That wasn’t what Jillian wanted to hear and he knew it. She wanted to hear him say that Georgia would be paid no matter what. Well, he couldn’t. And he doubted Georgia would like being seen as a charity case. “I’ll pay her severance, but that’s all I’m willing to do.”
“I’m asking you to keep her on.” Her eyes beseeched him. “For me.”
He squeezed his lids tightly closed. For me, she’d said, as broken as Georgia, and he wanted to give her anything, everything. What next? he mused then. A relationship? Marriage? Those babies he’d secretly longed for? Too soon, his mind shouted. Too much, too soon. “No,” he found himself saying. “I’m sorry.”
A moment passed. An eternity. A heartbeat.
Jillian spun on her heel, giving him her back. “I’d like you to leave, Marcus.” Her voice wavered, as if she were speaking past a painful lump.
Don’t let yourself care. Be glad for this. They weren’t a couple and ending things now, before they became any more complicated, was actually a smart thing to do. “Are you sure you want to do this?” The words left him before he could stop them. He remained in his seat. They’d only just come to a truce and he was loath to see it destroyed—despite his need for self-preservation.
Besides, he still desired her. More now than before.
For several seconds, she didn’t speak. He knew if he walked out the door he would never be invited back. Things would return to the way they’d been before. They would be enemies. There would be no more kissing. No more sex. No more wacky meals with her family. No more poisoned chocolate-chip cookies.
“Yes,” she whispered, facing him once again. There was finality in her features. “I’m sure.”
He closed his eyes against a strong surge of regret and panic and need. What’s wrong with you, asshole? Act like a man and leave. You forgot pride once. Don’t do it again. But…
He suddenly felt such a sense of loss that he couldn’t breathe. There was a crushing weight on his chest, smothering him. Killing him. Things were over. Things were over. His panic intensified, storming through him, opening a door in his mind and letting truth flood inside—a truth so palpable he wasn’t sure how he’d ever denied it.
Jillian’s beautiful, determined face flashed, the wild fall of her black curls and the delectable body encased in that white robe. Deep down he knew he wanted more from her than sex. Always had. She challenged him, excited him and wasn’t intimidated by his anger. She met him heat for heat in every way.
She would not cheat on him. She knew the pain of betrayal herself, and there was a tell-it-like-it-is iron core inside her that wouldn’t allow her to lie if her affections deviated.
She was the perfect woman for him. Too soon for such feelings? Not so. They’d been there from the first. He’d simply ignored them, then put a different name on them.
He might not have realized he was doing it, but he’d been edging them into an exclusive commitment. A relationship with all the strings he’d claimed he didn’t want. They were both wary of romance, but he’d been subconsciously shifting them in that direction. And he wasn’t sorry.
“Jillian,” he said, standing, meaning to go to her. To make her understand. What did pride matter right now? He’d given it up for Kayla for all the wrong reasons. With Jillian, it was right. So right. “I can’t let Georgia keep her job. That’s not good business and it’s not fair to anyone involved. You have to understand.”
“I do understand.” For a moment, she looked like she would crumble. Then she stiffened and shook her head. “You still need to leave.”
“Jillian—”
“She said leave!” Georgia snapped, jumping into the conversation.
“We were only fooling around, anyway. Scratching an itch, right?” Jillian laughed, the sound strained. “It never would have lasted.”
Did she truly feel that way? Maybe, maybe not. Either way, it cut him sharper than a blade because it meant he was willing to try and she wasn’t. A muscle ticked under his eye.
“I wasn’t just fooling around,” he said, but she wasn’t swayed. She’d erected a wall between them and he didn’t know how to tear it down. Not when he’d spent his entire life trying to build his own walls and keep them up. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” With that, he left, shutting the door behind him.
Jillian wanted to cry. Watching Marcus walk away from her without sprinting after him, yelling for him to stop, something, was the hardest thing she’d ever done. She had to remind herself that she was immune to men, immune to their charms and never wanted to get serious.
They were all pigs.
“Good riddance.” Georgia collapsed on the couch, burying her face in the cushions.
Jillian’s chin trembled. Damn Marcus for showing her a tender, caring side in the aftermath of their lovemaking and causing her to desire all that he had to give, then reverting to the kind of cruel and selfish man that refused to take pity on her friend.
Worst of all, he’d ignored her feelings completely. Just like her dad had done. Just like her targets did to their women. He hadn’t really cared about her—hadn’t ever claimed to care about her. She’d just thought…hoped…Well, better to have seen his true colors now rather than later. Wasn’t that what she’d always wanted to tell the women who hired her?
“What am I going to do?” Georgia uttered in a tortured whisper.
“I don’t know.” Jillian forced her attention on her friend. Georgia needed her now. Marcus, she would think about when she was alone. No, maybe not even then. She felt too raw. “I’ll call Brent. He’ll—”
“No!” Leaping into action, her friend grabbed her shoulders and pinned her with a desperate stare. “I don’t want your brother to see me like this. That’s why I came here.”
“If anyone can convince you that you’re still beautiful, it’s Brent.” Her brother would not desert a woman simply because her looks had deteriorated. He wasn’t like her dad or Marcus. He was sweet and kind and loving. Not that she’d ever tell him. He already had a big head.
“He’ll walk away from me in disgust.”
“You can’t know that for sure until he sees you. And isn’t that why you did this? So he could see you this way?” As she spoke, Jillian wished the last few minutes had never happened; she wished that she were back in Marcus’s arms, laughing with him and dreaming up ways to improve CAM. Poor, pathetic me, she thought then, disgusted with herself.
What kind of woman would rather have a man than the truth?
You’re just like all the other women out there.
“I can’t.” Green eyes stared up at her, beseeching her to understand. “I just can’t. Not yet. I don’t care if Marcus thinks I’m ugly, but Brent…”
“All right.” She pasted on a smile, knowing it probably looked shaky and false. It was. “We’ll make this a girls’ night. Why don’t I get you a beer.”
Relieved, her friend nodded.
Jillian walked into the kitchen and secretly dialed her brother’s cell without an ounce of guilt. Her eyes burned as it rang. Damn it! She rubbed at them to rid herself of the hated moisture.
“Now isn’t a good time,” her brother’s voice suddenly rushed out, slicing into her internal lamentations.
“Brent, it’s me,” she whispered.
“Jillian, I’m at Georgia’s. Something’s wrong with her. I was talking to her on the phone, she screamed and I rushed over. But she’s not answering her fucking door. I’m going to break it down.”
“She’s here.”
Except for his panting, deadly silence slithered over the line. “What?”
“She’s here. With me.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. A little shaken up, but fine.”
His breathing became heavier, labored, and she knew that he was running. “I’ll be at your door in five seconds,” he said. “Have it unlocked.”
They disconnected without another word. Softly Jillian placed the phone on the receiver. Looked like Georgia
and Brent would get a happy ending. Unlike herself. She swiped a lone tear that had decided to fall. I’ll be okay, she told herself. Marcus isn’t worth it.
But what if he was?
Twenty-Three
Are those space pants, because your ass is out of this world.
BRENT RAN LIKE A man caught on fire and the only extinguisher to be found was at Jillian’s house. His heart pounded in his chest. Something was wrong with Georgia. He might even have heard her sobbing in the background when he spoke to his sister.
Five houses over, he arrived. His body was tense, his blood boiling with the need to help his woman, to fix whatever was wrong. To wipe away her tears. If anyone had hurt her…Jaw clenched, he flew up the porch. The front door was unlocked, as he’d requested, and he sprinted inside.
The first thing he saw was Georgia, lying on the couch. Her back was to him and a pretty beaded pillow was draped over her head, but he could tell she was shaking. Jillian was sitting beside her, patting her shoulder while staring sadly into the distance.
“What happened?” Brent demanded.
Jillian jumped, as if she hadn’t realized he’d entered her home. Georgia gasped his name and scrambled closer to the edge of the sofa. “What’s he doing here?” Panic radiated from her and she clutched the pillow tighter to her head. “Leave, Brent. Please!”
Frowning, Brent inched forward. He wanted to touch her, to soothe her, but didn’t dare. Not yet. Not until he knew what was going on. “Talk to me, sweetheart. Please.”
Georgia didn’t say a word.
Jillian stood, looking more vulnerable than she ever had before. “Last night, she cut her hair to test you. You. Not Wyatt. They’re through.”
His first reaction: elation. Wyatt was finally out of the picture. His second reaction: confusion. “I don’t understand how cutting her hair could test me.”
Bending down, determination falling over her features, Jillian jerked the pillow off of Georgia’s head. Georgia didn’t erupt, didn’t scream, curse or cry. No, she drew in a shuddering breath and rolled to her back, letting Brent see her fully.
He felt like someone had punched him in the stomach.
Her face was a mess; red lines branched from her swollen eyes like a spiderweb. Her hair—mostly gone. Her eyebrows—totally gone. Watery green eyes stared up at him in agony and expectation.
Shit. Shit! Cut her hair was an understatement. Most of the silky red tendrils had been chopped to the scalp. There were a few locks remaining and those were in spikes. Gone was the beautiful facade he’d lusted after all these many years. In its place…was the vulnerable girl he’d wanted in school but hadn’t been able to have.
You know you want to leave me, her gaze seemed to say. Her chin trembled and she hiccupped.
“You did this to yourself?” he asked quietly.
“Yes.” Her voice was tired, scratchy from tears. She closed her eyes, as if she couldn’t hold them open anymore. “I did it.”
“For me?”
“Partly.”
Brent maneuvered around her and eased onto the edge of the couch. “Scoot over, sweetheart.”
“No,” she said weakly.
“Please.”
At first, she gave no indication that she’d heard him. Then, slowly, she inched to the side, giving him room. He scooted toward her, until his hip was touching hers.
“I’m going to bed,” Jillian said quietly. She walked away without another word, and he heard her bedroom door snick shut.
“Night,” he called. Something was wrong with his sister, but he could only handle one unhappy female at a time. He’d deal with Jill in the morning. For now, he kept his attention on Georgia.
What would drive a gorgeous woman to do something like this? To test him, Jillian had said. To test him…how? Show me your worst, he suddenly remembered telling her. His eyes widened as all the pieces of this bizarre hair puzzle locked into place. Testing him, expecting him to leave her.
Over the years, she’d told him countless times that he only wanted her because of her face, her appearance. The little nutcase had ruined her beautiful locks so she could know, at long last and beyond any doubt, that she’d been right.
He wanted to laugh, but didn’t dare.
“Well,” she said, that one word muffled and defiant.
“Well what?” It was difficult, keeping the happiness out of his voice.
“Do you just want to be friends now?” That was sneered.
“Why would I want to be your friend now?”
“I knew it.” Her lower lip trembled. “I did. I knew you’d say that.” She tried to rotate to her side. “You’re all the same. Jillian was right. You’re all pigs.”
He gripped her arm, doing his best to remain gentle so he didn’t bruise her, and held her in place. “Sweetheart, you’re confusing me here. It’s a bad thing that I don’t want to be your friend? I’ve never wanted to just be your friend. I’ve always wanted to be your lover. And I still do.”
Her mouth fell open. “Wh-what?”
“You’re beautiful to me, now and always.”
Refusing to believe him, she shook her head. “You can’t mean that. You never tell me I’m beautiful and you’re only saying it now because you’re a nice guy. You feel obligated.”
He laughed, unable to stop himself this time. “I’m not a nice guy, Georgia, and I don’t feel obligated.”
“Yes, you are and yes, you do.” She still didn’t open her eyes. “This isn’t funny.”
“It kind of is.”
“No. It’s. Not!”
Maybe she was right—about the nice guy part. After all, he hadn’t pursued this woman the way he’d wanted. If he had, he would have packed his bags and moved in with her—with or without her permission—a long time ago. Instead, he’d let her date Wyatt, the asshole loser he’d dreamed about killing over and over again. Painfully. Slowly.
“I never tell you that you’re pretty because I don’t care about the outside,” he said. “But yeah, I think you’re beautiful inside and out. I always have. That doesn’t mean I’m too nice to tell you that you look like shit right now.”
Her cheeks bloomed bright with color. “You don’t have to be rude. I know I look like a mutant.”
“A cute mutant. Listen, sweetheart. You can’t have it both ways. I’m either nice or I’m rude. Actually,” he said after a pause, “I’m neither. I’m just honest. You’ll come to love that about me.”
“Come…to? So you want to stay around me? You really do love me?” Disbelief radiated from her and, if he wasn’t mistaken, happiness, too. The emotion was muted, barely there, but that slight glimmer warmed him inside and out. “Still?”
“Well, yeah.” He wiped away one of her tears. “I told you how I love the sound of your voice when you’re happy and the freckles you try so hard to hide. But did I mention that I love how you sing songs from The Little Mermaid when you think no one can hear? I love that you would die for my younger sister. I love the way you smell, like cotton candy. I love that you gaze down at your hands and twist your fingers together when you’re nervous. I love the granny glasses you used to wear and, when I finally get you into bed, you better believe you’re going to wear a pair. I’ve fantasized about you in them so many times I’ve lost count.”
A tremor moved through her, so intense the entire couch shook.
“Lean against the edge, sweetheart. I’m falling off.”
She obeyed without protest. Instead of settling deeper, he stretched out beside her. Her body was warm and soft, her scent salty-sweet. God, he’d wanted to be in this position for so long. Holding her. Soaking her in.
“I’m jobless,” she said. “Marcus fired me.”
“Good for him.” So Marcus was Georgia and Jillian’s boss? Interesting…
“Excuse me?”
“I would have fired you, too. You shaved your eyebrows, for God’s sake!” He chuckled, but quickly sobered. “I love you, sweetheart, but maybe it’s time for a f
resh start. With everything. The job. Your outlook on life. Me.”
“I think I’m in shock.” There was a layer of shame in her voice, as if she were finally coming to understand the depths of his feelings. As if she were finally realizing that she hadn’t needed to go to such lengths to test his devotion.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and squeezed tight. “Listen up, Scissors. I love you, okay. Lack of hair hasn’t changed that. I want to be with you. I love you. You. The woman you are, not the woman you look like.”
Trembling again, she burrowed her head into his neck. “I—I don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t say anything. Go to sleep, sweetheart. We’ll talk some more in the morning.”
“You’ll stay?”
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
“Promise?”
He kissed her forehead. “Promise.”
JILLIAN LAY AWAKE all night. Once she tiptoed into the kitchen to get a glass of water and saw her brother and Georgia snuggled together on the couch. That reminded her of what she’d been doing with Marcus before they were interrupted. Anger filled her and she’d returned to her room, to bed, huffing. Crying.
She wanted to strike at Marcus, to hurt him because she was hurting.
He hadn’t chosen her, and that knowledge still hurt. He’d chosen duty and his job, proving beyond any doubt that she meant nothing to him. Just what she’d thought she wanted, but hadn’t. Not really.
Once she’d thought to go to war with him, but then she’d discarded the idea because she’d feared becoming too attracted to him. She didn’t have to worry about that now. She was attracted to him, but she was smarter now. Now she knew the consequences of giving in.
Eyes narrowed, she stood. She stumbled to her closet and dressed in a pair of black slacks and a black T-shirt. She jerked her hair into a ponytail, then tugged on a pair of sneakers. She grabbed her purse and keys and strode into the living room.
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