Jeff blinked. RW had never been this open with him before.
“Another thing, I know you think your mother was incapable of loving. That’s bull. Your mother loved me until I got sick. Something broke inside me and I couldn’t love her anymore. I got mean and hurt her, too. Together, we raged World War Three on one another and destroyed...everything. I was too deep in my own hole to understand at the time, but I see now. Angel showed me the light.”
Jeff hung his head between his knees. His limbs were heavy. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’re done hiding from your own damned feelings. Your mother and I hurt you badly and you don’t want to hurt like that again. I get it. Trust me, I do, because you are like your old man. But if you don’t let yourself feel, you’ll never truly live. I want you to live, son.”
And then, without any warning, RW wrapped his arms around Jeff.
For the first time in his life, Jeff buried his head in his father’s shoulder and held on.
Eighteen
Michele flew to New York like a regular person—no chartered jet, yacht or limo. It was strange to be in New York again. Nothing had changed, except her. Days passed and she still felt out of place in her own home.
During the day, she stayed with her sister and answered the hundreds of questions that Cari’s caregivers asked about the Harpers. They all wanted to know what Jeff was like in real life. The more Michele talked about him, the more she missed him. It was a sweet ache that wouldn’t go away.
Did he think about her?
When she was back in her tiny apartment, she whipped up recipes one after the other. She kept a pad of paper on the countertop and by her bed so she could write down the rainbow of flavors that fired inside her brain.
Joy. That’s what it felt like. Her cooking anxiety was gone.
So, apparently, was Alfieri’s voice. Cooking for Jeff had silenced the negativity inside her.
She was free.
Man, she couldn’t wait to create some of these dishes for Jeff. He’d love her mildly spicy chicken parmigiana. She smiled, thinking about how much he’d loved the grilled cheese sandwich she’d made for him. That was the first time she’d kissed his spicy lips and he’d asked her to eat with him.
Who was eating dinner with him now?
A horrible thought stopped her pen—what if he was married by the time she returned? Could she work for him then? She honestly didn’t know if she could. It would hurt too badly. Her pain would be bad enough but watching him self-destruct with a person who didn’t care about him, who maybe only wanted his money or fame? She couldn’t bear the thought.
A friend. That’s what he said he wanted her to be. Would a friend let him do something that would end up harming him?
No, she had to stop him from marrying a woman who would not love him. Because, heaven help her, she loved him. Desperately. Without question. She’d never loved a man before but she understood that love was about risks and she was willing to risk it all for Jeffrey Harper. She wanted him to be happy. She wanted to make the rest of his life sweeter than he could ever imagine. To do that...she would have to be brave and go for what she wanted—him.
Biting her lip, she knew what she had to do.
She called him and was disappointed when his voice mail picked up. How she’d wanted to hear his deep voice.
“It’s Michele. If you still must get married...” Screwing up all the courage she could muster, she said, “Marry me. We’re good together. Really good. Friends with benefits. I want you to be happy and I can make you happy. I know what I’m getting into. Please, call me back and we can...” she laughed “...plan a wedding. Call me.”
She hung up and stared at her phone. Did she just ask a man to marry her?
Falling back on her bed she laughed out loud. Yes, she did.
* * *
Jeff was busier than he’d ever been but he couldn’t stop thinking about Michele.
Would she come back?
And if she did, would he be able to keep his hands off her? He didn’t think so. All he’d thought about, dreamed of, imagined since she left was Michele. He was glad he didn’t have his cell phone with him at the site. He couldn’t stop checking social media or searching the web for pictures of her. When he found nothing, the hole in his heart widened. He turned his phone off and buried it in his sock drawer.
RW showed up at the building site, looking ragged and drawn. Like a strong California sundowner wind would blow him off his feet.
“Hey, Dad. Have you heard from Angel yet?”
RW shook his head. The muscles in his jaw flexed. “I’m working another angle so she feels safe to come back once and for all.”
Alarms went off in Jeff’s head. “What sort of angle?”
“Taking the fight straight to the bastard himself. Cuchillo invaded my home. Now he’ll see what that feels like.”
Jeff didn’t like the sound of this plan. “Ah, that sounds dangerous. I’m not sure you’re up to that sort of fight, Dad.”
The flash of fury in his father’s eyes startled him. “I’m exactly the one for this fight. He hurt Angel and will pay for that. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure our family is protected.”
Now Jeff was thoroughly worried. He would talk to Matt and figure out what the old man was planning.
“Dad...”
“I’m done discussing this.” RW ended the conversation by walking around the building to check out the progress. Typical Dad move—walk away when he didn’t want to hear any more.
Matt and I will figure it out.
Jeff continued working. It was all he could do with so much on his mind.
When RW reappeared ten minutes later, he said, “It’s coming along.”
“Yep. The kitchen will be fully functioning by the end of the week. Just have the rest of the dining area to finish up.”
It was the first time he’d seen RW smile since Angel left. “I’m proud of you, son. This project is just what we both needed.”
Warmth spread inside Jeff’s chest. “Thanks, Dad.”
“I haven’t seen anything online from Finn lately.” RW frowned. “I wonder what he’s up to.”
“Maybe our lawyers scared him off.”
“Doubtful. I’ll check into that, too. Okay, son. I’ll leave you to your work.”
Jeff watched his father walk away and wondered what he was up to.
Almost two weeks had passed since Michele left. It felt like a thousand. When was she coming back? Would she? The questions haunted him night and day. Jeff and Matt were insulting each other and playing an extremely aggressive game of pool when RW stomped into the pool house waving a newspaper. “What in the hell is this!”
Chloe rushed in behind him. “Dad, some of those go back to the start of the year before Jeff came home.”
Jeff walked around the pool table to see what they were looking at. The headline read, “Jeffrey Harper’s Harem.” Below that were two pages filled with pictures of him on dates.
“No way. Are those women you’ve dated this year?”
Chloe bit her lip. “I have our image guys on it. But I’m not sure what they can do to help you, Jeff. These appear to be real pictures.”
Matt cocked his head. “Oh, look, there’s Michele Cox. And there she is again at the beach.”
Jeff pressed his fingertips to his temple. “Finn did this.”
Chloe nodded. “Sounds like something he’d do.”
“I don’t care who took the pictures. I’ve already gotten angry calls from shareholders. You’re supposed to be building a respectable image, Jeffrey. Not—” RW slapped the page “—a harem.”
“You told me to find a bride!” Jeff yelled.
“I didn’t tell you to date every female in the northern hemisphere. You’re sabotaging your career and hurting the family in the pro
cess. It’s time to choose. Marry one,” RW ordered.
Jeff wasn’t ready to discuss it. He didn’t know when he’d ever be ready to marry.
The only woman he’d made love to recently was Michele. She saw through the television celebrity image, the rich Harper prince, the cocky hotel critic, and saw the real him. Messed up childhood and all.
No one else got him like she did.
He didn’t want to think about what that meant.
“What are we going to do about Finn?” Jeff asked instead.
“Leave him to me. I’ll settle the score but we need him to come here. I can’t go to New York, in case Angel needs me here. Plus, I’m working on something.”
Jeff and Matt exchanged looks. So far, they hadn’t figured out what RW was planning to do to Cuchillo.
Chloe studied RW’s face. “How will you get Finn here?”
“I’ll invite him to come see how the restaurant is coming along. Jeff, make sure your chef is ready to make him a meal he will never forget.”
“When? Michele is not due back for another ten days.” Jeff’s gaze went to her picture. The one on the beach was his favorite. He traced her jaw with his finger.
“Michele Cox is not coming back. She tendered her letter of resignation this morning. To me,” RW said.
Jeff turned around so quickly that the room spun. A low hum of despair started at the base of his tailbone. “She quit?”
“That’s what happens when you let people down. She called you several times and you refused to call her back. Don’t you understand what I am trying to teach you with this project?” RW’s voice was raised but there was a thick undercurrent of sadness in it. “The townspeople. Our employees. People we care about. Harpers don’t get to crap on anyone anymore. You lose good people that way...for good. I expect better of you.”
Jeff slammed his hand on the pool table. “I didn’t get her calls, Dad.”
“Jeff, I bought you a new phone. Is it not working?”
“It’s fine. It’s just...my phone is... I turned it off. Social media was destroying me.” He didn’t explain that it was more the lack of seeing Michele anywhere than seeing his negative posts that were killing him.
Chloe said. “Did you bury it in your sock drawer like you used to?”
“Hey. How did you know I hid things there?”
Chloe smiled. “You’re still the same. You know that? You always hid the good stuff there. Candy bars, comic books... I’ll go get the phone.”
Matt patted his shoulder. “Explain it to Michele. It’s just a misunderstanding.”
“Is it?” RW’s nostrils flared. “Did you treat her badly, son? Could she have seen this two-page spread this morning and decided she didn’t want to be another notch on your bedpost?”
Jeff opened his mouth. No words came out.
“If you want to be respected, you have to treat people with respect. Why can’t you learn from my mistakes instead of making the same ones? This is yours to fix. Figure it out.” RW stomped out the same way he came in.
Matt shook his head. “We really need to find Angel. Are you okay?”
No.
His mind was spinning, searching for answers. Jeff scrubbed his face.
She quit?
He’d really thought she’d come back, even if they couldn’t be together anymore.
“I’m fine.” His voice was full of gravel.
Matt rubbed his shoulder. “Of course, you are. Hey, you know what’s different in these pictures? I just figured it out.”
“You’re still looking at those? Give it a rest.”
Was Dad right? Had Michele seen this, too? Did she feel like just another woman in his bed? Hell, he could see her sparkle even in the grainy black-and-white shots. Could feel her touch way down deep.
She was nothing like the others.
“No way. Look. This is too good to pass up.” Matt sounded amused.
Jeff didn’t want to look. He’d forgotten many of their names already.
“It’s a bunch of women I dated, so what?” Jeff snarled.
“No, jackass. Look at you in the pictures. Here’s your ugly mug with all these women. Serious, glum, bored, practicing your multiplication tables in your head...” He pointed across two rows. “Now look at you with Michele. Both pictures. See the difference?”
Jeff leaned in closer. “I’m smiling at her.”
“Bingo. A real smile, man. Like you feel it down to your toes. You are into her, totally and completely. At least, that’s what I see in those two photos and not in the others. Hell, if I didn’t know better, I’d say that guy in those two pictures with Michele—” Matt grinned. “That dude is in love.”
Jeff looked closer and saw what Matt recognized. He seemed like a different person in the photos with Michele. A person he’d never seen before.
He was different with Michele.
A surge of heat flooded his gut. It wasn’t love, it was...hell, he didn’t know what to call it. But it was...something.
Chloe raced in, out of breath, and shoved the shiny new phone toward him. “Here. Play the voicemails and call her right now. Tell her...tell her anything, something. She’s good for you. Get her back, Jeff.”
He stepped away from them and listened to the messages. All ten of them.
The air was sledgehammered out of his body. He slumped onto a bar stool and listened. A lump was in his throat when he closed the cell phone and faced his brother and sister.
“Matt, can you fly me to New York tonight?” he asked.
Matt raised his fist to the air. “Hell, yeah! Let’s go get her.”
“No. I have a score to settle with an asshole named Alfieri. That’s all.”
Chloe’s eyes were full of concern. “What did Michele say?”
He swallowed but the damned lump wouldn’t move. “She asked me to marry her. A few times. Eight, I think. Then waited for my answer. When I didn’t call, she told me she never wanted to see me again. Another man had stolen her joy once, and she wasn’t going to go through that again.”
Matt sucked in a hiss of breath. “Go talk to her, bro. You can fix this.”
The heat in Jeff’s gut begged him to race after her, grab her, kiss her until she changed her mind and came home with him.
But his mind knew otherwise.
“She’s right. I’d only break her beautiful sparkle. Crush her joy. I don’t deserve her.”
Matt made a half grunt and used one of his little boy’s catchphrases. “No, duh.”
“Matt!” Chloe slapped Matt’s arm.
“What? He doesn’t deserve her. That’s a given. We Harper men are totally screwed up. But here’s the thing...” Matt wrapped his arm over Jeff’s shoulder. “The right woman can make you a better man. I’m proof. I wake up every damned day amazed that Julia sees anything in me and go to bed praying, begging, that she never stops. Without her, I’m nothing. With her, I’m Matt on steroids, a flipping superhero.” His grin was full of awe. “With all the powers.”
“Go to her,” Chloe said. “Love her, Jeff.”
He couldn’t. He didn’t know how.
Nineteen
Michele was moving on. That’s what she told herself.
What choice did she have, since there was no going back?
She’d laid it all on the line for him, and he hadn’t even called her back to blow her off.
She owed Jeff a lot for helping her to see clearly and get her cooking mojo back. He’d taught her that she didn’t need any man to tell her who she was. Michele Cox was still a kick-ass chef. The voice in her head was her own. She was small, but she was also mighty, and she had the power to take care of herself and her sister now.
She was alone, yes, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it because she had three good job offers already. She would decide whi
ch one to take by the end of the week. Her goal now was to save enough money to start a restaurant of her own. A small one. Nothing like the posh restaurant Jeff was going to have, but it would be great. It would be hers. Stickerino’s, she might call it—after the horse who carried the heroine to the pirate’s treasure.
How she wished she could have kept the pirate as her treasure.
But he didn’t want her, or at least, not enough.
So, she was moving on and she would stop thinking about him.
Eventually.
That was her plan anyway, until that two-page newspaper article hit all the stands with two pictures of her kissing Jeffrey Harper and her short-lived romance became the topic of conversation everywhere she went.
And the paparazzi found out where Cari lived.
* * *
Jeff had intended to come to New York for Alfieri, and Alfieri alone. He hadn’t planned on seeing Michele, but now he had to. Because he had her money in his pocket and had a question to ask her.
Or that’s what he told himself.
About seventeen times.
But his insides were thrumming with heat and excitement at the thought of seeing her again. Just to give her the money and ask her the question, he reminded himself for time number eighteen.
He didn’t dare get too carried away. She probably hated him for not calling back after her emotional, heartfelt messages. And he knew he’d done the right thing by letting her go.
And yet, he still wanted to kiss her.
When he pulled up in front of her flat he couldn’t help but notice the photographers. They were like a committee of hungry buzzards waiting outside. She didn’t appear to be home. Good. He pulled up directions to the group home where he’d paid her sister’s rent and sped off.
Dammit, reporters were parked outside the group home, too. Why in the hell were they bothering Michele’s sister? Putting on a baseball cap, he walked inside.
The attendant at the front desk looked up warily. “Can I help you?”
“Hope so. I’m looking for Michele Cox.”
A Convenient Scandal Page 15