Jamie wanted to be changing diapers in five years, too. She sighed and stuck her hand up to flag a cab that was approaching.
“If you tell her now, it will just weird her out, and she’s getting married in exactly two weeks. If you have to tell her, at least wait until after the wedding.”
“I can do that, I guess.” The last thing in the world Jamie wanted was to add to the stress Caroline was feeling in the final countdown to her wedding.
She got in the cab. “Sixth and Greenwich, please.” Slamming the door, she shifted the phone. “But I am begging you to run interference for me at the wedding…I don’t think I can look Jack in the eye without blushing.”
“That good?” Allison asked with scandalized glee.
Oh, yeah. That good. Just the memory made her inner thighs feel zapped by lightning.
With a whisper, Jamie said, “Over a chair, Allison. That’s all I’m going to say.”
“No way.” Allison gave a delighted laugh. “Why don’t accidents like that ever happen to me?”
Jack came out of sleep slowly. He turned a few times, tangled himself up in the sheet, yawned, and forced his eyes open, anticipating the sight of Jamie asleep, naked, beside him.
He was disappointed to find the bed empty, despite a quick glance at the clock showing it was only five o’clock. So much for waking Jamie up with a kiss and a strategically placed hand.
The smell of coffee floated into the bedroom and urged him to sit up in bed. Jamie had been up long enough to make coffee already, and he was wasting time sleeping. Time they could be together.
As he ran a hand through his hair, he noticed the closet door was open. He must have left it open last night in his haste to get to his dinner with Jamie.
He hoped she didn’t have plans for the next few days. He had every intention of spending every minute with her, especially since tonight he had to go to Brad’s bachelor party and wouldn’t be able to see Jamie. A bachelor party lost hands down to a night with Jamie, but he couldn’t exactly get out of it. Brad was marrying his sister Caroline the week after next, and it wouldn’t be forgivable if Jack missed tonight’s party.
But that left the rest of today and hopefully tomorrow. And forever and a day after that. As he stood up and pulled on a pair of boxers and shorts, he wondered if it was possible to fall in love in twenty-four hours. Love was about the only word he could think of to explain how he was feeling.
The perfect rightness of Jamie in his arms, in his bed, in his heart.
It was crazy, but true.
He felt a little like he’d been run over by a semi-truck crashing through the Lincoln Tunnel.
Jack started down the hall toward the kitchen, popping into the bathroom to make sure Jamie wasn’t in there taking a shower or something. He could offer assistance if she was, but the bathroom was empty.
He had the sneaking suspicion the semi-truck feeling wasn’t going to go away. It was Jamie. She was amazing. Sweet, shy, yet so giving, so generous with herself.
She was everything he was looking for in a woman.
Jack glanced in the living room and finally stopped in the kitchen, bewildered.
What Jamie was, was gone.
What the hell?
Jack looked around again, as if expecting her to suddenly pop up from behind the stove.
How could she have left? It wasn’t possible.
A frantic search of the living room showed that her bra and her purse were gone, and her jeans and shoes were missing from the bedroom. The only thing he found was her torn flower shirt, kicked under his coffee table.
Clutching the fabric in bewilderment, he looked for a note left in the kitchen or on his nightstand, but couldn’t find any.
Finally, he stopped in his living room and stood staring at the door in disbelief, the shirt pressed against his chest. She had left. Without a word. Without a note.
After the most incredible dinner, night, morning of his life, she had disappeared. Not a call me, a see ya, a thanks for the memories, a you suck in bed…nothing.
All she had left him was a pot of coffee, still warm.
“You did what?” Beckwith shrieked at her, causing other diners to glance their way.
Jamie winced and picked at her bagel. “I left.” Normally she loved big Sunday breakfasts, but this time she didn’t have any appetite. That was a serious first, noteworthy in the Jamie Peters record book. Disinterest in food. Maybe she was getting sick.
Maybe she was just an idiot. For more than one reason. But she felt compelled to defend herself. “I told you, he lied to me. I don’t like people lying to me. It shatters all trust. And he’s rich, Beckwith. Rich people make me uncomfortable.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” was Beckwith’s opinion on the subject. He fussed with the back of his diamond solitaire earring. He had gone for the Connecticut brunch look. Silk blouse, light make-up, designer slacks, pointy-toed pumps.
“I told you a dishonest act was going to bring him to you. You should have been mentally prepared for a lie. I’m sure he had a good reason.”
“And every man I work with had a good reason for committing the crime he did. I don’t want excuses. I want someone who can take responsibility and tell the truth.” It was still so darn hard to reconcile the tender and sexy lover Jack with the millionaire Jonathon. She didn’t understand why he had lied to her and didn’t think the reason was really going to be anything she wanted to hear.
Beckwith waved his hand as if all of that were unimportant. “I practically spoon fed you true love, and you just walk away? Without getting his number or last name?” Spearing a grape, he pointed it at her. “You panicked and ran scared. Being rich is never a bad thing in my book, honey.”
He shook his head mournfully. “True love. It was so damn beautiful. There were all kinds of little happy auras all over your cards, and you just spit on it and throw it away. I’m Jamie, I’m too good for love, don’t need it, I’m a Bolshevik hippie going to give away all my money because money is bad…”
That cut through her melancholy and made her laugh. “Okay, now you’re being flat-out crazy. And I didn’t get his last name because I didn’t need to. I saw the pictures. He’s Caroline’s brother. That was his apartment.” She shuddered just thinking about the horror, the humiliation. “That place was like an exercise in isolation. It screamed workaholic.”
“And you’re not a workaholic?”
“No!” Jamie sat back in shock, abandoning her bagel altogether. “Of course not.”
“Please. You work ten, twelve hours a day for peanuts. You let cases call you at home, on the weekend. You open yourself up both financially and emotionally. You’re having brunch with me, an ex-con cross-dressing psychic, for God’s sake. You, my darling, are a workaholic.”
They were dining alfresco on a little patio outside the bagel shop. A breeze kicked up and sent her hair tumbling across her eyes. Swiping at it, Jamie tried to convince herself Beckwith’s words were just flat-out wrong. “I’m dedicated. Committed to my career.”
Her voice didn’t sound as convincing and firm as she would have liked it to.
Apparently Beckwith agreed. “So is Jack. The only difference between the two of you is he’s a Republican.”
“That’s a pretty big difference.” Peasant skirts and designer suits didn’t go together.
“This isn’t about politics. It’s about love.” He brought his right hand up and formed an L with his fingers, showing off his French manicure. “The big L. Destiny. The One.”
Jamie had found herself waffling all morning, wondering if she had done the right thing in leaving. It wasn’t like her to run away from a situation. She liked to talk through things, resolve with communication. But nothing was going to change the fact that Jack/Jonathon had lied to her and she felt like a humongous fool.
Beckwith’s words reminded her just how much.
“Beck, it’s exactly that kind of talk that got me into this in the first place. If I hadn’t been so s
ure that Jack was The One, I wouldn’t have gone home with him. I wouldn’t have slept with him, and I wouldn’t find myself in the very embarrassing situation I am in. I let my fortune, my vision of the future, cloud my judgment, and that makes me feel as naïve as people say I am.”
She had always prided herself on being compassionate but intelligent, willing to take a chance on people without being gullible and blind. This made her feel like a joke. Like the goofy girl from Kentucky that everyone humored. Usually she didn’t care what people thought of her. She was confident, knew who she was, liked herself.
But she had opened up to Jack, told him personal feelings, hopes, dreams, and it hurt like hell to think he might not have been sincere. Especially since she had been just fine without a man until he’d come along. This was what she got for thinking Jamie Peters could have a wild, sexual fling. She couldn’t kiss a man without wanting to knit him a scarf.
Beckwith didn’t answer for a minute, chewing a bite of his omelet, gaze drifting over to the street. Then he pinned her with a hard stare. “All I know is you can’t fuck with fate. If you do, it will just bitch-slap you back.”
Then she was even. Because she pretty much felt like she’d been slapped already.
Chapter 10
“You’re really going to call her?” Steve crossed his arms and gave him a look of disapproval.
“Yes, I’m going to call her.” Jack spun around in his desk chair and reached for the phone. Wandering around his apartment Sunday feeling sorry for himself—not to mention getting shit-faced drunk Saturday at the bachelor party—had not made for a rousing end to his weekend. He had impatiently waited for Monday so he could get to the office and call Jamie at work, where she’d be less tempted to say nasty things to him when he tried to apologize.
He’d heard Steve’s message on his machine, coming in at four P.M. on Saturday. Jack didn’t know if Jamie had heard the call or not, but it certainly would explain her leaving without saying a word.
Somehow he had to find a way to fix things, to make sure she understood his intentions were good, if a bit screwed up. He couldn’t stand the thought that this was it. That there was no future for them.
“Jack, if a woman leaves your apartment without a word after you’ve had sex, she is giving you a very clear message—leave me alone.”
Jack steepled his fingers together and stared at his cousin. “How do you know we had sex?”
Steve rolled his eyes and adjusted his red tie. “Because I’m not an idiot. Look, just let it go. You had fun, it’s done.”
“No.” The very thought appalled him. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was let go of the perfect woman without some kind of discussion, explanation, second chance. Everything was fixable. Failure was not an option.
He picked up the phone and dialed.
Steve shook his head. “Oh, man, this is so embarrassing. I’m embarrassed watching you embarrass yourself.”
Jack just glared at him and waited for someone to pick up his call.
“Beechwood Social Services, how may I help you?”
“Could I speak to Jamie Peters, please.”
“One moment.”
Drumming his fingers on his desk, Jack fidgeted in his chair and glanced around his office, decorated in modern industrial by his grandfather. He liked this job, even if there was no challenge for him. Yet he felt the pull to go back, the restlessness, the need to do something different again.
But first he had to fix things with Jamie before he worried about career boredom. He put the phone on his shoulder and gave Steve a pointed look. “Do you mind?”
“No.”
“Get out.”
“No. I’m staying to save you from yourself.”
“All you’re doing is annoying me. Go away—” Jack shut up when he heard Jamie say hello.
“Jamie? This is Jack.” He turned to the window, away from Steve, pleased just to hear her voice again.
“Jack or Jonathon Davidson?” she asked tightly.
Uh-oh. “Well, both, actually. I answer to both Jack and Jonathon. Jack’s just my nickname like I told you. You can call me whatever you want.” Then before she could delve any further into that, he said, “So, are you busy tonight? Let me make you dinner.”
“In your apartment?”
She definitely knew who he was. No question about it. “Yeah, uh, listen, we need to talk. I want to clear a few things up. Maybe we could meet for lunch. I’ll come to your office.” He was fumbling, caught off-guard by the coldness in her voice, and by the realization that he had lied to her and it was going to be hard to explain that away.
But he was damn sure going to try.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Good-bye, Jack.”
She hung up on him. Jack jerked the phone back and stared at it. She had hung up on him. Never could he have imagined that Jamie, his sweet Jamie, would hang up on him. He really was up shit creek without a paddle.
Steve rubbed his hand over his chin. “Cut your losses, man. I’m serious. You’re setting yourself up for total humiliation.”
“No.” Jack wasn’t going to give up that easily. He called Beechwood right back. “Jamie Peters, please.”
“One moment.”
“Jack, I’m not interested,” Jamie said as a greeting.
“How did you even know it was me?” he asked, relieved that she had picked up, even if she sounded annoyed.
“We have caller ID,” Jamie said testily.
“We need to talk. I need to explain about the apartment, need you to understand that I wasn’t trying to be deceitful. I just get so used to women wanting to date me for my money that I’m cautious not to reveal too much until I know a woman better.”
Steve was still in front of his desk, and now he was very dramatically playing an imaginary violin. Jack picked up a paper clip and winged it at him. Get out, he mouthed to his incredibly nosy cousin.
Jamie snorted. “By the third time I’d say you knew me pretty well.”
Ouch. “Jamie…I’m sorry. I should have told you it’s my apartment, you’re absolutely right. I could tell by the end of dinner that you weren’t a money hungry kind of person. But you looked so freaked out when you saw my building…you said you wouldn’t date anyone who lived there.” Jesus, this was not helping. Jack rubbed his eyebrows. “You know, I really don’t want to do this over the phone. Can I take you to lunch, dinner, coffee?”
“No, thank you. Good-bye, Jack.”
The dial tone hit his ear again. “Damn it!”
He punched the redial button. “Beechwood Social Services, how may I help you?”
“Jamie Peters.”
“One moment.”
Jack was starting to think the receptionist was a recording. She had virtually no expression in her voice, aside from polite boredom.
A second later Jamie picked up. “Stop calling here,” she whispered fiercely.
“Then let me see you.” Aware that he was starting to sound like a stubborn five-year-old, he changed tones. Let his voice drop. “I miss you, Jamie. My bed was so damn lonely without you last night.”
She gave a heartfelt sigh. “Don’t…”
He could sense her hesitation, her desire to believe him, to return to where they’d been Saturday afternoon. “Just hear me out, gorgeous. Give me a chance to explain. You said everyone deserves a second chance.”
“Jack…”
“I’ll cry,” he teased.
She gave a soft laugh. “Right.”
“I’m serious. Please just let me see you.”
There was a long pause. Then she said, “Fine. I’ll meet you for coffee. Just coffee. Nothing else.”
“Great. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Jack pumped his fist in the air and whirled his chair around. “See you then. Bye, Jamie.”
He hung up before she had a chance to change her mind. Steve lounged against the doorframe, his coffee mug in his hand.
“You’re insane.”
&nb
sp; “Probably. But I also think I’m in love and that’s worth going a little crazy over.”
Steve lifted an eyebrow. “You’d better take a peace offering.”
Jack stood up. “Good plan. Flowers? No, not for Jamie. What do I give a woman like Jamie?” Jewelry wasn’t right either. “How do I show her I’m sorry, I’m sincere, I respect her?”
“The way you’ve described her, she sounds like a bleeding heart. So you could give money to her favorite charity.”
Just when he thought Steve served no purpose other than to annoy him, his cousin pulled something brilliant out of his ass. “That’s a great idea. I’ll give money to her agency. What do you think? Five grand? Ten grand?”
“Whoa. Not her agency. We’ve been through this. It’s time to call the feds on Beechwood, not donate to them.”
“No, it has to be her agency. It’s a show of faith. Then maybe she’ll let me root out the guy who’s day trading.”
“Bad idea.”
Jack moved around him, patting his pocket for his wallet and keys. “No, it’s not.”
“It’s called complicity—accessory to a crime. You have knowledge of illegal activity and you’re not reporting it.”
“It’s not that black-and-white.” Jack gave Steve a wave and went out to beg and plead if necessary.
To coax and cajole.
To kiss and lick until Jamie saw that they were meant to be together.
That was the problem with having too much time on his hands. With no job, no apartment, and lazy summer days stretching out long and hot, he couldn’t help but find himself in front of Jamie’s office again.
Lunchtime. She liked to bring her lunch outside and eat in the little garden next to the social services building. There were vegetables growing in uneven rows, and Jamie always spread her lunch out on the picnic table and flipped through a magazine while she ate.
She was pretty, sweet and innocent. She smiled for everyone, including him when she’d met his eye on the sidewalk, which had made him feel good.
He should leave her alone.
But he couldn’t help himself. The need to see her was overwhelming, the only bright spot in long, restless days.
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