by Nadia Lee
“Yeah, but I wanted to.” Iain clenched his hands. “I wanted to make him sorry so bad. I shouldn’t have brought him down like that.”
Mark shrugged. “Hey, he asked for it. If he’d said that kind of stuff about Hilary, I might have knocked a few of his teeth out.”
Iain ran a palm over his mouth. “Sometimes I wish I’d driven right past that street in D.C. Then this wouldn’t hurt so much.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I heard a woman scream. It turned out to be Jane.” Their food came out, and Iain stared at the smoked salmon laid out perfectly over a bed of lettuce and other fresh veggies. “On the other hand, the idea of never having met her… It makes me feel like puking.”
Mark tapped his bread on the edge of his plate. “You love her?”
Iain flinched. He’d been avoiding that question. It was easier than forcing himself to examine his motives and emotions too closely.
“Can you push her out of your mind with, you know, meditation or something?”
“No.” Not at all. He’d tried, but every time he thought he’d emptied his mind, he swore he could hear Jane’s laughter or feel her soft body wrapped around him. So much for his vaunted mastery over himself. He pushed the untouched plate away. “It’s over.”
“Why should it be over? If you love her, tell her.”
“It won’t work. She’s a special girl, and she deserves something special.” He pulled out the locket and looked at the picture inside. She looked so adorable, gazing up at him with a big wide grin. Mischief sparkled in her eyes, and he couldn’t believe he’d ruined everything by opening his stupid mouth in anger.
“What’s more special than the truth?” Mark asked. “None of the crazy stuff I did to show Hilary I love her would’ve worked if she hadn’t believed in me at the end. Sometimes it’s the simplest thing that moves a woman’s heart. You remember the time Gavin was going through that crisis with his wife? They were pretty close to divorce.”
“Yeah.”
“All because he wasn’t able to bring himself to say, ‘I love you’. A private jet and a new art studio couldn’t convince her to stay, but those three little words did.”
Iain finished the rest of his beer. This painful shame that he felt deep in his belly for having hurt Jane…the crushing sense of loneliness every time he thought about her… Was this love? Was it love that made him clench his fist around the locket and wish, with soul-killing desperation, to be able to trade everything he owned for more time with her? “Love sucks.”
Mark chuckled. “For now. But when you make things right, you’ll think that love is the greatest thing in the world.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
In the next few weeks, Jane moved out of André’s place and found a shared apartment. She just knew the coming year was going to be her year. She’d make her mark for sure.
At André’s advice, she also took a waitress job. It was easier than kitchen work—at least her hands were spared the abuse—and it paid better than the dishwasher position.
The current phase of her life would have been almost perfect if she could somehow erase her memories of Iain. As it was, her chest ached every time she thought of him. She hoped it would cease with time and distance. Iain had stopped trying to see her after that unpleasant meeting outside Éternité. It really was for the best, even if her foolish heart didn’t want to accept it.
Whenever she had free time on her hands, she read books on cooking technique and studied with André. Despite her initial fears about his temperament, he was a patient teacher.
She showed him her latest lamb chops, and he said, “Good presentation.” He cut a small piece off and chewed. “Soft, juicy. Good spices. Very good, Jane.”
She beamed, then frowned when her phone played the cacophonous tune from Psycho again.
“What is that?” André said.
“Nothing.” She’d assigned the melody to Gio, and she wasn’t going to give him any more time out of her life.
“I ’ave something to tell you.”
“Okay.” She started to wash the pots that she’d used to make the lamb chops.
“There’s a man looking to ’ire a private chef. I ’ave put in some good words for you.”
“Really?” She put some extra oomph to the scrubbing. Maybe she should’ve deglazed the pan more thoroughly. “I don’t know… Do you think I’m ready?”
“Remember what I said? Cooking is like a love affair?”
She nodded.
“Good. Now think. ’E is a single man. And a single man eats simply. Meat. Potatoes. Bread. Sweets. You don’t ’ave to make bread, of course. I told him you don’t bake.”
“I can make a pretty mean pie.”
“I said simple. A pie is fancy. But, perhaps.” André shrugged. “The pay is not extravagant, but we all ’ave to start somewhere.” Grunting, he pulled out a piece of butcher’s paper with an address scrawled on it. “This is the place. ’E said if you are interested, you should be there tomorrow at ten thirty to show ’im what you can do.” Clearing his throat, he gave her a strange look. “Make me proud.”
Jane smiled. “Thank you so much. I will.”
As she rode the bus back home, she felt like a million bucks. Was this her lucky break? What was a personal chef interview like? Would she have to cook something? She knew a lot of good recipes now, and she’d tried most of them. She’d be ready for whatever this potential employer threw at her.
The Psycho tune rang again, and she pulled her phone out. Maybe she should just get a new number. This was getting irritating. Gio sent her another ridiculous rant, but this time he’d ended it with, “I know where you live.”
She scowled…then blinked as she realized she’d stopped stressing about him a while ago.
Huh. When had that happened?
When she’d fallen for Iain.
She glanced at Gio’s pathetic message gain. I know where you live. What a cliché. Even if he did, what was he going to do, fly all the way out to L.A? It wasn’t like D.C., where he had a network of unsavory friends. He should’ve realized she wouldn’t leave herself vulnerable again.
Hey, maybe you could ask Iain to take care of him.
She mentally smacked herself for that ridiculous idea. She and Iain were through, and he wouldn’t lift a finger even if she were drowning. She was bad for his mental zen.
Just like Gio was for hers.
She pushed Gio out of her mind. She had better things to think about.
* * *
The address led Jane north of Los Angeles and into Malibu. She’d had to take a taxi for the final leg of her journey. As she parted with her hard-earned money, she hoped the interview was worth it.
Think positive, girl. You can do this.
A sensible Honda Accord sat in front of the two-story beach house Jane was supposed to be at. She couldn’t help but blink at the rather modest car. She thought only really rich people could afford places in Malibu.
Half the lower and upper levels of the house were made of glass for the best view of the ocean. Otherwise it was white-washed stone. The door was ajar, and Jane pushed it gently and called out, “Hello?” The interior was open and bright with minimalist decoration, reminding Jane of Iain’s penthouse. Maybe bright and minimalist was popular among rich bachelors on the west coast.
A blonde in a fitted gray suit came out, her heels clacking on the tiled floor. She had the smoothest skin Jane had ever seen, and wore carefully applied makeup that brought out her blue eyes and pouty lips. “Hello,” the blonde said.
“Oh. I thought…” Jane frowned. “I heard that this was the place I needed to be for a private chef position?”
“That’s right. You must be Jane.”
“Yes.” Jane nodded in relief. “Sorry if I sounded confused. I was told I’d be cooking for a man.”
“Correct. We’d like to see how you do first, of course. A meal for two would be ideal…with an appetizer and a cheese platter perhaps?”
“That sounds fantastic,” Jane said quickly. The blonde was probably her potential employer’s girlfriend or something.
“Excellent. Please come in.” The blonde turned and led the way to a big open kitchen. “You can use anything you like in here. Let me know if there’s any problem. He’d like lunch at noon, so plan accordingly. And you’ll be compensated for your time and transportation, of course. Just let me have your receipts.”
“Oh.” Jane bit her lower lip. “I didn’t get any receipts. I took the bus and a taxi.”
The woman didn’t bat an eyelash. “I’m sure we can figure it out.”
Well, Jane thought. She’s a cool drink of water. “By the way, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Ingrid.” She then went into a room across the hall, leaving the door open and taking a seat behind a laptop.
The kitchen was almost as well set up as the one in Éternité. She looked at the fridge. It had all types of meat and a few token veggies. Some fruit in the bottom compartment. André had been right about single men and their eating habits.
The spice and herb racks were full of all sorts of interesting things, and the window-sill had several pots of fresh herbs, including mint. Lamb chops. She’d made them the day before, so the recipe was still fresh in her mind. And she couldn’t imagine a man who didn’t like lamb chops.
Perfect.
Humming, she worked on lunch. It was relaxing to get into the rhythm of things, working in a big kitchen by herself. After spying a carton of vanilla ice cream in the freezer, she prepped an apple pie. It was a simple dessert, but every single man in Paris liked a slice of piping hot apple pie paired with ice cream. Play the odds.
Precisely at noon, Ingrid came out of her office with the laptop in her bag. “May I?”
“Sure.” Jane cut a piece of lamb and served it to her.
Ingrid chewed it and said, “Excellent. You did very well. I’ll see you around.”
“You aren’t staying for lunch?”
“No. But my boss will be here soon to eat it.” Ingrid left.
Oh. Jane linked her fingers together and stared at the closed door. The security light turned red. Then she heard a car leaving. So she’d been right about the Honda.
She didn’t have to wait long before another car pulled in. Then the door opened and shut, and the red light in the entrance turned green…
…and in came Iain.
He looked amazingly good in a fitted dress shirt and slacks. His hair had recently been cut, and he moved with his usual lethal grace.
Blood rushed through her until she couldn’t hear anything except the roar in her head. Her face heated, and she couldn’t breathe. How could Iain pull this on her, and how could André have gone along with it? Her mentor knew their relationship had gone sour.
She pushed herself away from the counter angrily, ready to leave, then her gaze fell on the shiny object around his neck.
The locket.
She couldn’t believe he’d kept it. She’d been so sure he’d tossed everything out as soon as he’d returned home. Then she looked at his face, and noticed the changes. The lines and angles she’d come to love were sharper; dark half moons sat under his eyes, and there was something haggard and grim in his gaze. And he was thinner.
“You owe me at least two more hours of your time,” Iain said, his voice gravelly.
She looked at him for a very long moment, then sighed and placed a basket of warm bread on the table. “Nothing’s going to change,” she said, as she served the cold appetizer for two.
“Please sit. If nothing’s going to change, maybe we can just eat like civilized people.”
“Fine.”
They sat at the round glass-top table. She picked at the bread, while Iain ate.
“You’re a great cook,” he said.
She said nothing.
After a prolonged moment of silence, he said, “You told me I kept everyone as far away as possible to avoid feeling anything. And you know what? You’re right. I’ve been doing that. Too intense a feeling affects my control…or so I thought. I never want to lose control again the way I did when I was twenty.”
“Vanessa told me you almost killed two people,” Jane said, despite her resolve not to talk.
He nodded. “Did she tell you why?”
“No.”
“You met my parents. You know what people call them?”
That’s a sudden change of topic. “The Forever Couple? Something like that.”
“The Eternal Couple.” He laughed softly. It was an ugly sound. “Yeah. They’ve been married for a long time. They can’t stay faithful to each other, but they won’t divorce.”
Jane gasped. She’d never have guessed Iain’s parents were having affairs behind each other’s backs…or that Iain knew about it.
“Everyone knows my dad’s unfaithful. Not sure if people know about Mom. She’s pretty careful about stuff like that.” Iain put his fork down. “When I was younger, I’d always assumed that Mom started cheating on Dad, and then he started seeing other women in retaliation. I was furious with her, so I started doing MMA to get back at her.”
“MMA?” Jane squinted. “Kind of an odd choice.”
“She hated the violence of it. She couldn’t stand me being in a cage like an animal, or that I was fighting like an animal.”
“Well of course. She’s your mother.”
“And I’m her son. But I liked that she hated it.”
“Iain…”
“Then one day I caught her with one of her men in the house. I don’t think she knows. It’s one thing to know something like that about your mother, something else to actually, you know…see it happening.”
“I can only imagine. What did you do?”
Iain shrugged. “Too stunned to do much of anything. I just backed away and ran.”
“How old were you?”
“Twenty. I went to a bar with my fake ID and got drunk. Some punks tried to pick a fight with me, but I ignored them…until they started with some ‘yo mama’ jokes. One of them said, ‘Yo mama’s such a slut, she’s been on more wieners than ketchup,’ and…I lost it.”
Jane put her hand over her mouth.
“When I got arrested, I called Dad. And he called the family attorneys to bail me out. Dad asked me why I got into such a mess, and I told him because he wouldn’t stop being spiteful and just divorce Mom. He knew she was cheating on him, so why not get rid of her instead of cheating back? It was juvenile. Then he said, ‘Your mother didn’t start that. I did. She knew my reputation, but she married me anyway. She shouldn’t be upset about that stuff now.’” Iain’s gaze was fixed somewhere beyond Jane. He seemed lost and alone there. “Then he added that if I’d killed those ‘lowlifes’, no one would’ve been able to help me. When I was young, my grandmother asked me to toughen up, but she didn’t mean learn martial arts. She meant to build a wall around myself so nothing could touch me, so I could keep everything in proper perspective. And if I had done that, I would’ve never been in jail like that.”
“So what happened?”
“The family lawyers did what they do best. They got me off. But I quit MMA and started focusing on aikido for the calm it brings me.”
So that explained why he did his routines at home, rather than going to a dojo to practice with other people. It was easier to focus that way, and he was probably scared he would lose control again. No wonder he’d freaked out when he’d attacked his brother. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You were right. I was alive, but not living.”
“I shouldn’t have said that. You were coping the best way you could.”
“I was coping, but not in a very good way. Keeping everyone at arms’ length is a temporary solution. Isolation means not having to care, and not caring isn’t control.”
“You love your family.”
“Yeah…but there has to be more. I can’t panic all the time at the idea of caring for someone. I shouldn’t let that control m
e to the point that I lash out at the woman I love.”
Jane slowly shook her head. If he’d said those words before their horrific Christmas Eve, she would’ve been ecstatic. But now she wasn’t sure how much of it was true and how much was guilt. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
He took her hand. “Jane, I love you. And I’m not saying this on impulse. I’ve had a few weeks to think things through.”
“Iain.” She blinked away her tears. “I want to believe it, but I don’t know if I can. I keep hoping for things, and eventually it gets to the point of desperation, and then I make bad decisions. I don’t want to be like that anymore.”
“You don’t believe me.”
“I’m not sure you’ll always feel the way you do now. What if one day you realize it’s too hard to be in control while you feel something for me? And then shut me out? I don’t know if I’ll be able to stand it…and I can’t live the rest of my life wondering.”
Iain regarded her, then said, “Come with me. I want to show you something.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
When Jane finally got into his Maserati, Iain sighed with relief. He hadn’t meant to say quite so much about his past, but it was okay. She should know every wart and flaw about him so she wouldn’t one day wake up and realize he wasn’t the man she thought she knew and loved.
He drove them to his place. Brooke wasn’t finished yet, but it’d have to do.
They pulled into the parking lot and went up to the penthouse. Jane didn’t say anything. She kept her spine unnaturally stiff and stared straight ahead.
When they walked inside, she gasped. “You’ve changed everything.”
“Pretty much.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. Brooke had been stunned at his request, but she’d delivered a very welcoming and homey place.
She’d changed the color scheme to something warm but fresh with lots of earth tones, along with light sage and orange accents. The flooring was still hardwood, but now had thick rugs tossed around for texturing and comfort. She’d also scheduled a few original paintings for delivery later in the week. The couches were a pale beige leather, and the corner still held the Christmas tree and presents.