Pulling slightly out of his embrace, suddenly realizing that it felt really damn good to be against his chest, Jamie sniffled and tried to stem her tears. “I need to go call my mom. Did you see how he was dressed, Jack? He looks…poor.” She’d certainly seen the signs of poverty often enough to recognize it. “Maybe not destitute, but lean. Down on his luck. What if he’s homeless?”
Jack led her over to the picnic table. He sat on the bench and pulled her onto his lap, and she didn’t even try to resist. She was always the one who comforted, who cosseted, who cared. It was nice to have someone to lean on just once, for a quick minute.
“We can find him, Jamie, if that’s what you want. It shouldn’t be that hard, even if he’s living in a shelter. The question more is, do you want to see him again?”
Perched on Jack’s thigh, she went to wipe her tears off with her finger, but he shoved his tie in front of her.
“Use this.” He dabbed at her with it.
“To dry my eyes?” She gave a startled laugh and tried to pull back. “That’s probably like a hundred-dollar tie.”
“You already ruined my three-hundred-dollar shoes by spilling Coke on them, and a hundred-dollar T-shirt with spaghetti sauce. What’s a measly eighty-dollar tie?” And with a great deal of tenderness, he used the tip of the tie to wipe her cheeks.
She felt the corner of her mouth turn up. “Is that all your shoes are worth? I would have thought they were more.”
“Sale at Steve Madden.”
A giggle bubbled up. “You know, what you paid for those clothes could probably buy a goat for a family in Africa, providing them with milk and dairy products for years.”
His mouth twitched. “Thanks, Sally Struthers. But instead of a goat, what I paid for these clothes provided wages for cattle ranchers, truck drivers, multiple garment workers, button and zipper manufacturers, and retail salesclerks. Not to mention my dry cleaner. I’m driving the US economy, babe. And looking good doing it.”
Jamie laughed, part amusement, part relief that he was here with her, distracting her, steadying her. “An alternate perspective I hadn’t considered.”
Jack was quiet for a minute, his hand stroking her back, wondering if he should just keep his mouth shut and enjoy the moment before she regained her sense and told him to fuck off. But he had seen the hurt, the torment on her face, and it had torn at his own heart. When she had turned, tears streaming down her face, he would have done anything to take that pain away.
Including blow his chances with her. So he ventured, “Maybe your father has a different viewpoint.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe he’s afraid you’ll reject him.” Like Jack himself was.
“Maybe.”
She wasn’t rejecting him yet. She was snuggled cozily into his chest, and his thoughts were shifting into dark, dangerous areas. Ones that involved this same position but without clothes. Of course, he was intelligent enough to know the odds of her appreciating his carnal thoughts right at that moment were about ten thousand to one, so he clamped down on his lust, his desire, his love.
And truthfully, he was enjoying cuddling her, comforting her in a way that wasn’t sexual but tender.
A random thought popped into his head. He gripped her more firmly, straightening up. “You know what? I know where I saw him now,” he said, positive he was right. “It was on the subway the day we met. When you got on and stumbled, you almost collided with a guy wearing grungy clothes, lots of tattoos, older than you, but not old, old. And I stepped in between so you wouldn’t touch him. So you would touch me.”
“What?” She jerked back from him. Stared up at him in amazement.
“Yeah, so maybe he’s been following you or something.” Not that Jack liked the sound of that, father or not. That was a little weird. Of course, he had no freaking room to talk.
“That doesn’t make sense…” Her words trailed off as she looked out across the street.
She wound his tie around her finger, pulling tighter with each turn, until he felt discomfort at the back of his neck.
“It may not make sense, but you don’t need to choke me,” he said lightly.
Absently, she refocused her gaze on him and unfurled her finger. “Sorry.”
Her lips were cherry red from sitting out in the afternoon sun, her cheeks a pale, sharp contrast to her freckles and dewy hairline. Her skirt spread over his legs in a colorful maze of purple and olive green, and her flowing white shirt hid all her curves.
If she didn’t forgive him, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to accept that.
But she stared up at him, breath short and raw, eyes wide and awed, nail flicking across the button on his shirt. “Jack, do you believe in destiny?”
He opened his mouth, not sure what the answer was going to be. He had always been a by-the-numbers kind of guy, a make-your-own-destiny purveyor. But could he accept that it was fate that forced him to take a look at Jamie? Absolutely. Could he believe that destiny had pulled him off of Wall Street? Maybe.
But before he could answer, she continued.
“My friend, Beckwith, he tells fortunes. Months ago, he told me I was going to meet a man during an accident with food. On something moving. That this man would make me happy.”
That sent a cold rush of awareness tripping up his spine. That sounded like the day they’d met. Which just made it a coincidence.
“I didn’t believe him, but then that day, in the station, Beckwith called me to tell me it was about to happen, and then I hung up, ran forward and…right into you.”
Jack’s throat felt tight. His shoulders stiff. This was starting to make him uncomfortable.
“I thought it was you…I thought Beckwith meant you. But if you stepped in between us, maybe he really meant my father. Maybe I’m supposed to make things right with my dad.”
No, he did not like where this was going. Because he was pretty damn sure it left him out in the cold. “Maybe it’s all a coincidence.”
She shook her head. “Or maybe we interfered with destiny.”
“Maybe this was our destiny. You were supposed to meet me. I can make you happy,” he said, running his lips across the top of her head.
“Or maybe I can never succeed at a relationship until I fix things with my father. Maybe the timing for us is all wrong.”
Nothing had felt wrong between them, until he’d screwed up and failed to tell her the truth. “Maybe knowing your destiny is a mistake, because in searching for it, you manufacture it.”
Leaning back, Jamie cocked her head, thought that through, her lips parted. “Maybe you’re right,” she whispered. “Maybe I imagined things because I wanted to believe destiny was at hand.”
Abruptly, she stood up. “Maybe we need to leave well enough alone.”
Too late, he realized where she was headed with her line of thinking. “No, Jamie, that’s not what I meant.”
But she merely smiled at him, a soft, serene smile, her cheeks still streaked from dried tears. She kissed the tip of her fingertip and brought it to his lips. “Maybe it’s time to be friends. Just friends.”
Jack kissed her flesh, lingering over the plump pad of her index finger, tracing her salty skin with his tongue, not wanting to give her up. “We’re more than friends.” Jesus, way more than friends.
She pulled her hand back. “You can look into Beechwood’s money problem or you can call the FBI. It’s up to you. Thanks for the shoulder to cry on and…everything.”
“Jamie…” This couldn’t be all there was. It couldn’t be the end.
But she just gave him a wave and a sad smile and went into the building, the door snicking shut behind her.
And he took his sticky shoes and his wet tie and he went home.
Chapter 12
Jack Davidson knew when to buy and when to sell. He knew when a risk was too great, when it was a sure thing. He played put-options to his favor, and almost always won.
Money he could do. Dollars talked to him, gave him
a direction in which to go. He had a fancy college degree stuck in his desk drawer, and he had a nice wad of cash rapidly making more cash for him while he sat back and watched it toil on his behalf.
That was all fine and good. But he was utterly clueless when it came to women. No instincts. Lousy success rate. And a volatile market.
Steve’s advice had exploded like shrapnel, nailing both him and Jamie. Jack didn’t know what strategy should be implemented at this point, so he did what any sane man would do.
He called his sister. A woman’s opinion was required if he had any chance of being successful with Jamie.
After the usual greetings, he paced across his living room Monday night and went straight to what was bothering him. “Listen, Caro, what would you do if a guy you slept with lied to you?” He added, “For a good reason.”
“I’d tell him to have a nice life and never see him again.”
Shit. “Why? What if he was trying to protect you? What if he apologized?” Jack bundled up the red cashmere blanket that he and Jamie had abandoned on the sofa, prepared to fling it into his closet.
“I’d figure once a liar, always a liar. If he can lie about the little stuff, he can lie about the big stuff.”
One small mistake and a guy has to pay for it for the rest of his life.
“Not necessarily. And what if he wanted to make amends? Show it wasn’t going to happen again.”
“Actions speak louder than words, Jonathon.”
And right now he was burying his nose in the blanket and trying to catch a stray trace of Jamie’s scent. My God, he was pathetic.
“True. Hey, Caro, do you believe in destiny?” He shoved the blanket behind a throw pillow.
She snorted. “No.”
That shouldn’t surprise him. Caroline was a true Davidson. She was aggressive, determined, and when she wanted something, she went after it. He had always been the same way. Was still that way. But somehow, he was wondering if there was more to the concept of fate. He’d have sworn everything that had happened between him and Jamie was meant to be.
“Why do you think certain things happen, then?”
“Randomness. Coincidence. Human choices. Take your pick. I believe in controlling my own destiny.”
That was it, wasn’t it? Destiny might play a part, but choices and actions drove your future.
Jack believed in controlling his own destiny. And that’s what he was going to do.
Jamie sat down in the big overstuffed chair in her apartment, a pint of mint chocolate chip next to her for emergency bites. This was not a conversation she wanted to have, but it was unavoidable. Taking a deep breath, she dialed her mom on her cell phone.
“Hey, honey,” her mother answered after two rings.
“Hi, Mama. How are you?” Jamie closed her eyes and sighed. Her mother was a wonderful woman, resourceful and loving. Yet she was going to be upset to hear about her ex-husband, Jamie was sure of it.
“Great, though hot. It’s been over ninety all week.”
There was the sound of chopping in the background, and Jamie imagined her mother was fixing herself a salad for dinner. “Listen, Mom, when my father left…did you know where he went?”
There was a startled silence; then her mother gave a little laugh. “Shoot, where did that come from? I thought you got over all that wondering about your father during your teen years.”
Maybe that’s what her mother had wanted to believe, but Jamie had never really stopped wondering. She had gotten over it, for the most part, she had thought. But she’d never stopped wanting to know why.
Rubbing her hands over her skirt, she stared out the window at the building across the street. A big fat pigeon was doing reconnaissance on the ledge. “I’m asking because I think I saw him today. He was hanging around outside my work, and he called me Jamie Lynn. It wasn’t until he walked away that I recognized his voice.”
The gasp from her mother was pure shock and horror. “Oh, my God, baby, you stay away from him, ya hear me? Call the cops if you see him again.”
“What? Why?” She had expected her mother to be upset, uncomfortable, maybe even a little bitter. She hadn’t expected fear.
Her mother hesitated, but finally she sighed. “I never wanted to tell you. I didn’t think it mattered. I figured gone was gone and that’s all you needed to know.”
“Mama, you’re scaring me. What are you talking about?” Jamie gripped the pint of ice cream, but had no thought to eat it.
“Your father left because he figured out the FBI was closing in on him. He decided to run and leave us to fend for ourselves.”
“Why was the FBI after him?” She didn’t like the sound of this. It almost sounded as if her mother was saying…
“During the late sixties and early seventies your father was a very vocal antiwar, anti-nuclear weapons demonstrator. He did some breaking and entering, too, to burn draft cards. I imagine they would have let him go after a few years in hiding if he hadn’t accidentally burned down a whole building, killing the night janitor.”
“Oh, dear God.” Jamie covered her mouth. She could not reconcile the man who’d held her as a child, loved her, with a violent activist.
“He didn’t tell me any of that when we met and married. It was only later, when he thought his time was running out, that he bothered to mention any of it. I knew he was in the antiwar movement, and I believed him when he said it was all nonviolent, nonconfrontational. I do believe it was an accident, that he never meant to hurt anyone, but I can’t forgive him for dragging me, then you, into the mess he’d made. A responsible man would have admitted his mistake and accepted the consequences.”
“So he’s been in jail all these years?” Jamie closed her eyes again, her throat tight. Destiny propelled people along, but choices could change an entire life. Lives. How would all three of their lives been different if her father hadn’t lit that match?
But that was neither here nor there.
“I know he ran for the first few years after he left because the FBI watched our house randomly, checking to see if he had contacted us. As you know, he never did. Then in the late eighties I heard he was arrested and sent back to New York, where he was convicted of manslaughter. It was my understanding he got twenty years.”
“Apparently he’s been paroled.” Jamie pressed her fingers to her temples. When the heck had the FBI been watching their house? The very idea made her shiver. While she’d been riding her horse? Sunbathing with her girlfriends? It wasn’t a pleasant path to stroll down.
“Well, you stay the hell away from him, Jamie Lynn. He can’t bring you anything but trouble and heartache. He doesn’t deserve to call us family, not after the way he lied, not after the way he left me alone to deal with the consequences of his actions. I can’t even get remarried if I wanted to, because for the first few years I didn’t know where he was, then I didn’t want you to know he was sitting in prison, so we were never divorced.”
“Well, at the very least, maybe now is the time to finally file for divorce, Mama.” She let out a laugh before she could stop herself. It was so completely unbelievable, so ridiculous, so screwed up.
She’d known her parents’ marriage had ended badly. That had been obvious. But she had never dreamt the extent of the dysfunction in her family. No wonder the man hadn’t spoken to her. He had no way of knowing what she knew or didn’t know. He was probably terrified of an ugly confrontation.
Her mom choked back a sob. “I wasn’t expecting this. God, it’s been twenty years and it hurts just as much as the day he left. I don’t know if I could handle speaking to him about a divorce.”
“Mama, it’s okay.” Jamie forgot about her own worries, feelings. It was awful to hear her mother, who had been a rock for all those years, sound so emotional. So hurt. Myra Peters had defined strength as a single mother. Her whole life Jamie had never once seen her mom cry, and here there was a sniffle and a tremble in her voice.
Maybe she’d spent so much time stayin
g strong for her daughter, she’d never dealt with her own grief and hurt.
“You do whatever you think you need to do, Mama. There’s no hurry, no worry. I can find him or I can let it go. I don’t think he wanted anything. I think he just wanted to…see me. That’s all.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth, baby girl. I was trying to protect you. And maybe protect myself, too.”
“That’s okay, Mom. It’s not like I could have seen him anyway.” She took a deep breath, fingered the lid of the ice cream. “I had a good life. I have a good life, thanks to you.”
“You always were such a good girl, Jamie Lynn. I’ve always been proud of you.”
“I know.” Crossing her legs, she wondered why it had been a whole year since she’d seen her mother. She’d give just about anything to have her soft arms around her right then. “Listen, I just need a bit of time to think. How about I call you again tomorrow?”
“Sounds like a good idea. I love you.”
“Love you, too, Mama. Bye.”
“Bye now.”
Jamie cradled the phone in her hand and marveled that while her entire childhood had just shifted and altered in meaning, she felt exactly the same as she always had. In fact, she felt better. Her father hadn’t gotten tired of his wife and daughter and gone on to a second family. He hadn’t stopped loving his wife, and by default stopped loving the daughter she’d given him.
Jim Peters had been a desperate man, running from his past, and looking to protect his family.
Jamie stopped feeling for herself and shifted that emotion over to him. What a lonely, empty life he’d had.
She’d been loved and cherished, surrounded by her mother’s family and good friends. What had he had?
The phone in her hand rang. She glanced at the caller ID, worried it was her mother.
Davidson, Jonathon.
Sighing, she answered. “Hi Davidson, Jonathon.”
Unwrapped Bundle with You Don't Know Jack & Bad Boys in Kilts Page 38