A Timeless Romance Anthology: Summer Wedding Collection
Page 9
He stopped walking to turn and look at me. I rolled my eyes at him, took my hand back so I could cross my arms over my chest, and said, “Este Lauder is not going to buy a picture of me for a lipstick ad.”
“Why not?” he asked.
I rolled my eyes a second time in response, but he leaned in to whisper in my ear. “You really do have great lips, which is why I’m not apologizing for being glad you aren’t engaged, and I’m not apologizing for the fact that I’ve been thinking about those lips since the first time you smiled at me.” He moved away again, almost before I could register how he’d made my legs feel much less steady than they’d been before.
He was flirting with me.
And I didn’t mind. At. All.
“You don’t have to worry about anything. You’ll get copies of all the pictures. We’ll even do a big blow up of whichever one is your favorite. So… ”
He gave me a smile wider than any of the others and took my hand again. “Let’s get you dinner, on me this time, since you didn’t actually get lunch. And put that pretty face and pretty dress to work.”
I barely knew the guy, and he had me feeling better about myself than I’d felt in, well... ever. How had he done that to me? I tried to give him one last out. “Jack, really, I can’t let you do this. I can pay for your time. You don’t need to make me a charity case.”
But he waved me off like I hadn’t said anything. He led me around the great lawn and the obelisk.
We ended up at the Metropolitan Museum.
“I’m a little overdressed for the café,” I said, thinking maybe he’d change his mind and let me put the whole day of shame on my credit card.
“We aren’t going to the café.” We headed to the fourth floor with Jack stopping every few minutes to arrange me in various locations throughout the museum so he could get a photo. I laughed, shook my head, but complied. There were worse things than being a model for Jack Montague.
Things like still being engaged to Adam.
Things like the day with Jack coming to an end.
I didn’t want this to come to an end.
Jack was recognized upon entering the restaurant. Not only recognized, but treated as an honored guest. I shot him a look that showed I was impressed, but he gave me a one shouldered-shrug and placed his hand at the small of my back to guide me to our table.
After we’d been seated by the windows overlooking the park, Jack said, “I would have booked the chef’s table if I’d known we’d be doing this tonight. But there wasn’t enough time to get that kind of reservation. Next time, though.”
Next time. He’d said there would be a next time!
Not wanting my excitement to be embarrassingly obvious, I turned to gaze out toward the park which was still highlighted by the sun’s afterglow.
I heard the click. Jack was taking more pictures. I laughed. “Do you ever put that thing down?”
“I put it down when life ceases to be interesting. Or sometimes, I put it down when I want to participate in life, rather than watch.” He set the camera down. “Like right now, I’d love to know what you’re thinking.”
I took a sip from my glass before answering. “I’m thinking that today was a nice surprise. I haven’t had a nice surprise in a long time. Thank you.”
“Sounds like you were due for a nice surprise. I’m sorry about Adam.”
I looked down at my place setting and fiddled with the napkin on my lap. “You mentioned he caused you misery before in your personal life. What did he do to you?”
Jack furrowed his brow. It was the first time his response hadn’t been one of amusement and smiles. “You don’t want to know about all that.”
“Are you kidding? You’ve heard all about my issues. It could be cathartic, like an Adam’s Anonymous group rehab.”
Jack leaned back in his chair with a great exhalation of breath. “He’s not a great person. Which is baffling. How did this not-great-person end up with you?”
It was my turn to squirm, though I recognized he’d shifted the conversation back to me rather than giving any information about his dealings with my ex. I answered anyway. “His dad’s company was involved in a small lawsuit regarding intellectual property. My law firm handled the cleanup. He was charismatic and... pushy, now that I think about it. I was caught up in the relationship before I even knew what was happening.” I frowned into my wine glass a moment. “You know, his parents never even knew about the suit because Adam worked hard to settle it all rather quietly. They didn’t even know their company was in trouble.”
“Sounds like Adam. Get in trouble, and buy your way out.”
I leaned back in my chair, mimicking the brooding kind of posture Jack had taken. “Which brings us back to you. What did Adam do to you?”
“Do I get another subject change?” he asked.
“Nope. You’ve used them up.”
He opened his mouth to tell me, but the waiter showed up at that moment to take our orders. Jack hurried to pick up his menu and studied it like he was trying to pass the Bar exam.
So, Jack got another subject change option after all, but that didn’t mean he was off the hook.
The waiter took our orders and finally went away.
“I didn't forget,” I said.
“That’s too bad because I kind of hoped you had. Fine. Adam and I are actually second cousins, so more family than simple family friends. Our moms were close friends as well as cousins, and that meant Adam and I spent a lot of time together as kids. His mom and dad were a lot like my mine. Both sets of parents wanted us to graduate from Harvard in business and then come home to run the mini empires our fathers had been running for their fathers.”
The waiter returned with a basket of warm rolls. Jack waited until he’d stepped away from the table to continue. “So anyway, while in our first year of school, Adam told me how much he didn’t want to be his dad’s minion and that he wanted to do something else with his life. I thought we were being sincere with each other and so I told him I’d already lined up a studio opportunity and had no plans to return to school the following year because I’d decided to be a professional photographer.”
Jack fell silent a moment and looked pretty ticked off.
“And?” I prompted when it seemed he might not continue.
“And he told my parents. They were furious, they managed to shut down my deal for the studio rental, and insisted I go back to school like a good son.”
I straightened, horrified. “Are you kidding? Your parents cancelled your rental contract?”
He nodded. “To be fair, they thought they were doing the right thing for me. They just didn’t get it. It’s kind of water under a burned bridge now. I didn’t go back to school—no matter how much they shouted, and found another place for my studio. It actually worked out for the best, because the new studio came with the garden. I’ve had some great images come out of that garden.”
“How are you with your parents now?” I asked.
“Strained, but it’s getting better. The fact that my personal business has been successful enough to merit nice media attention has allowed them to overlook the fact that I went against the family. But it was ugly there for a while. I have Adam to thank for that.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling somehow connected to the crime due to association with Adam.
“Not your fault. Anyway, it’s water—”
“Under a burned bridge,” I finished for him. “Something we have in common.”
We fell into contemplative silence for a few moments. When Jack started talking again, it was to change the subject. I let him have his subject change.
The rest of the conversation stayed focused on our careers—why we liked what we did, annoyances with the day-to-day details of our jobs, which for him was bossy mothers of the bride and for me was unscrupulous corporations. He made fun of me for being a young lawyer, so I explained how I graduated from high school with two years of college credit already earned.
It fascinated me to watch him interacting with someone else, to see his easy way of making others comfortable, of turning conversations so they were about the other person and not him. It wasn’t just me he changed subjects on, but everyone. Putting other people first in a conversation seemed to be a talent.
When dinner was through, Jack kept his word about making me his model. We hit the streets running. He found a Harley motorcycle on the street and asked the owner if we could use it as a photo prop. The owner agreed. Soon I was leaning over the handlebars while he clicked away.
On the subway, He had me leaning against the poles, putting my feet up across the aisles to the seats on the side, and staring out the graffiti covered windows. He had me leaning over the old man he’d seated me next to and reading from the guy’s newspaper, which had made the old man laugh.
In Times Square, he had me looking bored while sitting on the stairs at TKTS, pretending to buy dinner at a falafel vender, wearing a policeman’s hat and kissing the cheek of the officer we’d borrowed the hat from while the policeman looked stoic. He had me stand over vent shafts with their steam rising up out of the street, in front of construction barricade signs, and in front of boards littered with advertisements and playbills.
“My feet hurt.” I admitted as we took a cab to Grand Central Terminal so I didn't have to take the dress back down through the subway. That had been a little scary when the dress was so brilliantly white, and the subway was so... not. The dress had a couple of war marks that I hoped would come out.
“This will be our last stop.” He checked his phone for the time. “It’s late enough now, that crowds should be pretty thin. We’ll get a few more shots, and I’ll let you go home. You’ve been a great sport today. Thanks. Not many girls would be willing to take that dress into Times Square.”
“Or the subway.” I reminded him.
He laughed. “Definitely not the subway. Or eat hot dogs. Or climb trees. Really, you’re kind of the perfect model—still young enough to be adventurous.”
“It’s nice to know that even though I turn twenty five next Saturday, I can still claim to be young and adventurous. If anyone argues it with me, I’ll have them call you.”
“Ah, a birthday coming up. Any great plans?”
I blinked at him. There had been great plans. Adam was supposed to take me to Niagara Falls for a weekend road trip. Now I had no plans. I gave a smile that likely looked as uncertain as I felt and turned my attention to the taxi window instead of answering.
Thankfully, he didn't press the issue.
We arrived at the Grand Central Terminal where Jack led me inside. I smiled at all the people filtering through the terminal. Though it was later, and there were fewer people than there might have been during the commute, it was still plenty busy.
I didn't question Jack on his choice, though. This was his job.
At least, I didn’t question him until he lay on the terminal floor. “What are you doing? You’re going to get trampled!”
“Stand over my legs. It’ll keep people from walking on me.”
I grunted and blew out a long breath. We would end up spending the night in the hospital with this kind of antic. But I stood over him, placing my feet on either side of his hips, which meant he was nearly entirely covered by the skirt of my dress—everything but his arms and head.
And his camera.
He was immediately taking pictures again, giving me directions for tilting my head, different facial expressions he wanted, how to lean my body so he’d get the right angle—with me in the foreground and the constellation ceiling in the background.
I couldn’t see how a shot of this sort would actually look decent but complied with his every instruction.
“Got it. We can go home, now.” He started to squiggle out from under my dress, which had to look pretty shifty to anyone else looking on, but who cared? The chances of me seeing anyone I knew here were pretty slim.
Then the small world we lived in shrank considerably.
“Juliet? Juliet, what are you doing?”
Adam’s parents stood across from me, staring bug-eyed as I stood in the dress their son was supposed to have married me in.
I think I stopped breathing.
Chapter Five
“Mrs. Verona. Mr. Verona. . .” I stammered as Jack removed himself from my skirts, stood, dusted himself off and smiled at my ex-future-in-laws. “Hello. How are you?”
If heat was any indicator, I had to be as red as a fresh lava flow.
“We’re fine,” Mrs. Verona said slowly. Her eyes sketched over to Jack, then back to me. Mr. Verona had looked at us but then looked away as if we weren’t worth his notice. “We’re just dropping off a friend here at the station. We met them in town for dinner and a show.”
They probably had a cab waiting outside. The Verona family didn’t do public transportation.
Her gaze trailed down my dress. “You look...”
I don’t know what she planned on saying. Was it a compliment? An insult? But instead of finishing her thought, she smiled and shook her head as if the devil himself couldn’t drag the next word from her lips. She turned instead to Jack.
“And just what are you doing here?”
“Taking pictures.” Jack held up his camera as if Mrs. Verona required evidence.
“Are you prepared for the art show?” she said. “After all the work I went through to set things up, I’d hate it if you weren’t ready.”
“I’m ready.” He assured her. “Just getting a few last minute additions. Juliet here was kind enough to be my model.”
She forced herself to turn to me again. “Is that why you’re wearing your wedding dress? I did wonder... it seemed strange that you’d have it on after breaking off the engagement with Adam.”
I fell back a step as if she’d given a slight shove. “Wait. What? He told you I broke up with him?”
“He did say that—”
Jack placed a hand at the small of my back to try to offer me comfort, or maybe to keep me from flying off the handle. I wasn’t certain. He couldn’t have known that this woman brought out the worst in me.
Her eyes narrowed as they drank in the scene with Jack and me being at the terminal together. “Well... He said you had a wandering eye... I see that’s true. How very pedestrian of you to go after the photographer we set up for you.”
If Jack hadn’t known that Mrs. Verona brought out my worst, he should have suspected it with that statement. My heart rate jacked to a point that my chest hurt. For several stupid moments, all I could do was stare at her.
“And I’ll be talking to your mother about this, Jack,” she said.
Really? She really just threatened to tattle on him? After insulting me?
I moved to step closer to her, feeling anger surge through my veins when Jack pressed my arm to steer me away from them, maybe worried I’d take a swing if left to my own devices.
“For your information,” I said, jumping in before Jack could move me too far. “Your pathetic excuse of a cheating, lying son broke up with me because the girl he was seeing behind my back didn't like that he was getting married. You should be proud. He’s just like his father.”
The couple’s eyes widened, but I plowed ahead. “But I’m not really worried about it, because happily, he’s not my problem anymore. I’ll be sure to send him a thank-you note, unless that’s too pedestrian for your son.”
Jack continued to push me toward the exit. He turned back to Mrs. Verona for a brief moment with a shrug while calling out that he’d tell his mother she said hello.
He hailed a cab while I fumed and contemplated going back inside to yell some more. I had barely ever spoken above a whisper to Mrs. Verona before. It felt good to allow myself to be angry.
“Well, that was unexpected,” Jack said once he’d hailed us a
cab and safely ushered me inside.
I crossed my arms over my chest and closed my eyes. “He told her I’d been the one to cheat! How could he say that about me, especially when it wasn’t me at all? That... snake!”
I felt Jack’s eyes on me as he said, “The Veronas are a proud family. They believe whatever they have to in order to continue feeling superior. Don’t let it bother you.”
My eyes flew open. “Oh no. What about you? They’re friends with your parents. You’re related! She said she was going to talk to your mom. Please forgive me for causing a scene. I can’t believe I yelled at her. I didn’t even yell at Adam when he’d called off the wedding. Why did I lose control like that now?”
“I’d guess it’s because you’ve had time to think about it, and probably because he lied to his parents by making you the bad guy. That’s enough to make anyone angry. It didn't bother me. We’re good.”
But were we good?
“You don’t believe Adam’s mom, do you?” I asked. “What she said about me?”
He looked startled by the question, and then he laughed. “I’ve known Adam my whole life. Trust me. I don’t believe anything his mom says about him.”
He acted fine, like he didn’t really care that I’d called out Adam for being a cheater like his dad. Did I actually say that out loud? I was such an idiot!
Mrs. Verona said she’d talk to Jack’s mom. Was he worried about that? Had I ruined something for him with my temper flare? I kept thinking of ways to apologize, but couldn’t say anything more than I had without sounding desperate.
“Wait here,” Jack told the cab driver as he handed him enough to cover our tab as well as my ride back home, still leaving a sizeable amount left over for a tip.
“I can pay for my own cab fare,” I said once we were out of the cab. “And I’d really like to cover the cost of the pictures. I want to do the right thing.”