says get to you. He'll know how to push your buttons, and he'll know just what to say to get you to do that overemotional thing that you do, so don't engage."
"Overemotional thing I do?" Kayla repeated.
Jake sighed. "Don't take it the wrong way. All I'm saying is that you can bet he studied the clip where you got angry at me at the press conference last Friday and that he spoke to the reporter who heard us arguing on Monday. If he's any good, and I believe he is, he'll know what to say to get to you riled up."
Kayla wanted to hit him over his clueless head with her violin case. "Has it occurred to you that if he knows how to get me 'riled up' it's because he studied you and asked the reporter who overheard us how it is that you made me angry?" They reached the corner, and she jumped out of the car and grabbed her stuff out of the back seat before he could answer. First, she was sexless, and now, she was overemotional? An overemotional person would have slammed the door of the car, which she didn't, but just barely. It was his mom's car, after all, and she was a doll.
When Kayla reached her house, she was hesitantly approached by the reporter. "Kayla Diaz? My name is Pete, and I write a blog about everything 'Chicago'. I've been trying to find out a little more about your relationship with Jake Kelly. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"
She ignored him, even though he came across as polite and decent.
"Look, I know he already issued a standard denial regarding a romantic relationship with you, but nobody ever believes those generic denials. If my readers hear it from you, too, we might officially put this thing to rest," he explained. To Kayla, he seemed reasonable. Jake was the overemotional one, acting as if this nice blogger was some insane paparazzo trying to get a scoop.
So Kayla decided to unemotionally explain, in no uncertain terms, that she and Jake Kelly were not and would never be romantically linked, and why, even though she didn't think that many people would tune into Peter's blog when there were so many blogs out there.
When she was finished, the front door opened and her mom stepped out. Pete got up. "Oh, I didn't know anyone was home," he said.
"I came downstairs to turn the lights on for Kayla and to reheat some chocolate Cortez for her. Are you Kayla's friend? Would you like some, too?"
* * *
Jake circled back to Kayla's house again to make sure she'd gotten in all right, only to see Kayla sitting down on her front steps with the blogger, both of them drinking out of mugs and laughing. What the hell part of "ignore him and don't say a word" did she not understand?
Chapter 6
Jake watched, for the umpteenth time, the grainy, cell phone-recorded image of Kayla speaking to the blogger who'd been lurking around her house Friday night. The video, first posted on the man's blog, had made its way onto Jake's very own Facebook page over the weekend. Trolls, he felt, were a s
inister bunch.
"Please believe me, if I were dating Jake Kelly, I'd own up to it. But he and I share absolutely no chemistry of that nature or any romantic connection whatsoever. We have nothing in common but a strong desire to expand the music program for our youth". She paused and smiled. "Well, that and the fact that I was once forced to give him a dance lesson. That's it."
Marcus hit pause, and Kayla's pretty and poised image froze on the screen. "Great. Kayla appears to be one of the few women aged twenty-four to sixty-five who is immune to his looks."
"That's not true! I'm immune to his charms," Jess said. "Especially today, he's in a really foul mood. And what organization is polling about his looks? I need to get my hands on that."
"Lots of people. On Twitter." Marcus grinned. "But I don't think we need to do any damage control on this, do you?" he asked.
"No." Jess grinned. "This is good. It takes some of the sheen off of that glossy image he has and helps people relate to him more. Jake's like a regular Joe now, dismissed by a pretty girl."
Filip, who'd been sitting at Jake's desk, laughed again, softly. He'd been doing quite a lot of his quiet laughing this morning, enjoying himself a little too much. Jake closed his eyes and swirled his tongue around his mouth before looking down at his watch.
"Kayla's here," Jess told him. "And I'm betting you want to wring her neck, but you should take it easy on her. She didn't ask for this kind of attention, she was just setting the record straight."
Out of nowhere, the thought of what he really wanted to do to Kayla came to mind: Back her up against the wall, and kiss her, and himself, senseless. No chemistry? No connection? Forced to dance with him? That was setting the record straight? "You look dangerous, Jake, please calm down." Filip walked over and put a hand on his shoulder.