That Thing Called Love

by Susan Andersen

  It would have warmed the cockles of her heart if they weren’t sitting in a minimum security facility where the rules were much more lax than, oh, say, the maximum security building, where the gesture would earn him a swift reprimand from one of the guards.

  Well, that and the knowledge that even there it likely would have been a gesture geared to soften her up.

  “My parole hearing is coming up,” he said.

  “Dad!” She gave him her first genuine smile. “That’s wonderful!” Okay, not cool that you’re mostly thrilled you may never have to visit a state penitentiary again.

  “I’ve been an exemplary prisoner, so I should be released, no problem. But I’ll need you to attend the hearing to tell them I have a job waiting at your little inn.”

  “Oh.” She sagged back in her plastic chair, awash in yet more conflicting emotions. The dutiful daughter wanted to give him anything he wanted.

  But her instincts were screaming, screaming, screaming. And she’d learned the hard way that she ignored them at her own peril. She slowly straightened. Blew out a quiet breath. And said, “No.”

  “Excuse me?” His already flawless posture somehow managed to snap even more militarily erect. And if his voice were a visible entity, it would have been formed of ice crystals. “What do you mean, no?”

  Did I say no, Daddy? I didn’t mean it!

  The thing was, though: she did. Gathering her composure, she met his gaze with a level one of her own. “I can’t in all good conscience do that.”

  “Of course you can. I’m going to need a job.”

  “And you would be happy being, say, part of the grounds crew at The Brothers?”

  The look he gave her was Lawrence Salazar at his arrogant best. “Don’t be ridiculous. The first rule of business is to place employees where they can be most effective. In my case, that would be in accounting. Or sales. I’m brilliant at both.”

  “And yet the last time you did both, people lost their life savings.”

  His voice chilled even further. “I’m being released because I’ve paid my debt to society for that, Jennifer.”

  “And that’s wonderful, Dad, it really is. But are you the least bit sorry about all the people whose lives you destroyed?” She studied him closely.

  And knew damn well that he was lying through his pearly white teeth when he replied smoothly, “Of course. I’m profoundly ashamed of all the harm I have caused.”

  “Well, good for you,” she said. “But as I said, I can’t in all conscience hire you at The Brothers.”

  He slapped a hand down on the tabletop so hard the sullen teen visiting at the next table jumped. “I’m your father!”

  “Oh, trust me, I’m well aware of that. That’s all anyone remembered—that I was your daughter—when you were jailed as a crook and left me to fend for myself.” She kept her voice low, but years of repressed rage abruptly crowded her throat. “Your sixteen-year-old daughter! You and Mom were both too self-absorbed to even notice I was the only one doing anything to keep the wolf from the door. And let me tell you, having your reputation hanging over my head like my own personal rain cloud didn’t help!”

  Whoa. She dragged in a deep breath. She’d thought she was long past the pain—and shame—of those days of sideways glances, distrustful stares and kids unafraid to use her father’s reputation to beat her over the head. Apparently not.

  “I was hardly in a position to do anything for you from prison, Jennifer.”

  “Maybe not, but you were in a position to use your talents to make an honest living so you didn’t end up in prison in the first place.

  “But you know what?” She waved an impatient hand. “Screw that, it’s water under the bridge.” She leaned forward with a little arrogance of her own. “Because I did fend for myself and for my mother as well, since she couldn’t seem to get off her butt to do a little fending of her own. But I’ll tell you something, Daddy, it wasn’t easy and it certainly wasn’t thanks to either of you that I didn’t sink like a rock beneath the weight of my responsibilities. The Pierces taught me how real families function, and gave me the skills to make a decent living. Damned if I intend to allow you to come waltzing into the inn they built and do God-knows-what to it while you work your own agenda. And double damned if you’ll ruin the excellent rep I spent years of hard work building.

  “I love you, Dad, and I always will.” She shoved to her feet. “And I wish you luck. If you’d like to come visit me when you get out, I’d be happy to comp you a room for a couple days anytime you care to visit. But other than that, you’re on your own.”

  He shook his head. “You’ve become so hard. What on earth happened to my little princess?”

  “She had to scrub toilets and pick up other people’s messes. She had to overcome a reputation as a felon’s daughter.”

  “Which you have. So what’s the big deal about helping your dear old dad out?”

  “Was I not clear? Did you miss the part where I said I have no intention of jeopardizing what I’ve built?” She signaled the guard, then turned back to her father as the uniformed man wove through the tables.

  “Stop by if you’d like to have a more equitable relationship with me. I know I’d enjoy that. But find a way to take care of yourself—preferably a legal way. Because I’m done providing for people who should have made it their job to care for me.”

  Good girl, she kept telling herself as she went through the sign-out process and made her way to her car. Good girl. She’d been strong, and she was right, dammit. It was too late, of course, to have a mother who’d take up the heavy lifting when things fell apart. And God knew it was past time to stop hoping her father might show interest in anyone but himself. So she’d finally done what she should have years ago: demonstrated once and for all that she no longer expected it. Go, me.

  Reaching her car, she unlocked it, climbed in and tossed her purse on the passenger seat. She buckled her seat belt.

  Then looked at her shaking hands and burst into tears.

  * * *

  TRAFFIC WAS A NIGHTMARE—silly her to have expected any different when everything else had gone so goddamn swell today. She was exhausted and running on empty by the time she reached Razor Bay and oh, so grateful moments later when she finally pulled into the small parking area behind her bungalow. Collecting her purse, she climbed out of the car and let herself into the mudroom. All she desired at this point was a tall, cold glass of water, a couple aspirin and maybe an hour in the prone position in a dark room.

  As she let herself into the kitchen, she heard Austin’s shoot-the-hell-out-of-everyone “Halo” Xbox game playing in the living room.

  Heard Austin himself crow, “You’re going down!”

  Fool that she was, she assumed he was talking to Bailey and headed for the living room doorway to greet them.

  But it was Jake’s voice that rumbled, “In your dreams, oh vanquishable one. This is no kiddie tournament. You’re playing with the master now.”

  Jenny stopped dead. Well, crap. Isn’t this just fucking perfect. Jake was the last person she wanted to see. But she’d asked him to spend some time with Austin while she was gone, so what was she supposed to say—get the hell out of my house, I’m in no mood to deal with you?

  Suddenly her purse seemed to weigh a hundred pounds and, as if it had multiplied tenfold, she’d swear she could feel the earth’s gravitational pull. Sliding the purse strap off her shoulder, she trudged into the living room.

  “Hey,” she said, trying to sound upbeat but fearing she fell woefully shy of the mark. “I’m home.”

  “Hey,” Austin replied without taking his gaze off the television screen. He did something that made guns blaze and a character die and he laughed in triumph. “Yes! You’re toast, ancient one! Who’s the master now, huh?”

  But Jake wasn’t pay
ing attention. He was staring at her, his dark brows furrowed. “You don’t look very rested for someone who just spent her day shopping in the city or at a spa, or whatever. In fact, you look like crap.”

  Austin turned to stare at him, openmouthed. “Seriously, dude? That’s cold. She’s been at the state pen all day.”

  Head whipping around, Jake gaped at the teen. “What?”

  “She spent the day in Monroe, man.” Austin’s tone suggested he was speaking to the mentally impaired. “Seeing her dad. Jeez.” He gave Jake a hard look, glanced at his watch, then up at her. “Look, I was supposed to meet the guys—a few of us are having a mini pinball tournament at Bella T’s. But if you’d rather I stay—”

  “No.” She shook her head. She’d kill for some alone time.

  “Are you sure? I can hang around.”

  “No. Go. Knock ’em dead.”

  “Okay, if you’re sure. My homework’s done.” He jerked his chin toward Jake. “The grinch here made me do it before we could play ‘Halo.’”

  He took a few steps toward the kitchen. “I’ll be home by nine, ’kay?” And between one second and the next, he’d disappeared into the kitchen and from there to the mudroom. The exterior door slammed a moment later.

  She turned wearily to Jake. “Thanks for staying with him. And for the homework thing.” That was more than she’d expected, and she was so grateful she didn’t need to ride herd tonight.

  He crossed over to her. “Why didn’t you tell me where you were going?”

  When she’d asked for his help, she’d merely told him she had a long day planned off the peninsula. She just looked at him now.

  “Of course, why would you?” he muttered. “But you look like you’ve been through the wringer. You hungry? I could make you something to eat.”

  The idea of food made her stomach pitch. “I’m really not.”

  “How about a nice relaxing glass of wine?”

  The suggestion piqued the first interest she’d felt in putting anything in her mouth since leaving Tasha’s apartment. “That I could go for.”

  “Uh, you have any?”

  The sheepish question elicited a faint smile. “In the cupboard over the broom closet.”

  He went into the kitchen, and she kicked off her shoes and collapsed on the sofa. Picking up the remote from the coffee table, she powered off the television Austin had left on, sighing as the blue screen disappeared.

  Jake was back in a moment with one of the extralarge wineglasses she hardly ever used generously filled to the rim with chardonnay. He extended it to her.

  She took a grateful gulp and felt warmth spread a trail from her throat to her stomach. She took another, even bigger swallow, then looked at Jake over the wineglass rim. “Thank you.”

  “How long has it been since you’ve eaten? You sure you don’t want something?”

  She ignored the first part of the question in favor of quaffing more wine. Her blood developed a pleasant buzz beneath her skin, and the tension she’d been packing all day began to dissipate from her muscles. “Maybe in a bit.”

  He shrugged and took a seat on the opposite end of the couch. “Your day was pretty bad, I take it.”

  A harsh laugh escaped her. “You could say that.” She lifted the glass. A small voice in her head suggested maybe she should slow down, but she ignored it. After all, she was in her own home, on her own couch, and it wasn’t as if the world would rock to a halt if, for one hour of one day, she was the tiniest bit reckless.

  “Is it always like this?” When she merely looked at him, he demanded, “Are you always this upset when you get home?”

  “It’s never really fun,” she admitted. “But today I had a come-to-Jesus talk with my father.”

  “So that’s probably a step in the right direction, right?”

  She shrugged. “It was long overdue, anyhow.” She looked at him and noticed he was growing a little fuzzy around the edges. Oops. Maybe being reckless wasn’t her best idea.

  Even so, that didn’t stop her from draining the glass. Because, what the hey. It had been a day filled with less than brilliant ideas.

  All the same, she could hardly believe it when she heard herself admit, “There was a second there that I was tempted to cave in to my dad’s demands to give him a job at the inn. But this place is Austin’s birthright, I have a responsibility to him—and my dad is an unrepentant thief. So I did the right thing.”

  “Damn straight,” Jake said with none of her own misgivings and second-guessing. “I don’t believe I want my son around him.”

  “Me, either.” She squinted at him. “So why the hell don’t I feel better?”

  “Oh, baby, you’re asking the wrong man. My father was what you might call serially monogamous. He left Max and his mother for mine. I mean, he poured all of his attention into us and cut them off as if they didn’t exist. Then he left me and my mom for some other woman who had a kid that may or may not have been his. I’m kind of fuzzy on the paternity details, and my mother died before I was interested enough to ask her about it.” His shoulder hitched and he met her gaze squarely. “You already know that I’m no shining beacon of fatherhood.”

  “That’s true,” she agreed amiably. But, Lord, he was attractive. She set her empty glass on the coffee table. Well, she attempted to. It took her two tries.

  “Shit.” He looked at her more closely. “You’re hammered.”

  “I am,” she agreed and, smiling happily, scooted down to his end of the couch. She climbed onto her knees facing his right side. “I’m feeling way better than I did when I got home.” She angled a friendly arm across his chest, curling her fingers over his shoulder. He was so warm and hard-bodied. “Let’s get it on.”

  “What? No!” He lunged to the edge of the couch, knocking her loose.

  She fell into the space he opened up and barely avoided a face-plant by thrusting out a hand to catch herself. Shoving back to sit on her heels, she pushed her hair out of her eyes with her forearm. “Why not?” she demanded reasonably. “You know you want to.”

  “Yeah, I do. But low as your opinion is of me, I draw the line at taking advantage of drunk women.”

  She blew a pithy raspberry. “Spoilsport.”

  He laughed and climbed to his feet.

  She reached out to stroke one hard thigh and gave him a loose smile when he took a hasty step back. “Sure you don’t wanna change your mind?”

  “Hell, no, I’m not sure. That’s why I’m getting out of here.” He looked down at her and a crooked smile slashed a shallow groove in his cheek. “Man, you’re going to hate yourself in the morning.”

  She shrugged. “‘Que Sera, Sera.’”

  “Be interesting to see if you’re singing that tune in a few hours. And, hey.” Reaching out, he ran a rough hand over her hair. “If your offer still stands once you’ve sobered up, you know where to find me.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “JUST SHOOT ME NOW.” Carefully avoiding looking at herself in the bathroom mirror, Jenny picked up the aspirin bottle, shook a couple tablets into her palm and washed them down with a glass of water.

  Not that her headache was all that unbearable—its cause more from tension than a hangover. After all, wasn’t she flipping Pollyanna? She’d only had that one measly glass of wine. Sure, it had been a big sucker and she’d downed the thing on an empty stomach. But if she’d known it was going to turn her into that woman—the one who occasionally hung out at the Anchor and made drunken passes at all the guys—she’d have gone ahead and knocked back a couple more. Maybe then at least last night would be a nice comfortable blur in her head.

  Blurry would be a definite improvement.

  But she wasn’t getting off that easy. Because God forbid her memory should extend her the courtesy of failing for just one stin
king night.

  No, she remembered every embarrassing moment.

  Not that all of it had been awful. After all, she recalled exactly how hard and warm Jake had felt. How yummy he’d smelled.

  But sweet baby Jesus—she could have gone forever without remembering the horrified look on his face when she’d hit him with that truly suave proposition. And she didn’t even want to think about the way she’d draped herself all over him.

  She didn’t get it. That so wasn’t her. She was no Mother Teresa, but she didn’t sleep around casually, either, let alone make sloppy passes at men.

  But there was something about Jake that...drew her. Oh, sure, there were his looks and that body. But if it were just about the physical, she wouldn’t feel so unnerved. She could dismiss the desire to get closer to him horizontally as a mere matter of chemistry and attraction; biology, pure and simple.

  But the layers he’d managed to burrow beneath—that was something else. Something more.

  At first she’d attributed the emotional tug she felt around him—a tug that, to her unease, was growing—to his budding relationship with Austin. The more things he did right, the more effort he put into his son, well, it just made her heart expand, that was all.

  Not in a that-thing-called-love way, though! No sir, no how. Because where would that get her? Jake was leaving and taking Austin with him. It would be exceedingly stupid to allow herself to feel anything deeper than simple lust.

  She had firsthand experience with loving people and having them choose other things. Her dad had chosen wealth and power over her; her mother image and status. Damned if she’d go down that road again.

  Just thinking about it had her head pounding harder than before. Leaning into the sink, she pressed her forehead against the mirror’s cool glass. “Please,” she whispered. “If no one’s gonna shoot me, then a lightning bolt would do the trick. Something. Anything. I’m begging you.”