by Loree Lough
He had loved Lillie, more than he’d loved any woman before or since. Loved her still, despite his best efforts to smother it. As for being supportive, how many chances was he supposed to give her?
“Look, Dora, I know you mean well, but trust me, there were a lot of things you didn’t see or hear, things I’ve never talked about.” Like the times Lillie had overdosed, and if he hadn’t been around to rush her to the ER...
He knuckled his eyes, hoping to rub away the painful images. “Anyway, I appreciate your concern, but you can relax. Whitney and I aren’t fighting.”
She stared at him for a few seconds before saying, “That’s good, because you’re the closest thing I have to a brother, and I want you to be happy.”
“I have everything a guy could want—good job as CEO of a thriving company, nice condo, enough money to keep the wolf from the door, loving family, gorgeous, successful girlfriend—who just hinted that she loves me, for your information—so why on earth wouldn’t I be happy.”
“Oh, Jase...she did?”
Unless he’d lost all people-reading skills, Dora looked pained.
“How did you handle that?”
“If she actually says it, well, I’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
Months ago, he’d decided to give up on dating. He’d had it with well-intentioned friends trying to set him up with the perfect woman, one who’d help him get over Lillie. And then, at one of Drew and Dora’s shindigs, he’d met Whitney. She wasn’t perfect, but then, neither was he. Besides, perfection was overrated. A satisfying existence could be just as fulfilling as a happy one, right? And he sure didn’t appreciate the cosmos, or whatever it was, interfering with his almost perfect life.
Jase picked up the glasses, and as he turned to leave the kitchen, he grazed Dora’s cheek with a brotherly kiss.
“Thanks for caring, sis. And just so you know, I love you, too.”
He could still see her tiny grin as he rounded the corner into his mother’s office.
Colette was lounging in her favorite chair—a flowery, overstuffed thing that was wide enough to accommodate a linebacker—a romance novel in her lap. She’d kicked off her shoes and propped both stockinged feet on the matching ottoman.
“You’re early,” she said, glancing up from her book.
“Early? You didn’t even know I was coming over tonight.” He put the iced tea glasses on coasters, then sat on the end of the sofa nearest her chair.
She used her thumb to mark her place in the paperback. “I thought maybe since that little set-to with Whitney caused you to miss dinner at Sabatino’s...”
“Set-to?” He hadn’t seen it that way at all. But wait... “How’d you hear about that? I only left her place half an hour ago.”
She fluffed chin-length white hair. “Dora got a phone call not long after she got here. Guess who it was.”
Yet again, he was reminded of the Drew-Dora-Whitney connection down at the law office.
“She’s such a lovely young woman. So soft-spoken and ladylike. She’ll make someone a wonderful wife, and be a great mother someday. That someone could be you...if you don’t blow it, pining over Lillie. That girl put you through the wringer.”
Once upon a time, his mom had cared for Lillie as if she’d been one of her own, often making excuses for her erratic behavior. Until she caught Lillie slipping a hundred dollars from her wallet. Colette had been furious when she’d told him about it. “Not because I need the money,” she’d said, “but because Lillie has made fools of all of us.” She’d gone on to say that unless the craziness with the drugs stopped, Lillie would break his heart. Deep down, he’d known his mother was right but had held out for a miracle. And a week later...
Jase pressed fingertips together, and like a spider doing pushups on a mirror, flexed and relaxed, flexed and relaxed his hands. He knew his mom had received a check a month or so ago. Lillie hadn’t succeeded in getting money from Colette, and yet she’d paid back every dollar she’d almost stolen. In private moments, Jase admitted the sincere words in the note Lillie had included for Colette had touched him, too.
“So how are you feeling, Mom?”
Blue eyes narrowed to mere slits, and her left brow rose high on her forehead. It was the look she’d branded him and Drew with as boys, when she suspected they’d broken a household item or violated a rule.
“Why do you ask? What did Dora tell you?”
“Only that you looked a little pale today.”
“I love her to pieces, but that girl can be such a fussbudget.”
Jase grinned. “I have to admit, it’s hard to believe that just a month ago, you were rushed to the hospital.”
“Oh, that.” She waved a pink-taloned hand. “Just a little TIA. I’m following doctor’s orders to the letter, so all’s well.”
“Just a little TIA,” he echoed. The symptoms of a transient ischemic attack included weakness, double vision, dizziness, numbness on the left side of her face...all of which she’d exhibited before he’d dialed 911. And all of which could lead to another, more serious stroke.
“It was just a ministroke, honey. Don’t make more of it than there was.”
“Is.”
“Semantics. All you need to know is that I’m fine now. And as long as I keep doing what Doctor Ginnan says, I’ll stay that way.” She leaned forward to pat his hand. “Besides, I have the best business partner this side of the Rockies.” Colette winked. “And don’t give me that look. You love running the company almost as much as you love being on TV.”
He couldn’t deny it. What had started as Jase helping out with bookkeeping and ordering supplies for his mom’s little craft shop had developed into Jase subbing for her on cable TV’s most prominent shopping network. He’d felt silly at first, standing beside the show hosts, describing his mom’s handcrafted wooden and ceramic birdhouses, wall decorations, lawn ornaments and colorful bakeware. Before long, though, her products grew so popular that she’d had to sign on with a manufacturing company to mass-produce her can’t-get-them-elsewhere items. Even before the money started rolling in, Jase looked forward to monthly flights to Florida to do live shows during which audience members, mostly women, called in to ooh and aah over Colette’s Crafts...and flirt with him.
“You’ve been a huge help to me, honey. If not for you, I’d still be operating out of this office-slash-parlor-slash-library-slash-craft room.” She hesitated. “You know, if you need a break, we’re doing well enough to afford to hire an actor to take your place on the show.”
“Why would we do that?”
“So you can get back to your music, part-time, of course, because I need you as CEO. And maybe even tell Whitney that you love her, too, settle down and start a family.” She sniffed. “At the rate you and Drew are going, I’ll be a decrepit old woman before I become a grandmother.”
“Wait. Too?”
“Don’t look so surprised. We’ve sort of become friends. And friends confide in one another.”
Things like I love your son?
“For one thing, the subject of love has never come up.” He wished he hadn’t just told Dora that it might. “For another, I don’t much appreciate finding out that my mother and the woman I’m dating are talking about stuff like that behind my back.” He cringed. “It’s creepy.”
“She’s more than just the woman you’re dating.”
He could only stare in disbelief.
“She’s your girlfriend.”
“Mom...”
“Well? Do you?”
“Do I what?” As if you didn’t know...
“Good grief, Jase, don’t be so obtuse. Do you love Whitney, or not?”
Jase could admit that he enjoyed spending time with her. And that it felt pretty good, seeing a twinge of envy on other guys’ faces when he entered a room with the gorgeous blonde on his arm. B
ut love?
“Mom, I—”
“Are you hesitating because you’re still in love with Lillie?”
“No way.” He tried to sound like he meant it. “You’re right. She messed up my head, bad. I have no desire to go through that again.”
“Not even now that she’s home again, supposedly cured of her addiction?”
Whitney couldn’t have told her about that, because to his knowledge, Whitney knew almost nothing about Lillie’s drug history. Unless...
“Please tell me you didn’t discuss Lillie’s past with Whitney.”
“What difference would it make if I did...if you’re over Lillie?”
“Whitney told you we ran into her and Liam today, didn’t she.”
“Yes. So?”
“So I don’t appreciate having my personal business broadcast all over town.”
She and Dora had both accused him of having trust issues. Was it any wonder!
Colette clucked her tongue. “First of all, I realize I’ve gained a few pounds, recovering from the TIA, but I’m certainly not big enough to be referred to as a whole town. And second, you were with Whitney when you ran into Lillie. I’d say that makes it her business, too. And if she wants to share a thing like that with me...” She shrugged. “Jase. Honey. I just want you to be happy.”
Almost word for word what Dora had said. Seemed a pretty feeble way to excuse their intrusion into his personal business.
“I pray every night that Whitney is the woman who’ll make your heart skip a beat, who’ll take your breath away. That she’ll make you smile just by walking into a room. Your father made me feel like that, right up until the end.”
And that, Jase believed, was part of the problem. As Lillie disappeared down the rabbit hole, over and over, he’d lost faith in her. Lost his confidence in his ability to tell the truth from a lie. How was he supposed to connect with a woman—or trust one for that matter—when he couldn’t trust his own judgment?
He was in too deep to change the subject now, so he said, “I don’t mind admitting, I’m a little envious of what you and dad had.”
“There’s something to be said for old-shoe comfort, for that spark that makes you...well, you know.” She giggled. “I tell you, that father of yours had the power to make me go weak in the knees with nothing more than a look. And when he kissed me?” She rested a hand over her heart, then finished with a mischievous wink. She threw back her head and laughed. Then, as suddenly as it began, her laughter subsided. “I have a question for you, son.”
“Uh-oh,” Jase said. “I’m almost afraid to hear it.”
She went on as though he hadn’t spoken. “When you kiss Whitney, does your heart skip a beat? Does the breath catch in your throat? Do your knees go weak?”
“That was three questions.”
“Despite my advancing age and allegedly frail condition, I’m not that easily distracted.”
Jase could answer all of her questions with a single word: no.
Because he’d felt that way only with Lillie.
He’d loved her, maybe too much, and it galled him that she’d chosen drugs over him.
Seeing her today proved two things. First, despite his denials, he still felt something for her. And second, self-preservation told him that he needed to smother it, fast.
Love without trust was a recipe for agony.
And he didn’t believe he had the mettle to lose her again.
CHAPTER THREE
“THERE SHE GOES AGAIN,” Molly said, “with her ‘back in the old days’ reference.”
Since returning home, that was how Lillie referred to her life before the accident. The phrase inspired relentless teasing from her siblings—a whole lot easier to bear than the standoffish behavior they’d displayed prior to the repayment of every dollar borrowed and stolen—and her heartfelt apologies.
In response to her sister’s latest dig, Lillie said, “At least I didn’t commit marital alliteration. Matt and Molly, I mean really.”
“Marital alliteration?” Her brother reared back with mock surprise. “She dragged the dictionary out for that one, and much as I hate to admit it, she’s right!”
Arms crossed, Molly huffed. “You’re a fine one to talk, Sam, marrying a girl with the same name.”
Liam’s laughter filled the sunny yard as his wife said, “All right you guys, if you want to eat later, get back to work!”
The construction crew had completed the exterior work and moved inside to put the finishing touches on the kitchen addition. That left the outside clear for Lillie’s family to work on. Plants that had grown in beds around the old porch now stood in lopsided plastic pots along the back fence.
“Lillie, would you mind going around front to tend the rose garden? I know the crew tried to be careful, but they made a huge mess out there. You have the magic touch, maybe you can save them.”
Lillie grabbed a shovel, a trowel and her garden gloves. “Happy to, Mom.” And she meant it. Working out front would allow her to contribute to the cleanup project while ignoring the occasional sidelong glance or raised eyebrow, proof the family wasn’t entirely convinced of her trustworthiness.
After fertilizing and replanting several rose shrubs, Lillie decided to form a border around the bed by moving dozens of marigolds and zinnias from the side yard. Standing back, she gave her work an admiring nod. “Not bad if I do say so myself,” she said.
“Self-confidence looks good on you.”
Startled, she spun quickly around, nearly losing her balance. If Jase hadn’t grabbed both biceps, Lillie would have landed on the spade’s sharp blade. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d stood so close.
Blue eyes boring into hers, he said, “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
He turned her loose and took a step back, and she saw she’d left muddy handprints on his white shirt.
She removed her right glove and made a half-baked attempt to brush away the dirt. Sadly, it only made the mess worse. “Omigarsh. Look what I’ve done. I’m so sorry. And this looks like a freshly pressed shirt, too.” And his jeans were dark, making him appear taller and slimmer than she remembered.
“It’s okay. Couple squirts with some stain remover and it’ll be good as new.”
He pointed at the flowers. “Nice job. You always did have an artistic eye. And a gift for stuff like this.”
“Thanks.” Just as she had weeks ago outside the Flower Basket, Lillie struggled for the right words. But what could she say? She’d promised to call him and hadn’t. Would he see that as proof she was still untrustworthy?
“Guess your dad doesn’t have my number after all.”
So, his mindreading talents hadn’t faltered while she’d been in New York.
“He probably does, but to tell the truth, I never asked for it. I’ve been working a lot of extra hours, waiting tables and clerking at the hotel up the street. Unfortunately, I’m still a couple hundred dollars short of what I owe you.”
His Orioles cap shaded the upper half of his handsome face, but not enough to hide his furrowed brow.
“You don’t owe me anything, Lill. Really.”
“Are you kidding? Of course I do. If you’d like, I can write you a check right now, and pay the rest just as soon as I’ve earned it.”
Feet planted shoulder-width apart and arms crossed over his broad chest, he studied her. Because he hadn’t answered any of his questions? Or because of what she still owed him?
“Two jobs. In addition to helping out around here. When do you sleep?”
In fits and starts, she thought. A guilty conscience will do that to a gal.
She considered joking her way through a response, when he asked, “You have wheels?”
“I borrow Mom’s car when I need to drive someplace.”
“That’s gotta be tough on somebody like
you.”
Somebody like her? This whole conversation felt forced. Stilted. Uncomfortable. Good as it was to see him again, she wished he’d just leave.
“What I mean is, you used to be so independent.”
Used to be, as in, before you became an out-of-control, thieving drug addict.
“So you’re walking to and from your jobs?”
“Unless it’s pouring rain. I’d walk then, too, if Mom didn’t insist that I drive.”
“Uh-huh.”
She wished he’d yell at her. Curse at her. Give her a stern talking-to. Anything was preferable to this oh-so-calm stoic demeanor that told her he didn’t care enough to let anything she did rile him. Right now, Lillie wished she’d spent a lot more time talking with her therapist about her feelings for Jase. Seeing him at the flower shop had rocked her, but not nearly as much as standing mere feet from him.
“So, which restaurant?”
“The Sip & Bite.”
“And I’m guessing since you’re hoofing it, you’re clerking at the inn at Henderson’s Wharf?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Why did he care? He didn’t love her anymore. The way you still—
“Why not wait tables in their restaurant?”
“There weren’t any openings when I applied. Besides, I can pretty much choose my schedule at the Sip & Bite. And the tips are great.”
Jase’s brows drew together. “Do you ever miss being onstage, singing?”
“I’ll say. It’s one of the reasons I started volunteering at Hopkins’ Children’s Oncology. Some days I sing to the kids, other days I paint faces.”
He thumbed his cap back, causing some of his shining black hair to fall forward, hiding one eyebrow. Skeptical was as close as she could come to describing his expression. Had she hurt him so badly that he couldn’t believe it possible for her to spend time with sick children? That shamed her. Hurt her, too. But, she had no right to feel anything but sorry for all she’d put him through.